Witch Lights (20 page)

Jeremy spoke loudly above the copter's roar. “We'll have plenty of time to talk. Let's go, Ray. It's time you came to where you belong. The world is changing. The old world is gone. We need your help.”

Behind them something exploded in El Varón's house and Ray flinched. He looked back. A second-floor glass window had blown out. The entire building was now a mass of flames against the darkening sky.

He'd gotten so close.

The guards helped him climb into the helicopter, and soon it lifted into the air.

It was dark in the back of the covered truck, with only two small utility lights casting circles in the blackness. Ellen and William were dressed in fresh clothes, Ellen in a men's T-shirt and khaki shorts and William in green camouflage pants and a shirt several sizes too big. Steve had helped clean them up the best he could, washing off the blood and bits of gore.

A young Mexican man in body armor offered them food, but neither of them could imagine eating.

They sat on cushions among a half dozen soldiers, Steve in the middle with his arms around both of them. William was still dazed, unable to talk or focus on what was being said to him, and when Steve tried to force him to speak, Ellen said, “No. Leave him for now.”

Steve nodded. He whispered
I love you. That's all that matters
into William's ear.

Ellen didn't want to talk, either. It was enough just to be held.

The heavy truck shimmied beneath them. Across from them, the other soldiers stared. They had taken off their masks and body armor, though they still kept their rifles by their sides. They were all Hispanic, short haired, and quiet. Cold men. Following orders.

When William fell asleep she finally felt she could talk to Steve. She asked him how he had found them.

“It's a long story. I don't think you want to hear it all now. There's time for that later.”

She nodded and laid her head against his shoulder. “I still can't believe it. It doesn't seem real.”

“It's real,” he said.

“Where are we going?”

“Home,” Steve said. “Not our old home—we can't go back to Blackwater. Things are different now, back in the States—but you don't need to know about that right now. All you need to know is we're going somewhere safe. Where we can make a new home together. Just the three of us.”

“I can't even imagine that,” she said. And started crying.

She awoke with a start and sat up. The truck wasn't moving anymore. How long had she slept?

William was curled in a ball beside her, a puddle of drool staining the pillow around his mouth. His eyes rolled around behind his eyelids. Dreaming. She hoped it wasn't a nightmare.

One of the soldiers—a gaunt, angular young man—was staring at her. When she looked at him he looked away. All the others were gone.

Where was Steve? Her heart started jackhammering.

The back gate of the truck was open. The sun had risen and orange light spilled inside. She shielded her eyes and walked to the open door. Lifted the canvas flap.

The soldiers were standing around talking and laughing. A few of them were drinking bottles of beer. Two Humvees had pulled up behind them.

No sign of Steve. One by one the soldiers stopped talking, turned, and stared at her.

“
Dondé está
Steve?” she asked. Her voice trembled. How could he have left them? Where could he have gone? Her heart felt like it was going to explode out of her chest and her fingers were going numb. A panic attack. That's what it felt like when it started.

“Here, Ellen.”

Steve walked out from a patch of brush, pulling up his zipper.

She exhaled. Thank God. It was no wonder she was panicking at nothing, though. After all they'd been through, she and William would both be lucky to not have crippling long-term PTSD. Far worse than what Steve had when he left the military. He'd seen the worst that humans could do to one another, but they had seen real monsters.

Steve smiled.

The other soldiers weren't looking at Steve. Their eyes followed one of their own—a tall man with one arm concealed behind his back. He was walking toward Steve.

Someone tapped her shoulder from behind and she jumped. “Jesus,” she said. She turned around. It was the gaunt soldier who had been watching her, his face blank and emotionless. “You scared me.”

His hands tightened on her arms.

“Excuse
me,
mister—”

She looked over her shoulder. The soldier who had been walking toward Steve raised his hand. Behind Steve's head.

The truck's engine started.

Time slowed. Steve's smile faded and disappeared. He saw from the dawning horror in her eyes what was going to happen.

The gaunt soldier whipped her head around. He smiled at her, his hands wrapping themselves tightly in her hair. His eyes said everything she needed to know.

The gunshot exploded in her ears.

She struggled to get out of his grasp, but he held her tightly. From behind the soldier she heard William stir. His voice was panicked. “Mom? What was that?”

The gate slammed closed behind her.

“Mom?”

A bolt slammed behind her and the truck lurched forward.

Ray sat numb, not speaking, for the duration of the flight. The noise made it difficult to talk anyway, and Mantu, his hands cuffed behind his back, wouldn't look at him. He just stared out the window at the rolling green land below them.

Mark sat across from them, playing a game on an iPad, a pistol holstered under his arm. He was still wearing his bulky black body armor.

Ray's hand ached and his mind wouldn't stop racing, but the monotonous hum of the helicopter was lulling him into a stupor. His head nodded. He hadn't slept in days. He hadn't slept in weeks, really, other than a few hours here and there.

When he opened his eyes William was sitting next to him.

“How did you get here?” he asked. Mantu and Mark were gone. It was just the two of them.

“Ray, please help us.” Tears rolled out of his eyes and he wiped his nose with his sleeve. He was wearing a man's clothing—camouflage pants and shirt—which made him look even smaller and more vulnerable. “I'm doing what Mantu taught me. Reaching out with my mind while I'm dreaming. It never worked like this before.”

“But you're here. You're not dreaming.”

William looked at him as if he was daft. “You're dreaming, too. That's how you can see me.”

Ray looked at his left hand. The bandages were gone. And all of his fingers were intact. He wiggled them. No pain. “I guess I am.”

“I don't know how long this dream is going to last. But you have to find us fast. I'm worried about Mom. About what you-know-who is going to do to her.”

“I tried, William. I was so close. I got there and both of you were gone.”

He nodded, then spoke quickly. “I think it's me she's after. It's me she wants, not Mom. I'm scared about what she wants from me—I think she wants to use me to do something really bad.”

“I'll find you,” Ray said. “Where is she taking you?”

But William was gone.

“Ray.”

Mark was shaking him.

“Wake up. You need to put your seatbelt on. We're going to be landing.”

Ray felt groggy but his hand hurt worse than ever. It felt hot, like a bad sunburn. He'd been dreaming about William, but it was fading quickly. It had seemed so real, too. As if they had been really talking to each other. The realization that it had been a dream was like a punch to the stomach.

Mark snapped Mantu into his seatbelt. He was still cuffed. “Sorry, Mantu. I'd let you out of those, but Jeremy—”

“Yeah, yeah. I understand.”

The helicopter started to bank. Mark strapped himself in. “Here we go, boys.”

Ray's stomach lurched. He looked out the window. He had no idea where they were, but there was nothing around for as far as he could see except for an enormous expanse of jungle.

As the copter lowered Ray saw a thread of a road winding through the vegetation. The pilot followed it, gradually decreasing their altitude. Suddenly a wide expanse opened up exposing a complex of rectangular buildings, a bright blue oval swimming pool, and what looked like enormous gardens.

The chopper slowed, held stationary, and began to land.

Mark helped them out after the helicopter blades had slowed. Jeremy had already jumped out and was waiting for them. Ray couldn't figure out how old he was—he could have been fifty-five or seventy-five. His loose white shirt and pants billowed in the copter's wake.

Mark, Mantu, and Ray stood before Jeremy.

“Welcome to Eleusis, Brothers. It's about time.” He nodded to Mark. “Take Mantu for processing.”

Mantu turned to Ray, his eyes dark, then lowered his head. “Come on,” Mark said, and led Mantu away.

Ray watched as his friend was taken toward a large, windowless gray building. There were people everywhere—men and women, all in normal, casual clothing. A few had stopped to watch the helicopter land, but most paid it little attention. The grounds were elaborately landscaped, with flowering gardens, palm trees, cobblestone pathways, even a fountain. Except for a few of the utilitarian, warehouse-like buildings, it could have been a luxury resort. He hadn't expected this.

Above one of the more ornate buildings was a sign in what looked like Greek lettering, and below it, in English, the words
Gnothi Seauton.
What that meant he couldn't guess.

Jeremy smiled. “Welcome to your new home, Ray. There's so much I can't wait to show you.”

The darkness was unbearable. At first Ellen had thought she would suffocate under the black hood, but after she'd stopped hyperventilating she found she could breathe. It was hot, though, like breathing in a sauna.

They'd separated her and William after they'd murdered Steve with a bullet through his head. When she'd screamed for him the gaunt soldier had slapped her so hard her nose bled, then tied her and William's hands and thrown the hoods over their heads. She'd heard William crying out for her as they carried him away.

Blinded under the hood, she had no idea how much time had passed, only that they'd driven for hours along bumpy, rough roads before the ride got much smoother. Then they'd walked her up some stairs into an airplane that had taken off immediately.

She couldn't even weep anymore. They'd been safe and secure one moment, imagining a new life of normalcy, then here she was hooded, her hands tied, separated from her son, and going God knows where.

Ray was gone, Steve was gone, and now William was gone, too. Everything she had ever loved had been taken from her.

In the blackness her eyes started replaying the horrors of the past days: The grinning face of Santa Muerte. El Varón's pained expression as he blurred into a fanged bat-thing. The obsidian blade hacking at the fat guard's neck.

And, worst of all, William standing atop the altar, his eyes gone black while an ancient god inhabited him.

She wanted to believe there was hope left, but there wasn't. She only prayed the nightmare would finally come to an end, and that it wouldn't be too painful of an end.

And that William would live.

When the hood finally came off, the light was so blinding she cried out. She'd lost all track of time. Days or weeks of blackness were all there was, darkness and pain and the unending dreams of severed heads and bat-faced demons.

And now this bright, harsh blindness. She'd been numb but now her entire body thrummed with pain. She wailed softly, her voice alien and pitiful.

Hands touched her face gently. Soft, feminine hands. Then a cool, wet cloth wiped her face as she blinked and tried to focus.

“Shh.” A woman's voice.

The cool cloth dabbed at her eyes. A hand caressed her forehead, her cheek, her neck. She squinted. A woman, with a bright light behind her.

Her eyes began to adjust.

Large eyes. Red lipstick on lips drawn into a smile.

Red hair.

“No,” Ellen whispered.

“Hello again,” Lily said. And then she laughed.

To Mom and Dad—for letting me read all those horror stories despite being warned they would warp me. Which turned out to be true, but I wouldn't have it any other way.

To the Holy Trinity of high school English teachers—Wayne Shipley, Gary Svehla, and the late Barbara Simon.

And to Susan, as always.

Blackwater Lights

Witch Lights

M
ICHAEL
M. H
UGHES
writes both fiction and nonfiction. When he's not writing, Hughes lectures on paranormal, esoteric, and Fortean topics. He lives in Baltimore, Maryland, with his wife, two daughters, and a rabbit. You can follow all of his work at
michaelmhughes.com.

Facebook.com/MichaelMHughesA
uthor

@michaelmhughes