M Sellars - The Law Of Three

I knew I couldn’t waste any more time. The sentence had been pronounced, and there was very little ceremony left before he carried out the execution. I whipped my head around and made a snap decision, picking a direction to try, in hopes that it would lead to what I sought. I took a quick look down and to the side, scanning for obstacles before pushing completely away from the wall.

Light flashed behind me, and I heard scrambling footsteps as the SWAT team entered. A momentary swath of white luminance cut across the wall then along the floor in front of me before swinging in the opposite direction. I assume it had come from one of their flashlights, but the source was moot. While it had been dimmed by distance, it was still enough to give me what I needed.

Pure luck, magick, divine guidance of The Ancients. I had no idea what was responsible. All I knew was that had I not been looking in the exact spot at the exact instant the light passed over, I would have missed the stairwell through the opening just ahead of me.

“HE’S ON THE SECOND FLOOR!” I screamed aloud to the SWAT team as I leapt forward, aiming myself at the opening.

I couldn’t be sure if they heard me or even saw me. I didn’t think about it until later, but my sudden movement could very easily have gotten me shot. Whoever, or whatever, was watching over me was apparently still on the job.

I ran my shoulder into the wall and groped for anything I could use to steady myself. My fingers fell against something hard and ice cold. When I tightened my hand, I recognized what I was gripping to be a solid metal handrail.

I turned my face up and saw a faint yellow glow, telling me there was some form of light ahead.

The cramp that was seizing the muscle in my right leg was still impeding my motion to the best of its ability as it caused me to list to the side. I threw my left arm out and began pulling myself hand over hand as I struggled up the littered stairwell.

“…And having before us the Holy Gospels that our judgment may proceed as from the countenance of God…” Porter’s ominous voice was becoming louder with every step I took.

“…By this sentence we cast you away as an impenitent heretic and sorceress.”

“PORTER!” I screamed again as I strained to make my way up the stairs.

I caught my right foot on the edge of a crumbling step and slipped to the side. I quickly grabbed the handrail and corrected for the misstep before tumbling back down.

“In accordance with the thirty second question we do hereby deliver you unto the power of our most Holy God. As you, Millicent Renee Sullivan, are damned in body and soul, your sentence on this day is death.”

I was only a few steps from the top when I heard a metallic squeak pierce the night. It came as a slow, repetitious noise, fading then sharply breaking through once again. I was certain I could hear a whimpering sob behind it.

“The sentence, to be executed immediately and without appeal in the manner of hanging.”

The high-pitched squeal made a violent increase in cadence, sounding like metal spinning quickly against metal, all while in desperate need of lubrication. There was a creaking noise in its wake, and I heard a choking gurgle.

The muscle in my leg was beginning to untie, and I pushed hard, taking the last two steps at once. I arced myself out through the doorway at the top and out onto the creaking wooden floor.

The light of countless candles stationed about the large room created glowing pockets in the darkness that spread illumination in toward center. Porter was standing near the center of the space, staring directly at me. Next to him, swinging two feet above the floor was Star, partially nude and streaked with blood. The noose was tightening around her neck, and even at this distance, I could see her kicking and bucking her body against the constriction.

Porter’s solemn voice hit my ears with absolute clarity. “May the Lord Jesus Christ have mercy upon her soul.”

Whatever it was that I screamed, it was completely unintelligible, even to me. The sound was that of a madman-a banshee’s wail that froze blood solid even as it ran through veins. It was a cry that could only emanate from something not of this world.

I ran head on at him, striding harder than I believed myself capable and ignoring any pain or complaint my body elected to issue. My hot breath continued to expel in the tortured scream right up to the point where I slammed into him full force.

He had braced himself for the impact, but my momentum was more than he could bear. He folded over at the waist as I drove into him, and we both crashed to the floor in a tangle. I was at the top of the pile, and I pushed myself up with my left arm then brought my right over in a wide arc toward his face. He threw his own arm up and tried rolling to the side, which brought my fist slamming hard against the back of his shoulder. I pulled my hand back and drove it home once again as he moved, glancing downward along his back.

I pushed back and dragged myself up to my knees as he scrambled away from me. Rage was telling me to dive on him and continue punching. I was just about to give in to the anger when as I leaned back to launch myself, something thudded against the back of my head. I wheeled about in search of the unknown attacker, swinging my left arm out in a stiff arc.

Instead, I saw a pair of legs dangling in front of my face and heard the gurgling whimper of the young woman hanging above me. I got to my feet and looked up, frantically following the noose from around her neck up through the aged block and tackle, then back down to where it was tied off on a supporting column.

I rushed across to the column and began working my fingers into the knot. The nylon rope was twined about a large steel spike that had been driven deeply into the age-hardened wood. It was solid and had obviously been placed there long ago. I fought to loosen the tight braid, but her weight pulling back against it was making the task all put impossible.

Panic began to seize me once again, competing with the rage for control of my conscious self. I hooked my arm over the taut angle of the rope and pulled down, lifting her a pair of inches farther from the floor but gaining some slack on the knot. I hated doing it, but it was the only way I could think of to get the leverage I needed. Just as I began working the tangle loose, hot pain bit into my back, and I was forced hard against the upright beam.

Air expelled from my lungs, and my hands flailed away from the task. I felt the rope snap taut once again, and it flung my arm up like a catapult. A heavy fist, or so I thought, connected with my side. The punch was concentrated on a pinpoint and sent a lance of pain through my ribcage. I sucked in a quick breath as I was jerked backward, and I leaned into it, spinning myself in an arc with my right arm flailing upward and out ahead of me.

I connected with something both soft enough to qualify as flesh and hard enough to qualify as a skull. I stumbled through the spin and fell downward while holding my side. I landed on the plank floor with a heavy thud. My coat was seriously impeding my ability to move with any agility whatsoever as was the flak vest. I found myself wishing that I had gone ahead and removed them when I had the opportunity.

I looked up to see that my blow had rocked Porter backwards, but unfortunately, he was none the worse for wear and was now bearing down on me. The reason behind the extreme concentration of the strike to my ribs became immediately apparent when I saw the dim light flicker from the blade in his hand.

I tried to kick away as he literally fell on top of me, but I was too late. My mind flashed on the SWAT team downstairs, and I wondered why the hell they weren’t up here yet. Porter’s body pinned my legs, and for the first time, I saw his left hand gathered into a misshapen claw as he thudded it against me like a club. I jerked my head back just in time to see the knife arcing through the air above me, clutched tightly in his right hand.