by Corey Brown
But almost a week has past and Cody is getting worse by the moment. His lunatic ravings seem to grow wilder as each day passes. So okay, fine, the Yaw had been destroyed, the balance of the universe had been preserved and T'biah had found forgiveness but what about Cody? Hadn’t God promised Todd that he would take care of Cody?
And where was God now, had he forgotten that promise to Todd? Derek exhales hard, puffing out his cheeks. Well, maybe God isn’t to blame, that doesn’t feel quite right. But someone is to blame.
Derek’s brain registers the ringing phone just before the call goes to voicemail. He picks up the handset.
“Agent Simmons.”
“Derek?”
“Hey, Gus. What’s up, how’s Cody?”
There is moment of silence then Gus says, “I thought maybe you could tell me. But I’m guessing you can’t.”
“What do you mean?”
“You ain’t seen him or talked to him?”
Derek frowns. “Not for two days. I’m sorry I haven’t been there lately, but I’m jammed up here at the office. I planned to see him today after lunch.”
Derek hears Gus take a deep breath, hears him expel it in a grunt.
“Might be a waste of time,” Gus says. “Cody’s gone.”
“What? Gone where?”
“Don’t know, I was hoping you did.”
“Wait,” Derek says. “You don’t know or no one knows? What about Jamie or the doctors?”
“No one knows. Jamie saw him last night but now he’s gone. She ain’t left his side since… well, since everything happened. She’s been sleeping in a goddamned hospital chair every night. Todd and I brought her meals, and just when I get her to spend a night with us at the hotel, Cody disappears.”
“Wait. How could he disappear? What about the restraints?”
“Didn’t stop him,” Gus says.
“Somebody cut them?”
“No, that ain’t what happened. You believe it? Two inch leather straps ripped up like they was thread. Those straps was torn apart.”
Derek swallows. “Jesus, you’re kidding me. How’s Jamie handling it?”
“Like shit,” Gus says. “Between losing her momma and now this, I’m afraid she’ll be the next one locked up in the goddamned nuthouse.” Gus pauses, inhales through his nose. “Funny thing though,” he says. “Todd ain’t said a word, like it don’t bother him none. One doctor says he’s in denial, whatever the hell that means.”
Denial my ass, Derek thinks. Todd knows something.
“You call the local cops?” Derek says.
“Uh-huh. But they ain’t saying much, I don’t think they know much.”
Derek sighs, wonders where this will lead. “Okay, I’m on my way,” he says through another sigh, feeling defeated. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Tell Jamie to hold tight, we’ll find Cody.”
“You can come,” Gus says. “In fact, I kind of want you to check this out, but we ain’t gonna be here. I gotta get Jamie back home.”
Derek hesitates, nods to himself. “I understand. I’ll call you as soon as I know anything.”
Derek breaks the connection, places the phone back in its cradle. He shakes his head. What a mess, what a fucking mess.
«»
Under a brilliant, full moon with arms clasped behind his back, David stands in the garden watching the house. He inhales deeply, takes in the sweet scent of moist dirt mixed with flowers. Mentally, he identifies by name the Fringed Gentian, Wild Blue Aster, and Macbridea growing at his feet.
David studies the building. A few security lights punctuate the grounds, splashing illumination here and there but the first floor is mostly dark, save for the occasional incandescent yellow from an interior lamp. The lower level is dim but most of the second floor windows glow brightly. Surrounded by immense live oaks and bathed in lunar light the plantation-style mansion seems a grand fortress.
David shakes his head, still fascinated by his state of being, a living human, flesh and blood, and at the same time, completely spirit. He can touch and see and smell, and he can travel the length of the universe, any universe, in a heartbeat. Sawyer’s house might be a fortress but he would be able to pass through its walls with ease.
She is inside, maybe with her husband, maybe alone. David stiffens, pulls his shoulders back. How will Sawyer handle this, how should he go about presenting himself? To Sawyer, David Carlson is long gone, he is dead, a thing of the past, a memory. How can he tell her everything that has happened, how can he tell Sawyer who he is, what he’s become?
A delicate wind riffles the fringe of David’s leather longcoat, frayed and scuffed. His red and white Keds are dirty, the left shoe has a hole near the heel. He closes his eyes and inhales again. Now, instead of flowers David catches her scent. It is just an undertone, a gentle fragrance that rides the wind in a subtle, inviting way. The aroma is almost impossible to detect but it is Sawyer, no doubt about it. And she is alone.
How ironic, David thinks. Of all the women he could fall headlong in love with, Sawyer is not only married but he had died in her arms, died making love to her on their first date. Talk about embarrassing. And in those foggy hours while he was somewhere between life and death, when he was not dead and not alive, Sawyer had tried to be a friend to Suzanne. That was endearing, almost to the point of pain.
It is strange how they, he and Sawyer, had met that day on the airplane, but David understands why he feels so close to her. She is lovely and honest and kind. She is real. Still, it is maddening how the events that led to his very existence prevent him from being with her. But he is lucky. Unlike T'biah, he will be able to take Sawyer in his arms whenever he needs her. That is, if she will let him. It is a bittersweet proposal and David knows the pitfalls of living out this new spiritual life while trying to keep one foot on earth. And will she even want to see him, especially after what he is about to tell her?
David tries to relax but, strangely, the effort is at odds with what he’s become. He has battled fierce demons, tracked his twin across six galaxies, almost hooked him in the Shebaal Province before losing the trail some thirteen thousand light years away and returning home. All of that besides standing in the very presence of God and, still, he is nervous about seeing Sawyer. David shakes his head, he feels like a kid on prom night.
David thinks about that, rewinding his thoughts and feelings. Then he senses something. He looks around, trying to understand why he suddenly feels so edgy. He is no longer prom-night nervous, but rather unsettled, anxious. David breathes in sharply, catches, once again, Sawyer’s aroma…and smells something else.
Sawyer Clark blots her wet hair with a towel, tipping her head to one side as she walks into her bedroom. Steam boils out of the bathroom behind her. Except for her open silk robe, she is naked. Draping the towel over a chair back, Sawyer pulls the robe closed. She smiles to herself, remembering David’s touch, remembering the feel of his arms wrapped around her body.
Something makes her pick up the remote and mute the television. She stands perfectly still, listening to the sounds of the house. Down the hall is the faint sound of classical music. Every night, in his bedroom, her husband would listen to Danzi or Haydn or like tonight, Chopin. A sip of brandy, one last look at the Wall Street Journal, classical music; his routine never varied.
Sawyer rubs her stomach, she has not told Robert and David confirmed this was the right course to follow. Still, she will have to tell her husband sometime. And what will Robert think when she starts to show? Sawyer wonders how Robert’s routine, how everything will change when he finds out she is pregnant, carrying a stranger’s child. Well, not quite a stranger but certainly a man of the world, someone on a quest.
“Sawyer.”
She spins toward the sound, her mouth opening into a wide smile.
“You came back,” Sawyer says.
David frowns. “What do you mean?”
She crosses the room and wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him.
> “Silly, you told me you’d visit me as often as you could. I just didn’t expect you back again tonight.” Her eyes sparkle with a playful gleam. “Did you come back for more?”
David bends forward as if to kiss her but instead smells the skin of her neck, smells her wet hair. A soft, misty scent of shampoo mingles with bath soap, mingles with the smell of his twin.
“How long ago was I here?” David says.
“Oh, you are in a mood, aren’t you?” Her southern drawl plays with his senses just like their first night together. But then she goes rigid. She backs away from him, her eyes wide and a hand to her mouth. Her fingers are just as David remembered them, elegant, crowned by perfectly manicured nails. Even the color is the same, an eye-catching red.
“What did he tell you?” David says.
Sawyer swallows, struggling not to panic. “I…I don’t know what you mean.”
“Sawyer, listen to me. I promise I won’t hurt you. I won’t even touch you, but I have to tell you something.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t want to hear it,” Sawyer says. She points at the door, her hand shaking. “I want you to leave. Now.”
David nods. He knows the only way to gain her trust is to not frighten her. Still, he has to find some way of proving who he is, proving that he is the good guy. But how? Discussing something intimate, something only the two of them had shared would be a waste of time because all three of them had shared those intimate moments. The twin would have heard everything that was said, felt every touch, smelled every scent.
“I’ll go in a moment. But----”
“No, I want you to leave now,” Sawyer says, interrupting, her voice rising, taking on an edge
David searches his memory of their time together in the French Quarter. There has to be something, some way to prove his identity. He stares at Sawyer then removes a phone from his longcoat, an old rotary model. Puke Green.
“Suzanne knows everything,” David says, placing the phone on the dresser. “Call her.”
Sawyer frowns at the gesture, looks at the phone, looks at David. “You keep old telephones in your coat?”
David smiles, it is sad and cheerless. “You wouldn’t believe what I keep in here. So, tell me, when did you get pregnant? It was not in your hotel room, not when we were together.”
Sawyer hesitates. She still wants this imposter, this twin, to leave, but his tone, the statement catches her off guard. “Of course it was,” Sawyer says.
David steps closer and Sawyer backs away, her calf bumping against the queen-sized Shaker bed. Her legs feel like they will give out at any moment.
“Did he come to you after you left New Orleans?” David says.
The memory of the airplane lavatory flares in Sawyer’s mind. For an instant, those wonderful sexual feelings course through her again. The recollection is so intense that David can see her skin flush, he can feel her body heat rising.
Suddenly jealous, David turns away, trying to conceal his emotions. How can she feel that good about the twin, how could she feel so close to him, so connected? David knows it is stupid to think this way, Sawyer couldn’t possibly know the twin would visit her.
Then the sense of what had really happened struck David like a blow to the face. Sawyer had unknowingly consented to sex with a total stranger. It had not been the two of them together. Sawyer had been with the twin, she had succumbed thinking the twin was her real lover, she had been raped.
The thought breaks David’s heart. She had been violated and didn’t even know it. Worse, she took pleasure in the memory. Bitter tears roll onto his cheeks. I did this, David thinks. I did this to her. It’s my fault. I am my father’s son.
David sees how both he and T'biah had brought pain and sorrow to the women they loved, the unintended consequence of their sin.
David sighs, wipes at his wet cheek. He can’t do this, not right now. He cannot tell Sawyer she is carrying a demon’s baby. He cannot tell her she’d made love to a creature from Hell and that the devil’s seed was now alive in her womb. Even if he could expose the truth, she would never believe him. But David knows he will have to find a way to make her trust him.
He turns to leave but Sawyer catches his arm, scrutinizes his face. Only a few hours ago, David had told her to expect this one, the twin. He had warned the twin would try to convince her, maybe force her, to give up the baby. David had told her his twin was rotten to the core and to avoid him if she could. But this display of emotion is unexpected. This David’s feelings are raw and heartfelt and genuine.
“We made love in the airplane,” Sawyer says, her voice raspy, little more than a whisper. “Don’t you remember?”
Her words sting, David winces, frustrated because it was his own twin who had been with Sawyer. David thinks about reminding her of how that would be impossible if he were human. David wants to ask how he could have been in that plane, thirty-thousand feet above the earth, if he were just a man.
Instead, David draws a breath. “We didn’t make love,” he says. “It was my twin. The one you think is me. But I wish I had been there, I wish it had been me.”
Sawyer’s jaw tightens. “I thought it was my David,” she says. “But now I’m not sure. I’m not sure who it was.”
David swallows, tries to break her grip on his arm, and says, “I have to leave.”
But Sawyer doesn’t let go. She looks hard into his eyes. Sawyer considers what she sees, his pain is real. If this is David’s twin and he is as terrible as she’d been lead to believe, would he show this side? Would he even have a side like this?
“How do I know?” Sawyer says, drawing her thumb across David’s cheek, wiping away a tear leaking down his face. “How can I tell who is the real David?”
Desperately wanting to give her an answer, David struggles to say something reassuring, but words fail. Sawyer is not ready; the truth will have to wait. David takes Sawyer’s hand, presses it against his face then kisses her palm.
“Let’s start with this.”
Other Books by Corey Brown
This short story available in print by CreateSpace, an Amazon.com Company, or as an eBook. Both formats can be found on Amazon.com.
