Rage, page 26
Gate swiped at the dust and grime-covered window. They could see Joey’s house in the distance, swarming with activity.
“This’ll be a perfect lookout point,” Gate said. He moved along the wall, checking shelves covered with rubber fan belts and engine parts. “There must be something we can use here,” he muttered. He waved a hand at her. “See what you can find.”
Blaize wasn’t convinced. Despite what Gate had said, she’d feel a whole lot safer with a real weapon. She searched anyway, moving between rows of big, bulky machinery. In a pinch, a wrench would be better than nothing. She made her way between rows of equipment, moving deeper into the dark, cavernous shed.
Suddenly someone leaped out of the darkness. Blaize jumped, but before she could scream, a hand covered her mouth and an arm snaked around her middle, holding her tight. Her heart leapt and she squirmed, trying to escape. She kicked out at one of the snowmobiles beside her, trying to get Gate’s attention.
Then a voice hissed in her ear. “Shhh…Blaize it’s me. Don’t scream.”
She recognized his voice before she saw his face. His hold loosened and she turned into Spyder’s arms, relief flooding her body. And warmth. Despite the danger they were in, she responded to his closeness.
“Oh Spyder, I was so worried about you.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him tight and covering his face with kisses.
A jumble of questions poured from her mouth. “Where have you been? I’ve been so worried. I tried calling. I didn’t know if you made it back from Pierce’s house. Are you all right?”
He kissed her, cutting off the stream of questions. “I’m fine. I’ll explain everything but right now I just need to hold you.”
And he did, clasping her tight against his body. She relaxed in his arms, feeling whole again. Her questions could wait. Being back in his arms was bliss. And suddenly the danger seemed less oppressive. Despite every warning to the contrary and everything they’d learned about the power of Pierce’s words, she trusted herself completely in Spyder’s hands.
Behind them Gate cleared his throat. “I hate to interrupt, but…”
Still holding her close in the circle of his left arm, Spyder held out his right hand. “Fence, right?”
“Gate.”
“Yeah, whatever.”
Gate ignored the offered hand. “And you must be The Strangler.”
Blaize could feel Spyder bristle beside her. The men glared at each other, animosity flowing between them. She could let them waste valuable time bickering, or she could shock them out of their showdown.
“You guys done?” she asked. “Or are you going to have a pissing contest next?”
She laughed at their identical stunned impressions, relief making her giddy.
“Nice mouth,” Gate quipped.
“Yeah,” she agreed. “Just because I don’t have a gun doesn’t mean I’m not armed.”
“Oh that’s a relief,” he said dryly. “When we’re being chased by nine zillion crazed religious zealots, you can turn around and sass them to death.”
Gate sized Spyder up with a slow, sweeping glance and a male cockfighting attitude. She almost expected them to start circling each other for a round of fisticuffs.
Then Gate frowned and narrowed his eyes. “What happened to your hand?” he asked.
Hand? Blaize looked at Spyder’s hand. She didn’t see anything unusual about it. Then she stepped away from the arm encircling her waist and blinked in shock. His leather jacket ended at the cuff. There was no hand there. No…oh God!
She looked into his eyes.
He shrugged. “An accident.” Then he tipped her face up with his right hand. “Look at me. It can’t hurt you. I can’t hurt you. You’re safe.”
“An accident,” she repeated, shaking her head. Slowly, with stunned disbelief, the truth sank in. “No, it wasn’t an accident. You did this. You did this to save me.” And she knew when, too. She remembered the moment she’d felt the hold on them slip and her conviction that Spyder had somehow shifted the tide of Pierce’s prophesy. But this! “Spyder—”
“Shhh,” he said, placing a finger over her lips.
She remembered Spyder saying at Pierce’s house that he’d cut off his own hand rather than hurt her. Who knew he’d meant it? She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. It was all too much to take in. So she resorted to what she knew best.
She arched an eyebrow at Spyder, forcing a lightness to her voice. “You’re right handed, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Well, if you really loved me…”
He stared at her, a short bark of laughter erupting from his lips. “Oh God, you’re a wicked, wicked woman.”
Gate tried unsuccessfully to hide a smile. “Tell me about it. I’ve been stuck with her for days.” He made a hand-wiping gesture and grinned. “Now she’s your problem.”
That was all they’d say about it for now. There’d be time, she thought. If they got out of here alive, she’d have plenty of opportunities to show him just how much his act of sacrifice meant to her. She’d have a lifetime to show him that same love and devotion. But if they failed here, nothing else mattered and a hand would be the least of their losses.
“Listen,” Gate said. “I have an idea for that diversion we discussed.”
Blaize was relieved to change the subject. Apparently the men were willing to put their hostility aside for now and work together. She looked from one man to the other. Each of them held a special place in her heart. Maybe before Algernon Pierce had sent her life in his own bizarre direction, she would have met and fallen in love with Gate. He was safe, responsible and everything she thought she’d always wanted in a man.
But that was before Spyder. Spyder who was dark and moody, with that hint of danger dancing behind his eyes. Spyder who swore he’d cut off his hand rather than hurt her and actually meant it. Whether it was Pierce’s doing or not, she could never go back now. Spyder was the man she loved.
“A diversion?” Spyder asked.
“Yeah.” Gate replied. “We figure if we cause a diversion we can find Pierce’s room and destroy the manuscript.”
“And save Joey,” Blaize added. “I’m not leaving here without him.”
“I know where they are,” Spyder said.
Blaize and Gate both looked at him in surprise.
“Joey’s in Pierce’s room,” he continued. “Top floor, first door on your left. I saw them there this morning. Then someone recognized me.” He turned to Blaize, apology in his eyes. “I think it was your missing friend.”
Blaize nodded. Joyce. Yes. She knew how fiercely loyal Joyce was. If Joyce was protecting Joey, she’d protect him with her life.
“That Pierce guy has gone completely over the edge,” Spyder continued. “He’s reading to the boy, wearing bloody robes.”
“White robes?” Blaize asked.
Spyder nodded.
“His sister’s robes. He’s wearing the robes she died in as some form of atonement.” She explained what they’d seen and discovered to Spyder, condensing the last few days quickly. Then she told him the theory that Oswald Gaderian had confirmed.
Spyder didn’t seem surprised or shocked by anything she said. When he told Blaize about his encounter with Joey, she understood why. It was unbelievable. But everything that had happened since Richard’s death was unbelievable.
Richard. It all seemed so long ago. She wasn’t the same person now that she was then. She was stronger, she realized. In her quest to regain control of her own life, she’d become the kind of person who would never allow anyone to control her again.
Spyder interrupted her thoughts. “You were right,” he said. “About the song. The words should have been ‘burn the page’. Pierce was burning every page as he read it. He’s already destroyed the manuscript.”
Before she even had a chance to feel relieved, Gate spoke up.
“What about the disk?” he asked.
Spyder gave him a blank look. “Disk?”
“He may have destroyed the hard copy,” Gate explained. “But we’re pretty sure he still has the manuscript on a computer disk somewhere. He can still send that to the publisher.” Gate paced, running his hands through his hair. “And don’t forget those subliminal tapes his sister used to control him. We have to destroy those too or Pierce will simply be compelled to write the book all over again. We’re not out of the woods yet—”
Blaize interrupted, “Spyder knows which room is theirs. He can lead us to Pierce.”
Gate pointed toward the window. “Half the commune is gathered outside their house guarding him. There’s no way we’re getting through.”
“He’s right,” Spyder said, then aimed his next question at Gate. “So, what’s this about a diversion?”
Gate gestured to the shelves. “Gasoline.”
Spyder nodded, understanding on his face. “We set a fire…”
“…and everyone goes running to put it out, leaving only a few people guarding Joey and Pierce,” Gate said, finishing the thought with a nod. “It’ll even the odds a little.”
“Where do we start?” Spyder asked.
“We don’t start anywhere,” Gate replied. “No offense, but lighting matches is a two-handed job.”
Before they could start butting heads again, Blaize interrupted. “Don’t burn Joey’s house. I don’t want him in any danger.”
“No,” Gate said. “I won’t touch any of the living quarters. This is a diversion, not mass murder I’m talking about. I was thinking of circling around and starting at the chapel. If I’m not discovered I can set fire to any empty buildings along the way. Just enough to get people moving away from Joey’s house so you two can rush in and get the boy away and find the disk. With any luck I’ll have time to meet you back there. If not, get him away and don’t worry about me. Just get the hell out of here.”
Blaize took a step toward him, a sudden shiver of premonition sending a chill down her spine. “We’re not leaving without you,” she insisted.
But Spyder laid his hand on her arm, stopping her. He nodded to Gate and something passed between them. “We’ll do whatever we have to,” he said. “You create the diversion we need and I’ll see to the rest.”
The men were in agreement and it didn’t seem to matter what Blaize thought. “We’ll see,” she said, and left it at that.
Gate went searching for supplies. He gathered up some half-empty gas cans and combined the fuel in them until he had two full cans. “This should be enough for a decent diversion,” he said.
Spyder reached in his pocket and tossed Gate a lighter. “Just in case you run out of those two-handed matches,” he said.
Gate shoved the lighter in his pocket without a word, then hefted the filled gasoline cans. “I’m going to backtrack and circle through the woods. It might take some time until the coast is clear enough for me to get to the chapel. An hour. Maybe more.” He reached the door, then turned and called over his shoulder. “I’m sure you two can find something to do to fill the time.”
With that parting shot and a conspiratorial wink, he was gone.
Blaize and Spyder were left alone in the dim snowmobile shed with nothing to do but wait. They sat on the cold dirt floor, huddled behind a yellow Ski-Doo.
Spyder recounted his night in Joey’s room. When he told Blaize about the healing, he only hinted at the pain he’d been in, but it broke her heart to realize just how much he’d endured. She couldn’t believe how he’d suffered for her, but knew he wouldn’t want her sympathy. It would only embarrass him.
She thought of those hands she loved, how they’d moved along her body with expert skill, bringing her to incredible heights. And his music. A musician’s hands were his instruments. Spyder had given up more than just a hand. He’d given up his love, his art, his livelihood.
She curled into the warmth of his embrace, her head resting on his shoulder. She loved him. She’d loved him even before he’d sacrificed so much for her. She felt as if she’d been searching her whole life for him and knew they’d have found each other somehow, even if they hadn’t been thrown together by Algernon Pierce’s script.
“Joey is special,” Spyder said, finishing his story.
“Yes, he’s special. But he’s not the Messiah. And what Pierce and his sister have planned for him is a reign of terror, not salvation. It would be the end of the world as we know it.”
Spyder agreed. “Is it too late for him, do you think? I mean, even if we manage to get him away from here, what kind of damage has been done to him in the name of salvation?”
“I don’t know,” Blaize replied. “He’s smart. He can be deprogrammed, right? With enough time maybe he’ll be able to put all this behind him and forget.”
But even as she said it, she had doubts. His whole life had led him along one path and one path only. This was the only family he knew, the only life he’d ever experienced. But she had to believe that freeing him was the right course. They couldn’t leave him here.
Spyder got up to check the window. She missed his arms around her, missed his warmth. He paced, as if trying to walk off his frustration and clear his head.
He turned to Blaize. “Then what? What happens once we get him out of here? He’s lost his entire family, his whole purpose in life. What can we give him in return?”
“Love,” Blaize said. “A new family. A normal life.”
She stood and walked into his arms. “We can give him those things. You and I.”
She felt his assent before she heard the words. “Yes,” he said. “We can.”
This felt right, she realized. Right in a way she hadn’t felt in a long, long time. Pierce hadn’t anticipated or engineered this turn of events. She had. And Spyder.
For the first time in months she felt as if she was the only one in charge of her own destiny.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Gate could have made it to the chapel in half the time if he’d taken the direct path through the compound instead of winding his way along the perimeter. His progress was hampered by the dense forest that surrounded the commune. It was just as well. He never wanted to see that grim statue rising from the courtyard fountain again, especially after what had happened there last night.
Finding his way through the woods was no problem. He’d always been a country boy. He loved hiking and camping, and there was no more beautiful spot on earth than the Adirondack Mountains. If I get out of here alive, he thought, I might just write an article about the beauty of this region. Each season boasted its own unique charm. In the summer the woods were layered with color, from red maple to blue spruce and every shade of green in between. In the fall they were a riotous, patchwork quilt of orange and gold and crimson. Overnight, the bare browns of fall were replaced by the crystal confection of winter, with creamy mounds of snowbanks and marzipan trees dusted with powdered sugar snow.
Today the woods were quiet. Perhaps too quiet. The rustling of his footsteps moving through a bed of pine needles was too loud in the stillness of the woods. He might as well blow a whistle to announce his passage.
But no one stopped him and soon he was within sight of the chapel. He put the gasoline cans down and stretched his arms, then hunkered down to watch for any signs of activity in the area. While he scouted the compound, he made a slight change of plans. He figured if he was going to create a diversion, he might as well make it a big one.
He recognized two buildings to the right of the chapel. One, he remembered from their tour, was a pottery shed and the other a glass-enclosed greenhouse that looked as if it would make a nice big boom when all that glass blew. He decided to take all three buildings out. If that didn’t bring the whole damn commune running, nothing would.
He started at the greenhouse first, soaking the long tables made of wooden planks until the fumes made his eyes water. He trailed gasoline from the greenhouse to the pottery shed, then splashed it along the walls and around the kilns. He emptied one can then went back for the other, intending to use the entire second can of gasoline on the chapel.
But when he turned back toward the chapel, he saw a flash of movement inside. The flutter of robes, a dark silhouette moving among even darker shadows. Or was it only his imagination? He couldn’t take a chance on burning the building if there was someone inside. But he couldn’t stop now. Blaize and her arachnid friend were counting on him. He’d have to go inside and make sure the chapel was empty.
He circled the building with the second gasoline can, the cold liquid gurgling from the spout as he poured the remaining gasoline onto the grass and the outer walls of the building. Now all it would take is the flick of a match to set all three buildings burning and his diversion would go off.
But first he had to check inside the chapel.
Spyder felt the explosion before he heard it. He didn’t move, and for a few minutes neither did anyone else. Then the area around Joey’s house became a flurry of activity as people spun in every direction and robed figures rushed from the front door. At first no one seemed to know what to do or where to go. Then another explosion went off, followed by a billowing plume of smoke. The Klaxon call of alarms finally set them in motion. They set off, moving purposely in the direction of Gate’s diversion.
Then something happened they hadn’t counted on. Joey came outside. But he wasn’t alone. Joyce hovered over him like a mother hen, never leaving his side. The two of them stood alone for a moment, then started moving in the same direction the rest had. Soon Joey would be lost in the crowd of bodies moving toward the fire.
Blaize grabbed Spyder’s hand and pulled him out of the shed. She was shouting something, but he couldn’t be sure he heard her right. His ears were still ringing from the explosion.
“What?”
“Your song,” she shouted. “Sing it.”
“I don’t—”
Her voice ringing with conviction, she screamed at him. “Just sing it NOW!”
And he did, feeling uncomfortable at first, then more secure in the knowledge that her instincts were right.
