by Brad Cox
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When Elisa arrived at the convenient store, she could feel an unwelcome set of eyes resting upon her. On guard, she surveyed the scene. Assuming her nerves were getting the best of her, she crossed the threshold. As the automatic doors closed, an uncanny sense of familiarity befell her. Slipping by her radar, the devil was parked and waiting. As she greeted the local store clerk, another Godstop of synchronicity pecked upon her awareness. She recalled the dream she'd had of Anan, the red bird. Nervously shuffling through the tests and cautiously glancing through the sliding doorway for clues, her waxing and waning memories distracted her focus from reality. 'Was the dream about Magnus?' she questioned. In record time, she made her purchase and stalled in the aisles, until coherency trumped her fear. Slipping out of a fire exit seemed reasonable, considering her recollections.
After a noticeable amount of time had passed, she tempted fate. Entering the parking lot, she locked eyes with Beelzebub and swallowed a big gulp of adrenaline. This was the moment Anan had foreshadowed. She choked, screamed and turned back toward the store doors. Her ears sprung like an antenna, as Magnus locked and loaded his pistola, and slowly inched toward her. Per protocol, the store clerk secured the premises and called the police. Elisa cried, knowing she was trapped. Though she screamed and pounded upon the doors, it was of no consequence. The clerks huddled behind the furthest aisle walls, praying they'd soon see their friends and families. They'd already stomached the reality they'd someday have to explain why they locked a pregnant girl out of their store, while she faced a killer.
“What do you have there?” asked Magnus.
“You already know,” said Elisa. Nervous, she took a step back and pleaded.
“Stop! If you have this baby, it's over. I'll never see you again. You have to agree to terminating it, or I'll be forced to kill you. We can still be together, Elisa. You've got to stop this from happening,” said Magnus.
Her quivering mouth moved along with his crazed words, 'We can still be together.' Frozen with fear, she dropped the weightless bag. “You don't have to do this!” Elisa fired back. “Don't be a selfish prick! Think of all of the people you'll be hurting. If I don't love you now, why in the hell would I love you, after you've pulled the trigger.”
“I love you. I can't risk losing you. You know we connected in the desert. We just need time,” said Magnus.
“Time? This isn't how love works. You can't force someone to be with you. I don't love you, now, and I never will. You're psychotic! Even if I had a few flash feelings, that's not why we're here. Do you think I want to spend an earthly eternity with a lunatic?” asked Elisa.
He was too distracted to respond to her unsettling and brave reasoning. Disrupting their heated discourse, an army of blue and red lights descended upon the parking lot. Magnus's fight-or-flight reaction was triggered, making him a ticking time bomb. “Put down your weapon!” screamed an LAPD officer.
“I'm sorry. We're out of time. Luckily, we have all the time in the world to figure this out,” said Magnus.
“Figure out what?” asked Elisa.
“Us. For once, I kind of know what God feels like – it’s this moment,” said Magnus.
“What God? You're a megalomaniac,” screamed Elisa.
“What can I say, I have a bit of a complex. Killing the one you love is love, right?”
“Jesus Christ!” she screamed.
She jerked and tried to run, but it was no use. Magnus immediately opened fire and unloaded a flurry of bullets into her spine and head. The bullets that missed her grazed the police, who fired back. Just as a Nickelodeon winds down, he fell to his knees in slow motion. Trembling on the ground, her furious eyes locked with his. Together, they drifted toward The Hallway of Sorrows. The city wept, as warm blood ran from their bodies and glazed over the smoldering concrete. Three birds were killed with a single heart of stone.
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I arrived in New Mexico, followed my plan and tracked Dez. We made small talk and danced around my immediate reason for being spotted in a New Mexican strip club. He remained disengaged by my ramblings, but was often distracted by the people in the club. They seemed to know and enjoy showering him with a comical level of adoration and respect. I decided the best way to win his trust was to continue filling our void of relevant commentary with the sound of my own voice. The more I shared, the more I hoped he'd consider opening a dialog. I told him about my time with Ash and framed our departure as a riddle of regret. If he was plotting to kill her and he had murdered Simon and Juno, I thought steering our conversation into a familiar harbor was a good place to dock. Overhearing my one way conversation, a small group swarmed and introduced themselves.
“Ash? Isn't she that famous artist in Europe?” asked Michelle. She was curious.
Immediately becoming uncomfortable, I could practically taste the beads of sweat emerging from Dez's brow line. I knew there had to be a reason this random New Mexican club kid would know about Ash. Dez knew it wasn't the time nor place for revelations. My curiosity piqued. This was the validation I needed to justify my presence.
“Yes!” I responded. “She left me broke and brokenhearted in Los Angeles.”
“Women?” she laughed. “How do you know Dez?”
Encouraging me to pause, Dez put his arm around my shoulder and firmly directed me away from his peer group. He led me to a remote part of the club, far from ear shot. “Small talk, aside, why are you here and how did you find me?”
“Ash and I had a hell of a rock show going in Los Angeles. She deserted me and it all disbanded. I was abruptly forced to leave. Getting back on my feet, I wanted to visit a few friends, so I returned. Elisa was gracious enough to share her couch for a few weeks. I talk to Grayson, pretty regularly. Do you remember the guy?”
“I do,” said Dez.
“He said Simon was with you. So, I figured I'd try and kill two birds with one stone.”
“Yes, Simon was here. He didn't stay long. I might have scared him a bit. I don't have the nicest of accommodations and my demeanor can sometimes make people a little uncomfortable. He was staying in a nearby hotel. I think he just needed someone to bond with. Israel ostracized him,” furthered Dez.
“He's gone?” I asked.
“He is. He wanted to try and find himself in the desert.”
“Like Moses?” I asked.
“Yeah, I guess. He wouldn't be the first to get lost out here.”
“How did that girl know about Ash?” I prodded, beginning to sense trust in Dez's tone.
“These people are my closest friends. I share everything with them. The Program doesn't make sense, Neco. I can't participate or even allow myself to think about it. It's too much, and I have too much of my own baggage to sort through,” said Dez.
“Tell me about it!”
“Our calling, it feels like Zombieland. So, I built walls, went off the grid, made friends and found my own way of dealing with it. The booze, and girls are a mere distraction. I'd invite you over, but I don't know that you'd feel comfortable with my arrangements,” offered Dez.
“Dez, I don't have anywhere to go! I'm like a nomad. Ash obliterated my heart. I'm furious with her. Point is, I've got no real reason to go on. It wasn't supposed to happen like that, you know? None of this feels right, but I have no choice but to wake-up and face this reality. It never fades,” I said.
“It's why I'm distant. I stuck my toes in the water and invited Simon. He didn't seem too tolerant of The Program. I figured we'd find some common ground. If he stayed a little longer, we may have been able to save each other. Everyone else seems to be content living their lives and fully engaged in The Program,” said Dez.
“It does seem that way.”
“We're not. These friends of mine follow me, because I gave them a backstage pass.”
“Do they know about The Program?”
“Yes, I expressed it in a way they could understand. If you're willing to come out, listen and follow along, without judgment, y
ou're welcome. If you become uneasy with what I've built and what you hear, I'd appreciate it if you just excused yourself. What you'll hear is my reality. It's my world. That said, I could certainly use a friend. Most people would see what I've raised as a cult and that's fine. It's not a cult.”
Luckily, my steady hand played. Dez couldn't see a downside to bringing me in; we'd either connect or he'd be one step closer to wiping out The Program. I knew more than he'd given me credit for. So long as I continued playing up my dysfunctional relationship with Ash, I had a gateway to staying in good graces. All I had to do was join and play nice. “I would be honored.”
chapter 29
shock waves
News of Elisa and Magnus's death sent shock waves through the dwindling Program. What brought the surviving members alarming pause was the unrelated nature of the four recent deaths. Knowing Dez hadn't triggered Magnus's unquenchable obsession. The suspicion surrounding him was again tainted. The Hallway of Sorrows mounted with tragedy. Though few news networks missed the opportunity to share the viral coverage of Magnus and Elisa's standoff, Grayson, always the first to know, was tasked with warning and informing his distant comrades. The gruesome coverage haunted them all. With twins on the way, Icarus instantly became concerned. He was excited about the implications of a dual Crystalline delivery and didn't want to compromise Maria's life, or his grand exit from The Program. Knowing a mad season had fallen upon them, he was quick to make concessions.
“Ben, it's Icarus.”
“How are the little ones coming along?” asked Ben.
“They are good. Maria and I would like to bury some neighboring roots. These months pass like days. With the chaos surrounding The Program and our lot of tragic deaths, we wanted to be proactive about cloaking her delivery, and shrouding our newborn babies from this traveling beast. We suspect the other Programmers know of her pregnancy. It's all a bit unsettling, but we're not taking any chances, especially if there is a western renegade on the loose,” said Icarus.
“We totally understand,” said Ben.
“We'll be moving to Dublin in a month. We will give you our whereabouts when we arrive,” continued Icarus.
“Don't give it another thought. We are happy to help you get situated and show you around,” said Ben.
“You are our lighthouse. Thank you for guiding us to safe harbors,” said Icarus.
“Great passages to you. We have to stick together. There's no need to thank us,” said Ben.
“When they're born, Maria may need to go into hiding. In which case, our kids will remain with you, until it is safe. Sadly, I cannot bring my biological family into this without them fearing for our sanity. It's strange to say, but sometimes being estranged is in everyone's best interest. Once they've forgotten about the pain of abandonment, they can relearn how to live-in peace!”
“How's Maria doing?” asked Ben.
“She's nervous and getting bigger,” whispered Icarus, afraid Maria might hear him.
“How do you feel?” asked Ben.
“I get weaker with each passing day. I'm not entirely sure what to expect, but if she's truly the one, than these symptoms are telling, and should be documented. I feel light, and my mind has been consumed by a smothering fog. I feel lost within my body, and my eyes are like a flickering candle in the tired wind,” said Icarus.
“Farewell, my friends.”
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Circulating reports of harassment toward others, those who claimed to have birthed miracle or crystal children, began to surface. Dez’s cult was gaining national media attention and momentum. Their bravado was amplified by coarse actions. Acts of violence, vandalism and arson were often marked by Cadence of the Sun business card; a card that included their Taiyo sun symbol and moniker. Supporters were quick to take the microphone and amplify their plight. The cult was targeting Programmers, their family members, solicitors of divinity and anyone with pupils with an indigo hue; people presumed to be the direct genetic descendants or mere charlatans, manufacturing dissonance.
Though an investigation of the website and its loyal followers was underway, a lack of hard evidence, connecting the recent mischief and murder to the group, shielded Dez from the authorities. Ongoing coverage, leaks from ex-cult members and helicopter runs from various news affiliates began unearthing vivid details about the compound. The police were poised. The Cadence could surmise the police were sitting on a loose case, inciting their lust for poking the hive. The parents who had birthed these special children were nervous and began scouring the Internet for instructions. The proliferation of disinformation, by people claiming to have birthed these children, blended with outlandish conspiracy theories, mucked the waters of reality and fueled the confusion of the public. There became a fear of an impending uprising, and a government cover-up.
These rumblings of a new U.S. cult, with an international reach, were often downplayed. The government didn't want to fuel the notoriety of its discontents or encourage the unstable to take up arms. This wealth of reporting also put Grayson's journalistic poise on high alert. Meticulously, he documented the unfolding chess match between the Cadence and the world. Grayson knew the merits of his final editorial work would trump the efforts of his predecessors, as he slowly fastened the beginning and middle pieces of his book into place. As a security measure, he reached across the pond and lassoed the ears of those he feared may be void of breaking news, changed the password of their private website and scrubbed pertinent information from the site, which might put anyone associated with The Program in harm's way.
“Ash, the cult has surfaced. They are targeting us and our families. Anyone claiming to have carried a child of divinity may be in trouble,” warned Grayson. “I don't know the legitimacy of their claims, but I know they are prevalent, and a spiritual war is unfolding. Dez wants to burn the world to the ground.”
“Yes, I heard the whistling wind through the trees, but I've been too consumed with my studio and pregnancy, to pay it mind. I heard about Juno and Simon. Have the two been connected, or are we still skeptics, bathing in black soap?” asked Ash.
“The cult is called Cadence of the Sun. Leaked information from ex-cult members links them to a town outside of Albuquerque. Their IP address confirms this. The ringleader is, of course, Dez. He's getting 100's or 1,000's of hits per day. He's built an army of followers. You need to be careful. I don't want to write your obituary, darling,” said Grayson.
“I'll keep a tight ship.”
“Your secret is safe, though, people who follow your paintings will be quick to assume you are carrying a crystal child. It only takes an ounce of suspicion to bring the devil to your doorstep. For all we know, the Cadence of the Sun is there, in wait. Godspeed.”
“Thank you, Grayson.”
Grayson became entranced by the investigation. He felt the pinch of Father Time and padded his own story with follow-up interviews from the remaining members — feverishly trying to connect the morsels of data needed to help the police arrest the madman. His ongoing story had been scribed across pizza boxes, napkins and archived in countless emails and word documents. Taking precautions, he was quick to compile and secure his notes, praying he wasn't next.
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Surprisingly, amidst the chaos, no one took ownership of Juno Vestris’s horrific death, while Simon Peter still remained a missing person. Their only hope for answers lied in Neco's trip west. Like Simon, Neco’s conversations with Grayson slowly sputtered out, due to location, time zone and his immediate access to the Internet. On a busy night, Grayson was interrupted, while tending a beat.
“I'm in,” said Neco.
“Neco?” asked Grayson.
“I'm barricaded in a hotel.”
“What are you doing there?”
“Waiting. I'm told it's the same hotel Simon stayed in.”
“He's alive?” asked Grayson.
“Dez said he only stayed briefly, before heading into the desert to find himself, or God?”
“Simon found you in a vision, remember? If we are to trust our dreams, he’s already dead,” said Grayson.
“I didn't say it made sense, but he was remarkably convincing,” said Neco.
“I'm not surprised,” said Grayson.
“The people in this town worship him.”
“He started a cult, Neco!”
“I know, I joined, and have been following the story from my room.”
“That's great! Are you sure he's not just going to lure you in and kill you?”
“I'm not sure of anything. I managed to sell my disdain for The Program, which I'm confident he bought. If he suspects anything, I am dead.” Neco lit a cigarette and kicked rocks in the empty parking lot. Exhaling, his smoke was consumed by the street lights above. He could see if headlights were coming, for miles, but no one came. His detachment from humanity made him feel like he was sharing his final days with an absentee god. “Right now, I'm worried about Ash. These people knew about her. I'm not sure if they know about all of us. Dez got very uncomfortable when I brought up her name,” said Neco.
“He knows you can out him. I just got off the phone with Ash. I filled her in on everything that's going on and urged her to keep watch. The password to the site has been changed to 'Children of the Program,' all one word. I'm avoiding updates and have encrypted a lot of our personal information. He may have hackers — not that it would take a mastermind,” said Grayson.
“Exactly!”
“Neco, I'm going to compile our story and leave a hard copy beneath the floorboards of my kitchen. If anything happens, we need someone to share our story with the world. Of course, you will have to wait until the time is right. We may end up thanking each other in another lifetime, or not, but somehow that's a good thing, right? It’s beyond comprehension.” Grayson joked.
