Tom Pawlik - Beckon

“Dwight, let us out of here. We’re running out of time.”

Dwight shone the light into George’s cell. “I’m sorry about Miriam. I’m sorry that you lost her.”

George’s voice took on a biting tone. “Oh, I’m sure you are.”

“Why didn’t she want to live here? Why would she do that?”

“Because she wasn’t afraid to die,” George said. “She would rather die than be a part of what you people are doing here, and she wanted to set me free. She…” His voice cracked. “She believed something better was waiting for her when she died.”

Dwight leaned closer to George’s window. “Do you?”

George was silent for a moment, then said, “I don’t know.”

“Dwight,” Jack said, “do you have the keys?”

Dwight held up a ring of keys. “He’ll kill me for this.”

“We’ll help you,” Jack said. “Just let us out of here.”

“He’ll kill me.” Dwight stared at the keys, though his gaze seemed unfocused. “He’ll get rid of me like he did with Amanda. He’s going to kill all of us sooner or later. Eventually we’ll all stop being useful to him.”

“Listen to me,” Jack persisted. “We can help you.”

“No, you can’t, Jack. No one can.” He turned back to George. “Do you think Miriam was right? Do you think there’s anything waiting for you when you die?”

“If there is a hell, I know you’ll be there. You and all the rest of the people in this town.”

Jack could see Dwight wavering in the darkness. Teetering on the brink between hope and despair. Struggling perhaps with a newfound conscience. A sense of moral doubt that had been buried too deeply and for too long but that now seemed to be reemerging. Jack tried to tip the balance further, even if he wasn’t quite sure of it himself.

“That’s not true, Dwight. There’s still hope.”

“No, there’s not. I’ve done terrible things.”

“I know it,” Jack said. “Horrible things. I don’t have all the answers, but I have to believe that God’s bigger than all that. I have to believe He can forgive you. That He wants to forgive you.”

“That’s what she thought too.” Dwight furrowed his brow and snorted. “But God left this town a long time ago.”

“No, He didn’t.” Jack felt his heart swelling now with courage. He could sense the tiniest spark of hope in this dungeon. Elina had ignited it in his heart almost without his knowing it. And now it was struggling to shine again right on the other side of his prison door. He just needed to coax it a little. To fan it into flame. “I used to think that way too, but maybe God’s here now. Right here in the darkness. Maybe it’s why He brought Elina here. To help you find Him. Now please, let us out so we can save her.”

Dwight blinked and looked down at the ring in his hands. His jaw clenched, and he slipped the key into the lock.

Jack pushed the door open with a rush of emotion flooding over him. He grabbed Dwight by the shoulders, wanting to hug the man there in the tunnel. “We have to free the others.”

They unlocked George’s cell and the one on the other side of Jack.

The young man who emerged from that cell was emaciated and filthy. He looked barely eighteen or nineteen and rail thin. His tattered clothes reeked. He was talking rapidly in Spanish. Jack handed him the keys and motioned for him to open the other cells.

George emerged from his cell as if in a daze. Jack could see he was an older man, maybe in his seventies. He was tall and perhaps at one time rather distinguished-looking, but now his face looked gaunt and gray as if worn out by sorrow. A large purple bruise puffed out on his upper cheek.

“We have to go after them,” Jack said to Dwight and George. He could hear the other cell doors opening, accompanied by yelps and hoots of relief.

Dwight was shaking his head. “You need weapons first. Frank has a gun.”

By now, the other kid had returned, out of breath and followed by six exhausted-looking Hispanic men. They were all speaking Spanish, and Jack couldn’t understand what they were saying.

He turned back to Dwight. “Where are the weapons?”

Dwight pointed up the tunnel. “Frank’s ex-military. He’s got an armory in the basement, right across from my lab.”

Jack looked at the group of Hispanic men. “Which one of you is Javier? Who’s Elina’s cousin?”

One of them stepped forward, the tallest of the group. His long black hair was matted and tangled.

“We have to save Elina,” Jack said.

Javier started to reply in Spanish, but Jack shook his head.

“Wait… uh, no… no habla es— ”

Dwight cut him off. “Han llevado a Elina a la cueva. Tenemos que ir por ella.”

Javier nodded excitedly. “Sí, vamos a prisa!”

They rushed through the tunnel and up the stairs into the basement of the lodge. All of them shielded their eyes from the fluorescent lights and moved out into the corridor.

“Here,” Dwight said. He stopped at the door across from his lab and fumbled with the keys. “It’s this one.”

All of the prisoners with the exception of Javier scurried past them toward the stairs.

“Hey, wait! Hold up,” Dwight called after them. “Espera, espera!”

But they ignored him, obviously too relieved to be free.

Dwight looked at Jack and George. “We have to stop them. The others are still upstairs. If they find out what’s going on…”

George’s eyes took on an icy glare. “I’ll take care of them; you guys go after the girl.”

Dwight unlocked the door and opened it into a small room with gun racks on the walls and a shelving unit crammed with boxes of ammunition. They snatched weapons and ammo in a mad flurry. Jack found a rack of shotguns.

He tossed one to George along with a box of shells. “Guard the entrance. Make sure none of them come after us.”

George nodded and headed up the hall, loading the shells as he went.

Dwight was busy loading the other shotguns. He slung one over his shoulder and handed another to Jack. Jack looked it over, familiarizing himself with the weapon. He had fired a gun a few times on a target range, but he’d never used one in any kind of violent action.

“Point and pull.” Dwight tapped the barrel. “Just don’t point it at me.” He gave one to Javier as well and rattled off some instructions in Spanish.

Jack spotted a box of flares on one of the lower shelves. He grabbed a handful and shoved them into a canvas bag.

Meanwhile Dwight had loaded a pair of .45 revolvers; he shoved one in his belt and held the other ready. Inside of three minutes they were loaded and ready for war.

Dwight stopped on his way out the door. “Hold on.”

He grabbed a couple items off one of the shelves and showed them to Jack—small, black metallic spheres with handles on one side.

Jack’s eyebrows went up. “Grenades? He’s got hand grenades too?”

Dwight shrugged. “Like I said, Frank’s ex-military.”

Jack glanced back along the corridor where George had disappeared up the stairs. Then he turned and followed Dwight and Javier through the storage closet and down into the tunnel.

Elina struggled against the ropes, but they were far too tight. Obviously these guys had done this before and knew the best ways to subdue and transport their prisoners. They had gagged her as well.

They carried her out of the cell and down into the darkness of the tunnel. There was no more lighting and no stairs carved beyond this point, so the two men moved slowly through the rough passage, lugging her between them. Vale stayed in the lead with the flashlight.

They carried her for nearly ten minutes, descending deeper into the cave until they came at last into a larger chamber. They set her down on the ground, a cold mixture of pebbles and mud. Elina watched her two bearers step back while Vale moved forward to a section of the wall where Elina could see what looked like wooden timbers. Another doorway built into the rock.