Days' End (20 page)

He tried to lose himself in the details of his dad’s life as one after another of Carl’s friends and flock made their way up to the podium. Alastair was touched at how many people attended. It was comforting to see the vast number of lives Carl had impacted. He recognized some of them from his youth but most were strangers to him. It was finally Alastair’s turn to speak. He stood and walked slowly up the stairs, taking the notes he’d written the night before out of his pocket and placing them on the stand. He stood silently for a few moments, trying to collect himself before beginning.

“Good morning, everyone. Thank you all for being here today. I’m Alastair, Carl’s son, for those of you I haven’t met. First, I’d like to thank everyone else who spoke. It was comforting to hear what you had to say, to know he isn’t forgotten, and to get a better understanding of my father. I’d also like to thank the rest of you for just being here to acknowledge the loss of a great man. I want to share a couple of my memories with the rest of you. My father and I didn’t always see eye to eye on how I should lead my life.” A small chuckle emanated from the crowd. “I guess that’s not too different from everyone else. What was great about my father though was, despite my mistakes, he forgave me. Now, I know all of you are thinking ‘Of course, you’re his son.’ While that’s true, I was more difficult than most. You see, I’m an alcoholic. I’m sober now, but during the time I was drinking I said and did some terrible things—things I’m still trying to forgive myself for. But my father didn’t just talk the talk, as they say. He walked the walk. He truly lived what he preached, and I don’t know if I ever properly thanked him for that. His love and support helped me through a lot of hard times. And now, in the hardest time of all, he’s gone. That’s what some of you may think anyway. I believe he’s still alive. I can’t hold a conversation with him, but he lives on in my heart, in your hearts. When I need him I know he’s still watching over me and will help me through. I need that right now.” Alastair looked upward. “I need your help through this. I miss you dad. I love you. We’ll meet again on the other side.” He picked up his notes and stepped down from the podium, fighting the tears back, trying to retain his composure as he returned to his seat for the remainder of the ceremony.

After the services, Alastair rose and eventually made his way outside to where a town car was waiting for him. He was stopped by almost every person in the church who told him what a great man his father had been and what a loss everyone had suffered upon his death. One person told Alastair that even those who didn’t know Carl, and who had been denied the opportunity of meeting him, had unknowingly suffered a loss as well. Alastair could barely speak in an effort to keep his emotions in check. He merely thanked them, nodded, and moved on.

The drive to the cemetery was short. The preacher spoke once again and as Alastair sat in his chair after the burial ceremony, additional members of the congregation filed by expressing their sympathies. Alastair acknowledged and thanked them but was lost in memories of his father. He remembered his dad teaching him to throw and catch a football, the little tips on how to be a gentleman, learning to drive, and a thousand others.

As the last of the mourners disbursed, Alastair sat looking at his father’s casket and saying goodbye. A gentle breeze blew white flower petals from one of the arrangements down onto his father’s coffin. His gaze wandered over the moist dirt sitting atop the neatly trimmed and lush green lawn. He walked over to the pile and grabbed two handfuls. Alastair stood watching as the coffin was slowly lowered into the hole.

When the crew had detached their equipment and moved off to continue whatever else they had to do, Alastair made his way to the edge of the grave and dropped the dirt onto the lid of the casket. The hollow thump on the coffin echoed in his aching chest. He couldn’t believe his father was gone. There had been so much he had still wanted to say to him, so many things he had wanted his dad to see, to share in. While he did believe the words he’d said at the services, he still felt gypped. He wanted his father back, in person.

Lost deep in these thoughts, Alastair surveyed the grounds. It was only then that he noticed a well-dressed man watching him, leaning against the trunk of an oak tree not too far off. Alastair realized that the man had been standing there through the entire ceremony, but he had, only now, truly noticed him. Alastair tried to ignore the man standing there staring at him but finally, after everyone else had left, he brushed the remaining dirt off his hands and walked over to the stranger.

“Good afternoon,” said Alastair as he walked up next to the man.

“Good afternoon,” the stranger replied, nodding in Alastair’s direction.

“Did you know my father well?”

“No. No, I can’t say I knew him at all actually. Still, it’s a shame he had to die,” he stated and turned to look at Alastair. “Bad things happen to good people. I see it much too frequently. Seems to happen mostly when someone starts poking around where they’re not wanted,” he finished, staring coldly at Alastair.

Alastair’s breath caught in his chest for a moment at the realization of who he was speaking to. “Scario!” Alastair whispered.

“Don’t do anything you might regret, Alastair. Remember, Nysa is still working for me. It would be unfortunate if we were to have an accident at the facility that resulted in her death.”

It took all of Alastair’s willpower to not tear the man apart right there in the cemetery.

“I can see this is difficult, for you but maybe what I’m about to tell you will help keep you and Nysa alive. The project is almost over. In roughly a month, you and your precious Nysa will be reunited. Of course, that is assuming I don’t have any more interference from you.” Scario stepped toward Alastair, leaned in, and whispered, “Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

“Yes,” Alastair replied, barely able to control himself. His heart hammered in his chest, the noise echoing in his ears as he fought back the urge to rip the man’s throat out and dump him in his father’s grave. He knew that he couldn’t, that Nysa’s life would be in danger if he acted on his instincts. Instead he bit his lip—bit it until he could taste the warm coppery liquid oozing out of the groove where his teeth had just pushed through. The pain helped him to regain focus. “Perfectly.”

“Very good. Goodbye, Alastair.” Scario turned and walked away, leaving Alastair seething with hatred.

“I’ll see you again,” Alastair whispered to himself as he watched Scario stroll down the hill to the road. “I can promise you that.” There, at the bottom of the hill, waited another Rolls Royce like the one that had picked up Nysa for her trip to the airport, except this one was black. Scario turned and looked at him one last time as he climbed into the back seat. The driver shut the door, made his way around the car, climbed in, and drove slowly away.

November 16,

Outside Castle Rock, CO

Jacqueline was just about to hit the thirty-week mark, and she and Nysa were very excited when they left the obstetrician’s office. The baby was now approximately fourteen inches long and three pounds. According to the doctor the baby’s lungs were beginning to function, and he now had a very good chance of survival even if born prematurely. Despite this, the doctor now wanted to see Jacqueline in two weeks to monitor the baby’s progress.

What had thrilled them the most though was watching the ultrasound. This was the third time it had been done and they were still amazed to see the images of the baby in the womb. It had been difficult to tell, but it had looked like he had been sucking his thumbs. As they left the exam room, Nysa and Jacqueline were still chuckling about the baby not being content with just one thumb, greedily sucking away at both.

Nysa chortled. “You just better hope he doesn’t want both your nipples in his mouth at once.” Jacqueline burst into a fit of laughter.

“With these little things I don’t think that would even be possible,” replied Jacqueline as she pushed her breasts together. “He’d better be able to dislocate his jaw if he wants to get both of these in his mouth at the same time.”

November 20, Grapeland, TX

He was done grieving. Now was the time for retribution. Alastair wasn’t quite sure how powerful of a man Scario was, and he decided not to take any risks. He searched his father’s house for the gun he knew was there. Sure enough, in the back of the closet in the master bedroom, far back on the top shelf, there was a shoebox containing a revolver and box of ammunition. Alastair packed it with his belongings and got in the car.

He had decided to drive back to Castle Rock rather than fly. If Scario was on the lookout for him, Alastair figured that driving would be less conspicuous and harder to track. If Alastair could get flight information, he was certain Scario could as well.

November 21, Castle Rock, CO

Alastair arrived back in Castle Rock the next morning. He quietly checked into a small motel on the edge of town and took his things inside. It had been arranged much like the room he’d shared with his dad, the most glaring difference being the presence of only one bed. The empty void in his chest began to slowly fill with grief. As he walked slowly around the room his eyes seemed to always drift back to the bed, lonely and solitary against the wall.

He wanted a drink now more than anytime he could ever remember. He pushed the thought away, shoved it away. He knew one drink would be too many and a hundred wouldn’t be enough. The last thing he could afford to do at this point was slip back into active alcoholism. It would not bring his father back, and it sure as hell wouldn’t save Nysa.

What he needed was sleep. It had been a very long trip and he was exhausted. He needed to rest before formulating a plan that had the remotest chance of success. He quickly undressed, climbed into bed, and immediately fell into a deep sleep, filled with violent and unmerciful dreams.

November 22, Castle Rock, CO

It seemed the week had taken more out of him than he had realized. He’d slept straight through until the next morning. When he woke, he was ravenous. Alastair went out and had a big breakfast at his new favorite diner, the B&B Café, then returned to his motel room to arrange his plan of attack. He couldn’t just let Scario do as he pleased, but he also couldn’t put Nysa’s life in danger. He had to find a way to first find Nysa, and then get to her before Scario could. That was one reason why Alastair couldn’t go to the police with Scario’s threats. If Scario felt the police breathing down his neck even more, Nysa might be the one to suffer the consequences.

One of the only links Alastair had to Scario was Stevens, and he was dead. But maybe there was something in the lawyer’s office that might tell him where Nysa went after she left the airport. The problem was getting in there. He was certain that the receptionist wouldn’t let him go rifling through Mr. Stevens’ office. Besides, the police had probably already taken anything they thought might be even remotely useful to the case.

His only chance was to find something a bit more obscure than what the police had been looking for, and that meant he would need time to search the office. He decided to break in over the weekend. That would give him the time he needed to search the place without having to worry about employees. He could do it during the daytime so he wouldn’t have to be concerned about someone catching a glimpse of a flashlight through a window and calling the police.

In the meantime, Alastair occupied his time by trying to hack into the computer system of the facility. He knew he’d be able to access it through the Internet, as one of the items that had been demanded at the time of purchase was the ability for someone outside the facility to access and control the system. It had seemed irresponsible at the time. Alastair had pointed out that it was an unnecessary risk and that it would make the system susceptible to attack from outside the compound. Why create that elaborate of a program and then not secure it from the outside world?

Now he knew. Scario’s arrogance demanded it. Not only did he want to be able to see what was going on inside the building, he also wanted to be able to control the system if need be. He’d probably never need to, quite honestly probably never should, but he wouldn’t give up the power to do so. This would now hopefully work in Alastair’s favor. Now that he knew what he was looking for, it was just a matter of filtering through all of the garbage on the Web to get to it. It would be a small miracle if he found it in time.

I know that it was reckless and that I shouldn’t have done it, but the look on his face when he figured it out was priceless. I could see the conflict in him as he tried to control the rage that must have been eating at his insides like acid. Even taunting him a bit had not been able to cause him to snap. Maybe he will heed my warning though and stay in Texas. As Thomas is no longer available to carry out my tasks, it would be a hassle to have him disposed of. On the subject of Thomas, it’s unfortunate that I lost him on this last little errand. With Mr. Stevens’ body found and the killing of the old man, it’s only a matter of time before they look to me for answers. They have nothing that could incriminate me at the moment, but I don’t need the headache of them lurking about. With the way they tend to drag their feet, the project should be finished before they actually get around to making a serious search for me. This is all assuming Alastair doesn’t give them a reason to come for me sooner. Maybe I should have just killed him in Texas. It would have been easy enough for me. Never mind. It will all be irrelevant soon enough. Alastair won’t put Nysa’s life in danger, the project will be completed as planned, and nothing else will matter after that. The problems at the facility have lessened to a normal level. It would appear that I will have no more interference.

November 24, Castle Rock, CO

Alastair came in through the front door. He hadn’t figured out how to break into the office without crashing through a window so he had stolen the receptionist’s keys. Yesterday he’d followed her to lunch and while she’d been eating, Alastair paused by her table and bent down as if to tie his shoe. The keys had been sitting right on top in her purse and he had grabbed them and continued on his way out of the restaurant. He felt bad that she would be inconvenienced by the fact that he also had her car and house keys, but he figured she might have objected if he’d asked her which one was for the office so that he could steal it.