Takedown (23 page)

A
my! My God!”

Amy was snatched from her light sleep by a voice more familiar to her than any other. She opened her eyes to see her twin
sister, Amber, rushing to her bedside.

“Oh, hi, Amber,” Amy sang sleepily. “How was the Mediterranean?”

Amber had been away on a cruise with the new love of her life, Eric. Amy had seen no reason to interrupt her sister’s vacation
with news of the accident.

“Never mind my vacation. Yes, it was great. But somebody should have called me about you.”

“I’m fine,” Amy said with her best reassuring smile, as if no one else knew what they were talking about. “And besides, there
was nothing you could have done. I felt better thinking you were having a good time with Eric. And you did, so perfect.”

“How fine can you be, Amy?” Amber said incredulously. “You’re in the hospital, your house is destroyed, and your decorator’s
dead… and from what I heard from your neighbor, you’re lucky you weren’t killed with him.”

In the instant before Amy’s conscious mind was able to register the meaning of Amber’s words, her chest tightened and neck
cramped as if all oxygen had just been sucked out of the room. “That’s impossible,” she heard her voice say reflexively, but
even her
primeval denial could not black out fears she had harbored from the beginning. Fears that penetrated her heart with all the
sensitivity of cannon blast.

“Impossible?” Amber said.

“Whoever you spoke to is wrong. The house looks much worse than it is and Larry’s fine. Gavin saw him. He didn’t even need
to go to the hospital.”

Amber was about to speak but paused. For an instant, Amy saw her sister’s expression change from bewilderment to awareness
and then back again. It didn’t take much guesswork for Amy to figure out that she’d been purposely kept in the dark.

Amber tried to cover. “You know, the plane lands, I get a change of clothes, and drive over to surprise you and see what I
thought would be a perfect, perfect, house. Instead I see… some damage. Look, Amy, who am I to tell you? Maybe it did look
a lot worse than it really is. What do I know? I’m a computer geek, not a carpenter. And your neighbor was probably exaggerating.
Just some nosey old lady from up the block.”

Amy stared at Amber for all of five seconds before reaching for the phone.

“Who are you calling?”

“A friend,” Amy said. If she was right, there were only three people on the planet who really knew what was going on. One
was Gavin, and she couldn’t believe anything he told her anymore. Maybe she would have done the same thing if she were him,
but she wanted truth, and at this point his truth would continue to be whatever was best for her and the baby. Another would
be whatever poor slob Krogan was controlling. Whatever was happening had to involve the demon, otherwise Gavin would have
been more honest. That left only one person she could count on to speak the truth… assuming Gavin hadn’t lied about him,
too, and he was still alive.

“Delhi Hospital. Can I help you?”

“Mr. Jesse Buchanan, please,” Amy said, her voice quivering, fearful of what she might hear.

“One moment, please… transferring you to room two-oh-three.”

Thank you, God!
Amy thought as the phone rang.

“Hello?” The voice was weak and scratchy, but it was there.

“Buck?”

There was a moment of silence, and Amy wondered if she might have reached the wrong number.

“I was hoping you would call, my dear. I… I haven’t been myself lately. I’m deeply sorry for what you’re going through. I
feel responsible, but there is nothing I can do about it. Are you well?”

“I’m fine, Buck,” Amy said, glancing at her sister, who was listening to every word with severe concern. “You are not responsible
for anything. You only did what we asked and helped more than anyone else could or would have… Buck?”

“Yes.”

“What has Gavin told you about our situation down here?”

Amber closed her eyes. She apparently felt terrible, but Amy could not concern herself with that now. She listened with forced
patience as Buck spoke. As she suspected, Krogan had destroyed the house. Tears fell as he told her about the cement truck
and Larry’s death, as well as the deaths of the tortoise and the zookeeper Lester Davis. What shocked her even more was to
hear that Krogan was now a WWX wrestler, taking on all comers at the coliseum.

When Buck had finished she asked, “How is Samantha doing?”

“Samantha’s fine, my dear. She’s in very good hands.”

Amy wrapped up the call by talking briefly about Buck’s health and wishing him well. She promised to call back soon and hung
up.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Amber said.

“I’m getting out of here,” Amy replied as she slowly and unsteadily slid her feet from under the covers to the cold floor.

“I don’t think so,” Amber said. “You get right back in that bed or I’ll call a nurse.”

Amy stared Amber in the eye. “Gavin needs me, Amber. Don’t you dare keep me from him.”

“Then I’m coming, too. Where is he?”

“I don’t know where he is, but I know where he’ll be.”

G
od was angry, Gavin thought. David Benjamin had said that on their way over to the Nassau Coliseum, riding shotgun in the
Tiger while the others followed in Mullens’s van. He had also given all kinds of analogies and spoken a lot about his own
past experiences, but Gavin only half listened, his main thoughts centered on the fact that God was angry. As He should be!
Gavin wondered if God had as hard a time smiling as he did. Amy would chide him, tell him he needed to stop and smell God’s
roses.

Which made him wonder why he’d never wanted to. How was he supposed to enjoy the roses with all the pain he saw… experienced?
There was just too much going wrong. The only fragrance he wanted to breathe was Amy’s and his little baby-girl-to-be; his
only thoughts were of death to all who tried to stop him. Maybe God could be equally loving and angry with the rest of the
world, but for the moment, Gavin would go with what he thought he was best at: the angry part.

Now, Gavin looked out Mullens’s van window. They were in the parking lot with thousands of other cars. His own Tiger was just
outside the window in the next space.

“Before we go in we should pray for Gavin again,” Benjamin said, his expression aggressively steeled.

“If God is angry, then why doesn’t He step in and change
things?” a quiet Gavin said, drawing all eyes. “I mean… He is God, isn’t He?”

Lauer spoke up first. “He does step in, but mostly through us.”

Benjamin, who never seemed to be short of an analogy, said, “Try to think of God as a judge and you as a cop. The judge gets
angry but works in a system that requires teamwork.”

“If God did everything, there would be no relationship,” Hart-ington added. “There comes a time when He calls on
us
to get involved.”

Gavin studied all the faces looking at him in the van. Strangers, really, though he felt a growing camaraderie. “Do you guys
honestly believe Krogan’s going to confess to murder just because I tell him to in the ring?” he said, remembering how Krogan
had thrown the Ninja guy into the audience like a rag doll.

“You have to remember Ephesians 6:12,” Mullens said. “‘We wrestle not against flesh and blood.’This is a spiritual fight and
Krogan’s body will submit.”

“We?
I’m
the one in the ring. All you guys are doing is praying like sports fans for their home team,” Gavin grumbled, watching out
the window at the people pouring through the coliseum doors. Armageddon would soon begin.

“Would you mind if I read you something about prayer?” Hart-ington asked in his comforting English accent.

Gavin motioned for him to continue.

Hartington pulled a small, leather-bound book from his suit jacket. The book appeared well worn, softly cracked and frayed
around the edges, much like its owner. He arranged himself in his seat, put on a pair of reading glasses, licked his thumb,
and fingered through the thin pages, then cleared his throat and read.

“‘And another angel came and stood at the altar, holding a golden censer, and much incense was given to him that he might
add it to the prayers of the saints upon the golden altar which was
before the throne. And the smoke of the incense, along with the prayers of the saints went up before God out of the angel’s
hand. And the angel took the censer and he filled it with the fire of the altar and threw it to earth… and there followed
peals of thunder and sounds and flashes of lightning and an earthquake.’”

Hartington stopped and looked up. “Chapter eight continues to describe a scene that would give even Krogan the shivers. With
the right type of prayer, God delivers. And when He delivers, Krogan and the rest of his kind are but insects.”

Gavin nodded. “Insects have been around a lot longer than we have, and probably will be around long after we’re gone.”

Gavin was met with frowns all around. “Look, I know you guys are bewildered at how God could choose someone like me to go
up against the likes of Krogan, but it’s simple from where I stand.”

The frowns turned to raised brows.

“He either didn’t choose me or He made a mistake.”

The frowns returned, and Benjamin spoke up. “God has chosen the weak to confound the strong and the foolish to confound the
wise.”

“So you’re saying I’m weak and foolish?”

“No. Contrarily, if you haven’t noticed,” Benjamin said with a warm smile, “we’re the weak and foolish. Apparently, it is
us who’ve been chosen to confound you.”

Gavin produced a rare smile. “Hopefully, you’ve been chosen for more than that. I’m already confounded.”

They all nodded in agreement, then gathered around him, laid their hands on his head and shoulders, and prayed for his faith
and safety. By the time they were done, Gavin was sure he was making a huge mistake.

Inside the coliseum, Gavin followed Father Lauer to his designated prayer position. The three other ministers were already
at their chosen stations, strategically—at least in their minds, Gavin thought—at the north, south, and east points of the
upper rows. Lauer was to occupy the west.

“Listen,” Gavin said to Lauer over the pounding music. “Whatever happens, thanks for helping… all of you.”

“Just be confident. Remember the verses from the book of Revelation Jim read you. This is a spiritual fight, where you have
the decided advantage. When the time comes, we’ll stand at the top of our aisles and pray like there’s no tomorrow,” Lauer
promised.

“Thanks,” Gavin said, then left, mulling over Lauer’s choice of words.

Gavin worked his way down the stairs and through the aisles. On the big screen were clips from Krogan’s earlier fights… if
you could call them that. Gavin tried not to watch. He wasn’t even dressed for a fight. Everyone else who planned to fight
had some sort of costumed gym attire. In his jeans and white polo shirt he’d scavenged from his laundry last night, he looked
and felt more like a bartender than a serious contender. At least the ski mask he’d borrowed from Benjamin’s son would add
a little mystique. But then again, maybe not.

Everyone seemed to be talking about what Krogan was going to do tonight. He heard one skinny, green-haired teenaged girl talk
about how Krogan was definitely going to kill someone, and how it wouldn’t be against the law, because stuff happens in sports.

“Gavin Pierce,” a voice said as Gavin was passing by.

Gavin stopped and turned to see a young black man, twenty at most, with penetratingly clear white eyes, wearing worn but clean
jeans and a white T-shirt. He was sitting back with his hands crossed over one knee, smiling.

“Do I know you?” Gavin asked, wondering if he was even talking to the correct person.

“You have many friends here tonight, Gavin Pierce,” the young man said. His teeth were perfectly straight, pearl white.

“Who are you?”

“One of your friends. I’m here for the fight… your fight with Krogan.”

Gavin was shocked. “What fight? Who told you I was going to fight Krogan?”

“You did, Gavin Pierce,” said another voice on the other side of the aisle.

Gavin turned to see another man staring at him a few rows down. The man was also dressed casually. He was fair skinned with
blond hair and exceptionally clear eyes, which held that same knowing look as the other guy. And that same smile.

“Me?” Gavin wondered if Chris was somehow messing with him for leaving him today and not coming back. “Very funny. I’ve never
seen or spoken to you in my life.”

“But we know you… and we’re here to help. Do not fear. You will be safe.”

“Help?” Gavin said.

“Yes.” He heard yet another voice. Gavin turned again to see a young but completely bald man with piercing blue eyes standing
in the aisle behind him. “Ask and you will receive according to your faith. Do not surrender to the adversary… surrender
instead to God.”

Gavin said nothing, momentarily focused on the words being spoken instead of who the men were surrounding him. He turned to
look back at the first man and found the seat empty. He quickly turned back to the blond man, but he was also gone… and then
so was the man in the aisle, much faster than Gavin believed possible.

“What the—does anyone
else
around here know me?” he asked the people immediately around him.

“Yeah, aren’t you my social studies teacher?” some teenager said, causing his friends to laugh.

“No, he’s my private health teacher,” said the girl next to him. The laughs grew louder.

Gavin left. He didn’t know what to make of what just happened, but he needed to get down to the challengers’ line.

K
rogan was furious as he drove the WWX Ferrari down the ramp to the underworld of the coliseum. Fans lined the ramp walls,
chanting his name as they recognized him. He noticed the guard in the security booth wave and then pick up the telephone as
he passed him.

The pleasure of finally killing Buck fled with the escape of his granddaughter and her friends on horseback. Why the
LULL
had stalled just before he was about to sweep her horse’s feet out from underneath it with the forks, he could only guess.
She didn’t know him like her grandfather and her death would have only added to a glorious day, but the fact that she had
slipped through his fingers was humiliating—and that it had probably happened from unseen intervention was irritating. He
couldn’t wait to get his hands on someone… tear his head off.

He screeched to a stop and heard the female voice of the navigation system telling him for the third time that he had arrived
at his destination.

“Shut up,” he growled as he punched a hole in the Ferrari’s monitor, cutting his knuckles. When that failed to stop the voice,
which was now repeating itself over and over in a robotic-like monotone, he got out of the car, grabbed the rocker panel under
the door with both hands, and with a loud roar, lifted the side of the car up and pushed it over on its back, crushing the
windshield. With the engine
still running and exhaust pipes vibrating, he could still hear the skipping techno-voice of the navigator.

“What are you doing!” screamed Tanya as she ran toward him. Apparently it was she whom the guard had alerted with the phone
call.

“Parking.”

“This is how you treat my car!” she cried, her voice about three octaves higher than usual, staring at the upside-down WWX-3
license plate.

“Like you, it didn’t know when to shut up,” Krogan snarled as he passed her by, starting toward the arena.

Tanya sputtered, staring at her mangled car, then back at Krogan. “You’re late!” she yelled, running after him. “Where have
you been?”

“I’m never late.” Krogan stopped, staring into the vacuum of space. He spun around quickly and looked… searched… his eyes
darting. He felt something… and didn’t like it. An intrusion? He heard the heavy-metal music coming from the arena.
This is my house,
he thought, annoyed that such a twinge in his senses would happen here. He grabbed the blabbering Tanya by the arm and whirled
her into his gaze.

“Hey, that hurt,” was the last thing she said before Krogan called her mind back into submission.

“You will keep your mind as an open channel to me tonight. Stay near while I fight. Stay focused on me… you will hear my
thoughts for you and you will obey my will.”

Tanya nodded and fell into step with his gait as he marched up to the introduction chamber unannounced. Stage coordinators
and crew, startled by his sudden appearance, were scrambling about, calling instructions on headsets, pointing and pushing.
Krogan paused momentarily at the stage opening below the giant screen, not to wait for the stage crews to catch up, but to
search for unseen
intrusions. He couldn’t see them, but he sensed their presence. They were here. Why? He also sensed his own comrades, watching
as they always were… as they should be.

The spotlights found him with Tanya by his side. The crowd erupted in applause and then with chants of his name.

“
Shadahd,
” he yelled, then ripped off his shirt and his shoes and threw them into the audience, leaving torn jeans shorts that he had
put on before he left his apartment. A moment later fireworks exploded at his side, in sync with the pounding bass rhythms.
He started toward the ring.