Chapter 8
Libyan Desert
"Pat," called Sean from above, "you 'bout done?"
"Aye... just a couple more placements," Murphy replied. "You can start getting
the rest of the stuff out of here... get it a long way away. We don't want to blow a hole
the size of Lough Neagh." The Irishman felt an excitement he hadn't felt in years. He
felt alive and felt joy in the imprisoned energy of the explosive charges he was setting.
The energy that he was about to set free seemed to throb around him. Sean felt as if
life was about to be reborn of heat and fire.
One last time he rechecked all of the charges. He wanted to crack open a small
portion of the granite slab the way a chef cracks the tip of an egg... nothing more... no
avalanche of falling rock tumbling into the cavern beneath. In his mind he ran through
his calculations. His charges should crack the granite clear through, then the secondary
charges should enlarge the crack ever so slightly. After that it would be pure muscle
work for the local heathens, breaking the stones and hauling them away. As he turned
to climb the rickety ladder the thought passed through his mind that it was such a
waste for these little beauties to blow in the midst of this sandy hell, when they really
belonged in central London at noon or under the royal box at Ascot on opening day.
"Fire in the hole!" he yelled as he ran. He heard it repeated in Arabic, Japanese,
and three other languages. "Fire in the hole!"
< < + > >
San Juan Bautista
At precisely the appointed time, noon, a Chevy pickup, pulled to the curb in
front of Aggie's cottage. Though battered and piebald, with gray primer overlaying its
original faded red, the old truck's engine hummed with perfection.
Aggie, who had known that Mr. Kelly would be punctual, as always, was
waiting in her front garden, clipping a few dead blossoms from her chrysanthemums.
She waved and walked around to the driver's side. Standing on tiptoes, her chin barely
above the top of the door, she said, "Hi, Sam. How's the new foal?" She had heard
that on the previous Wednesday the Kelly's prize mare had delivered a filly two
months premature.
"They're both doin' fine," he replied. "It was touch and go for a bit with the
youngster, but she's lively enough now. It's just too bad she'll officially be a yearling
on New Year's Day, when she'll really only be a month... oh, well, she'll make good
brood stock." After a pause, he asked, "You sure 'bout this, Sister?"
"Yes, Sam, I am," Aggie answered sincerely. "Dr. Rayne is for real... I've
known his sister for years. He's a good man, who knows what he's doing, and I truly
believe he can help Diana."
The rancher was silent.
Aggie continued, "Sam... why don't you go on and do your Saturday errands,
then come back... around four or five?"
He nodded, then turned to kiss his daughter. "I love you, honey. You do what
the sister and Dr. Rayne say... OK?"
Diana shook her head, reached over to hug her dad, then quickly opened the
truck's door and climbed out. "I'll be OK," she reassured him with a half-hearted
smile. Both the girl and the nun, watched as the truck rattled off down the street.
"Come on, honey," said Aggie, taking her hand. "They're already over at the
house."
* * *
As December's southern sun reflected against the mission's white facade on the
opposite side of the plaza, Kymberlee sat on the Zarzuela House's porch railing. There
was a chill to the shade... she rubbed her hands over her arms and wished she had
worn a jacket rather than her sweater. She had been watching her husband pace the
length of the veranda for the past half-hour. Boredom was setting in. Perhaps she
should walk back over to Aggie's to see what was happening. As she slid from her
perch, she saw Sister Mary-Agnes, short and round in her Loyola sweats, striding
across the lawn with the teenager in tow. "Derek,"said Kym.
At fifteen, Diana Kelly was a tall, thin girl with straight black hair, a vestige of
her Hispanic heritage. Dressed in jeans and cowboy boots, she shyly greeted the
Legacy people on the gravel path in front of her ancestors' home. "I'm sorry I smell
like horse," she apologized as she shook Kym's hand. "I overslept this morning and
was late with all my chores."
Derek noted her reluctance to approach the building. "Diana, could we sit here...
on the steps... for a while? I'd like to ask you some questions," he said as he gently
guided the child to the porch.
Kym saw him flash Johnny Boyle a look and give a tiny nod toward the front
door. Boyle touched her arm and opened the door for her. "But...," she started to say.
"He doesn't need a crowd... and neither does the girl," the former major
explained.
Kym, a little annoyed, smiled and stepped over to give her husband's shoulder
a squeeze and kiss the top of his dark head. "I'll be inside," she said.
In the parlor, she cracked open the french door to watch and listen. Her husband
was a natural with the child. A smile flickered across Kym's lips to be suddenly
doused by an uneasy feeling... of impending peril? She didn't know.
Once Kym and Johnny had gone, the nervous teen had immediately relaxed in
Derek's presence. After ten minutes of probing, he realized that Diana Kelly had no
memory of any of the incidents. She was more baffled than anyone about what had
been happening to her. All she knew was that she had lost time. On the first occasion,
half-past ten in the morning had suddenly become one in the afternoon. The next time,
noon became midnight. She recounted how she had been told that she would suddenly
go rigid, seem to lose all sense of those around her, begin to tremble, then sometimes
adopt an entirely different demeanor and voice. At the end of the incident, they had
said that the process seemed to reverse itself.
"Did you feel anything different just before, or just after each episode?" Derek
asked.
"No," Diana said quietly. "Nothing before, but I was dizzy for a minute or so
afterwards... and I was hungry. I felt stiff... like after a long car ride... and the next day
my muscles were sore."
"Diana, dear," said Aggie, who was seated on the opposite side, holding the
girl's hand. "What is it that disturbs you so?"
Diana laughed without humor. "It's a little obvious... but you mean about the
house, don't you?" she said. "I don't know why, but I've never liked this place. I
didn't want to have my party here."
Derek asked, "What don't you like about the house?" To avoid making her
nervous, the precept was careful to observe the teenager from the corner of his eye. "Is
it that it's old? Or smells funny? Do you find it scary?"
"I don't know," Diana persisted, then paused. "I've always felt claustrophobic
in there... like there's not enough air," she finally admitted.
"Diana," said Derek. "Has Sister Mary-Agnes told you about me?" For the first
time he looked directly at the girl.
"Yes," she answered in a small voice. She found the intensity that lay
suppressed behind his eyes a little disconcerting, but not frightening. "She said that
you're her best friend's younger brother, that she trusts you... and that you can 'see'
things no one else can."
"Sometimes." Derek smiled gently. "Sister believes that your problem began in
this house on your birthday. Can you be brave enough to walk through the house with
me? Let me try to 'see' what is happening to you. Aggie can stay with us, if you like."
Diana nodded and accepted Derek's hand when he offered to help her up. "It's
OK. Sister doesn't need to come... I trust you." She continued to grip his hand tightly
as he pulled open the squeaky screen door. This big man with the odd accent and
penetrating, hazel eyes made her feel safe. It was as though he radiated a circle of
security around him... Diana could feel when she stepped outside of that circle. She
was not going to let go of that hand until they again stood on the porch.
"Shall we begin upstairs?" the precept asked. He signaled to Major Boyle to
follow with his tape recorder and sensor. When Kym started to come, he gestured with
his free hand that she should remain downstairs. They didn't need a parade for what
he was going to try to do.
"Go on," he instructed, "browse through the rooms... as if you are wandering
through an antique shop or second hand store... pick up the things that attract your
interest." He squeezed her hand and turned her to face him. "Give your fear to me.
Open your mind," he said, looking directly into her blue eyes.
As during the previous afternoon, Derek saw and felt nothing of significance.
Johnny shook his head no, in reply to a glance and an unspoken question. Derek was
beginning to believe that Diana Kelly's problems had nothing to do with this house...
it was just old and empty. However, as they again reached the bottom of the stairs, he
sensed a change in her grip. It wasn't so much that he felt a variation in pressure or
tension, but that he seemed to detect an alteration in the texture of her skin. She froze
on the second to last step.
"Johnny," Derek whispered, "something's happening. Do your sensors show
anything?" He helped the girl down the last two steps and led her over to the tufted
Victorian love seat opposite the fireplace. She sat as he sat.
"Nada," Boyle replied.
Reluctant to pull away from Diana's grasp, Derek pushed the oval coffee table
away with his foot. "Kym, can you move that?" he asked. "If things get intense, we
don't want to end up paying medical bills or damages at museum rates."
Kym picked up the small table with its silver service and carried it off to one
side. When she turned back, she saw that her husband had entered the girl's world. He
clasped both of Diana's hands in his own. His back had stiffened and his eyes had
taken on a faraway gaze. Frustrated, Kym wanted to scream at him, "Dammit, Derek!
Can't you wait for two little minutes?"
"Diana," said Derek, his voice remote and even. "Can you hear me? Listen to
my voice," he commanded. As his physical senses faded away, the psychic could see
dim figures surrounding Diana and himself. Struggling for focus, he watched the
specters as they seemed to move in and out of the girl's body. It reminded him of
children playing musical chairs, only here there were far too few seats... one would
move out and three, pushing and shoving, would try to move in. He found that if he
could concentrate on one entity at a time, he could see more clearly... save for three
older figures, a man and two women, they were mostly girls of Diana's own age.
"Johnny," he whispered, as from a dream, "it's a multiple possession." Derek
could feel the girl begin to tremble as the entities jostled for space. "I've never seen
anything quite like this," he added.
Kym moved closer to her husband. "A multiple possession?"
"Yes," the major replied. "It means that there's more than one spirit or demon
present.... Remember?... In the Bible... when Christ cast out the demon, he asked its
name, and the demon answered, 'My name is Legion, for we are many.' But, here, I
think he means spirits... not demons."
"I hope so," said Kym, nervously licking her lips.
"Shhhh," Johnny cautioned. He knelt on the floor a couple of feet away from
Derek. "Derek," he said softly, "can you see anything else?"
"Mostly children... girls like her... so lost... so sad. They're trapped... they want
to go, but...."
"I can see them!" Kym cried suddenly, without the slightest twinge of fear. She
had been staring intently at her husband when a dozen or more figures popped into
existence around the love seat. Though indistinct, she sensed that they were all girls
in their mid-teens, not that much younger than she herself was... and not the least
intimidating. They were hovering closely about the Diana, but remaining a little more
distant from the Legacy precept. At her cry, several raised their heads to look at Kym.
"No!" Derek groaned, breaking Diana's hold. He struggled to rise, but, dizzy,
fell back. "Johnny... get her out!" he commanded, forcing himself up again. Bright
stars twirled as his vision dimmed, but he fought through the darkness to stumble
toward his wife. "Get out!" he said brutally as he pushed her toward the door.
"What? What's going on?" Kym asked in confusion. When Derek had broken
his link to Diana, the spectral figures Kym had seen blinked out as quickly as they had
appeared. "I can't see them any more... where'd they go?... Derek?" she said as he
shoved her away.
Johnny moved to catch Derek as he slumped to his knees. "Did they disappear
when Derek broke away from the girl?" he asked Kym.
"Yes. Johnny... what's wrong with him?" she asked, dropping to the floor beside
her husband. Never before had he spoken to her in such a tone or handled her so
roughly. Now, he had lost all color and seemed to reel, fighting for consciousness. She
reached out to steady Derek as the major helped him to lie down on the rag rug.
"I'm all right," he said, trying to reassure them. "Ohhhh!," he moaned as Boyle
lowered him the last bit to the floor. "I just broke the link too quickly."
Leaning over his precept to scan his eyes, Johnny asked with concern, "Derek...
are you OK?"
"Just dizzy," slowly came the reply. "Seeing stars and everything's a little
dark.... I'll be OK... in a minute," said Derek struggling for deep, ragged breaths.
"Kym... do you still see them?"
"No... no... honey. They're gone," she answered, frightened at her husband's
pallor and the worry in the Johnny's voice. The shock of Derek's harshness and his
sudden collapse left her flailing... it was totally unlike the kind, strong man she had
married. In fact, it seemed more like... Major Boyle. Kym took a deep breath. "Are you
sure you're all right?" she asked, controlling the tremor in her voice.
"I'll be fine," Derek replied as he again tried to sit up. He couldn't make it, but
rolled over onto his stomach and buried his head in his arms. "Head hurts," he
mumbled.
Kym reached out to stroke his hair. "Maybe you should rest a while."
"Liefje... just leave me alone for a minute... I need to stop swimming," Derek
pleaded.
"Kym... don't touch him," the soldier snapped. "Just stay quiet, Derek.... Let it
pass," he said softly.
Hurt and confused, Kym couldn't understand. Why was Derek shutting her out?
Why was Johnny helping him keep her at bay? What right did they have to discount,
to reject, a wife's concern for her husband?
"Is Diana OK?" asked Derek weakly.
Johnny glanced over at the girl, who still sat rigidly on the small couch. "She's
still out of it," he replied. "No change when you broke the link."
At last, Derek rolled over and managed to sit up. "Kym," he said, "you can't be
here. Go back to Aggie's."
"What? No! I'm not going to leave you like this," his wife protested.
"Kym," the precept said firmly. "Do as I say... I mean it... get out... now." Derek
pulled himself over to lean his back against the love seat. "Johnny... take her back to
Aggie's. Let me do what I have to do," he begged Kym.
Standing her ground, Kym said with equal firmness, "I'm not leaving. I can help
you."
"Not with this," he said. "Major Boyle... do as I say, and tell Aggie to keep her
there." Derek ran his hands through his hair, then rubbed the back of his neck.
"Johnny? Did you bring your medic kit?" he asked.
"Medical kit?" Kym questioned. She scooted herself across the carpet to again
kneel beside her husband. She studied his face as he answered.
"Yes... Johnny always has it with him," he explained. "Diana may need help
when this is over, and I, most certainly, am going to need some aspirin. Now... go to
Aggie's... don't come back here until we've finished." He saw Kym's hackles begin
to rise. "Liefje... I don't have the energy to explain.Get out now!" Derek commanded
in a tone that shook Kym to her core.
She pushed herself up and began to back away. Realizing how severe he had
been, Derek added, "Kym... I love you, but please go... I'm too tired to argue. Just go,
now... please."
Quietly, Kym turned and walked to the door. As she pulled it open, she turned
to her husband and his friend. "Just be careful," she said. Drawing the door closed
behind her, she was gone. They heard her footsteps cross the porch and the screen
door slam shut with a bounce.
"Was she in danger?" Boyle asked.
"Yes... while she could see them... yes. She doesn't know how to protect herself
yet," Derek sighed.
| CHAPTER 9 |
| E-mail: Dubricus | CONTENTS | E-mail: Selena |
