The Indwelling: The Beast Takes Possession (12 page)

“Was it?”

“It was, Cameron. It was. Fooling so many, including my own staff. Doctors, nurses, aides. Well, actually, I didn’t fool every aide. As Jacov and a young nurse’s aide were lifting me into the van after my last visit to the hospital, she stalled, locking my wheels and straightening my blanket while Jacov went to get behind the wheel. Just before she closed the door, she leaned close and whispered, ‘I don’t know who you are or what your game is, old man. But you might want to remember which side was affected when you came in here.’” Chaim chuckled, which Buck found astounding under the circumstances. “I just hope she was telling the truth, Cameron, that she didn’t know who I was. Celebrity is my curse, but some of the younger ones, they don’t pay so much attention. I looked desperately at her as she shut the door, hoping she would wonder if it were she who had forgotten. I stayed in character, but if my face flushed it was from embarrassment and not frustration over my lack of ability to speak or walk. She was right! I had stiffened my right arm and curled my right hand under! What an old fool!”

“You took the words right out of my mouth, Chaim. Get your blanket, and let’s find a cab.”

Without a word, Chaim switched on the flashlight, hurried to the tree, tossed the light back to Buck, and leaped, grabbing the low branch and pulling himself up far enough to grab the blanket. He wrapped it around his head and over his shoulder, then affected a limp and leaned on Buck, chuckling again.

Buck moved away from him. “Don’t start that until you need to,” Buck said.

Leah Rose awoke with a start and looked out the window. Cities were rarely illuminated in the night anymore, so she had no idea where she was. She tried looking at her watch, but couldn’t focus. Something had awakened her, and suddenly she heard it again. Her phone. Could it be?

The one lone flight attendant and the rest of the dozen or so passengers seemed asleep. Leah dug in her bag for the phone and pressed the caller ID button. She didn’t recognize the number, but her comrades had assured her the phone was secure. She would not jeopardize them if she answered, even if her number had fallen into the wrong hands.

Leah opened the phone and tucked her head behind the back of the seat in front of her. She spoke softly but directly. “This is Donna Clendenon.”

A brief silence alarmed her. She heard a male inhale.

“I’m sorry,” he began with a Greek accent. “I am calling on behalf of, ah, Mr.

Marvin Berry?”

“Yes! Is this Mr. Miklos?”

“Yes!”

“And are you calling from Greece?”

“I am. And Mr. Steele is here. And what is it that those filled with demons cannot say?”

Leah smiled in spite of herself. “Jesus is the Christ, the Messiah, and he will return in the flesh.”

“Amen! Rayford is sleeping but needs to know you are safe and how to find y—”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Miklos, but if the phones are working, I have an emergency call to make. Just tell Rayford that I am nearly home so not to worry about me, but that he needs to locate Buck.”

Tsion experimented with five-minute catnaps every few minutes, fearing he would otherwise sleep through the resurrection of the Antichrist. With Chloe and the baby asleep elsewhere in the safe house, the experiment was not working well. He found himself popping awake every fifteen or twenty minutes, desperate to be sure he had missed nothing. There had been no repeat of his dreamlike state while praying for Rayford, and he began to wonder if it had been more related to praying than sleeping. He also began to wonder how long Carpathia was supposed to remain dead. Was it possible he had been wrong all along? Was someone else the Antichrist, yet to be murdered and resurrected?

Tsion couldn’t imagine it. Many sincere believers had questioned his teaching that Antichrist would actually die from a wound to the head. Some said the Scriptures indicated that it would be merely a wound that made him appear dead.

He tried to assure them that his best interpretation of the original Greek led him to believe that the man would actually die and then be indwelt by Satan himself upon coming back to life.

Given that, he hoped he had been right about Carpathia. There would be no doubt of the death and resurrection if the body had begun to decay, was autopsied, embalmed, and prepared to lie in state. If Carpathia were dead even close to twenty-four hours, few could charge him with faking his demise. Too many eyewitnesses had seen the man expire, and though the cause of death had not yet been announced, that was forthcoming. The world, including Tsion, had to believe the gunshot provided the kill.

The TV carried yet another airing of an earlier pronouncement of grief and promised vengeance from Leon Fortunate. Tsion found himself nodding and dozing until the phone woke him.

“Leah! It’s so good to hear your voice. We have been unable to reach—”

She interrupted and filled him in on Hattie and the danger posed to the safe house. Tsion stood and began pacing as he listened. “We have nowhere else to go, Leah,” he said. “But at the very least we had better get underground.”

They agreed that she would call if she got near the safe house and was sure no one was casing the place. Otherwise, Leah would keep her distance and try to find Hattie. How, she said, she had no idea.

Despite his weariness, Tsion was suddenly energized.

He was responsible for Chloe and Kenny, and though the macho stuff was usually left to Rayford or Buck, he had to act. He trotted up the stairs and grabbed a few clothes from his closet and a stack of books. He returned to the first floor and piled these near the old chest freezer that stood next to the refrigerator.

Tsion added his laptop and the TV to the pile, then outed every light in the place except the single bulb hanging from the ceiling in the hall bath. He carefully pushed open the door to Buck and Chloe’s bedroom, knocking softly. He did not hear Chloe stir, and he could not see her in the darkness. He knocked again and whispered her name.

When he heard a quick motion from the crib on the far wall, Tsion fell silent, holding his breath. He had hoped not to wake the baby. Clearly, Kenny was pulling himself up to stand. The crib rocked, and Tsion imagined the little guy with his hands on the railing, rocking, making the crib squeak. “Mowning!

Ga’mowning, Mama!”

“It’s not morning, Kenny,” he whispered.

“Unca Zone!” Kenny squealed, rocking vigorously.

And with that, Chloe awoke with a start.

“It’s just me, dear,” Tsion said quickly.

Twenty minutes later the three of them were relocated underground, having lifted aside the rack of smelly, spoiled food in the freezer that led to the stairs.

Kenny, beaming from his playpen, had loved seeing his mother and Tsion reappear downstairs every few minutes with more stuff. He was not so happy when they muscled his crib down there and he had to make the switch.

Fortunately the underground was large enough that Tsion could set up the TV in a spot where the light and sound did not reach Chloe and Kenny’s sleeping quarters. He monitored the doings from New Babylon, but every time he had need to venture into the other part of the shelter, he heard Chloe groggily trying to talk Kenny into going back to sleep.

He poked his head through the curtain. “How about he watches TV with me until he falls asleep again, hmm?”

“Oh, Tsion, that would be wonderful.”

“Unca Zone!”

“TV?” Tsion said as he lifted the boy from the crib.

Kenny kicked and laughed. “TV, Unca Zone! Video!”

“We’ll watch my show,” Tsion whispered as he carried him to his chair.

“You show!” Kenny said, holding Tsion’s face in his 121 hands. Tsion was transported to when his teenagers had been toddlers and sat in his lap as he read or watched television. Kenny was quickly bored with the repetitious news, but he quit asking for a video and concentrated on tracing the contours of Tsion’s ears, squeezing his nose, and rubbing his palm back and forth on Tsion’s stubble. Eventually he began to blink slowly, tucked a thumb in his mouth, and turned to settle into the crook of Tsion’s elbow. When his head lolled over, Tsion gently carried him back to bed.

As he tucked a blanket around Kenny he heard Chloe turn and whisper, “Thank you, Unca Zone.”

“Thank you,” he said.

“Why didn’t you just go straight to the hotel?” Buck asked Chaim as he tried to flag down a cab.

“I was lucky enough the cabbie didn’t recognize me. How was I going to fool a desk clerk? I was counting on Jacov to get me in. Now I’m counting on you.

Anyway, how would we have found each other?”

“How did we find each other?” Buck said.

“I couldn’t think of any other place you might look, except at my home, and I didn’t expect you to risk that. I don’t think anybody is there anyway. I haven’t been able to raise anybody.”

Buck was struck by that unfortunate choice of words.

“They’re there, Chaim.”

“You did go there? Why don’t they answer? Did Jacov make it back? I expected he would call me.”

Buck spotted a cab sitting a couple of blocks off a busy thoroughfare. Grateful he didn’t have to answer Chaim directly yet, he said, “Wait here, and keep that blanket over your face.”

“You workin’?” he asked the cabbie.

“Hundred and fifty Nicks, only in the city.”

“A hundred, and my father is contagious.”

“No contagious.”

“OK, a hundred and fifty. We’re only going to the Night Visitors. You know it?”

“I know. You keep old man in back, and don’t breathe on me.”

Buck signaled to Chaim, who shuffled over, hidden in the blanket. “Don’t try to talk, Father,” he said, helping him into the backseat. “And don’t cough on this nice young man.”

As if on cue, Chaim covered his mouth with the blanket and both hands and produced a juicy, wheezing cough that made the driver look quickly into the rearview mirror.

The Night Visitors was dark, not even an outside light on. “Are they closed?”

Buck said.

“Only for now,” the driver said. “Probably open again at dawn. One-fifty. I gotta go.”

“Wait until I see if I can rouse anybody,” Buck said, getting out.

“Don’t leave him in here! I gotta go. Money now!”

“You’ll get your money when we get a room.”

The driver slammed the car into Park and turned it off, folding his arms across his chest.

BUCK’S
phone rang as he was trying to peer through the front window of the Night Visitors. “Laslos!” he said, stepping around the corner of the building and into the shadows. The cabbie honked, and Buck signaled him to wait a minute.

“Get this man out of my cab!”

“Five minutes!” Buck said.

“Fifty more Nicks!”

“He’s there with you, Lukas?” Buck said. “How am I supposed to-does he know he’s wanted here-he does? ... Is Leah with him? ... Oh, that’s good. We need a way out of here, and there’s no way he can risk coming back. Never mind. I’ll handle that. Listen, does he have to see anyone before he takes off? ... You can’t be sure airport personnel won’t be on alert. His face is on international TV every few minutes. Do you know anyone who can give him a new look? ... He’ll need new papers too. Thanks, Laslos! I have to call my wife.”

Buck dialed Chloe, but her phone rang and rang.

When he returned to the cab, the driver was out and screaming. “Now! Go! No more this man in my car!”

Buck paid him and helped Chaim out, pushing him into an alley while he banged on the windows and door and tried to rouse the manager.

Tsion heard something upstairs and ran to the utility box to shut down the power. If the GC searched the place, it would be clear someone had been living there recently, as food in the refrigerator would still be fresh and lots of personal belongings remained. But if they found power meters still spinning, they would know someone was still there somewhere.

Tsion held his breath in the darkness. It was a phone! Had Chloe forgotten to bring hers down? He rushed to the stairs, pushed the plywood away from the bottom of the freezer, pushed up the smelly rack, and lifted himself out. He felt his way to Chloe’s room and followed the sound to her phone. Just as he reached it, it stopped ringing. The caller ID showed Buck’s code. Tsion hit the callback button, but Buck’s phone was busy.

While continuing to bang with one hand, Buck speeddialed David Hassid with the other. He got only David’s 126 machine. When he hung up, his call button was illuminated. His caller ID showed he had received a call from Chloe’s phone. He was about to call her back when a light came on in the Night Visitors, followed by slamming, stomping, and cursing.

“We have a reservation!” Buck shouted.

“You’ll have a bullet if you don’t shut up!” came the voice from inside. “We closed at midnight and we open again at six!”

“You’re up now, so give us our room!”

“You lost your room when you didn’t show up! Who are you, Tangvald or Goldman?”

Buck whispered desperately to Chaim, “Who are we?”

“Do I look like a Tangvald?”

“Goldman, and my father is sick. Let us in!”

“We’re full!”

“You’re lying! You held two rooms till you went to bed and then gave them both away?”

“Leave me alone!”

“I’ll knock until you let us in!”

“I’ll shoot you if you knock once more!”

The light went out. Buck put his phone in his pocket and banged on the door with both fists.

“You’re a dead man!”

“Just open up and give us a room!”

More swearing, then the light, then the door opened an inch. The man stuck his fingers out. “Five hundred Nicks cash.”

“Let me see the key.”

The man dangled it at the end of a six-inch block of wood. Buck produced the cash, and the key came flying out. “Around back, third floor. If I didn’t need the money, I’d have shot you.”

“You’re welcome,” Buck said.

The room was a hole. A single bed, one straight-back chair, and a toilet and sink. Buck pulled out his phone and sat in the chair, pointing Chaim to the bed.

As Buck tried Chloe’s phone, Chaim kicked off his slippers and stretched out on the bed, atop the ratty spread and under his own blanket.