The Redeemed (22 page)

He looked back at what was left of the church.

Sarah Roberts was dead.

Chapter 37

On her last hop, her leg exhausted, she was still too far away. When the first explosion hit her from behind, it knocked her off her foot. She landed in the center of the baptismal font. The circular marble fountain was over eight feet in diameter. The explosion gave her the extra boost needed, as her final hop would’ve fallen short.

A burning heat covered her body the instant she was airborne, then cooled just as instantly when submerged in the water of the font. She dropped to the bottom of the water, and secured her hands to the sides to remain as low as possible.
 

Explosion after explosion rippled above her. Flames roared over the font like an angry orange cloud, held back by the cover of water in its attempt to touch her. But her time in the baptismal font was coming to an end.

More explosions sounded throughout the church. It was falling apart, leaving her exposed. Another explosion blew chunks of rock and stone over the font, small pieces landing in the water.

She needed to breathe. Her lungs were starving, but the air above the font had blackened, the only light coming from the intense flames already consuming the church.

The marble cracked beside her head. Water began to gush out of the ruined font. In seconds, her legs, which had floated higher than her upper body, were exposed to the heat-charged air.

She dropped to her knees, kept her head low, and as the water emptied, she cupped her hands over her nose and breathed in three times rapidly. Then she dove over the side hoping she wouldn’t knock herself unconscious with the pain in her ribs.

She landed hard, rolled onto a burning piece of wood and rolled off it just as fast. Her yelp brought an influx of raw, blackened air into her lungs. She coughed and hacked, her eyes blurring, her rib cage causing a fire of its own.

As her lungs struggled to cope with limited oxygen, her wet clothes and hair offered a shield from the flames and heat. She had a minute, maybe less, before her smoking clothes would lose their moisture, then catch fire.

Sarah got onto her hands and knees, kept her head low and crawled as fast as she could toward the side of the building. A deafening crash obliterated her hearing momentarily. She looked over her shoulder long enough to see a part of the wooden roof had collapsed, destroying what was left of the baptismal font she had just vacated.

After another coughing bout, she pushed on, her head getting foggy.

Vivian, where are you when I need you most?

Her arms gave way and she dropped to her elbows. Another crash behind her shook the floor. The thought of a thousand-pound chunk of stone wall or a large piece of the wooden roof crushing her like a watermelon forced her to push on using her elbows instead of hands, her nose skimming the ground in search of any remaining oxygen.

The wet clothes had become lighter, now only a thin dampness against her skin. It was like the sun was crashing into the Earth and her crawling away was as pointless as an ant rushing along the sidewalk before a large shoe came down.

The last breath she inhaled tasted like dead air, soot, and thick dust, offering no oxygen for the muscles she needed to use. She coughed hard in an attempt to clear her lungs, then cupped her hands over her mouth and nose to breathe as her eyes watered with the effort.

More crashing behind her. Something else smashed down. One quick look over her shoulder offered a glimpse of the blue sky through the towering flames.

Directly above her was a stone outcropping where the second floor stone balcony started.

The coughing and hacking caused her vision to dim. Collapsing now meant death. The fire behind her crept closer as all the wooden pews roared in flames. Other things fell and smashed to the floor. The crazy sound of police sirens and fire trucks reached her deep inside the church.

She pushed on once more, her clothes no longer wet, clinging to her as if she wore them to a sauna. Her arms weakened and gave way, her chin connected with the stone floor. But now her head had dipped lower than her body. She faltered, her consciousness wavered, threatening to succumb to the elements around her.

Why is my neck craned downward? Is there a hole in the floor?

Her oxygen-starved mind lost focus. One of Vivian’s foreign thoughts entered her consciousness, crisp and clear.

Stairs
.

The stairs to the crypt.

The fire raged closer. Something banged somewhere in the church. More sirens reached her.

As Sarah coughed, pain wracked her chest, waking her enough to open her eyes again. She blinked rapidly to see through the black smoke. An opening, dark and cool lay before her. The darkness of the church’s crypt beckoned her.

With the last bit of energy, she pushed with her foot as she pulled on the edge of the stairs. Then she did it again. She wondered if a lung could collapse under these conditions.

By the third stair, her body weight and momentum eased her down headfirst. She slid along the fieldstone steps as if she were a sled made of jelly. The air was cleaner. It was sweet, cool and tasted delicious. The heat dissipated instantly at the bottom of the steps, the cool air gently touching her heat-ravaged skin.

At the bottom, she rolled onto her back and coughed to clear her lungs, but it didn’t work. It felt like a layer of black soot coated them on the inside.

Debris from above followed her down a few steps. She had to get deeper. A corner somewhere, an alcove.

The crypt’s roof was made of stone. It left her with the impression that it was excavated before the church was built and the designers fortified the crypt to withstand earthquakes.

She couldn’t crawl anymore, and the pain in her chest was too intense to keep using her arms. The coughing had aggravated the cracked rib and her skin ached all over her body from the heat above.

Slightly more alert with the cooler, cleaner air of the crypt, Sarah tucked her arms to her side and rolled. She rolled in the darkness, waiting for a wall or an abutment of some kind to cease her spinning.

There must’ve been a downward slope in the crypt because she was suddenly rolling a lot faster than she expected. She coughed, shouted at the pain, instinctively curled into a ball and slammed against a stone wall, her broken foot hitting the wall first.

The pain from her wounds raised a fire on the inside. It was the last cough, the last scream, that gagged her. She hacked, thinking she would vomit as her throat constricted, choking on her gag reflex.

Then, fortunately, she passed out and the pain was no more.

Temporarily.

Chapter 38

Parkman was helped back to an ambulance where paramedics tried to get him inside the vehicle.

“But sir, we need to redress that wound.”

“Do it out here,” Parkman said. “I can’t have the church out of my sight. I’m not going to any hospital.”

The paramedics stepped away and conferred out of earshot as Aaron walked over, his face a mask of dirt. Tears had cleared paths down his cheeks. The fire raged behind him, the stone walls blackened.

“You okay?” Aaron asked.

“Not really.”

“What’s up with these two?” Aaron gestured at the paramedics. “It looked like they were arguing with you.”

“They want to redress my wound.”

“Sounds like a good idea. What’s the issue?”

Parkman met Aaron’s eyes. “The redressing won’t take place here and I am not going to the local hospital. I won’t leave this area until the flames are out and we’ve either found her body or discovered her alive.”

Aaron’s eyes watered. “Parkman, there’s a reality we may have to face here, but I don’t give up easy.”

“Neither do I.”

“When she locked that door and we ran around to the back, she didn’t come out. According to Hirst, she was still by the pews in the center of the church, firing her weapon into the ceiling yelling about how everyone else had to get out. There was no way she made it. The roof caved in within minutes from the first explosion.” He wiped at more tears. “We have to face the fact that she sacrificed herself for us and all those people.”

“And the cops that lined both sides of those pews,” Parkman added, a hint of anger in his voice. “After all they did for Sarah in her short life, let’s not forget her sacrifice she made for those cops.”

“I guess she got her wish.”

“What wish was that?” Parkman asked.

“To be redeemed.”

“That was one of the last things she said. But if cleaning the slate for her meant death, then she’s a twisted girl because I’d rather her be alive and angry at me than dead.”

“Be careful what you wish for. Sarah angry at you isn’t a pretty thought.”

The attempt at humor didn’t go over well. They both looked at the church as the Los Angeles Fire Department battled the flames that had a life of their own, as if fueled by Hell itself.

“You two okay?” Hirst walked up to them. He saw the fresh blood on Parkman. “Hey guys,” he said to the paramedics still talking on the side. “You gonna do something about that?”

“He won’t let us take him to the hospital.”

Hirst turned to Parkman. “Why not? There’s no way anyone will be walking through that church until morning. Go get stitched up, rest for the evening and come back. I’ll authorize a personal walkthrough of the crime scene as soon as it’s deemed safe.”

One of the paramedics stepped in front of Parkman with a piece of paper and a pen.

“Excuse me, sir. If you won’t come to the hospital and let us do our job, I have to ask you to sign this form acknowledging that you denied our help.”

Parkman pushed the paper aside. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll go with you. But on one condition.”

“What’s that, sir?”

Parkman turned to Aaron. “Any news on Sarah is called in to me first.”

Aaron nodded. “Of course.”

Parkman allowed the paramedics to lift him inside the ambulance. Moments later, they pulled away.

Parkman whispered a prayer for Sarah as he wept all the way to the hospital.

Chapter 39

Aaron later joined Parkman at the hospital where they were offered two beds in their own room for the night. Sleep had been elusive. The last time Aaron checked the clock it had been after three in the morning.

He snapped awake. 7:34 a.m.

No one had called his cell.

He jumped out of bed, used the bathroom and stepped into the hall to call Hirst. “Anything new?”

“Nothing. Fire marshals and investigators are about to begin their walkthrough of the burned out remains, but that’s it.”

“She didn’t turn up anywhere, hand waving in the air, shouting something like, ‘I’m okay’?”

“No.” There was a pause. “I’m sorry.”

“I’ll rouse Parkman. We’ll come down.”

“Okay. And I’ve got something I want you two to look at.”

“What?”

“It was something Sarah said before she forced me into the church.”

“What’d she say?”

“When you get here. Nothing will change between now and then.”

“Okay.”

Half an hour later, Parkman and Aaron were in a taxi on their way to the remains of the church. They rode in silence.

The fire department had blocked the area around the burned-out building. Aaron got the driver to maneuver as close as he could. Hirst started toward them.

The blackened skeletal remains of support beams were all that was left of Sarah’s grave. Where sections of the stone walls still stood, he saw her strength in life. And where the roof was gone, leaving only ashes in its wake, he envisioned his heart, in ashes, burned and empty after having known and loved Sarah.

“Why?” he mumbled under his breath, her loss not completely registering yet.

“Why?” Parkman nodded beside him, looking like he came off the set of The Walking Dead.

The taxi pulled away as Hirst walked up.

“What did you want to tell us?” Aaron asked Hirst.

“It’s about what Sarah said before she entered the church.”

“What did she say?”

“That she didn’t believe this was about Catholicism.”

“What could she mean by that? What’d she think this was about?”

“She didn’t say exactly.”

“And?” Aaron frowned. “What have you learned? Found any bodies? Uncovered some random truth?”

“Aaron,” Parkman said softly. “Easy. This wasn’t his fault.”

“I know.” Aaron looked at the ground. “I’m just angry.”

“Understandably.” Hirst patted Aaron’s shoulder. “Across the street in that building,” Hirst pointed, “there’s an empty apartment on the third floor. The sniper was set up in there. We found bullet casings, an empty coffee cup, and the gun he used.”