Chapter Thirteen

Vengeance Unto Thyself

Rage flared into a fiery sphere of overwhelming wrath and the burning urge to seek brutal revenge.  In his fury, Roxton tore the room apart.   Bookshelves crashed to the floor, the books and various objects sprawling across the ground.  Tables were violently overturned.  Chairs were savagely kicked sporadically across the room.  He howled as he sliced the tree house into ribbons.

Veronica witnessed the crime to her home in horror, but terrified of intervening in the man's crusade to demolish his inner demons.  She glanced at Malone and Challenger who stared fixated on the unraveling scene in a mixture of alarm and awe.  No one noticed the eerily silent Marguerite slip apathetically into the kitchen.

Finally, Roxton collapsed to his knees and yelled: "DAMN YOU!"  He hung his head, spent and weary from his adrenaline decline.  All he wanted was to curl up in his son's grave and die. 

The man who had stolen Adam's life had maliciously robbed his grave and brought him to this God forsaken place, giving Roxton and Marguerite false hope that he could bring the child back.  This bastard had only been in it for himself: the greedy son-of-a-bitch wanted to experiment on Adam simply because the toddler had been his victim.  And Doctor Burns would have gained world recognition if he had succeeded: using Adam as his prized guinea pig.  If the truth had ever come out that he had been the one who killed Adam, he probably assumed that the Roxtons would forgive him of his sin since he "fixed it" by resurrecting their baby.

A cry from the other room sent Roxton leaping to his feet and dashing into the kitchen.  "Marguerite," he gasped, rushing to her and falling beside her on the floor.  "Oh, my darling, no, please, no," he yanked off his shirt and wrapped it around her wrists.  The cloth easily soaked through, blood smearing her clothes.

"I hate him," she sobbed, shuddering from shock.  "I hate him."

Challenger was immediately shouting orders to the others, bending down to inspect her wounds.  "They're pretty deep," he mused worriedly.  "We must stop the bleeding quickly.  Malone, boil me some water and get an iron rod.  Veronica, get me some bandages, thread, needles, and lots of pain remedies.  Roxton, carry her to your bed."

Roxton lifted Marguerite with ease, cradling her frail body to him.  "What on earth do you need an iron rod for?" Roxton inquired sharply, stepping around a tipped chair on his way to their bedroom.

Challenger peered at him gravely.  "I may have to burn her arms in order to stop the bleeding."

"Uncle George," an excited voice exclaimed.

Challenger whirled around.  "James, do Uncle George a favor and go into your room.  Don't come out until your mommy comes and gets you.  Ok?  Do you understand?"  He spotted Malone sprinting towards the old lab.  "Malone, before getting the iron rod, put James to bed."

Malone whipped around, scooped up his son, and scurried off.  "Come now, James."

In the bedroom, Roxton gently laid his trembling wife on the mattress.  "Oh, darling," he kissed her forehead and smoothed her hair back away from her face.  He glanced back at the professor.  "George, what can I do?"

"Hold her."

Malone and Veronica entered the room carrying the needed supplies.

Roxton crawled onto the bed behind Marguerite and straddled her between his legs, bringing her back to rest against his chest.  He placed kisses randomly on top of her dark hair, rubbing his hands in circles against her stomach.  "It's going to be all right, Marguerite.  It will.  At least we have each other."  Her pasty coloring frightened him, but he swallowed the lump in his throat.  "If you dare leave me, Marguerite, I will follow you.  Do you hear me?  I'll walk right behind you into the arms of Death."

Her glassy eyes sought him out, slowly landing on his face.  "Then," she whispered, her eyes rolling slightly back, "we'll…be…a family…again."

Tears leaked from the hunter's eyes, spilling onto the woman embraced in his arms.  "Damn it, Marguerite.  Don't you dare!"

"Adam," she gulped, her eyelids drooping, "is waiting…for me."

"Marguerite.  Marguerite, darling, I can't live without you.  I can't."  He squeezed his eyes shut.  Damn it, God, you already took my son.  Don't take my wife.

"She's loosing too much blood," Challenger proclaimed.  "Ned, go place the iron rod in the fire pit.  I'm probably going to need it."

Marguerite became slack in Roxton's arms.  "Marguerite?  Marguerite!"

"Hurry up, Ned," Challenger barked.  "She's dying!"

Holding onto his still wife, Roxton wept.

End Chapter Thirteen

Fab:  Thank you.  I wasn't so sure if anyone would care for Dr. Burns's account.