16 Souls

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Present Day — August 14^th, 9:05 pm

Summit of Long’s Peak

Trying to get comfortable enough to die was more of a challenge than he’d expected — dammit! Even the spot he’d used during the afternoon felt like precisely what it was: a bed of rocks!

He stood unsteadily, aware of being at least intoxicated, but wondering why the barbiturates he’d finally received from an offshore pharmacy two weeks ago hadn’t kicked in yet. The thought that they might not be as potent as they were supposed to be had crossed his mind, but hey, he had all night.

What had really propelled him to his feet was a growing anger that had harpooned his idea of a peaceful departure — a deep sleep to oblivion. He had been a good captain, dammit! But wasn’t he a freaking human being? Weren’t humans supposed to be imperfect? Yes, he misunderstood a radio call and failed to question his bumbling copilot, but it seemed it was just diabolical chance that put that Beech 1900 in front of them! Chance or a higher power that hated him.

“GODDAMMIT!” He screamed into the wind, the effort making him dizzy. He braced himself on the edge of a huge boulder that had been his companion for hours and stood and railed again. “FUCKING GODDAMMIT TO HELL! WHY? WHY ME? YOU HEAR ME? WHY? THERE ARE WORSE BASTARDS OUT THERE TO TORTURE!”

Maybe it was the lack of oxygen, but screaming felt better than lying on rocks and wondering when it was all going to be over. He let go of the boulder and took an unsteady step forward, shaking his fist at the now starry sky. “YOU BASTARDS SET ME UP! YOU’RE THE ONES WHO SHOULD BE ON TRAIL… TRIAL… WHATEVER. I WAS A GOOD MAN! I WASN’T TED FUCKING BUNDY OR CHARLES MANSON OR SOME SCUMBAG WIFE BEATER!”

Somewhere in the corner of his mind was the question of precisely who he was railing at. Who were the stated bastards? But there was a therapeutic impetus to the screaming, and it was like a huge boulder that had started rolling downhill with too much momentum to stop.

More yelling now, shaking both fists, and turning toward where Denver ought to be before realizing he was too dizzy to know which direction to look.

I’d better sit down, he decided, but another idea slowly crawled into his frontal cortex and he summoned the energy and the anger to stand once more, middle finger offered to the skies as he screamed: YOU… YOU COWARDLY MOTHERFUCKERS! I CHALLENGE YOU! YOU HEAR ME? SHOW YOURSELVES AND FIGHT ME! COME ON, BASTARDS! I KNOW YOU”RE UP THERE… OR OUT THERE SOMEWHERE! COME ON! I DARE YOU!”

A slightly familiar, rhythmic sound reached his fuzzed up hearing and he steadied himself and turned in that direction, watching something descending toward him as a blinding light hit him like a million suns. He covered his eyes and screamed ineffectually against the oncoming Valkyrie or angry devils or whatever it was that was accepting his challenge. He felt like a mouse flipping off an eagle a microsecond before the talons closed, but that tiny rebellion felt good!

“YEAH! THAT’S RIGHT! YEAH, BABY! BRING IT ON, YOU BASTARDS!”

The light was blinding, the sound apparently the beating of huge wings. What the hell had he summoned, a pterodactyl?

So this is what dying is like! he thought

The breeze had risen to a hurricane and the merciless blazing light was even brighter as he kept his left arm and hand above him, middle finger defiantly thrust toward the invited intruder. He unshielded his eyes and screamed one last heartfelt epithet at the top of his lungs: “FUCK… YOU!” as he slowly lost his tenuous hold on consciousness, his eyes rolling back in his head, the bulk of his body slowly oozing down among the boulders like an escaping octopus.