The Messiah Choice (1985) (17 page)

He gestured with his hand, and the nightgown which she wore was violently jerked from her body with a ripping sound. It flew across the room and struck the wall, where it collapsed in a heap. She had always worn a bra, not only for some control and appearance but to prevent chafing and other problems. Now the bra snapped in the back like a rubber band stretched too tight, and the entire thing flew to the same wall and landed in the same place as the gown. Before she could feel acutely embarrassed, though, the adult-style diaper, which she'd always had to wear because of her lack of bowel control, snapped and followed the rest, leaving her stark naked in the room.

She reached in her embarrassment for the sheet on the bed, musty as it was, to hold it up in front of her, but the moment it was up, it, too, was snatched away.

"It is an elemental force, a prankster, but it is effective. You will wear no clothing. None. Any that you attempt will flee from you. Force it on and it will burn like fire until you remove it. Feel free to go anywhere you like, but if you go into civilized territory you will discover that to them you are an illiterate mute with a paranoid fear of any clothing. Your choice is clear. The freedom of living here, and in the woods, or being locked up in an asylum until we need you, as any sane human being would do for one such as you. You wouldn't like the asylum we would use."

"You
bastard
!" she snarled, and spat at him.

He laughed with the confidence that power brings. "I am being kind to you. Do not test my patience or my kindness. It won't be so bad. In the cabinets you will find a small camper stove with sufficient fuel to cook things one at a time if you like. I realize you've had no real experience cooking, but you might wish to boil water or something. Fruits, vegetables, breads, cold cuts, canned foods, and the like will be regularly provided, and feel free, at night, to supplement with the fruits of the Institute orchards—coconuts, bananas, whatever. There is a well about four meters in back of the house and to the side. It works and the water is good. For bathing, there is a small creek and waterfall due south, about ninety meters or so down and toward the sea. The water is warm and there is a small pool formed at the bottom if you wish to bathe rather than shower. Please be careful, though. It runs due west of another forty meters and then goes over the cliffs to the sea in a sheer drop."

"It would serve you right if that happened!" she taunted, it being the only weapon she had.

"Your firm beliefs will prevent suicide, and forces you will never see will check on you from time to time to help prevent accidents. I believe that is it. I must go now. Oh—no, one more thing.

Be cautious and fearful of men, for some have uncontrollable urges. We care not about women, but should you be deflowered by a man your usefulness to us is over. The price of such an act, willing or not, is your mind, for it will drive you mad, yet you will then become a willing slave to our own interests. You can't win. You may as well relax and accept your fate; leave the fight to others."

"Wait!" she called out to him. "Why keep me alive at all? Am I some sort of virgin sacrifice?''

He paused and considered his words. "You will not be sacrificed. You are far more valuable alive than dead. Do not worry. In the end, greatness and freedom await you! But, I must go. Until later,
adieu."
He turned and stared at the lantern, which immediately went dark.

The door did not open, but she knew he was gone. She could feel it, standing there in near total darkness. It was, in fact, too dark to search through and find anything, yet she could not simply go to sleep. No matter what had happened to her, she could
move,
she could
feel
her body and control it. She carefully felt her way across to the front wall, and then along it to the door. The bar was heavy, but she managed to lift it and move it out of the way, then reach down as she had dreamed of being able to do all these years and opened it, then stepped outside.

Although it was quite dark outside, there was far more light than inside the cabin and her eyes, coming from total darkness, had no trouble seeing. It was hot and humid, as always, and there was a mild breeze that caressed her body and made it tingle. For all the trouble she was in, there was something exciting, even erotic, about the situation that she couldn't fight down. She decided she would make use of what night was left, since she couldn't imagine wandering long in daylight—not like this.

Oddly, though, the dreams—no, not dreams, for she now knew they were real—had prepared her to an extent for this. They had planned it from the start, it was clear. She felt confident moving around in the dark and felt no fear of the woods, and she knew she wouldn't hesitate to climb high if need be.

She thought suddenly of Greg, and tears welled up inside her. Poor Greg. She had loved him, and would love him, but she could not help him. Who could fight such a power as this unless it was with the grace of God?

She knelt down and said prayers for his soul, putting them far ahead of prayers for her own sake. It was the least she could do.

There was only one window of any size in the little church, a stained glass affair in a crescent shape just over the door. It suddenly shattered with a crash despite the muffled sounds.

"Red! Watch it! Move back towards the altar!" MacDonald cried, and the constable scrambled up and over the pews and out of the aisle, almost beating the young man to the pulpit.

They turned back to the gaping hole where the window had been and, in spite of the darkness, saw a shape come through. At first it reminded MacDonald of a snake, but then he realized that it was an arm—a massive arm that ended in a huge, clawed hand. It was almost too big for the opening, and wasn't nearly long enough, but it did reach the back few rows and began groping, then ripping up pews and tossing them every which way like so many match sticks in the wind.

"Jesus Christ!" the old constable swore, hardly conscious of how it sounded from the altar of a church. "You sure can see that bastard now! What in the bloody hell
is
that thing?"

They ducked as a random pew flew and crashed into the rear wall just behind them.

"I don't know, Red, but I'll bet you one or more of those big dishes up on the hill are pointed right at us right now."

"You mean the thing's being
broadcast
here?"

"Nothing else makes sense," he responded, when the crash and din allowed. "Somebody discovered one hell of a weapon up there and they're using the computer to do their dirty work."

"Then why in hell don't he just zap you and be done with it? Them things got to be able to cover anyplace on the island!"

"Partly because he's got a weird mind, and partly because, having finished off Sir Robert this way, he's got to be consistent to keep everybody going crazy."

The great arm withdrew, but the pounding did not resume. The respite allowed them a few moments to catch their breath, although they could hear the creature outside and knew that it was still there, trying in its apparently limited way to figure a different way in.

Greg looked around at the chapel, which was in shambles but still intact, and sighed. "They sure knew how to build 'em in the old days, Red. Thank God!"

The constable nodded. "You said, 'he.' You know who's behind all this, then?"

"Yeah, I know, but I can't prove a damned thing. That's the hell of it." He chuckled and hefted the briefcase, which he'd carried through all of the flight and the ordeal in the church as if it were attached to him. "I got it tonight, which is why they made for me. In one way it's a good sign, since this is so stupid. He must know I can't pin a thing on him, and he's got all the cards up there.

He panics too easily for his own good. If we're lucky, that'll be his undoing."

"Who is it, lad?"

"Uh-uh. He probably doesn't know you're involved, Red, and if you get out of this you'll be a witness to the monster. If you know, you'll try something and get yourself splattered or worse."

"I want t'know the name of the slimy bastard who's doing this, boy! I don't take kindly to it!"

"Relax. Let others take care of it. You got a family here, Red. They're not gonna let you off the island, and there's no way you could get away with your wife and youngest."

The older man sighed, knowing it was true enough. "So how do
you
plan to get out of here?

They got the damn computer, boy! Even if you get out, they can stick you on the most wanted list of fifty nations as the man who murdered the Queen and stole the Crown Jewels, and the stupid shits in every law enforcement body in the world will shoot first and ask questions later."

He nodded. "I know. One step at a time, Red. John Tussey still have that little sailboat of his over at the fishing pier?"

"Yeah, but it's beached and tied down 'cause of the surf."

"I'll get it in quick enough if I have to carry it out beyond the breakwater on my back. I have to get off, though, that's for sure. Ross is one of those types who'd cheerfully obey a shoot-first order if he had written instructions in hand, particularly if it was me."

"That's right enough. But—say! Listen!"

The air was suddenly alive with sound. A stiff sea breeze blew through the broken window and cracked walls and loosened joints, whistling as it did so. The nearby surf crashed with regularity in the distance, and they didn't have to shout any more. The awful sound-deadening effect was gone, and through the broken window they could see what might be the first light of dawn.

Red looked at MacDonald. "Gone? Or a trick?"

"I don't know. Wait a couple of minutes, though, just to make sure. You might tell me why the night shuttle never came down and why you were riding up on horseback."

"The first was the cause of the second, of course. I didn't like it when Harry never showed, so I checked and found that none of the damned carts they left would start. Nothin' to do but get one of the horses and go on up and find out. I was on my way when I ran into you."

"Uh huh. Bet those carts work now. Hang on. I'm going forward. You keep a look at that window just in case."

He approached slowly, tensely, stepping over debris and ready at any cause to dash back to the altar, but he finally reached the door. Gingerly, he pushed it open with a foot, half expecting something to grab it and pull him out to his death, but nothing happened. He cautiously peered out and saw, looking up the mountain, that all of the orange guide lights were illuminated.

Red was suddenly behind him, carryng a candlestick. Cautiously, they stepped out into the churchyard and beheld the flip side of their own ordeal. The exterior looked in bad shape, with parts of masonry fallen away and roofing tiles all over the place. The walk to the church was paved, and the area immediately around was cinder, so there weren't any tracks as such to see, but almost none of the cinder remainded.

There was blood all over, and part of horse scattered this way and that, some in clumps that could not be recognized. The head, however, they spotted over in the cemetery.

"Stuck it right on Sir Robert's grave, the bastard," Red muttered. "Come on. Let's get you away before they realize they failed and send down a few boys with guns."

Although it was crudely chocked on the beach, the two men had no trouble getting the small sailboat into the water, although it took some effort and determination to get it far enough out to keep it from being immediately taken back in. Red was invaluable; MacDonald doubted that he could have managed it alone. Now, though, with it bobbing and under control, it was time for Red to leave. The sun was now up, and back in the village there could be seen lights in some of the windows and there could be heard the sounds of many people arising to the new day.

Red looked back uncertainly. "What'll I tell 'em, Greg?"

"Just tell it exactly like it was. Don't leave
anything
out. If anything, it'll confirm what they think I know. Answer all their questions, submit to all their tests, even lie detector or drugs. And turn it over to them. Tell 'em it's too big for you."

"And where'll you head?"

"I'm not going to say that, Red. I'm not out of the woods yet, either. I'm going to be hunted today, I think, and the odds are even they'll find me. If I don't—well, just hang loose. I'll be back."

"You're crazy if you come, lad, just as I'm crazy to stay, but you'd better get goin' before all bloody hell breaks loose." He sat in the boat, soaked through, and stuck out his hand. "God protect you, Mac, as He did last night."

"You too, Red," he responded, taking the hand and clasping it warmly.

With that, Red went over the side and with little effort made it back to the beach. MacDonald hoisted sail and made for the open sea as fast as he could, praying for a stiff wind in the right direction and good weather. Because of the direction of the breeze, he went up along the sheer cliffs on the west side of the island.

He hadn't expected to get this far, and hadn't thought beyond it, but now he realized what a hue and cry there would be and just what a search would be on—and it was going to be a clear, sunny day. There were plenty of islands to hide out on for a few hours and catch some sleep while keeping the small boat under some cover, but he knew they'd think of that.

But he'd studied this island in minute detail when he'd challenged and beaten their old security system. Some things he hadn't included in his reports or plans, and his mind raced now. There were a few jagged inlets on this side, with sheer walls and good cover from both landforms and brush. He picked the second one he came to, and managed to anchor the small boat and cover it with brush and bushes under a rocky outcrop. He settled down then, on board, using the seat for a pillow, and tried to relax.

Let them search all the nearby islands. He'd remain here, right under their noses, until dark.

Then he'd make his run. When you've cheated a damned monster, Ross and his ilk didn't seem nearly so threatening.

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