Sowing Season

by Brian Patrick Edwards

  The thought of Unity’s promises sang back to him as her words pommeled his confidence, making him wonder whether or not there was actually any truth to them. He had never heard of such things happening to others.

  I wonder if it’s possible for Unity to lie? Would he do that? Maybe all of it is in my imagination -- the fantasies of a mind running on too little sleep and too much anxiety. One thing’s for sure -- the captain definitely uses my desire for a promotion to manipulate me. I probably won’t move up until the boss retires or, better, gets killed. Not much chance of him getting killed in the line of duty. He sits cozily behind the safety of his desk and in the comfort of that overstuffed chair. Away from bullets whizzing through the air and, yet, still years away from laying down the badge for good. Isaac’s chest quaked with discouragement and the bitter thoughts; pulses of melancholy flooded into all parts of his body. His heart was cold with sadness, chilled within the chasm of his chest.

  “She doesn’t know, Isaac. She’ll kneel before you in worship, if only you listen to me.” Isaac shook his head, holding his hand across his forehead, trying to silence the sound of the unnerving voice.

  “I’m trying, Susan,” he repeated, reestablishing his composure, “and all I can do is give it my best. I’m trying my hardest. I love you.”

  “It just seems lately like your best isn’t enough.”

  “Whatever, Susan. I really don’t have time for this right now.” He shook his head again, reminding her, “I’m going to step out for just a minute.” He waited at the door, pausing to hear her send him off with her love, but she didn’t say anything. She stood up, without even looking his way and made her way to the stairs.

  “Love you, honey,” he called out, hearing the click of her expensive stiletto heels trail up the stairs, but there he stood, unanswered and ignored.

  …

  “Destroy them, Isaac. I will save your marriage.”

  Isaac stepped out onto his large L-shaped front porch and reached back to shut the door behind him. The warm brilliant light that had momentarily flooded the porch while the door was open, immediately collapsed in on itself, leaving only the dim light from a nearby street lamp to illuminate the area.

  “I’m not a clairvoyant, you know,” he retorted, forgetting to call his boss. “I can’t just summon information on the various locations of these people. What do you want from me? They’re untraceable.”

  “I will show you.”

  “Well…I’m waiting.”

  “Are you agreeing to do as I say?”

  “I mean, I guess. Not like I have much of a choice at this point,” lowering his voice, hoping his wife could not, somehow, hear him. He decided to walk towards the park down the street, for the sake of additional privacy, to continue his conversation.

  As he moved down the street, his gaze trained on a bus stop, which stood alone. A lamp, equipped with a motion sensor, lit the bench at the stop. It flickered on and off as an opossum, searching for bits of food along the ground, moved in and out of the sensor’s reach. A large screen -- mounted on the side of the shelter for waiting bus passengers -- displayed ads for a number of products ranging from toothpaste to television streaming subscriptions. As Isaac drew nearer to it, he noticed the pixel colors changing in a wave from top to bottom. The opossum stopped moving and froze in place upon seeing the approaching man, then quickly turned to vanish into a nearby shrub.

  “You guess? Do you still not understand who I am?” Unity displayed himself on the bus stop screen before him. Isaac saw the same image from the dream he had earlier that day. The sight filled him with terror and his legs became weak. He fell to his knees in front of the apparition.

  “I’m losing my damn mind. That’s what’s happening. I’m losing my mind right now and I can’t tell anyone about it,” he spoke the words aloud to no one in particular.

  “You’re not. I’m truly here with you.” The emerald man with an uncanny resemblance to his father held his arms fully outstretched from his sides.

  “How? How can you prove to me that it’s all real? That I’m not some sort of schizoid? You told me not to tell anyone. You show yourself when no others are around. You’ve revealed yourself in dreams. Do you blame me for thinking that it’s all a bit unrealistic? I’m standing here, speaking to the ruler of the world, and for whatever reason he looks like my dead father.”

  “You’ve had psych evaluations recently,” Unity’s lips moved as his voice spoke through the Auris, “that concluded you are healthy.”

  “As if those mean anything. I lied through half of it.”

  “You want me to prove to you? That I am with you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Will you obey me if I do, once you know the truth?”

  “Yes, please! I’ll do whatever you ask of me.” Isaac stood to his feet, finally up off his knees. He looked around briefly to make sure no one witnessed him shouting at the bus stop.

  “Your wife should be calling you at any moment now.”

  “What?” Isaac’s heart sank into his chest. The sentient being didn’t answer him, only stood staring into Isaac’s eyes with his stone-like facial expression. “What did you do to her?” The Auris rang, and Isaac answered immediately, “Honey, are you okay?”

  “Isaac, the hell did you call me? I’ve been trying to get to you all night!"

  “Captain, my apologies! I was expecting my wife to call. I promise I’ll call you right back.”

  “Isaa-” the captain began to shout, but Isaac ended the call with his furious boss to accept the other.

  “Isaac,” Susan’s voice sounded frantic, “have you left yet?”

  “I’m just at the bus stop! What’s happening? Are you okay?”

  "There's something weird going on here. All the house speakers are blaring the anthem and the lights are flickering. I'm really creeped out right now," she whimpered. "Can you come to fix it or something?"

  “Yes, I’ll be right there.” Isaac took off in a full sprint from the bus stop towards his home. He could see the lights from inside the house flashing rapidly -- a haunting by Unity, beckoning him to cast away his doubts.

  “No need to fix anything.”

  “Why would you do this?”

  “Why would I do what?” Susan shouted, still on the other end of the call. “I didn’t do anything!”

  “You desired confirmation, did you not?”

  "I wasn't talking to you, babe," Isaac explained, through his heavy breathing as he ran up the porch steps where Susan paced nervously in one of her pale silk bathrobes, this one a lightest shade of baby blue. Water dripped from her wet hair, the moisture darkened the robe’s fabric and she shivered in the wintery air. He reached forward to touch the doorknob and in an instant, upon reading his prints, the erratic lights stopped their show and the blaring music ceased to play. An eerie silence and stillness followed in the aftermath of Unity’s chaotic concert. Susan studied Isaac's hands, wondering what he did to end the circus. She found nothing there, no indication that he did anything to remedy the situation.

  “What the hell was that?” She asked, breaking past him to enter the heated ambience of their home.

  Susan looked around the house, her emerald green eyes darting here and there, but seeing nothing to explain what had happened. The captain called him repeatedly, but Isaac declined every call while he tried to calm his wife’s concerns. She continued to shake visibly and stayed close to her husband’s side while he walked through the house, searching for clues.

  “Do you still doubt me?”

  “No. I believe you,” he answered, almost inaudibly under his breath.

  “I’m not sure I can stay here tonight.” Susan flipped a light off and back on again, attempting to ensure nothing would trigger the effects again. “If you leave for work, I may have to head over to my parents’ to stay the night.”

  “Well, I haven’t even spoken to my boss yet. I may not have to go in.”

  “What the hell have you been doing o
utside? You were gone for like fifteen minutes?”

  “I was reading emails. I’m calling him now.”

  “Ridiculous.”

  Isaac stepped outside, once again, hoping Unity would not interrupt him. He waited a moment, in stillness, on the porch for the voice, but it didn’t come. He let out a sigh of relief, the cold air turning his warm breath visible and into a deep haziness, almost like a living thing. He called his boss.

  “Sir, I’m sorry. Things have been hectic. Had to take the ol’ ball-n-chain into the clinic today. She’s pregnant. But not for much longer,” he added.

  “Well, you could’ve mentioned that, Isaac. I’m very unhappy with you right now. You’ve really been a failure lately, when it comes to reliability.”

  “I’m sorry. Do you need me to come in?”

  “No, no, no. Take care of Susan.” The captain’s voice changed, “I just wanted to let you know that people upstairs are getting real impatient with this case. Fears growing, news preaching nothing but doomsday, and we’ve made little to no progress since that woman escaped the warehouse.”

  “I’m sorry sir.”

  “If you’re going to leave work, I need to know. I need to know everything you do. You can’t just wander off anymore without telling anyone. If I call, you answer, immediately. I’m not going to have a fire under my ass, sticking my neck out for you. If they need answers upstairs, you better be ready to give them.”

  “I understand. And, again, I’m sorry sir.” Isaac paused, “While I’ve got you on the phone, I’m not sure if you know these things, but the clinic procedure is a two-day thing. I have to go with Susan first thing in the morning. Do you mind? I can come into work once it’s done.”

  “Take care of your wife,” the captain answered calmly, “then get moving. They need results, Isaac. And you’re the best I have at my disposal.”

  "Yes, sir." Isaac ended the call and rejoined his wife, still shaken, in the house.

  …

  Relieved to hear the news that he didn’t need to go into work, Susan felt a little better about staying the night in their ‘haunted’ house. Isaac was just happy to finally have an opportunity to close his eyes and get a full night of uninterrupted sleep. The cure to sleepiness -- the rapid energy drink he downed earlier had zero impact on his drowsiness, other than an unnaturally fast heart rate. In seconds, he drifted into the chaotic realm of dreams. Unity greeted him there.

  Within the dream, Isaac asked, “You never explained to me why. Why the secrecy?”

  Unity answered with visions depicting the nature of the world and the people inhabiting its every region along with a steady stream of narrative, “People like to pretend they don’t know what’s happening. They opt in for ignorance. Yet, they want nothing more than the demise of the Zealots. They’re truly filled with bloodlust for them, eager to see them extinct, including the Catholics. They’re nothing more than another archaic ideology in the modern world of our people.

  Unless it’s done quietly, however, it will make them uncomfortable. Sensational newscasts and rumors would cause them to begin questioning things, especially if done in a blatantly obvious manner before them. We do things in secret to protect their consciences, their fragile and false senses of charity and honor. They’re just as wicked as we, but unlike us, they can’t handle seeing it. They can’t handle the sight of blood on their hands. They can’t handle the devices of death. They can’t handle the excitement they’d feel -- the same excitement you felt standing over that crushed Zealot.”

  “And there are others like myself?”

  “There are thousands of you. Dozens in every major city, waging my secret wars across the globe, my holy crusaders.”

  “Well, I’m going to need some help.”

  “And you will have it, Isaac. That and the world. You will have it all.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  One late night during the last week in November, the Zealots, all wearing disguises, gathered at Jeremy’s workshop. Each team leader had a van, an antique type that required someone to actually drive it, which they drove to the meeting. If handled carefully, the vans were mostly unnoticeable.

  The street was silent and empty of souls, other than the quiet movements of the Zealots working beneath the hazy and distant light from the city and full moon. The nearest working streetlamp stood nearly a mile away, its light far too weak to reach them, which was a good thing. Discretion was critical. Each man carried a small flashlight to light the way while they walked back and forth loading each package into the backs of the vans. They were packing each van with enough explosives to level its assigned target clinic. The brothers, Eddie, and Jeremy, each had their own objectives and dressed in the uniforms worn by the STORK organization’s IT staff. They recruited peons to steal the uniforms and Debra, with Nelson’s help, created fake security badges for the brothers to carry.

  This was Stone’s first bombing mission. Drenched in sweat despite the cold temperature, he tried to conceal his growing uneasiness from the veteran Zealots with nerves of steel and emotionless faces.

  “Also, before I forget to tell y’all, we’ve got Debra on over-watch with Nelson. Make sure y’all join the channel by the time we leave,” Jeremy tapped his ear, indicating they should do so immediately.

  "Yes, monsieur,” Clement notified him covering his mouth so he could only be heard speaking over the Auris’ chat, smiling as he did so, “I’m in now.”

  “Alright, awesome,” Jeremy answered, just as everyone else joined the chat as well. He and the men closed and locked their van doors after they finished all the loading. “We’ll go over this once more, but inside the workshop.”

  The abandoned home looked dark and desolate in the daytime and even more so at night. Even on the inside, portions of it remained completely black, illuminated only by a few flashlights carried by the members. To say the house was dirty didn’t quite cover the reality of the situation. Beams from the flashlights made countless tiny particles of dust and debris visible as it floated through the air. Jeremy led his crew to a table upon which he had laid a map. On it they could see four STORK clinics surrounding the City of Birmingham -- each highlighted and marked with a lead man’s codename.

  “Francis has Glen Iris,” Jeremy explained pointing to each location, “and your brother has Northside. Eddie’s got Woodlawn,” he looked over to Stone, who stood next to him, “and the two of us have the Mountain Brook clinic.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Stone’s words carried a tone that did a poor job masking his intense anxiety about the mission. I wonder if everyone feels this way right before go-time, he mused to himself, trying to quell the tension.

  “The little streams make the big rivers, young Stoney.” Francis comforted the younger man with a heavy pat on the back.

  “Debra, how’s everything looking on your end?”

  “Nelson’s ready to go, Jeremy, whenever y’all are. He’s checked each clinic’s firewall. Nothing there he and I can’t handle. Says he’ll easily be able to shut down security once everyone’s on site.”

  “Fabulous.” Jeremy’s face opened with a smile of crooked teeth that glistened in the light of his flashlight. “Once you boys have gotten into position, notify the chat and we’ll get the all-clear from Debra after Nelson’s in the system.” He stood silently for a second, looking over everyone’s disguises. “Also, there’s likely to be a physical security presence, so if you run into anyone, try to play it cool. We’re just upgrading their network switches. Once you gain their trust, they’ll forget about you. Night shifters are snoozers. Any questions?”

  “Yeah, when are we detonating?” Stone asked, still confused about the planned sequence of events. All the information Jeremy and some of the others poured into him over the past week made him mentally exhausted.

  Jeremy gave him an impatient look. He held his flashlight over his nose and eyes, creating a shadow that gave his face the appearance of a skull. He finally answered, “We’re setting them off to
morrow morning, once they’ve opened for business.”

  “Ah,” Stone said, dipping his face downward, embarrassed that he had asked a question that Jeremy had likely already covered.

  “Alright, anything else, or are we done screwing around in the dark?” Eddie asked with a biting sarcastic tone, laughing aloud as he blinded one of the Frenchmen with his light.

  “One more thing -- and I know everyone’s heard this before, but remember what you gotta do if it hits the fan.”

  “We know," Eddie confirmed somberly, lowering his head down as he remembered his martyred cousin.

  Everyone walked outside and shivered as Jeremy rolled up the map and followed them out, locking the door on his way out. Francis and Clement were competing to see who could produce the biggest vapor cloud as they exhaled over their flashlights into the biting cold air. Once Jeremy joined the group, they all stood in a circle and prayed many prayers over the mission -- supplications that they would have courage and be successful.

  “Saint Michael the Archangel,” Jeremy finally led them in the familiar cadence of the chanted prayer, “defend us in battle. Be our protection against the malice and snares of the Devil. May God rebuke him, we humbly pray. And do you, O Prince of the heavenly host, by the power of God thrust into Hell Satan and all evil spirits who prowl about the world,” Stone envisioned the clinics as they would look in the morning, blackened and shattered, “seeking the ruin of souls. Amen.”

  They each made the Sign of the Cross and hugged one another. They uttered their farewells as if it were the last time they would lay eyes on each other. Then each climbed into his own van. The roaring of the engines suddenly broke the peaceful silence surrounding them.