Valley of the Shadow (18 page)

    He led Devon across a wide loading dock, into the main warehouse. The place was packed with yellow industrial shelving units loaded with plain brown corrugated boxes of various sizes. They moved down several aisles until they came to a narrow set of stairs leading up to a mezzanine office area.

    They climbed the stairway. Pale Man followed, whistling to himself. “Wow, this guy must be pretty important.”

    Devon didn’t say anything. He knew better than to act cocky here.

    The guard led Devon to a small, sparsely furnished office and told him to sit. Pale Man leaned against the wall. “S’matter, little chief? You seem somewhat subdued. You’re not nervous or anything, are you?”

    “Man, you don’t mess with this guy. That’s all I’m saying.”

    Pale Man chuckled. “I think that’ll change. Greater is he that is with you than he that runs this little show.”

    Devon wrinkled his forehead. “What?”

    At that point the door opened and a wiry black man entered, wearing tan slacks and a dark brown sweater. With thinning hair and small, wire-rimmed glasses, Oswald Karenga may not have been physically imposing, but Devon knew what the man was capable of. He’d only met him once before. More accurately, he’d only been in the same room with him once before. He’d never actually had direct dealings with him.

    The guy was from South Africa or someplace. Devon had heard bits and snatches of his history and reputation. He had numerous international connections, involved mainly in imports. Diamonds mostly, but a whole host of other products as well.

    He was the guy who supplied the suppliers’ suppliers. Several levels removed from anything Devon had ever been involved in. The fact that he was even willing to see Devon unannounced was either very good news… or very, very bad.

    “Mista Mahshall, yes?” Karenga’s accent was thick.

    “Uh, yeah. I… look, I wouldn’t even be bothering you except I’m a little desp—”

    “That was a nice escape yesterday,” Karenga said. “My people were quite impressed.”

    “You . . . you heard about that already?”

    “Oh yes.” Karenga chuckled. “I keep a very close eye on my employees. At all times. Now then—” he sat down behind his desk—“you have something for me?”

    Devon felt his stomach churn. Something for him? His mind was blank. What was the guy talking about? Devon looked up at Pale Man, who only shrugged.

    “Sounds like you’ve gotten yourself in a bit of trouble, chief.”

    Karenga leaned forward. “Don’t give me that look, like you don’t know what I’m talking about. Where is it?”

    “Yo, man . . . look, I’m serious here. I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

    Karenga leaned back, opened a drawer, and produced several photographs. He slid them across the desk. Devon glanced at them. His eyes widened.

    It was J.G. and Apollo—Devon’s immediate bosses—lying faceup on asphalt in pools of blood. Their eyes open but empty.

    Devon swore. “Hey, man, I’m telling you, I don’t know what’s going on.”

    “Apparently, neither did they,” Karenga said. “Now you were the only other party involved in the transaction, and I want to know where the item is.”

    “Transaction?”

    Pale Man chuckled and started mimicking Karenga’s accent. “Apparently you ’ave someting thees man wants. It ees d’only reason you ah steel alive. And you ’ave dat infahmation locked up inside yo’ah leettle head.”

    Devon’s mind was reeling. He said to Karenga, “I—I can find it. I can get it for you. But I need a gun first. I’ll get it for you. I mean… that’s why I broke out. So I can get you the… the item.”

    Karenga’s expression darkened. “You’re not trying to bargain with me, are you? Is that what you are doing?”

    Pale Man bent down. “See, the night you got shot, you were involved in a certain transaction. You and your little friends there were in charge of a sizable donation from Mr. Karenga, which you were supposed to exchange for a small item of considerable value. But something went bad that night. And now he’s out his money and no one seems to know where the item is. Well, except for you. Supposedly.”

    Devon shook his head at Karenga. “No, sir. Straight up, I’ll get it. I just need a gun.”

    Karenga laughed. “If you think you will be getting anything from me before I see the item, you are sadly mistaken.”

    Pale Man sighed. “Come on, chief. Show some backbone. He won’t respect you otherwise.”

    Devon felt a surge of anger inside him. His hands trembled and suddenly everything looked red. He felt himself leaping forward onto the desk and clutching a surprised Oswald Karenga by the throat. But now Devon wasn’t thinking. He was acting purely on impulse. He stood up on the desk, lifting Karenga out of his seat.

    Karenga’s eyes bulged; he struggled for breath.

    Devon pulled the man close. His voice deepened an octave. “You won’t get anything unless you give me a gun.”

    He tightened his grip, cutting off all air to Karenga’s lungs.

    Then he heard a whisper in his ear. “Careful, chief. We need this guy a little while longer.”

    Devon hesitated a moment, then dropped Karenga into his seat, unconscious. Devon got down and searched the desk. He found a gun inside one of the lower drawers. He popped out the clip to verify it was loaded, then snapped it back and quietly left the office.

    Karenga had two personal bodyguards posted at the bottom of the stairs.

    “I’ll take care of them,” Pale Man said and disappeared down the grated steps.

    Devon watched quietly. After a few moments, the guards seemed to become agitated about something and moved off into the warehouse. Devon slipped quickly down the stairs and back outside.

    He started up the car, and the next thing he knew, Pale Man was sitting behind him. “Don’t say I never did anything for you, chief.”

    Devon put the car in gear and tore out of the parking lot.

A TINY SPARK OF LIGHT
had popped up over the western horizon and cruised in a graceful and swirling path toward them. Mitch had no idea of its size, composition, or identity, but it continued to grow larger as it approached.

    “What is that?”

    Nathan smiled. “That’s what I brought you here to see.”

    After a minute it passed by no more than fifty feet overhead. Mitch stared, openmouthed. It was long and slender, maybe five or six feet long, and it glowed with an intense yellow light—so bright that Mitch couldn’t make out any other details. It left a long, shimmering trail in its wake as it continued on a course toward the rainbow vortex in the east. It shrank into the distance until at last it was a pinpoint of light again. Then it started to accelerate, as if the vortex itself was attracting it somehow. Drawing it inside.

    A moment later, it disappeared completely, lost within the brilliant expanse.

    Nathan wore a soft grin. He stared at the vortex and shook his head. “You know what that was?”

    Mitch shrugged. “Not really. No.”

    “A spirit,” Nathan said. “A soul on its final journey home.”

    “A spirit? So then that’s . . . heaven?”

    “Not exactly.” Nathan chuckled. “That’s just the front door.”

    Mitch spotted a second spark in the sky, moving toward them. “There’s another one.”

    The second spirit drifted past at a much higher altitude, spiraling around as if in giddy excitement, toward the vortex. It too was sucked inside and vanished from view.

    After several more minutes, a third spirit appeared on the horizon. This one swooped side to side in long, gentle arcs. It dipped low, skimming the clouds like a heron gliding over a lake, trailing its feet in the water. Then it accelerated right past them, ascending high above them.

    Nathan climbed onto a rock and waved his arms wildly. The spirit paused in its flight. It turned and descended toward them, curving around on a graceful arc, like an eagle gliding on an air current. Nathan stretched his hand up. The spirit approached and hovered over him.

    Mitch could see more detail now. It was human . . . in a way. He could see a face, of sorts, though not a face of flesh and bone. This was a face of pure light. As though light itself had become a solid mass. But it seemed to convey expression and emotion in a way Mitch could recognize, though he wasn’t sure exactly how he was able to recognize it. It was unlike anything he had ever seen before. It was more luminous, more intense, and more graceful than any human being he’d ever seen on Earth.

    Entranced, Mitch instinctively touched his own face. Its cold and meaty features felt like a dead fish. A sudden pang of embarrassment washed over him and he flushed with shame to be in the presence of something so beautiful.

    Was this what resided inside every human being? the spirit that every human body contained? As if all their flesh and bone were simply part of a dismal cocoon that masked something far more wondrous.

    The spirit extended a glowing appendage that looked vaguely like an arm. The light seemed to form itself into a slender hand that reached down to touch Nathan’s outstretched fingertips. And for a moment, Nathan’s entire body was bathed in a warm, orange glow. He closed his eyes. His clothes rustled as if a strong breeze were rushing past him. Then the spirit looked over at Mitch and…

    And smiled.

    Mitch blinked. He felt something growing inside his chest, pressing against his ribs with an almost physical force. It flowed up into his neck and his face.

    Before he knew what was happening, Mitch’s eyes were pouring tears. He couldn’t stop himself yet he couldn’t look away. It was like someone had turned on a spigot and his emotions were gushing out uncontrollably. His legs buckled and he sank to his knees.

    The spirit glided closer and hovered over him. Luminous fingers brushed against his cheek. Mitch felt something like a jolt of electricity rush through his body. The hair on his arms stood up. His skin flushed with warmth. For that brief second, every neuron in his body fired as though his entire nervous system was electrified. But there was no pain, no discomfort of any kind. Just a tingling rush of warmth and an overwhelming sense of joy. Complete and perfect.

    The spirit zoomed up again, accelerating toward the door of heaven. Mitch watched, his cheeks glistening, until it reached the vortex and disappeared.

    Mitch found himself physically shaken. His emotions were completely jumbled now, battering around in his head like the Ping-Pong balls inside one of those lottery machines. He felt an alternating mixture of joy and awe that quickly settled into a profound sense of emptiness. A feeling that he had lost something incredibly precious that he would never see again.

    He wiped his eyes. He suddenly felt embarrassed that he’d been blubbering like a child. He struggled to regain his composure and felt Nathan’s hand on his shoulder.

    “It’s a beautiful thing, Mitch. To finally be free from our mortal failings. Every petty and selfish thought. Every shred of hate.”

    Mitch stood, wrestling his thoughts and emotions into line. It was like trying to herd a flock of spooked sheep back into a pen. He rolled his neck and took a deep breath. “Is that what we happens when we die?”

    Nathan didn’t respond at first. Then he said softly, “For some.”

    “What do you mean?”

    “That’s not our natural condition, Mitch. Most people never get to that state.” He nodded back down the mountain. “Most humans never rise above their own selfish nature. They won’t even acknowledge their true condition. They live their entire lives in a delusion, thinking everything’s okay. Thinking they’re okay.”

    Mitch looked back down the path they had climbed. It disappeared into the mist. Below it lay a gray, lifeless country of souls wandering about. The walking dead. Not really knowing what was happening to them. Unaware of the danger they were in. Doomed to wander a time until there was no hope of returning. No chance of ever going back.

    Until the creatures came from the shadows and dragged them away. Dragged them off to the forest. To…

    To where?

    “What happens to them?” Mitch said. “Down there. What happens to those people? Where do they end up?”

    Nathan’s eyes lowered. He turned away. “You don’t want to know.”

    “Yes, I do!” Mitch flared with anger and spun Nathan around. “Where do they end up?”

    Mitch could see pain in Nathan’s eyes. They shifted back and forth, as if he was trying to think of an answer. “There’s a place…”

    “Where?”

    Nathan’s gaze lifted. “There at the edge. A chasm. I can’t describe it more than that. But I can feel it. I can sense it from here. Fear and anger. Lost in unending darkness.”

    Mitch blinked and stood back. “What are you talking about? Hell?”

    Nathan just stared at him. Then nodded.

    “Hell,” Mitch repeated, shaking his head. “You’re telling me this place—down there—it leads to hell.”

    “For most.”

    “So all of those people down there that’ve been dragged off by those . . . things. They’re all in hell now?”

    “I told you, you didn’t want to know.”

    Mitch’s breathing grew labored in the thin air. Sin and hell. He felt like he was back in church again. Trapped in his father’s religion. He sat down and tried to calm himself. “I don’t feel so well.”

    At that moment another glowing spirit whizzed past overhead. They watched it disappear into the vortex.

    Nathan shook his head. “We better get back down. We got a long way to go.”

IT WAS SHORTLY AFTER TEN O’CLOCK
Saturday morning when Conner pulled into the LaPorte County Nursing Home five miles outside of Westville, Indiana. It was a low, brown brick building designed with three wings around a central common and office area. It sat on ten rural acres surrounded by towering oak trees, now nearly void of leaves.

    The parking lot was only sparsely populated, and Conner figured he had arrived before the peak visitation time. Though this far out in the country, he doubted there was ever a real peak visitation period. Besides, it was a nursing home. Conner guessed that most people—who weren’t residents, anyway—tried to spend as little time in here as possible.