The Poe Consequence

by Keith Steinbaum

  Veronica had directed him back to Casa Place, a street they had already passed a good fifteen minutes earlier. She called Lieutenant Atkinson to let him know where they were heading and why. Atkinson wanted to send a helicopter, as much for a spotlight as anything else, but Veronica urged him not to for fear of driving Alex away. “I know my brother,” she told him. “He won’t trust you. He’ll run if he can.” Kevin could sense Carl’s reluctance to oblige her but the light from the moon would have to suffice.

  “He’s somewhere in there!” Seth yelled, pointing to a wall of bushes on the left. “He said there’s a fence.”

  They hurried out of the car. “Alex!” Veronica yelled. “Alex, are you here?”

  Seth didn’t hear anything. “Where are you, Alex? It’s Seth!”

  Seth darted into the bushes. Veronica went to search another area further up the path. Kevin got on his hands and knees, preparing to crawl into a section between the two of them when he heard Seth’s shout. “I found it! It’s here!”

  Kevin ran toward Seth, followed by Veronica. He saw the bushes move and heard the rustling of his legs and feet, knowing he attempted to scale the fence. “Seth!” he cried out. “Can you climb it?”

  “Yeah…I…almost…hold on…okay, I’m over! Meet me there! I’m gonna go find him!”

  “No, wait for us!” Kevin yelled, hearing the fading footsteps of running feet.

  Veronica scurried through the bushes and over the fence at a speed that startled Kevin. When he hoisted himself over he saw that she had already run half-way down the dirt path toward a moonlit area where shadowy shapes of trees rose from a flat patch of ground. He heard the sound of a car approaching from the other side of the bushes where they had just been. Assuming it was the police, perhaps even Carl, he debated for a moment whether he should wait. A quick glance at his watch provided the instant answer of ‘no’ and propelled him into a sprint toward Seth and Veronica. The time was three fifty-six.

  Seth’s urgent plea for help echoed from somewhere in the vicinity of the trees. With about twenty yards to go before he got there, Kevin saw him bolt out from behind some long, leafy branches and place his hands on his knees, visibly shaken. Veronica parted the descending limbs and immediately uttered a gut-wrenching cry, making Kevin fear that Alex was already dead. He entered through another section of the dark green partition and became mesmerized by a horrific scene he could never have imagined. A volley of rats swung from the branches and dropped down like large black hail, swarming Alex’s immobile body.

  Despite the hideous event occurring before his eyes, Kevin recognized Warren’s presence. He had read his book of Edgar Allan Poe stories and felt convinced these rats were sent from Poe’s, “The Pit and the Pendulum.” The same thing happened now as happened with all the other victims, and Alex would receive nothing more than a bad scare and scratch marks—a prelude to his planned death by heart attack. There was still time.

  “Seth!” Kevin shouted. “He’s here! Your father’s here!”

  Seth tried to speak, but was obviously frightened and breathing fast. “He’s…he’s…”

  Kevin grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him hard enough to get his attention. “Alex needs you, Seth. Remember what Madame Sibilia said. Your father can hear you. He can hear you! Talk to him! Now!”

  A bright light suddenly appeared from close range. Kevin swatted some limbs aside and saw Carl approaching with a flashlight and drawn gun along with a second officer.

  “Kevin!” Atkinson shouted. “Is he alright?”

  “Please, Carl,” he pleaded, “just wait there. If I’m right in what I believe we’ll know in another two minutes.”

  Kevin glanced at Veronica, her eyes wild with fear and confusion. “He’s still alive, Veronica! Seth can save him!”

  She stared at Kevin, her eyes questioning his belief.

  “It’s his heart we have to worry about,” he exclaimed, “not the rats! Look!”

  Like rushing water disappearing into a street sewer, the rodent horde scampered under the other side of the tree branches and vanished into the night. Kevin, Seth, and Veronica hurried over to Alex, crouching down to check on his condition. Veronica lifted his wrist. “His skin’s so cold!” she said through muffled sobs.

  “Can you feel a pulse?” Kevin asked.

  “Yes,” she answered, “but it’s very weak.”

  The trickling moonlight produced a ghostly pallor to his face, lined with reddened scratches and coupled with the large, misshapen swelling of his eye that couldn’t be ignored.

  “Hurry, Seth!” Kevin implored. “It’s almost time!”

  Seth looked at the both of them before staring down at Alex.

  “Dad?” he said, his eyes scanning the darkened area. “Dad? It’s me. Seth. Can you hear me, Dad? Don’t kill Alex, okay? Please don’t kill him. He’s my friend. My friend! No more killing, Dad. I’m all right now.” Seth stood up, looking toward the sky. “God? If you can hear me, you gotta help Dad. He needs you, God. He was only trying to help me. He loved me, God. And he loved my mom. Please, God. Please. Help him find her up there.” Seth dropped to his knees and held Alex’s hand. “Dad? Please. Let Alex live.” Tears rolled down Seth’s face. “Go find Mom, okay? Okay, Dad? She’ll…she’ll be in the rose garden.”

  In the quiet of the lush canopy, another voice was heard. Alex’s eyes remained closed, but his lips moved, whispering something. They all learned close to listen, and in wonderment, Kevin recognized the words in an instant. Why would Alex be speaking them now?

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  Warren sent the rats away. In “The Pit and the Pendulum,” they had swarmed around the prisoner, “wild, bold, ravenous,” gnawing through the viand-scented bandages until he was freed. The gangbanger’s struggle would find a different ending through the punishment of death for his murderous actions. This form of vengeance remained forever valid and worth pursuing. In a world where darkness dominated much of life, Seth remained a lone star worth protecting in an otherwise black, oppressive sky.

  The designated time loomed; one minute before four o’clock, still dark as midnight. The recitation of “A Victim’s Time” would now be the one privilege bestowed upon this killer before his heart pumped its final beat.

  “The valiant solder’s blood will spill…”

  “Dad? Dad? It’s me. Seth.”

  Warren fell silent, unsure of what had just occurred. He prepared to continue, aware that four o’clock fast approached. Maintaining his death grip on this gangbanger’s heart, he started to speak the next line.

  “On red-stained lands…”

  “Can you hear me, Dad? Don’t kill Alex, okay? Please don’t kill him. He’s my friend. My friend!”

  Warren’s recognition of the voice took several moments to develop, as a desert wanderer’s hesitancy to comprehend the sound of a nearby river. But when he spoke again, there was no mistaking Seth’s voice. And, of course, Warren listened. He wanted to hear what Seth had to say.

  “No more killing, Dad. I’m all right now. God? If you can hear me, you gotta help Dad. He needs you, God. He was only trying to help me. He loved me, God. And he loved my mom. Please, God. Please. Help him find her up there. Dad? Please. Let Alex live. Go find Mom, okay? Okay, Dad? She’ll…she’ll be in the rose garden.”

  Warren’s grip on the victim’s heart eased, but he didn’t let go. He felt a strange unsteadiness in his power and a sudden uncertainty over his existence. His conviction of purpose started receding, the remains of a wave accelerating back into the ocean. But what was he hearing now? A whispering voice, so unlike Seth’s, overran his consciousness and shocked him into another kind of reflection.

  “The valiant soldier’s blood will spill

  On red-stained lands of sacrifice

  The unknown stranger lies as still

  Apart from honor’s noble price

  Two victims of a time to kill

  Beware the heart as cold as ice.”

  The
words stripped away Warren’s final desire for revenge. Whoever this gangbanger was, by reciting the poem at this crucial moment, he showed his understanding between a life worth dying for and dying without a chance at life. Perhaps hope existed after all.

  As he released his remaining hold from the heart, something unexplainable started happening around him. The blackness of his surroundings transformed into an enclosure of dazzling colors, encircling him in every hue imaginable. The constancy of the cold, stale air turned into a warm, gardenia scented breeze, instilling in him an unusual yet blissful feeling of floating. He felt as if he drifted away from something, but he didn’t remember what anymore.

  Warren’s growing awareness of his imminent fate provided an intuitive sense of peace and fulfilled longing. He visualized Seth, comforted in the knowledge that his son’s soul would always be connected to his own. He gazed in understanding and acceptance as the sparkling colors melded into the brilliant white light that now shimmered before him. Warren realized he was at the doorstep to Heaven, marking the end of one journey and the beginning of another. Staring at his naked reflection in the resplendent doorway he now faced, he watched in wonder as the image of Michelle appeared, more beautiful than ever, guiding him to her before wrapping herself around his body, reuniting as one, together, forever.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

  “Did you call Alex?” Kevin asked.

  “He wants me to give you a message,” Veronica said. “Congratulations on the engagement and finding the perfect brother-in-law.”

  Kevin laughed. “Well, I don’t know about the perfect brother-in-law,” he said, “but Marco must think he found the perfect mechanic. Alex has worked there less than a month and Marco told me he’s already the best he’s got.”

  “When are we going to the cemetery?” Seth asked.

  Kevin glanced at his watch. “Soon,” he told him. “I have something I need to do in my office first.”

  From the moment he typed his first word, Kevin’s fingers continued nonstop until he’d said everything there was to say. As he started to read what he’d written, he shook his head from the surreal feeling of events and changes that occurred over the past year.

  Today marks the one-year anniversary of my brother’s murder. With much thanks to the decision makers around here, I’ve been given the chance to reflect on the previous three hundred sixty-five days and share some experiences with my readers.

  A year ago I wrote a series of articles about the increasing danger of various Latino gangs throughout our city. Call it the worst of coincidences, but my brother, Warren, was killed in a drive-by shooting between two such gangs during that same period. I became the legal guardian of his son, Seth, who’d lost his mother to cancer several months before. Seth took quite a while to overcome the trauma from that fateful night. So did I, apparently. I started to drink heavily, comfortably caught in the tentacle-like clutches of alcohol. Concurrently, Seth’s nightmarish encounter with the two Mexican-American gangs that killed his father developed into a strong animosity toward all things Latino, including classmates from his own school. Seth didn’t much care for me, either. A cold peace settled over our lives, and friction became our permanent houseguest. Times were darkest before the dawn, indeed.

  Something special happened that opened our eyes and led us to discover that life is as unpredictable as the final tick of a watch. That analogy is appropriate because for me, time stopped. Not literally, of course, but the kind of weary, joyless time that made each day border on the intolerable, and caused each minute to seem like three. Kevin Palmer, yours truly, fell in love, and last night the woman in my life accepted my marriage proposal. Seth cheered and clapped when we told him. Something I should mention here: My fiancée is a Mexican-American.

  Thanks in large part to her, Seth has learned that every nationality, like those of Mexican heritage, has their fair share of good people. And those bad ones? Like land mines, they’re also scattered around the ethnic landscape. We just have to try our best to avoid them. Seth has also befriended my fiancé’s brother. So have I. Something else I should mention here: Her brother was a long-time gang member, including most of this last year. Did Seth care? Or me? Of course we did. But through the barbed wire discord and fog of divisiveness, time somehow brought change. And redemption. And love. And respect. Not only in the life of an ex-gang member, but for Seth and me as well.

  Moral of the story? I guess life is often more than just a simple case of good and bad, isn’t it? Whether we like it or not, we all must learn to deal with that unrelenting gray in our lives that complicate our decision making and prevent us from keeping things simple and neat. Maybe for those of you out there who don’t believe in the future of your fellow man, who think we’re closer to dividing than uniting, my story might offer a little hope. Who knows? You might be like Seth or me, seeing your life change for the better in the most unlikely of situations, at the most unexpected of times, and in the most unpredictable of circumstances.

  * * *

  Kevin opened the car door and got out, gazing down at the sloping green knoll inside the cemetery. On a cloudless day, the cheerful sound of chirping birds penetrated the silent histories beneath the headstones. As he turned back to close his door, Seth approached him.

  “Uncle Kevin, is it okay if Veronica goes to see my mom and dad with me before you do?”

  “Are you sure, Seth?” Veronica asked. “Maybe you’d rather go alone.”

  “I want to be the one to introduce you, Veronica,” Seth told her. “You’re gonna be my new mom. I want them to know how happy I am.”

  Veronica smiled at Seth before looking teary-eyed at Kevin.

  “Of course it’s all right, Seth,” Kevin said. “It’s a darn good idea.”

  Kevin waited in his car until he caught sight of the two of them returning from up ahead. Veronica had her arm around Seth’s shoulder, and Kevin could see the tears in Seth’s eyes as they neared him.

  “Are you okay, Seth?” Kevin asked.

  He nodded his head but didn’t speak.

  “We’re going to walk down to the entrance area,” Veronica said. “They’ve got benches we can sit on. We’ll wait for you there.”

  Kevin stood and watched them for a while before turning away. He strolled along a pathway that angled up along a grassy slope for about fifty feet, veering left past a vacant motorized cart carrying landscape equipment. When he arrived at Warren’s grave site, reading his name etched in the cold, white stone, the impact of how much he missed him hit suddenly and hard. Kevin allowed himself as much time as he needed to wring his tears out, like a wet rag in need of a good squeeze. When he felt ready, he had some thoughts he wanted to express.

  “You took a wrong turn somewhere, Warren,” he said, his eyes fixed on the grave, “but I think you found your way home. Back to Heaven. And back to Michelle.” Kevin’s eyes narrowed. “Sorry to tell you,” he added, “things haven’t changed much down here.” Lieutenant Atkinson had informed Kevin that the Diablos and Lobos ended their truce. The “killer b’s” were back: bullets, blades, and beatings. But no heart attacks had occurred, and he knew why.

  His eyes shifted one grave over to Michelle’s. “Take care of him, honey. I know he’s a load, sometimes, but you’re the only one I know who could put up with the guy.” Kevin smiled, thinking how nice it would be if they could actually hear his words. “I want you both to know Seth is fine. He’s a great kid. I’ve grown to love him as my own son. He’s learned to move on, too. He’s back with his friends, and he’s doing well in school again.” Kevin stared at the grave sites a few moments longer before walking away. After a few steps he turned back. “Oh yeah, I almost forgot to ask you,” he said. “What do you think of Veronica?” Kevin listened to the silent response. His eyes watered again. “I wish you could’ve been here to meet her.”

  As Kevin wiped his hand across his face, trying to clear his blurred vision, he heard a thudding noise in front of him, as if something dropped from
above where he stood. He froze, gazing in disbelief at the small, round object he saw on Warren’s grave. With tentative, almost fearful footsteps, Kevin got close enough to bend down and grasp the gold-colored baseball in his hand. He took his fingertip and gently rubbed the ‘Dodgers’ logo written between the stitching. He stared up at the sky, then down at Warren’s grave, trying to clear his mind and figure out what he was supposed to do with the present Seth had bought for his father the night of his death.

  Once he arrived at his idea, he was convinced Warren wanted the same thing. Kevin had observed a plastic trash can in the back of the landscape cart with several long wooden tool handles sticking out from the top. Hoping to find a shovel in there, he hurried back to look. Spotting one standing a foot above a green rake and a cultivating tool, like a grade school photo of the tallest kid in class, he glanced around before grabbing the wooden handle and rushing back to dig a small hole in front of Warren’s headstone, setting the baseball inside. After replacing the soil, he got on his knees and patted the area with his hands.

  “I can’t hear you, Warren,” he said, “but if you’re saying, ‘thank you,’ you’re welcome. This will be our little secret.”

  On the way back to his car, Kevin suddenly recalled what Madame Siblia told him about looking for a sign from Heaven and Earth. “That’s what she must have meant,” he whispered to himself. “Warren and his baseball.”

  Deep in thought, Kevin rounded a wide curve and slowly headed toward the bottom of the driveway. Madame Sibilia, whoever or whatever she was, sure knew what she was talking about, but she missed something.

  “Heaven and Earth, huh?” Kevin said, speaking out loud as if she were with him. “Well, I’ve got news for you, lady. There are two more signs for me to look for. One’s name is Seth and the other one is Veronica. You know what I call that?” Kevin smiled at the obvious answer. “Heaven on Earth.”