Skull Hunter, 3
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Table of Contents Part 1 appears in this issue. |
| Conclusion |
“I kind of figured that out,” I said in a matter-of-fact way.
“She has a strong power that she cannot fully control and is not completely aware of.”
“What kind of power?”
Dudley walked to the window. “This kind of power.”
“You mean the storm?” I said, shocked. “She caused this storm?”
“In a way, yes,” Dudley stared out for a moment. “You see, her parents knew of this power and were able to control it and her. But now that they are gone...”
“And there’s no one to stop her,” I said as the implications became overwhelming. “What can I do against such power?”
“You will find the way,” said Dudley as he turned to me. “The answer is there. You just have to find it, and you will, when the time is right.”
“Wait a minute. If you’re an Angel, then why...”
“Haven’t you ever heard that it’s wrong to question the ways of God?” he said, smiling. “Let’s just say that you are chosen and have been called.”
“Okay, but...” I said as Dudley vanished from view. “ So now I guess I go on a road trip for God, at three o’clock in the morning, to stop a six-year-old orphan from burying Chicago in snow. Yep, this year just gets better and better.”
The next three hours went by very slowly as I made may my way inch by inch through the blinding snow. The wind howled outside and my wipers couldn’t keep up with the ice accumulating on the windshield. Somehow, the car managed to stay on the slick road as it barreled through the deep drifts that had built up on the highway. Several times, I seriously thought about turning back as the ridiculousness of it all hit me.
Nevertheless, call it stubbornness or stupidity I continued until finally the gates of The Chicago Nursery and Half-Orphan Asylum loomed ahead. I drove down the tree-lined driveway and stopped just shy of a light post. The storm was howling even stronger as though this was the epicenter of its rage.
It took all my strength to open the car door, which was ripped from my hand. Barely able to see, I plowed through the deep white powder to the front door and knocked. I could barely hear my fist hit the wood as the wind howled around me. Even though it was a short distance to the house, I was frozen by the time the door swung open.
“Are you him?” asked an older woman in a long black dress. Her face was that of fear and hope, like that of someone who had been praying for a miracle. “Are you him?” she asked again impatiently.
“It depends on who you were expecting,” I replied, shivering.
“Come with me.” She gathered the hem of her dress and rushed down a narrow hallway. She paused, just long enough to look back and see me standing, confused. “Come, now!”
I did as I was told. I followed her past a large dining area filled with children. They were all huddled together either for warmth or safety, I couldn’t tell. She led me to a back staircase, where she stood shivering in fear.
“Up there, it’s up there,” she said, pointing.
“What’s up there?”
“Her, the girl.” She spoke in whispers, as though she wanted to run away. “He said you’d be coming for the girl.”
I didn’t have to ask who, I knew it must have been Dudley. I placed my hand upon the handrail; it seemed to be vibrating as I made my way up the stairs. There was a light at the upper landing; the air seemed thick and heavy. Several wooden doors lined a hall that led in both directions. I listened, but all I could hear was the sound of the wind wailing outside.
“Cindy,” I called out.
“NO!” a voice screamed in my head as a force threw my body down the hallway.
“Cindy, I’m here to help you,” I said, slowly rising from the floor.
“NO!” the voice pounded inside my head. “They’re gone, they’re gone... NO! I won’t let them be gone.”
I felt her presence behind a door down the hall. I quickly rushed for the door and opened it. Inside I was frozen with shock. The room seemed to be spinning and warping around me. The ceiling looked as though it had melted into the floor; the walls curved and twisted around themselves.
In the center sat a small blonde-haired girl rocking back and forth, bathed in a red glow that emanated from her like needles. It was hard to focus as the chaos around me shifted continuously, throwing me off balance.
“Cindy, please let me help you,” I managed to say.
Her head snapped forward and her eyes drilled into my soul. “I hurt inside. Here, you help me hurt.” And with that statement, my world stopped.
I was suddenly standing in a field, growing wild with tall grasses as high as my waist. The sun felt warm against my face as a calm breeze bristled the hairs on the back of my neck. Across the field, I saw a woman and a small child.
“Abbey... Nessa?” I called out, excited. I tried to move towards them, but my feet wouldn’t move. Looking down I was horrified to see that my foot was buried ankle deep in the belly of a naked man’s body. The man opened his eyes and stared at me with a gaping expression. All around me, bodies were scattered in the field, moaning, reaching their torn, bloodied arms to me. I felt them pulling me down. I tried to call out to Abbey, but no sound would come out. I pushed with all my strength, but I couldn’t scream as the wave of dead, rotting corpses surrounded me.
The next thing I knew I was back in my office in Chicago. It was pitch black except for a faint glow from the window. I could feel eyes staring, and hear the sounds of heavy breathing all around me.
Rushing for my desk I tried to turn on the desk lamp, but it wouldn’t come on. The walls of my office began to pulsate. I reached into a drawer and pulled out my gun. Shadowy, whispering voices called my name as the walls began to close in on me. I fired my pistol, not really sure what I was shooting at. Finally, the walls crushed my couch and desk, pressing me against the window.
The glass shattered and I was plummeting towards the cement sidewalk below. I felt my body hit with a sickening thud as I heard my bones break against the hard surface. A wave of unbearable pain coursed through me as people walked past my mangled, broken body.
I began to black out when I heard my name. I turned and found myself in a familiar cabin in Wisconsin. Again the voice called out, and I walked towards it. It was coming from behind a door. I slowly opened the door and saw Abbey sitting on the side of a bed crying.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, but it was as if she couldn’t hear me. “Abbey, it’s me, Rick.” She continued to cry uncontrollably. I walked over and noticed that a figure was covered up in the blankets. “No... not Nessa!” I cried out and quickly pulled back the blanket. I was horrified to see my body lying there. Two colored stones were placed on my eyes, and my hands were folded against my chest.
I stumbled backward in shock. “This can’t be.” I said unable to draw my eyes away. Abbey rose from the bed and walked to a wooden stand across the room. She looked back at my corpse, her face red and swollen with grief. Her hand grabbed something from the stand as she turned, faced the bed. I saw of something metallic in her hand. “No!” I screamed as she lifted a pistol to her head.
I rushed towards her, but just before I could reach her, the room went black and I was all alone except for a distant light. It took all my strength of will to run towards it; my legs felt like lead weights. When I got there, I saw a tall chair and a man with a little girl sitting in his lap. He was reading a story to her. A pretty woman appeared next to them, smiling as she kissed the little girl on the forehead. I stepped forward, covered in sweat, and they looked up at me. The man smiled at me and motioned for me to come closer, but the little girl frowned. It was Cindy, and she seemed angry.
“You go away from here,” Cindy said. “I won’t let you take them away from me.” The man and woman just kept smiling and looking at me. I began to understand that she had hidden herself away in this world, where her mother and father could be with her.
“I’m here to help you, Cindy,” I said calmly.
Cindy got down from her father’s lap and walked to me, scowling defiantly. “I don’t need you. Go away.”
“Cindy, I won’t take your mother and father away from you.” I knelt down to her level. “But those people aren’t your parents. They are your memories.”
“I don’t care. Go away. I can make you go away.”
“Wait, please,” I begged. “Look at those people. Are they really the mom and dad you remember? Can she answer your questions and tuck you into bed? Can he wipe your tears and make you feel better when you’re sad? When they hug you, do you feel warm and safe — or kind of empty inside?”
“I don’t... I don’t understand,” she said as her expression began to soften.
“Those aren’t your mommy and daddy. They are a memory that lives in here,” I said, pointing to her head. “And a feeling you have in here.” I pointed to her heart. “No one can ever take that away from you. You can hold onto that forever. When you feel sad or alone you can close your eyes and remember them the way they were.”
“But I have them here with me now,” she said, confused.
“No, you have a vision of them, like a picture,” I explained in a soft, comforting voice. “You can’t live in a picture. Come with me. I can help you feel safe again.”
“But...” she said as tears began to form in her eyes. I looked at the fading image of her parents still smiling. “I’ll miss them.”
“Yes, but that’s okay. When you miss someone, it means that you are thinking of them As long as you are thinking of someone, they’re never really gone. You don’t have to stay here any more. You can take them with you, in your heart and mind.” I watched her as the image continued to fade away until it was gone.
“Goodbye,” she whispered. Turning to me, she leaped into my arms and began sobbing uncontrollably. I stood up, the darkness around us began to focus, and we were back in the room at the orphanage. I wrapped her in a blanket, carried her out of the room, and down the stairs. The woman in the black dress gasped as we passed her. I opened the front door and stepped outside.
The storm was gone. The sun, cresting the horizon, was making the snow sparkle in the new dawn. Placing her gently in the back seat of my car, she closed her eyes and fell into a deep sleep. I knew what I had to do and where I had to take the little girl.
Several hours later, I stopped the car. I stepped out into the fresh snow. The door to a small cabin opened, and a little girl rushed to me.
“Mister Rick!” exclaimed Nessa as she wrapped her little arms around my neck.
“Hey, kiddo,” I said hugging her tightly. “I told you I’d be back.”
“Yes, you did,” said a calm woman’s voice from the porch.
“Abbey,” I said, setting Nessa down and taking off my hat. “I... I brought someone.”
“Hey momma, there’s a girl in the back seat,” Nessa called.
“Yeah,” I said a little embarrassed. “About that, you see...”
“No need to explain,” Abbey said smiling. “I knew you were coming, and why.”
“But how...” I asked, but she just smiled, knowing that I already knew the answer. I stepped onto the porch and stared into those eyes that I had been dreaming about. “Abbey, I know you said that I wasn’t ready, and, well, maybe you’re right, but...”
“We can talk about that later,” she said as her eyes twinkled. “You’d better bring her in before she catches cold.” I nodded and walked back to the car where Nessa had her nose pressed against the window.
“Mister Rick, are you staying for Christmas dinner?” she asked in a small voice.
“Christmas?” I asked confused. I had totally forgotten that it was Christmas. “I didn’t... I mean I forgot and I don’t have any...”
“You have brought us two great gifts,” said Abbey. “What a better way to celebrate this holy day than to give the gift of hope to someone who has lost everything. Your gift shall bless this home.”
“What’s the second gift?” I asked, confused.
“Well, we’ll discuss that later. Come inside and bring your gift with you.”
The warmth from her smile filled me and I felt as though a heavy weight was lifted from my soul. I quickly gathered Cindy into my arms and carried her toward the house. I could hear Sam’s words echoing in my head as I stepped onto the porch: “Every day alone is a wasted day,” he had said. For the first time in a long time I wasn’t going to waste a day.
Copyright © 2006 by S. Michael Leier
