The Tears of Nero (The Halo Group Book 1) (21 page)

Chapter 33

Edward paced back and forth, scanning the upper reaches of the temple for any sign of Nero.  According to the madman, he was watching Edward’s every move, waiting to see if Edward would take the bait, rise to the occasion, and hurt the drunk that had killed his wife and son. 

Edward clenched and unclenched his fists.  He wanted to rush over and pound on Richard Marshall’s face.  But by doing so he would be complying with Nero’s wishes and justifying the sociopath’s reasoning.  Nero thought that because bad things happened to good people those good people had the right to rise up and strike back.  Although his faith had waned considerably since Jenny and Connor were killed, Edward still believed that Christ was the way.  Christ had instructed his followers to turn the other cheek.  Edward knew that was what he should be doing, but it wasn’t what he wanted to do. 

He wanted to spill Richard Marshall’s blood.  He felt like that was what the drunk deserved.  Edward wanted revenge more than anything. 

Marshall stared at him with wide eyes, certain that his time on this earth was very short.  He groaned and tried to speak through the tape that bound his lips.  Edward walked over to the drunk and ripped the tape away again, still uncertain of what his next move would be.  It was all he could do not to wrap his hands around the man’s throat and choke him until every ounce of life was gone.  

“You killed my wife and son,” Edward said.  “They’re dead because of you.”

“I’m so, so sorry,” Marshall said, blubbering now.  Fat, wet tears streamed down his cheeks.  “It was an accident.”

“It was an accident that you went out, got yourself drunk, and slid behind the wheel of a car?” Edward asked, bunching his fists again.  

“No,” Marshall said.  “You don’t understand.”

Edward put the tape back over the drunk’s mouth.  “I think I do.”

Furious but unwilling to cave in to Nero’s demands, Edward walked over to the stone wall of the temple and hammered his fists against the cold stone, frustrated and unsure of what to do.  He screamed and wept at the thought of all he had lost.  He pounded the stones with his hands until they were bruised and swollen. 

He thought of Connor and his new word,
seriously
, and how he would never hear that again. 

He thought of Jenny and how he would never again kiss her lips and get the chance to tell her how much he loved her. 

He tried to think of something he had done in this life to warrant the giving of such sweet gifts and the abrupt heart-wrenching thievery of them.  Why had God allowed him such happiness in the first place?  The happiness made the pain that much harder to bear.  Edward wouldn’t have known what he was missing if he’d never been blessed to begin with. 

Tears streamed down his dirty cheeks, and he refused to look at Marshall, partly because he was ashamed of how broken he was and partly because he was so angry the mere sight of the man’s face would have been his undoing.  Edward had a choice to make, and he wasn’t sure what he was going to do.  This was painfully difficult.  He suspected that Nero knew as much and had planned it this way. 

His survival depended on doing as Nero instructed, but he wasn’t sure he was willing to go to this extreme in order to escape.  Survival wasn’t worth anything if you couldn’t look at yourself in the mirror every morning.  Edward didn’t want to become like Nero.  He didn’t want to adhere to the kind of logic that had turned Lindell into a madman. 

More importantly, he was frightened of what might happen if he did as he was instructed.  He was afraid that once he started beating on Marshall he might not be able to stop.  He wasn’t a murderer.  He couldn’t handle that sort of sin on his conscience.  Still, what other option did he have?

“Nero told me he will let me leave this island if I make you bleed,” Edward explained as he walked back over to the man who had stolen his life away.  “He didn’t leave me a knife or a weapon of any sort.  I guess he expects me to use my hands.”

Marshall struggled against the chains that bound him and his eyes were red from so much crying.  He kept trying to talk, but the tape prevented it.  Edward pulled the tape away again.

“I need to explain myself,” Marshall said.  “There’s no excuse for what I did, but I need to at least tell you why.  If you're going to kill me anyway, at least let me say a few last words.”

“Fine.  Why?” 

“I’m not a drunk,” Marshall said.  “I’ve never been much of a drinker.  That day was different than any other.”

“You’re right,” Edward agreed.  “On that day, you drove the car that killed my family.”

“The only way I know to describe it is a twist of fate,” Marshall said.  “I went out and medicated myself because I was tired of feeling so much pain.  My daughter had died of leukemia only a week earlier.  I watched her go through chemotherapy.  I watched her lose her hair.  I watched her waste away to a shell of the little girl she used to be.  I watched a disease eat at her until there was nothing left, and it crushed me.  It seemed so unfair that something like that could happen to my daughter.  She was five when she died, and something broke in me when she took her last breath.  I couldn’t deal with it.  I tried to hold it together but I couldn’t.  On the day your wife and son died, I lost control of myself and wondered if alcohol would numb the pain.  I drank until it made me sick.  Still, I couldn’t erase the memories of my dead little girl from my mind.  I got in my car and planned to find a good sturdy tree on the side of the road to ram.  Instead, I found your wife’s car.  Nothing I can say or do will make things any better.  But you aren’t the only one who’s suffered because of this.  I lay awake night after night wishing I had the courage to find a gun, put a single bullet in the chamber, and pull the trigger.  I want this pain to go away.”

Edward watched as the man wept openly, and something inexplicable happened.  He felt sorry for Marshall.  He’d never known that the man’s daughter had died of leukemia.  It didn’t take the sting of his own pain away, but it made him realize that what happened to Marshall hadn’t been fair either.  His daughter hadn’t deserved to die. 

“I’m so sorry,” Marshall cried, shaking.  “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone but myself.  Beat me if that‘s what it takes to get you out of here.  I deserve whatever you do to me.  Spill my blood.”

It was tempting, but the fact that Marshall wanted him to do it made it seem like the kind of option he wanted to avoid.  Marshall needed to feel punished.  The guilt was eating away at him, and he wanted something tangible to anchor that pain.  A bruise, a broken bone, a ruptured spleen.  It was the same rationale that cutters used to give substance to their own emotional turmoil. 

But Edward didn’t want to give Marshall what he wanted.  Maybe forgiveness and understanding would inflict more pain.  The only problem with that was that Nero wouldn’t give him the key to the boat if he didn’t cause Marshall to bleed.

Edward paced, trying to figure out how to punish Marshall without compromising his values and still give Nero what he wanted.  He stopped in mid-stride as an idea came to him.

Marshall watched him cautiously as he walked over.  Edward looked at Marshall with hatred and tried to find the compassion inside him that should have been there.  “I know you’ve had a lot to deal with.  You lost a child.  I understand what that feels like.  You also have the guilt of the accident on top of that.  I suspect that you’re in worse shape than I am at this point.”

“It’s not a competition,” Marshall said.  “Let me help you get off this island.  It’s the least I can do.”

“I’m not going to beat you,” Edward said.  “But I have to tell you that every instinct inside me is pushing me to make fists and use them.”

“I understand,” Marshall said.

“No.  You don’t.”

Marshall nodded, realizing that there wasn’t anyway he would ever truly know what Edward was feeling. 

“The only way I get the key to that boat is to make you bleed.  Nero didn’t specify that I had to kill you.  He implied it.”

“What are you suggesting?”

Edward eyed the chains that bound Marshall.  “If I cause you to bleed, Nero will honor his part of the deal.  His rules are twisted, but he abides by them.  So what I’m going to do is simple.  I’m going to figure out a way to unchain you, and then I’m going to do nothing except talk.”

“Talk?” Marshall said, confused.

“You’re going to make yourself bleed, and Nero’s going to see it.  You‘re going to do it because I tell you to.”

“Why not hit me a few times and be done with it?” Marshall asked.

Edward considered the question.  “I’m not going to hit you because I’m not sure I would be able to stop.  Also, I know that things have been hard on you.  I want to be the kind of man that’s sympathetic to another man’s heartbreak.  I’m not the kind of man who seeks revenge.  There’s also another reason.”

Marshall looked at Edward with confusion.  “What other reason could there be?”

“Nero brought you here thinking I would kill you.  I’m not going to give him that satisfaction.  Instead, I’m going to help you escape.  You’re getting off of this island with me.”

Overcome with emotion, Marshall began to weep.  “I don’t deserve this kind of mercy,” he said. 

Edward thought about his beliefs, about the life he’d once led as a pastor, about the love of God that he‘d once felt and longed to feel again.  “None of us deserve mercy,” he said.  “And yet it’s there for the taking.  Although it‘s hard to see it sometimes, I know that God has been merciful to me.  I want to do the right thing here.”

“Thank you,” Marshall said.  “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Edward said.  “We still have to get you out of those chains.  Then, there’s the little matter of getting off the island.”

Edward eyed a large rock and was thinking about using it to smash Marshall’s restraints when something moved at the corner of his vision.  He whirled and saw something that gave him a glimmer of hope.

Nick was crouched there at the foot of the stairs, holding a finger up to his swollen lips in a quieting gesture.  “Here,” he said, sliding a key across the dirt to Edward.  “This might work better.”

Edward was about to say something, but Nick reinforced the need for quiet by shaking his head.  “You never saw me.  Nero thinks I‘m dead.”

Edward resisted the urge to answer and walked calmly over to where the key was buried beneath a thin layer of dirt.  He knelt down to tie his shoe and surreptitiously palmed the key.  Then he walked back toward Marshall.  He looked over his shoulder once to see what Nick wanted him to do next, but Nick was gone again. 

Edward sighed and began to unlock Marshall‘s chains.  “I guess it’s back to just you and me.”

Marshall sat up and massaged his wrists once he was unbound.  “OK,” he said.  “Now what?”

Edward looked up at the ceiling of the temple, searching for one of the cameras that he knew must surely be there.  “You’re going to get this man’s blood, Nero!  I expect the key in return!”

Edward turned to Marshall.  “Figure out a way to make yourself bleed.  It doesn’t have to be much.  Nero didn’t specify how this was supposed to be done.  So go easy on yourself.”

Marshall nodded and thought for a moment.  He looked around the temple, searching for something that might be of use to him.  At last, he saw a broken bit of pottery lying in the dirt. 

“This will work,” he said.  “Give me the names of your family.”

Edward looked confused for a moment.  “Jenny and Connor.  Why?”

Marshall nodded and began to carve both names into the skin of his forearms with the ceramic shard.  “I don’t want to forget them,” he said.  “I want to show you how truly sorry I am.”  Blood dripped from both arms, staining the dust maroon.

“Nero!” Edward yelled.

“You didn’t do quite what I had hoped,” Nero said, his voice booming from speakers that were mounted high up in the shadows. “In fact, I’d say you cheated.  I’m not sure how you freed Mr. Marshall from his chains, but that is irrelevant at this point.  I consider this an interesting lesson on human behavior.  You did what was required, and so will I.  There is a hidden compartment underneath the table.  The key is in there.  What I didn‘t tell you was where to find the boat.  That will be up to you.  In the meantime, I think we‘ll be on our way to the mainland.  We have a memorial service to hold.”

Marshall looked at Edward with a mixture of confusion and fear on his face.   “What does he mean by that?”

“It means if we don’t figure out a way to get to the mainland before he does a lot of people are going to die.”

Chapter 34

Edward and Marshall were about to leave the temple when Nick abruptly emerged from the shadows. 

“Nero can still see you,” Edward hissed.

“He’s on his way to kill a bunch of people now. He’s not concerned with me anymore.” 

“Where did you go?” Edward asked. 

“Secret passage,” Nick explained  “It’s kind of expected in places like this.  Overzealous psychotics need clandestine methods of coming and going.  Nero is no exception.”

“Where does the secret passage lead?”

“To a temple within the temple.  It’s where the really nasty stuff goes down.  Nothing that applies to us though.”

“Show me,” Edward said.

“We don’t have time,” Nick said. 

“Do you know where the boat is?” Edward asked.

Nick nodded, but there was a worried look on his face. 

“What aren’t you telling us?” Marshall asked. 

“I had a thought.  Nero plays by his own rules.  If he says something, it’s the law.  He told you that spilling this man’s blood would result in the key to the boat.  What he didn’t say is whether or not the boat would be operational when you found it.  You figured a way around his rules.  He may have done the same thing.”

Edward froze.  He hadn’t considered that.  “You think he may wreck the boat before we get to it?”

Nick shrugged.  “With this guy, it’s hard to say.  The only thing I know for certain is that we need to move fast.”

This time they didn’t take it slow and easy.  They ran like they were on fire, and they ran with determination and purpose.  Nick led the way.  Edward and Marshall followed close behind, gasping and panting for air but managing to keep up.  

Vines with thorns snagged at their flesh and clothing.  Branches slapped unmercifully at their faces.  Most of their encounters with the jungle drew blood in some way, but they never stopped or even slowed down to check their wounds.  There would be time enough for all that later if they made it. 

The route that Nick took through the forest avoided all of the major landmarks they had seen thus far and mysteriously eschewed the beach completely.  Nero could have set any number of traps for them, and they never would have known it until it was too late.  Edward thought about the tripwire that Franklin had set off early on in their adventure, and he wondered if anything similar was lying in wait.  Yet, there simply wasn’t time for speculation, only running. 

The rustle of the jungle eventually gave way to the rushing of water.  The pool glimmered in the sunshine like an emerald, catching sparkles of light and reflecting them in a brilliant display of color.  A waterfall filled the lagoon from overhead, cascading down over rocks and foaming vigorously as it hit the pool.  A small boat dock had been built there, and tethered to one of the cleats was a boat bearing the name “Metatron.”

“What’s that mean?” Marshall asked once he got his breath enough to speak.

Nick thought for a moment, cycling through the volumes of angelic lore stored inside his head.  “According to one story, Metatron is the angel that Enoch became when God took him.”

“That's not Biblical,” Edward pointed out.

“No, it isn't,” Nick agreed.  “But as I'm sure you've noticed, The Slaves of Solomon don't limit themselves to the Bible.” 

“Doesn’t make any sense to me,” Marshall said.  “But as long as the boat works I don’t need to understand the name.”

“It looks safe enough,” Edward said.

“That’s what scares me,” Nick said.

They boarded Metatron carefully, keeping an eye out for anything that looked out of the ordinary.  Aside from the boat’s name, there was nothing else to indicate anything unusual about it.

“Do you know how to drive one of these things?” Edward asked Nick.

“Are you kidding?” the Halo agent said with a smile.  “Got the key?”

Edward surrendered it willingly enough and felt relief for the first time in days when the engine started up.  Within minutes, the island was at their backs and open water lay ahead.

Nick volunteered to pilot the boat while Edward and Marshall took the opportunity to rest.  Neither man argued.  Edward thought he would go to sleep immediately, and he did at first.  But something woke him. 

He opened his eyes slowly and shut them again, trying to go back to sleep.  There was a nagging ache in the back of his brain that wouldn’t go away no matter how much he tried to relax.  It wasn’t so much a headache as it was a sense of foreboding.  Something still wasn’t right, and Edward couldn’t allow himself to go to sleep while the mystery tugged at the outer reaches of his curiosity. 

Marshall, on the other hand, went to sleep almost immediately.  The man’s snores filled the cabin, sounding like an overzealous chainsaw.  Edward barely noticed the noise.  Instead, he scanned the boat, trying to think of what sort of inconsistency was eating at him. 

Maybe it was the fact that the key had been given to him a little too readily.  Maybe it was the fact that Marshall hadn’t offered an explanation as to how he ended up on the island.  Or maybe it was how easily Nick Gentry seemed to disappear and reappear at the most opportune times.

Edward lay there with his eyes closed, remembering the way Nick had shown up at the house, how he had appeared with the key to Marshall’s chains, and how he had disappeared again without a trace.  It was like the man was a ghost. 

Where were the other members of Nick’s team?

Edward knew he hadn’t really been given a choice about getting on this boat.  The boat was their only hope of survival.  Still, the fact that he was at Nick’s mercy right now troubled him a little bit.  No one was what they seemed. 

That didn’t mean everyone was necessarily bad. 

It didn’t mean they weren’t either.

Edward considered the fact that Nick had helped them find their way out of Nero’s house.  He also considered that Nick had given them the key to Marshall’s chains.  Still, none of that proved that Nick was on their side.  Maybe that was all part of Nero’s plan.  Or maybe…

Edward stopped as a thought occurred to him.  It was a thought that made him shiver involuntarily despite the fact that it was at least ninety degrees. 

He thought back to the house and the crazy room with so many pictures of Nero’s “angel.”  They hadn’t seen Nero there.  They heard his voice by way of the intercom, but they had never actually laid eyes on him.  Then there was Nick’s sudden appearance in the temple.  They hadn’t actually seen Nero then either.  There was also the small matter of the man they believed to be Nero.  They hadn’t seen his face behind that tear-stained mask.  They had only seen someone clad in purple robes wearing a façade.  Edward pushed his memory to its limits, going all the way back to the house on Archibald Street.  He tried to recall if he had ever seen Nero and Seneca in the same place at the same time.  He didn’t think so.  Nero, of course, had been the one to shoot Nick in the neck with the blowgun dart.  But who was to say that Nick couldn’t be behind all of this anyway?  Maybe he had someone else wearing the Nero mask as a way to confuse things.  At this point, there was no way to be sure who was behind Nero’s mask or even if it was the same person each and every time.  Edward couldn’t possibly fathom the reason for such a deception.  Still, the thought was in his mind and would not be forced out. 

Maybe Nick was Nero.  The idea strongly contrasted with the surety that Nero was Lindell, and Edward couldn’t quite make the theory stick with any certainty.  Nonetheless, he had his doubts, and doubts were enough to make him nervous as he traveled across the ocean in a boat with someone he had trusted on blind faith. 

At the very least, Nick Gentry could be a dangerous man that was in league with Nero.  Maybe he was taking them someplace where they would never be able to stop Nero’s plan.  It wasn’t so farfetched.  After all, Franklin and Sadie were both secret members of the Slaves of Solomon.  Maybe all of the Halo Group stuff was just a smokescreen, and Nick was truly a member too. 

Edward felt sick as he thought about all the thousands of people that could die by coming into contact with the angel of destruction Nero held in such high esteem.  He couldn’t lie there any longer.  He needed to do something. 

He searched the cabin for anything that might double as a weapon and was pleasantly surprised to find a knife used for filleting fish.  Although the blade was thin and flexible, it might come in handy if Nick turned out to be in league with the Slaves of Solomon.  Edward tucked the knife into the waist of his slacks and climbed the stairs to the upper deck. Nick smiled at him warmly.  It wasn’t the maniacal grin of a madman, but Edward took no reassurance in this fact.

“You okay?” Nick asked. 

“Something occurred to me,” Edward said. 

Nick frowned.  “And what might that be?”

“You mentioned that there were other members of your group on this island.  Why haven’t any of them shown up to lend a hand?”

The mention of the rest of his team was enough to change Nick Gentry’s expression.  A deep, mournful sorrow seemed to come over him, settling in to his features like frost on winter ground.  For a moment, he didn’t seem to know how to respond.  At last, he sighed and pulled a compact, handheld video recorder about the size of a credit card from the folds of his robe. 

“Take a look for yourself,” he said.

Edward hit the play button and watched.  The camera showed a dozen bodies lined up side by side in the depths of the temple.  The way the bodies had fallen gave the indication they had died execution style.  Blood stained the shattered masks and the ground. 

“Where is this?” Edward asked.

“It’s the room where I hid from Nero,” Nick explained.  “The one you questioned me about.  Maybe you understand now why I wasn’t too keen on taking you back there.  Apparently, Nero knew that we had infiltrated the group all along.  He waited until everyone was here, and he killed them for their betrayal.”

“Everyone but you,” Edward said.  He was more convinced now that Nick was on his side, but he still wasn’t absolute in his certainty.

“I spent many, many months by Nero’s side.  He’ll want my payback to be personal.  He’ll want to do it himself.”

Edward chewed on that explanation for a moment.  It seemed logical enough, but he couldn’t bring himself to fully trust anyone.  As crazy as it sounded, he trusted Marshall, the man who had killed his wife and son, more than anyone else at this point.  There wasn’t any greater hurt Marshall could inflict on him at this point so there was nothing to dread.

“Isn’t there any way to contact your people back home and tell them what Nero’s planning?”

“See for yourself,” Nick said, stepping aside to show the battered remains of what used to be a radio.  Electrical wires spilled out of the device like robot entrails.

“Was it like that when we got on board?” Edward asked.

Nick nodded.  “Surely you don’t think I did this.”

Edward looked out at the water, trying to process everything in his head.

“Don’t you think this kind of destruction would have made a little noise?  Did you hear anything that sounded like me bashing in the radio?”

Nick was right.  Destroying the radio would have made a lot of racket, and he hadn’t heard anything like that.  Still, that didn’t mean Nick hadn’t smashed the radio sometime earlier.  After all, he was the one that led them to the boat in the first place.  He could have gone there first, done the damage, and came back to the temple. 

“I’m sensing that you don’t trust me,” Nick said.  “I understand that.  It’s one of the cardinal rules in my business.”

Edward kept staring out at the ocean and wondering where they really were in the world.  “Your business,” he said, spitting the words out like bits of rotten fruit.  “Let’s talk about that for a minute.  Tell me about The Halo Group.”

“There’s not much I can tell you,” Nick said.  “It’s classified.  We’re not even supposed to exist.”

“And yet you do,” Edward said.  “I’m out here in the middle of the ocean with someone I don’t even know.  I’m at your mercy, and you want me to take your word for everything.”

Nick sighed.  “I understand your frustration.”

“What can you tell me?”

Nick thought for a moment, as if contemplating the risks of sharing information.  “To be truthful, I’m not sure exactly how The Halo Group was started.  It’s one of those secrets I’m not privy to.  However, I know it’s been around for a long, long time.  Only now, as the world spins further and further out of control, the need for a group like us is stronger than ever.”

“What made you get into this line of work?” 

Nick seemed visibly disturbed by the question but he didn’t back away from it.  “On March 26, 1997, thirty-nine members of the Heaven’s Gate cult were found dead in an upscale mansion in Rancho Santa Fe, California.  They all committed suicide because their leader, a deluded man named Applewhite, managed to convince them all that there was a spacecraft trailing the Hale-Bopp comet, and that the only way to board that spaceship and reach another level of human existence was to commit suicide.  My brother was a member of that group.”

Edward was shocked and didn’t know exactly what to say for a moment.  “I’m sorry.”