The Eye of Madness (39 page)

Garrison resembled an enraged angel as he hung above the ground. He was bathed in the shimmering light of the half dozen Impals who seized him and lifted him in the air.

“Get thee behind me, Satan!” he screamed as he kicked and writhed. His efforts were futile. They carried him forward and held him a few feet from Cecil and his daughters.

Another Impal walked up behind Cecil. He turned and stood between him and his father. Cecil blinked in surprise because he recognized this Impal and knew him well.

“How are you?” Cecil croaked, his mouth agape. Part of him felt as if he was in a dream. This was too real to be a dream and the rope too painful for him to be dead.

The man stepped forward and smiled as he placed his hand on Cecil's lower arm.

“I'm fine, major,” Thomas Pendleton said softly. He then turned and beckoned to a group of Impals out of Cecil's line of sight. “Please, let's get this man down,” he said.

Cecil felt the warm-cold touches of Impals as he was lifted in the air and the rope pulled loose from his torso. A moment later, he was set back on the ground. Cecil massaged his sore ribs for a few moments before his father began to shout again.

“You are all under arrest … you are all traitors … how dare you defy my authority and the will of the Lord!”

Cecil stepped forward and gazed up into the face of the raving lunatic he once called father. Garrison spat in his son's eyes before muttering, “You disgrace, you should have been aborted. The world would have been a better place.”

The words hurt, yet Cecil ignored him. He stepped back and put his arms around his daughters. He tried to address his father with some affection, but it took every ounce of resolve to utter the first word.

“Dad … these are my daughters, your granddaughters. They are not demons.”

“I know for a fact Steff is alive and well at the White House, the most secure location in the world. This can't be her! The deceivers will go to any means to test our faith!”

Cecil felt the odd warm and cold sensation like tiny shooting stars moving through his shoulder. Steff's tears rolled off her cheeks in shiny drops as she placed her forehead on her father's shoulder.

“It is me, grandpa,” she said. “I tried to climb out a window and fell. I followed Carmella out here when they brought your car.”

“Lies,” he hissed. “Go back to Hell, demon!”

The full meaning of Steff's presence sunk in with Cecil and he began to cry.

“My poor girl,” he said stroking her cold head. “I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you … for both of you,” he said, pulling Abbs into their embrace.

“I'm sorry I let you down, Dad. It's all my fault,” Steff said as silvery tears continued to sheet down her cheeks.

“No sweetheart, it's mine,” he whispered.

Cecil wanted the moment with his daughters to last forever, but his father had other plans.

“Please let me down,” President Garrison asked. He sounded quite lucid and calm. A far contrast from the hate filled zealot from moments earlier.

Cecil paused. He never heard this voice from his father, not even when he was younger.

“I don't think so,” said one of the Impal men holding him up.

“Please,” said President Garrison, pleaded. “I only want a moment with my granddaughters, God bless them.”

“You just thumped them with an iron chain,” the large Impal of an 18th century black man growled. He then helped hoist Garrison even higher as if making a demonstration of their resolve.

Cecil was so dumbstruck with the Impals return, coherent thought was an impossible notion for him at the moment. He was intoxicated with joy to see his daughters again. As a result of all these competing feelings, his inner sense of goodwill took over his common sense. His affection and trust for his father had disappeared a long time ago. Yet, a small flame still burned inside him like a dying match. The unconditional love of a child for their parent is a flame that's difficult to completely extinguish. Cecil's tiny flame still kindled a small hope for reconciliation. He hoped this more for his daughters than himself.

“Let him down,” Cecil said.

The Impals detaining his father, a group of a half dozen men or so, all turned to him. Their clothing was a stark contrast. Each man was from a different period in history ranging from colonial to the 1940s.

“I don't think it's a good idea,” Thomas said, stepping closer to Cecil. “You remember what he did to me and Seth?”

Cecil did remember. It had haunted him every day since his failed attempt to rescue the father and son. Thomas earned his respect and admiration for the sacrifice he made for his son.

“Where is Seth?” Cecil asked, becoming aware that there were more Impals in the hangar. There were hundreds of them. The lights were still off and their bright luminescent glow lit up the whole of the structure. The soldier who manned the controls and the one who wheeled Barbara in fled. Barbara still rested on a gurney a few yards from the Tesla Gate.

“Seth is back there,” Thomas said, pointing towards the far wall of the hangar. Dozens of Impals covered the distance. “He is with a friend. I didn't want him to see up here.”

“Please let me down,” Garrison pleaded again, this time he sounded as if he were on the verge of tears. “Please, I just want to see my granddaughters … to tell them I am sorry.”

Thomas shook his head at Cecil, but his common sense still had not returned. The small flame was still bright enough to blind him for an instant.

“Let him down,” Cecil requested again. “But make sure he doesn't have any weapons or iron on him.”

Perhaps it was Cecil's prudent suggestion that led the Impals to relent and lower Garrison to the ground. After several long moments of debate, they dumped him on the hard concrete floor.

Garrison got up and regarded Cecil and the girls with a wide sheepish smile. He began to walk towards them, his arms opened with his palms turned up in supplication.

“I'm sorry girls, please forgive me,” he said and opened his arms wider.

Thomas moved to intervene, but Cecil urged him to step aside. Garrison moved closer and when he was a few feet from the frightened girls, his smile faded into a scowl of hatred. He charged them.

“I'm sorry I didn't do this earlier!” he screamed.

Impals are capable of passing through most solid objects except for iron, but they have to concentrate. It takes focus and determination. Abbs and Steff had no time to prepare. He caught each of them under their arms and began to drive then towards the crackling mouth of the Tesla Gate.

Cecil and Thomas tried to grab Garrison, but he was too quick. Two flashes shot from the far corner of the platform and raced towards Garrison. He was less than ten feet away from the Gate when the flashes intercepted him. He was jerked backwards and the girls dropped to the ground. They began to crawl towards Cecil as he and Thomas ran towards them. Each reached a girl and pulled her to safety. A moment later, President Garrison was hurtling towards the Tesla Gate. Cecil turned his head as the disgusting crackle of a body hitting the current resonated through the building. The stench of burning flesh flooded Cecil's nose, making him want to wretch.

His father had become the latest victim of the Shredder. Even though this would have been celebration for most, he could not bring himself to celebrate. The small, weak flame burning inside managed to produce a few tears which rolled down his cheeks. He wiped them away as he covered his nose to suppress the smell.

He turned to look, it was unavoidable. His father's body lay smoldering on the floor. Standing on either side of him were two Impal men, one of which he recognized immediately, the other not until he spoke.

CHAPTER 42

THE STORM ROLLS ON

“Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.”

~Martin Luther King, Jr
.

“I'm sorry, Cecil,” Sam Andrews said.

“I am too, major. Quite regrettable,” the other Impal said. He wore a nineteenth century, three-piece suit. It consisted of a sack coat with matching vest and trousers. He didn't resemble the stereotypical magician with top hat and cape. Even so, he definitely fit the appearance of a showman.

“Musial?” Cecil asked. “You're an Impal now?”

“Yes,” said Musial trying to keep up his cool and sarcastic persona. He was so elated, he could not conceal it. Tears of joy rolled down his cheeks like silvery shooting stars, disappearing into the gray concrete floor.

“I'm sorry, major,” Musial said, then turned away. He walked behind the platform for privacy.

Musial was right. It was possible to redeem yourself, no matter how dark one's transgressions may have been. Did he make himself right with God? Cecil could not say, although he did have his own beliefs on the matter. The only thing he knew for certain was that overcoming ignorance and arrogance seemed to free the soul in more ways than one.

“Sam, are you okay?” Cecil asked.

Sam grinned and put his hands on his hips. Cecil noticed he was wearing the same clothing his body was clothed in. It was curious to see the vast garment variations among the Impals. There didn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to their attire. Perhaps it was a favorite garment in life and they incorporated it into their eternal wardrobe.

“I've never been better, Cecil. I haven't felt this good in years.” He paused for a moment and stroked his chin, smirking with satisfaction. “You know, I don't have any desire for a drink, not one little bit.”

Something changed about the Impals since they walked the planet before. Cecil couldn't quite put his finger on it. They still had the same tinny sounding voice and a glowing silvery ethereal quality, but there was more. They seemed much brighter than before. Perhaps it was the close proximity of so many of them together that gave this illusion.

When Cecil noticed the girls standing beside their mother's gurney, his heart sank. He knew they walked close to their grandfather to get there. Their attention was too focused on their mother to notice his macabre presence. A large American flag hung from a nearby pole so Cecil walked over and took it down. He carried it to his father and covered the corpse. It seemed both reverent and disrespectful at the same time. He covered his father with a flag, but Cecil didn't believe his father deserved that privilege. A part of him, a rather large part of him, thought it disrespected the flag more than anything. The important thing was, his body was now covered from view of his daughters. As Cecil was about to turn away and join his girls, something dawned on him. His father's Impal was not here.

Cecil whirled about as if a wild animal might be stalking him when he heard a voice a few feet away. Musial said, “I told you major … he is not here. He is with the dark”

“Where?” Cecil asked.

Musial gazed up at the ceiling distantly, as if he were pondering the size of a planet in the night sky. He then frowned and glanced about the hangar.

“The dark souls are gone,” Musial said. “The eye has passed.”

Musial didn't have to say any more. The former general, former president, and former father, had joined his kindred spirits. Cecil couldn't help feeling a little sick thinking of his father confined to the dark void. He also felt safe. He pushed the thought aside, took a deep breath, and joined Steff and Abbs with their mother.

Barbara's condition broke his heart ever since the day she was ravaged by the dark. Now to see his daughters, his two deceased daughters, regard her with forlorn sadness. It shattered his heart into a million pieces.

“Mom,” Abbs said, reaching out and taking Barbara's hand.

Steff didn't say anything as she took her other hand. Both girls wept.

Cecil stood there for many moments watching his daughters. Salty, mortal, tears dripped from his face and formed a wet spot at the foot of the gurney. He was vaguely aware of the crowd of hundreds watching them. Right now, he did not care. His life would soon be an empty and lonely one. He had not thought of Barbara's condition as serious until now. With every passing day, and every passing moment, his hope of getting his wife back grew weaker.

Cecil was startled when there was a loud crackle and pop as the hangar grew darker. One of the Impals figured out the controls and managed to shut down the infernal Gate. He turned and looked at the empty archway, still emitting a low hum as it powered down. He jumped again when he felt cold hands on each shoulder. He turned to see Thomas and Sam standing there.

He suddenly remembered hearing the disturbing tale one night from an inebriated Sam Andrews's. The story of how his parents were murdered in a home invasion when he was only eight years old. He had witnessed it all.

“Being drunk is the only way I can talk about it,” Andrews had told him with slurred speech.

Cecil resented Andrews drinking problem because of the safety concerns it presented for others. Yet, he tolerated it. He thought alcohol might be a necessary evil if it helped him cope with the tragedy. Andrews's tragedy was aggravated like an old wound when the storm arrived. He realized his parents did not stayed behind to watch over him, they had moved on. Cecil knew both Sam and Thomas had dealt with tragedy. Their sympathy was genuine and heartfelt. As Cecil turned back to his girls, something incredible began to happen.

It was Barbara. She was still lying with her eyes closed. The same steady and rhythmic breathing continued, yet her whole appearance seemed improved. He could not explain it, yet he knew it was happening all the same.

“Momma?” Steff said, bending closer. Her luminescent tears fell straight through her mother's chest.

As both girls leaned closer, Barbara's breathing started to accelerate. Hope started to build. Barbara's mouth began to twitch and her eyelids rolled back and forth as her eyes began to move rapidly underneath. A few moments later, her hands began to move. Both girls hung on to their mother as their dejected faces bloomed into a countenance of hope. Barbara's eyelids fluttered opened as if waking from a bad dream.