The Messiah choice by Jack L. Chalker

There was only one window of any size in the little church, a stained glass affair in a crescent shape just over the door. It suddenly shattered with a crash despite the muffled sounds.

“Red! Watch it! Move back towards the altar!” MacDonald cried, and the constable scrambled up and over the pews and out of the aisle, almost beating the young man to the pulpit.

They turned back to the gaping hole where the window had been and, in spite of the darkness, saw a shape come through. At first it reminded MacDonald of a snake, but then he realized that it was an arm—a massive arm that ended in a huge, clawed hand. It was almost too big for the opening, and wasn’t nearly long enough, but it did reach the back few rows and began groping, then ripping up pews and tossing them every which way like so many match sticks in the wind.

“Jesus Christ!” the old constable swore, hardly conscious of how it sounded from the altar of a church. “You sure can see that bastard now! What in the bloody hell is that thing?”

They ducked as a random pew flew and crashed into the rear wall just behind them.

“I don’t know, Red, but I’ll bet you one or more of those big dishes up on the hill are pointed right at us right now.”

“You mean the thing’s being broadcast here?”

“Nothing else makes sense,” he responded, when the crash and din allowed. “Somebody discovered one hell of a weapon up there and they’re using the computer to do their dirty work.”

“Then why in hell don’t he just zap you and be done with it? Them things got to be able to cover anyplace on the island!”

“Partly because he’s got a weird mind, and partly because, having finished off Sir Robert this way, he’s got to be consistent to keep everybody going crazy.”

The great arm withdrew, but the pounding did not resume. The respite allowed them a few moments to catch their breath, although they could hear the creature outside and knew that it was still there, trying in its apparently limited way to figure a different way in.

Greg looked around at the chapel, which was in shambles but still intact, and sighed. “They sure knew how to build ’em in the old days, Red. Thank God!”

The constable nodded. “You said, ‘he.’ You know who’s behind all this, then?”

“Yeah, I know, but I can’t prove a damned thing. That’s the hell of it.” He chuckled and hefted the briefcase, which he’d carried through all of the flight and the ordeal in the church as if it were attached to him. “I got it tonight, which is why they made for me. In one way it’s a good sign, since this is so stupid. He must know I can’t pin a thing on him, and he’s got all the cards up there. He panics too easily for his own good. If we’re lucky, that’ll be his undoing.”

“Who is it, lad?”

“Uh-uh. He probably doesn’t know you’re involved, Red, and if you get out of this you’ll be a witness to the monster. If you know, you’ll try something and get yourself splattered or worse.”

“I want t’know the name of the slimy bastard who’s doing this, boy! I don’t take kindly to it!”

“Relax. Let others take care of it. You got a family here, Red. They’re not gonna let you off the island, and there’s no way you could get away with your wife and youngest.”

The older man sighed, knowing it was true enough. “So how do you plan to get out of here? They got the damn computer, boy! Even if you get out, they can stick you on the most wanted list of fifty nations as the man who murdered the Queen and stole the Crown Jewels, and the stupid shits in every law enforcement body in the world will shoot first and ask questions later.”

He nodded. “I know. One step at a time, Red. John Tussey still have that little sailboat of his over at the fishing pier?”

“Yeah, but it’s beached and tied down ’cause of the surf.”

“I’ll get it in quick enough if I have to carry it out beyond the breakwater on my back. I have to get off, though, that’s for sure. Ross is one of those types who’d cheerfully obey a shoot-first order if he had written instructions in hand, particularly if it was me.”

“That’s right enough. But—say! Listen!”

The air was suddenly alive with sound. A stiff sea breeze blew through the broken window and cracked walls and loosened joints, whistling as it did so. The nearby surf crashed with regularity in the distance, and they didn’t have to shout any more. The awful sound-deadening effect was gone, and through the broken window they could see what might be the first light of dawn.

Red looked at MacDonald. “Gone? Or a trick?”

“I don’t know. Wait a couple of minutes, though, just to make sure. You might tell me why the night shuttle never came down and why you were riding up on horseback.”

“The first was the cause of the second, of course. I didn’t like it when Harry never showed, so I checked and found that none of the damned carts they left would start. Nothin’ to do but get one of the horses and go on up and find out. I was on my way when I ran into you.”

“Uh huh. Bet those carts work now. Hang on. I’m going forward. You keep a look at that window just in case.”

He approached slowly, tensely, stepping over debris and ready at any cause to dash back to the altar, but he finally reached the door. Gingerly, he pushed it open with a foot, half expecting something to grab it and pull him out to his death, but nothing happened. He cautiously peered out and saw, looking up the mountain, that all of the orange guide lights were illuminated.

Red was suddenly behind him, carryng a candlestick. Cautiously, they stepped out into the churchyard and beheld the flip side of their own ordeal. The exterior looked in bad shape, with parts of masonry fallen away and roofing tiles all over the place. The walk to the church was paved, and the area immediately around was cinder, so there weren’t any tracks as such to see, but almost none of the cinder remainded.

There was blood all over, and part of horse scattered this way and that, some in clumps that could not be recognized. The head, however, they spotted over in the cemetery.

“Stuck it right on Sir Robert’s grave, the bastard,” Red muttered. “Come on. Let’s get you away before they realize they failed and send down a few boys with guns.”

Although it was crudely chocked on the beach, the two men had no trouble getting the small sailboat into the water, although it took some effort and determination to get it far enough out to keep it from being immediately taken back in. Red was invaluable; MacDonald doubted that he could have managed it alone. Now, though, with it bobbing and under control, it was time for Red to leave. The sun was now up, and back in the village there could be seen lights in some of the windows and there could be heard the sounds of many people arising to the new day.

Red looked back uncertainly. “What’ll I tell ’em, Greg?”

“Just tell it exactly like it was. Don’t leave anything out. If anything, it’ll confirm what they think I know. Answer all their questions, submit to all their tests, even lie detector or drugs. And turn it over to them. Tell ’em it’s too big for you.”

“And where’ll you head?”

“I’m not going to say that, Red. I’m not out of the woods yet, either. I’m going to be hunted today, I think, and the odds are even they’ll find me. If I don’t—well, just hang loose. I’ll be back.”

“You’re crazy if you come, lad, just as I’m crazy to stay, but you’d better get goin’ before all bloody hell breaks loose.” He sat in the boat, soaked through, and stuck out his hand. “God protect you, Mac, as He did last night.”

“You too, Red,” he responded, taking the hand and clasping it warmly.

With that, Red went over the side and with little effort made it back to the beach. MacDonald hoisted sail and made for the open sea as fast as he could, praying for a stiff wind in the right direction and good weather. Because of the direction of the breeze, he went up along the sheer cliffs on the west side of the island.

He hadn’t expected to get this far, and hadn’t thought beyond it, but now he realized what a hue and cry there would be and just what a search would be on—and it was going to be a clear, sunny day. There were plenty of islands to hide out on for a few hours and catch some sleep while keeping the small boat under some cover, but he knew they’d think of that.

But he’d studied this island in minute detail when he’d challenged and beaten their old security system. Some things he hadn’t included in his reports or plans, and his mind raced now. There were a few jagged inlets on this side, with sheer walls and good cover from both landforms and brush. He picked the second one he came to, and managed to anchor the small boat and cover it with brush and bushes under a rocky outcrop. He settled down then, on board, using the seat for a pillow, and tried to relax.

Let them search all the nearby islands. He’d remain here, right under their noses, until dark. Then he’d make his run. When you’ve cheated a damned monster, Ross and his ilk didn’t seem nearly so threatening.

8

DESCENT INTO HELL

Angelique spent much of the night exploring. Not exploring her surroundings that much, although she located both the pump and the waterfall, but mostly exploring herself, her newfound control of her body which had been remotely built up and finely tuned by the nocturnal sojourns over the past weeks.

When the skies had begun to lighten, she had returned to the cabin and tried as much as possible to get a little of the outside air and light into the place. The bed was no more than a simple cot using a wafer-thin mattress on poorly supported springs and slats with a single sheet wrapped around it and an old feather pillow at its head. She lay down on it, and immediately began to feel a burning sensation on her skin. She jumped back up and stood there a moment, adjusting to the pain, and felt it slowly subside and disappear. She put a hand on the sheet and held it there, and it began to burn and she quickly withdrew it. It was certainly the sheet. She pulled it off and tossed it to one side and tried just the mattress. Before long, the sensation returned. She was not to be permitted even this comfort. She could see a little in the cabin now and spotted a straw mat, looking rather new. on the floor to the far side of the bed. It wasn’t comfortable, but it was better than the dirty floor.

She suddenly got an idea, and put the mat atop the mattress on the bed. The rough straw was irritating on its own, but she managed to get used to it, and this didn’t burn and did help.

She finally lay on her back for a while and with her hands explored her own body. It was a strange and wonderful sensation to caress her own nipples and find them stiffen and rise and produce a pleasurable tingling sensation much like a tickle yet oddly different, too, with results also causing changes elsewhere inside her. She had been barely pubescent when they had taken it all away from her, and she had not until now known the feelings of an adult woman’s body except through books and through her imagination.

She had been like a little child all night, running around the cabin, just reaching out and picking things up, tossing a few stones, using the pump just to see it gush—all these were wondrous, magical things to her.

The only damper had been when her body had told her that she now needed a toilet, and a toilet was one thing that hadn’t been provided here. Whatever they’d used in the past had either been demolished or buried when the other cabins had been torn down. She’d used the woods, but found one process as messy as the other, and nothing to be done about it. She would have to wash herself off every time, which was an unpleasant prospect.

Now, lying there, feeling herself, she began to think a little on her situation and her future. Even though they had been the cause of her severe handicap, the freedom from that handicap was heady wine indeed. Hanging over her always was the threat of the restoration of that condition, which, she knew, could be done almost with the wave of a hand.

Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51

Leave a Reply 0

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *