The Eye of Madness Read online

  Burt knew what Musial was implying.

  “We’re not Jewish!” he protested. “I was raised Methodist!”

  Musial shrugged. “Doesn’t matter to him, it’s all in the name.”

  “So you can take possession of someone and can … move around?” Cecil asked.

  “If only it were that easy,” Musial said. Then he sounded as if he were reading a grocery list. “First we have to be willing to leave the comfort of the dark, not many of us are. Then we have to find a host without inhibitions … in this case drunk. Last but not least, we have to get to them before the rest of the dark.”

  “So why did you take control over Andrews? Trying to kill all of us yourself and not share the fun with your buddies?” Burt snorted.

  “I assure you sir, if I wanted you dead, you would be. I would not have gone through the trouble of introducing myself.”

  “Then what do you want?” Cecil asked, his patience wearing thin.

  Musial turned regarded him with the most desperate and longing expression imaginable. In another time, place, or lifetime perhaps, Cecil might have felt sorry for him. “Salvation,” Musial pleaded. “I want salvation.”

  CHAPTER 12

  THE BRETHREN

  “For judgment will be without mercy to anyone who has shown no mercy, mercy triumphs over judgment.”

  ~The Holy Bible, King James Version, James 2:13

  Steffanie Garrison didn’t see her grandfather after they entered the White House. A pair of armed guards ushered her upstairs as General Garrison went to the Oval Office. She covered her eyes to shield them from the glare of the powerful supplemental lights.

  It reminded her of an image of Heaven she saw in a movie once. A large, bright, and airy room with the chorus of angels serenading new arrivals. The booming, authoritative voice of God speaking from somewhere out of sight. No, the inside of the White House wasn’t quite the same. The angelic chorus was the stomping and murmuring of soldiers. The voice of God was the loud voice of her grandfather barking commands. Steff, while maybe immature and naïve, was also intelligent. She was beginning to suspect these soldiers and her grandfather were as far away from angels and God as one could get. General Garrison thought his demonstration of immunity to the darkness would impress his granddaughter. Instead, it terrified her. She loved her grandfather and admired him. This internal conflict made her feel sick to her stomach. A lot of emotions swirled about inside.

  The soldiers escorted her down a hallway. About halfway, they stopped in front of a green door and ushered her inside. The small bedroom with white painted walls seemed the most well lit of all. The soldiers closed the door without a word and left her alone. Steff sat on the bed and stared at the bright wooden floor for a while before she started to cry. She missed her mother, she missed her sister and, in spite of her misplaced anger; she missed her father. She wanted to go home.

  General Garrison led a small group of advisors into the Oval Office, and asked them to sit. Once they settled on the sofa and chairs in front of the Resolute desk, he closed the door and reached for the light switch. To the men’s surprise and horror, he flicked the switch. The large Bow windows were still covered so the room fell into complete darkness. As if a radio were switched on, the insidious hissing and clicking returned, followed by several agonized screams. After a long two seconds, he flicked the switch back on, vanquishing the dark. The room was quiet except for the labored breathing of the advisors. They stared at him with bulging and horrified eyes.

  “What the hell are you doing?” one of them sputtered.

  “You can’t—,” another one began. He let out a tormented cry when General Garrison flicked the switch again.

  “Oh yes, I can,” Garrison thought. “I’ll show you how much I can.”

  This time, he paused a second longer before flicking the switch back on.

  The men stared at him with desperation, yet they remained defiant.

  “Screw you!” one chubby officer spat.

  General Garrison shook his head as his mouth creased into a wan smile. He started to speak, but thought better of it. Garrison flicked the switch again, yielding the same terrible result. This time, he held it for an additional two seconds.

  “How dare the punk use such profane language towards God’s chosen leader,” Garrison thought. “He may have to be taught a lesson.”

  Yes indeed. A lesson seemed in order for this fat and profane colonel, but not now. When he turned the light back on for the third and final time, he folded his arms and spoke as if he were addressing a room full of children.

  “Now that you see what the dark can do, know this. It has no effect on me. And why, do you ask?” Garrison said as he walked over and sat down behind the desk.

  They stared at him with horror. The resentment was still there, buried deep in each of them. They were all too afraid to show it. After a long dramatic pause, Garrison spoke again. “The reason is quite simple. God has chosen me to lead against these demonic Impals. Therefore, he has made a shield about me to protect me from their evil intentions. I, and I alone, must lead.”

  He closed his eyes and, without invitation to the others to join in, he began a loud prayer. By the time he finished, each of the men had chills running down their spines. It was arrogant, it was forceful, and the implications were horrifying. In short it made each of them question their own good judgment because it was also very persuasive. Perhaps he was right. The main points of his prayer seemed to fit the facts. He had demonstrated his immunity to the dark. The last thing any of them wanted was for the general to turn the lights off again.

  “What do we need to do, general?” the chubby colonel asked.

  “Stay in the light and follow my lead,” he said in a distant voice.

  The five men, a Marine colonel, Army general, Air Force general, and a Navy rear admiral had all served the two former presidents. However, they all reported to the president via General Garrison who was the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs. Now the president was gone from the chain of command, leaving only the general. All of them, without exception, questioned the constitutionality of what was happening. They all knew better than to voice their concerns. They all knew of the general’s track record for brutality. Being God’s chosen leader would not quell this propensity; if anything it would enhance it. They all gave a stiff nod of agreement.

  “I’m going to be making a radio address right before nightfall. I want all of you to be present with me when I do.”

  Again they all nodded.

  General Garrison stood up and checked his watch. “One hour gentlemen, meet me in the ready room in one hour.”

  He then got up and strode across the room to the door. As he opened it, he heard something behind him. It was very faint, but still audible in the silent still of the house.

  “He’s bat shit crazy!” one of the men hissed.

  “Where the hell did he get the authority?” another whispered.

  General Garrison shook his head with disappointment as he shut the door behind him. He might have to make a few small revisions for his radio announcement.

  Jack had been down to the nearby moor to dispose of the body, so he didn’t hear his phone ring. In fact, it rang several times in the past hour. His commanding officer, Colonel Fielder, started calling just before dark. His friend, Sean, tried to call as well. They continued at regular intervals. Jack walked back inside as his phone began to ring yet again. At first, it startled him, and then he experienced a moment of panic. He knew who was calling without listening to the messages. The question was—what the hell was he going to tell them?

  He frowned and placed his hands on his hips as he stared at the silhouette of the phone in the dark. The whispers of the dark were miles away from his attention. Maybe he would tell them he fell asleep and woke up after dark? No, that was stupid; nobody in his right mind would fall asleep in this situation. But, was Jack in his right mind? He believed he was. He couldn’t tell them he was immune to the dark. It would b
ring questions and scrutiny he did not want. He needed to make up an excuse and he must do it fast. He wasn’t sure if they could search for him in the dark, but he had to assume it was possible. He strode across the room and snatched up the receiver.

  “Hello?” he said.

  “Jesus … Jack!” rasped the familiar voice of his friend, Sean Poindexter. “Are you okay? We’ve been calling all night! What happened?”

  Jack touched the back of his head as he thought of an excuse. It dawned on him to tell the truth; at least some of it.

  “Oh, thank God I left the lights on!” he said breathlessly as he relished the dark room.

  “What happened?” Sean repeated.

  Jack took a deep breath and then exhaled, playing for dramatic effect.

  “I-I fell in my bedroom and hit my head. I was out cold.”

  “Do you need medical help?”

  “No … besides you couldn’t get to me anyway, could you?” he asked. He didn’t care other than to test the possibility of receiving an unwanted visit before he could cover his tracks.

  “No,” Sean admitted. “But … bloody hell, mate … are you going to make it okay tonight?”

  Again Jack took another dramatic deep breath. “Well … I’ve got lights. As long as the power holds out I think I will be fine.”

  There was a long silence on the other end of the line before Sean spoke in a quiet voice. “There is talk of cutting power to nonessential areas and reserving it for relocation bases,” he said.

  “Well am I in a nonessential area?” Jack asked, feigning worry.

  “They think everyone has evacuated from there, Jack. It’s going to shut off soon. I hope not until tomorrow.”

  “I guess,” Jack began. He was starting to enjoy the game he now played with his friend. Perhaps it wasn’t right to do that to a friend, but what Sean didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. “I guess I can light a bunch of candles and get a few flashlights. I can sleep in the bathroom. It’s small enough. They should provide enough light in case the power goes out.”

  “Yes, yes do that,” Sean agreed. “With the commander’s permission, I’ll be out first thing in the morning to get you.”

  “Thanks, buddy,” Jack said. “Thanks for watching out for me.”

  “You stay safe, mate,” Sean said. “Don’t do anything bloody stupid.”

  “Okay,” he said with thick apprehension. “I’ll be careful and will see you in the morning.” He didn’t think there was any danger of visitors tonight, but why break character? “And Sean …” he said.

  “Yes?”

  “Pray for me,” he said, and then hung up the phone. He smiled with satisfaction as he placed the receiver back on the cradle. He had plenty of time to scour his flat for traces of the old woman and to dismantle and store the cage in the attic. This was where he kept it for the brief period of time when he had a girlfriend, but it was several months since he last entertained visitors. He grew rather complacent and a little over confident leaving it assembled in his closet. This proved to be a good wake up call.

  Jack would not spend a night cowering in his bathroom; he would spend it in relative peace and harmony. After he performed his clean up duties, he would spend a restful night in his own bed. Of course, he was no fool; he would still leave a light on. He may be immune to the darkness, but things could change. As bizarre as it seemed to him, the whispering of the dark gave him comfort. There was not a living soul for miles, yet he did not feel alone. He may feel comforted by the dark, but he still wouldn’t turn his back on it.

  When satisfied that all evidence of Gwenda or any of his previous guests was wiped clean, he stored the cage in the attic. Jack walked outside and gazed up at the constellations in the moonless sky. He marveled at their majestic beauty, which he felt he was seeing for the first time in his life. The whispering and clicking of the dark came from everywhere, it even sounded as if it came from the stars. He smiled with satisfaction. The dark had terrified him when he saw it in the woods that morning, but now his fear was as far away as the stars above. Jack went back in the house and lay down on his bed. With little effort, he drifted into a deep and restful sleep.

  General Garrison sat in the bright situation room waiting for his associates to arrive. Night had fallen moments earlier and he sat ready to make the most important radio broadcast of his life. He would tell the nation and the world that he and he alone, was ready to lead.

  The door opened behind him and the Joint Chiefs entered the room. Each took a seat at the round wooden conference table where Garrison sat in front of a large microphone. They all gave a halfhearted, yet polite smile.

  Their demeanor and countenance was amiable, but their intentions were nothing of the sort. The men convened a private meeting a short time after their torturous incident in the Oval Office. They all felt a measured degree of loyalty to General Garrison, after all; he was their chairman. But after a short debate, they recognized their greatest loyalty was not to the general. They all swore to preserve, protect, and defend the United States and its Constitution. He was so far outside the boundaries of the Constitution, even a novice of the law could see. He had assumed control, blocking out the Speaker of the House. There was no way he would relinquish control without a direct order from God or a bullet to the head. The men decided the latter was their best and only option. Garrison must die.

  The Marine colonel was the only man who carried a sidearm when he wore his dress uniform. As a result, they nominated him as the assassin. He sat down to the left of Garrison and casually flicked open the holster flap. He was going to do it. The only thing he was uncertain of was when. Should he do it now, or should he wait and do it live on the air, or should he wait until after the broadcast? Perhaps doing it live would kill two birds with one stone. He could eliminate the threat and show the American public what a fraud the general is. Of course, there was always the chance it would make him a martyr. The chiefs did not discuss the timing of the act.

  After several long moments of silent pondering, he decided now was the time. The sooner the better. He slipped his hand towards the butt of his pistol. As his fingertips slid over the smooth wooden handle, he started with surprise as the door jerked opened. A stoic Secret Service Agent stuck his head inside.

  “One minute, sir,” he said and then closed the door behind him.

  “My God,” the colonel thought, “he’s already got the Secret Service treating him as the president.”

  The colonel’s pulse quickened as he glanced at his peers. They all sat still with placid and unreadable faces, waiting for what was to come. The colonel could see in the men’s eyes the confident urging for him to carry out the plan. He had their support. At least, he thought so. Maybe it was fear. God knows, it was eating him up inside. It was a difficult task to kill a man even if you happen to be a trained soldier. There was something different about the general, something special. The dark seemed to obey him. He tamped his fears down deep and tried to focus on the task at hand. The colonel had just slipped his hand back to the holster when the red light in front of the microphone came on. The general cleared his throat and then began to speak.

  CHAPTER 13

  TRUE NATURE

  “The true nature of evil is that it is so very casual.”

  ~James St. James

  The last rays of sunlight disappeared across the western valley. The dark engulfed the outside of the cabin and the horrific noise invaded the walls and windows. Cecil, Derek and Burt spent the past two hours refueling the generators and setting up as many lights as possible. They decided to abandon the upstairs, especially during the night. They stockpiled every sheet, pillow, lamp, and toiletries downstairs. They stacked sheets, blankets, and pillows in a pile in the middle of the room. No one would sleep in a bedroom, the living room area would suffice for tonight and as many nights as necessary. It was easier to light and to defend than any other area of the house. In truth, even though no one said it aloud, nobody wanted to be alone. They cleared th
e furniture back against the walls before dark, but no one moved to claim a spot on the floor. Even though they were all exhausted, sleep was the last thing on anyone’s mind.

  Sam Andrews, a.k.a. Musial, sat in silence for the last couple of hours, staring out the window. He gave everyone the creeps with the strange mixture of expectancy and fear on his face. It was as if he was hopeful for something a great distance away, but at the same time, the hope terrified him. He had not said a word since he announced he wanted salvation, even though Cecil and Burt questioned him for an hour about what he meant. He seemed frustrated and maybe a little aggravated with himself. Perhaps he tipped his hand and revealed his true motive too soon. Musial refused eye contact and continued to stare out the window and into the woods until they gave up. Burt considered shutting the curtains to change the unnerving countenance on his face. However, he thought better of it. They needed all the sunlight they could get. Closing the curtains on the large picture window would have created a dangerous dark spot in the room.

  Everyone sat around the living room with unease. They felt as if they were sitting in a small and untethered shark cage in the middle of the ocean; a school of enormous great white sharks circling just out of view in the murky waters. Derek brought the radio from the kitchen and set it up in the middle of the room. They hoped to get some news about what was going on in the world. It surprised them to hear a live broadcast from General Garrison.

  Cecil sat on the sofa caressing Barbara’s hand. His stomach twisted into knots when he heard his father’s voice. It had been just twenty-four hours since he last heard the arrogant tone of General Garrison as he used Steff to further his cause. He could feel the pitiable stares of everyone, but he focused his attention on Barbara as the general began to speak.

  “My fellow Americans and fellow citizens around the world. I bid you all a good evening, morning or day, wherever you may be in God’s beautiful world. Times are dark right now and I can assure you I mean no pun by my statement. This is not the time for jokes. I believe this to be mankind’s most serious hour since the great flood so many years ago. God chose Noah to lead his living creations onto the ark to escape the punishment for the world’s iniquities. Today is different because we do not have a flood of water, but instead a flood of darkness. It is a dark evil that will drown each and every one in its wake more ruthlessly than any flood ever could.” He took a deep breath and continued in an ‘I told you so’ voice. “I warned about these Impals for weeks on end, but there were many who refused to listen. I warned they were deceiving demons and now they are showing their true nature. I have prayed for God’s protection and guidance. He has seen fit to speak to me today.”