Those of the Margin: a Paranormal Suspense Thriller (Derek Cole Suspense Thriller Book 2) (26 page)

The knocking on the front door had a vacuum-like result, sucking the breath out of everyone in the living room. All were frozen in their positions, some out of hope of rescue, and Rita out of disbelief and anger that her control of the situation was in jeopardy. A few seconds after the first knocks were sounded, the visitor knocked again. The knocking was louder and filled with obvious intention. Still, Rita remained motionless. When the knocking continued again, she turned to her captives, saying in a hushed tone, "If anyone makes a sound..." then she pointed the shotgun directly at Robby's scared face.

Again, the knocking sounded. Rhythmic and consistent, it filled the house with its demands. Rita gestured to Maggie to get up. Rita walked close to Maggie and said, "Answer the door, and tell whoever it is to go away. You say one thing that I don't like, and your son's head will be splattered all over my walls."

The mental imagery shook Maggie to her core. She glanced down at Robby who was still sitting next to Matthew, his eyes infused with terror. "Don't you even think about hurting my son," Maggie demanded, and then walked to the front door. She hesitated when her hand reached the door handle, and she shot a determined glance at Rita.

"Who is it?" she asked through the still closed door.

"Father John Flannigan. Maggie, is that you?"

"Father," Maggie said, desperately trying to conceal her worry, "everything is fine. We are having a family conversation and need our privacy. I'll call you later this evening, but everything is fine. Thanks for stopping by."

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Derek and Mark took their positions, Mark at the backdoor and Derek just beneath the front window of Rita's house. He was just a few feet away from John, who was speaking to Maggie through the closed front door. When he heard Maggie tell John that everything was fine and that John should 'go away,' Derek gestured to John to keep the conversation going by rolling his hands in tight circles.

"Maggie," John struggled to say, "I really must insist on speaking to you right now."

Derek mouthed 'good, keep talking' to John as he slowly raised himself up to peer through the living room window. The drapes were drawn shut but a gap in the drapes was all that Derek needed.

"Father," Maggie said, her voice betraying her intention to sound calm, "please leave us alone. We have a lot to talk about and don't need a nosy priest forcing himself into our personal business." Saying the words hurt Maggie. She loved John and felt that he was too kind, too caring of a man to deserve those words being said to him.

"Maggie," John said, unaffected by the insult, "I insist, and I am coming in."

When John reached for the door handle, Derek saw a woman holding a shotgun move quickly towards the door. He watched as the woman hit Maggie with the barrel of the gun and then point it directly at the door.

"Down!" Derek screamed at John. "Get down," he yelled as the wooden door exploded in fury of horrible sounds and splintered wood.

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Derek's yell baffled John for a critical second. He turned quickly towards Derek, who was now charging towards him, then back to the door when he heard the noise that sounded as if someone had been hit and was falling to the ground. It was then that it registered. He should have moved away the second after Derek yelled to him. John wondered what would happen next. Would Derek reach him and knock him away from whatever was coming through the door? Would his feet register the danger the rest of his body was in and propel him away from the door? Would whatever was coming through the door that concerned Derek so much reach his body before either of the other two options were implemented?

He was shocked at both the deafening sound and how distorted his vision instantly became. The door exploded into a million splinters of wood, leaving a gaping hole, wide enough for him to crawl through, had he wanted to. But crawling through the uneven hole was far from his list of things to do. John was knocked away much further than he thought was possible. He landed in a drift of snow that nearly engulfed his entire body, yet, somehow, his view of the front door of Rita Bryant's house remained unbroken. He felt as if his eyes were forever locked on the splintered door, with its gaping hole and wisps of brown and white smoke spilling into the freedom of the outside air. He couldn't pull his sight away.

"Stay down," he heard Derek say. "Are you hit?"

John couldn't speak. His mind was still wondering what would happen, even after one of the possibilities he had imagined had obviously presented itself.

"Father, are you hit?" Derek demanded.

"Derek?" John managed. "What happened?"

"Stay down, and don't move."

Derek watched the front door open. He saw the shotgun first then he saw Maggie on the ground, her hands pressed over her temple. Then he saw the woman, her shotgun pointing directly at him.

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Mark's reaction was immediate. Though he didn't expect that Rita would fire off a round, her doing so only sped up his reaction. Mark threw his shoulder into the back door, shattering the glass and breaking the doorframe into an array of splintered wood pieces. As soon as he entered the room, he felt for and found a light switch. With the kitchen lights on, he clearly saw two children on the floor in the next room, Jack Bryant lying beneath a seven-foot high crucifix, and a woman, who he quickly assumed was Rita Bryant, moving toward him, a shotgun leading her way.

    
Rita heard the crashing sound coming from her kitchen. She spit with anger as she turned away from the sinner standing outside her front door and moved quickly to the filthy thief trying to steal her mission away.

Mark dove out of her line of fire just as he heard the familiar sound of a round being pumped into the shotgun's chamber. He stopped his rolling body and steadied his pistol as the shotgun's barrel came into his view.

"Freeze!" he commanded. "Police. Drop the shotgun and walk into the kitchen with your hands above your head."

His mandate only caused the shotgun's barrel to retreat back into the room where he had seen the two children and Jack Bryant.
 
Mark stood and moved towards the opening leading to the next room much more quickly than he had been trained to do. He knew that if he ever saw a trooper recruit moving as fast as he was towards an armed assailant, that he would berate the recruit with insults.

"We are all going to die someday," he would scream at the recruit, "but that doesn't mean you should run towards death. Your safety in every situation is more important than anyone else's."

And as he turned the corner and was no more than one foot into the adjoining room, he realized exactly why running into a room that was occupied by someone holding a gun was a bad idea.

Rita didn't hesitate or pause. As soon as Mark was in view, she unloaded the shotgun's payload.

"The curse of the Lord is on the house of the wicked, but He blesses the dwelling of the righteous. Evil is not allowed in my house," Rita said so calmly that Mark could hardly hear her words.

The slug hit him hard and directly in his chest. The force knocked him back three feet and sent him crashing over the small, four-chaired dining table in the kitchen. His breath was evicted from his lungs.

He watched as Rita came into his view. Though his vision was clouded, his ears filled with a deafening ringing, and his mind scattered, he knew that his bulletproof vest had stopped the slug from boring a hole through his heart and lungs. But as Rita stood above him, he knew that he was still several seconds away from having any control of his arms and legs. She pointed the shotgun several inches above where his vest could offer any protection.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

"I'm fine. Not hit," John managed to say.
 

"Then get on your feet. Rita fired off another round."

Derek raced through what was left of the front door. He paused only for a second to check on Maggie, who was still lying on the floor, unconscious but still very much alive.
 
He darted into the living room to his left, just in time to see Robby sprinting towards the kitchen.

"Robby, wait," he called.

But Robby was directed by something else. Derek watched as Robby sprinted through the kitchen, out through the door, and into the storm. He heard but ignored something that Jack Bryant said to him and sprinted after Robby. As he entered the kitchen, he saw Rita Bryant moving quickly towards the backdoor, yelling at Robby.

Derek, being without a weapon, decided to continue his sprint and aimed his good shoulder directly at Rita's back. But she was too quick for such a barbaric attack. She turned so suddenly and, using the butt end of the shotgun, cracked Derek across his jaw, sending him sprawling to the floor in an instant state of unconsciousness.

Rita turned quickly back towards Mark, "You caused evil to be released into this world. You will pay for your indiscretion." She turned away towards the open door. "I'll deal with you and this heap of filth in just a moment," she said, switching her gaze between Mark and Derek, then disappeared through the backdoor and into the dark night.

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"This way, over here," he called. "Follow me, Robby. I'll keep you safe."

Robby had grown suspicious of Phillip. He knew that he must not really exist but struggled to believe that Phillip was only in his mind, an imaginary person who, somehow knew all about him and even told him things that he couldn't have known. And now he was sprinting out of his Gramma's house, answering the beckoning call of someone who no one believed was real except him.

Robby grabbed Phillip's extended hand and was quickly pulled into a thicket of shrubs and small trees. His heart was racing, and his breathing was heavy. Phillip turned to Robby, placed his index finger over Robby's lips to tell him to be quiet. When Phillip's finger touched his lips, Robby felt his heart slow to a normal beat and his breathing instantly calmed.

"I need you to stay quiet," Phillip said, winking quickly at Robby. "It will all be over in a minute."

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Rita saw Robby sprinting through the deep snow of her backyard, and she saw someone grab Robby and pull him out of sight. She couldn't recognize who it was but assumed it was someone working with the trooper and trying to set a trap for her. She slowed her charge as she neared the end of her backyard, and then she stepped cautiously onto the Marginal Way.
 

The storm coupled with the moonless night made it hard for Rita to see more than a few feet in front of her. She risked shielding her face from the driving snow with her left arm, knowing that doing so could cost her precious moments if she needed to fire another slug from her shotgun.
 

She moved through the thick snow, towards the top of a small hill. She had always loved this one spot of the Marginal Way. When she and Luke would bring Jack to the area, she would always insist that Luke and Jack pose for a picture on the very spot she was now approaching.

"This is the highest point on the Marginal Way," she would say every time. "It is a close to heaven as any other place in this world."

Luke and Jack would pose, some years willingly and some years, especially the final years of Luke's life, reluctantly. She never understood why the simple act of standing and smiling for a picture was such a chore, such an assumed violation, but she didn't bother to question her husband and her son. She had her expectations and was always determined to see her expectations met.

As she reached the crest of the slight hill, with the trees lining each side offering her a reprieve from the blinding snow, Rita quickly returned her arm to its proper position on the shotgun.

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There she was, no more than ten feet from him. He had waited so long, waited until his strength was enough to do what he so wanted to do. He knew that this day would come, and now that it was upon him. He wondered why he felt immobilized.

Wasn't it she who cast him into the world to which he was now confined? Wasn't it by her hands that he was made to choose one path or another, neither of which offered any promise of hope? Wasn't it this woman who made his other life so meaningless? He could find no reason to stay his hand, no reason not to end the threat she posed to the young boy who stood beside him.

But he knew that his action needed to be swift. He couldn't risk her seeing him, recognizing him and ending his attempt in a blink of an eye. Still, there was the young boy by his side. Certainly, he thought, his life is worth the risk.

He leaned silently towards Robby, patted him on the head and whispered, "Close your eyes." As he watched Robby close his eyes, he turned his gaze towards her. She was standing there, still, so close. He watched her survey the area around her, looking for her prey. He readied himself as she turned her back towards him.

Using more strength than he knew he possessed, he leaped from his hiding spot, arms and hands extended and stiffened. His lunge was certain, directed, and steady, as his hands, finding their one-time form, slammed into her back.

Rita's head snapped back from the tremendous shove, her arms sent flaying out to each side. She threw her right foot out in front of her body instinctively, hoping to capture her balance. That foot landed and slid on the ice beneath the heavy snow. The left foot, sent forward by instinct, landed a few feet further. Still, her balance avoided her. She felt herself falling forward much too fast to call upon her legs to repeat their steadying attempts. She couldn't turn to see what or who had caused her to lose her balance, yet, somehow, she recognized the touch as being familiar. They were hands that she felt pound against her back; of that she was sure. But whose hands? Who owned hands controlled by such an evil brain? There was only one. One person that flashed across her scrambled thoughts. But how?

She screamed in anger as she realized that her fall was not going to end quickly. She disappeared off the Marginal Way's path and fell in awkward plea towards the rocky coastline thirty feet below.

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He knew he didn't have time to verify that his actions were fully completed.