Rememberers

by C. Edward Baldwin

  The smell inside the sanctuary was similar to that, but worse somehow, as if someone had thrown in some rotting fruit for good measure. McCarthy walked quickly to the pastor's chambers. The door to the chambers was closed, but not locked. McCarthy entered and discovered, to his pleasant surprise, that the odor didn't reach this far. He closed the door behind him.

  The computer was atop Swag's desk. McCarthy sat at the desk and powered the computer on. As he waited for the computer to go through its paces, he glanced around the chambers. It was in pristine order. How nice of the vandals to have spared this room, he thought sarcastically. Scanning the room, his eyes came to a rest on the file cabinet and its metallic lock sitting in the far corner of the room. Suddenly he became aware of the keys in his hands, wondering absently if he'd have need of them.

  The desktop came up without need of password entry. There was only one icon and it was aptly titled, VIDEO.

  He clicked on it.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  The husband's name was Jack Monroe. And he'd insisted that Josh go and get Seth from the car immediately. Seth, though a bit curious as to whose house it was and why they were there, hadn't wanted to get out of the car, only doing so when Josh told him that the reason they were there had something to do with Kallie.

  But thirty minutes into Mr. Monroe's spiel, Seth began to shake his head in disbelief. There were no such things as time-cycles. You got one shot at this life thing, one shot. That was it. He looked over at Josh, who was literally sitting on the edge of the couch, hanging on every word this old nutcase was saying. When Mr. Monroe finished talking, he sat back and regarded them both as if he'd just dropped some serious knowledge on them. And if the look of fascination plastered across Josh's face was any indication, he'd bought what the old man was selling hook, line, and sinker.

  Apparently pleased with himself, Mr. Monroe stood up. “Now, I'll go and get the book.”

  “You mean you have an actual copy?” Josh asked eagerly.

  “Copy?” Mr. Monroe said, scrunching his face. “Heck no. I have the original manuscript.” He left the room to retrieve it.

  Seth thought Josh would pee himself. Josh slapped the couch excitedly and looked at him as if Christmas had come early. “You don't seriously think…” he stopped himself. Of course Josh seriously thought, which was why he was acting like a gushing schoolgirl in the first place.

  “What's the problem?” Josh asked.

  “You're seriously asking me that?”

  “Yeah, I am.”

  “Kallie's holed up on some military base. We have no idea how we're going to get her out. Her grandmother's probably near death with worry. And here we are wasting time, listening to some old coot talking about his dead wife's visions. Now don't get me wrong. I'm sorry that she's gone. And I understand the old fella's probably lonely and missing her. But we shouldn't be encouraging him. Kallie is just Kallie. She's not this remembering thing the old guy's been talking about. Maybe people have premonitions. I'll grant you that. And no, I don't understand how those work either. But I know it's not because we've been here before. That's just not possible.”

  “Why are you being so close-minded about this?”

  Seth rolled his eyes. “Just because I'm not willing to believe this impossible nonsense doesn't mean I'm being close-minded. I'll admit it'll probably make a nice psychological discussion one day. But not right now. We should be thinking about Kallie.”

  Josh stood up and pointed an accusatory finger at Seth. “You are being close-minded and this is about Kallie. And you'd better seriously consider how you really feel about her and decide for yourself if you want to continue on this journey. Because like it or not, she believed in this impossible nonsense.”

  Seth had to hand it to him. It was an impassioned plea. And Josh had to have his reasons for giving it. But Seth knew Kallie. She hadn't mentioned anything to him about this so-called remembering ability or time-cycles. And he suspected the reason why was because she ultimately knew it was complete nonsense. Sitting around with your philosophical friends, expounding on the ramblings of dead philosophers and adding your old two cents worth on the ways of the universe was one thing. Young people did it all the time. But there came a time for serious thinking, a time to look the facts of life dead in the face and accept them for what they were. There was one shot at life. One. But he didn't say any of this to Josh because he understood that it wasn't his mind that was closed. It was Josh's.

  “Here it is,” Mr. Monroe said, reentering the room. He was carrying a bound sheaf of papers. “The original Book of Origins.” He handed it to Josh as if holding out a newborn baby. “Be careful with it. Bella said the papers were alive. Sometimes things in the future changed and she would make adjustments. It was rare, but it happened. And whenever it did, she either added pages to the book or erased and rewrote. I never understood her process and didn't question it. She did the entire book in shorthand, all seven hundred and thirty pages.” He paused, looking intently at Josh. “But you'll be able to understand it. It had been dictated to her in a dream by an angel.”

  Josh took the bound pages from him, holding them in his hands for a long minute, staring mesmerizingly at the cover.

  Seth rolled his eyes again and looked away.

  * * *

  McCarthy felt compelled to view the video again. It was his third time. It was an action-packed fifteen-minute film. The first time he'd watched it, he wondered how Swag had gotten the time and money to make it. It was definitely professionally done with lavish special effects. It was like something made out in Hollywood. But on his second viewing, he realized the how of the video didn't matter. It was the what, the why, and the when. After the third time, McCarthy's mind became as clear as spotless glass and he realized that his initial concerns about Swag had been ill placed and unjustified. The young man was pure salt. The purest salt of the earth. McCarthy x'ed out of the video and then powered down the computer. He didn't need to view it again. It was now deeply embedded in his mind. Even now, he could still see Swag's piercing eyes and hear his melodious voice. And now he knew the truth, the real truth. It was no longer hidden. Lucifer had been wronged. The powerful film had depicted it so clearly. The fallen angel had been unjustly deceived and falsely accused. But this time, things were going to be made right. Wrongs would be corrected. McCarthy stood up and walked over to the filing cabinet. He felt a strong sense of purpose and pride. He would have a part in the correction process. Lucifer was entrusting him with the ceremony! Oh great day! He held up the keys in his hand. The middle one would unlock the filing cabinet. The book containing the marrying words was in the top drawer. He pulled it out and whatever had rested on top of it dropped near his feet. He reached down and picked it up. It was a little plastic baggie. Holding it in front of his face, he saw the pair of earplugs. Absently, he put the curious little package in his pants pocket and then returned to his seat at Swag's desk with the book of ceremonial rituals. Slowly, he pulled back the cover and turned pages. The words to the wedding ceremony of angels and demons were on page 620.

  It would be his second wedding ceremony performed this month.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  They arrived at Kallie's grandmother's house shortly before eight o'clock. Josh had let Seth drive from Madame Isabel's house since Seth had been to Kallie's childhood home once before and knew the way. Plus, it gave Josh a chance to read the Book of Origins. He'd read it in the near darkness of the car, using only the soft illumination from the reading light located in the blinder. Mr. Monroe said it was his wife's wish that Josh and Seth be given the manuscript. Josh knew that revelation bothered Seth. How could anyone know what he was going to do before he'd actually done it? Seth couldn't grasp the concept of remembering and refused to try, dismissing it as utter nonsense. But Josh knew that the thing that really turned Seth's head was the part about the demons. Josh admitted to himself that it had probably been too much for Seth to take in one sitting. Josh hadn't wanted Seth to
hear any of it anyway since it involved Kallie. She should've been the one to tell Seth. But time and circumstance had prevented that. Besides, she would probably be the only one who could get Seth to believe any of it anyway.

  When Mr. Monroe had insisted that their stop at his house had already been known and that he'd been anxiously awaiting their arrival, Seth sucked his teeth noisily. Seth told them that life, for the most part, was a series of spontaneous events strung together. There existed either things of pure chance or things resulting from careful preparation, like beautiful flowers sprouting from the planting of seeds. But otherwise, he said plaintively, “The only thing one could truly predict about life was that it was truly unpredictable.” But Mr. Monroe had only smiled politely and continued on with his story, telling them that he'd been like a child listening to bedtime stories when his wife Bella talked of the future, sometimes even asking her to repeat the story. Seth folded his arms across his chest and stared at the ceiling.

  Twice on the ride to Kallie's grandmother's house he'd mumbled his disapproval of Josh's detour to Madame Isabel's. Firstly, complaining about the time wasted listening to that crap about eternal return and demons. The second mumbling was about how it was too late for them to come knocking at an elderly lady's door. “Ms. Hunt most likely wouldn't even open it.” Josh considered Seth's first point highly debatable. But his second point was immediately proved categorically wrong. The door opened before he could rap it a second time.

  The old woman stood in the doorway. She'd been crying. Even in the combined dimmed illumination of the porch light and half-moon, Josh could see her tears, stringing down her face like shiny gray streaks of silver. “Oh Seth,” she cried out, reaching up and hugging him around the neck. “Is Kallie with you? Tell me she's with you! Tell me she's all right.”

  Seth folded his head atop hers. “No ma'am.” The words sounded as if they were being piped in from the bowels of the earth. “She's not with me.”

  Her knees buckled and then she collapsed into Seth's arms. Josh helped him take her to the living room where they laid her down gently on the sofa. Seth hurriedly left the room, coming back almost immediately with a glass of water.

  “Here, Ms. Hunt. Drink this,” Seth said.

  She lifted her head slightly and took a tiny sip from the glass before waving it away. “What happened to my grandbaby?”

  Seth told her everything he knew, but purposefully and perhaps smartly, left out the parts about Mr. Monroe, remembering, and demons. However, Josh could see realization trying to nip at Seth's core of disbelief during the telling of the government's involvement. A puzzled look had crossed his face when he tried to explain that part to Ms. Hunt. Josh could imagine the question Seth was asking himself. Why would the government believe that Kallie would know anything about a terrorist attack? Simply because she'd had a vision of some sort? Surely, the government was made up of smarter people than him. But just as the seed of doubt tried to surface, Seth just as quickly and stubbornly pushed it back down.

  “What would the government want with my baby?” Ms. Hunt asked.

  “We don't know exactly,” Josh said, before realizing he hadn't been formally introduced. “I'm Josh Levy, by the way. I'm a friend of your granddaughter's.”

  Seth pleaded with his eyes for Josh not to say anything about demons or Kallie's so-called remembering ability. It wasn't necessary. Josh had no intention of delving into those waters with Ms. Hunt, figuring the woman presently had enough to wrap her head around.

  “We're going to the base in the morning and demand that they let us see her,” Seth said.

  There was determination in his voice and it seemed to spark something in Ms. Hunt. She sat up on the sofa and reached for the glass of water that Seth had placed on the coffee table. A slight frown crossed her face for a moment at the slight condensation ring left on the table. She took a long gulp and swallowed noisily. She pulled a coaster from the stack next to the table's flower centerpiece and placed the glass on it. She looked at Seth. “I appreciate you willing to do that. I know how much Kallie means to you. But your demands won't mean a thing to the military. They only understand hierarchy, or chain of command. My late husband used to say that all the time. He was a veteran of the Second World War.”

  “So you're saying there's nothing we can do?” Seth said. He sounded defeated, a complete turnabout from the moment before.

  “No,” Ms. Hunt said. “You just have to follow the rules of hierarchy.”

  “But who should we call?” Josh chimed in. “The president?”

  “Well, I don't know him personally,” Ms. Hunt said, “but I do know someone. And he's very close to Kallie.”

  * * *

  At ten o'clock that night, Kallie was finally taken back to her room. She'd been grilled for eight straight hours with Bennett hurling question after question at her. But after the first hour, it became apparent that all he'd really wanted to know was the name of the man in the photograph. Every question he asked eventually circled back to that one. It became monotonous. It was his personal version of congress' historically repetitious, “What do you know and when did you know it?” She surmised that he suspected it was Father Frank McCarthy's figure in the photograph, but was unable to prove it. After a while, even Bennett became bored with his charade and sent her back to her room, though with a promise to pursue the same line of questioning bright and early in the morning.

  She couldn't wait.

  * * *

  Across town, Johnny Swag checked into a Motel 6. It was an older one. The exterior refinish of the place was a flaky white and blue, some of which had peeled off and now flickered in the wind like broken off, fake painted fingernails. The place's cement stairs looked worn, as if giants had spent centuries trampling up and down them. The interior of his room was only slightly better, although there was a large dark stain on the carpet in front of the television. He'd checked in at a quarter to eleven. And from the looks of the clientele checking in at the same time, Swag guessed that no one came to the motel for its ambiance, which was fine by him. He felt amongst his elements. Personal gratification was definitely the ticket. After he'd signed his name on the registration card, he made eye contact with a lady of the night and had thought what the hay. He had almost another full day to kill.

  * * *

  The Hunt house had four bedrooms, including the guest bedroom where Seth slept the night. Josh spent the majority of the night in the living room, his nose buried deep in the Book of Origins. But eventually sleep conquered him as well, and he succumbed to it from his spot on the sofa. During the night, Ms. Hunt brought out a quilt and laid it atop him.

  The next morning, the three of them awoke at five o'clock sharp, neither needing the aid of an alarm nor a nudge from the others. Anxiety and anticipation of what the day would or would not bring yanked them all back to fearful wakefulness.

  As soon as her feet touched floor, Ms. Hunt washed up in the bathroom and headed for the kitchen. Not long after, the house was filled with the sweet smells of scrambled eggs, percolating grits, fried bacon, and toasting bread. The scintillating scent tickled Josh's nose, reminding him of his own childhood home. Still, his appetite had been suppressed by his concern for Kallie and the task of what lay ahead of them. But he scoffed the breakfast down anyway for fear of offending Ms. Hunt. He could tell that seeing them both eat so heartily comforted her somehow, temporarily masking the fact that her granddaughter was thirty miles close, but under military lock and key, and the only hope for her immediate release was dependent upon the tender mercy and political ability of the girl's estranged father.

  After he managed to swallow the last of his second plate of eggs, Josh pushed back from the table and placed the finally empty plate in the kitchen sink. He picked up the bottle of dish detergent and started to squirt some into the sink.

  Ms. Hunt was still sitting at the table. When she saw what he was up to, her nostrils flared. “Drop that detergent where you stand. I'll take care of the dis
hes.”

  Josh turned to her. “I don't mind, really. It's not fair for you to cook us breakfast and then have to wash dishes.”

  Ms. Hunt softened a little, flaring only one nostril. “You're a well-mannered young man and I appreciate the offer. But I'll do my own dishes, thank you very much. Now, would you kindly back away from my sink?” Her eyes fixed sternly on his and the other nostril slowly began flexing again.

  Seth stuffed the last of a bacon strip into his mouth. “Better do as she says, Josh. I've been down that road before. It ain't pretty.”

  Josh slowly backed away from the sink. Almost instantly, Seth and Ms. Hunt broke out in fierce laughter. Josh looked at them oddly for a moment. He smiled hesitantly and then started laughing right along with them. The three of them laughed as if they'd never heard anything so funny. They held their stomachs and sniffed back laughter-induced snot. When their laughter finally chuckled to a stop, Josh wiped a tear from his eye. He knew the reason behind the laughter. It had been strictly diversionary, a futile attempt at masking the improbable plot of the foolhardy. Their plan was a difficult one at best. Asking a sitting United States congressman to intervene in a Homeland Security matter related to national security was unwise. The congressman would likely laugh in their faces anyway, even if they were interceding on his daughter's behalf.