Desert Son Trilogy: Desert Son, Wayward Soul, Spiritual Intervention (Books 1-3)

by Glenn Maynard

  And that he did, each time unsuccessfully.

  “Brenda, come back,” he pleaded. “Brenda, return to nineteen-ninety-six. Brenda…Shirley…move ahead in time…past your horrible death and into your next life as Brenda.”

  Brenda did not stir, but she began sensing discomfort, mumbling like she had done when Martin was strangling the life out of Shirley. Carter wondered if Brenda could actually die due to the reality of the situation. He didn’t really know that she could, but the possibility alone terrified him. He was in panic mode and needed Brenda. He wondered if there was a limit to the number of times one person can become another. How real was this hypnosis? Maybe Shirley cannot become Brenda again.

  Carter’s mind began spitting out worst-case scenarios. Brenda had done so much for Carter, but Carter could not return the favor even if it meant saving her life. He wondered if this untrained hypnosis could be fatal. He knew that he had to treat this delicate situation as if it were fatal, so he kept pushing.

  “Shirley, please move past your death,” he tried.

  “I am there,” she finally responded.

  “Move through time until you inhabit the physical body of a baby girl that goes by the name of Brenda.”

  There was no answer.

  “Brenda, can you hear me?” he asked.

  “What a lovely day,” she mumbled.

  “Brenda, please talk to me.”

  “The cornfields look lovely today.”

  Carter was prepared to say something else, but that sentence of hers stopped him in his tracks.

  “Brenda?” he asked.

  “Yes, that’s me,” she said in a soft voice. “What a cute baby I am. I’m back for him.”

  “Brenda,” said Carter, his face reddening from fright and relief, but he still needed to make sure that Brenda returned safely and immediately.

  “Brenda, return to the…26th day of March in the year nineteen-ninety-six.”

  “Ouch, my head. Damn it Reggie!”

  Carter was confused, until Brenda mentioned coffee with him.

  “Make it the 27th day of March in the year nineteen-ninety-six…the very next day.” Carter then snapped his fingers.

  Brenda opened her eyes, and Carter rushed at her with a hug. He was trembling from his near loss, and the only thing he thought about was never doing that again. He released her, and then saw a terrified look form on her face. The look turned angry, almost evil.

  “Darren,” she said, finally smiling.

  “No, Carter,” he said.

  “That’s what I said.”

  “Yes,” said Carter. You’re right.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Brenda sat up on the couch and glanced around the room. Carter did not feel the need to tell her a thing, so as not to upset her. Then he noticed that her eyes became fixated on something across the room. He followed the path of her eyes and discovered that she was staring at the portrait of Shirley. He attempted to break her concentration.

  “Brenda,” he began, “I don’t think I really want you to try this on me…it’s just…I don’t know…not what I want right now. Maybe we should go back in the room and…”

  “Bastard,” she screamed out. “That bastard.”

  “Brenda,” said Carter.

  Brenda tried to get up. She was fit to be tied. Carter held both of her arms down on the couch.

  “I’m gonna kill that son of a bitch,” she said.

  She was screaming over the distant moans from the other room.

  “Wait,” Carter protested, trying to calm her, yet trying to properly assimilate what he had just learned. He knew she had a right to be angry…sort of, and it became that “sort of” which he believed was the motivation behind his holding her back. It was another lifetime, another life, and Martin did catch her infidelity. He wondered if she remembered that part, or even who she had an affair with.

  “Brenda, if you do anything to Martin, then we won’t get the full story,” said Carter.

  “I’m gonna kill that asshole,” she repeated.

  Brenda again tried to lunge from Carter’s firm grip, but Carter held her securely. He had never seen Brenda angry, nor did he ever imagine her to be this aggressive. She had extraordinary strength, he thought. If he let her go, then she would kill what seemed like their last chance to find out what happened to his mother and himself. That’s the most important bit of information that he needed. He needed her to chill out and handle this last resort rationally.

  Carter noticed that her struggle dwindled, and he used her fatigue to explain the best way for them to handle this situation.

  “Brenda, listen to me,” he said. “You know that Martin would rather die at this moment. He’s begging to leave us. He’s suffering so badly now, so you’re putting him out of his misery entirely would be a favor to him. Listen to him moan in there. He’s suffering so badly now that if you go in there and strangle him like he did to Shirley...”

  “Like he did to me!” she protested.

  “No,” screamed Carter, “like he did to Shirley, and if he didn’t do such an awful thing, then you wouldn’t be here today.”

  “I would,” she replied, “just not exactly the same.”

  Carter knew that he was grasping at straws, but he learned from Brenda that if you exude confidence then people will just take your word for it. Carter needed Martin around at least until he learned about himself. He needed to stop her rage long enough for her to think about her actions. Now that he had her attention, he began his argument.

  “This is hardly worth you going to jail for,” he pleaded. “Martin is on his way out very soon anyway. He’s in terrible pain, and has been for some time now. He would love to be dead. Trust me, I’ve been there.”

  “Me too,” Brenda assured him

  “Then you should know better, Brenda. Did you not feel much better after your death? Did your pain not cease?”

  Brenda slowly and softly replied, through the onset of tears, “Yes.”

  Carter did not speak after her reply, wanting her to absorb his point first. He saw in her eyes that she was considering his arguments.

  Brenda finally gave in to Carter’s reasoning, and agreed to let him lead. So they eased their way into Martin’s bedroom, and found the old man in pretty much the same quiet agony in which they left him. Martin continued to mention Alexandra’s name, as if she was there in the room. The tormenting had been going on all the time that they were away, and they needed to know why in order to determine what happened to Alexandra and her baby.

  Martin raised one eyebrow and acknowledged his worldly company.

  “End it for me,” he whispered.

  Brenda glanced at Carter, then slowly eased her way forward a step, bending over and whispering back to her worst enemy, “No.”

  Martin closed that left eye, and then reopened it. “Please, Shirley,” he pleaded. “The pain is unbearable.”

  Brenda remained bent over Martin, realizing how good this felt as she responded to his second plea.

  “Good,” she said with a smile.

  “Please,” he begged.

  Brenda hung her face just above his.

  “Martin, I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction of death. After all, we know about Shirley. It would be a shame to put you out of your misery.”

  “Please, Shirley,” he said.

  “No, Shirley’s gone.” said Brenda. “You killed her, and now you must deal with me, and I’m not going to let you die. I’m all for letting you suffer, and I think I speak for Carter too. What comes around…goes aroun
d.”

  “She does speak for me,” screamed Carter, stepping forward.

  Martin lifted his eye again, but this time toward Carter’s voice.

  “You son of a bitch,” Martin said, looking back and forth at the two standing before him. “You did find each other.”

  Brenda gave him a quizzical look, and then moved her face into Martin’s.

  “Marty,” she said. “Tell you what…you tell us what happened to Alexandra and her baby, and we will put you out of your misery.”

  Martin was then struck with intense pain, which forced him to howl loudly.

  “Alexandra, no…please,” Martin pleaded.

  “Why is Alexandra here?” Carter asked.

  Brenda grabbed Martin with both hands, twisting his shirt at the chest and popping buttons off.

  “Answer the question,” she said. “What did you do to Alexandra?”

  Martin, through moans, said, “The…the backyard.”

  “What about it?” Carter asked, knowing full well that she had a proper burial in the cemetery.

  “She saw…” Martin began.

  “Saw what?” urged Carter.

  Objects flew around the room like they were in the path of a tornado. All three of them in the room were ducking for cover. It was a dangerous place to be, but it was the only place that held answers. Martin continued to scream Alexandra’s name, and it was clear that she was not happily taking him away. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead, and Martin opened his eyes to finish what he had started. His truth seemed forced. He was energized. It was as if Alexandra was forcing his hand.

  “She saw me burying Shirley in the backyard,” Martin explained, “and she got so upset that she began having serious contractions.”

  “What did you do to her?” asked Carter.

  Martin stared straight up to the ceiling.

  “I did nothing. I didn’t touch her. She died when she was pregnant.” Martin claimed.

  Wind blew apart one of the bedroom windows.

  Carter could see that the heavens were angry. Objects began flying across the room. Items found on bureaus, like books and picture frames, soared and crashed against walls.

  Martin did not seem necessarily fazed by this supernatural chaos anymore. He seemed to be in an almost hypnotic, in-between state. He began to mumble unintelligibly. It almost sounded to Carter that he was speaking in tongues.

  Suddenly, Martin’s speech became clear, and a story began to unfold slowly.

  “I…just…drove her to the corner of the state, the Four Corners region…and I left her body there in the desert,” Martin confessed.

  “Martin, she was pregnant,” screamed Brenda.

  “They found her,” he said. “I didn’t mean for her to die.”

  “Of course you did! What about the baby? That’s two lives right there,” screamed Brenda.

  “That baby found a home…clear ‘cross country. He wasn’t made to die. Tough kid.”

  Martin brought both hands to his face and wiped the sweat away. There was a thickness to the room as Carter and Brenda listened intently. “Deserved what he got for his parent’s actions. Somebody’s got to pay. You hear that Shirley? Darren? Somebody’s…got…to pay!”

  Brenda turned red in the face. She swiftly, but calmly pulled Martin’s pillow from under his head, and covered his face with it. Carter watched idly, numb, but okay with Brenda’s actions. Martin did not put up a fight, but soon his moaning ceased. Brenda took the pillow away from his head, and then slipped it back under his lifeless head where it started.

  More wind surged through the room, and Carter took this as a sign that Alexandra was sweeping Martin into the other world. Carter grabbed his soul mate by the wrist, and led her out of the room and out of the house. They walked out to Carter’s car as thoughts of Carter’s dear adoptive parents filled his mind, while a video tribute played in his head.

  Carter pounded on the hood of his car as he remembered that his car had no gas. He pounded again and looked at the shed in the back yard. Martin had said that he has no use for gas, but maybe he had something to put gas into.

  Carter told Brenda to wait behind as he searched for a container. When he made it to the old shed to the right of the house, he was excited to see a gas container. He lifted it up, and then shook its emptiness. In frustration, he tossed it aside, but knew that it might come in handy.

  As Carter walked back to meet Brenda by the car, she had disappeared from the scene. He looked at the house and saw that the front door was ajar, and he was sure that he had closed it as he left the house for what he thought was the final time.

  Carter made his way across the porch and back into the old white house, wondering why he kept having to return to this dwelling. Why couldn’t he just be done with it once and for all, he wondered. He pondered where he would go after this, and if it was back to Boston, then why? He had no connection to that bean town.

  He was then relieved that there was no gas, or else he would’ve impulsively been on his way back to Boston from the outset, never finding out that his life was being lived in the wrong place. All the work and discoveries over the past few days lead him to where he was supposed to be, yet he was about to pick up and go back to where he never felt at home. For the first time in this life, he felt at home. He relished this feeling.

  Carter walked across the living room as he heard a stirring at the other side of the house. He panicked when he found that the commotion came from Martin’s room. Into the bedroom he rushed to find Brenda sitting beside Martin, whose eyes were now opened.

  Brenda was cradling Martin’s head in her arms, and Martin was fully a part of their realm, mumbling, “Alexandra won’t let me go. She won’t let me leave you.”

  Brenda had been conversing with Martin, and her back was toward Carter when he entered the room. Carter remained quiet and just looked on, and now he felt like the fly on the wall that he’d wished for.

  “Why doesn’t Alexandra want you to go?” Brenda asked.

  “She doesn’t want me to go.” Martin repeated.

  “But why?” Brenda repeated. “She must’ve said something.”

  Carter noticed that the room was completely calm now, and his mother seemed to have left. In fact, the whole house had eased its rage. He could feel the warmth that had once emanated from it. It felt right. He felt right. He looked at Brenda, realizing that Boston would be unsuitable for her as well. It was becoming increasingly clear where their suitable life would be spent.

  Martin looked up into Brenda’s eyes. He seemed more alert than he had been in a while, but certainly under the circumstances he should have slowed at least a touch.

  “She said that I owe it to her to look after her son.” Martin revealed in a slow monotone. “She said that he had no place to go and that for the first time in his life he is in the comfort of his home. She said that it would be penance for me, and besides, she wasn’t exactly thrilled about me being with her so soon. She said that Carter could take care of me at the same time.”

  Carter concentrated on the final part and what his mother likely meant. Then he smirked to himself. “She’s probably right,” said Carter, finally making his presence known. “Brenda, I think we need to be here…I mean…look at all the factors that brought us here in the first place. It just seems…like it’s meant to be.”

  Brenda seemed out of sorts as she slowly put Martin’s head back down on his pillow. She looked at Carter with tears in her eyes. The look that had always been so familiar to Carter now had meaning. He loved that look, and his life would never have been complete without reuniting with her. Carter and Brenda both felt that they were in the
right place.

  Carter looked at Martin and grimaced. All that Martin had done would be hard for Carter to overcome, and Brenda would certainly have trouble sharing his home until he dies. Carter finally spoke to him.

  “Okay Martin,” he said. “Come on…we have to get away from this house. Let’s get some fresh air. My mother asked that I take care of you, so I will begin right now.

  Carter spoke no further, bent on getting Martin up and out of the house and into his own car. His questions remained unanswered. Carter felt that he owed Martin nothing…not even an explanation.

  After guiding Martin into his old Valiant, Carter proceeded to back out of the driveway. Brenda served as his copilot. Martin hounded him with questions as to their destination. Carter drove far away from the mountains without giving them so much as a hint of where he was taking them.

  Brenda finally got Carter to look at her, while he maintained control of the wheel.

  “Carter,” she whispered low enough that Martin would not hear. “Where on earth are you going?”

  Carter looked over at Brenda, and then noticed that Martin was nodding off in the back seat. He again looked at Brenda and said aloud, “The signs are leading me to the desert…the Four Corners to be exact…then leading the two of us back home to Boulder.”

  Brenda smiled at Carter and squeezed his hand. It had been a long road.

  “Sounds good, kid,” she said, and onward to the desert they drove.

  WAYWARD SOUL

  CHAPTER ONE

  Carter Spence began to hyperventilate as the past and present collided before his eyes. He felt the onset of a cold sweat. It was a traumatic time, once again. His world had suddenly been turned upside down. He had been working so hard on forging his new life, but the present was tugging hard on the past.

  There was so much on the line. Four years had passed since a helicopter had whisked the body of Carter to the hospital with his spirit lagging behind. It seemed like an eternity ago, but this visit was still far too soon for him. He never again wanted to step foot in another medical facility, and that was why this visit was so difficult. Unfortunately, it was so necessary as well.