Chapter 39

Cleaning up the fallen deputies only took a few minutes, mostly in carrying their limp bodies out and stuffing them into their cars. Turning them to ash was only a couple seconds effort. The Sheriff's body was a problem. He was already dead, so I couldn't link and complete what I'd started. The best I could do was put his body into a vehicle, douse him with alcohol and light him up. It would have to be good enough.

I hustled the girls out into our car with all our bags, checked out of the hotel without a single comment from the clerk on duty and we drove out of Dover, headed back north towards the Van Luten's mausoleum.

When we stopped in front of the fancy iron security gate I handed Izzy the card Dr. Wills had given me—the one with his official phone numbers on it—and one of the Glocks.

"Pull the car away from the gate and keep your eyes peeled. If I'm not back in an hour, get out of here and away from Dover then contact Dr. Wills and tell him what happened. If you see anyone coming, anyone who isn't me, don't wait, don't think, don't discuss... get going. I love you." I told her and kissed my big sister gently. I got out from behind the wheel and was met by Lilly and Peggy. I hugged and kissed each of them, waiting until they were back in the car before giving each one a spark for their rings. I drained half the rush of emotions from them and turned to the gate.

I was all set to climb up and over when I noticed that the two halves weren't touching.

"What good is a security gate that isn't locked?" I muttered softly to myself.

Pushing against one side I made enough room to slip between them and began jogging up the drive towards the house.

'A security gate that isn't secure... small town cops that make early morning house calls... hotel clerks that don't realize a platoon of police have just raided one of their rooms... what's wrong with this picture?' the Darkness asked.

"Everything." I hissed, maintaining my pace.

'No shit, Sherlock! Care to narrow it down?'

"Where was the household staff this afternoon? A place the size of this one should have a small army to keep it up."

'Yeah, that's one... another good question would be "Why, with all the time you spent talking to Charlie's parents, didn't you link to either of them?"'

"I didn't... no I didn't, did I? That is a kinda odd."

The house was growing larger and more distressingly ugly as I got nearer. I could see one lit window on the bottom floor, but otherwise the place looked deserted. No cars on the driveway, no movement, no nothing. Granted it was still quiet early, but knowing that they'd just sent the sheriff after an armed man who'd admitted to killing two people, you'd think there would be a bit more activity while they waited for a report.

'Maybe they aren't waiting for a report because they don't expect to get one.'

"That could only be true if they didn't expect the cops to succeed... if they sent them to die. What would be the point of that?"

'To piss you off, get you mad enough to come back here. To not be thinking clearly.'

"Yeah, right. Which means someone thinks they can take me one on one."

'And you're marching up the path like Sherman marching to the sea.'

"I'm expected. They know I'm coming."

'But they don't know when, or how. Why give away anymore than you absolutely have to?'

"Good point." I said to myself and juked off the path onto the lawn and began moving between the fancy lawn sculptures and rose bushes. At the same time I began focusing on feeling blank and empty and started broadcasting that sense of nothingness around me.

Moving quickly thru the maze of hedges and bushes I swept my eyes over the front of the house. The front door was wide open and I could just make out a flickering of yellowish light inside.

'The gate's unlocked, the door's wide open and there isn't a soul in sight. Something's rotten in Dover.'

This was all wrong. Very, very wrong. I was being invited in. Hell, the red carpet had practically been laid out for me.

Where was the welcoming committee?

Keeping low, I moved forward as quietly as I could, approaching the open doorway from the left side. I still didn't feel quite right about the way events were playing out, but there didn't seem to be much I could do to change things. I had a choice of moving forward into what was obviously a trap, or to back off and leave. And if I left I'd probably never know what this had all been about... unless it came back to bite me in the ass one day.

'Why did you come here in the first place?'

"Charlie invited us. Hell, she damn near dragged us here with her."

'Why?'

I had to think about that one. Why had Charlie wanted us to come with her? I'd fixed her hysterical laughing, and the girls had offered her a place to stay with us... while I'd been in the shower. We were supposed to have dinner with Charlie and her parents and then she was going to come back with us to Virginia... but I'd gotten angry and we left, leaving Charlie behind. Why had I done that?

'Why indeed? Even if you get angry you don't lose sight of what's important... or your objective.'

And I hadn't linked with Mr. or Mrs. Van Luten. I relied solely on what I could get from watching them. And considering the confrontation with the Sheriff and his deputy prior to meeting them I should have been more than eager to find out what they were feeling.

I stepped inside the doorway quickly and pressed against my back against the wall, listening for movement.

Silence greeted me, inviting further exploration and demanding even more caution.

Oddly enough the house wasn't so bad in the dark. The ugly décor was masked by the deep shadows and thick blanket of darkness. Even with my excellent night vision I had a hard time seeing more than vaguely defined shapes before me as I made my way down the short hallway and into the large expanse that fronted the monstrous staircase.

At the top of the stairs was a small lamp mounted on the wall which held a dully glowing yellowish bulb, the only light source I'd encountered so far.

Maintaining my broadcast of nothingness I crouched down low and listened carefully for sounds, any sounds. Nothing. Not a thing. I placed the tips of my right hand lightly on the polished wooden floor beneath me and tried to feel for vibrations. I waited patiently for a count of twenty before I finally felt the tiniest of tremors.

I crouched there for another count of twenty, taking long, slow, deep breaths and waiting for a repeat. The house smelled differently than it had when we'd been there the day before. More dank and musty, more uncared for and abandoned. There! Another tiny little vibration worked its way thru the pads of my fingers and along my nervous system.

'Things are not as they seem to be, my love.'

"Carlie? I thought you were gone."

'Not as long as you remember and love me.'

"What's not as it seems?"

'Almost everything.'

"I'll do what I can for Charlie... and I'll keep your promise."

'Protect them Ike. They're old and they need your help.'

I think my mind had the hiccups for an instant, because I lost track of my thoughts, lost track of my emotions and lost control of my broadcasting.

Protect them? They're old?

Oh shit.

Rising from my crouching position like a sprinter from the blocks I started up the stairs two at a time, keeping my weight on my toes to minimize the impact of my weight and hopefully eliminate any thumping or creaking. As I reached the upper landing a figure emerged from the depths of the shadows and confronted me.

"Hello lover... I've missed you."

I stood there, sipping my ten ounces of peppered vodka and listening to two college seniors discussing the relative merits of deconstructionist theory, when I noticed the woman who was standing next to me. I had to look down a bit. She was only five feet five inches tall. Her hair was reddish, but not like mine; hers was a darker, more burgundy-ish color. Cut short, it was only slightly longer than the ROTC students I'd seen marching around campus. Her skin was pale, but darker than my own and her eyes were an alluring hazel mix of brown and green. Her body reminded me somewhat of Vickie Carter's. Like a cheerleader or a gymnast.

She smiled up at me, inviting me to...

Beats me what the invitation was for. But I wanted to attend, whatever it was.

"Hi, I'm Ike."

"Hello. I'm Carlie. You aren't supposed to be here, are you?"

Damn! Busted and I hadn't even finished my vodka.

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, I haven't seen you actually talk to anyone since you got here."

"Maybe I'm not the talkative type?"

"You look like you might be a football player but you haven't gone to hang with them, so that's out. And you haven't jumped in and started matching wits with these quasi-intellectuals here, so I'm guessing you aren't a frat-boy."

"Okay sheriff, you've got me. Take me away. I won't put up a fight."

Carlie grinned up at me, a genuinely friendly grin.

"Now that would be a shame." She reached up and took my arm and led me towards the front door.

Just as we were leaving a voice called out and caught our attention.

"HEY, Carlie... wait up." A good looking blond guy about her age forced his way thru the mob of bodies and joined us. "Hey babe, where you off to? The party's just getting started."

Carlie's grip on my arm tightened a little bit.

"Harve, this is Ike. Ike... my friend, Harve Lattimor. Harve, my new friend Ike and I are going out for some coffee and conversation. You have a good time. I'll see you later."

I'd been watching the little play unfold around me, marveling at the complexity of the illusion... the sounds of clinking glasses and bottles, the interplay of voices, the smell of beer, cigarette smoke and burning incense... admiring the ability it took to make it all appear so very nearly real. But it wasn't, and I knew it wasn't. As soon as I layed eyes on Harve I felt an urge to burn him to a cinder, but I realized that he was no more real than the image of my lost love beside me. It was all so two dimensional.

"Stop it Charlie. You're pissing me off."

The image of Harve and everyone around us faded away and I was back at the top of the staircase with Charlie standing before me.

She smiled up at me. "You have the most orderly mind I've ever been in. So precise and exacting; so logical. Harder to read than anyone else I've known too. And you don't get fooled by your own memories. Most people do, you know. They're easy to confuse and lead. Why do you suppose that is?"

"I can tell the difference between what is and what I'd like to be. I don't spend a lot of time wishing things were different."

"Exactly! That's what makes us perfect for each other; your grasp of reality and my control of illusion. Together we'd be unstoppable. You have an in to the seats of power. You can make people feel what you want and I can make them see what I want. Together we could rule the entire planet. We could be gods!"

'God's aren't very good at sharing! No more than ordinary people are.'

Charlie took a quick step back. The change in my voice surprised her. "You don't trust me." she said. It wasn't a question.

'Why would we trust you, little girl? You set the Sheriff on us, twice... lied to us, misled us, and attempted to make us perform for you like a trained dog. You didn't ask for help or assistance, didn't even try to form a partnership... until you realized that your feeble illusion wasn't going to work. There is nothing in you to trust.'

"Charlie," I said, rejoining the conversation, "I'm already closer to being a god than you'll ever manage. And I don't want to be one."

"Fine... but I do!" she snarled at me and everything around me faded away.

The sounds of aircraft flying low over my position woke me. I'd been dreaming, wildly scattered and vivid images that made no sense and that fled from my mind as I came fully awake. My heart was pounding hard and I was sweating. I stayed low against the ground and slowly lifted my head to take a look around, scanning for movement, trying to get the roar of the jets out of my ears so I could figure out what, if anything, was near me.

Daylight was fading. I took a long gulp of water from the camel pack tube near my chin then closed it off. I couldn't detect any movement and I didn't hear anything moving nearby, so I very slowly began working myself out of my shallow grave.

The holes over my hip hurt like the devil, a throbbing ache that called out for attention. I opened my BDU jacket and peeled off the bandage pad in front and examined the wound. It was reddish, swollen, tender and oozing, with thin streaks of color beginning to radiate outward. I pressed in and around the opening and bloody yellowish pus erupted. I clenched my teeth against the urge to cry out. I wiped off the viscous liquid with the dirty pad and got out my little first aid kit. Forcing the mouth of the antibiotic gel tub into the hole I squeezed some of the contents into the wound, and applied another pad and taped it in place. Then I did the same, as well as I could with the hole on the opposite side.

New bandages in place, I packed up my gear, took out part of an MRE and choked it down. There were only two full MREs left, now one and a half, and they would have to last me till I reached our lines. I relieved myself into the shallow trench, then dumped the bloody pads and the MRE wrappers in with it and covered it all; doing my best to hide that anyone had been there.

I checked my heading with the compass and started jogging south east. Pick 'em up, put 'em down.

Half an hour later the pain in my side started affecting me to the point I that I was walking more than running. If this kept up I'd never make it back. I stopped and dug into my gear and took out one of the syringes of morphine and injected it. I bent the needle and buried the syringe in a small hole.

Pick 'em up, put 'em down. "I don't know, but I've been told/Eskimo pussy's mighty cold."

My stride improved as the burning pain in my side faded away. I started feeling lighter, faster.

Pick 'em up, put 'em down. Left, right, left, right, left... left... left, right, left...

Oh, shit it hurts.

No. I hurt. It's me that's hurting. Got to keep these things straight or I could end up a basket case. Wouldn't want that to happen, now would we?

I stopped moving. I couldn't see any movement. I couldn't hear any screaming or crying, moaning or whimpering.

I sagged to my knees, holding one hand above my hip. It felt wet; sticky wet.

I looked around... daylight. Late afternoon, but it's still hot and sunny. I was heating up and my exposed face and hands were starting to burn.

I soaked up the pain... realizing that it was all faintly unreal. I dug deeply into my memory for the depths of pain that I remembered from those days not so long ago and began broadcasting my pain and agony, amplifying it several times over as it emerged from me.