The Special People

Chapter 17

Isaac spoke to Wilson in a snakelike voice.

“Brother.”

Wilson drew his gun and fired. Kristen and Kyle did the same. The rest of the people ran back the way they had come as Isaac jumped behind the wall to dodge the bullets. The three of them took off after the others, firing shots behind them as they ran. Wilson was the first to hear the click of his empty magazine, followed by Kristen, then Kyle soon afterward.

After the ammo ran out, they could hear Isaac catching up to them rapidly. They ran forward with all their might. Up ahead, there was a fork in the corridor; the people leading the group veered left without pausing to consider their direction.

“Turn right! You’re going the wrong way!” Kristen yelled to them.

Those who could hear her did an about-face and headed back toward the right corridor. But two of the officers kept moving forward. Jessica felt blood spray the back of her neck as the two officers, now behind her, were skewered by several spears ejected from the walls. Wilson, Kristen, and Kyle made it to the turn before the others.

“Hurry, follow me!” Kristen shouted toward them. “There’s another trap coming up! Jump where I do!”

She jumped over a large stone tile, followed by Wilson, Kyle, then the others. They heard a scream behind them as the officer bringing up the rear was attacked by Isaac . Matt, distracted by the sound, stumbled as he jumped and landed on the stone tile. Spears shot out of the ceiling, impaling his body against the ground. Kora looked back to see Jessica and Sarah, who were running behind Matt, now trapped by the spears blocking the corridor.

“Help us! Please!” they yelled desperately, but it was too late. Isaac caught up to them and killed them before they could scream. Then he started on the spears, yanking and pulling and kicking in an effort to dislodge them.

“There’s nothing you can do for them. Come on. He’s trapped too. This is our chance,” said Dutch.

They all continued down the maze of corridors, following Kristen around the loop. As they approached the entrance, Isaac leaped from a side corridor, taking down the nearest student with one blow. He turned his attention toward Kora and leaped at her from behind, pinning her to the ground.

Lisa turned to see Isaac kneeling on Kora’s back. She turned, picked up a stone, and threw it at Isaac as hard as she could, hitting him in the forehead. He glared briefly at her then looked back down at Kora.

“Yeyecame Atl. I kill you at last,” Isaac whispered in her ear as he caressed her neck with the tip of his finger. She screamed out in pain as his sharp fingernail sliced a bloody line across the surface of her skin.

Lisa reached down and grabbed a shovel lying on the ground. She ran at Isaac and swung the shovel at his head, but he looked up and caught it. He tugged on the shovel, pulling Lisa toward him. He grabbed her around the neck, and she kicked him hard between the legs. He let go of her, grimacing in pain, and rolled over on his side. Dutch came sprinting over and helped Kora and Lisa up. They all ran out of the temple and down the stone stairs.

The rest of the group had made it to the van and were waiting with the door open and the engine running. When they saw Dutch coming toward them with the girls in tow, Kyle and Wilson jumped out to help Kora, who was looking a little worse for the wear. Dutch reached back to help Lisa just as a snake wrapped around her neck from behind and yanked her back toward the temple entrance. Kora looked out the open van door in time to see the snake head sink its fangs into Lisa’s neck. Her body twitched for a moment then hung there lifeless.

“Noooooooo!” Kora screamed in horror.

Dutch jumped into the van and slammed the door. Kristen stomped on the gas pedal and took off along the dirt road. Isaac ran after them, but he could not catch the van. He slowed to a stop as he watched them drive away.

No one spoke. The only sounds were the rumbling of the engine, the bumping of the tires over the gravel, and Kora’s sobs. More sobs soon joined hers as the reality of the situation began to sink in. A flood of emotions filled each person: anger, hate, fear, confusion, rage, terror; elation and joy at having escaped; guilt at having survived when so many of their friends and colleagues had not.

For some, there was only numbness as their minds and bodies simply refused to process what had happened, refused to bear the weight of the terrible scene they had just left; they stared into nothing, not knowing where they were or even who they were. The horrific memories of dead bodies, desperate screams, and gunshots had left a mark so deep it would haunt them for the rest of their lives, but how long would that be? Isaac was real. He was alive, and he was a monster capable of atrocities beyond imagination. Was there a soul on earth that could run or hide from him?

After they had been on the main road for about ten minutes, Dutch climbed into the front passenger seat. He looked over at Kristen; tears streamed down her face as she drove.

“Everything is going to be okay,” he said.

“No, it’s not. Those kids were my responsibility.”

Saying it out loud made it hurt so much more; she tried unsuccessfully to keep the surge of grief at bay, clamping a hand over her mouth to stifle the sobs, but it was too overwhelming, and she began shaking uncontrollably.

“Here, maybe I should drive,” said Dutch. “Pull over for a second.”

She pulled the van onto the side of the road. Dutch quickly helped her into the passenger seat then ran around and climbed into the driver’s seat. Once they were on the road again, he glanced over at Kristen. She had lost all composure, and she was slumped in her seat with her face in her hands. He didn’t know what to say to comfort her or anyone else.

He spoke over his right shoulder. “I’m going to be taking you all to a secure location until we can sort through what just happened.”

A couple of people nodded slightly in response.

Wilson sat frozen in his seat, haunted by what Kristen had said to Dutch, replaying her words over and over in his mind: “Those kids were my responsibility.” He thought back to earlier in the day when she had told him, “You’ll be responsible for the seven students that rode with you.” He thought of Matt, killed by the spears, and Jessica and Sarah trapped behind them. If only he had stayed behind and not ran out ahead of them, they might still be alive. He looked around the van. Only one of the four students in the van had ridden with him—James. He didn’t even see what happened to the others—Carrie, Brad, and Sam. He had failed Kristen, and now she blamed herself.

He reached forward and held her shoulder. She grabbed his hand and held her cheek against it, still sobbing. Kristen was his best friend. He wished with all his might that he could take away her pain. But what could he do?

Dutch radioed in, “This is Special Agent Goodman. The temple was a massacre. We were unprepared for what we were dealing with. I have with me nine survivors including myself and—” He paused, turning to Edmonds. “What’s your first name?”

“John,” he replied.

“—Lieutenant John Edmonds of the Marine Corp.”

A voice coming from the radio responded, “Copy that. Four more survivors made it out and were recovered before you. They are currently en route to headquarters. Dutch—are you okay?”

“I don’t know. None of our training could have prepared us for that.”

As they passed the biker bar, which was still swarming with police, it became apparent to the teachers and students that this had to have been Isaac ’s doing. The temple wasn’t the first to get hit, and almost certainly, it wouldn’t be the last. His trail of destruction was staggering, and it had only been a day. How long would this continue? The drive into town seemed to take an eternity.

Isaac removed the clothes and tactical gear of one of the dead SWAT team officers, put them on, and then walked outside and climbed into a large black armored truck with SWAT labeled on the side. The truck was still running. He examined the inside and noticed there were a lot more buttons and knobs he didn’t recognize. He climbed into the seat with the circle protruding from the front and began pulling knobs and pushing buttons. Lights flashed, water sprayed onto the front glass, sticks moved back and forth to remove the water, and air began flowing into the truck with more force. He stepped on some pedals on the floor. The wide pedal didn’t seem to do anything, but the narrow one caused a roaring sound and a lot of vibration. It was apparent that this was the mechanism that caused it to move, but something was preventing it. He pushed a few more buttons then tried moving the lever off to the side of the circular handle, but it was stuck. After a few minutes of tinkering around, he figured out that he could move the lever when he pressed the wide pedal, and he could move the truck forward if the little orange pointer was on the D and backward if it was on the R by pressing down on the narrow pedal. Turning the circular handle controlled the direction the vehicle traveled.

Away he went, driving back up onto the street and past the crime scene at the biker bar, and he came upon the spot where he had first climbed down the mountain. There were still a few officers at this section of road, so he continued on around the south bend of mountain to prevent any more conflict so close to his cave.

To the south and west of the mountain were deep canyons. He stopped the truck at the corner where the edge of the canyon and the foot of the mountain met. It took a little more tinkering to keep the truck stopped. Every time he took his foot off the wide pedal, the truck would lurch forward, but when he moved the lever all the way up and the orange pointer was on the P, the truck stayed in place. Pleased with his discovery, he turned the key, and the rumbling of the engine stopped.

He got out of the truck, climbed the mountain, and scaled down the hole to enter his cave. He tried to gather his thoughts as he walked through the cave forest. How could I have been so stupid? How could I have forgotten about them? Now they know I’m here. I should have prepared for this. Now I have little time. They have my sword—and his. I need to find it, but where do I look? I need more time.