Eve of Redemption (16 page)

The Serpent slipped into Burke’s mind and nearly reeled at the dark emotion that flooded him. He had been wondering about the sudden strength of his old friend’s mind. Obviously the enemy’s doing, but it was falling apart now. Burke was a serious mess, and the Serpent detected no sign of that little helper of his.

The Serpent licked his lips. Yes, fortune smiled on him today.

JOHN BURKE OPENED his eyes to a gloomy grayness. He had been dreaming of better days, before his family had vanished. He moaned in the empty room, unable to hold back the loneliness that had plagued him for years. His breathing shuddered as he tried to inhale, but his chest refused to expand. He thought he might be having a heart attack before he realized he was sobbing so hard he couldn’t breathe. The anguish and guilt the strange little girl had healed in his pitch-dark house roared back into his mind with an overwhelming fury, the feelings as raw as if he were reliving the disappearances all over again.

Out of the corner of his eye, Burke glimpsed a movement in the shadowed corner of the room and gasped as he saw his wife and daughter standing there, as beautiful as they had ever been. Their smiles lit up the room. The rotting boards of the abandoned cabin were made new again in the light of his family. His heart cried out as he pulled himself upright on the cot, reaching out toward them. Both Laura and Sara returned the gesture. No blame, no accusation, just blinding visions of love.

Then the room began to darken, and the smiles faded. As Burke watched, Laura evaporated away, and he felt his heart tearing from his chest. In excruciating pain, he wrapped his arms around himself to keep from being torn apart. Sara’s hand continued to reach for him, but her face was terrified. He slid off the cot and fell to his knees. He wanted so much to help his daughter, but his muscles were like cotton. As the vision of Sara faded, failure and guilt flooded his mind. It should have been him rotting away in that tunnel. His mind screamed with self-loathing as his heart continued to tear itself from his worthless body.

“John…John, what’s wrong?”

Burke heard the voice, tried to focus on it, but his despair was all-consuming.

“What’s wrong, hon?”

“He’s sick, Trinny. Real sick.”

Burke recognized the name. Trinny. Katrina. Dave and Katrina. He tried to tell them to let him go, to let him die. He wanted to yell, scream, do anything to relieve even a fraction of the pain that coursed through his mind and body, but he couldn’t. Everything faded into the all-consuming hatred he felt for himself.

MARTINEZ KNELT OVER his shivering friend. Burke’s face was pale and sweaty, his eyes squeezed tight.

“Don’t know what’s wrong. He’s shaking bad.” When a moment passed with no response, Martinez turned to look over his shoulder. Trinny still stood in the doorway, a hand on each side of the opening, her sightless eyes gazing into the gray predawn sky.

“Trinny?” She held up one hand. Martinez was familiar enough with his wife’s strange ways to hold his tongue. He turned his attention back to Burke and let his training take over. Clammy skin. Rapid pulse. Burke was going into shock. Martinez stripped off his light jacket and wrapped it around the stricken man.

“It’s the loss,” Katrina finally said. “He’s feeling all of it at once. All the fear, all the guilt, it’s all hitting him now.”

Martinez held Burke as he continued to shake. “The loss of his family? It’s been four years. I mean…this bad? How?”

“I don’t know, hon, but that’s what’s happening.” Her face slackened as she gazed at something only she could see. “It’s gonna be bad. He’s gonna get it all at once, and he’ll need you to be strong with him—strong in body, strong in faith.” Her sightless eyes bore into his. “John Burke is going to hell, and he’s gonna need you to bring him back.”

BURKE’S MIND SCREAMED as he stumbled through an agony beyond anything he had ever imagined. He felt as though he was being torn from his body, each muscle, each tendon, each nerve stripped away with excruciating precision. At some point the world around him faded and left him with nothing but his pain. He knew he was dying, and the idea filled him with terror. For so long he had known he deserved death. Now it had arrived to claim him, and he wasn’t ready. Another searing flash tore through him, and his tortured mind screamed again—silent, yet with an intensity that threatened to shatter his universe.

As Burke thrashed in agony, the swirling darkness around him absorbed his pain, concentrated it, and shot it back at him. He could see it more clearly with each burst of torment. A strand emerged from his chest. It radiated outward, coalescing into a blurry shape just a shade lighter than the surrounding darkness. In the chaos of his consciousness, he saw the guilt seep out of him, only to be gathered up by the blurry path and returned to him in an endless loop of death. Everything he had felt since Laura and Sara disappeared hit him at once. His mind shrieked out his self-hatred, seared his soul with anger toward his uncaring existence, and cursed any god that would tolerate such madness. Hatred spewed from him, only to be flung back with such force that he thought his mind would melt from its impact.

Again his world shattered. Again his mind screamed.

Deep in the tortured blackness of his soul, John Burke found himself face to face with the monster that dwelt within him. His conscience blazed like a roman candle through the blackness. The world outside his agony ceased to exist. Everything—all thought, feeling, hope, and anger—seared into one thoughtless shriek for mercy.

There is no mercy.

How well he knew this truth.

There is no hope.

The words burned letters of flame in the blackness of the world.

There is no mercy. There is no hope.

Burke’s inner being tipped its head back and screamed the words. His universe trembled at his hate-filled shrieks, recoiled at his pain. Incredible searing darkness tore him apart, shredded his very soul, and sent the flaming molecules that were once John Burke shooting at light speed to the farthest reaches of creation.

There is no mercy.

There is no hope.

Then what?

There is death.

Yes, there was death. Everyone died. It was inevitable.

The pain lessened. His mind still shrieked in agony, but some part of it latched onto this new hope.

There is no mercy.

There is hope.

Death is hope.

He began to let go, no longer struggling with the tortured destruction of his existence, but giving into it, feeding on it. He allowed himself to relish the pain, drink in the agony like a stiff shot. There was nothing temporary about death, though. Death was permanent and never-ending. He let the thoughts that had so rudely invaded his deserved torture fade, making room for the supernova that would burn away any remaining vestige of the being that had been John Burke. Again, his unleashed soul screamed with such force that he knew it must crush the planets. He felt all that remained of him be torn apart, no two molecules spared.

Death approached, not as the tunnel of light so many told of when coming back from near-death experiences, but as a swirling blackness so deep no light would ever penetrate it. It came at him, smashing aside all that had filled his mind—the flames, the words. Everything exploded before this mass of destruction. He wanted to welcome it, to embrace it, but the closer it came, the more he struggled to flee. His pain intensified until his raging mind could no longer grasp any sense of reality. And then he knew. Death was not peaceful oblivion. Death was agonizing pain. Eternal pain. And true to his wish, death had come for him.

THE SERPENT REMAINED out of sight until the two men disappeared up the trail toward the lake, leaving the sickly-looking woman behind. He felt excitement building within him at the idea of something new. He didn’t care that he didn’t hold complete control over the situation. Whatever happened, he knew it would be a blast. He felt so giddy he almost laughed out loud. Almost. There would be time for laughter later. Lots of time for laughter and fun and—well, and anything he wanted. He’d just take care of this little problem first.

The Serpent gave the men time to get out of earshot, and then stepped around the building. He didn’t bother with stealth. The woman still stood in the doorway. He saw her cock her head at the sound of his approach, but she didn’t turn toward him.

“Who’s there?”

The Serpent watched her reaction to his footsteps. She still didn’t look his way. Blind? Oh, this was just too good. This time he did laugh. “Well, ain’t you one sorry-looking excuse for humanity?”

She turned her face toward him, her white eyes verifying his suspicions.

“Who are you? What is it you want?”

The Serpent noted the lack of fear in her voice, as if she had been expecting him. Another surprise. He wasn’t sure he liked this one. Still, what could this blind old hag do? He grinned. There was nothing to be concerned about.

He was still in control.

“You should have gone with your men,” the Serpent said as he strolled toward the woman. No hurry. No rush. “It ain’t safe in these parts for a woman to be alone. Even one as mud-ugly as you.”

“So, you’re the one’s been causing all the trouble.” It wasn’t a question. The Serpent stared into her unblinking white eyes. Something in there unnerved him. Made him feel small.

The Serpent hated feeling small.

His icy calm began to melt away. “I think this is the day you die, mom. What’d ya think about that?”

She laughed. Actually laughed at him. “I been dyin’ a long time. You think you can finish me off? We’ll see, we’ll see.”