Servant

by J. S. Bailey

  While she waited for him to finish, she decided she had two options left.

  One: She could pray for a swift and painless death for both her and Randy.

  Two: She could pray for a miracle.

  A CRACKING twig gave Bobby a jolt. He whipped his head to the right and saw a white-faced Phil Mason standing yards away with his gun drawn out in front of him. Pine needles clung to the Muse shirt Bobby had lent him as if he’d been crawling through the underbrush at some point since their escape into the woods.

  Phil lowered the gun without saying anything, glanced from side to side, and joined the pair huddled in the gully. “Something’s wrong,” he said in a low voice.

  Randy eyed the gun with revulsion. “You don’t say.”

  “No. I don’t mean this. Bobby, are you the one who called the police?”

  Bobby cleared his throat before speaking, still shaken by Randy’s tale. “I called 911 and told them somebody had been shot. Why?”

  Phil’s forehead furrowed with creases. “When you two went bolting away like a couple of bats out of hell, I thought I should stick around to see what was going to happen. Half of Autumn Ridge’s finest showed up, guns out and all. Some took an interest in your slashed tires.” He shook his head. “They were there for about fifteen minutes. Looked like they were talking to somebody out front. I think some of them went into the house. Then they all just up and left. Nobody got loaded into the ambulance or any of the cruisers. I heard one of the cops laughing like it had all been some misunderstanding.”

  “But I heard a gunshot!” Bobby said, suddenly wondering if his fear had made him misinterpret the situation. He’d been so certain the sound had been a gun—what else could it have been?

  “You’d have been deaf to have missed it,” Phil said. “But when they all left, I started thinking. What exactly did we hear before running out of there?”

  “Father Laubisch and that man were shouting at each other,” Bobby said. “And then when we made it outside someone fired a gun.”

  Phil pretended to examine his own gun. “Suppose I shot you. What would you do?”

  Bobby shivered at the sight of the weapon. “I’d probably pass out if I didn’t die first.”

  Before he could stop the man, Phil marched right up to him and punched him so hard in the arm that Bobby let out a strangled cry. Tears sprang into his eyes. “What was that for?”

  “What did you just do?” Phil pressed, his eyes gleaming.

  “I . . . screamed?”

  “Exactly.”

  The man was nuts.

  “Wait a minute,” Randy said. “Being shot doesn’t exactly tickle. Father Laubisch should have been making some kind of noise.”

  “Not if it was a really good shot,” Bobby said as he massaged his arm. Phil had probably wanted to punch him all along and finally found a decent excuse to do so.

  “But if it had been a good shot,” Phil said, “the coroner would have been called and the emergency crews would still be there. If it had been a bad shot, they would have loaded Father Laubisch into the ambulance and rushed him to the hospital.”

  “So you’re saying he didn’t get shot at all?”

  “That, or he pulled an Obi-Wan Kenobi and vanished the second he died.”

  They all fell silent.

  Something clicked in Bobby’s head. “They faked it.” The man with the gun must have fired it into the ceiling or the floor and told the cops it had been an accident.

  And Father Laubisch would have been there to corroborate it all. His apparent argument with the gunman had only been an act.

  Randy must have been thinking the same thing because his expression morphed from shock into anger. “We need to get out of here.”

  “But we can’t,” Bobby said. “Remember my tires?”

  “I can call a taxi once we get out of these woods,” Phil said.

  “Where are we going after that?”

  A cell phone began to ring, sparing Phil from providing an answer. Randy glanced at his pocket, slid out his phone, and frowned. “It says Unknown Caller.”

  Phil snatched it out of his hand and accepted the call before Randy could object. “Hello?”

  An astounding transformation came over the man’s face. It had been pale to begin with, but the second the caller began to speak, it became whiter than a winter sky.

  He drew the phone away from his ear and hit some buttons. “It’s for you,” he whispered, and passed it back to Randy. “I set it to speaker.”

  “Hello, Randy,” said a garbled male voice.

  “Where did you take Lupe?” Randy demanded.

  “She’s safe right now,” said the voice that could only belong to Graham. Like the face of the fake gunman who had stood on Father Laubisch’s porch, something familiar about it troubled Bobby deeply.

  “I said, where is she?”

  “I’ll get to that. But you have to come alone. Of course you knew that already. If you drag those two peons with you they’ll meet the same fate you do.”

  Bobby turned in a full circle as his eyes scanned the surrounding woods. How did Graham know he and Phil were with Randy? Was he hiding behind a tree watching them?

  Phil must have been thinking along those same lines because he regained a shooter’s stance and made a complete turn as he swept the woods with his gaze.

  Bobby pulled the kitchen knife out of his pocket for lack of anything better to do. It wouldn’t save him in a gunfight, but at least it gave him a few extra ounces of confidence.

  “Where do you need me to go?” Randy asked.

  “Get your friends out of there, and I’ll tell you.”

  Randy gestured for Bobby and Phil to step away. Phil drew back several paces and continued to give the area a visual sweep, and Bobby made a show of scraping his feet in the detritus on the forest floor so it would sound like he was retreating.

  “Okay,” Randy said. “They’re gone.”

  “I don’t believe you. What a nice shirt Phil is wearing. Muse, perhaps? And Randy, I’ve never known you to be a Reds fan.”

  Bobby’s stomach did a flip, and he gripped the handle of the knife even tighter. Graham was watching them. Or someone else was watching them and relaying the information back to him.

  “How are you ever going to believe me?” Randy asked. “You can’t see they’ve left me alone. I could be standing here all day waiting for you because you’re too stubborn to accept it.”

  “You really think I can’t see you?”

  Bobby, seeing no old men or cameras in the vicinity, decided to test Graham’s claim. He lifted the knife into the air and swung it around in sweeping arcs as if he were some kind of shaman about to perform a sacrifice.

  If that couldn’t get Graham’s attention, the old man was either blind or lying.

  Phil stopped to gape at him. Bobby held a finger to his lips and proceeded to stab at the air in front of him to fend off an invisible foe.

  Graham made no comment about his unusual behavior.

  Realization dawned on Phil’s face. He beckoned to Bobby.

  “He must have seen us up at the house,” Bobby whispered when he reached Phil’s side. Behind them, Randy resumed his discussion with Graham. “Or his buddy told him what you guys were wearing so he could pretend he could see us.”

  “You’ll note he didn’t say anything about what you’re wearing.”

  “That’s because he doesn’t know me. He wants to mess with you two because you’re the bigger threats to him.”

  Phil seemed to ponder this. “Makes sense.”

  “But he has to be wondering who I am.”

  “Probably, but you’re not much of a concern for him right now. The Servants have friends. You could just be one of them.”

  While not intended to be hurtful, Phil’s words stung. “I thought I already was.”

  “That remains to be seen.”

  It occurred to Bobby that Randy’s voice had become fainter. He turned and saw that the man had wal
ked down the gully in the opposite direction from where they stood, holding the phone to his ear again.

  He’d turned off the speaker?

  Phil strode off in that direction, taking light steps, and Bobby followed suit.

  “—understand. Yes, Graham.” Randy lifted a hand when he saw them approaching. “I give you my word.”

  He ended the call.

  Phil’s eyes grew livid. “Just what’s going on here? Why did you turn the speaker off?”

  Randy looked as grim as an undertaker. “Because I promised I wouldn’t let anyone overhear.”

  “Why?”

  The Servant’s eyes gleamed with tears. “It’s the only way he’ll let me see Lupe. What kind of person would I be to leave her alone with him?”

  Phil shoved his gun into its holster. The armpits of his borrowed shirt were damp with sweat. “Sometimes I wonder if you’ve gone funny in the head. You’ll honestly risk everything to go get her? Look what happened the last time a Servant died without a replacement!”

  “I don’t plan on letting myself be killed.”

  “What are you going to do, then? Kill Graham? Where did he tell you to go?”

  Randy just shook his head.

  “You promised him you wouldn’t tell, didn’t you?”

  “That’s right.”

  Bobby couldn’t believe Randy was acting like this, either. “If you go alone, we can’t help you.”

  “You can help me plenty. Start praying.”

  Phil looked ready to throttle him. “Lord, Randy, you don’t even have a replacement if something should go wrong!”

  “I can’t help that. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil. Have faith, Phil. God saved me from him once. I trust him to save me again.”

  “Shouldn’t we at least know where to find you?” Bobby asked as anxiety made his heart race. “At least give us a hint. That won’t count as breaking your promise.”

  Randy closed his eyes and was quiet for a long time. “It’s far,” he said, “but not too far. Back in the mountains a ways. And Phil, when was I born?”

  Phil’s eyebrows rose. “April Fool’s Day. It’s starting to seem fitting.”

  “In what year?”

  “Nineteen eighty-nine. How does this help us?”

  “You’ll have to figure it out on your own.”

  “Why can’t you just break your promise to him?” Bobby asked. “I’m sure he won’t keep any promises he makes to you.”

  “That doesn’t make it acceptable for me to lie.”

  “You lied to Father Preston,” Phil said.

  “And I regret that.”

  “Dude,” Bobby said. “Lupe’s life is at stake. Don’t you think it’s okay to lie to save her?”

  A look of indecision entered Randy’s eyes. Then he shook his head. “If I die today and meet my Maker, what would he say to me if I had sinned in order to save Lupe?”

  “He’d say good job for doing your best.”

  Randy’s head continued to shake. “I will not be like Graham. And I fully intend to keep it that way.”

  THEY MADE it out of the woods onto another residential street, where Phil phoned a taxi to deliver them back to Bobby’s house on Fir Street. None of them spoke along the way so they wouldn’t receive unwanted attention from the sour-faced driver, but the tension between the three of them was so palpable that Bobby could feel its weight pressing down on them all.

  The driver dropped them off at the end of Bobby’s driveway and tore off with a squeal of tires after they paid him for the trip.

  Stay here, said the voice in Bobby’s head. It’s much safer if you do.

  Yes, it would be safer.

  Which was why he climbed into the back seat of Phil’s car and rode with them to Randy’s place.

  “You’re sure you won’t tell us where you’re going,” Phil said.

  Randy gave them a barely perceptible nod. He marched toward the garage with his head held high. Phil threw Bobby an agitated glance, and they followed him.

  Bobby reviewed Randy’s hint from various angles. He had no idea what the year of the man’s birth had to do with anything. Was 1989 the house number where Graham had imprisoned Lupe? There might be dozens of homes in the area with that number. There wouldn’t be enough time to narrow them down to one.

  It had to mean something different, but Bobby couldn’t guess what else it might be.

  Randy rolled up the door of the garage, exposing his newly-repaired Ford. He looked back at the two of them. “The valley comes in from the west and stops at the year of my birth,” he said. “You follow?”

  “Which valley?” Phil asked.

  Randy shook his head.

  “For the love of God, Randy, it’s okay to tell me where he told you to go!”

  “I’m not going to argue with you about that anymore. Wish me luck.”

  Phil looked like he was about to burst into tears. “I don’t hold any stock in luck.”

  Randy gave him an iron stare. “What if it was Allison and Ashley instead of Lupe? Would you do the same?”

  The muscles in Phil’s jaw clenched, and his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “I would do whatever had to be done to save them, including telling my friends where they are. I honestly think you’re making a mistake.”

  “We’ll find out, won’t we?” Randy opened the car door and climbed inside.

  The engine turned over in the Ford and Randy backed it out of the garage. He gave the two of them a solemn salute and set off down the lane between the trees, soon vanishing from their sight.

  Bobby looked over at Phil’s car. If they acted now, they could follow Randy to whatever rendezvous point Graham had indicated on the telephone, but something in his gut told him they needed to hold back. Graham would expect Randy to arrive with backup, and he could have hired more gunmen to watch out for any extra vehicles that showed up in Randy’s wake.

  The gunman’s face from the priest’s house rippled in the forefront of his mind. If you could remember who I am, it seemed to say, then you just might be able to find me.

  But Bobby was at a loss. Linking together faces and names and the places where he had encountered them was a skill he had not fully mastered, and he cursed himself for it.

  He and Phil stood there helplessly as the sound of the Ford’s engine died away.

  “So what are we going to do now?” Bobby asked.

  Phil’s eyes went out of focus as if he’d suddenly become lost in thought. Then he closed them. “Let’s go inside,” he said. “I can hardly think standing out here. Maybe sitting down will help clear my head.”

  AFTER SPENDING long minutes on the telephone in a different room, Graham blindfolded Lupe, bound her hands behind her, and forced her into the car; though “forced” wasn’t the proper word since she permitted herself to be led willingly. She would be with Randy soon. Even if they were only together for a minute or two before they died, that would be okay.

  In the front seat, Graham started coughing so hard that Lupe thought he might hack up a lung. He cleared his throat and coughed a few more times, and he became silent once more.

  She hoped those disgusting cigarettes in which he indulged were finally causing him permanent damage. The sooner the old man ended up in the grave, the better.

  An unknown length of time passed as she felt the car speed up and slow down and speed up again. When at last they turned off the road and parked, Graham led her out of the vehicle.

  He walked her across an expanse of grass, and finally she heard the squeaking of door hinges as he guided her into a building that smelled of wood and damp earth. An old barn, probably. But more likely a storage shed since she couldn’t smell any animals.

  “You’ll be staying in here until Randy arrives,” Graham said.

  “How long will that be?”

  “You’ll find out, won’t you?”

  And with that, he slammed the door, leaving her bound, blindfolded, and utter
ly alone.

  BOBBY TRIED the knob on Randy’s front door, and to his surprise, it opened.

  “He left that unlocked?” Phil asked, blond eyebrows arched.

  “Looks like it.” Bobby stepped over the threshold and turned on the light. Phil gently closed the door behind them.

  They faced each other. Most of the antagonism he’d sensed in Phil seemed to have been replaced with intense concern.

  “Have you thought of anything yet?” Bobby asked.

  “No.” Phil sat down on one of the IKEA couches and put his head in his hands. “Lord, why didn’t we follow him?”

  Bobby lowered himself onto the other couch. “Because Graham expects us to do that.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  “You know I’m right. If he could get Father Laubisch and that guy to stage a shooting just to freak us out, then he’s got to have more up his sleeve.”

  “You make it sound like you know him.”

  “But I don’t. I mean . . .” He broke off. “His voice. On the phone. Is that how he sounds in real life?”

  Phil gave him the faintest of smiles, but it looked more like a grimace. “Did you think he was distorting his voice? The man’s smoked since before I was born. It’s a wonder it hasn’t done him in yet.”

  “It’s just I swear I’ve heard him before. Only I don’t know where, because I don’t know anybody named Graham.”

  “You said you recognized the man who showed up on Father Laubisch’s porch, too.”

  “Right, but I don’t know where I could know him from, either.”

  “Do you think you saw him and Graham together somewhere?”

  Bobby shrugged. “It’s possible. We got a lot of customers at the restaurant I worked at. Some were regulars and others were just people passing through.” He paused. “Do you know if Graham ever ate at Arnie’s Stop-N-Eat?”

  “I’m not going to pretend I knew what the man was up to at all hours of the day. Obviously, I didn’t.” His forehead furrowed in thought. “Hang on. I have an idea.”