“Or what?”
“It’ll all burn.”
Frank had watched Jack emerge from the house-the prearranged signal for the first explosions-and lit the fuse to the communication center so that the building exploded into a maelstrom of flame. He counted down thirty seconds as he raced for the dock, firing his gun at the deck of the first boat and igniting a firestorm that tore the two vessels into enormous balls of splinter and flame. The heat set the dock ablaze. The blast threw Frank to the ground. All around him, the fire sizzled and popped as the rain fell on it, sending plumes of gray and black smoke into the night sky.
He climbed to his feet and he ran back to his position under the trees near the main fuel tank, watching as four men came rushing out of the house. They stopped at Cristos’s side, looking at the nearby fires.
Suddenly, his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out, ready to hit ignore when he saw the number and answered.
“Frank,” Matt Daly said.
“Yeah,” Frank whispered.
“We got the body but…”
“But what?”
“It’s not Jack or Mia.”
Frank fell silent. “Then who is it?”
“No idea. He’s got dark close-cropped hair. Maybe Asian. Looks like he was shot in the stomach, and there is some kind of black ooze running through his veins and circling his heart.”
“How long has it been there?”
“Not long, less than twenty four hours.”
Mia and Jacob arrived at the western beach, finding the inflatable skiff pulled up on the sand tethered to a small claw anchor that was dug into the sand. Cristos had relented to Jack’s demands but under his terms. He had pulled Jacob aside, giving him explicit instructions before escorting Mia.
Jacob pulled out his cell phone.
“What are you doing?”
“Cristos has no intention of letting you leave this island.”
“What?”
“You’re going to tell him that you’re safely away.”
“Or what?”
“I’ll kill you right here.” Jacob held up his gun. “Then take the boat across the water, pull your kids out of bed, and let them beg for their father, let him hear them scream.”
CHAPTER 43
Jack and Cristos stood on the front steps of the house, the orange glow of flame dancing around them.
Cristos held his cell phone in his hand, awaiting the call.
The minutes dragged as Jack awaited word of Mia’s safety. And in his interminable wait, everything began to cascade through his head: waking up to the announcement of his death, the tattoo on his arm, the unraveling of the day’s mysteries, racing through the Tombs, his father, Jimmy Griffin, the stranger in the psych ward who told him to hold on to his mind. Jack realized that as the day had progressed, the mystery of finding Mia, of saving her, had only produced far greater mysteries.
Ryan’s diagnosis of madness echoed in Jack’s head.
He vividly remembered his dog being run over in the driveway. He remembered his sad, pleading eyes, uncomprehending his broken body. Jack remembered as his last breath escaped his body… yet he also remembered him in his kitchen that morning, playing with him, the smell of his breath, the sound of panting, his warm eyes.
Jack’s hand went to his chest, rubbing his wound. He realized that as the day went on, the pain was growing, the wound feeling new. Despite the nurse telling him she had redressed the bandages, Jack felt as if it was attacking him from the inside. He assumed it was somehow related to the tumor, to his enhanced senses.
And his senses… despite the darkness around him, the subtle glow of flame seemed to light the whole world for him. He could hear what seemed like every raindrop’s fall; he could hear Cristos’s breathing, the sound of distant thunder as it escaped out to sea.
He knew that his psyche was at the brink of failure, the tumor, the smallest of things, chipping away at his mind, the disease momentarily blessing him with a new view of the world while wiping away his sanity.
But it didn’t matter. Mia would soon be safe. She would grab their girls and whisk them into her arms, far away from Cristos and all this madness.
Frank watched from his position by the fallen tree, hidden in the shadows of the glowing fire, his gun trained on Cristos.
One of Cristos’s men had left with Mia, presumably escorting her to their boat, while the other three went back into the dark house. Frank had no idea of the possible significance of the body Daly had found, but that could be dealt with later.
There was still a nagging sensation running through him that he couldn’t put his finger on. He shook it off and trained his gun on Cristos. He knew hell was about to be unleashed.
With the rain falling around them, the distant mainland coming in and out of view, Mia sat on the edge of the inflatable skiff next to Jacob as he began dialing the phone.
She had no intention of letting him or anyone near her children.
With Jacob focused on his phone in the teeming rain, she grabbed the anchor rope and threw it over his head, pulling it tight with every bit of energy she had. Jacob’s hands went for the rope, dropping the phone and his gun. Mia held tight, leaning back, keeping up her leverage, keeping the rope taut around his neck.
But Jacob outweighed her by seventy pounds. He grabbed the rope, pulling it forward, gasping for air. And suddenly, he launched himself backward, throwing back his head, smashing it into Mia’s face, stunning her, knocking her back onto the sand.
Suddenly free, Jacob scrambled to his feet, searching for his gun, but as he turned, Mia spun around like an Olympic hammer thrower, holding tight to the small anchor, hitting him upside the head, knocking him into the skiff.
Mia took off running into the woods.
Jacob struggled to his feet. He found his gun, but before taking chase, he turned and shot out the inflatable skiff, plugging it with two bullets.
Mia raced through the forest, the clouds above parting; streams of moonlight poured down with the now sporadic rain. She felt a horrible sense of deja vu, but this time, she could see… but so could Jacob. She saw the semiclearing up ahead and pushed toward the old graveyard.
She cut through the potter’s field, staying low, watching her footing over the broken head-and footstones, leaping over fallen trees and bushes heading toward the center of the graveyard. She finally stopped, winded, catching her breath, when all of a sudden, Jacob was there, blood mixed with rain pouring down his face, his gun aimed at her heart. She looked around. There was nowhere to go; she was trapped. She thought of Jack and her children and how she had tumbled into this nightmare before throwing her hands up in surrender.
“Stupid bitch!” Jacob screamed as he ran toward her.
And he fell as the earth beneath his feet gave way, sucking him down into the crypt sinkhole that Mia had fallen into earlier.
Jacob’s hands clawed the muddy ground to no avail. He looked up at Mia, his rage-filled eyes turning to fear knowing that death would soon claim him.
Two gunshots shattered Jack’s hearing, despite the distance, the rain, and sounds of the night. Fire raced up his spine as he realized that Cristos was playing him and Mia. He had no intention of letting her leave the island.
