Chapter 11 - Into the Darkness
Lee's adrenaline rush dissipated quickly as he retreated into the dark cover of the sleeping Arlington neighborhood. He shivered violently, his pitiful attire woefully inadequate in the raw drizzle that seeped into his pores. At least a dense fog swallowed his hunched frame, offering him a veil of anonymity.
"Lee, answer me," called the raspy voice of Amanda. Doggedly pursuing him, she repeatedly shouted his name.
Forced to weave in and out among the neat suburban houses, he maneuvered through tall shrubs and behind garages to elude his fantasy wife and their so-called colleagues. If he wasn't so distraught, he would take pride in his clever evasive tactics.
Lee had barely limped three blocks when a pick-up truck screeched to a stop at the end of Maplewood Drive. The driver stuck his weathered face out an open window. "Need a lift, bub?"
"Yeah, I'm game." What the hell, he didn't have the faintest notion where to go. At least now he had a chance to escape Amanda's community before her body guards jumped him again.
Opening the passenger side door, Lee nodded at his rescuers. "Thanks for the ride. It's not a fit night for man or beast."
"You bet," the driver said, proffering his right hand. "I'm Clyde. My sick-kick is Rocky."
"I'm Leroy," Lee supplied as he accepted the callous handshake.
The brawny Rocky grunted a greeting and then shot his partner a sly look.
Lee studied the rough-hewn pair as a seed of doubt took root in his brain. "Ah, where are you headed?"
"Going west to Winchester," Clyde answered as he chewed a wad of tobacco.
"It sounds good to me. Wake me when we get there." Too exhausted to care, Lee slouched in the seat and rubbed the gooseflesh of his bare arms.
Rocky poked an elbow into Lee's side and offered a gap tooth smirk. "I think you missed the hospital by a few miles, buddy."
"What?"
"The duds, man. Were you headed for surgery or did you escape from the mental ward of a hospital?"
Lee swallowed hard. Great, this bruiser was going to give him the third degree. "Oh, you mean the scrubs. I just finished the graveyard shift."
"Were you planning to walk to Winchester?"
"No," Lee growled. "The wife threw me out. I don't give a damn where I go."
The driver threw his head back and laughed. "Consider yourself lucky; at least you escaped with the clothes on your back."
"You got that right." Lee closed his eyes, hoping the conversation was over. His head was pounding, his vision was blurry, and his stomach was doing somersaults. Whatever possessed him to leave the hospital?
As the truck roared along the highway, Lee tried to make sense of his encounter with Amanda. How could he have misjudged their relationship? They weren't married or even engaged. In fact, the one person he trusted tried to have him forcibly removed from the house - her house, not his. She couldn't have been clearer. He didn't belong there. Well, dammit, where did he belong?
My God, now he was venturing into yet another unknown. Before the night was over, his coarse companions may lead him farther astray. Cognizant of his limited options, he gave into his crippling fatigue and lapsed into a nightmarish sleep.
His head was still lolling against the back of the seat when the truck rolled to a jolting stop. Snapping to attention, he braced for the next bombshell.
"End of the line," the driver called as he leaped from the vehicle. Scooting off the seat, Rocky trailed his companion through the same door.
Unmoving, Lee tried to get his bearings. "God, what happens now?"
Suddenly the passenger side door was pulled open and two pairs of arms grabbed his body. Before he could protest, he found himself unceremoniously yanked to the ground.
"Nice to see you again, Simpson," a vaguely familiar voice greeted him. "You're just in time for the Bible lessons."
"What Bible lessons?" Lee asked, knowing full-well there was nothing remotely spiritual about their actions. My God, he'd walked right into a trap. Apparently Amanda had been trying to offer him protection. Someone must have tracked him to her house and then offered him a ride. Now he had to wonder if she was in trouble, too. What kind of dangerous game were they playing? Whatever it was, he was sure Amanda was his loyal teammate. At the very least, she was his friend. He'd bet his life on it.
"Come on, Leroy, you have a date with the Bible study committee."
Captivity
The steady patter of raindrops beat against the darkened window glass, slowly pulling Lee back to consciousness. Somewhere in the damp basement, water splattered against the concrete floor, adding more misery to the already dismal surroundings. He had no idea how long he'd been here or if it was day or night.
Lying on a sagging cot, Lee threw off the threadbare blanket and unwound his body from the fetal position. His teeth chattered from the bone chilling cold as he rubbed his exposed arms.
His bleak cell reeked of vomit, a dreadful reminder of his stomach's rebellion against the wretched food he'd been forced to consume upon his arrival. Even the thought of eating was enough to make his throat spasm with dry heaves.
My God, what was going on? Did he still have one coherent thought left in his head? Pulling himself to his numb feet, he wobbled on shaky legs toward the constant drip, drip, drip he heard splattering on the basement floor. His painstaking movements were rewarded with a bruising thud as he bumped into the door. Patting down the wooden barrier, he found the handle and confirmed the obvious - it was locked.
With a sigh, he leaned his head against the wire mesh of the door's tiny window. Now what? At the risk of alerting his captors, should he try to make contact with others who may be imprisoned? He'd already heard shrieks and moans coming from an upstairs room, just before he'd been brutally shoved down the basement stairs.
Finally he took the risk and called into the black void. "Is anyone there?"
"Hello," a shaky female voice called back. "Who are you?"
"I'm Leroy Simpson."
"Oh, Lee, it is you." The mystery voice held a faint inflection of hope.
"Do I know you?"
"It's Aggie," she responded, her voice growing stronger. "Don't tell me you've forgotten me already."
"Not entirely," he said as he ran a hand through his matted hair. "I've been drugged to the gills, so you'll need to fill me in on the details. Why are we here?"
"We met at a revival. I was snooping around the campgrounds while you were investigating Reverend Jeremiah Armstrong and his associates."
"Investigating?" Lee shook his head, trying to shake off his stupor. Maybe that explained his ability to escape the hospital. Possibly he'd been trained in police work. "Am I a detective?" he asked, guessing at his occupation.
"I can't say for sure," Aggie continued. "You were very secretive about your employment."
The revelation baffled him. Rubbing the back of his neck, he dismissed the wild notion that flashed through his mind. Certainly he wasn't a spy. "So you think I do some kind of undercover work?"
"Do you mean undercover or under the covers?" she asked with a faint note of levity in her voice.
Surprised by her innuendo, he wondered if they were romantically involved. God, he hoped he hadn't cheated on Amanda, but, then again, how does one cheat in a strictly platonic relationship? "Aggie, are we involved with each other - you know, as in dating?"
"No, Lee, we're not. I employed some harmless flirting, but you stuck to business. Maybe you prefer younger women."
"Hell, Aggie, as I recall, you're an attractive lady. And who cares about age? At the moment, I can't tell you when I was born."
"Well, that's good to know," she said with a sigh. "I'll save that thought for a better day. Although, to be truthful, I suspect there's someone special in your life."
"Humph," he snorted, recalling his ill-conceived ideas about Amanda and marriage. "Look, Aggie, my love life is a moot point at this juncture. I need to know what we're up against."
"I can tell you with certainty that our captors are some kind of religious extremists." Despite her feigned calm, Aggie's voice quivered with fear. "They want to hasten the end times."
"The end of what?"
"Civilization as we know it." The words rolled off her tongue like a bitter pill. "Some extremists think they can enable God to usher in a new age of righteousness if they annihilate nonbelievers."
"So, you're saying we're doomed if we don't accept their particular set of beliefs?"
"Exactly," Aggie said. "They see themselves as God's righteous soldiers who must convert who they can and abolish the unrepentant sinners. Apparently the United States government is high on their list, especially the politicians who espouse political views contrary to their own."
"My God," Lee said, exhaling a shaky breath. "You make it sound like they're willing to commit mass murder and bring down the government."
"Yes," she choked, "even if it means they have to sacrifice others for the sake of the expected reign of God on earth."
Lee shook his head at the madness. "How do you know all this, Aggie?"
"I suppose it's just an educated guess," she said with a jaded laugh. "Before you arrived to investigate the revival, I'd been listening to Jeremiah Armstrong's apocalyptic sermons for days. I was convinced he or his staff had tried to kill my Aunt Hattie when she challenged their cataclysmic predictions. In truth, I'm not sure whether to blame the preacher, his handlers, or all of them. While the manic Jeremiah was full of bluster, his support team used brute force. His thugs kidnapped both of us."
Lee leaned his weary body against the door, struggling to comprehend the insanity of religious violence. "So, if we were caught probing their operation, why haven't they killed us?"
For a long moment, only Aggie's harsh breathing penetrated the blackness of their prison. "I don't know," she finally said, her raspy voice filling the chasm between them. "I'm afraid the preacher's associates are using some kind of mind control to force innocents to carry out their unique version of an apocalyptic mission."
Pressing his fingers against the bridge of his nose, Lee tried to ease the throbbing of his head. "What about you? Your memories seem clear."
"Oh, Lee," she said, her voice sounding desperate. "I wish my memory had vanished. The interrogation crew tried to inundate my mind with horrible images and messages, but I fainted before they accomplished their goal. Now I sit in terror, waiting for them to try again and eventually use me for their demented purposes."
Outraged, Lee balled his hands into fists as he helplessly listened to her soft crying. "Take it easy, take it easy. There has to be a way out of this hellhole."
Suddenly, the sound of footsteps interrupted their private exchange.
"What the hell's going on down here," a masculine voice bellowed. A hulking figure moved toward them as the high beam of a flashlight cast weird shadows along the walls of the dungeon.
Hearing a key in the lock, Lee stepped back, waiting for the door to open. He braced himself against the cell wall, wondering what deadly torment lay in store for him.
"It's time for Bible study, Simpson. Say goodbye to your lady friend." A rough hand grabbed his arm and jerked him through the opening.
"Hang on, Aggie," Lee whispered as he passed her cell. "Somehow, we'll get out of this mess."
"Don't count on it, Mac," the jailer snarled as he jammed the barrel of gun in Lee's back. "When we're through turning your mind inside out, you won't have a coherent thought left in your head."
"I'll say a prayer for you, Lee," Aggie cried as they headed up the stairs.
"Thanks," he called into the darkness. "I'm going to need it."
Indoctrination
"The end is near for the decadent society. The Lord's faithful soldiers will usher in the New Age of Righteousness."
The instructor's monotone droned on with mind numbing madness. The repetitious words blocked any capacity for Lee to think for himself. Awareness of his surroundings paled in comparison to the rhetoric of apocalyptic language.
He sat mesmerized while video images of destruction paraded before his eyes. Calmly he categorized the locations ear marked for demolition: the Capitol, the Lincoln Memorial, the Washington Monument, the Jefferson Memorial. On and on, familiar landmarks were blown up before his eyes.
Oddly insulated from the terror, his ability to discern right from wrong seemed to be slipping away. He was trying to fight the gruesome messages, but his resistance was wearing down.
"Maplewood Drive," he whispered in a voice choked with emotion. It was one of his few lucid thoughts, and he clung to the words like a lifeline. Mercifully, his mind wandered to the fleeting memory of tree-lined sidewalks, white picket fences, and a tall brunette housewife. The vision of Amanda's sweet face was the one guiding force left in his narrowing reality.
Shaking his head at the fading hallucination, he wondered who he was kidding. Without knowledge of his past and without Amanda by his side, he had no moral compass to reason beyond the devastation that threatened to control his mind.
Even so, some small part of him tenaciously fought the power of indoctrination. "No," he yelled in defiance, his eyes lowering from the visual calamity. His whole body tensed against the restraints that bound him to a chair.
"Oomph . . ." The wind was knocked from his lungs with a powerful blow to his torso. A sudden jolt of electrical current coursed through his body. The attack left him trembling uncontrollably.
"Repeat it again, Simpson," a harsh voice admonished. Someone grabbed his hair and yanked his head backward. "I . . . Am . . . A . . . Soldier . . . of . . . The . . . Lord."
"I . . . am . . . a . . . soldier . . . of . . . the . . . Lord," he mumbled in response.
"Say it louder."
"I . . am . . A . . . soldier . . . of . . . The . . . Lord." Lee felt his stubborn resolve slipping away as the words rasped through his raw throat.
He couldn't take much more of the abuse. His head throbbed relentlessly, and his sore ribs made it difficult to breath.
Hour after hour, his world was reduced to damning words and images. Pay attention, he remembered, or you'll be tortured again. Focus now or regret the consequences. Centering his thoughts, he concentrated until everything else was pushed from his mind.
Agency
Wringing her hands in perpetual motion, Amanda wore a path across the section chief's office. "Sir, if you allow me to attend the revival tonight, I may be able to find Lee."
"Please, Amanda - just sit." Billy gestured toward a chair. "You're picking up Scarecrow's bad habits."
"Yes, sir, I'm sorry, sir." Clasping her hands together in her lap, Amanda tried to quell her anxiety. She'd been restless since Lee's disappearance, so doing nothing was not an acceptable option.
A brief knock on the door signaled the arrival of Francine Desmond. "Any word on Lee yet?"
"No, there's nothing." Billy meticulously closed the blinds as his team waited for an update. "I've been with the Agency director for the past hour," he said, keeping his tone neutral. "Dr. Smyth had a few choice words about field section's failure to secure Scarecrow. He's ready to take drastic action."
Startled by the news, Francine's eyebrows disappeared behind her golden bangs. "I hope you don't mean what I think you mean. "
"I'm afraid so," Melrose said, his dark eyes clouded with his own personal agony.
With alarm gnawing in the pit of her stomach, Amanda looked from one to the other. "Sir, why are you both afraid for Lee?"
"Isn't it obvious, even to you?" Francine's biting tone cut to the core, leaving no doubt as to where she assigned the blame for Lee's disappearance.
The message hit home for Amanda. "Oh, no."
In an effort to soften the blow, Billy placed a hand on Amanda's shoulder. "Something big is about to come down on this city, and we have a whacked-out agent loose on the streets. In his present state of mind, Stetson places the nation at great risk. "Given the circumstances, Dr. Smyth has no choice but to launch a full scale manhunt for Scarecrow. Lee has moved to the top of our most wanted list, dead or alive."
Appalled by Dr. Smyth's extreme order, Amanda rushed to her partner's defense. "But, sir," she protested. "Lee's not really a threat. Until I told him otherwise, he thought he was a suburban husband and father. Just a few hours ago he was raving about John Denver music and little league baseball games. He's not looking for trouble."
Francine rolled her eyes. "God save us from a domesticated Scarecrow. Now I really am frightened."
"Francine, please." Billy silenced his assistant with a scathing look and then turned his attention back to Amanda. "Mrs. King, when Lee is involved, you find it hard to be objective. Despite his weakened state, he packs a lethal punch. Lee not only escaped from the hospital, but he overwhelmed Fielder and Duffy. Dr. Smyth has a duty to stop Scarecrow by any means necessary."
Shocked that the Agency would turn on its best agent, Amanda's outrage poured from her mouth. "Lee overpowered the other agents, because he felt trapped," she defended. "He didn't do anything wrong but run for his life. Why am I the only one left standing in Lee Stetson's corner?"
Billy raised his hands, signaling for calm. "Yes, Scarecrow felt trapped, and like a trapped animal, he's very dangerous. The loss of his memory didn't erase the skills Lee has honed over years of experience. The very prowess he uses to protect the United States can now be turned against the nation."
Amanda took a shuddering breath, bringing her emotions under control. "I would hope that whoever finds Lee will try to talk him back inside."
"That's my hope, too." Billy sank to the sofa, the endless hours of worry evidenced by the slump of his shoulders. "As long as Lee doesn't turn into a runner or use a weapon, our agents will try to throw a net around him."
Francine's anger was palpable. When their boss finished speaking, she pounced. "Amanda, where was your concern for your partner last night? If you'd made accommodations in your home, instead of scaring Lee off, he'd be sitting here right now."
"I did not scare Lee off," Amanda defended, bristling at the indictment. "Fred and Frank botched their end of the plan." Glaring at her accuser, she silently second-guessed her squeamish sensibilities. Maybe she should have allowed Lee to sleep in her bed until morning.
Francine crossed her arms and stood her ground. "Admit it, Amanda. You sacrificed Scarecrow on the altar of Mrs. King's rigid code of propriety."
Stung by the charge, Amanda volleyed back. "Francine, I have young children. Under any other circumstances, I'd have kept Lee in my home. However, my family was present, so it was crucial to factor Mother and the boys into the situation."
"Well, working in the field means putting your partner first." The Desmond daggers shot straight for Amanda's heart. "If you can't set aside your orderly family life for the safety of your teammate then you shouldn't play in the major league."
"Francine, that's enough." Billy glowered at his agent and motioned for silence.
Amanda hung her head, reeling from Francine's reprimand. The zinger had definitely hit its mark. She'd clearly let Lee down. By God, the mistake would never happen again. If she ever got a second chance, she'd follow him into hell before allowing him to go on alone. "Francine, you can't say anything that I haven't already told myself. Believe me; I intend to make it up to Lee."
"I'm afraid that ship has sailed," Francine said with her razor sharp tongue. "Your actions may have already sealed Lee's fate."
"All right, stop it, both of you." Billy pulled his weary frame from the couch. "We don't have the time for your blame game."
The two women nodded an uneasy truce and waited for their boss to formulate a plan.
Melrose hammered his fist in the air. "Okay, let's play the cards we've been dealt. Dr. Smyth has the dogs out searching for Lee, so we'll continue our investigation of Armstrong and his cohorts. Desmond, I want you to accompany Mrs. King to the revival tonight. And I want you to follow her lead. Understood? When it comes to religious practices, Amanda's instincts will be invaluable."
Francine gave an indignant nod. "I guess I can frump it up a bit."
"Amanda," Billy continued, "we don't know exactly who tailed the Airstream last night, so having you present at the service may flush the culprits into the open. Are you up to facing another round?"
"Yes, sir," she replied, poised for action.
"This time, we'll have plenty of back-up." Melrose added, "You won't be able to turn a page in the hymnal without our team noticing the movement."
The office door opened, accompanied by a light knock. "Sorry to interrupt, chief," a flustered Fred Fielder announced in a rush. "We just got an update on Scarecrow."
Snatching the note from Fielder's hand, Billy glanced at the message and then crumpled it in his fist. "I don't believe it. Field section dropped the ball again."
"What does it say, sir?" Amanda held her breath, bracing for the worst case scenario.
Melrose merely shook his head, silently fighting some unnamed demon. Then abruptly he glanced at his team. "Lee was spotted outside a gas station in Winchester, Virginia."
"And what happened?" Francine asked. "Did our team grab him?"
"No! I'm afraid Scarecrow eluded us again."
Amanda's dueling emotions were caught in a quandary. She wanted her partner back in Agency custody, but not if it meant harming him in the process. "Sir, are you saying Lee ran away?"
Billy's hard gaze was an omen for calamity. "It's exactly what we feared. Somehow, Lee managed to get his hands on a gun. When our agents tried to apprehend him, Scarecrow fired on them."
"Oh, my gosh." Amanda felt her knees buckle. Sinking to a chair, she saw Francine look away, pain clearly etched on her face.
"Is anybody hurt?" the blonde finally asked, her professionalism taking a backseat to her anguish.
Billy exhaled a long slow breath. "No one is hurt, yet. However, when our agents catch up to him, Lee Stetson will be dead on the street."
TBC: