by Gary Sapp
Peacekeepers—he thought he’d heard the media refer to them in that vein—dragging a white man out of the passenger side seat of an old Buick by his hair.
A trickle of sweat poured down his own forehead as he continued to watch the proceedings: They drug him up the hill, within 20 or 25 feet from where he was seated. Seth heard a bald dark skinned man—the only Peacekeeper unmasked—supervising the operation.
Seth looked away. He felt a sudden tingling running through his legs. He took it as a good sign that he’d be able to lift himself up and escape. He was the wrong color in the wrong neighborhood on the wrong night. And nothing would change those facts for the better. And probably no amount of explanation that he was a doctor would serve these people. He had just decided to exit to the south when he heard subtle movement behind where he was still sitting.
Seth thought, don’t panic. Well okay, you are already panicked, but don’t show it.
“Good evening, Doctor,” A deep voice said. “Well, good morning actually. You finally came to. For a moment I thought that I had belted you across your head too hard.”
Seth eased into a new position with his knees up, chin down, and his arms wrapped around his legs.
“Very good, Doctor, very good indeed. You are playing it smart. You are taking in your surroundings; letting the moment breathe. You’d be amazed how many people get themselves killed in situations like this one because they talked too much or did something irrational.”
Two of the masked men slam the white man, who’d been dragged from the old Buick, to the asphalt. The victim pleads his case. The bald headed man and the others halt the assault long enough to turn towards Seth and whoever is behind him, seemingly awaiting instructions.
“You’re going to execute him,” Seth managed to say in as neutral a tone as he could muster. It was the same voice he’d learn to perfect over the years in his practice. He’d often needed it when he had given a patient the news of a difficult diagnosis or when he had to inform a family that their loved one had died on his operating table. “May I ask what his crime was?”
“The Circle has attained enough circumstantial evidence to convict this man for the being responsible for the disappearances and murders of four men of color on separate occasions in Southwest Georgia and across the border into Alabama.”
“Circumstantial evidence?”
The man behind him grinned softly.
“Sorry. I need to back up a bit. Let me give you a little history. This man, John Ritter, was actually convicted in a Georgia courtroom for one of the kidnapping and murders. Yet, and you’ll like this part, Doctor,” He paused for effect. “Yet, that jury indictment was later tossed aside in an Appellant Court due to logging errors by the arresting officer. Can you believe that, Doctor?” The man’s breathing became very heavy. “The court allowed a killer to walk because of a logging error.”
Seth swung around. This man of color was lean and toned. He had almond colored skin, big brown eyes and wore a fresh haircut. Seth couldn’t recall ever seeing this man on television. He quickly decided that he wasn’t Xavier Prince.
But if Xavier Prince didn’t fear this man he very well should have.
“Look, I don’t know who you are, sir. But those men over there are Peacekeepers. You mentioned the Circle. That means you are all A House in Chains. I’m certainly not foolish enough to instruct you how to carry on your business, but aren’t you violating your own mandate. I thought Xavier Prince called for an extension to the Zero Hour to avoid hostilities.”
“He did.” The man behind him said. “And as you have so politely articulated, I am a member of the Circle. And I’ve decided on my own authority that recovering Atlanta’s missing children won’t erase the guilt off of this man.”
Seth felt himself swallow.
“Am I on your list as well?”
The member of the Circle shook his head.
“No, of course not, Doctor. You are one of this state’s most decorated and successful surgeons. You improve the quality of your patient’s lives. You save countless others. You are an asset to this community…” The man’s voice trailed off.
“…You are so unlike your wife.”
Seth finally stood.
“You have me at a disadvantage, sir.” The doctor said, and then quickly realized he had adapted Denise’s inflections of his last spoken word. He took a deep breath before speaking again. “You know so much about me and my family and yet I don’t even know your name.”
“My name is Quincy Morgan. I am the sergeant at arms of A House in Chains and the military head of the Peacekeepers.”
Seth swallowed any foolery or bravado that he may have dared to mouth next. Angel had made powerful enemies across of wide spectrum. A few impotent words ushered from his thin lips weren’t going to change that from fact to fiction like magic.
And yet, as long as they both lived, she was his wife.
He had taken a vow to protect her.
He must still find a way to reach her before…before all the others did.
“If my wife is truly guilty of any wrong doing she should be tried and subsequently convicted in a court of law by a jury of her peers, Quincy.”
The other man nodded.
“As well she might. My Peacekeeper’s part in this phase of the operation will be very brief.”
Seth shook his head once, not understanding.
“What exactly does that mean?”
Morgan checked his watch.
“We don’t have the time or the resources to dedicate a full search for your wife, Doctor.” He took a step in Seth’s direction. “We are sure that Roxanne Sanchez does have both time and resources to complete the task for us—likely before dawn anyway.”
Seth slouched in his stance a little.
“So why am I here, Quincy?” You didn’t knock me unconscious just to have me awaken so you can gloat about my wife’s impending doom.” Seth wiped spittle from his lips. “Why am I here? What could you possibly want from me?”
Quincy Morgan approached Seth. The doctor felt his pulse quicken and his pulse racing in his ears.
“Come with us. Witness our historic and glorious work for yourself.” Quincy’s voice lowered itself to an almost quiet, but lethal tone. “And my people have much glory to take in the hours ahead.”
Seth dared square his shoulders and held the other man’s gaze. “It sounded as if you asked me along and not instructed me to. Are you saying that I have a say so in this matter?”
Quincy laughed. It was surprisingly absent a sarcasm and animosity.
“Of course you have a say so, Doctor. It’s not as if anyone here had put a gun to your head.”
“And if I choose to decline your offer?” Seth asked quickly while he wore courage on his shoulder. “What if I choose to left alone? What if I walk away from here?”
“Then you would have chosen darkness of the light. You would have chosen death over life.” Quincy said just as quickly. His mood was dire as if the laughter of the moments just before now never existed. Dr. Seth Dupree watched the other man’s big brown eyes fall to slits. “I can guarantee that each member of the Peacekeeper cell you see before you will hunt you down like the hound dogs your people once released on runaway slaves.”
Seth felt tears coming. “And then your people will kill me.”
“No,” Quincy shook his head and the smile had reigned again. “No, Doctor, not at first. We will let you suffer out here for hours and hours on end helpless and alone. You will tire. Your body will wish for food and water. Your mind will urge you to push on and save your loving bride. But then—and only then—when your spirit is crushed, we will find you and end your suffering in as violent way as possible.” Quincy patted Seth on the shoulder and walked past him. “But it doesn’t have to come to that extreme. Join us. The FBI is incompetent and a jumbled mess. Like I said before, they aren’t going to find those children. You can join us instead. You can watch as A House in Chains Vision of the Future unfolds for you
rself.”
“I’ll come with you—“
Seth barely gets the words out of his mouth when Quincy calls out to the bald headed man, Percy, to kill the man who they had drug from the old Buick.
Percy snaps out a pistol from a holster, his expression so calm…so neutral, as if this ungodly business is just another task to be completed on the day’s itinerary. The gunshot barely makes a mark on the sound meter but in Seth’s mind it is the shot heard around the world.
Seth felt wet. Perhaps he’d pissed in his trousers. He dared not look. Finding the wet mark would only confirm that this nightmare he was suffering through was indeed very real.
He was alone.
He was in a city that housed millions and yet he was so very alone.
Millions, he heard a voice, Roxanne Sanchez’s voice call out to him. There are millions here but all you needed to do was listen to one voice, Seth. You should have never left me, Seth.
You should have never allowed me to leave you.
Within an hour his captors had driven an old beat up Hertz into a parking lot outside a sleazy looking motel. Seth grunted and shook his head at the car—at the metaphor—and told himself what a calculating man this Quincy Morgan must have been.
The wind had picked up and tossed the Gray Man’s hair about with the back window down. He rested his head against the lowered glass and pondered his last memories of the world and his life in it would be the stench of the wildfires in his nostrils. He guessed that it was better than smelling blood or that man’s
