Blood of Cain

98

Lightning popped in the sky above the Blue Ridge Mountains, each burst of light giving the mountains the look of dark purple dinosaurs slumbering since the ice ages. I used the light from the cracks of lightning to help me see through the woods, trying to stay off worn paths and heading in the direction of Dillon’s compound.

The rain began falling in large, heavy drops coming through the gaps in the tree limbs.

I plugged an earphone into my phone and said, “Dave, I’m close to the village. I can smell wood smoke. It’s raining. Can you hear me?”

“Barely. Sounds like you’re in a tunnel. I think you’re about a half mile from where Courtney’s signal is originating. Maybe it’s the interference from the rain, but her location signal is getting weaker. Head toward the two o’clock position. And hurry.”

I ran, branches and limbs slapping me in the face and across my chest, the rain pouring harder. Within a minute I was entering the compound. I stayed on the fringe, working forward but staying in the perimeter near the woods. I could see light in the windows of the cabins, the light flickering like it was coming from kerosene lanterns. I heard the braying of a donkey in the night, could see farm animals standing next to one another under the limbs of an oak tree in a small pasture bordered by a split-rail fence.

I heard the rush of water, a fast moving creek. Lightning cracked and I could see a lot of water pouring from the end of a wooden trough, gushing in a torrent onto the blades of a grist mill, the wheel spinning. I had to find Courtney, and I had to do it within minutes. My immediate regret was that I didn’t take Dillon out when I had the chance. I’d saved a man’s life, and now my niece was very close to losing hers. Come on big bother, step out of the shadows.

Dave said, “Sean, you’re less than five hundred yards. Head toward the noon position. Go straight. Can you—”

“Dave! Can you hear me?”

Nothing. Only white noise in my earpiece. I’d lost him.

I ran, gripping my rifle. Not willing to use my flashlight yet. A hard rain fell, the drops stinging my face as I ran. Hold on Courtney. Just hold on.

Rain dripped inside the pipe and fell onto the center of Courtney’s forehead. Drip … drip … drip. After a few minutes, the drops felt like rocks hitting her between the eyes. She could hear water rushing outside. “Oh God,” she whispered. “I don’t want to drown … please … help …”

Water began seeping in the casket through the joints, a slight trickle, enough to wet the back of her hair. She felt the air go out of the coffin, pushed her mouth closer to the pipe and breathed. Rain hit her in the back of the throat. She could hear Dillon’s mocking voice:

‘Drowning is a bad way to go ‘cause it takes so long to die. Lungs burn, you cough, spit up water, trying so hard to catch a breath of sweet air. Then you’ll have nothing but water to breathe, and you’ll finally begin to surrender … sort of dreamlike because in the casket you’ll plainly hear your own heart beat its last thump-thump.’

I tried to run in the direction that Dave had last given me. I heard static in one ear, the waterfall of a pounding rain in the other ear. I pushed farther, knowing that the rain would smother the noise of my approach. Unless Dillon and his men could see me in one of the flashes of lightning, I didn’t think I’d be ambushed. I knew I couldn’t see them any better than they could see me. But they knew the land, and if Dillon had set a trap, I might trip over a wire that would detonate a shotgun blast to my chest.

As I ran, I tried to get a feel for the terrain, to see where the elevation began to fall — to find a chasm that might be a deluge of water in a hard rain. I jogged downhill, almost stumbling into what appeared to be gorge between two mountains. It was very muddy. The ravine apparently carved from rain and storms through centuries. Water was covering my shoes. Moving faster.

“Sean, can you hear me?”

Dave was back. His voice scratchy, like it was coming over poorly insulated copper telephone wires. “Yes, I hear you.”

“You’re less than one hundred feet from Courtney.”

“I’m in a ravine. It’s filling with water. If it’s been raining hard back wherever the canyon begins, there might be a flashflood any minute.”

“Keep going in the three o’clock position.”

“Okay.” I trudged through the rising creek. Lightning flashed and I saw something odd entrenched in the side of a large oak tree adjacent to the ravine. I switched on my flashlight, panning the rushing water, looking for any sign of Courtney. I panned over to the giant tree and saw an old logger’s double-blade ax embedded in the tree. It was as if someone had started to chop the tree down years ago, but walked off and forgot about the ax.

The rain pelted the surface of the rushing water with the intensity of millions of drumsticks splashing in water. I slogged through the water, shining the flashlight beam across the surface.

There it was.

The end of the pipe was less than two inches above the surface of the rising water.