Battle the Dark: Chapter 36

Blair sat up in the bed at the hotel and screamed.  Sister Rebecca Katherine, who was still deep in prayer, ran to her side.  "Easy, now, sweet one, what is it?"


"Oh my God," she cried, weeping terribly, "He's dying.  We have to go now.  Please!"


"Dear, dear, it was a dream.  It's not real.  You're safe, we're in Dublin.  You're at the Arlington.  Remember?"


She cried, barely able to speak.  "He's dying, Sister.  He's dying right now.  We have to go, please, we have to find him."


"Blair, calm down, now, you're getting too upset..."


"Stop it!  Let go of me!  He's dying, I need to go, now!"  She thrashed about, wildly.


The nun hauled back and slapped Blair on the right cheek.  "Listen to me, Blair!"  Blair stopped, and in her shock, she calmed.  Tears continued to flow, but silently and she focused her eyes on the nun's.  Sister Rebecca Katherine said, "I'm sorry for hitting ya, but you had to calm down before you hurt yourself."


"I'm sorry.  I just...he's dying, Sister.  I know he is.  I can feel it."  The nun did not argue, for she also had felt the same.  Something had come over her, during her prayer time, as it did when her brother Johnny was shot, years back.  It was a cold dread of a feeling, and she wanted it gone.  She had been praying the whole time Blair slept.  Blair added, "Where is he, oh please, God, where?"


The nun closed her eyes and said, "We should go into Rialto, perhaps something will come to us then."


Blair said, "What did Carlo say?  Something about Rialto and then a special place out of sight of the street."


"Janey Mack!  I believe I know where he is!  Get dressed, dear.  We must go now.  I'll call a taxi."


***


Todd opened his eyes and met the dead stare of his former handler.  He reached, slowly, and used his fingers to close Leona's eyes.  Still in the Grim Reaper robe, he was lying on his back, as Todd was, in a pool of coagulated blood.  His face was colorless.  Todd turned his head away, and thought back to the events of earlier.  Was it the same day?  Probably, but he couldn't be sure.  


He tried to move, and still couldn't.  The pain was searing, which meant infection, most likely, and he felt something wet on his side.  He reached with his good hand and felt blood, still warm, on his shirt.  He hadn't realized that during the tussle, he must have been stabbed, though he did not remember.  He was still bleeding.  That shortened his time, he was certain.  He'd have to get up and get out of there.


What was the last thing Leona had said to him?  He searched his memory.  "I'm sick, remember?"  He was.  He was so very sick.  But, he would not be finding any more victims, not now.  What else did he say?  Before he could get the answer, he passed out again.


Waking again, he opened his eyes, facing away from the body, and saw the half bottle of water and Leona's supply bag, still on the floor.  It was time to get to that bottle, so that he could save himself, at least for a while.  He knew he was fading, and having been close to death many times, he knew he was dying.  He attempted to roll onto his side.  It was too painful, with the inflamed bicep top the ground.  He would have to roll toward the body.  


He turned to his left, and got onto his left side.  Congratulations, Manning.  Peter would say, 'suck it up, you pansy' and push you until you did this.  He lay on the left side, the side that was bleeding at the rib, and waited a moment, facing the corpse.  He heard Leona's voice,  "You know what to do, at least with this.  Maybe not how to really get out of here."  


What did he mean by that?


He played it over a few times, foggy from his growing weakness, and suddenly came upon the answer.  I'm trapped.  He was the only one who knew how to work the sliding door.  I'm trapped in here, with him.  It's going to be our tomb.


***


In the taxi, Sister Rebecca Katherine rattled off the details of what she suspected.  "When I was a little girl, there was a theater in Rialto, The Rialto Cinemas.  We used to love to go there, and see the big stars on the screen.  There were catacombs underneath, a series of hidden tunnels, and we used to go and play in them after the theater closed."


"'A special place out of sight of the street,'" Blair repeated.


"Exactly, my dear.  Of course, it's a needle in a haystack, but we should call Timothy and the others and let them know, eh?"


"No.  They'll send us back to the hotel.  Please, Sister, I can't.  I have to be there when he's found.  I can't desert him this time."


The nun retreated, but Blair could tell she was not convinced.  The sister said, "For now, dear.  Until I can think of a way to convince them to allow us.  But you realize, we need them.  They have guns, and all we have is ourselves.  We're unprotected against very dangerous men."


Blair tapped the driver, "Where can I get a gun?"


***


He opened his eyes again.  Facing Leona's dead body, still on his side, he decided to try and sit up, and work his way, somehow, to the water bottle.  That was the first thing that might save his life, at least a bit longer.  Then, he looked up, and saw him.  A boy, about nine or ten, standing on the other side of what used to be The Slice and Dice.  He didn't speak.  Todd looked up at him, and said, "Can you help me?"


The boy said, "I don't know."


Todd said, "Who are you?"


The boy said, "I'm Raymond Thomas Manning.  And you left me."


Todd closed his eyes, and reopened them.  The boy was gone.  You're going fast Manning, you have to get out of here.  He bent his left arm to push him up off the ground, and could barely make it to a resting position.  His head spun and he reeled with dizziness.  I'm bleeding out.  Gotta stop that.  Push, let's go.  He used every ounce of strength he had, and succeeded in sitting directly up.  Holding his side, because now, in his awareness, it hurt terribly, he felt fresh blood.  He had to stop that, or he would surely die.  He decided to creep himself along, using his legs until he crossed the dirt floor, and got to the bag.  Then, he would deal with trying to get to the bathroom.  Baby steps, Manning.  He shook the thought of his son, growing up without him, a Manning tradition that he was trying to break, and forced himself, inch by inch across the ground.  


He could see he was getting closer, but also knew he was getting weaker, and felt certain he'd black out again, when he finally was able to reach his hand out and touch the water bottle.  Holding his bleeding side, he reached again to grab it, and watched helplessly as it toppled over and emptied onto the ground.  The dry dirt sucked the water in and Todd, overcome with the feeling of futility, lowered his head.  So is that what you do?  You just cry and give up?  No.  There's more water in here.  Over there, behind that rock.  That bathroom.  There is indoor plumbing and plenty of H2O.  Or do you want to die in here, with that corpse?  Just like with Victor...


He used his foot to bring the supply bag closer, first.  Maybe there was another bottle.  Leona usually brought two.  And maybe some food.  He pulled the bag by the strap toward him, using his foot.  His right arm, at the shoulder, was throbbing with pain, that he recognized as infection.  His right hand was hugging across his body, and holding his shirttail to his knife wound.  His left hand was supporting him to the sitting position, and he was able to reach to his knees and work the supply bag upward enough to grab it.  This was a relief to him, but the dark moved in, and he fell back, unconscious.


***


"We'll take these," Blair said.  She'd purchased a pearl-handle .22 for Sister Rebecca Katherine, and a 9mm for herself.  Hers was black and polished to a glossy shine.  They left the shop with a small bag full of ammo for both.  She dumped the latter into her purse.  She instructed the nun to place the little gun into her apron. 


"I'll never be able to use this, you know that, dear."  The nun said, "I don't believe in violence."


"The right hook queen?  I have a hard time believing that."


"A punch is different than a shot from a gun."


"Well, there you are right.  Believe me, it gets easier the more times you fire it."


"I wouldn't know how."


"It's all right, I'll teach you more about it as we go."  


The rest of the taxi ride to Rialto was a traffic-ridden expedition, with the two of them in the back of the car, Blair explaining how to fire a gun.  The driver occasionally looked at the two of them; a beautiful, leggy American and a gray-haired nun.  Rolling his eyes, he brought the car to a stop. 


"The Rialto," the nun said, looking up, "it's been years."


Blair paid the cab driver and they disembarked, and Sister Rebecca Katherine knew immediately where to go.  With one exception; the theater was closed to the public.  "Now what?"  Blair said, frustrated.


"It's simple dear.  We break in."


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