The Death of 1977 (Book 3)

The rain outside the cave that afternoon could be heard penetrating the cave's walls so hard that it sounded as if it were going to
collapse right on top of everyone inside. The heat inside was as usual stifling. The stench of body odor and human waste,
combined with the humidity and the dampness only made breathing unbearable and downright impossible. By then, everyone
gathered and working knew how and when to take breaths; in small doses.
Livingston, on his knees, meticulously worked with the various colored wires that were attached to a set of explosives. He
tinkered feverishly, yet carefully, making sure not to insert certain wires into the wrong slots. There were multiple sounds thriving
inside his head, namely the rain just twenty or so feet behind him outside the cave, the workers digging into the walls and
gagging as if they couldn't breathe any longer, and his own heartbeat that wouldn't slow down for anything.
"Blimey!" He griped under his breath at the tiny sparks that flew into his face.
A roll of thunder caused the man to look up and back at the cave's entrance where Philippe was standing with his rifle in hand.
"Philippe, come over right quick!"
Lethargically, the man did as ordered and stood above Livingston. Livingston continued to work with the wires more and more
before saying to Philippe, "Stand here."
Philippe sat his weapon down onto the ground before kneeling and asking, "What is it?"
Taking a blue and yellow wire, Livingston remarked, "Take these, and no matter what, don't drop them."
Philippe secured the wires as commanded while watching Livingston fiddle with the dynamite like they were toys.
"You and the others have been awfully quiet all day." Livingston mentioned without looking at the young man. "What's the issue?"
Philippe's eyes shifted from side to side in rapid succession. "It's...it's just him." He stuttered.
"Him, who," Livingston turned up his nose.
"You know...him."
Livingston glanced at Philippe for a second before re-directing his attention back at his work. "Just stay focused on what we're
doing here." He muttered as if his words were too blasphemous to be said out loud.
"But, how can we stay focused when he's out dere doing what he's doing?"

Sighing, Livingston said, "Look, I can't control the bastard any more than you can. But—
"I can control him!" Philippe pointed at his rifle.
"Don't drop those wires!" Livingston yelled.
"De rest of de men want to leave." Philippe breathlessly urged. "De workers are scared to death. Some of dem would rather die
dan to keep on and run into him. You've seen him like dat before. It's like something from out of a nightmare, isn't it?"
Livingston paused before carefully placing the dynamite back down onto the ground and exhaling. He then gave Philippe a hard
stare in the eyes before standing, facing towards the weary workers and wiping the sweat from off his forehead.
"Everyone can take a break for a moment!" He announced.
At once, all the remaining workers dropped their pitchforks and gave Livingston their undivided attention.
"Now, I realize that everyone is worn out. You're in no shape to continue. Believe me, no one wants this ordeal to end more than
I do. But we are all here for a specific purpose, and that is to become wealthy. But we all know that with great wealth, comes
great sacrifice. These caves are rife with heaven on earth. Not everyone in this country knows about them. But those of us that
are collected here are the fortunate ones. I know that I and my partners have been hard on you. I've been more like an enforcer
than a foreman. But it was for your own good. We're closer now than we ever have been before. This rubbish about wanting to
quit must be expelled from your minds." Livingston then took a breath and examined the crowd. "Where is Tala?"
"She's deep in de cave searching for de rocks you asked for." One of the male workers answered.
"Oh, I see. Anyways, we must maintain our current stride. Only two more days and freedom will be—
"My God," the woman named Tala shrieked as she came flying around the dark edge of the cave.
Everyone, including Livingston, all jumped in startled fear at what had the woman on the run. When they could see Arthur, who
was clothed only in a pair of torn pants, chasing after her, Philippe and his two partners immediately raised their rifles while
Livingston stood directly in front of them. Arthur's fangs were exposed and his eyes were completely white. He looked as if he
was either coming down from a transformation or in the beginning stages. No matter, the frenzied appearance he wore was
enough to have everyone in the cave ready to either attack him or turn and race away altogether.
"Put your guns down!" Livingston screamed at the men.

"But look at him!" Philippe shrieked back.
Arthur was heaving in and out as if he had been running nonstop for hours. Drops of blood could be seen dripping from his
bottom lip. Livingston didn't know exactly what to make of the man or what he should even do with him for that matter.
"Arthur, just calm down and let's talk!" Livingston desperately pleaded.
But Arthur appeared to be too wired to be contained. The man paced back and forth, frothing at the mouth like a raving animal
captured inside a stall.
"Listen to me, these men won't shoot you! Do you understand? They won't harm you!"
But Arthur only snarled while lurking within his space that he seemingly dared anyone to invade. Every so often he would swipe
and snarl at those before him with his hands.
"Listen to me!" Livingston carefully and slowly advanced towards Arthur. "You are Arthur Bushard! You are the king of your
kingdom! I need for you to hear me! I need Arthur Bushard to hear me!"
It appeared the more Livingston spoke his name that was all the more Arthur seemed to focus upon the man. Their eyes locked.
His pacing gradually began to cease with the passing moments.
"I need Arthur to hear me." Livingston spoke more calmly. "Now...don't you recall Demarae once saying that too much changing
can affect the mind?"
Arthur stood for a full five seconds before he hissed in a daze, "Demarae,"
"Yes, yes, your little brother. We still need you. What you're doing out there in the town, it can't continue. It's flat out cock-eyed.
Just yesterday Philippe and the boys had to chase off some of the city dwellers because they're coming towards these
mountains to escape you."
Arthur suddenly stopped altogether and studied Livingston endlessly. Livingston's own heart wouldn't stop thumping. He was
accustomed to the sight of Arthur's alter-ego, but the man's behavior at that point was staggering even for his taste.
"We need to keep the body count down. Look all around you, there's ten million American dollars' worth of diamonds inside this
one region of the cave. It's because of you and your family that we were able to find it. In two days, I'm gonna dynamite this
section and we'll all be rich. I can go back home, these people can go about their lives, and you can rule this island for as long as
you choose. But we need you to remain stable. No more killings. No more madness."

It was dead silent inside the cave. Philippe and his partners had their guns pointed straight at Arthur, ready to make a pull of the
trigger at any second. The workers all held their breaths; some even turned their heads in fear of Arthur's face. It was only
Livingston that dared to move closer to the man until he was within a breath's range of him.
"We...need...you." Livingston uttered so seriously into Arthur's face. "Just two more days."
Arthur's erratic breathing soon came to a halt as he dropped his hands to the side and mumbled so miserably, "Demarae gone.
Dey all gone."
Livingston shook his head and replied, "Yes...they're all gone."
Arthur then looked past Livingston and at the workers and guards who were still pointing their guns at him before he began to
march towards them on his way out of the cave altogether.
"It shall rain non-stop for de next two days." His voice echoed as he ventured out into the elements.
Just like that, everyone breathed a sigh of excruciating relief. The men lowered their weapons and the workers all unhinged
themselves from one another before gradually picking up their utensils.
But it was Livingston who remained stuck in place. It's wasn't that he was still terrified, at least not of Arthur, but he could see his
dreams phase in and out right before his eyes. Behind him on the ground was about twenty-two pounds of dynamite ready at any
given moment to be utilized. Suddenly, however, its immensity didn't seem to hold too much weight for him.
Livingston ever so slowly dragged his body towards the cave's entrance and out into the rainy afternoon where he spotted Arthur
seated inside the passenger side of his truck. He couldn't quite see just what the man was doing inside, but he could tell just
from his distance that he wasn't exactly meditating. Livingston glanced up at the rainy sky before dropping his shoulders and
meandering as carefully as he could towards the truck. With every step he made he could see Arthur's head pointed downwards,
which really didn't bode very well with his already startled state of mind.
Livingston approached the driver's side door and peered inside through the closed window before he opened the door and
cautiously climbed inside. He looked over at Arthur who was wheezing in and out as though he were gasping for oxygen.
"Did you know dat every time I turn dat it hurts?" Arthur asked with a hint of a snarl in his voice.
Livingston wanted so badly to see the man's face, but no matter what Arthur would not lift his head. "No...I wasn't aware of that."
Livingston replied. "But then again, I never imagined it was a pleasurable sensation either."

Right then, Arthur raised his head. Livingston saw only a pair of auburn eyes and a closed mouth with traces of blood laced
around his lips. Livingston shut his eyes in relief at that instant before cleaning the sweat off of his forehead.
"I ate her alive, mon." Arthur said while endlessly staring straight ahead out the window in a trance-like state. "I ate my own sister
to death."
"I know how much she meant to you."
Arthur just pitifully sniggered and said, "She and I failed in dat country. We found trouble in America.
"That's where it usually comes from." Livingston smirked. "We all have crosses to bear. Mine are the authorities chasing me
down, and some annoying voice in my head while I sleep telling me to come to it. It makes me want to take a gun and blow my
fucking brains out."
Arthur took a hard, glaring stare at Livingston before wiping his face with his right hand and remarking, "I must leave dis place,
but only for a moment."
Livingston looked outside before turning back to Arthur and asking, "When will you be returning?"
Arthur looked back out the window. "Sooner dan ya tink, mon."
"We still need your help in there."
Arthur then opened the door and got out. But before he could shut the door, he paused, looked straight at Livingston and said,
"You are in de right place. Keep digging dere. In two days I return, my master will be very well pleased wit me."
Arthur shut the door and began back down the trail that led to the mountain's edge. Livingston watched the man in his rearview
mirror until he ultimately vanished out of sight.
"Your master," he bitterly cringed at the mirror. "Tell your bloody master he'll have to answer to me real soon."