The Massacre Mechanism (The Downwinders Book 5) (17 page)

Winn could
hear David behind him, consoling the little girl he’d released from the bed,
telling her she would be alright. The girl’s sobs were subsiding, but the room
wasn’t quiet enough for Winn to hear the man’s words. He leaned down a little.

The man
repeated what he was saying. “I am The Fist of God,” he heard, the words
escaping like a death rattle. “And vengeance is mine.”

At first the
thin, hot sensation didn’t make sense to Winn. He saw the handle in the man’s
hand, and the skin of the man’s thin, translucent lips, stretched tightly over
his bony mouth, twisted gently into a smile.

Winn reached
down to his side and felt the warmth of blood.

Attached to
the handle in the man’s hand was the thinnest blade he’d ever seen; almost like
a stiffened piece of thread. He stepped back as the man raised it for a second
strike, missing Winn entirely, but showing Winn exactly how he’d been attacked.

Winn pointed
his gun. “You were going to rape this little girl,” he said, aiming the pistol
at The Fist’s head.

“Rape and
then kill,” he replied, his voice louder, the frailty gone.

Winn pulled
the trigger, and the man’s head disintegrated; pieces of bone scattering along
the wall behind, while others fell forward into the man’s lap. His body
immediately slumped to the side.

“We need to
get her out of here,” David said.

Winn turned
to him. “And I need a hospital,” he replied, showing David his bloodied hand.
He saw the look of concern pass over David’s face as he realized Winn had been
stabbed.

“Can you
walk?” David asked.

“You help
her,” Winn said. “Get her out of here, and call the cops.”

Winn watched
as David escorted the girl from the room. He followed, attempting a step on his
own, and realized he wasn’t going to get very far. His legs buckled as he
neared the door, landing on the table next to it, sending stacks of paper that
had been resting on it to the floor. Then he felt himself crumbling, his body
hitting the ground. Sleepiness washed over him; his body wanted to shut down.
As he wondered if The Fist’s blade had been poisoned, his eyes settled on one
of the papers that had been dislodged from the desk. It was filled with
symbols.

I know
those marks,
he
thought.
That’s the message telling me to get out of the trailer. It’s the
message that…

And his mind
shut down.

His legs
were moving, but he didn’t know how. Back and forth, back and forth…sometimes
dragging a little. There was a pain in his armpit, and he realized it was a
shoulder, holding him up.

Sunlight
pierced his eyelids and he tried to make sense of the images around him. A
street, a sidewalk. A car. David’s car.

He was going
inside it, falling into the back seat, and hands were at his pants, reaching
for something. A jangle…his keys. It was David, taking his car keys.

He felt
unconsciousness pass over him again, and he let it take him away from the
blurred sights and sounds. Then, again, the pain in his armpit. Cooler now, not
as hot, not as sunny. Crunching gravel. House approaching — Carma’s house.
David was taking him inside.

He could
hear Carma’s fussing, questions and answers between her and David, Carma
directing David to place him on the sofa in the sitting room. Then, hot liquid
at his lips, which he rejected, sending water flying back at Carma, who simply
ignored his protest and pressed the lip of a mug to his mouth again, insisting
that he drink.

He allowed
the tea into his system, wondering what kind of fucked up medicine Carma was
pouring into him this time, knowing he had little strength to stop her. After
several gulps, he could feel the liquid radiating from his throat, and once
again consciousness left him.

When he
opened his eyes, he was still on the couch. He expected cobwebs and fuzziness,
but all that had left. He sat up, surprised he could do it.

“Whoa!” he
heard from David, behind him. Carma was suddenly at his side.

“You feeling
better?” she asked.

Winn tried
to mentally inventory his body. He reached down to his side, searching for a
bandage where he’d been stabbed. There was no bandage, and no blood.

“He stuck me
with something,” Winn said, looking down.

“Yes,” Carma
replied. “It’s healed over now.”

“What was
it?” Winn asked.

“Impossible
to know,” Carma replied. “I would have sent David back inside to grab the
handle so we could figure that out, but the place is crawling with cops.”

Winn turned
his head. David was standing there, smiling at him.

“What
happened?” Winn asked.

“You passed
out,” David answered. “I carried you out of the inn and drove you here.”

“The girl?”

“She ran off
while I was helping you. At that point I thought the best thing to do was to quickly
get out of there. No one was around to see us come or go, so I took advantage
of that.”

“My Jeep?”

“I moved it
a block down the road before I drove you here.”

Winn looked
down at the spot where he’d felt blood earlier. “He shoved something long and
thin into me.”

“A needle,”
Carma said. “Rarely fatal. They’re usually a delivery method.”

“Delivery?”
Winn said, standing up. He felt a little dizzy, but it soon passed.

“He most
likely introduced something into your body,” Carma replied.

“He said, ‘vengeance
is mine’ just before he did it,” Winn muttered.

“Well,”
Carma replied, “that doesn’t sound too promising.”

“So, what,
I’ve been poisoned?”

“There was
some poison involved, certainly,” Carma answered. “I think I’ve removed all of
that. There’s a chance, however, that something else is still inside you.”

“Something
else?” Winn said, feeling panic rise in his throat. “Like what?”

“Impossible
to say,” Carma replied. “It could be any number of elements, viruses, germs,
infections, all designed to do different things. Without the handle I have no
idea.”

“You mean I
have some kind of disease?”

“There’s a
strong possibility of that,” Carma replied.

“What can I
do about it?”

“Without
knowing what you’re infected with, I’m afraid you can only keep it at bay with
some defensive powders.”

“The
symbols!” Winn said, suddenly remembering what he’d seen as he collapsed in the
room at the inn. “He had papers with the symbols! The one’s I’ve been seeing!”

Carma look
surprised. “You’re sure?”

“Yes!” Winn
replied. “I fell to the ground, and papers fell with me. I remember seeing them
before I passed out. They were the same symbols I saw before the trailer
exploded.”

“Oh, my,”
Carma said, sitting down on the sofa. “What an evil, evil man. He killed all
those people…” she muttered, piecing it together. “All those poor, innocent
people...”

Winn felt
the rest of what he half-realized while in the inn flood into him; they weren’t
messages from Deem. They were never from Deem.

“He used the
first two messages to gain my confidence,” Winn said, “so I’d believe the third
and smash the device? That was his goal?” He turned to Carma. “But I didn’t
have the device with the first message.”

“I suspect
they knew Deem’s family had it,” Carma replied. “I’ll bet they were trying to
flush it out.”

“That could
be,” David added. “It fits. They didn’t blow up your trailer until after you
deciphered the first message. They wanted you to find the mechanism and
translate it so you’d begin to trust them.”

“And they
knew you’d stop David from getting on the plane,” Carma said. “Killing all
those innocent people to solidify your trust. How horrible!”

“Daniel said
it was very expensive,” Winn replied. “And its power is obvious. If they
suspected Deem’s family of having one, it would make sense to try and flush it
out, so they could either steal it or eliminate it.”

“Turns out
the mechanism wound up giving Lyman what he needed to act against them,” David
said. “Flushing it out worked to their disadvantage.”

“If you
hadn’t stopped me,” Winn said to Carma, “I would have destroyed it. I was
convinced.”

“Believe me
when I tell you that you must trust Lyman,” she replied. “His methods might
seem clandestine or extreme, but he has a massive master plan than goes much
further than any of us understand. And he has many enemies who will try every
method to stop him.”

“Including
using us,” David said. “I suppose if one of us had died in the process, that
would have been a bonus for them.”

“Yes,” Carma
answered. “I’m so sorry this happened to you. You must understand, though, it’s
not about you, per se. They’re after Lyman.”

“The
Mountain Meadows ghosts,” Winn said. “They’re still marching toward Caliente?”

“They are,”
Carma replied. “And should be there within a couple of hours. Do you feel well
enough to take on a final task? A task that Lyman needs you to perform?”

Winn looked
up at David. The two exchanged a quick glance. Winn could tell David was up for
anything.

“Yes,” Winn
answered. “I can’t feel the wound at all. I feel fine.”

“The wound
is gone,” Carma said, leading them to the stairwell. “It’s what he put inside
you that I’m worried about. We’ll have to figure that out later. Right now Lyman
will teach you how to use some mesh, and then you need to go pick up a
trailer.”

▪ ▪ ▪

Deem could
see the lights of the small town crest over the horizon and sensed excitement
running through her compatriots as a result. They were nearing their goal, now
only moments from releasing a century and a half of stalled retribution.

She felt
heat begin to emanate from her hands, which were swinging gently at her sides.
She lifted her palm to her face, examining it; it was warm. Something radiated
from inside it, wanting to come out. Something powerful.

She glanced
to her side where Marion was walking.

You feel
that?
she asked.

Yes,
Marion answered,
in my hands.
It’s burning. I don’t like it.

Deem turned
to watch Paul, still walking ahead of them, focused and intent upon reaching
Caliente along with the dozens of others marching along with them. A dazzling
blue dagger slowly descended from the man’s palms, glowing in the darkness,
pulsing slightly with energy. It stopped when it reached six inches, its sharp tip
swaying as he walked. She saw more of them appearing in the palms of the others
around her, gradually forming in the night like glowing weapons.

Weapons,
she thought.
That’s exactly what
they are.

She raised
her hand once again and saw the blue tip attempting to emerge from her hand.
She knew the woman inside her shared the group’s mutual hatred of their
murderers, but she didn’t feel the compulsion to wield the blade. She tried
suppressing it; the tip sunk into her hand and disappeared.

Is this
how it will be done?
Marion
asked, examining the blue blade that had emerged from her own palm.
These
will be the instruments of our revenge?

You don’t
have to,
Deem
replied, holding her palm up for Marion to see.
I stopped mine.

Marion
turned to her hands again, and Deem saw her concentrate on them. Slowly the
daggers sunk back into her, disappearing completely.

Marion
looked around.
I think we’re the only two who are having second thoughts,
she said.
The rest of them seem ready to use the blades.

Deem felt
the enormity of Lyman’s plan hit her. There was, indeed, a massacre coming. She
suspected that the men in Caliente didn’t realize what was about to descend
upon them. The potent combination of revenge and depravity that was driving her
band of travelers was going to kill everyone there, without mercy.

I don’t
know if I can do that,
Deem thought, unsure if it was herself or Kate thinking the thought.

I don’t
know if I can either,
Marion replied.
Then again, what they did to father…

Not them,
Deem said.
Their
ancestors. It’s what their ancestors did.

That’s
good enough for me!
Paul replied, marching ahead of them.
They swore oaths of revenge for
Carthage, so our revenge for what they did to us is justified by the same God.
I’m going to slice every one of those damn Mormons into pieces.

Deem could
hear a note of glee in the man’s enthusiasm that chilled her to the bone. She
was no fan of Lyman’s enemies — they were her enemies, too. But taking delight
in the prospect of killing them? She wasn’t there, wasn’t able to muster the
fervor that the others around her were exhibiting.

It’s the
soul cage,
she
thought to herself, trying to wall her thoughts from the others.
These
people might be entitled to revenge, but it’s the sick souls Lyman put into
them that will make it a sadistic blood bath. Whereas normal people might have
second thoughts, these insanely violent souls won’t hesitate to shed lives.
Lyman made it foolproof.

As the
lights of Caliente approached, Deem tried to decide if she would participate or
not.
If Dayton’s there, I might,
she considered, then backtracked.
I’m
surrounded by bloodthirsty lunatics determined to kill them all, whether I
participate or not. I can let them do the work. I know I damn sure can’t stop
them.

As they got
closer to their target, the buildings of the town came into view, and the
ghosts around her became more and more focused on the acts of revenge about to
take place, like dogs becoming excited at the prospect of dinner.
I can let
them do all the dirty work,
Deem repeated, feeling the blue spike in her
palm wanting to emerge, but keeping it down.
I don’t have to kill these
people. I don’t have to participate.

She turned
to look at her sister once again. Marion’s hands were free of weapons, too.
Apparently Marion had made the same decision.

The old
train station was the first building they encountered. Deem felt the group
being led by an unseen force, knowing their ultimate destination as if it had
been programmed into them in advance. They turned on Main Street and began
advancing through the small town, a parade of ghosts slowly advancing through
the silent, dark town. No one was out on the streets, and a solitary car
approached from ahead, the only movement she could see. The car moved through
them, and Deem could see the disturbed look on the driver’s face as he sensed
something wrong but couldn’t determine what it was. She turned to see the car’s
taillights, receding in the distance.

She turned
back.
There!
she thought, recognizing the structure ahead on the left.
That
damned motel, the one Warren Jeffs used for his underage marriages. They still
use that sick place. What were they thinking?

A line of
cars parked in front of each room gave the impression that the motel was full,
echoed by the neon “no” on the motel’s sign.