by Kozinn, Nat
"You sure you’re okay?" Sarah asks.
I realize I've been standing perfectly still for about fifteen seconds.
"Just giving you some more awkward humor," I say and walk off.
#
Although I speed through the rest of the day as fast as I can, it still seems to take forever. I can never wait for work to end, but it’s on a whole new level today. Still, having to be patient for five more hours is worth it. If the Mr. Newman knows how to find The Beast, I might have to stakeout his nest for hours, or even days until I see an opportunity to get the drop on him. That might mean more missed work. I don’t need to pile disappearing in the middle of the day on top of that. Besides, I still have about 92 hours until I have to meet The Beast in front of the church. A few more hours at work wouldn’t kill me, I decide.
As soon as Dr. Olsen dismisses me, I hustle to the Slug Station. I don't care that I'm walking so fast it looks weird. The train comes, and I zone out the whole ride to Robertson Station. I don't need any more time to plan or ponder. I need to talk to Mr. Newman. I'll figure out my next step after that.
People waste their time thinking about events over and over again before they happen. The anxiety sends many people to early graves. I don't do anxiety. I worry about a problem enough to plan for it, and then I don't think about it again until I need to. I remember anxiety from when I was a kid. I don't miss it.
When the Slug pulls into the station, I'm the first one waiting to get off. I scan the rooftops as I walk and stretch my hearing as far as it can go. I listen for the pitter-patter of The Beast's feet, but I don't hear any. When I get to the corner of Robertson and Guthrie, I have to stop my body from continuing on to Becky's house. Not today.
Instead, I turn and double-time it to Airdrome Street. Becky told me her church was there. The street is clear. There's only a Walter silently sweeping the sidewalk. That's new, they don't usually make it to the slums, but it’s about time. The streets out here are filthy. Since there’s no one to see me, I relax my facial muscles and put on my old man disguise. I think Mr. Newman will be more intimidated by the vigilante than some kid he argued with at dinner.
The Cabotist Church is inside what used to be an elementary school auditorium. The rest of the school collapsed after the Plagues. Only the auditorium remained, and with just a few modifications they were able to make it into a passable church. It isn't pretty, but what is around here?
As I approach the church, I can hear Mr. Newman talking from inside. He's in the middle of a sermon. I listen as I head in and stand in the back.
"I want to close tonight with a subject that might be a little controversial. Some of you might believe that our faith prohibits us from criticizing Chosen Sons, but this is not the case. The Lord made the Chosen Sons so they would be closer to His image, but the Chosen are not perfect. If they were, they would be the Almighty Himself. They are individuals who can be flawed, the same as you or me. Sometimes, service to the Chosen Sons means pointing out these flaws.
"We all agree that the Chosen live as slaves today. What you might not realize is that the Chosen themselves share some of the blame for their servitude. They are all guilty of complacency, if nothing else. If the Chosen united, they could throw off the shackles with ease. The government may put on a show that they can control the Chosen with their blood tests and special agents, but deep down we all know that is not enough to keep the Chosen down. After all, what is an officer with a gun to a man who can topple a mountain?
"The Forgotten Sons rely on an alternate method to control the Chosen: guilt. They make the Chosen feel guilty over Cabot's Revelation. They make Chosen children feel like they are responsible for every death Cabot caused. Never mind that Cabot did what he did for the Lord, or that those children are no more guilty than anyone of Roman descent is for Carthage or every American is for the bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki.
"The Chosen must reject this guilt. It is not theirs to carry. Once the guilt goes, the shackles shall soon follow. Now, I know the Forgotten Sons are to blame for this as well. If more Chosen had been able to read the work of our savior Cabot, then the Chosen would know the guilt is false, and they would claim their thrones as kings of the earth.
"And that is where it falls to us. On you, and me, and our countless brothers around the globe who work tirelessly to share with anyone, Chosen or human, the message of God's new prophet, Cabot. We're making a difference too, of that much you can be certain. The Chosen will take their rightful place as kings of the earth. It is simply a matter of time."
Mr. Newman finishes and he's looking right at me, even though I’m in my old man disguise. I guess that answers the question of whether The Beast and Mr. Newman know each other. I wait as the congregation makes its way out. Mr. Newman makes eye contact with me and nods his head, signaling that we should head back into what must be his office. An elderly woman stops him.
"It was such a lovely sermon today, pastor," the elderly woman says.
"Thank you, Mrs. Benet. I hope you found something useful in it," Mr. Newman replies.
"I sure did. It reminded me of my son Patrick. He was such a scaredy-cat growing up. When Patrick was a boy, we absolutely had to leave a nightlight on. That was back when we all had electricity. He grew out of that. He's a good Cabotist, my Patrick. He works hard and tithes all he can. I tell him he has to eat more. He has to be strong to keep earning money for the Chosen Sons. He works on a fishing boat..."
"Mrs. Bennet, you know I'm always happy to hear about your son, but today I'm going to have to cut that pleasure short. The Lord has work for me to do," the Mr. Newman says and looks to me.
Ms. Bennet follows his eyes, then looks down at the D tattooed on my hand.
"Oh, I see, I won't keep you. Please get to your work." Mrs. Bennet turns to head out.
She stops as she passes me and gives the best curtsey her old body can manage. "Your Grace," she says with all the conviction in the world, and then continues her hobble out of the church.
Mr. Newman leads me back into his office. I think it was a locker room when this was a high school. I can still make out a faint hint of body odor that no amount of cleaning could ever remove, even though the lockers are long gone.
There’s a desk with three chairs. This is where he meets with his parishioners. This is where he tells crying mothers and fathers to tithe more to the church, even as their children go hungry. He motions for me to sit. I follow along. I should start with being civil.
I sit down and wait for the Mr. Newman to do the same. He looks nervous. He's fidgety and sweaty. Maybe he's scared of me, or maybe he's hot from delivering a sermon and his legs are tired from standing so long. Why doesn't he sit? He's waiting for me to ask him, but I'm not going to. Let him keep sweating.
“Why did you come here, Gavin?” he asks.
“Considering you know who I am, I bet you know why I’m here. I’m looking for the person who told you I am the vigilante,” I say.
“It is time to stop this foolishness. You need to go home and stay there. The Beast is far too dangerous. If you keep after him, he’s going to kill you and God knows how many other people. You need to stay away from him,” Mr. Newman says sternly. He’s used to people who eat up every word he spits out.
“So now you care about all the people he’s going to kill? Is that why you haven’t told anyone about him? I didn’t come here for your advice. I came here for you to tell me how to find him.”
“Unless you are truly ready to swear off your old life and join up with him on his killing sprees, he’s going to kill you. The only reason you are still alive is because he knows it’s a sin for him to kill Chosen Sons. But he’s sinned before, Gavin, and he’ll do it again if you corner him. You have to forget about her, it’s too late.”
“Wait, what do you mean, ‘forget about her’?” I say.
I can see him hesitate. He doesn’t want to tell me, but he knows he has to. If he says what I think he’s going to say, he’s r
ight to be afraid. I stand up out of my chair and tower over him.
“Becky. He has Becky,” he says while trembling. “I’m sorry. He made me tell him about her. He was going to kill me. He would have found her anyway. I didn’t know what to do. The police would never listen to a Cabotist pastor, especially about something so crazy…”
He keeps making excuses, but I don’t listen. The Beast has Becky. What does that monster want with her? I form a few quick theories in my head. All of them are horrible. I turn off the part of my brain that wants to shut down in a combination of terror, fear, panic, and shame. I don’t need emotions now. Right now, I need to find Becky. I need to find The Beast.
Mr. Newman is still speaking, but he’s not saying what I want to hear. I lift him up off the ground by his throat.
“You need to tell me how I can find The Beast, now!” I yell. I relax my grip on this throat so he can answer.
“Griffith Park, he’s in Griffith Park. He wanted me to tell you,” he spits out. I drop him to the ground.
“Don’t do it, Gavin. He’s too strong. There’s nothing you can do to save her. There’s nothing anyone can do. Even if somehow you got the police to believe you, he’d just kill all of them and then Becky. He is the fury of our Lord made real on this earth. All you can do is stay out of his way!” he says from the floor.
He has to yell at the end because I’ve already run past the door.
24
My Chosen Sons will be few in number. It is their duty to their Lord to go forth and multiply. My Chosen Daughters must bear as many children as they are able, and my Chosen Sons must spread their seed far and wide. Chosen Sons may bed as many Forgotten Daughters as they wish, but they can love and wed only their fellow Chosen.
Chosen Sons: 30
The Beast steps out onto the roof of the Cabotist church. He is angry. His howls fill the streets. Could it be true? Could Gavin really be a sinner? Could he really love a Forgotten Daughter? The stupid boy. Not just stupid, Gavin is challenging The Beast. The Beast pounds his chest.
No, it can’t be that. The Beast proved his dominance on the roof. He had shown Gavin who was stronger. It is the girl’s, Becky’s, fault. She poisoned Gavin's mind to keep him from accepting Cabot. The Beast will smash her, smash anyone who keeps him from getting what he wants. Kill Becky! Kill her, kill them all! The Beast pounds a chimney on the roof to smithereens.
The Beast calms himself down. He cannot be like this. He has to keep control. This is all part of God’s plan. He is testing The Beast. God wants to make sure The Beast has learned to control himself. The Beast needs to prove that he is safe to live with his own kind.
He can’t kill Becky, yet. He has a plan. The pastor helped him come up with it. The old man was pretending to help out of devotion to the Lord. The Beast could smell that it was really fear that motivated the pastor, but The Beast is fine with that. If the pastor is afraid, The Beast can count on the old man to do his part. The Beast just needs to keep control and do his part. He has to get Becky to Griffith Park, alive. The park is abandoned, safe from prying eyes and police officers. The observatory there has a perfect view of the Metro Center. It will help The Beast convince Gavin of the error of his ways.
It takes The Beast just a few leaps to cover the five blocks between the church and Becky's house. The Beast knocks on the door. He struggles to remain calm. A burly older man answers the door.
"Hello, you must be Becky's father, Mike. It sure is nice to meet ya. I was wondering if Becky is in? I got a few questions for her," The Beast says.
After opening his door to a nightmare, the man stumbles a moment, but he manages to push through the fear and gather himself rather quickly. This is not a monster. This is a Chosen Son. The Lord made him.
"You honor me with your presence, Your Grace. Please, come in. Can I get you anything? I would consider it a blessing for you to eat or drink in our home," Mike says.
"Isn’t that nice. I didn't think anyone out here had any manners," The Beast says as he struggles to fit his massive frame through the doorway. "A glass of water if it ain't too much trouble, and call your daughter down. I can smell her, upstairs.
"What do you want with her?" Mike asks.
"I am doing the Lord’s work. That is all you need to know. Now call her. Things might get ugly if I have to go get her myself," The Beast replies.
"Of course, I want to serve the Chosen any way I can. Becky, someone wants to talk to you!" Mike yells, trying to conceal his fear. "Excuse me a moment, I’ll get your water," he adds and disappears into the kitchen.
Becky comes down the stairs, a big smile on her face. The smile turns to horror as she sees it's The Beast, not Gavin, waiting for her.
"Becky? I've got to talk to ya. Do you know Gavin Stillman?" The Beast asks.
She answers with a scream which draws Mike out of the kitchen. He’s got a butcher’s knife in one hand and a glass of water in the other. He throws the glass into The Beast’s face. The glass shatters sending shards all over The Beast’s face.
“Becky run!” Mike yells and charges at The Beast.
Mike sinks his big butcher’s knife into The Beast’s side. The creature howls in pain.
Becky runs by the stunned creature and makes it out the door. Mike tries to pulls the knife out of The Beast’s side, but the blade is stuck.
The Beast shakes the shards of glass out of his eyes then turns his attention to Mike, who is still trying to pull the knife out of the creature. The Beast grabs the older man’s arm tightly, then yanks and twists, ripping the arm out of the socket and off Mike's body. The tough old man collapses to the ground.
“Wasn't that silly. If you just kept being a good Cabotist for another minute, you coulda gone to heaven. Now you're gonna have to answer to the Lord for what you done," The Beast says.
He heads out of the door and sees Becky running down the street. She’s running as fast as she can, she’s already got a half a block lead. It doesn’t matter. The Beast could catch up to her with a fifty block head start.
It takes The Beast less than ten seconds to overtake her and pick her by her hair. He’s shaking with rage. Becky is screaming. He covers her mouth while he talks.
“Quiet down! You know you had this coming. You know God forbids love between the Chosen and Forgotten. You are supposed to have his child, and he is supposed to move on. That’s how God wants it,” The Beast says.
When he finishes speaking, he takes his hand off her mouth.
"Help! Help!" Becky screams.
The Beast responds by sinking a single claw into her throat, poking a hole in her windpipe. Becky's screams turn to hollow moans. The Beast throws Becky over his shoulder. She struggles and beats on his back, but it is no use.
“Relax, we’re just going to the park,” The Beast says.
25
The purpose of this bill is the authorization of spending for the construction of a high-speed rail to facilitate transportation in the wake of the massive fossil fuel shortage caused by the terrorist Cabot. The bill designates The Unified Logistics Technology and Research Applications Corporation (Ultracorps) as the organization responsible for the construction, maintenance, and administration of the rail system.
Preamble: Get America Moving Again Act of 1989
Pedestrians stare at me as I run down the street, but I don't care. Let them wonder about the seventy-year-old man running through their neighborhood like Jesse Owens at the Olympics. Slowing down is not an option. I have to get to Becky.
It takes me less than a minute to cover the five blocks between the Cabotist church and Becky's house. I run faster than I thought I could run. I can feel the emotional centers of my brain wanting to activate. If I let it, my mind would experience a mix of panic, fear, guilt, and anger. I push the emotions away. Feelings are not going to get me to Becky's house any faster.
If I was a normal person, I would be thinking about how this is all my fault. I'd think about how if I had just listened to Becky and e
veryone else and stopped trying to be a hero, she wouldn't be in trouble. I’d think about how if I could only consider someone besides myself, I would have realized the danger I was putting her in.
I slow down as I get to Becky's block and start scanning the rooftops. I finger the gun in my waistband. I want to be ready if The Beast tries to drop down on me, but the rooftops are clear. I approach Becky's door. I stop and listen for anything out of the ordinary. I hear nothing. I knock on the door.
After ten seconds with no answer and no sounds of any kind coming from inside, I try to the door. As soon as the doorknob turns, I know something is wrong. No one leaves their front door unlocked in this neighborhood, even if they're home.
The copper twang of blood fills my nose as soon as I step into the house. I suppress the crippling panic my body wants to feel, the fear that it’s Becky's blood I smell. The human mind really has some useless responses.
It doesn't take long to find the source of the blood. Mike is lying dead in the kitchen surrounded by a pool of it. His right arm is missing. It looks like he bled to death. I’m ashamed to admit that I hadn’t really thought about him until now. My mind was focused on Becky. I rush upstairs and search for Becky, but I can't find any sign of her. The pastor was right, The Beast took her.
I need to get her back, and it looks as if I have to walk into The Beast's trap in Griffith Park in order to do that. I head out towards the Slug, running at the same breakneck pace as before. I knock over a Walter on the way. I don't let myself feel bad about it.
#
>>>Gavin do not do this.
I shouldn't have accepted the call. I knew what she was going to say, I just had to find out if I was right. I don't know how Nita always knows what I'm up to, but she knows. At least if I talk to her, I might figure out how she plans to stop me.
