M Sellars - The Law Of Three

I’m still not entirely certain which event in the quartet came first: me hitting the asphalt, the intense flash of light, the wildly screeching siren, or the deafening explosion. In retrospect, it didn’t really matter; they were all so close together that for all intents and purposes, they were one and the same.

The cell phone popped out of my hand and skittered a few feet away on the street as I rolled. Chaos was the only word I could use to describe the scene before me as everyone’s attention was directed away from the building. On the tiered parking lot above us, a squad car was warbling out every emergency tone in its arsenal of noises. Every source of illumination on the vehicle, from light bar to headlights, was flashing. The windshield was a shattered maze, and the driver’s side windows were completely missing. Smoke was rolling upward from the openings, and an orange glow was filling the passenger cabin.

I had absolutely no idea what had happened. My mind was paging through scenarios, attempting to wedge the few available pieces of the puzzle into place, but every picture I imagined seemed far from likely.

I scrambled across the slush for the cell phone and placed the wet device against my ear as soon as I clamped my hand on it. Though I had to strain to hear him over the background insanity, Porter’s voice was still bleeding from the earpiece with ominous portent, “…Have refused the medicine of your salvation, we have summoned…”

“NO!” I screamed.

I dragged myself up to my feet and wheeled around, looking for the federal agent who was supposed to be posted outside the van but found no one. All attention was still focused on the bedlam surrounding the patrol car. I wheeled around, looking for anyone I could but again found not a soul anywhere nearby. Everyone seemed to be converging on the raucous patrol car.

“…away and seduced by a wicked spirit…” Porter continued.

I had heard these very words from him before, and I knew them well. The recitation was an official proclamation of Star’s guilt and final sentence. He would be following immediately with her execution. Even with the pomp and circumstance of the pronouncement, there would be no time to wait. He had already begun; she was going to be dead in less than a minute.

The dark, prophetic sensation that had been plaguing me was now a set of icy fingers clawing at my throat. I felt myself moving forward with deliberate intent. The doorway of the building seemed an almost unattainable objective in the distance, but it loomed clear in my sight, beckoning me.

By the time I took my fifth step, I was at a dead run.

“MISTER GANT!” I heard Agent Kavanaugh’s voice in the distance behind me, but I didn’t stop.

Figures I had not previously noticed were now coming out of the shadows as I barreled through the SWAT perimeter. These men had been the only ones not completely diverted from their mission by the insanity on the parking lot above. Still, they were staged at a distance from the entrance and focused on impending entry into the building. Whether by pure luck, the situation, or fate alone, I was yards ahead before I began to hear their shouts.

“GODDDAMIT, ROWAN!” I picked out Ben’s voice bellowing from within the jumble of others that were ordering me to stop.

My cell phone flew from my hand as my arms pumped in unison with my legs. I was starting to wheeze as cold air rushed in and out of my lungs. I wasn’t in the best of shape to begin with, but the bulk of the flak vest and my coat weren’t helping either.

My knees were complaining, and a sharp chill was biting into my leg where my pants had soaked up wetness from the slush on the street. I ignored the pains that were vying for attention throughout my body and pushed myself forward. I could hear the clamor of footsteps behind me and felt a momentary wave of relief. I couldn’t stop to tell anyone what was happening, but if they followed me in, that would be good enough.

I launched myself over the low curb and on my first stride was across the narrow sidewalk. With far more agility than I had displayed exiting the van, I hit the low stairs and propelled myself past two of the three and directly onto the landing. I threw a forearm up in front of my face and allowed the inertia I had built up to coil into my body as I hit the door.

The barrier was already unlatched, and the force with which I struck caused it to fling wide, impact an interior wall, then bounce back. I thrust my arm out to the side and caught the door before it could hammer back into my face then drove inward through the darkness.

I was already several steps into the building before I began to slow. I could hear a gathering commotion through the door behind me, but thus far I was the only one who had entered. Part of me wanted to wait for the SWAT team to catch up, but I knew that there was no time.

My labored breaths were grating in my ears and sending cold stabs through my chest. My heart was thumping out of control, and I could feel my right leg beginning to cramp. I winced at the pain and stumbled as I wandered through the dark interior.

Some small amount of light was streaming in from the door to my rear, but “small amount” was the operative phrase. It did little to illuminate the interior much beyond the first few feet. Porter had said second floor, but I had no idea how this building was laid out. Not to mention that it had been abandoned for Goddess knows how long.

Piles of unidentifiable debris announced themselves solely by feel as I thumped against and tripped over them. The one thing I could say for certain was that several of them were very hard.

My eyes were finally beginning to adjust to the darkness but not quickly enough for the given situation. I had no idea where the stairs were in this structure, and I still couldn’t see enough to find them. My throat began to constrict, and my chest felt tight as a wave of panic washed over me. I could hear the blood begin to rush in my ears and fear commenced stabbing me in the back with repeated thrusts of gelid anxiety.

“…Therefore, following in the footsteps of the blessed Apostle Paul…” Porter’s voice came to me as a distant echo.

I swallowed hard against the constriction in my throat and pushed forward, staggering through the darkness with my hands waving blindly in front of me. It took one half dozen steps and something hard biting into my shin before I careened into a cold wall.

The cramp in my leg blossomed, twisting the muscle down the back of my calf into a secure knot. Fiery agony shot through the appendage as my knee automatically bent in an attempt to hide from the onslaught.

I caught my breath and grunted as I fought to ignore the pain. I pushed myself away from the wall but left one hand against it for support as I limped along.

“PORTER! YOU SONOFABITCH!” I screamed.

My words glanced from the walls of the empty building, fading away on the heels of a sharp echo. An almost solemn silence followed the last audible reproduction of my voice, then after a measured beat, his voice began again.

“Millicent Renee Sullivan. By this our definitive sentence we drive you from the ecclesiastical court, and abandon you to…”

I had no idea exactly how long I had been in the building at this point. I assumed, however, based on his cadence and the words spoken, that it had only been a matter of seconds. My eyes had adjusted enough that I could now make out murky shapes but not much more. I twisted in place, looking frantically for a direction to go.

“…Secular court, that having you in its power now moderates its sentence of death against you…”

The echo of Porter’s voice bounced around the building, repeating itself into silence. I tried to follow the sound and found myself spinning in a confused circle, knowing only that it was coming from above.