Riverwatch

Chapter Forty: Preparations

They moved quickly. While it might prefer to travel at night, that didn’t mean the Nightshade wouldn’t travel by day and simply take to the air, disappearing again, only to find another resting place elsewhere. Who knew if they’d be able to track it down again? The next time they might not be so lucky. They didn’t know the range of Katelynn’s talent. It was also obvious that Katelynn had survived the encounter because she’d already been trying to break contact when the beast had become aware of her presence. What would happen if it threw the full weight of its mental powers at her the very instant she sought contact? Would she then have the power to free herself? They didn’t know and couldn’t take the chance. If they could reach the campus before too much time passed, they might be able to stop the beast from leaving, or at the very least, follow it when and if it did.

"Okay," Damon said, a look of weary resignation on his face. "We know where it is, but what good does that do us? We still don’t have a clue as to how to stop it."

When Damon looked up, however, the gleam in Sam’s eyes made it obvious that that might not be the case.

Sam had a plan. Taking a deep breath, he let them in on it.

As Damon sat and listened, something totally unexpected and all but forgotten bloomed in his chest. For the first time since the killings had begun, Damon felt a surge of hope.

When Sam was finished, Katelynn expected the Sheriff to object. What Sam was proposing was as crazy as Jake’s original plan of facing the Nightshade on his own. They simply were not equipped to handle such a task. They should be calling in the National Guard, not trying to assault the beast’s latest lair on their own. She waited for Damon to verbally echo her thoughts.

Katelynn was in for a surprise. With a vengeful light in his eye that matched the one in Sam’s, Damon simply said, "Let’s do it." Using his radio, he called one of his deputies and ordered the man to meet them at the Sheriff’s station with the items they needed. Leaving Katelynn’s, the three of them drove to the station, making a brief stop at a gas station along the way.

A short time later, Katelynn and Sam were pouring old-fashioned soap flakes into mason jars and passing them on to Damon, who filled them the rest of the way with gasoline and screwed on spill-proof lids. While Sam and Katelynn packed them carefully into two black knapsacks, Damon moved over to the gun cabinet behind his desk and selected a rifle. Loading up on ammunition for the weapon, he asked them, "Either of you know how to handle a firearm?"

"A little," said Sam. Katelynn shook her head.

Damon sighed, weapon in hand, he turned to face them, a grim expression on his face.

"Let’s end this," he said.

The three of them left without a word to the rest of Damon’s staff; they simply had no time to explain.

Like a flashback to that evening three months before, the three of them climbed into Damon’s Bronco and headed across town as the sun descended and a light rain began to fall.

When they arrived at the university campus, Damon made a quick stop at the security office to obtain the keys to the campus buildings. About once a month he personally patrolled the grounds, seeing and being seen, so the guard on duty found nothing strange in his request.

Once Damon returned to the vehicle, he drove them over to Keating Hall.

The building loomed above them, and the very sight of it sent chills up Katelynn’s spine. She knew what was hiding inside its cold stone walls. It will be a miracle if we make it out alive, she thought.

Sam, on the other hand, stared at the structure with fierce expectation. He, too, knew what awaited them there, but he welcomed the challenge. That thing had killed his best friend, threatened a woman he cared deeply for, and terrorized the town he called home. It was due for a reckoning and Sam intended to be the one to deliver it.

It was ironic that the Nightshade had chosen this place for the final showdown. Keating Hall had been built in the late 1800s and was constructed in a Renaissance style. It looked like a medieval castle, the clock tower rising over the roof like a keep rising over a castle’s battlements. He had written it into many a short story, the building’s very nature firing his imagination.

Now, fiction would become reality.

Sam was determined to write the ending his way.

Once out of the car, Katelynn and Sam huddled out of the rain on the steps in front of the entrance while Damon retrieved his rifle from the trunk. Damon knew the weapon wouldn’t stop the beast; the night they rescued Jake had proven that. It would slow it down, however, and that’s what the plan called for. Damon was to use the weapon to render the beast momentarily incapacitated, just long enough for Katelynn and Sam to do the rest.

It was a military axim that no plan survives contact with the enemy, and Damon prayed that just this once, that would prove false.

Damon unlocked Keating’s front door, and the others followed him inside. The three of them turned on the flashlights they’d brought with them and set off down the hall.

Katelynn’s vision had shown the Nightshade to be inside the clock tower that rose above the main building, so they quickly climbed to the top floor.

Damon held up his hand for quiet, and listened to any sound in the silence as the echoes of their footsteps in the empty building died away.

He heard nothing besides their own breathing.

The corridor stretched directly ahead of them. In order to gain entry to the tower, they had to traverse the corridor, exit through the door at the other end, climb the stairs just beyond, cross the roof to the tower itself, go through another door, and climb another set of steps to the chamber at the top. It was here that they expected to find the Nightshade.

They’d be exposed to attack from the front and behind the entire time.

Not a very comforting thought, Damon thought to himself.

A sudden crash of thunder from the storm outside was accompanied seconds later by a flash of lightning. For a moment the corridor before them was fully illuminated. Damon was relieved to see that it was empty.

"Looks okay," he said to the others. "Let’s go." He started down the hall.

About time, Sam thought as he set out after Damon, Katelynn between them. He knew Damon was correct in being cautious, but the rage he felt was growing. It was like a living thing inside him, and he fought to control it, for he knew that it could work against him, blinding his perceptions and clouding his judgment.

When they reached the other end of the hall, Damon slowly pushed open the door, looked around, and then signaled them forward. Passing through the doorway, they emerged onto the roof.

From where they stood, the tower was directly ahead of them, some fifty feet away. The roof between them was shrouded in darkness, but the tower itself was brilliantly lit by the large spotlights erected along the roof’s edge and shining on the face of the tower itself. The rain dashed down upon the trio and in just a few steps they were soaked right through to the skin.

Maybe she caught a flash of movement out of the corner of one eye, or heard the sudden sound of an extra set of footfalls striking the wet stone of the rooftop; Katelynn wasn’t ever certain what made her turn and glance back the way they had come. Whatever the reason, she was in time to discover that there was someone on the rooftop with them.

Whoever it was was running directly toward them.

Her mind registered all this in the space of a heartbeat.

She reacted without thought.

"Behind us!" she cried

The figure was almost upon them when Katelynn dove to her right.

She acted not a moment too soon. As she fell, she heard the whistle of something slice through the air less than an inch above her head and knew in that instant that she had come perilously close to dying.

The sound of metal striking metal reached her ears and Katelynn looked frantically toward the sound. Sam stood nearby, frozen in indecision.

Damon stood several feet away, facing them but backpedaling furiously as a figure in a hooded robe closed in on him. Damon’s hands were empty, the rifle he’d been holding only moments before now missing.

Katelynn rose to her feet and tried desperately to figure out what to do in order to help Damon.

It was obvious the man was playing with Damon. The newcomer was dressed in the tattered remnants of what once had been a rather luxurious robe, the front of which was now discolored with a dark stain. In the man’s hands was a bejeweled sword, something that would have looked more in place in the Smithsonian than on a rain-slick roof in the hands of a madman. The sword came closer with each slash and jab. The Sheriff frantically skipped backward, away from its razor sharp edge.

As the two maneuvered, Katelynn was able to get a good look at the man’s face. It was twisted into an expression of utter fury, his flesh so gaunt it appeared to have been stretched across the frame of his bones. Within this mask eyes gleamed with fanatical hatred.

Despite the man’s appearance, Katelynn had no trouble recognizing him.

Hudson Blake.

Katelynn watched as Blake swung his weapon and this time Damon proved to be too slow in getting out of the way. A cry of pain filled the air and blood flowed as the sword opened a long, shallow cut on Damon’s ribs as he leapt to the side in an effort to avoid the blow.

Damon’s frantic attempts to avoid the blade by twisting and turning away from it were preventing him from drawing his revolver, leaving him all but defenseless against the attack.

Katelynn knew she and Sam had to do something quickly to help.

She glanced around frantically, looking for a weapon, and spotted Damon’s rifle lying against the roof’s parapet.

She went after it, knowing she had only seconds before Blake tired of the game and skewered Damon.

Sam watched as Blake suddenly switched tactics and thrust his weapon point first at Damon. A cry of pain quickly followed and Sam watched in horror as Damon collapsed onto the rooftop.

The blade of Blake’s sword glistened.

Katelynn swung the rifle in Blake’s direction, her hands unfamiliar on the stock.

The old man was faster than either she or Sam could have ever expected.

He was there in front of her in what seemed like the blink of an eye, his own weapon swinging through the air and colliding with the barrel of the gun just as she got it pointed in his direction.

The force of the blow carried the rifle up and out of Katelynn’s hands. From several feet away Sam watched in dismay as the rifle went over her shoulder, disappearing into the darkness on the other side of the parapet, no doubt headed swiftly for the ground far below.

A wide smile crossed Blake’s face then and he raised his sword for another strike at Katelynn.

"No!" Sam screamed, suddenly entering the fray by hurling himself directly into Blake.

Sam struck Blake just below his upraised arms, knocking him off balance. Somewhere in the back of Sam’s mind he registered the clang as the madman’s sword struck the stone beneath their feet instead of Katelynn’s tender flesh.

With Blake locked in his embrace, Sam slammed bodily against the rooftop.

He landed badly, striking his head against the stone. Dazed, he could not summon the strength to prevent Blake from rolling them over, trapping Sam on the bottom.

Somehow Blake had retained his grip on his sword throughout the struggle and Sam looked up as Blake raised the weapon over his head, the pommel gripped securely in both of the old man’s hands, the sword ready for a sharp downward thrust to finish Sam off.

Oh, fuck, Sam thought, too tired and dazed to offer any resistance.

Two shots rang out and something hot and sticky splashed across Sam’s face, blinding him momentarily.

Seconds later Blake collapsed onto Sam, the sword falling from his grasp to clatter on the stone beside him.

Katelynn was suddenly at Sam’s side, wiping the blood out of his eyes so that he could see. He turned his head and saw Damon crouched a few yards away, one hand holding tight to the bleeding wound Blake’s sword had caused in his side, the other still holding the pistol with which he had just shot Blake. The pistol’s muzzle was held rock steady, not wavering from the old man’s body as Damon waited a moment to be certain he was out of the fight.

When it looked like Blake was not going to get up again, Damon rose from his crouch and walked over to them.

Katelynn helped Sam get out from under the body, glad the man’s head was partially hidden by his arms so that she wouldn’t have to look at what must be a gaping wound in the middle of his face where Damon had shot him. They stood up just as Damon reached them.

"You two okay?" the Sheriff asked.

Katelynn nodded, as did Sam. He was still a bit surprised to find himself alive and didn’t trust himself to speak.

"How badly are you hurt?" Katelynn asked Damon.

He grimaced with pain as he moved, but said simply, "I’ll make it," and changed the subject. "We’d better check on the status of our weapons."

Katelynn’s warning had allowed Damon an extra second to set his knapsack down on the rooftop before Blake’s charge had reached them, so the bottles of homemade napalm inside were still secure. Those inside Sam’s pack had been less fortunate; he’d been wearing the pack strapped across his back when he crashed into Blake and the resulting fall had broken them all.

"Why don’t you take this, Sam?" Damon said, holding out the pack to him. "That way my hands will be free."

Realizing Damon’s pistol was their only means of defense now that the rifle was gone, Sam didn’t disagree. He slung Damon’s pack loosely over one shoulder then they headed across the rooftop.

Damon moved slower than the others and was therefore a step or two behind them when they reached to door to the tower and stepped inside.

Damon called out to tell them to wait, but the heavy iron door suddenly swung shut in his face seemingly of its own accord, cutting him off from the others.

No sooner had it done so than a loud cry of surprise and fear reached his ears from the other side of the door.

The sound galvanized Damon.

He yanked open the door and moved quickly inside the room, his pistol held out before him and the pain in his side momentarily forgotten.

On the opposite side of the room the Nightshade stood waiting.