The Devil's Dream: Waking Up by David Beers Page B

kept him from seeing his son again. And what was this interruption from Morgant, if not another Jeffrey Dillan? Just another person, or entity, that didn't want Matthew to do as he had set out. He understood a psychiatrist might say he was suffering from delusions of persecution, thinking that the world was out to get him—but Matthew only needed to turn on a television to understand such a diagnosis was wrong. Now Morgant, indeed Matthew's own mind, was turning against him. Trying to shut him down, to stop him, and if he set this place off now—today—he'd let all of them stop him. His pride had led the first group of police to his cabin in the woods, thinking they couldn't stop him, but now, maybe his pride could keep him going. Because from the look of this place, he was well on his way to being stopped. Maybe not by the police, but by his own mind saying enough was enough, by Morgant's brain demanding payment for the time he resided in it. If Matthew didn't go forward, then he lost. Then they won.
    They don't win because you stop, Matthew, Rally said. They're winning right now. What do you think those cops that killed Hilman would say right now, looking at all this? These bodies and your bloodied self? They'd say that they did the world a favor by killing our son because he would have turned out to be the same. They've already won at this whole thing; they're dead and still winning. Running up the score now. And you don't even realize it because you're playing a completely different game. One that no one else is playing and no one else cares about. Wake up, Matthew. Look around. You've lost and if you somehow are able to cast this world into darkness, then it just means you'll die in darkness too, still a loser.
    No. She wasn't right. The cops that killed Hilman couldn't say a goddamn word because the dead couldn't talk—and that meant Rally's words didn't matter either.
    "You're dead!"He shouted.
    And you're going to be soon, too. How many more people do you want to rape before that happens? Did you not get your fill with five?
    Matthew closed his eyes and blocked out everything around him. She was wrong. He couldn’t lose, not this close to the end. Things were...unraveling a bit, but he was still within walking distance of the finish line. They didn't determine the rules of this game and neither did Rally. Only Matthew did.
    He hadn't been raised an egomaniac. His parents did the best they could with a child whose gifts were beyond anything the world had ever seen. He had never thought his wishes should reign over the world; he had simply gone through life putting in work where he saw it necessary and for the most part that work helped those around him. As soon as he had his own wishes though, his own wants that didn't coincide with what the rest of them wanted, everyone turned on him. A monster. A devil. And now, here he was, fresh off a five round raping, naked, bloodied, and in a foreign body all because they refused to let him have the piece of the world he wanted. Sheeb and Morgant and the young man hanging from the wooden beams all wanted him to stop, wanted him to falter, wanted his dream to fade.
    "No," he said again.

13
    " Y ou two ..." Gyle shook his head, looking down at his desk. "I don't even know if I have words to describe what I'm feeling."
    His voice was low, his hands folded over one another. Art stood behind a chair and Jake sat. Art leaned on the back of his chair, his tie unbuttoned and his shirt wrinkled. Werzen had been missing for twenty-four hours; he delivered the news to Gyle yesterday, but not in person.
    "It was a gamble," Jake said.
    "You're goddamn right it was," Gyle responded, looking up from the desk. "You got anything to tell me I don't know? If you don't, then shut up, please. I don't need to hear anything else from you."
    Art watched Jake hold the man's gaze. Art, somehow despite the circumstances—or perhaps because of them, thought about what might have happened if this was