Marker of Faith

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 26

They sat on the floor in a tight group. Milky patches of moonlight glowed through small holes in the ceiling, illuminating the tired and terrified men like spotlights. Except for an occasional creak of the roof from a night breeze through the loose shingles, the cottage was silent. No one wanted to talk. There wasn't much any of them wanted to say about what happened over the last few days, especially Lem's grisly departure. Talking about it would only make it more real, and none of them was ready to have a slice of that particular pie just yet. Roddy finally calmed down once he was inside the cottage. He was sitting with his back against the wall, absent-mindedly fingering a silver crucifix around his neck as he stared at the closed door.

Rattle changed back into his own clothes, the blood stained motel robe rolled into a ball and tossed out the front door. He was sitting on the floor with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped tightly in front of him. He looked like he was praying, but he wasn't. He was staring at John hunched against a milk crate in the corner. The weary detective noticed he was being watched and looked up.

"What?"

"You look beat," Rattle answered.

"Yeah, you should catch some shut eye," Roddy added quietly.

"I'm fine," John snapped, but he didn't feel fine. He felt raw and angry and empty inside. Roddy was right. No place felt safe anymore.

"Five-oh, you don't look so fine." Rattle smiled hesitantly and rubbed his eyes. "We've got your back, curl up and cop a snooze. We'll take turns."

John was suddenly fatigued, Rattle's words acting on him like some post hypnotic suggestion, and he yawned. How long had it been since he'd had any real sleep? He'd cat napped at the station, but no deep sleep for two or three days. Every time he'd tried to close his eyes, Dave's face filled his mind. It seemed now that he was too tired to fight it any longer.

"Maybe you're right," he said begrudgingly.

I am dead on my feet, he thought, rolling his shoulders until he heard a satisfying series of cracks from his upper back. "I could use an hour."

"Take two, they're small," Roddy quipped.

Before he could say anything else, John slumped over, exhaustion literally sapping his strength. He panicked briefly; he felt drugged. His eyes fluttered as he fought against the feeling, but it was a losing battle. He slipped into darkness, sinking into sleep as the terror and sadness of the last two days receded into his dreams.

∞

John was floating. He wasn't cold, but he wasn't warm either. His body felt lighter than air, and he looked down at his surroundings in a daze. There was nothingness all around him; a foggy and gray, empty world.

Nothingness?

"Yes...." The answer came from somewhere in the haze around him. John tensed as he recognized that voice with its slow Louisiana drawl.

"Dave?" John's voice echoed as he craned his neck to look for his friend.

"Right here, man." There was a cold pressure on his shoulder and he knew it was Dave.

Am I dead, too?

"Where are we?" John asked.

"Nothingness, just like I said."

"Am I...." He hesitated. "Dead?"

"Naw, brother. I just needed to see you was all."

John just floated, letting the moment sink in. "It's good to see you, bro."