Jack strained against the invisible force that held him bondage, but he couldn’t move.
“Yeah, that’s what it feels like. You will yourself to move but nothing happens. Frustrating isn’t it?”
Huckley spat into Jack’s face. The spittle was sparks that danced across his face like a Fourth of July sparkler. Huckley smiled, pleased with his new trick.
“See, I was a little upset at you at first. I mean, you almost killed me. I take that personally. Why couldn’t you have been a good boy and left well enough alone? I was leaving the rest area, wasn’t I? Sure, I would have gotten your little girl later, but I was leaving. But you had to be the hero, right, and come after me on the highway like a goddamn cowboy.”
“Jack, what’s wrong?” Lonetree shouted.
Huckley ignored him. “As you can imagine, it took me a while to figure out what was happening after I woke up in the hospital. I could feel my body, but I couldn’t make it work. I was trapped. It’s a horrible feeling. Horrible. Well, you know what I’m talking about, right?”
Huckley walked around behind Jack.
“But then I found I could leave my body behind and travel without it. It’s very liberating, actually. You wouldn’t believe the things that go on when people don’t think anyone else is there.”
Huckley spun around in front of Jack so that the two men’s faces were nearly touching.
“But, here’s the thing Jack. My time’s up. I gotta get back into my body so I can take care of a little unfinished business. Seems some things just require you to be there in the flesh and blood. And besides, while this whole out of body experience is fun and all…I WANT MY BODY BACK.”
The words came out as a roar and blew into Jack like a hurricane. The eyes on the face bulged out as if they would explode. Huckley’s body shone bright as if the light gauged his anger.
As fast as the fury appeared, Huckley’s maddeningly calm demeanor returned. “I’ll give it to you. You had me scared. I thought you put me in that coma for good. Thought they were gonna have to rewrite the medical books. I would have been a medical miracle. I can see it now, ‘Man lives two hundred years in a coma.’ Of course, that never would have happened. The Boss would have taken care of me before that. Finished the job off, so to speak.”
“Jack, what the hell is going on?” Lonetree shouted, keeping his distance.
Huckley moved around behind Jack and leaned into his ear. “That would have been a shame. I would have missed out on all the fun we’re going have with your little girl. There’s something very, very special about her. The Source has promised me things, wonderful things, if I bring her to him. Powers beyond my imagination, he says. What do you think makes her so special?”
Huckley paused as if waiting for an answer.
“Oh right, you can’t talk. Shame. There is something about your little girl, though. I thought my brain had ripped in two when I sensed her in that rest area. It was intense. Lucky for me, I’ve figured out how to get back into my body. Just in the nick of time, as it turns out.” His lips curled back in a half smile, half sneer. “Because we already have your little girl.”
Jack struggled against the weight pressing in all around him. No matter how much force he exerted he couldn’t move. Jack couldn’t help but flash an image of Sarah in his mind’s eye, a grisly scene of what the monster in front of him might do to her. Without meaning to, he pictured the car crash back in California, the little girl on the windshield, the blood pouring down the broken glass. But it wasn’t Melissa Gonzales this time, it was Sarah.
Jack was responsible. He was responsible for both of them.
Huckley moved around in front of him, his smile slanted like a drugged up carnival barker. “Yes, that’s right. You’re a killer too. Aren’t you? A kiddie killer just like me. That’s too good. Too good.” Huckley’s tongue lolled out of his mouth and circled his lips. “Well, I’d love to stay and talk shop, one killer to another, but it’s time I got back. And don’t worry about your little girl. We’re going to have to go really slow with her, make sure we don’t make any mistakes. It hurts more that way, but what can you do?”
I’ll kill you. You son-of-a-bitch. Touch her and I’ll kill you. Jack screamed in his mind. Panic seized him. An image of Sarah danced across his mind, sweet, beautiful, innocent.
Huckley laughed. “Not for long, Jack. She won’t look like that for long.” The apparition turned his back and walked away, leaving Jack’s line of sight open to Lonetree who still stood in front of him waiting for an explanation. “Now you’re going to do me favor. Lonetree here is a trouble-maker, just like the rest of his family. For some reason, I can’t touch him. Indian magic or some such bullshit. That’s where you come in. First him. Then yourself. Careful. Guns can be dangerous in the wrong hands.”
There was no warning. Jack felt no sensation of release before his body reacted.
He saw Lonetree’s expression turn from concern to shock. With his peripheral vision, Jack saw his own arm rise from his side and aim the gun Lonetree had given him. He pointed it at the big man’s chest and squeezed the trigger.
The discharge of the gun exploded in Jack’s ears but it had to compete with the screams coming out of his mouth. The horror of his actions didn’t stop his trigger finger from pulling again. And again. Aiming at the chest. Then the head. Back to the chest.
His finger pulled until the magazine clicked empty.
Control of his body returned.
Huckley was gone.
Jack dropped the gun and stared in disbelief at the damage he’d inflicted on Lonetree’s body.
FIFTY-EIGHT
The Boss let himself in through the old delivery doors in the southeast corner of the hospital. It was dark out and he was sure no one had seen him. He would have sensed it. Not that he pretended to have the abilities of Nate Huckley but he had acquired a higher sensitivity to things over the years. They had all experienced by-products from the ritual. While Huckley’s natural psychic abilities had been obviously augmented by his contact with the Source, the Boss’s new gift had been harder to notice.
At first he thought the changes in how his mind functioned were a result of his continued studies. He had always been blessed with a superior memory, but soon after the ritual sacrifices started he was able to commit whole passages of text to memory after only a few readings. Then after only one reading. Soon, in an advancement that left him unnerved, he started to perfectly retain information after only a quick visual scan of a page. And the recall was absolute. All he had to do was close his eyes and the words appeared. He consumed information like other men consumed air or food. Books, always more books. For years, nothing but cramming facts about a civilization into his head until he thought he might go mad from the knowledge.
But his excitement turned to frustration as the limitation of his new power became apparent — a limitation that stole away his dream of ultimate intelligence. In the end, his power amounted to little more than a parlor trick, of no more use than a good online encyclopedia. It wasn’t until the computer age that the Boss had the analogies he needed to explain his situation. Like a computer, he was able to store infinite information, but the limitation was the synthesis of information into ideas and conclusions. Information was power and he was able to make significant progress in any field he pushed himself to understand. But the true genius he craved was always just out of his reach.
He dared to believe the Tremont girl could change all that. The Source had promised to finally grant his wish if the girl was brought to him.
It was why he had come to see things for himself.