by Graham Marks
Det. de Soto took a deep breath, closed his eyes for a second, then snapped his fingers. “OK, listen up … check we have the correct registration and put out a BOLO… Say it’s a 10-57 and no action to be taken, just report where they are. Go-go-go!”
The squad room exploded into action. One of their own was out there, with the missing boy, and everyone had a job to do.
Chapter Forty-One
It wasn’t every day, Anton thought, that your friend got himself arrested. But that’s what the word was on Gabe, and that girl he’d seen him with, Stella. Plus Benny Gueterro was reckoned to be dead! Not that Anton believed everything he saw on the Net. Anyone could post any old garbage, and frequently did, but he couldn’t just sit around and wait to find out what had really gone down. The moment he’d heard the news he’d fired up his scooter and buzzed over to the place it was all supposed to have happened, next to the big Catholic church.
When he got there, crime-scene tape blocked off the street either side of one particular house, which he could see had a busted-out front window. There was a lot of to-and-fro stuff going on, techs in their paper suits on pick-up-and-bag duty, techs taking pictures, flashes going off, and other cops making busy. The main attraction was a pale grey Chevy that Anton recognized, which was parked kind of opposite the cordoned-off house. The front passenger door was liberally spattered with what was either red paint or, more likely given the circumstances, blood. So all the tattle about Benny having got his looked like it was true; he really hoped the same wasn’t the case with Gabe being arrested.
Anton found a place to leave his scooter, locked the helmet under the seat and pushed his way to the front of the gawkers. A few minutes later he noticed a beige-coloured saloon pull up the other side of the tape from where he was standing, but he didn’t pay it much attention until he saw who got out on the passenger side.
Gabe.
He was with some guy in a suit, he supposed it must be a detective, and he looked totally spaced, like he was stoned and not focusing on anything. Except Gabe didn’t do that stuff.
Anton waved, but Gabe didn’t respond. He thought about shouting out his friend’s name, but something stopped him. Standing close to the yellow and black tape barrier he watched his friend walk off with a uniformed officer and disappear inside the house with the busted window.
Gabe and a blank-faced Officer Beaumont walked across the street; no one they passed even looked their way. They went down the path to the rectory’s open front door, and into the house, which still held a faint aroma he recognized as gun smoke. Gabe could see down the corridor into Father Simon’s room. There were people in there, and he was just supposed to stroll in and take away what they would no doubt consider evidence? How was that ever going to work?
Officer Beaumont carried on walking, stopping once they were in the study, where the two techs and a plain-clothes all looked up from what they were doing at the same time.
“OK, officer –” the plain-clothes, sitting at the Father’s desk, pointed at Gabe – “what’s this all about? Shouldn’t he be back at the station?”
“He left something… He has to retrieve it.”
“Retrieve?” The plain-clothes got up, cracking a half smile. “Is he a dog?”
Officer Beaumont let go of Gabe, pushing him slightly. “No one should stop him.”
Wondering if this was what sleepwalking was like – seeing everything, but not being able to control anything you were doing – Gabe found himself going over to the open cupboard where the safe was and kneeling down in front of it. He looked up quickly at the picture on the wall, punched in the four-digit code and pulled open the door. Behind him he heard the sounds of a scuffle breaking out.
“What the hell’s he doing?” The plain-clothes was turning angry now.
“Do not stop him,” Officer Beaumont said, sounding like he was reading badly from a script. “He left something in the house, which he must retrieve.”
Gabe reached in and picked up the gold… Felt the energy surge in the palm of his hand and pulse up his arm, like this evil treasure trove was aware he had come back to get it. He didn’t want to stand up but he didn’t have a choice, Rafael wasn’t taking any chances this time and there was no way Gabe wasn’t going to do what he’d been told. As he turned he saw the two techs, scared rigid, their eyes darting between him and the showdown between plain-clothes and Officer Beaumont.
“Stand back, officer – stand back and stand down. That’s an order!”
Looking over his shoulder, Gabe saw the plain-clothes reaching into his jacket. Saw Officer Beaumont get to his handgun first and not even hesitate for a second before firing once … twice.
An invisible punch flung the plain-clothes backwards like he was a doll, a gout of blood erupting as the bullets exited out of his back, Officer Beaumont straight away turning the smoking barrel of his gun round at the techs.
“You take him, officer.” One of the techs, eyes wide, was nodding at Gabe. “Really, take the kid, we got no problem with—”
Gabe could only watch, horrified at what was playing out. He saw Officer Beaumont shoot the first tech, then the second, both in the chest. Trapped in his own body, Gabe couldn’t even close his eyes. Forcing himself to stare at the carpet, he tried to ignore the blood spatter on it. The phrase ‘in cold blood’ sprang to mind as the perfect description of the officer’s kill spree. It was clinical, heartless, but Gabe had no doubt that was because, like him, the officer couldn’t help what he was doing.
“You must go.” Officer Beaumont jabbed a finger at the door. “Go back now, he is waiting. No one will stop you.”
Gabe started walking, trying to ignore the three corpses sprawled around the room. What he should be doing was making a run for it, out through the open French windows and across the small slate-paved terrace. If only he could break the vice-like mental grip Rafael had on him, maybe this time he’d have a chance to get away. Except that was not going to happen. The only direction he was going was back up the corridor and out on to the street.
Anton watched the guy who had arrived with Gabe get back in his beige saloon. He assumed he was going to find somewhere to park it, but instead he reversed into a driveway and turned the car so it was facing back down the street. Like he was waiting for Gabe to return. Anton turned and, keys in hand, ran back to where he’d left his scooter…
Chapter Forty-Two
The last thing Gabe remembered clearly was walking back out of the rectory with the gold. He wasn’t sure of the time, but thought it had probably been early afternoon. Now it was getting late and the darkness was pressing down on him, making the air heavy and difficult to breathe.
He was standing next to a car, Rafael a few feet away. The car, a nondescript red Nissan hatchback, was parked on a street that seemed familiar, and it finally dawned on Gabe that this was because it was the street the Mission San Sebastian was on. He glanced at the Nissan, aware he could hear the tick-tick-tick noise an engine makes when it’s cooling down, and had a major ‘two plus two equals…’ moment.
How stupid could he have been? It was blindingly obvious that he hadn’t been having any weird out-of-body, psychic experiences after all… That Rafael had been hypnotizing him, putting him into some sort of trance, which explained the silver Toyota he’d seen outside Father Simon’s. It was Stella’s, it was how Rafael had got him there from the Mission, and all the feelings he’d had that he’d been soul-flying in the psychic planes were all a total figment of his jazzed imagination.
So here he was, back at the Mission. And there was only one place here Rafael would want to go with the gold. The chapel.
Gabe focused on Rafael, who had moved to the back of the car and was opening the boot. He was a prisoner, but one with no visible chains holding him, and his captor could make him do anything he wanted. Bile rose in his throat, the pure, acid hatred of this man and what he was doing to him made real. He tried to get rid of the bitter taste, but it wouldn’t go away.
“You had your chance to join me once more, but instead you turned against me!” Rafael said, interrupting Gabe’s thoughts. “You had a chance, a chance few are ever offered, to be a part of a new beginning – because this time I shall succeed! Blood will flow, souls will be collected, faith will be redefined and those who choose not to follow will be destined for the eternal void!”
There was so much electricity in the air it felt as if every hair on Gabe’s body was standing bolt upright. The man’s power seemed to be growing by the minute, making Gabe wonder where it could possibly end. Father Simon had told him that he had somehow brought Rafael’s spirit back from the past, a past he had dreamed about in such detail it had seemed like he really was there himself. And now here was Rafael insisting that he had been there, a witness to his terrible beginnings and now a participant in whatever he had planned for the future. But why him?
“Destiny. That is why, boy.”
Gabe flinched, shocked by the realization that Rafael could not only make him do what he wanted, he knew everything that he was thinking. There really was no escape.
“Death is just a part of the process of living, and it does not have to be an end to life. I have work to do on this stage which I was not allowed to finish, but I long ago discovered there are ways back. You and I have history, boy, no matter how much you might deny it, and you are here to help me finish. Whether you like it or not.”
“I told you, I don’t believe any of this…” Gabe wished he sounded more convincing.
“And I don’t care what you believe, boy.”
Gabe felt a shiver run down his spine. “What are you going to do?”
“Life is a circle.” Rafael came round the car and took hold of Gabe’s shoulder, pushing him to move towards the chapel. “It starts and ends at the same place, with the beat of a heart. Fools believe there is only One True Way, one power who can control the chaos of this never-ending spiral – but they are wrong! I am back to finish what I started.”
“What did you start?”
“The cleansing. The end of everything here and now, which is necessary to allow the start of everything else – the start of the Next Time. And the last thing you will do before you die is understand all this, understand that the opposite of Good is not Evil, and the opposite of Light is not Dark. That is a lie. These notions are simply two sides of the same thing, like a coin.” Rafael reached into his pocket and held up a quarter, which glinted in the street light. “Life, as it is with this coin, is neither good nor bad, it is neutral. It all depends on your point of view…” Rafael flicked the coin with his thumb and Gabe watched it fly upwards, spinning so fast it was a blur. Rafael plucked it out of the air before it hit the ground. “Like this coin, life is all about what you do with it, how you choose to spend it.”
Some way down the street, Anton experienced a strong sense of déjà vu as he watched Gabe and whoever the guy with him was. This was the same as when he’d kind of spied on Gabe when he’d gone to meet Benny. He’d felt bad then, but now it was different. Now his friend really was in trouble. Anton had figured it out earlier on, the moment he’d seen Gabe standing with the plain-clothes guy and then going into the rectory with the other police officer. That gut hunch was why he’d made the split-second decision to try to follow them and see where they went. He’d got a tankful of gas, nothing else to do and a friend in need. Enough said.
It hadn’t been easy, but he’d stuck with it and been careful to hang back as far as he could, blending in with the Sunday traffic. And he knew for a fact, as a scooter rider, that what he had going for him was that he was as close to invisible to car drivers anyway.
Not long after the guy had driven Gabe away from the crime scene, he’d peeled off into the parking lot of a bunch of big stores where Anton had seen him dump the beige saloon right at the back and boost a truck. A couple of hours of seemingly aimless driving later he’d done almost exactly the same thing and swapped the truck for a red hatchback. And now he was taking Gabe across the road towards some kind of historic-looking church.
Anton hadn’t called anyone up till now, as at first he’d thought the guy he was with was a cop, so there was no reason to. Now he wasn’t so sure. Gabe hadn’t looked to be in any danger before, but what was this guy doing taking him off to some church with a spade? He almost called 911, but stopped at the last moment. How long was it going to take for him to convince someone with enough authority to take his story seriously? Way too long was the answer to that question. Locking the scooter he slipped into the lengthening shadows and started to follow after Gabe.
Chapter Forty-Three
As he trudged along the wide path that led to the old chapel, Gabe realized something was missing. Fear. He wasn’t scared. At least not in the kind of pant-wetting way he’d assumed you would be when you were staring the moment of your own death in the face. He didn’t feel particularly heroic or fearless, either, but maybe you just weren’t that frightened when something was inevitable. Turned out it simply made you realistic.
Rafael had been graphically clear that he was going to die, and Gabe was pretty sure, barring a miracle, that that’s what was going to happen. Because he did not believe in miracles. He didn’t want to die, he wanted to live, but it just wasn’t going to go that way. Rafael had trapped him inside himself. He could see, hear, smell, but he couldn’t do. He was nothing more than Rafael’s puppet.
The sky was getting darker now; a razor-edged sliver of moon was hanging like a sharp warning in the deep blue border between night and day. A fevered excitement seemed to radiate off Rafael and Gabe could feel it, an almost physical force pushing him forward.
And then he was aware of shadows moving, off to the left and right. People? It looked like there were men and women coming through the cemetery, walking in the same direction they were… An overpowering sense of dread filled Gabe at the thought that Rafael might be responsible for making the long-dead residents of this place come back to life – was that his plan?
“They are not dead. I have gathered them to come and bear witness to the beginning of the Next Time,” Rafael answered Gabe’s unspoken question. “You found me, boy, but I found them. They answered my calls and they have come.”
Gabe could feel a not so subtle change in the air, as if every living thing was nervously waiting for something extraordinary to happen, like the tense calm before a big storm broke, but much edgier. The indigo curtain that joined the sky to the horizon had grown; it was turning an oily black, and a sickly warm breeze feathered in carrying with it the strangest brew of smells, none of which Gabe could immediately identify. Then, up ahead, darker against the charcoal-night backdrop, he saw the silhouette of the chapel.
The shadowy people were much closer to them now – moonlit, pale figures, animated statues walking quietly through the grey memorial stones. They all had the same blank expression he’d seen on the face of the cop at Father Simon’s place. Gabe had no idea how Rafael had managed to control all these people, how he’d got them to leave wherever they’d been and join him here, but the man’s powers seemed to have grown by the moment since he’d come back. And now he had the gold. Now he had the gold, and Gabe didn’t even want to think what he might be able to do.
Then, like a green shoot in a desert, an idea, a vain hope, occurred to him. How much of what he was seeing and feeling was actually real, and how much was it Rafael messing with him? The hope promptly died.
This was happening, and there was no way out for him.
No one was here to help.
As they approached the chapel, random images of the last time he’d been there barged their way into his head. Rafael with something that looked like a bloody heart in his fist… Father Simon’s torn and savaged body… The delicate snowfall of feathe
rs after he had killed the owl… The holy water arcing like lightning through the air and striking Rafael’s face… The coyotes…
Gabe realized he hadn’t seen the remaining coyote since Rafael had killed Benny. If he could have stopped and looked around for it he would have, but it wasn’t up to him; all he could do was put one foot in front of the other, his remaining lifespan shortening with each step. It was hot for this late in the day, and Gabe was aware of his own rank sweat and the tension knots in his shoulders. Everything ached. He wasn’t going to die young and leave a beautiful corpse; he was going to die and leave a tired, worn-out and stinking one.
He was thinking how stupid it was to waste precious time fretting about his personal hygiene when with no warning Rafael made him come to an abrupt halt; standing rock-rigid about twenty metres from the chapel doors, Gabe watched Rafael walk in front of him and motion silently to the group of followers. In the gloom Gabe couldn’t see exactly how many of them there were, but they obeyed, coming closer and gathering round. It was like watching a weird prayer meeting where the priest, dressed in a cheap grey suit and scuffed black leather shoes, looked like a cop. Except for the eyes. With Rafael it was all about the eyes.
Rafael’s audience, his congregation, didn’t seem to care what he looked like, their faces rapt as they stared at him. Gabe knew what was happening, that every one of them was listening to his silent instructions. Instructions he wasn’t being allowed to hear. Then Rafael pointed at the chapel and, like soldiers on parade, everyone turned in unison and did as they’d been told. Whatever that had been.
Rafael spun round and faced Gabe, holding out the shovel. “Here, boy,” he said. “Dig.”
