Beckon (20 page)

“Yes!” George reached out his hand. “Give it to me.”

But Miriam clutched his arms, refusing to let go. “No! I won't live like that.”

“George?” Vale held out the vial and moved closer. “Do we have an agreement?”

“Yes, yes. Give it to me.”

Miriam lunged forward, snatching the perilium from Vale's grasp. She fell in a heap, smashing the vial onto the floor. Glass shattered and the yellow liquid splashed across the tiles. The others gasped and scrambled to their feet.

“No!”
George slumped to his knees and wrapped his arms around Miriam, lifting her to his chest. “What are you doing?”

Miriam's breaths came in choppy bursts. “Setting . . . you . . . free. . . .”

Tears poured from George's eyes as she began to shake, her arms and legs quivering with increasing violence. He wept with bitter moans, desperately trying to hold her body still. But she arched back in his arms. Her head twisted and she groaned through her clenched teeth.

“No, no . . . dear God.” George sobbed like a child. “Please don't leave me.”

Miriam's body shook in violent surges, and he tried to hold her tightly but couldn't prevent the ravaging onslaught of her spasms. He couldn't ease her suffering or fend off death. He couldn't . . .

He couldn't save her.

George felt the whole world shift as his brain shut down to the trauma. This wasn't happening. Miriam wasn't dying. They never came to Wyoming. He never heard of perilium.

Seconds crawled past like hours. Eventually her tremors weakened, her body relaxed, and her eyes rolled back down. They seemed to fix on him for a brief moment as a sigh escaped her lips.

“No . . . sting . . .”

Then her eyes lost focus and she fell limp in his arms.

Chapter 36

Elina still had more questions than answers. This newcomer, Jack, fascinated her, but his story was chilling. And while there were still some missing pieces, he had certainly shed light on the N'watu and why the people of Beckon were doing what they did.

But she didn't know how many others there were. Was the whole town infected by this substance? This perilium?

And she wondered further about the couple she had encountered the day before. They seemed genuinely unaware of what was going on in this place and completely appalled by their discovery of the dungeons below Vale's palatial lodge.

But it had been too long since their encounter. Clearly, if these people had been able to call for help, they would have heard something by now. Either they had been caught or killed—or worse, perhaps they were both part of the town's conspiracy and had just been toying with them by pretending to help.

Elina felt like screaming. She hated not knowing what was going on. Hours had passed since they had brought Jack, but she couldn't tell what time it was or even what day it was. She was filthy and hungry and now more angered than scared. But at least with Jack she had someone who knew more about what was going on.

They discussed various theories about the N'watu and the creatures that were apparently lurking farther down in the cave. They talked for hours, but Elina was getting more and more frustrated. All this talk was just fine, but it wasn't getting them any closer to escaping—even to formulating a plan for escape. And in the back of her head, Elina knew it was only a matter of time before Vale came for another sacrificial offering. Before it was time for the Soul Eater's next meal.

She peeked out the window in her door. “Jack, I can't just sit here and wait around for them to come and get one of us. We have to try to escape.”

She heard Jack's voice reply, “What exactly did you have in mind?”

“I don't know, but I'm tired of waiting.”

“How many others are down here?”

“The best I can tell is maybe five or six,” Elina said.

Elina could hear Jack testing his cell door, inspecting the lock, the hinges, and the window bars. After a few minutes he issued an exasperated sigh. He sounded like he was giving up hope. And she couldn't let that happen. Down here, hope might be all they had.

“Jack . . . do you believe in God?”

There was silence for a few seconds. “I guess so. I mean, my father would take me to church when I was a kid, but it always seemed so . . . I don't know. Lifeless. And when I see places like this, I wonder if He's even real at all. And how He could allow stuff like this to happen.”

“I don't have a very good answer for you there,” Elina said. “I've only been going to church for a couple months.”

“A recent convert?”

“Well, more like a revert.”

“What do you mean?”

Elina sighed. She'd never shared this part of herself with anyone before. She had never seen the need to. She had always been too arrogant and independent. But her current circumstances seemed to provide an opportunity.

“My father was such a good Christian man. I was only thirteen when he was murdered . . . and something happened to me. I guess I just stopped caring about God. I couldn't forgive Him for letting my father die.”

She heard Jack grunt softly. “I think I can relate to that.”

“So I was angry most of my teenage years and even through college. And when I joined the LAPD, I was an angry cop. A good cop, but an angry one.”

“You said you
used
to be on the police force. What happened?”

Elina's chest began to ache. “I was on a call, a robbery. And I ended up pursuing a suspect. I followed him down an alley and lost sight of him for a moment. When I found him again, he had turned and was walking toward me.”

“Was he armed?”

“I thought he was, so I fired my weapon. But I didn't warn him. I didn't identify myself. I just fired. Three or four shots. One to the head. And I didn't care. I didn't know who he was, but I hated him and I wanted him to die because he was just a thug like the one who killed my dad.”

“But it wasn't the right guy, was it?”

“No. . . .” Elina could feel the tears in her eyes. They dripped down, cutting a salty path through the grime and dirt on her cheeks. “He was just some kid. Some innocent kid the guy had passed in the alley. Some kid just walking home from a party.”

“Let me guess—an internal investigation, a reprimand. Mandatory leave?”

“The suspect was black. The kid was black, and the guy who killed my father was black. . . .”

“So . . . they tried to make it a racial incident?”

“Somebody had heard me make derogatory comments in my rookie year, and all that came back to haunt me too.”

“So
was
it about race?”

“That's the thing,” Elina said. “I've been hating black men since my father was killed. And I didn't care what people thought.”

“I guess there wasn't much tolerance on the LAPD for that mentality.”

Elina wiped her eyes. “I kind of hit rock bottom. I had lost my job and stirred up all kinds of racial tension in my neighborhood. Then a few months ago I started to rethink some of my values. Started going back to church. Praying more. You know, trying to humble myself before God.”

“Do you still hate black men?”

“Not since I've come back to God.” Elina chuckled softly. “Now I only hate some of them.”

Jack laughed. “So why are you telling me all this?”

Elina sighed. “I don't know. I guess it's a little cathartic to talk about it. But mostly to pass some time.”

She could hear Jack moving around in his cell again. His voice held a tone of frustration. “There's got to be a way to break out of here.”

“I haven't seen any way out,” Elina said. “They feed us twice a day, I think. A bowl of oatmeal slop and a cup of water in the morning and evening. No utensils.”

“Have they taken anyone away during that time?”

Elina paused. “Mmmm, no. Not that I heard, anyway.”

“So as far as we know, it's been at least a few days since this thing was fed. I wonder how long it goes between meals.”

Then Elina heard voices echoing up the tunnel, getting closer. Her heart began pounding. “I'm guessing a few days.”

The chorus of wails and curses from the other prisoners started up again, and Elina pressed her face against the bars, straining to see into the main passage. She glimpsed the erratic beam from a flashlight glancing off the sides and floor of the tunnel.

In moments a group of figures appeared around the corner. In the painful glare of the flashlight, Elina thought she saw four men. One in the lead with two others behind him, carrying a fourth man between them.

One of the men chuckled and Elina recognized his voice: Carson.

“It's like Grand Central Station down here.”

The man in the lead stopped at the head of the passage and pointed to the door next to Elina's. “Put him in that one.” She could tell it was Vale.

The other two dragged the man past Elina's cell. She caught a glimpse of his face and gasped.

It was the man who had discovered them yesterday. The man she had hoped was going to call for help.

They deposited him in the cell with a sick-sounding thump and closed the door. Vale shone his flashlight in the window. “I'm sorry your wife lacked the vision to join us, George,” he said. “But I'm a forgiving man. You know that you're more than welcome to come back, should you have a change of heart. You could still have a long and happy life here with us.”

Elina heard muffled curses from behind the door, but Vale only laughed and then turned his attention to the other cells, peering in through the bars.

“Good evening, Jack,” he said. “You must be feeling a bit of déjà vu, I bet.”

Then he crossed over to Elina's door, and she backed away from the window.

“Ahh, Former Officer Gutierrez.” Vale peered in at her. She could see his yellow-green eyes inspecting her for what felt like an endless moment. “Yes . . . it's been quite some time since she has enjoyed the taste of a woman.”

Elina retreated farther into the cell. “What are you talking about?”

Vale chuckled. “You mean you haven't told them what's waiting for them, Jack? Down in the caverns? You haven't told them about Sh'ar Kouhm?”

“Of course I told them,” Jack shot back.

“She's hungry tonight.” Vale's eyes again appeared in Elina's window. “She feeds on fear, you know. She can smell it in your blood. It's like a drug to her. And women are capable of generating such . . . pure, unbridled fear.”

Elina's pulse raced and she pressed against the wall as Carson unlocked her cell door. She could hear Jack and the others yelling and pounding their doors. Her senses heightened as adrenaline surged through her veins. Elina coiled down, ready to attack. She was outnumbered by bigger, stronger men, but she refused to go with them quietly. The door opened and Carson entered, carrying the black stun baton. Elina gritted her teeth against the pain she knew was coming. She would make them kill her rather than take her to this creature. She sprang forward, aiming her foot at Carson's groin.

She was still in the air when Carson swung the stick toward her. She saw a blue spark of light and felt her limbs involuntarily stiffen. She hit the ground like a sack of rocks, her throat tightening so violently that she couldn't breathe.

Then Carson pulled the stick away, electricity still sparking from the tip. Elina lay completely stunned and gasping for breath as the other man entered with a rope.

Chapter 37

Jack screamed until his throat was raw, his throbbing fists pounding against the door. He alternated between threatening and reasoning with Vale as Carson and another man entered Elina's cell.

But Vale ignored Jack, and a few minutes later his men emerged again, carrying Elina between them. She was bound and gagged, her hands and feet wrapped tightly with rope.

They hauled her back up the tunnel, around the corner, and out of sight. Jack leaned his head against the bars, listening to the other voices echo curses through the tunnels.

Jack closed his eyes and struggled to keep his thoughts focused. He tried to talk to the man in the cell across from him. The newcomer they had just brought down. Vale had called him George.

“Hey . . . hey, George.”

Jack could see a vague shadow moving behind the bars in the window.

“George,” Jack called again. “Did you ever find a way to contact the FBI?”

A voice replied from behind the door. It was husky and hollow, empty of emotion. “No. They were waiting for us as soon as we got out of the tunnel. Vale's had us locked up in our room ever since.”

“Elina said you were with someone else. . . . Was that your wife?”

“Yes.”

“What happened to her?”

Jack could see the vague shape of George's face through the bars of his door. “She's dead. They said they had a cure for her Alzheimer's, but . . . they lied to us. It killed her instead.”

Jack heard him begin to sob in the darkness. He stepped back to process this information in silence. It was just like Henderson had described. Vale lured people to town with the promise of curing some disease. George was probably wealthy or had something else Vale needed to continue his smuggling of human beings into town. That must have been why they were chosen.

“I'm sorry for your loss” was all he could think of to say.

The soft echo of footsteps brought Jack up from his thoughts. He strained to listen. Someone else was approaching.

A minute later another figure appeared in the tunnel, carrying a flashlight. He moved slowly down the passage, peering into the cells. The light glared in Jack's eyes for a moment, then flicked away.

“He's going to kill her,” a voice said.

Jack's hope lifted. “Dwight?”

Dwight Henderson's eyes darted around the tunnel. “We . . . we have to save her.”

“Save Elina?” Jack said. “Yes, we do. But you need to let us out so we can help you.”

Dwight shook his head. Jack thought he looked disoriented. “I—I begged him not to take her, but . . . he said she was too dangerous to keep.”

“Dwight, let us out of here. We're running out of time.”

Dwight shone the light into George's cell. “I'm sorry about Miriam. I'm sorry that you lost her.”

George's voice took on a biting tone. “Oh, I'm sure you are.”

“Why didn't she want to live here? Why would she do that?”

“Because she wasn't afraid to die,” George said. “She would rather die than be a part of what you people are doing here, and she wanted to set me free. She . . .” His voice cracked. “She believed something better was waiting for her when she died.”

Dwight leaned closer to George's window. “Do you?”

George was silent for a moment, then said, “I don't know.”

“Dwight,” Jack said, “do you have the keys?”

Dwight held up a ring of keys. “He'll kill me for this.”

“We'll help you,” Jack said. “Just let us out of here.”

“He'll kill me.” Dwight stared at the keys, though his gaze seemed unfocused. “He'll get rid of me like he did with Amanda. He's going to kill all of us sooner or later. Eventually we'll all stop being useful to him.”

“Listen to me,” Jack persisted. “We can help you.”

“No, you can't, Jack. No one can.” He turned back to George. “Do you think Miriam was right? Do you think there's anything waiting for you when you die?”

“If there is a hell, I know you'll be there. You and all the rest of the people in this town.”

Jack could see Dwight wavering in the darkness. Teetering on the brink between hope and despair. Struggling perhaps with a newfound conscience. A sense of moral doubt that had been buried too deeply and for too long but that now seemed to be reemerging. Jack tried to tip the balance further, even if he wasn't quite sure of it himself.

“That's not true, Dwight. There's still hope.”

“No, there's not. I've done terrible things.”

“I know it,” Jack said. “Horrible things. I don't have all the answers, but I have to believe that God's bigger than all that. I have to believe He can forgive you. That He
wants
to forgive you.”

“That's what she thought too.” Dwight furrowed his brow and snorted. “But God left this town a long time ago.”

“No, He didn't.” Jack felt his heart swelling now with courage. He could sense the tiniest spark of hope in this dungeon. Elina had ignited it in his heart almost without his knowing it. And now it was struggling to shine again right on the other side of his prison door. He just needed to coax it a little. To fan it into flame. “I used to think that way too, but maybe God's here now. Right here in the darkness. Maybe it's why He brought Elina here. To help you find Him. Now please, let us out so we can save her.”

Dwight blinked and looked down at the ring in his hands. His jaw clenched, and he slipped the key into the lock.

Jack pushed the door open with a rush of emotion flooding over him. He grabbed Dwight by the shoulders, wanting to hug the man there in the tunnel. “We have to free the others.”

They unlocked George's cell and the one on the other side of Jack.

The young man who emerged from that cell was emaciated and filthy. He looked barely eighteen or nineteen and rail thin. His tattered clothes reeked. He was talking rapidly in Spanish. Jack handed him the keys and motioned for him to open the other cells.

George emerged from his cell as if in a daze. Jack could see he was an older man, maybe in his seventies. He was tall and perhaps at one time rather distinguished-looking, but now his face looked gaunt and gray as if worn out by sorrow. A large purple bruise puffed out on his upper cheek.

“We have to go after them,” Jack said to Dwight and George. He could hear the other cell doors opening, accompanied by yelps and hoots of relief.

Dwight was shaking his head. “You need weapons first. Frank has a gun.”

By now, the other kid had returned, out of breath and followed by six exhausted-looking Hispanic men. They were all speaking Spanish, and Jack couldn't understand what they were saying.

He turned back to Dwight. “Where are the weapons?”

Dwight pointed up the tunnel. “Frank's ex-military. He's got an armory in the basement, right across from my lab.”

Jack looked at the group of Hispanic men. “Which one of you is Javier? Who's Elina's cousin?”

One of them stepped forward, the tallest of the group. His long black hair was matted and tangled.

“We have to save Elina,” Jack said.

Javier started to reply in Spanish, but Jack shook his head.

“Wait . . . uh,
no . . . no habla es—
”

Dwight cut him off.
“Han llevado a Elina a la cueva. Tenemos que ir por ella.”

Javier nodded excitedly.
“Sí, vamos a prisa!”

They rushed through the tunnel and up the stairs into the basement of the lodge. All of them shielded their eyes from the fluorescent lights and moved out into the corridor.

“Here,” Dwight said. He stopped at the door across from his lab and fumbled with the keys. “It's this one.”

All of the prisoners with the exception of Javier scurried past them toward the stairs.

“Hey, wait! Hold up,” Dwight called after them.
“Espera, espera!”

But they ignored him, obviously too relieved to be free.

Dwight looked at Jack and George. “We have to stop them. The others are still upstairs. If they find out what's going on . . .”

George's eyes took on an icy glare. “I'll take care of them; you guys go after the girl.”

Dwight unlocked the door and opened it into a small room with gun racks on the walls and a shelving unit crammed with boxes of ammunition. They snatched weapons and ammo in a mad flurry. Jack found a rack of shotguns.

He tossed one to George along with a box of shells. “Guard the entrance. Make sure none of them come after us.”

George nodded and headed up the hall, loading the shells as he went.

Dwight was busy loading the other shotguns. He slung one over his shoulder and handed another to Jack. Jack looked it over, familiarizing himself with the weapon. He had fired a gun a few times on a target range, but he'd never used one in any kind of violent action.

“Point and pull.” Dwight tapped the barrel. “Just don't point it at me.” He gave one to Javier as well and rattled off some instructions in Spanish.

Jack spotted a box of flares on one of the lower shelves. He grabbed a handful and shoved them into a canvas bag.

Meanwhile Dwight had loaded a pair of .45 revolvers; he shoved one in his belt and held the other ready. Inside of three minutes they were loaded and ready for war.

Dwight stopped on his way out the door. “Hold on.”

He grabbed a couple items off one of the shelves and showed them to Jack—small, black metallic spheres with handles on one side.

Jack's eyebrows went up. “Grenades? He's got hand grenades too?”

Dwight shrugged. “Like I said, Frank's ex-military.”

Jack glanced back along the corridor where George had disappeared up the stairs. Then he turned and followed Dwight and Javier through the storage closet and down into the tunnel.