The Lamp (The Lamp Series, Book 1) by Jason Cunningham - HTML preview

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CHAPTER 24

L EVI DIDN’T LET off the gas pedal. He zipped through

side streets, dodging frightened pedestrians who were

fleeing for their homes, perhaps their lives. He wanted

to avoid the main streets that stretched through

midtown because that’s where the booms and gunfire

had been heard. There were more choppers now,

whooshing overhead, their blades cutting through the

tense night air like rapid machine gun fire.

He saw smoke in the distance as he sped across

Tenth, looking to get as far away from the war zone as

possible.

The lamp at his side still burned with a gentle glow

that was just barely there, ever so faint. Levi slowed his

speed as he rolled through stop signs, his head

whipping back and forth to avoid a collision. After

twenty minutes of frantic driving, the people seemed to

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have disappeared altogether. This far out, either they

hadn’t heard all the commotion or were already locked

inside their homes, bracing for the onslaught.

Levi raced up the back roads, winding his way

toward Jenny’s apartment. He didn’t have time to stop

and call her; he just needed to get there, and fast.

• • •

Jenny could not only see the smoke by now, but she

could also hear the deafening gunshots that rang out

every couple of minutes — so loud, in fact, that she

knew they were close. Very close.

“Can you get us out of here?” she frantically asked

the driver.

“Where do you want me to go?” he asked, his hand

waving toward the cluster of unmoving traffic all

around them. She looked at the meter, which read

$44.00, and tossed him a few bills. The driver whipped

around. Jenny reached for the door handle.

“Where you going?” he pressed. “Are you crazy?”

Jenny rushed from the taxi and down an adjacent

alley. She kicked the brick wall to intentionally break

the heels off her shoes, glancing back in the direction

of the street. The amused taxi driver was looking back

at her.

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He shrugged his shoulders and smiled to her. Then

his head exploded as a bullet tore through the cab in a

quick flash. The windows shattered as crimson blood

and gore splashed against the side window.

Jenny screamed, then grabbed her own mouth and

dropped back against the wall. She ducked behind a

dumpster, her body shaking uncontrollably. She kept

her hand firmly against her mouth and peered out onto

the street to get a sense of the threat. There was a brief

struggle between two men in military fatigues and a

knife-wielding pedestrian. The two men forced him

down onto the asphalt and then one of them placed his

gun against the back of the man’s head.

Jenny jumped to her feet and sprinted down the

alley. She heard the gunshot ring out behind her as

she blasted forward, finally coming to a side street that

was completely still. She saw no one. Picking up the

pace, she bolted forward, moving in the direction of her

apartment. She knew it was only a few more blocks.

“Just keep running,” she told herself as she skirted

through vacant streets. Helicopters circled overhead

and someone shouted unintelligible words over a

loudspeaker. Occasionally she’d look to her left as she

ran, toward midtown, where a violent clash was taking

place. She saw citizens rushing toward a police

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barricade with flaming bottles, launching them behind

the barrier. “Explosions,” she thought. “Smoke.”

Her mind raced as fast as her feet. She didn’t know

from where, or from whom, the attacks were coming.

The citizens were throwing homemade bombs, but who

walks around with those? She didn’t know whether to

fear the police, or the guys in military fatigues, or

regular people dressed as civilians. Everyone seemed

dangerous all of a sudden. Another explosion sounded

and the violence of the force nearly knocked her down.

Her ears rang as she trucked forward, her lungs

burning.

Directly ahead of her, Jenny saw large crowds

pooling. They were shouting and raising their fists. The

helicopter’s spotlight fell on this group and they began

shouting skyward now. Jenny continued running in a

zigzag fashion, taking one street as far as she could

without running into a mob, then dashing for the next

parallel street, and doing the same. She was now five

streets back from the main action on Broadway and

the booms, gunfire and yelling could still be heard. She

felt light-headed and sick to her stomach, but she

pressed on. Her feet hurt badly as they pounded the

asphalt, her chest tingling from extreme shortness of

breath. And then she made it to the apartment

entrance.

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The front door was locked.

Jenny pounded on the door, begging for help. Where

was Russell? Or Carl? Or anyone else! Why had they

locked the doors?

Jenny slammed her palms against the glass window

that overlooked the lobby. “Hello! Hello! Can anyone

hear me? Please let me in!”

She heard quick footsteps scraping up the sidewalk.

Her head swiveled. A group of six men wearing military

fatigues stormed toward her. She didn’t see any logos

on the uniforms, which told her immediately that these

were not soldiers. At least not the kind she recognized.

Reflexively, she jumped back. The mob picked up

their pace, closing in fast. She pounded and kicked the

glass with such force that it cracked. But not enough

for her to break through. The men were now a few

meters from her.

She heard a roaring engine and turned her back to

the men. Levi’s car skidded to a grinding halt on the

curb, just a few inches from the building. Levi jumped

out of the car and ran to Jenny, then placed himself

between her and the mob of men who were descending

upon them. He spoke over his shoulder to her, “Get in

the car. Get in the car now.”

Jenny hurried into the passenger seat. The men

slowed their pace but continued forward, marching

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toward Levi. His eyes moved down and saw one of

them igniting the end of rag, half-stuck inside a bottle.

A flame erupted and Levi shouted, “Jenny… get out

of the car! GET OUT OF THE CAR!”

The man launched the Molotov cocktail at Levi’s car,

just as Jenny popped the door open and flung herself

into the street. A huge flame engulfed the interior of

the car.

There was a loud whooshing sound and the fireball

quickly extinguished itself, as though the scene had

been played back in reverse. The mob stopped where

they stood, frozen in place by what they’d just

witnessed. All six men looked at Levi, then the car,

then back to him.

Levi rushed into the street and saw that Jenny’s leg

was cut and bleeding. He tore off his sleeve and

wrapped her leg in a tourniquet. He peeked back to the

sidewalk and saw that the six men were walking away

from them. Jenny insisted on standing up unaided and

they stared at one another for a long moment,

exchanging a look of comfort. They fell into a hug.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” she said in his ear.

“I didn’t find her, Jenny,” he said. “I’m so sorry, but I

couldn’t find her.”

“That’s okay,” she replied.

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Jenny’s gaze fell to the still lamp resting peacefully

inside the car. At that moment, she knew something

amazing had occurred. The lamp had absorbed the fire

and saved them both from what would have been a

deadly explosion. No wonder he guarded that thing so

closely.

• • •

Violet felt the cold leather of the sitting chair in the

small of her back where her shirt had risen. The pain

of her ulcer had settled and now she felt only the

intense desire to sleep. She looked around the room

and heard Chris splashing water from the bathroom

sink. She didn’t know what he was doing in there so

she sat up and called to him, “Everything all right?”

She didn’t hear a response. Again she scanned the

room. A large bed, a desk, a draped window that

overlooks the busy intersection. Her sights then fell on

a bag in the corner. She stood up and neared the bag.

“Can I help you?”

Violet jumped at his voice. She turned around with a

shy snicker. “Sorry.”

“I see,” he said with a grin. “Going through people’s

stuff is a hobby of yours, huh?”

Her face lightened at his warm tone.

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“No, I just…” she started.

“You’re just a thief?” he accused.

Violet heard something less than friendly in that

question, but didn’t know if he was joking around.

“No,” she said. “I was just curious what was in it. I

didn’t mean to…”

“Want me to show you?” he interrupted.

He lurched forward and suddenly seemed taller than

before, his shoulders wider too. She stepped back

nervously as he reached her. He then bent over and

opened the bag. Violet eyed the door.

“See, you’re not even looking,” he said.

Violet slowly turned her gaze back to him and saw

Chris removing a long trench coat with a hood stitched

inside. She’d seen that garment before.

“Do you like it?”

“Is your name really Chris?”

“Is your name really Violet?” he asked.

She felt a knot tighten in her throat. The room began

closing in and she grew claustrophobic. “Were those

your friends at the arcade?” she persisted.

“Of course they were my friends. What’s gotten into

you?”

“Nothing,” she said, laughing to hide her suspicions.

“My head just isn’t working tonight.”

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She moved past him and walked back to the chair

since it was closer to the door. She knew that if she

ran for it too quickly, he’d be able to catch her. She

needed to distract him first.

“Hey, Violet…” he said.

She turned back to him and saw that he was now

wearing the coat and hood. “Tell me I look sexy. I know

I do.”

His tone was casual and light. She wanted to keep

things on that level for as long as she could.

“I have to say, you do look quite striking, Chris.”

“Do you have a cell phone on you by chance?”

She didn’t like the sound of that question, but she

knew the truth would only work against her.

“Yeah, who doesn’t? It’s in my pocket. Why?”

“Can you take it out for me? Can I see it?”

Violet felt her throat tighten again. Why did I say

that? Of course he was going to ask for it, stupid!

“Why do you want my cell phone? Get your own,

moocher.”

He smiled and said, “Come on, don’t give me a hard

time. Let me see your cell phone.”

“I can’t,” she admitted.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t really have one.”

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“Oh,” he said, surprised. “Well then why did you lie

about it?”

She shrugged and shook her head, I don’t know. He

chuckled under his breath. “I really like you, Violet.”

He drew closer to her and she felt like shooting for

the door. But it was too late, as he already stood over

her. She sank a little bit deeper into the chair and

Chris extended his fingers, caressing her cheek with

the back of his hand.

She spoke in a voice racked with nerves,

“Remember… back at the arcade, you checked the

box.”

Chris nodded, smiled, and retracted his hand. “I

know, sweet Violet. I know.”

“As long as you know,” she said, trying to focus her

eyes on anything but him. He sat down on the edge of

the bed across from her and they exchanged a look. A

long silence followed.

She gulped. “I’d like to leave, Chris.”

The man on the bed drew in a deep breath and then

said, “I know you do. But you can’t.”

He snatched the telephone from the end table and

flung it into her lap. She jumped back, terrified by his

sudden aggression.

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“Enough,” he said. “You know who I am and what

I’m capable of doing to you. Call your friend Levi and

tell him to come here and pick you up.”

“He doesn’t have a phone,” she said in a whimper,

thankful for once that he actually didn’t own one.

“I know that,” Dev replied. His eyes turned black and

thick veins appeared in his neck. “Call the girl, the one

he swoons over. Tell her where you’re at and she will

bring him.”

“What do you want with them?” she asked. Her

entire body trembled, unable to hide her fear now.

“Never mind that. Call them and resolve this

peacefully.”

“Not if you’re going to hurt them,” she said. “They are

my friends.”

“CALL THE GIRL!” he demanded.

Startled, Violet looked down at the phone in her lap

through teary eyes and thought about dialing 9-1-1. “It

won’t work,” he told her. “Only more lives will be lost if

you try to call for help.”

She stalled, pretending that she didn’t know the

number.

“What are you waiting for exactly?” he asked as he

pulled a long, serrated hunting knife from his coat

pocket. “Need more incentive?”

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“I can’t remember!” she shouted. “You’re making me

too nervous!”

Dev conceded and put the knife back in his pocket.

“It’s that thing you’re wearing,” she said. “That

hood… it creeps me out. Can you just take it off or

something?”

Dev seemed to be impressed with her list of

demands. He stood, towering now, and removed his

coat and hood. He threw them into a corner on the

other side of the room.

“How’s that?” he asked. “Should I remove more of my

clothing to ease sweet Violet?”

She shook her head “no.”

“Good,” he said. “Now just calm down, then go ahead

and make the call. Fairfield Inn. Tell them to come

quickly.”

She hesitated and observed his face morphing into

something more menacing with each passing second.

“He was smart, you know?” she said.

Dev’s expression changed. “I’m sorry, who?”

“Johnny,” she said in a calm voice. “My friend that

you murdered. He was smarter than you.”

Violet quickly stood, threw the phone into Dev’s face,

and kicked the chair into his legs. She dove toward her

backpack and flung the zipper open. Dev was one step

away from her but her hand had already gone inside

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the bag. She yanked a pocket knife out and flipped it

open, scooting herself back like a crab, inching away

from him. Dev looked down at her pitiful attempt at

self-preservation and wanted to laugh. Seriously? A

pocket knife?

She stumbled back onto her feet, nearly out of

breath, and pressed her back against the door. His grin

mocked her.

“This could’ve been easy, Violet. But now…”

“Shut up!” she told him. “Stop talking to me! You

think I can’t slice your throat open? Huh?”

“This is just pathetic,” he said. “Call your friend and

I’ll put you away quickly instead of drawing it out like

I’d planned.”

“I SAID STOP TALKING!” she yelled. “You think I

don’t know about your little secret?”

Dev raised an eyebrow. “Secret?” he said, suddenly

curious.

“Johnny talked my ear off about that comic.

Someone knew something, didn’t they? I listened for

hours as he talked on and on about that stupid book.

But he was my friend, so I paid attention.”

“Enough of this. Call your friends!”

“I know you people have a token. That’s what makes

you strong, isn’t it?” Her tone was a frightened jest.

She knew she had the upper hand.

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Dev turned toward his coat and hood. “Oh,” he said,

“that thing. Well, you’re right about the token. You are

a perceptive one, Violet. But you’re also bad at

guessing, because the cloak isn’t it.”

“I know,” she said in a whisper.

Violet’s hand went into her pocket and emerged with

a silver pendant, some kind of charm or talisman.

Fear sprang onto Dev’s face, his eyes blazing with

intensity.

“Looks like you’ve misplaced something,” she said.

Dev made a move toward her and she knelt down,

sliding the pendant under the door and far into the

hallway. He crashed into her with a thud, sending her

into the wall with violent force. He grabbed her knife-

wielding hand and wrestled the meager weapon away

from her. She bit his arm and he dropped it.

Dev took hold of her tiny waist and threw her across

the room with ease. She popped back to her feet and

blasted toward the door as he stood blocking it. She

was met with a hard shove, sending her crashing back

into the side wall. She then stopped, exhausted and

out of breath. He stopped too, just glaring at this tiny

girl causing him such a fuss. He was almost

impressed.

“We all have a weakness, Violet,” he said in a deep

voice.

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He took a step forward and then punched her as

hard as he could in the stomach. She dropped

instantly, curling into a tight ball and fighting to suck

in a desperate breath.

“Heard you have some stomach problems,” he said.

“That’s a real bitch.” He whipped the door open and

snatched up the pendant from the hallway. Lifting it

high, he then dropped it into his mouth and swallowed

it, which required great effort. After a painful gulp, he

said, “Looks like I won’t be misplacing it now,” loud

enough for her to hear.

Dev reentered the room and locked the door. He

glanced down at Violet, who writhed painfully on the

floor. For a moment, Dev felt something: a moment of

genuine pity for the innocent girl. It was soon replaced

by anger, as she was now obviously unable to talk.

How can she call them now?

He grabbed her with one hand and launched her

back onto the bed. He tied her right wrist to the

bedpost, using only one cord from his bag. She

couldn’t have moved anyway, even if he hadn’t secured

her.

“Sorry it had to end this way, Violet. I genuinely

mean that. But if I can’t force your friends to come,

then I’ll just send them a little message.”

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A loud explosion rang out, startling him. He looked

out the window and saw that someone had launched a

gasoline-soaked rag into the front lobby, setting it

ablaze. He smiled and turned back to the helpless girl

on the bed.

“Better yet,” he said. He took a roll of electrical tape

from his bag and then emptied the bag itself. He began

taping the bag to the ceiling, covering up the sprinkler.

He looked down and saw her still struggling to breathe.

“You wanted to protect your friends,” he said. “This is

the price, kid.”

He took one last glance out the window and saw

chaos outside, as people ran from the hotel and onto

the streets. A fire alarm went off. Dev locked the room

before exiting into the hallway, where he was showered

with water from the functioning sprinklers.

Dev walked calmly out of the main entrance, people

rushing around him in every direction. A smile came to

his lips as he pulled the hood over his face and walked

into the night.

A single gunshot sounded.

Dev felt the force impact his body, and knew that

he’d been hit. But he just considered it a mild

annoyance, knowing he couldn’t be harmed so easily.

His eyes peered up from under the hood as a

policeman fired one more round into his torso. That

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one knocked Dev back a few steps. He looked down

and saw a massive blood stain on his stomach. His

vision began to dim and he turned and saw the charm

lying on the asphalt behind him, along with portions of

his insides. He fell to his knees and toppled forward,

straining to reach out and touch his talisman.

The last thought running through his mind was a

simple one, fully of irony. Had he not swallowed the

pendant and instead kept it in his pocket, his stomach

would have already healed itself from the gunshot

blast. That wretched girl. And then, as his sight failed

him, he remembered only that he had punched the girl

in the stomach, and laughed. It didn’t seem so funny

now as the darkness finally swallowed the dark one

himself. The police officer examined his face,

wondering if he’d mistaken the arsonist. He quickly

holstered his gun and fled back to his patrol unit.

Dev’s inglorious death was a common one, like a

petty criminal shot down in the midst of a crime.

Unable to prevent the sting of death like he’d done so

many times before, Dev took and expelled his final

breath as any mortal man does, and died like the rest.

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