Battle the Dark: Chapter 37

"Blair."  He said, holding his hand out to her.  She walked toward him to take it.  "Blair, help me, I'm dying."


"I will, Todd, I will help you."  He waited to feel her cool hands on his feverish forehead, but they never came.  


He opened his eyes, and she was gone.  Back on his back, he struggled to push himself up to sitting again.  Leona's supply bag was between his knees.  He reached for it, and grabbing just a hair of the material, he was able to pull it toward him.  He winced as it put pressure on his rib wound.  Using his hand as his eyes, he went through the bag, finding nothing but a gun, ammunition, and a piece of bread crust that must have been leftover from a sandwich.  He ate it immediately, not thinking about why or where it had come from.  His hand continued to search the bag, and he brought out gauze and antibiotic ointment.  "Everything your local Slice and Dice needs," he said aloud.  Dressing his own wounds would have to be for later.  Right now, he needed water.


"Get up, Todd.  You have to get up, and walk.  The water's over there.  Don't zone out on me now, okay?"  Blair's voice was in his ears.  He looked for her, but she was nowhere in sight.  


Manning, you're hallucinating, don't you know that?  You're imagining things.  She's not here. You might never see her again.  And with that thought, he pushed himself through the pain to a sitting position once again and lowered his head and cried.  It took so long to get back to her.  I can't give up now.  The kids.  The baby.  I promised to be there for him.  He pulled himself together and got ready for what was next.  How would he stand up without anything to support his weight?


***


Timothy had received information from his contacts about four locations in Rialto that might be where Todd was held and The Men of 21 were hiding.  They had already been through one of them.  "Closer than nothing.  What about the FBI, McBain?"  Shaun asked.


"They'll call when they have something and a team is en route.  At least we know we're on the right track."  John said.  They were a bit dirty and disheveled from exploring the first set of catacombs.  "So much for Christ Church.  Nothing."


"What's next?"  Timothy asked.


"St. Patrick's Cathedral, The Rialto Cinemas, and the fourth one, this map says, has been closed off for thirty years."  John said.


"Which of those two next?"  Shaun asked,  "Should we split up and try both?"


"Splitting up would leave one of us alone.  No, we go it together."  McBain ordered, and the rest was left to a coin toss.

"Ask yourselves, which of these would The Men of 21 prefer as the hideout?  A nostalgic movie house or a place of judgement and God's wrath?"  Timothy offered.


John and Shaun both chimed, "The theater."


"Then let's give it a try."


With the traffic, it took them a while to get a taxi, and soon, they were on their way to The Rialto Cinemas.


***


"Give me one more little push," Blair said, hanging out of a small side window, with Sister Rebecca Katherine below, attempting to hoist her into the building.  The nun, nervously looked around for police, but realized at the same time, that Ireland was much different than the U.S. where police and law enforcement were concerned.  Blair was able to drop into the room within the next few minutes, and went to the front door and opened it from inside to let Sister Rebecca Katherine in.  No horns, no alarms, no sirens.  Just the two of them, in an aging film house.


"All right, Sister, where to?"


"Let's go into the main theater, we used to be able to access the tunnels from there.  I know just the place!"


Following the nun, Blair took in her surroundings, but instead of giving attention to them, her mind was in one place.  Todd.  He was dying; she knew it in her heart.  He did not have a great deal of time.  She put her hand, absently, on the 9mm in the waistband of the back of her pants, covered by the tail of her summer blazer.  The nun lead the way, and finally, they were at a small door, the size of a small child, that she said was the passageway.  "Here it is.  Let's hope we can fit through it."


With a bit of finagling, the two of them were through the door, and headed through some passages, still walled with plaster, as if finished, and later, with rock.  "We're getting into the catacombs now," the nun called, "Good thing I remembered to buy these flashlights at that gun shop, or we would be in trouble and good."


The dank and dark feel of the channels made Blair's skin crawl.  "My God," she said, "He's in here somewhere."


"It's all right, I've been through them lots of times, and I have a sharp memory for an old lady.  Just follow me."


Within a few moments, they had a choice to make, as a fork appeared in front of them.  "Which side, Sister?"  Blair asked.


"I don't know, it's a 50-50 guess.  I'll ask the Lord to guide us and hope for the best.  Let's go to the right."  They proceeded along more corridors of stone, and it became more damp and musty as they went.  


After walking for the better part of an hour, Blair sat against a rocky ledge.  "We're not getting anywhere.  Should we turn back and try the other way?"


"We might, but we also can finish this side.  That way we'll know we covered all of it."


"There's more?"


"Oh heavens yes, much more."  She looked around.  "My goodness, it has been such a long time.  We used to play in these."


"Wasn't it dangerous?"


"Parents in my day worried much less about danger, for some reason.  I suppose it was.  Johnny, Timothy and I would play in these tunnels for hours."


"Johnny.  Another brother?"


"Yes.  He was murdered, years ago."


"I'm sorry, Sister."


"Thank you, dear.  Well, enough with this sentimental jibjab, we must continue on.  Are you all right, dear?"


"Yes, I'm fine, just worried, is all."


"Let's push on then."


***


Todd opened his eyes, and became aware that he had again passed out.  He was, once more, on his back on the cool dirt floor.  He could tell he had a fever, and began to gear up for his next bout with getting to a standing position.


He had seen her again, for some reason, in her wedding gown from their third wedding; the one he had purchased for her, with the gold accents on white.  It was the night he also brought Jack back to her, thinking, somehow, he could cover his actions by bringing him home.  When she appeared, she was so perfectly beautiful, his eyes had welled up.  He repeated her words aloud, "Come back to us, Todd."


"All right, that's what I'm trying to do."  He said, turning left, and gathering the strength to make the next push.  But this time, when he turned left, he faced men's boots, and slacks, and when he raised his eyes, he knew he must be seeing things again.  A man stood, very tall, over him. 


"Well, if it isn't Todd Manning.  The odds are like finding a four leaf clover in a field."


He recognized the voice.  That stupid Mick.  Why him?  Come on, Manning, bring back Blair, at least.


"I don't want to hallucinate you, now get out of my way.  You're the last face I'd want to be the last face I see."


"You're not hallucinating.  Don't ask me what kind of Gods blessed this reunion, because I can't think of even one."  A large hand came toward him, offering help.


He wanted to take it, but couldn't.  Aside from the fact that he knew, if he did, the hand would disappear anyway, as soon as he touched it.  Just like Blair's, in his imagination.  He stared at the hand, on his left side, still seeping blood, his back and shoulder paining him and his fever burning.  "I can't, and you're not real anyway."


The man crouched down, and Todd turned his face up toward him.  "No, not you.  It can't be."


"Yes, it's me, now stop your bellyachin' and get up off that ground."


"I can't.  I can barely move."


"All right, I'll help ya, but ya have to help me with it.  Push yourself up when I give you the heave."


"All right," he said, "and now I'm talking to a mirage."


"One, two, three."  Both men pushed, and soon, Todd was standing, face to face, in the supportive arms of none other than Patrick Thornhart.


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