The Rising: Antichrist Is Born (24 page)

“I can do that,” she managed.

“Are you sure? Should I call someone for you?”

“No, please. Thank you. I can make it to the doctor, and I will get to the church by five.”

Marilena had to call three taxi companies before she found one in Cluj-Napoca that would send a car that far, and they demanded a hefty premium. They were to pick her up in an hour.

Marilena froze when she noticed Mrs. Szabo’s name. They knew her? had known her before? planted her? Was the whole school issue part of the ruse, a setup to pit Marilena against Nicky? And the doctor! Even he, “Doctor Luzie,” and the medical facility were named. But there the file ended. There had to be more!

Marilena moved to Viv’s computer, but it was password protected. She tried every combination of words and numbers she could think of, using Viv’s birth date, addresses, names of friends and associates, words associated with spiritualism. When nothing worked after more than half an hour, Marilena started entering the numbers backward. Viv had been born June 12. Marilena had tried and failed with 612. She tried 216.

As she heard tires in the gravel outside and a horn, the home page opened and welcomed “Viviana” to the Internet. Marilena quickly scanned the lists of folders and files, spotting one titled “SC.” If that stood for Sorin Carpathia, it might have the latest information.

“I’ll hurry,” she said.

Had Marilena not had enough to eat? Something pierced her gut. If anything, she had, in her panic, eaten too much. So why was she light-headed and nauseated? She stayed close to the wall, extending her good hand for balance, and found her way back to the computer.

The SC folder demanded a password as well, and 216 worked again. Viv was apparently, fortunately, not terribly computer literate. The folder contained a list of files arranged by dates, and Marilena quickly deciphered that they matched the documents she had found in the safe. She could have saved so much time and mess by starting at the computer, but how could she have known?

With her vision fast deteriorating, Marilena fought to concentrate. At the end of the detailed list she found documents dated later than what she had read. Why had Viv printed out all this stuff? It made no sense. If she wanted Marilena to find it, why had she not just shown it to her?

Marilena was no physician, but she had read enough in the medical field to know the signs of shock. And that’s where she believed she was headed. Racing against the clock, she squinted at a sentence she feared her own wounded mind had conjured up:

If we can effect this before we reach Cluj-Napoca, you? man will be in place.

Your man? The doctor? Marilena racked her brain to recall the hospital visit. They had not had to wait for a physician; that was rare. And had they gone through the usual red tape—the registering, the insurance check, all that? She couldn’t recall. But the doctor had seemed sympathetic, mentioned that the bite was human, offered to examine the child who had inflicted it. How did that fit? Or was it all part of the plot?

Marilena was paranoid and reminded herself not to chase irrational trails. She heard the horn outside and reached past the computer to pull back the curtain. She gestured, pleading for more time, but she couldn’t tell whether the taxi driver was looking.

When she sat back down she noticed she had brushed the keyboard, and Ikt page had disappeared. She had to refresh it to get back to the list of files, but now she heard the cab moving. He couldn’t leave. Maybe he was just repositioning. But another two short bursts on the horn made her realize she had exhausted his patience.

Marilena leaped off the chair and staggered to the front door. She opened it to a cloud of dust as the taxi pulled out onto the highway. “No!” she wailed. “I’m sorry! I’m ready! Come back!”

But he was gone. As Marilena shut the door, her knees buckled and she dropped to the floor. She landed on her right hip, and a sharp pain shot through her pelvis. As she tried to rise, dizziness forced her down again, and there she lay, panting.

The room swam and she tried to pray. “God, I have given myself to You, admitting I am a sinner and pleading for Your forgiveness, for salvation. Do You not care? Can You not help me? I’m dying.”

Marilena forced herself up to all fours, her knees tender on the wood. She crawled to the phone, noticing dark purple tracks extending from all sides of her bandaged forearm. Her mind kaleidoscoped with conflicting images. She imagined herself on the phone, talking to the hospital and their telling her they needed the name of her doctor. She couldn’t remember it, though she had just seen it in the computer file. In her mind she recounted the treatment, told them it had just been the day before, the time, the injury. No record. No record. No record.

But I need help. Need an ambulance.

We have no ambulances. Call the authorities.

I don’t know the numbers and can’t get to the phone book. Could you call them for me?

That is your responsibility, ma’am.

But I am going into shock.

Call Planchette. Call Viv. Call Nicky.

You know my son?

He is not your son. He is the son of Lucifer.

You know this? Everyone knows this?

Ma’am, you are dreaming. Call the vicar.

You know the vicar? Can you call him for me?

The vicar is Lucifer.

No! No, he’s not! He’s kind, but he’s busy. He’ll see me at five.

The phone was ringing. Marilena shook her head, trying to return to sanity, to real consciousness. Was the ringing real? Or was this also part of her hallucination? She wanted to get to it before the machine picked up.

She reached, but it seemed to drift farther from her the closer she got. She whimpered as the fourth ring ended and the machine kicked in: “You have reached the home of Viv, Marilena, and Nicky. Please leave a message after the tone, and we will get back to you as soon as possible.”

“Ah yes, this is Dr. Luzie, checking on our patient. If she or one of you could call me—”

This was real! But dare she talk to him? She had to take the chance. Luzie? What kind of a name was that? As he droned on about wanting to know if there were any signs of infection or whether she had any questions, she wondered if there was anything to the fact that his name was close to iluzie, “illusion.” Was her mind still playing tricks?

With a desperate reach, Marilena grabbed the phone. “Doctor! I’m here!”

“Ms. Ivins?”

“No! Marilena.”

He hesitated. “Just checking to see how you are, ma’am.”

“Thank you, thank you. I’m in trouble, maybe going into shock, delirious.”

“Have Ms. Ivins get you to the hospital as soon as possible. I’ll meet you—”

“She’s gone! I’m alone. No car.”

“Can you call a taxi?”

“Takes too long…”

“Sir, if you have any decency…”

Marilena heard the phone hit the floor just before she did. She was drifting… drifting… and while she fought to remain conscious, the lure of sweet peace overwhelmed her. Sleep would quiet the cacophony in her brain. She could do nothing for herself anyway. Had she been close enough to the pain pills, she would have taken them all, no question.

“God, grant me peace. And if I am dying, receive me.” Marilena had no idea how long she had lain here. Her watch read four thirty, if she could trust her eyes and her mind. Nearly twenty-four hours since her own son had bit her. She was cold, shuddering. Hungry. Dare she eat? She still felt nauseated. She carefully rolled to where she could get back up on all fours,

then kneel, and finally stand. Woozy.

Marilena sat on the couch. The phone lay on the floor ten feet from her now, and she heard the annoying tones and intermittent recorded message asking whether she was trying to make a call. She should pick it up, hang it up, try Planchette again, leave a message for the vicar, call the hospital. Do something—anything. But the ten feet looked like ten kilometers,

and so she just sat.

Was this how it was to end? Had her foolish, selfish choices led to losing everything, including her son and her life? Waste. What a waste. But Marilena was a fighter. She wouldn’t simply sit and take it. She forced herself to stand, stumbling to the

wall for support until her head cleared. She hung up the phone, then picked it up to dial.

Her survival instinct masked her myriad ailments. She had to get away, but where would she go? She could hide in the woods only so long. The barn might shield her, but he would think of that. She had to get to his car. How delicious was the thought of leaving him in a cloud of dust. But where could she drive? If not straight to the emergency room, she might die. But she would be easily found there too.

Marilena hurried back the way she had come, keeping the cottage between her and him. She peered around the side to see if he was coming her way. From behind a hedge she saw him searching the other side of the place, near where she had watched the car. That left her free to head the other way, toward the barn.

  Star Diamond faced into the stall. The stench overwhelmed her, but she was not about to swoon now. Keeping her distance from the murderous back hooves, she talked soothingly and moved in beside him toward his head. “Easy, Star Diamond,” she said. “It’s just me, boy.”

He was calm, seeming to eye her warily. She didn’t know how much horses knew or remembered, but he should recognize her. Marilena pulled the bridle from a hook on the wall and was grateful the horse didn’t resist as she clumsily got the bit in his mouth and pulled the rest over his nose. The saddle was another matter. It straddled the side of the stall, but with only one good arm, she couldn’t heft it. Was there any way in the world she could ride this horse bareback?

  Thoroughly unsure of herself, Marilena gently tugged the reins, trying to lead the horse. To her immense relief, he turned around. “Good boy,” she said, wondering how to climb aboard. And if she did, what then? If he spooked, there was no way she could stay on, and if he went fast at all, she would surely be thrown. Weil, at least she would die trying.

She reached as far as she could toward his neck and swung her foot over his back. As she settled onto him, his coarse, smelly hair repulsing her, he snuffled and pranced. “Whoa! Easy there, boy. Easy.”

Marilena tried to hold the reins in both hands but had no idea how to thread them through her fingers as Nicky did. One thing she remembered was that Nicky acted gentle and firm at the same time, taking charge but not alarming the animal.

Sitting there in the stall, Marilena could see the cottage. And here came the doctor, if that’s what he was. He would have to come all the way into the dark barn to see her. She prayed he wouldn’t, but she was prepared if he did. As soon as he got within range of the horse, she would press her heels in, rock forward, and yell to get the steed to move. If there was a God in heaven, Star Diamond would trample Luzie, and she would somehow get the horse stopped, get Luzie’s car keys, and get as far away from here as possible.

From her perch she could see the doctor following her tracks in the dust. There went her hope that he would save the barn till last. She leaned forward and spoke quietly. “Ready, boy. Let’s get ready to move.” If she hadn’t feared for her life, Marilena would have laughed at herself, having zero idea whether she could get that horse to do a thing.

As the doctor blocked the light and entered the barn, the horse’s ears pricked and he stiffened. Marilena pulled the reins and pressed her knees against the horse. She tried to make a noise, but that only drew Luzie’s attention. Marilena rocked violently and shook the reins, shouting, “Go! Go now!”

The horse stamped and stepped forward, but the man moved directly in front of him. “Whoa, Stea DiamantV he said, and the horse stopped. How did he know its name? How tied in to Viv could he be?

“Get down, Mrs. Carpathia,” he said.

But she yanked again at the reins, trying to get the horse to move, to rear, to buck, to do anything. She would rather die being thrown against the barn wall than be captured by this pretender. The horse was clearly spooked but seemed to look to the man for instruction.

Luzie reached for the reins and dragged them from Marilena’s hands. “Down. Now.”

Marilena forced herself to slide off the other side and attempt to run. She felt like a fool, lurching, limping, staggering. She whimpered as she hurried to the exit at the other end of the stable, hearing the determined footfall of the man behind her. He wasn’t even running, just striding purposefully, patiently, as if knowing she had nowhere to go and would soon spend herself.

He was mistaken, she thought, to not stay close, because if nothing else, she might be able to lock herself in his car. It would not be an escape, but it would frustrate him. If he meant to kill her, she was certainly not going to make that easy. Mustering her ebbing reserves, Marilena first tried to fool him by tumbling in the dust. She looked back, and sure enough, he slowed and smiled.

Marilena scrambled painfully to her feet and made a mad dash for the car. As she dived into the passenger side and shut and locked the door, he pulled the keys from his pocket and dangled them. She hit the door lock and folded her arms, staring at him. He shook his head and popped the locks with the remote.

How could she have been so stupid? For a few seconds they traded jabs with her relocking the doors every time he hit the button. All the while he was coming closer. “Just get out,” he said. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”

She flashed him the same gesture Nicky had used the day before, but it gave her no satisfaction and only made him laugh. He was looking down at her through the window now, holding the remote before her eyes. He hit the button. She locked the doors again. The next time he pushed the button, she was ready with her good hand on the handle. As soon as the lock popped, she pulled the handle and drove the door into him with her feet.

She yelped with satisfaction as he fell, and she quickly pulled the door shut again and locked it.

He bounced up, face red, eyes smoldering. With a karate kick he drove his heel through the window, showering her with glass.