by David Beers
“Veronica?” Waverly said.
She turned back, happy tears in her eyes. “He’s hungry.”
“What?”
“Nothing. What did you ask me?”
“The note, did you leave it?”
She nodded. “Yes. I wrote down what you told me to.”
“Do you remember exactly what you wrote?”
Veronica shook her head. “My memory … it’s still not what it should be, or what it was. I just remember that I did what you said before we left.”
Waverly nodded. “Good. Thank you.”
A thought came to Veronica, one she should have wondered earlier. She no longer felt angry at herself about forgetting such things. The doctors at the hospital told her it would be awhile before she remembered everything, both things in the past and in the present.
“What’s happening to us?”
Waverly nodded and looked down at his legs. “We’re getting one more person. Christian’s mother. Then, I think we go to him. To Luke.”
“Christian is doing this, though? It’s not Luke, right?”
Waverly nodded. “The simplest way to explain, is just to say he’s lost it. I don’t know how much he understands about what’s happening. He’s bringing us to Luke, though.”
Veronica nodded, understanding in a way that perhaps Waverly couldn’t. She didn’t always know what was going on around her, and she certainly hadn’t known back with Luke—but she did know him, and the power he held. She knew that when Luke wanted something, he got it, and so she couldn’t be angry with Christian for this.
Or maybe, that was just Luke’s programming coming to the surface. Maybe she wasn’t mad because she was supposed to go with Christian, both of them heading to Luke.
She had been mad before, even telling him to never visit her again, but that’s because he had been in charge of his decisions then. He wasn’t anymore. Luke was. Luke was in charge of them all. Dictating everything.
Maybe even hers. Still.
Another thought came to her. “Do you have any plans to stop him?”
Waverly was quiet for a second; the Senator didn’t move at all. “Outside of your note, no. I might be able to overpower him. I mean, I know I could if I have the opportunity, but that’s the problem. He’s got the piece.”
Veronica nodded. “Luke doesn’t leave a lot to chance.”
Luke was considering killing Dr. Canonine.
The man was growing more annoying by the hour. He was dealing with severe post traumatic stress, alternating between periods of mania and depression. Sometimes he blubbered in the corner, and other times he asked wide ranging questions of Luke as if this were a college class.
It all was becoming quite bothersome.
Luke had wanted to keep the doctor around for a while, simply as a sort of revenge—petty, Luke knew, but he would still indulge himself. How much longer could he deal with the doctor, though? He didn’t know.
He was also considering just opening the door and letting Canonine run outside. Allow him to run through the desert until the elements ended his life. That would be a decent form of torture.
The doctor was crying now. He lay on his back on the other side of the room. His eyes were open and he stared at the ceiling, tears running down the sides of his face. “Please don’t kill me,” he said.
Luke hardly heard the words. He was good at blocking out the man’s inconsequential blathering.
Luke needed to talk to Christian. It had been three days since their last discussion, and he wanted to understand where Christian was at. Yesterday evening, Luke had used the car’s radio to listen to the news. Christian hadn’t been too clever when picking up Veronica, apparently. A note had been left, and now the country’s law enforcement agencies were officially mobilizing to look for him.
Which was a problem.
Or could be, depending on how Christian handled it.
The people in charge were connecting Senator Robert Franklin’s disappearance with the note left at Veronica’s hospital. So he was wanted for two kidnappings.
Christian caused Luke a lot of worry, more so than anyone else to ever come into his life—perhaps even more than his brother.
He’s nearly your son, though, and parents always worry about their offspring more than anything else.
Luke stood, picking up the cell phone from the table as he did. He walked over to Canonine, and stood above him.
“Please let me live.”
Luke only stared at the man, dialing Waverly’s number and putting the phone to his ear.
“Hello?” Christian answered.
“I thought you might keep Waverly’s phone,” Luke said. “You’ve got the first three, I take it?”
“Yes.”
“And now you’re going to your mother?”
A pause. Christian was quiet and Luke knew resistance was rising in him, even now. After all this, his love for his mother was strong.
“Christian, you know you must.” Luke said, watching the man cry beneath him. “The three you have aren’t enough. I had hoped they might be, but they aren’t. Get her and bring her, and all the pain you’re feeling will go away.”
Christian’s voice shook as he spoke and Luke pictured the tears in his eyes. Perhaps they were even falling down his face. “You can’t make this go away. You can’t make it stop.”
“You know that’s not true. The only place it all ends is with me. That’s when you’re whole again. So keep coming, and let us be whole together.”
Christian didn’t respond. All Luke heard was his labored breathing.
“I didn’t want my brother to be taken, but he was. God decided these rules, Christian, and it’s us who must play by them. Soon, though, you’ll see that we can win against him. That the rules won’t need to apply forever. You’ll be free of them.”
“Okay,” Christian said.
“I need to tell you to be careful, Christian. They know you took Veronica and the FBI is looking for you now. You’ll need to throw that phone out as soon as we end the call; they’ll be tracking it, if they aren’t already. Hopefully the Constitution has held up against their desire for warrants, but it won’t much longer. You sent Waverly into Veronica’s hospital, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” Christian said.
“Throw the phone out then. We won’t communicate until you show up. Can you remember where to go if I give you directions?”
Christian was quiet for a second, and then said, “You can remember?”
Luke knew Christian wasn’t talking to him, but someone else in the vehicle. One of the beings that only he could see.
“Yes, go ahead,” he finally said.
“You’re going to come to Arizona. I’m in the desert. The address isn’t going to be listed on any GPS, but if you buy a map, you should be able to find it. It’s in the Sonoran Desert, to the south, and there’s nothing around for a hundred miles in either direction. You take I-10 for a 150 miles west of Phoenix, and then you’ll see a dirt road that pulls off. It’s the only one you’re going to see, Christian. You take it, and you’ll dead end into me. The address is 46 State Route 12. Do you have all that?”
“You heard him?” Christian said to the imaginary person. Another pause, and then to Luke, “Yes. I’ve got it.”
“Good. Now throw the phone out. I’ll see you soon.”
Luke hung up and looked at the man below him. “Christian will be here soon, Dr. Canonine. I told you, he’ll decide your fate. Can you please try holding it together for just a few more days?”
The doctor cried out, rolling over on his side and bringing his legs up to his stomach.
Luke looked on for another second and then turned back to the rest of the room. He had a few more days to prepare.
It was time to go downstairs. Luke didn’t bother locking the front door. If the doctor ran off, fine.
The building was small, but Luke hadn’t purchased it for what lay above ground. The structure had been built by doomsday preppers,
at least that’s what Luke was told. It certainly looked to be the case.
Luke walked to what had once been a bedroom, the only other room on this level. It was empty, a single window on the left letting in sunlight. The middle of the floor contained a door that led to the basement. Luke hadn’t gone to it yet; he’d been feeling lazy, plus he’d had to deal with Canonine’s constant yapping. Now, though, the time had come to prepare.
Luke leaned over the door. He grabbed the handle sitting in its middle and pulled, his back and arm flexing simultaneously. He walked backward, the door giving way slowly to his strength and revealing the secrets that lay beneath.
Luke put the door to the side and looked at the hole in the center of the room. Darkness resided beneath, a single staircase standing before him that would lead to Christian’s eventual glory.
Luke walked down the stairs and into the darkness. He didn’t need light to show him what to do.
Christian rubbed his eyes and then blinked. He did the same motion twice more. He looked out the front window.
This is the right place, he thought. It is. You know it is.
He thought he was looking at the house he grew up in, but he couldn’t be sure. Nothing seemed real anymore, certainly not what he was actually doing. Some part of him—though how much and where it actually lived couldn’t be determined—understood that he was about to go inside his mother’s house with a gun, and tell her to climb in the back of a moving truck.
“Christian.”
He looked over to the seat next to him, expecting to see another dead person, but instead Melissa was there. His psychiatrist from years ago. How long had it been since he last saw her? A silly question, given he couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten.
“Stop this now,” Melissa said. She didn’t look at him, but stared down the street to his mother’s house. “This isn’t you. None of this is. You’ve had a break from reality and you need professional help. Understand what you’re about to do, okay? You’re going to your mother, kidnapping her, and then you’re going to take her to Luke Titan. There is no freedom in any of this. There’s no salvation. There’s no covenant. There is only Titan. There is only his insane desires, brought on by childhood trauma. You need to see all of this clearly, before you step out of the truck. He is not fighting God and he isn’t bringing you to a path of glory. He’s fighting demons from his past, just like everyone else you’ve come across at the FBI.”
Someone knocked on Christian’s window, causing him to jump and jerk around.
“Get out” Tommy said. “We’re finding Luke. You owe me that. You let him go.”
Christian turned and looked back at the passenger seat, but Melissa was gone. The other was in her place. “He’s right, if for the wrong reasons. We need to reunite with him. It’s what all of this is about.”
Christian stared out the front window. His mother’s house was a quarter mile down the road; he could see it on the left.
“Do you think the FBI is watching her?”
That was Bradley Brown, having replaced the other.
“It’s a possibility. Especially if they’re on to you.”
Christian hadn’t thought about that. What else was he missing? They most definitely could be watching. Hell, probably were.
“No,” Tommy said, still outside the truck. “If they were, you’d already be arrested. You’re a moving truck sitting on the same fucking road as her home. Look up and down the street. Do you see anyone? Any other cars here?”
Christian did as Tommy said, using his side mirrors to see behind him. There were no cars at the curbs, either marked or unmarked.
“They’re looking for you, but they haven’t gotten here yet. They will, though, for sure, but you and I both know the FBI and local law enforcement don’t fan out quickly enough. Get in there and get her.”
Christian stared at the red slash on Tommy’s neck, moving like a second mouth when he spoke—opening and closing as if mocking Christian.
Tommy was right. Bradley had been smart to think about it, but Tommy was still right. The FBI wasn’t here yet, nor were the cops. If he was going to get her, he needed to do it now.
He opened the truck door, Tommy disappearing as he did, though Christian didn’t notice at all.
He felt the pistol pressing against his back as he walked down the street to kidnap the woman who had given him life.
Patricia Windsor’s face changed dramatically as she opened the door. She had, of course, looked through the peephole and saw her son standing there. A smile immediately crossed her face, and she unlocked the deadbolt, then twisted the knob. Even as this happened though, her brain was analyzing the image she’d seen on the stoop.
Her smile dropped as she recognized the stress on her son’s face.
The door opened and he stood before her. His eyes were red and his face haggard, pale.
“Christian?” she asked.
He looked down at her feet. “I need you to come with me.”
“Okay,” she said. “Can you tell me what’s wrong first?”
Christian looked up, but past her, over her right shoulder. He shook his head, but Patricia got the distinct feeling that he wasn’t doing it for her.
There’s no one behind you, silly woman, she thought.
“We need to go now,” Christian said. He reached to the back of his pants, and when his hand returned, it was holding a gun.
Patricia’s breath caught in her throat. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came.
“Let’s go, Mom,” he said.
And then breath finally left her lungs and Patricia laughed. “You’ve never needed a gun to get me to do anything, Christian, and you don’t need one now. Put that thing away.”
Christian stared at her for a second. She didn’t know what was wrong with her son, but the person looking at her wasn’t fully him. She didn’t need to ask a hundred questions to realize this had to do with Titan. Whatever that evil man had done, it was still happening, and that’s why Christian was here. This all circled back to Titan, and now her son stared at her, broken, and not completely comprehending what she’d told him.
“Put it away, and I’ll go,” she said again.
His eyes narrowed but the gun slipped back behind his waist.
“I suppose I won’t need my purse.” Patricia stepped out into the sunlight, then turned around and looked at Christian still standing at the door. “Well, are we going?”
The two of them walked down the street side by side, Patricia quickly surmising that they were heading to the moving truck ahead of them. She said nothing and neither did he. She didn’t move in front or behind, but walked as if this was actually her son next to her. Like they were simply going to her car as they always had before. She couldn’t tell what was happening inside Christian’s head, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to walk to her death treating him any differently.
They reached the back of the truck, both still silent.
“I suppose I won’t be riding up front with you?” she asked.
Christian said nothing, only reached for the lock that held the door down. He pulled a key from his pocket and then twisted it inside the lock. He lifted the door and Patricia peered in.
Her eyes first went to a man in the back, red faced and doing his best to scream. She hadn’t heard his voice when the door was closed, but she could now—muffled by something shoved in his mouth. His head looked as red as a tomato, and Patricia immediately thought he might have a stroke.
“Oh my God, Christian,” she whispered.
“Get in,” he said.
Patricia didn’t move, but looked around the rest of the truck. She saw Veronica, and his former boss, Alan Waverly.
“Get in,” he said again. She felt his hands on her then, grabbing her waist and trying to shove her up.
Patricia, without a thought, turned around and slapped him across the face. “You keep your hands off me, Christian. I’ll get in. You don’t have to force me to do anythi
ng.”
Christian’s face was turning a bright red from her hand. Tears were in his eyes, though Patricia didn’t know if from pain or guilt. After another second, she turned around and climbed into the back of the truck. Christian followed, looking down as he did. A thought blazed through Patricia’s mind, You can kick him in the face and right off this vehicle. You might be able to save everyone.
She banished it.
Patricia had slapped her son, but that had been an instinctual reaction to his hands on her. She wouldn’t hurt him, no matter what it was he wanted to do to her.
He climbed up and looked at her again.
“Sit against the wall.”
Patricia did, and looked on as he grabbed a roll of tape from the floor. She watched as he worked, knowing that he was vulnerable, that while he was dealing with her feet, she could have shattered his nose. Patricia didn’t even twitch.
And then, she was fully bound, just like the other three people in the truck.
“I’m sorry,” Christian said. The tears that had flooded his eyes outside the truck were now falling down his cheeks.
Patricia’s heart broke, but she held her face firm. “I love you, Christian. You don’t have to do this. Any of it.”
Her son looked at her for another second, then turned and hopped out of the truck. He slammed the door home without looking again.
“Hey, Veronica,” Patricia said, her face finally breaking and tears filling her own eyes.
“Hi, Mrs. Windsor,” Veronica said, smiling a sad smile.
“Does anyone know what’s happening?” she asked, looking around.
“You haven’t seen the news?” Alan Waverly said from the other side of the truck. He was alone on his side. Patricia sat next to Veronica, and Veronica to the awful Senator who was closest to the back wall.
“I stay away from it on purpose.”
“Well, it hasn’t been good, obviously,” Waverly said. “Christian … I don’t know how to say it. You saw him, Mrs. Windsor. He isn’t well. He kidnapped all of us. I imagine that he’s a wanted man by now. I’d hoped the FBI or police would have gotten here before we did. No one has, though?”
“No. Christian was the first visitor I’ve had in days.”
