The Not

by A. R. Braun

  He mused over how the FBI hadn’t believed a word he and Fay had told him.

  We could find out the hard way, Agent Templeton had said.

  Don wondered if they’d try an interrogation that lasted all night until his wife was so sleep deprived she’d agree to anything.

  The beads of sweat that had started to poke their way out of his pores in the hotel room had turned into genuine perspiration that slicked his whole body. They’d had him in here for hours, and to paraphrase that old Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers song, the waiting indeed was the shittiest part. Don trembled. It wasn’t unpleasant in the space as far as circulation was concerned. The vents near the ceiling poured in an ample supply of air. No, the thought of himself being subjected to torturous interrogation — or worse yet, his wife being subjected to it — that brought the sweat.

  Though he tried to keep his mind blank, all Don could think about was how the FBI suspected not only that he and his group had killed Pastor Jerry and his wife, but also had a hand in what happened to the three cities in New Mexico. That meant Don and Fay would be shown no mercy.

  I’m going to Guantanamo Bay with ISIS! Oh, my God, what if what happened in the first Harold and Kumar sequel becomes reality? Don coughed, almost puked. His gag reflex had started, though it had stayed at bay a couple years after having all four wisdom teeth out.

  What am I going to do now?

  “He-he-he-he-he-he-he.”

  Shut up, Pishuni. You’re probably the reason my wife and I are here.

  “I can break you out, paleface. Just agree to worship me.”

  Don shook his head.

  I won’t give into that beast’s demands. The bastard took out Santa Fe, the prettiest city I’ve ever seen in my life, not to mention the other two.

  Don tapped his fingers on the table, pounding out an insane drumroll that didn’t rival the triplets his heart was doing. Though he would do what was right, that didn’t make the prospect of the good cop, bad cop shit that could follow… would follow if he didn’t find some way out of this room, any easier.

  If they didn’t get in here soon, he was going to go crazy.

  ***

  Chewing her nails, Fay sat in a similar room, her anxiety so bad her body was wracked with spasms. She’d gone beyond trembling a half hour ago, and since she guessed her time in here to round out at three hours, a full-fledged nervous breakdown ripped at her mind. Fay tried deep breathing to calm herself. It didn’t work. She remembered how, in jail, they’d woken Jodi Arias up at 1:00 in the morning before her trial. Sleep-depriving her. Trying to make her crack. Would they do the same to her, even though she wasn’t guilty?

  Fay’s mind seemed to swarm with insects, and she rose to pace the floor. She almost wished she’d died at the hands of Pishuni. Somehow, sitting in here waiting to be interrogated was worse. They’d keep her up all night, shouting at her and forcing a confession, she just knew it.

  We could find out the hard way, Agent Templeton had said.

  They’re going to charge us with destroying Santa Fe, Albuquerque and Rio Rancho! Fay thought. The inmates will rape me in prison. They won’t care if I’m married.

  She mused over the huge, hardened lesbians that would look like men (but not down there), just waiting — salivating, even — to get their grubby hands on a pretty young girl. Fay cringed. How would she survive in such an environment?

  I’ll commit suicide! Oh God, I’m going to die!

  Her brain about to go aflame, she dropped into the seat to pray to God for strength. When she finished, her nerves still hadn’t calmed.

  Was relaxing an option in such a place?

  Will I go to prison and hang myself, or will I get the lethal injection?

  She had to get a handle on this situation before she became a complete loony. She fought the timidity, telling herself the Lord wouldn’t give her more than she was able to bear.

  “I’m the lord, you silly paleface. And I can break you out. All you have to do is worship me.”

  There was no way Fay was giving into Pishuni’s demands, not after he’d destroyed those three cities. Her mind traveled back to the FBI’s threat of torture. My pain threshold is wearing thin — I’d crack and lie that I’d helped ISIS. She tried to ignore those thoughts, knowing they’d bring a mental break. Fay kept her mind on the real God and His protection.

  What else could she do?

  No atheists in foxholes. And waiting for the feds in a police interrogation room damn well counts as a foxhole to me.

  Still, her fear ruled her. She continued to totter on the edge of sanity.

  ***

  Rick had had as much as he could take. If it weren’t bad enough for Pishuni to tempt him with those stupid bimbos, twice (Get the message, moron), these FBI needledicks were the last straw. His band — still ticking in his dream — had thrashed the L.A. Forum like no other, and then those suits had pounded on the door and taken him away, with Don, Fay, her mom and her uncle in tow. Rick knew the feds wanted his ass the most because of how he dressed and the way he wore his hair. He also knew that when one killed the inner child, one became a shark. Well, two great whites had him now, and for something he hadn’t even done.

  I won’t stand for this and succumb to fear. It’s an acronym for False Evidence Appearing Real.

  He pounded on the table. His glass of water vibrated, spilling a tiny amount of liquid. Why they’d had him in here for hours was beyond him, but he guessed it to be an intimidation tactic so he’d break down when they came charging in. Yet he stayed calm.

  It’s just a test of faith. I’m not even gonna break a sweat.

  Rick remembered a passage from the Bible, Acts 8:26-8:39, where the apostle Philip had stopped to teach the Ethiopian eunuch what a scripture concerning Isaiah meant, and how that same disciple had appeared in another part of the world soon after. Teleportation, he believed it was called at this moment.

  If he could do it, so can I.

  He folded his hands and lowered his head. “Jesus, I need you now more than ever. These feds will have no mercy on us. They’re going to assume it was our fault that those cities were destroyed, along with the murders of Pastor Jerry and his wife. So, behold their threatenings, and make us disappear and appear at the Econo Lodge beside Don’s car. You translated Phillip the Apostle, do the same for me and this Christian family. Amen.”

  ***

  Don’s mind lurched as a tremor shook his frame. A sense of vertigo made him totter on his feet, but hadn’t he been sitting down?

  He blinked. Don stood before his car — still under the carport at the Econo Lodge — along with Fay, Georgia, Uncle Jim and Rick. Everyone else’s eyes goggled, except for Rick’s, for whatever reason. They cried out with joy as Don yanked at the car keys in his pocket. He looked over his shoulder and noticed Bart, the narkaholic clerk, bug-eyed and picking up the phone.

  Don flipped him off and turned around. He unlocked the vehicle. “Everybody in the car.” He jumped inside and turned off the locks so they could pile in. Fay embraced him while Rick took a seat next to her and slammed the door. Uncle Jim and Georgia scrambled into the backseat.

  “Really?” Rick asked. “You’re flipping people off now?”

  Don fired up the car and tore out of there. “I don’t know how the fuck — oh, sorry, Rick —how the heck we disappeared from the police station, but that was too close for comfort.”

  “Don’t apologize to me,” Rick answered. “It’s God you’re offending.”

  “Right. We’re Christians now. I keep forgetting.”

  Fay’s soft-and-warm frame comforted Don down to the marrow. The sweet scents of her shampoo and conditioner enchanted him. She trembled like a scared kitten.

  “Are you all right, babe?” Don asked.

  She snuggled up to him, her nose rubbing his throat. “I am now.”

  Don told everyone, “Whatever just happened, it’s probably Pishuni wanting us for some other purpose, but who gives a rip? Put your sea
tbelts on. This is going to be a hell of a ride.”

  Rick faced him as Don faked a stop and roared out of town, heading for the Interstate. “It was Jesus Christ. I prayed we’d teleport here. Why would Pishuni do anything for us?”

  “Well, hallelujah for Jesus Christ!”

  “Now we’re fugitives,” Fay whimpered. Her voice was as cracked as a window shattered by a sledgehammer.

  Rick said, “Don’t fret. You’re walking in the light. There’s nothing they can do to you now.”

  As if in defiance to his promise, a black truck rammed into the back of the car.

  “What the fuck?” Don yelled. Again, he was sweating.

  “Don? Christians? Try to remember.” Rick looked over his shoulder. “It’s some big bald guy bearing down on us. I’d put the pedal to the metal if I were you.”

  “Check.” Don did just that, but when he looked in the rearview mirror, the man in the truck was doing the same. “Hold on tight, everyone! I’m going to take some sharp turns!”

  He didn’t even have time to follow GPS’s directions. Don figured they’d reach the edge of town sooner or later. He cranked the wheel with hairpin turns, barely slowing down and — thank God — handling the car like a racer.

  “He’s still on us, man,” Rick cried. “This guy is nuts!”

  Don spied the ramp to the highway, and he put the pedal down. The engine roared like a lion waiting to devour. Not daring to look in the rearview, he rocketed through a red light and barely inched between two semis, then pulled off the highway. Georgia and Fay screamed. Even Uncle Jim shrieked a bit.

  “That ought to lose him,” Don said.

  “I’m afraid not, man,” Rick answered.

  Don looked in the rearview. It was like the man in the truck had a turbo button. They were off the ramp now and on the interstate, but the fiend bore down on them and crashed into the car a couple more times, making everyone cry out. Don fought to keep the vehicle on the road. He almost steered into a ditch twice.

  The man in the truck leaned out the window. “Cocksuckers! I’ll fucking kill you!”

  The nut job zoomed closer and bashed into them again, this time a staggering hit. Don thought the car would roll, but instead, it sped into a ditch, coming to a stop. The air bags deployed, knocking the wind out of him. Georgia and Fay’s screams turned to gasps and pants. The nutbar’s truck veered off the road and stopped just short of the ditch.

  Don fought his way out of the car, telling everyone else to do the same. When he looked at the approaching lunatic, he gaped.

  The madman carried a machete, gleaming in the streetlights like a harbinger of doom.

  Oh, my God. Am I really going to escape the FBI to die like this?

  The nut job picked up his pace but was knocked to the ground after Rick ran as fast as he could, his arms pumping like an Olympiad, and stuck his head into the man’s belly with a wrestling takedown move. Don gasped. Rick leaped to a crouch, and when the insane guy reared the blade back to swing it from a sitting position, Rick slapped the hand that held the machete handle away with his right hand, then straightened up and kicked the weapon out of his hand with his right foot. It sang onto the gravel. Sitting on the man’s stomach, Rick threw a series of lightning-fast punches at the villain’s face — breaking his glasses in the process — and the wacko from hell’s head conked onto the ground. He stopped moving.

  That kid’s a black belt in karate and a boxer and wrestler!

  Georgia, Uncle Jim and Fay cheered as Don clutched his chest and focused on deep breathing, thankful he hadn’t suffered a heart attack. It wasn’t supposed to happen to a man as young as him, but Don’s cousin had suffered from cardiac arrest at twenty-five.

  Rick picked up the blade and rose. He walked back over to the crew and got a hug from Fay and Georgia, plus a pat on the back from Uncle Jim.

  “Good piece of fighting, kid,” Don said.

  “Thanks. I took Okinawan Karate, tae kwon do and boxing for a few years, plus I wrestled in school.” He took a few seconds to catch his breath. “Well, no time to call a tow truck. We’re going to have to take this dude’s ride. Might as well. We’re on the lam, remember?”

  Don squinted at the truck. “Does it have a backseat?”

  Rick ran over and looked in, then jumped up and down. “You bet it does! Come on, everyone! Let’s get out of here before a cop stops us.”

  The city of Pueblo exploded, knocking everyone off their feet. It was a good thing they were outside the city limits. The destruction left a huge black cloud of smoke in its wake, and when that dissipated, the crater resembled a Grand Canyon of doom. So much for Bart and the FBI.

  Rick sprang back to his feet like a cat, then looked their way. “Everyone all right?”

  Shaking, Don forced himself to rise. Uncle Jim got up. Don glanced at the fluttering eyelids of those who lay at his feet. “Everybody seems to be fine.” Don helped Fay up as Uncle Jim did with Georgia. The heat radiating from the hollowed-out city made him feel like stir-fry. Don ran his fingers over his eyebrows, surprised they hadn’t been singed off.

  Pishuni had gotten someone to invoke him over Pueblo, probably the loony who lay on the gravel.

  Rick ripped the truck’s door open. “The dummy left the remote auto starter in the passenger seat! Get your butts over here!”

  Don, Fay, Georgia and Uncle Jim ran toward the vehicle.

  CHAPTER 34

  Rick drove because Don had never driven a stick shift. Fay was asleep against the window. Don couldn’t tell if everyone else was sleeping unless he craned his neck — which he was too tired to do — but the cab had fallen silent. He watched the cars and trucks zooming past him, plus the gorgeous city lights of Colorado Springs. Rick kept the speedometer at seventy-five with cruise control the whole way. They all had their windows cracked. It was too cool outside to turn on the air. Fay’s and Rick’s manes blew in the breeze.

  Don touched Rick’s shoulder. “Kid, you’re a Godsend. I don’t know what we would’ve done if you hadn’t showed up.”

  Rick shrugged, seeming comfortable behind the wheel. “God loves you so he sent me.” Then he sighed. “We’ve got to find a way to stop Pishuni. He’s going to keep destroying every city in America — then the world — if we don’t figure something out.”

  “I’m guessing Pishuni used that crazy guy to kill the pastor and his wife. Afterward, he sent him after us.”

  “I think you’re right.” Rick looked at Don for a few seconds before watching the road. “We’ve got to warn the world not to listen to that wannabe god.”

  A burst of hope shone in Don’s mind for the first time since this whole ordeal. “Oh my God! Rick, you’re a genius!”

  “What’d I say?”

  “You said we’ve got to warn people. If we can let all the atheists in America know that when things start strangely going their way, then a deity shows up wanting favors, to refuse him, we can save the world!”

  Rick seemed to attempt a smile for a couple seconds as he watched the road. “How are we going to do that? Larry King? Why would he believe us?”

  Don did his best to flash a million-dollar grin the kid’s way, but the latter didn’t turn to see it. “What’s the best way to let everyone know about something today?”

  “TV?”

  “No, the Internet!”

  A quad of semis boxed them in. Don flinched.

  Rick didn’t seem afraid. “How do you know everyone will read our blog?”

  “Be careful with those semis around you.”

  “I know — that’s how Rich Mullins died. It happened not far from here, just outside of Peoria. Did you know his nuts were ground up?”

  Don winced. He shook his head..

  “But we’ll go to heaven, remember?” Rick added. “Besides, I think I might be a thrill seeker.” He glanced at Don. “So tell me — how do we drive all traffic to our blog?”

  “You’re going to want to hug me.”

  Rick scowled. “I
’ve not much of a hugger, but fill me in.”

  “When we get to Castle Rock, we’ll hire a hacker.”

  ***

  Pishuni had been soaring after them, but stopped in mid-flight, getting hang time in the air. He was speechless. The deity had been reading Don’s mind, and what he’d just heard emptied all his hope. Duped by mere men? It can’t be! Anxiety raced through him for the first time in months, causing him to tremble and grab his fiery head. And who broke them out of the police station, another Indian god? He suspected Rick might be behind their escape, and that made Pishuni hate him all the more.

  Charles was just now waking up by the side of the road outside Pueblo. The Jesus freaks were almost in Castle Rock.

  What can I do? I don’t have the power to take their freewill. I can’t knock out all the computers unless they invoke me to destroy the world. The Native-American binding spells are too strong.

  He keened into the rainy night.

  If they warn everyone, it’s back to sitting on the mountain, idle. No Indian warrior would even think of calling on me with my reputation. I can’t go back to that boredom, I just can’t.

  His scream brought a violent tempest with softball-size hail that, thanks to how Pishuni had stopped flying, was a storm Don and his gang barely escaped. This brought the deity more grief, and again he shrieked.

  Pishuni almost flew after them, but an idea came to him like a cool drink of anthrax spores, and he soared back to Pueblo with a plan.

  ***

  Charles scratched his head as he stood on the side of the road by Don’s wrecked car in the ditch. His truck was gone and so was the machete. “Goddamn it!”

  Why did The Not forsake me?

  He started to walk back to town, but his eyes goggled at the giant crater lurking where Pueblo used to be.

  The Not landed before him with an earth-shaking thud. Charles had to steady himself to keep from falling, and he shielded his eyes from the god’s blinding wings to preserve his sight.

  Fearful, Charles fell to his knees. “Master.”

  “Fret not,” the near-deafening voice of eons told him as the deity grinned through serrated teeth. “Report the truck stolen, and your adversaries who overcame you will go to jail where they can do no more damage. I will deliver another ride to you. What do you want? A Ferrari? Lamborghini?”