“Fine. There’s probably twenty or thirty.”
The sour odor dissipated.
“Take me to them,” I ordered.
I understood the need for vengeance and justice. Everything wrong with my life lived and breathed, guiding me through Basin’s complex. My daughter should have been the one alive, playing as children did, experiencing new things under my watchful eye.
Children weren’t supposed to die before their parents. Most of the ghosts within me, crying out at the circumstances of their deaths, should have had decades of life left to experience, to live, to survive, and to endure. Maybe I hadn’t met my daughter, maybe I hadn’t had a chance to watch her grow and learn, but I was a parent. I was a father.
The ghosts were children, some older than the others, but children all the same, robbed of their futures.
They deserved far more than dying over and over, used as tools of war.
Giving them a place, giving them a purpose, and giving them a chance to rest in peace once their revenge was complete was the only thing I could do. Without their bodies, I couldn’t bring them back.
Without Jacqueline’s body, I couldn’t bring her back.
The dead wailed at the injustice of it all.
Closing my eyes, I drew a deep breath and let them in.
~~*~~
The first man I killed was waiting for us when we turned a corner. He held a Beretta, pointing it at my head. As I had been taught, I lifted the gun, took aim, and pulled the trigger in one smooth motion. The gun recoiled, and I took the second shot as soon as I was certain of my aim. My first bullet drilled a hole in the man’s head. The second caught him in the throat.
For the first time in my life, I didn’t flinch at the concussive blast of gunfire, nor did I blink. I didn’t give a shit what his name was, although I learned it anyway. Maybe later, I’d remember and regret.
Maybe.
Suzanne’s mouth dropped open as she watched the blood pool around the corpse. “Holy shit.”
The dead were impatient to resume the slaughter. Whether fueled by the death of another or their need, they finally overwhelmed my ability to resist them. They spurred me into action.
I pressed the still-warm tip of the pistol to the small of Suzanne’s back. “Walk,” the dead demanded in my voice.
They left her alive, not because she had been one of them before her resurrection, but because they were saving her for last—for me, and for Evelyn.
I had a feeling it was the only thanks from them I would get for feeding my life to them so they might obtain their revenge and find peace. They clawed away at me, siphoning my strength until I was only faintly aware of following Suzanne.
With the ghosts guiding my hand, I killed those who crossed my path. Guilt or innocence didn’t matter to the dead. Death answered their call, heralded by bursts of gunfire.
I sank into a cold daze, faintly aware of the ghosts hunting down those who had participated in their deaths. While they caged me as they had been caged, they didn’t leave me alone.
As though unwilling to involve such a young child, they left me imprisoned with my daughter. Her presence surrounded me, sheltering me from the rage of the others. I couldn’t tell if she was aware of what they—what I—was doing.
If she did, she didn’t care.
Would she, too, rest in peace once the other ghosts finished their grisly work? I didn’t need to know my baby Jacqueline to love her. All I had left of her was her name, not even a picture.
So long as she stayed, I would hold her close to me and savor her warmth.
When the ghosts were finished, she would be gone and nothing of her would remain.
If I could, I would let her take my body, so she might live. While the dead lived through me, they weren’t me. They controlled me because I allowed them to.
No matter how desperately they tore at me, desiring my life and body, I couldn’t give it to them. I couldn’t give it to my daughter, either.
My awareness of the real world darkened to nothing, leaving me floating in a black void with Jacqueline.
A thump against my chest and a wave of pain rippling through me broke the ghosts’s hold on me. My vision blurred, and it wasn’t until my knees cracked against the floor that I realized I was falling. Somehow, I remained upright.
The pistol slipped out of my numb fingers.
Suzanne stood before me, the bodies of several men lying at her feet. Clutched in her hands was the assault rifle. She smiled at me. “Vests aren’t much use against rifles, are they? You lose, Jackson.”
The dead wailed in my head one final time before they were gone, taking my baby girl with them. The heat of my blood seared as it dripped to the floor. While the dead were gone, one presence remained. Its chill numbed me to the throb in my chest.
If my heart still beat, I couldn’t feel it.
Instead of the conflicting emotions others experienced, I met my death with a sigh of resignation.
Suzanne’s smile widened. “If it makes you feel any better, you got most of them.” Nudging one of the bodies with her toe, she shook her head. “I didn’t like them much anyway. I’ll give you credit, Jackson. You’ve done damage, busting up our lab like that. Unfortunately for you, this is just the beginning.”
Closing the distance between us, she knelt in front of me, tossing the assault rifle aside. It clattered on the floor. “Any last words?”
“Burn in hell,” I wheezed.
Pressing her hand to my chest, she leaned to me, pressing her lips to mine. When she pulled away, she wiggled her bloodstained hand in my face. “You first.”
The floor shivered beneath me, and the presence within me faded, leaving me cold and alone. Rising to her feet, Suzanne kicked my pistol away, stepping back to regard me with a smirk and narrowed eyes. “You were right, by the way. I did murder your demon-spawn daughter. I enjoyed it, too. Every. Last. Second. Of. It. The only thing I regret is that they insisted she be sedated for the procedure. They thought she was too young. Foolishness, if you ask me. Unlike you, at least she died a human.”
Long after I should have fallen, dead from the gunshot wound to the chest, I remained upright. Maybe I wanted to spite her in my last moments, but I refused to move.
Her expression twisted into a sneer. “Just die already.”
While my body had gone completely numb, there was nothing wrong with my sense of smell. The acrid fumes of hot metal and burning plastic stung my nose. My vision blurred as my eyes watered. With a puzzled expression, Suzanne spun around.
Beneath her feet, the floor smoked and glowed red. Shrieking, she jumped back in my direction. Her bare feet punched through the bubbling metal. Flaring a brilliant yellow, her thin gown burst into flame. My mouth dropped open as the red and black of lava boiled from the ground.
The groan of strained metal and tearing rock heralded Suzanne’s scream.
Then she was gone, consumed by flame and molten stone.
~~*~~
I was within twenty feet of lava, and I wasn’t dead. A cold wind gusted through the tunnel behind me, funneling by me to sweep through the gaping holes in the ceiling and floor. Molten rock should have obeyed the laws of physics, taking the path of least resistance.
In defiance of science, it climbed upward, swirling, bubbling, and twisting its way through the floor, punching its way to the surface somewhere far above. The outer layer of the column blackened, with a crimson glow seeping through the cracks.
Somehow, despite Suzanne having shot me at point blank range in the chest, I was still alive.
If I wanted to stay that way, I needed to move.
That, however, was a problem. Waves of pain cascaded through me, centered on my chest. I slumped to the floor, which had warmed beneath me. Time and time again, I had warned prospective buyers about the downsides of bulletproof vests, including the fact that the material didn’t stretch.
If shot, it was vital to remove it, as the impact site would swell.
I needed to take it off, but I had no idea if it was the reason I was still alive. My jacket and shirt were soaked with my blood. Deciding I was dead if I didn’t, I fought to unbuckle the vest so I could shrug my way out of it.
I lost count of the number of times I blacked out in my efforts to peel out of the vest.
My chest was a bloodied mess. All I could tell was that the bullet had penetrated the vest. A few scraps remained of the pouch that had carried the blood diamond.
The dead remained silent, leaving me alone.
Leaning against the wall to catch my breath, I twisted my arm to check my watch. It was eight, but I had no idea if it was in the morning or the evening. Deciding it didn’t matter, I grabbed my dark-colored shirt, easing my way back into it. It took me almost half an hour to button it up. I left my jacket, grabbing my wallet and stuffing it into my back pocket.
With the help of the wall, I staggered to my feet. Breathing hurt, but not as much as the throb accompanying my heartbeat. Backing away from the column of molten stone, I headed back towards the prison.
The lava followed me.
“You have got to be kidding,” I gasped.
The lava bubbled, oozing closer. When I halted, so did it.
Every few feet I had to stop and rest, and with unnatural patience, the molten stone stalked me, although it never came close enough to burn. The absurdity of my situation birthed a giggle. Stabbing agony pierced through my chest, forcing me to wheeze for breath.
While possessed by ghosts, I had gone on a murderous rampage, killing at least twenty people. My ex-wife, dead twice over, had shot me with an assault rifle that should have left my chest a powdered ruin.
Now I had my very own pet volcano, and it knew how to heel. I wondered if it would listen if I told it to stay—or better yet, to go home. When my brother found out, he was going to kill me if Evelyn didn’t beat him to it.
I managed to find my way back to the prison, but a wall of cooling, black stone blocked my escape. While searching for another way out of the complex, I found the bodies of those I had murdered when possessed. I had faint recollections of killing some of them, though there were far more of them than I remembered.
I had to admit that the ghosts had good aim and a surprising amount of mercy—either that, or they wanted to make sure they had enough ammunition. Like the first man I had killed, the dead had been killed with a single bullet to the forehead.
All things considered, I was of the opinion it was a lot better than they deserved.
When I found the lab, the ghosts had been thorough in its destruction. The little that survived was finished off by the lava, which punched through one of the walls to fill the room.
Taking that as my cue to leave, I stumbled away, following the currents of cold air in my hopes of escaping Basin’s compound before the volcano grew tired of toying with me.
~~*~~
In the lava’s glow, I checked my watch, staring at the time in mute disbelief.
The volcano had chased me, step by trembling step, through the underground corridors for six hours. What had once been a four-way junction in the hallway was down to one path; lava herded me from behind, and black stone blocked me from taking the other two halls. Exhaustion numbed me, and I dragged my feet over the floors.
I marveled that the metal didn’t melt the soles of my shoes.
If I made it out alive, Evelyn and the others weren’t going to just kill me. They were going to skin me alive, and I would deserve it. I was tempted to lie down and sleep, but if I did, I’d never get back up.
The idea of dying underground, burned to a crisp by science-defying lava, whipped me on.
I had already broken one promise to my mate. I wasn’t going to give up, not without a fight.
When I finally found a spiral staircase twisting upward, I stared at it in numb shock. The shaft disappeared into the darkness above.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I gasped, wondering how I was going to reach the top.
Once again, the lava bubbled at me, waiting for my move. With the way back blocked by hot, liquid rock, I clung to the railing and started to climb, step by painful step.
While the lava had pursued me throughout the entire complex, it had no interest in the staircase. I counted as I headed up. Five hundred steps and thirty-five breaks later, I reached the uppermost landing. I regarded the metal door blocking my way with a sigh.
To my relief, the deadbolt was on my side, allowing me to unlock it. I grabbed the knob, twisted, and shoved the door open.
It led into a shed. The garage-styled door was open.
Tombstones in neat rows greeted me, illuminated by the glow of fire. A thick haze of smoke and ash hung in the air while embers drifted lazily on the wind.
Sirens wailed in the distance. I staggered through the cemetery. While I was aware of the dead, they left me alone. I made my way to the road, and in numb shock, I sank down to the sidewalk. The fires spread as I watched, at a loss of what to do or where to go.
I had killed my daughter’s killers, including her mother, but how many others would die because of me?
In a numbed daze, I watched Mount Royal burn.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The drugs the doctors were pumping into me robbed me of the willpower and strength to do anything more than glare at the ceiling, wondering where I was and how I had gotten there.
There was something fascinating about the flicker of the light overhead. As though afraid of the doctors and nurses, it waited until I was alone to taunt me with its buzzing and erratic illumination. The switch to turn it off, which was inches away from my hand, may as well have been on the moon. I turned my attention to the button, wondering if I could find the strength to defeat the taunting light once and for all.
It won yet again, buzzing and flickering, mocking me.
I should have been grateful to be alive instead of annoyed at the dying bulb. Somehow, I survived an assault rifle round to the chest coupled with diamond-shard shrapnel embedded in my breastbone. I’d never know for certain how the round hadn’t punched through me, leaving nothing but a bloodied pulp in its wake.