“Aren’t you going to ask me about the anomaly?”
“I already know as much about that as I care to know,” Chris sighed.
Jim grunted and then lowered his hair into the water. He lifted back up and rested his head against the side of the tub. He lifted his stump up and dangled it over the side. Keith stared at it.
“So, do you find her attractive, or is the missing hand too much to get over?”
“I’m just a little freaked out about sacrifices in general, to be honest,” Chris answered.
Jim laughed, and then coughed violently. His lungs were trying to empty out all the phlegm that the bath had loosened up. Jim swallowed hard and then smiled.
“Do you want to know a secret?” Jim asked.
“Maybe.”
“I’m not sure I find her attractive, either,” Jim said.
Keith watched an odd series of glances between the two. A silence settled as Jim kept his face rigidly blank.
“You see,” Jim said, “I don’t know if I’m just more removed from the situation, but I’m beginning to question the sanity of everything going on.”
Jim leaned back in the tub and resumed shooting water in the air with his good hand, and smiled when he got it to shoot over the faucet.
“Before,” Jim continued, “everything was urgent and necessary. The sacrifices, the anomaly, my role as a prophet, but now I’m thinking that the anomaly has nothing to do with me and I have nothing to do with it. It’s going to keep on going, regardless of what I do. I’m not, nor was I ever, meant to be a savior.”
Chris nodded and leaned forward toward the tub. Keith’s body shivered and went cold. These were the conversations he feared most, the ones that always lured Chris back into Jim’s clutches.
“And I don’t want this to come off like a moment of clarity, seeing-the-world-for-what-it-is thing,” Jim said. “I know people say I just came up with this whole delusion because I tripped one too many times and was seeing things. It wasn’t that, never really was. What’s happening in the woods is real, and isn’t some mass illusion.”
“But?” Chris asked.
“But,” Jim sighed, “I’m starting to think maybe I’m not the one who is supposed to deal with it. Leave that to scientists, mathematicians and religious scholars, the kind of people who might be able to make some sense of it.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that, Jim,” Chris said. “If you want, we can take off tonight and get you away from these people. We’ll call off the show. Whatever is happening in the forest, we’ll leave to the police.”
Jim lifted his foot up and slid his big toe into the faucet to let the cold water drip down his instep.
“Let me help you out of this, Jim,” Chris insisted. “You’ve got a great wife and a great kid waiting for you. They need you, not these people.”
“It might not be that easy, Chris.”
Keith could tell that Jim was afraid, and he could also tell that Chris was going to do whatever it took to help him. Keith was losing control of the situation, but didn’t know what to do to stop it.
“Let me help you,” Chris whispered. “There is always a way.”
Jim grinned and looked back to his big toe. Jim’s smile grew warm and wide. He slid down and submerged his head under the bathwater. Keith hoped he wouldn’t come back up, but he knew that Jim would. Jim never went away for long; men like that never did. They were parasites and sirens, incapable of thriving on their own and too enticing to ignore. Even after five years of silence, Jim’s talons had never unlatched from Chris’s heart, even if the marks didn’t always show. He was like herpes that way.
“I’m going to check on the naked girl,” Keith grunted. “I don’t want her leaving ass prints on our coffee tables.”
Keith walked out of the bathroom and closed the door behind him. He made his way through the house quickly and found the woman lying on the couch with her feet resting on Will’s thighs. Will’s head was slumped down and he breathed in short, soft, grumbling snores.
“Do you need some clothes, honey?” Keith asked, sweetly.
“From you?” the girl sneered.
“Don’t mind what I said in the bathroom,” Keith smirked. “I’m just the jealous type. Let’s go looking through my closet and see if we can find something that’ll fit you. Besides, I want to hear more about this concert thing going on tonight.”
Sean
Sean’s face trembled. No matter how hard he fought to calm down, tremors hit his body in waves. When they swelled, it rattled loose a sniffling moan. Sean’s mind numbed, and as he pressed into the man’s side, he felt more secure. The man was named Seth and he had been in the army and had a cast on his foot. Seth’s father was nearby and called him “Junior.” It made Sean smile in between the panicked sobs.
“Hey, settle, it’ll be okay, I promise,” Junior mumbled, nudging the boy slightly.
Sean imagined his face, probably strong and rigid like the G.I. Joes at home. He couldn’t see Junior; he couldn’t see anything. He did know that Junior was strong; he could feel the muscles in his arms. He believed that Junior could break the ropes holding him, and would save him and his father and carry them out on his shoulders while fires exploded and bullets flew.
Junior was Sean’s Superman.
“Tell me more about school,” Junior whispered.
“It’s okay,” Sean sniffled.
“What’s your favorite subject?”
“I like when we do science stuff,” Sean said, straining against the rope. He wanted as close to Junior as possible. He needed the warmth.
“Like what, putting celery in red water and stuff?”
“Yeah,” Sean chuckled, then snorted.
“That stuff is pretty cool, I remember doing that,” Junior said. “I wanted to do something like that for a job, but I got too much bone in my head. You understand?”
“Yeah,” Sean laughed. “You sound pretty smart to me.”
“You hear that Dad? I sound pretty smart.”
“I’ll be damned,” the father replied, with a chuckle. “You need to start putting that to use in getting us outta here.”
“Workin’ on it, Pops.”
Sean sighed and rubbed his shoulder up to his eyes to wipe away tears. He leaned back against Junior and strained to lay his head on the man’s shoulder.
“Why am I here?” Sean whispered.
“Not sure, son,” Junior said. “Do you not know these people?”
“They knew my dad; he is kind of famous.”
“Oh really, who was he?” Junior asked.
“Jim Jacobs,” Sean mumbled, dreading the reaction.
Sean could feel the man’s breath stagger and hold.
“Did you hear that, Dad?” Junior finally said.
“Yeah, boy, I did.”
“Goddamn Karma, huh?”
The father grunted, but didn’t reply. Sean was terrified that they wouldn’t want to talk to him anymore.
“So, you’re kinda important, huh?” Junior asked Sean.
“I guess, I don’t know.”
“Nah, you’re plenty important,” Junior replied lightly. “Son, I bet you are probably the most important person in these woods right now. You’re much too important to be hanging out with the likes of us.”
“But, I like you,” the boy said nervously.
“Oh, we like you too. Don’t we, Pops?”
“Yep, absolutely.”
“We like you quite a bit and we’re honored to have you here with us,” Junior continued. “In fact, if I had to choose one person in all the world to be stuck in the woods with, you’d be first on my list.”
The boy cuddled tighter up against the man.
“Thank you,” Sean whispered.
“I’m willing to bet money you’re also the safest person here, too. You know that?”
“No,” Sean replied.
“I gotta admit this ain’t no way to be treating someone famous …”
“I’m not
famous,” Sean laughed.
“More famous than us, boy,” Junior said snippily. “Now, don’t interrupt me, I gotta point and that don’t happen too often.”
“That’s the truth,” the father grumbled.
Sean laughed and rubbed his eyes with his shoulder again. The tears soaked into the blindfold and were itchy.
“Sorry,” the boy said.
“Now, you should be getting treated better than this, and maybe they are just preparing you for something better,” Junior said. “Hell, it’s Halloween, I bet they got a mountain of candy just waiting for you, but they figure they’d play a joke on ya first, so that you’d appreciate the star treatment when it comes.”
“I’m not a star.”
“Boy, I’m gonna have to twist your ear if you keep interrupting me,” Junior grunted.
Sean giggled.
“You just wait,” Junior continued. “It’ll be coming, but we won’t get any of it because we’re just normal folks, you understand me?”
“I’ll make them give you some candy,” Sean said sternly.
“Thank you, that’s mighty nice of you, ain’t it, Pops?”
“Sure is.”
The crackling of feet stomping over dry leaves broke the conversation. Sean couldn’t tell how many people were coming, but there weren’t many. They weren’t talking, which the people usually did when they came to check up on them. It made Sean nervous, but he was already pressing as close to the soldier as he could.
Sean winced as the men approached. They stopped just next to the boy, and Sean could smell the men’s sweat. The ropes tugged behind Sean and unraveled. They loosened and fell from his hands.
“What’s happening?” Junior asked.
“None of your damn business,” a man growled.
Sean was tugged up to his feet.
“Junior!” Sean called.
“I’m going with him!” Junior yelled. Sean could hear Junior struggling to get up.
Sean tried to jerk his arm away from the person holding him, but the person’s grip tightened. A thin braid of hair swept against Sean’s face as the person wrapped his arms around him.
“Junior!” Sean screamed.
“Shut up!” the person yelled right into Sean’s ear, which made it ring.
“I’m going with him!” Junior yelled.
“You’re staying here, soldier boy.”
He picked up Sean and carried him away.
“I’ll come get you, Sean!” Junior yelled. “Sean?”
“Help me!”
“I will!”
*******
The blindfold was yanked off Sean’s head. His eyes closed as the sunlight burned his retinas. A hand pushed Sean in the back, and he stumbled forward. Sean narrowly opened his eyes as he was shoved into a large tent. It was a large circular tent with the sunlight seeping through the light blue fabric. It obscured the outside world, with nearby people discernable only as dim shadows.
A bony figure sat on the other side of the tent. His beard was matted like a stray dog’s and his skin was dry and leathery from sun exposure. His thin, hairy legs stuck out from what looked like a skirt. It wasn’t a kilt; it kind of looked like something Sean had seen other men wear when he’d gone to Hawaii with his mom.
The man’s eyes were distant and apathetic as he looked over Sean.
“Do you remember me?” the man asked. “I know your father. We’d met a few times, years ago.”
Sean was taken aback. The man sounded like a teacher, but looked like a troll. The combination scared Sean even more.
“No, sir, I don’t remember you.”
The man chuckled lightly.
“My name is Herbert. People here call me ‘Herb.’ ‘Herb Hefner’ in fact, is that funny?”
“I don’t know.”
The man laid back, but kept himself propped up on his right elbow. Sean lowered his eyes to the ground and backed slowly until he felt the fabric of the tent.
“Are you afraid of me, Sean?” Hefner asked.
“Yes, sir.”
The man grunted with amusement.
“I think your father is afraid of me, too,” Herb said. “He never seemed to trust me, even after I did so much to advance the movement. Do you think that’s fair, Sean?”
“Can I go home, please?” Sean countered.
The man sat up and glared at the boy.
“Do you think it is fair,” the man repeated, his voice sharpening, “that I’ve sacrificed so much for his movement? I’m the one dealing with police. I’m the one keeping out informers and protecting the herd. After all I’ve done, he is treating me like an outsider? Is that fair?”
“I don’t know, sir,” Sean said. “Can I go home, please?”
“No, and do you want to know why?”
Sean began to whimper, but held himself together momentarily. The fear grew, and breath by breath he felt his resolve fail. He finally began crying.
“Ugh,” Hefner grunted, standing up and stretching until his ratty hair touched the top of the tent. “Your father was totally incapable of dealing with his fears, did you know that?”
The man took a few steps toward Sean and looked down at him.
“That’s why you’re here, Sean,” Hefner said, while his eyes held evenly on the top of Sean’s head. “Your father was supposed to be here by now, but he has yet to leave Norman. We have a handler with him, but we cannot tell the Prophet anything. It is not our place.”
Sean shifted his face away from the man, glancing at the flap of the tent. Hefner noticed and crossed in front of Sean.
“Go sit down over there,” Hefner said, motioning to the far side of the tent. “Sit down and take off your shirt.”
Sean’s stomach did a low, slow roll as it twisted. His hands trembled.
“Sit down,” Hefner repeated slowly. “Take off your shirt.”
“No.”
Sean didn’t understand the situation, but was overcome with terror. His face jerked slightly, his body was shuttering and sweat began trailing down his cheeks.
“Sean, bad things are going to happen if you continue to cause me problems,” Hefner said, grabbing the boy’s arm and lifting him. “I’m the one who can make this easier on you.”
Sean tilted his head away from Hefner.
“Sit down!” Hefner growled, shoving the boy to the ground. Sean rolled around and scrambled to the other side of the tent. His eyes were wide and bulging as he watched Hefner.
“Sean, everything is going to be okay,” Hefner whispered. “I am a Lion. Do you know what that means?”
Sean didn’t respond. He wanted to scream, but didn’t know what would happen if he did.
“I have the power to tell everyone here what to do,” Hefner said. “I make the decisions; I’ve kept the movement alive. And now, tonight, when everything reaches its climax, I will have done what I needed to do in order to salvage this little world of ours.”
Hefner kept his eyes steadied on the boy. He sat down without looking away.
“Please, Sean,” Hefner said, his voice softening. “Take off your shirt.”
“No.”
Hefner frowned.
“Do you know why you are here, Sean?”
“No, sir.”
“We must sacrifice to destroy an anomaly. Do you know what an anomaly is?” Hefner asked, but didn’t wait for an answer. “It is when something that shouldn’t happen has happened. This anomaly leads to another world, and only your father has survived it. He was able to close it on the other side once, and he must do it again or it will consume our world.”
Hefner leaned back on his elbow while staring at the boy.
“He is going to take the believers with him this time,” Hefner said. “We are going to guard the opening from the other side to ensure that it never opens again. Doesn’t it sound like we are doing a good thing, Sean?”
“Yes sir.”
“Now, the question,” Hefner sighed. “Why are you here?”
Hefner allowed Sean a few moments to respond, but he didn’t.
“You are here because your father isn’t,” Hefner said. “If your father could survive it, I’m guessing you can, too. We will use you as the key to salvaging the world we leave behind.”
Sean’s eyes lowered from Hefner and he brought his knees up to his chest. He fixed his eyes on the center of the tent so that he had Hefner in his periphery.
“I am not a bad person, Sean,” Hefner said. “I am here to save your mother, your grandparents and your classmates. I am here to keep this world operating. I believe in its beauty and I am willing to sacrifice myself and the movement I helped create.”
“Hefner?” a man’s voice called into the tent.
Sean shifted position as Hefner looked toward the flap. A shadow appeared on the other side. Sean prepared to run.
“Who is it?” Hefner asked.
The flap zipped open. Once daylight shot through, Sean jerked to his feet and dove for the opening. A large, broad figure caught him and threw him back into the tent.
“Always running,” the man laughed. “Just like his father.”
The man had a gray beard, gray hair, and soft, half-closed eyes.
“What can I do for you, Brian?” Hefner asked.
“Just checking on things,” Brian replied, ducking his head in and looking around the tent. “You know that Robbie is in the camp now, right?”
“I heard,” Hefner said. “I thought you said he wasn’t coming back here until the concert.”
“Someone told him about Sean,” Brian said.
“Fine, I’ll deal with him when it’s time, but for now, I will need some privacy.”
Brian studied Hefner.
“He’s only a boy,” Brian mumbled.
“Privacy please,” Hefner replied.
Brian shook his head.
“He is the Prophet’s son,” Brian said, then looking toward Sean. “Come with me, Boy.”
“Stay where you are, Sean,” Hefner growled.
“What is going on?” a third voice called out.
Hefner and Brian glanced out the tent. Sean edged over to look out the flap.
“Oh, you’re back,” Brian smirked at a tall man in a dress suit. “How was the funeral?”
“Shut up,” the man snapped, pushing past Brian and stepping into the tent.
The Dominant Hand Page 22
