by Jeff Altabef
Petal says, “What are you going to tell Mother about us?”
“All I know is that I found Frankie near the main road. He tried to take off his pendant, and well, the explosives are real. He was a stupid creep, so she’ll probably believe me. Without any evidence to the contrary, it’ll be my word versus that of a dead psychopath. Don’t do anything else stupid. I don’t need another burning tomorrow.”
He bends down and picks Frankie up fireman style, throws him across his shoulders, and stalks off.
Megan loops an arm around Petal’s shoulders and helps her head back to the cabin. One thought sticks in her mind.
At least now I’ll get to go back into one of the chapels and talk to God again.
One part of the puzzle is clearer—this mess with Megan and Kate is partly my fault, and I’ll find a way to fix it. I’m not sure why, but too many coincidences involving me are piling up, like cars in a wreck on a highway.
Tina has wormed her way into the front beside Gabriel. That’s good with me. I can use a little space to think, so I jump in the backseat and shake the rain from my hair.
Gabriel asks, “Learn anything new?”
“Just an empty, dusty, old building.”
Tina sighs, “What have you done? Who are these Farm assholes, and why do they know you?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never heard of them before.”
“Right, but they know you,” says Tina. “We know they thought Megan was special. Maybe they targeted her because they knew you had a relationship with Kate. Maybe Megan and Kate would’ve been fine if it wasn’t for you. You’re the turd in the middle of the toilet clogging up all the pipes.”
“Maybe.” I can’t argue with her, but I don’t see how they could have connected me to Kate. I hadn’t seen her for sixteen years. Even if someone knew about our prior relationship, it would take a huge leap to assume she’d contact me to help. And how could they have identified me so easily from the surveillance video? My file is a ghost in the system. The only possibilities left are my identification card and my alias as a bodyguard for Samuel Jeffries, and that ID is specifically set up as a dark piece of info in the system. It can’t be accessed any other way except through the ID card.
“That’s all you’ve got to say,” Tina huffs. “Maybe.”
Gabriel starts the SUV. “Arguing about the why won’t help us. The Farm people are the bad guys in this. We need to focus on how we’re going to take them down and get Kate and Megan back. That’s our priority, right?”
He doesn’t wait for an answer and pulls from the curb. “Let’s go to Walden. That way, when we get the intel from my asset in the cult, we’ll be in position to move quickly.”
“Let’s stay in a town outside of Walden,” I suggest. “Walden’s a small place and we’re not going to blend in well. I don’t want anyone to warn them we’re on our way. As far as the cult knows, we have no idea how to find them. We have the element of surprise.”
“Great idea,” says Gabriel.
“How about Gochen?” Tina hands me her phone with a map on the screen. “It’s ten miles away from Walden and there’s a motel right off the highway.”
The stretch between Gochen and Walden consists of mostly empty space. Must be farm country, but Gochen looks far enough away from Walden that we should be all right. At least for a day. Any more than that, and someone will ask us questions. Besides, I’ll go out of my mind worrying about Kate if we’re stuck more than a day.
“Looks good,” I say.
Gabriel navigates onto the highway and heads for the country. No checkpoints slow traffic on the big highways. Originalists use checkpoints only for the cities and suburbs. The rich rely upon massive gates, and their private police in rural areas, to keep away unwanted vehicles or visitors.
Gabriel drives fast, swerving around the few cars on the road.
Tina tosses out random questions about my past that explode in her mind like firecrackers. “How many enemies have you made over the years?”
“Too many to count. Most are overseas.”
“Makes sense. You’re a prickly person.”
I agree and add that it takes one to know one. Gabriel chuckles, but that does little to slow Tina down.
“How many people in the country would like to kill you?”
“Including you?”
“You bet your skinny ass,” she says.
Gabriel laughs a full body laugh at that one.
I sigh. “At least a dozen, but none of them know about my history with Kate. I haven’t told anyone about her, and I haven’t seen her in a long time. I also can’t imagine any of them involved with a cult. It’s a dead end. Believe me. I’ve wracked my brain about it.”
Tina eventually slows her verbal assault. When she’s out of ammo, she points out the window and asks, “What the fuck is that?”
“Terrafarm.” I felt the same way the first time I saw one. The massive farm sticks out like a spaceship. The greenhouse is three stories tall, made of a new composite material to regulate heat and keep moisture inside the building. Spotlights reflect off specially designed mirrored surfaces that provide light to the first two tiers, enabling low-light plants to grow.
“I’ve heard about them, but I’ve never seen one,” says Tina.
“The government doesn’t like to publicize them, but there aren’t many old-fashioned farms left. The land is too polluted, and the hotter weather makes most of them useless.”
“That’s where we get our food?” asks Tina.
“If you can call it that,” grumbles Gabriel.
I add, “Most of the foodstuff they generate gets ground down and shipped to labs where they shape it and add chemicals to make it taste like real food.”
“What about animals? Is it true that they have six-foot tall chickens and pigs as big as cars?” asks Tina.
“You don’t want to know,” I say. “Best not to think about it or you’ll never eat again.”
“How do you know so much about it anyway?” huffs Tina.
“I used to work for a guy who ran a large food consortium.”
“Maybe he’s the one who’s connected to this?”
“No chance. He’s dead.”
Tina sighs, “Does everyone die around you?”
“Not everyone,” says Gabriel. “I mean, I came close a couple of times, but I’m still kicking.”
“Great,” mutters Tina.
I can’t blame her. People die around me. It’s only one of the reasons I never tried to find Kate.
Gabriel’s phone pings with a new message from Mary. She’s sent him satellite surveillance of the two farms in Walden. We’ll study them later.
Twenty minutes pass, and Tina asks, “What’s wrong with us?”
Gabriel answers, “I’m just about perfect, but we can talk all day about Steven’s issues.”
“No kidding,” I say. “And you’re not perfect either.”
Tina sounds dispirited. “I didn’t mean us as in the three of us. I meant us as in the human race. We’ve dry humped the planet so much we can’t grow real food anymore, and people would rather spend time in virtual reality pods than with real people. I hope the ancient aliens come back and take over. It can’t be worse.”
“Ancient aliens?” asks Gabriel.
“Not again,” I say. “Please, I’m begging you.”
Luckily, Tina doesn’t start in on aliens again and lets the conversation die. She’s right though. We’ve totally screwed things up.
After another thirty minutes in silence, we see signs for Gochen. Gabriel turns off the highway and pulls into a motel parking lot. It’s part of a national chain. Old, but bright, and in decent shape. The parking lot is filled with big rigs and old pickup trucks used by farmers.
We pile out. I grab my duffel, and it feels good to stretch.
Gabriel leads the way to the manager’s office to rent a few rooms for the night. The small, well-lit office has a TV hung on one wall and a long counter on the other si
de of the room. Dingy gray tiles cover the floor, some cracked.
Gabriel pings the old-fashioned bell on the counter, and the manager emerges.
My heart skips a beat.
Father Paul smiles at me.
I resist the almost titanic urge to jump over the counter and strangle Father Paul.
He plays it cool and pretends he doesn’t know me. “How can I help you? One king room for all three?” He winks at Tina.
“Over my dead body,” she says.
“We’ll need three rooms on the second floor, facing the parking lot.” Gabriel places a Homeland ID on the counter and a Homeland credit card.
Paul scoops up both, taps the credit card against a reader, and hands them back to Gabriel. “Anything to help Uncle Sam. My name is Paul, but my friends call me Paulie. Let me know if you need anything else.”
He says that last bit while looking at me and then hands Gabriel three card keys. “Rooms 215, 216, and 217. My best.”
Gabriel grunts and walks out. We go up the stairs and find our rooms. Gabriel hands me the key to room 217 and the one to 216 to Tina.
I say, “Let’s meet up in Gabriel’s room in an hour. I need to take a shower and think.”
The others agree, and I unlock my door. Standard motel room. Just enough space for a double bed, small flat screen television hung on one wall, and a dresser with three drawers. The bathroom looks clean. I toss my duffel under the bed and retrace my steps back to the manager’s office.
The office is empty. I bang on the bell with three sharp jabs.
The door behind the counter opens and Paul steps through. “I hope the room is up to your standards.”
“Moonlighting as a motel manager. Seems like an odd job for a priest.”
“It’s not so odd, if you think about it. I offer shelter to weary travelers and listen to their stories. I even offer advice when they’re willing to listen.”
“I went back to St. Thomas and met a real priest there. He’s never heard of you. He said the church is being shut down for good this Sunday. That the place has been closed all week.”
“It’s truly a shame they’ve decided to close that church. They could do such good from it, but they don’t see it. Pity.”
I ball my hands into fists. “I don’t want to talk about churches. I want answers! Why are these demons after me?”
“That’s the wrong question to ask for now. Who cares why? All that matters is they want you.”
I vault over the counter to his side, penning him in. “Why do they want Kate and Megan? Does that have anything to do with me?”
He shrugs. “Certain things I can’t see or know. Again, it’s the wrong question for now.”
I grab his neck with both of my hands and squeeze. “Well, maybe this is the right question—which farm are they holding them at? I need to know.”
I squeeze his throat in a tight Fort Knox grip, yet he calmly pries my fingers away. His eyes flash a strange blue, a light from within. I remove my knife from my jacket pocket and press the point against his chest.
“I’ve washed this in holy water like you suggested. Now answer my question.”
He grins. “I’m happy you listened to me, Steven, but that knife won’t hurt me. Holy water is like vitamin water to me. You’d have to burn the steel in hellfire for it to harm me. Hopefully, you don’t have any of that handy. Hellfire stinks. You can’t get the reek out of your clothes. It’s worse than being stuck by a campfire all day. Might as well burn them.”
My hands shake. I’m not sure what to believe. Either way, I can’t stab him. If the knife works, he’ll die and that’ll do me no good. If it doesn’t, I’ve made the wrong enemy, so I slip it back into my jacket.
He touches my arm. “You can’t force me to tell you what you want to know.” He glances upward and then smiles a wry grin at me. “All I can say is that He’s provided you enough information to figure it out. To figure everything out. And even that could get me in trouble. Trust your instincts, go back to Gabriel, and look closely at what he has to show you.”
“And this choice I have to make. The one you mentioned in the church.”
He puts both of his hands on my shoulders. “I really like you, Steven. I’m rooting for you. I know you’re special and will be important in the days to come. I’d much rather have you as an ally than an adversary. You will be presented with a choice. We all are, but yours is imminent. It won’t be an easy choice to make. You must decide. Are you working for angels or demons? You can’t straddle the fence. Dedicating yourself to God is a difficult path. It takes faith.”
“And this has something to do with the Great Struggle you mentioned before?”
“Everything.”
“You don’t understand. I’m a killer. What use could God have for me?”
“Every war involves killing. It’s regrettable, yet unavoidable. And the Great Struggle is the biggest of all wars. God has a place for you in his army. If you’re willing to accept it.” He releases me. “I have other business to attend to.”
“Like what?”
“For starters, I should wake up the manager. Man, that guy can drink. Give him a free bottle of tequila, salt and limes, and he’s as happy as a fish in a coral reef. I’ll be seeing you.”
Paul opens the door behind him and disappears.
I can’t just let him leave. I want more answers, so I storm after him, but when I open the door, he’s gone. A middle-aged fat man sits on a bed in a drunken stupor. Two empty tequila bottles lie on the floor amid dozens of used lime slices. The room stinks of alcohol and sweat.
He looks up at me and slurs his words. “Who are...you?”
“Good question.”
I shut the door.
Paul left me alone once again, and one strange thought bullies aside all the others in my mind. For some reason, I have a harder time believing in angels than demons.
Why the hell is that?
Darkness, complete and heavy, wraps around Kate and threatens to smother her. She feels as if she’s suspended in space. A cold and miserable space, without any stars or planets to brighten the suffocating blackness. It doesn’t help that the monsters who took her chained her hands to a rafter above her, so she can’t sit or move.
She’s unsure how long she’s been strung up like this. Her arms and back hurt. The prick who punched her in the stomach at her apartment surely cracked one or two of her ribs. Each breath hurts.
The door opens, and a shape steps inside. She carries a small, digital lantern that shrouds her in light, as if she’s actually wearing a cloak made of energy. At first, Kate squints at the light and it burns her eyes, but she quickly adjusts. The light dances off the woman’s multicolored robe, glimmering off silver sequins like glittering stars.
Kate tries to focus on the woman’s face; something about her looks familiar, but the sudden light in the darkness blurs her features. “Where’s my daughter? What have you done to her?”
“Megan is fine. More than fine. She’s an Angel now.”
Kate struggles against the chains. “An Angel? Let me see her!”
“That’s not going to happen anytime soon.”
The voice.
Kate knows that voice, and an arctic blast freezes her. It’s amazing how appearances change over time, yet voices stay the same as if it comes from inside a person, comprising more of a person’s essence than his or her appearance.
“You’re Steven’s mom, aren’t you?”
The woman moves forward and the light around her shifts.
Kate sees her face and now she’s certain. Healthy and confident, this woman looks different than the one Kate remembers. Almost as if she’s been cured from a soul-sucking illness, given an unexpected reprieve from a terminal disease.
Ivy steps closer to Kate. “At first, I didn’t know what Steven saw in you. You’re beautiful, but other than that, I thought you were — ordinary. Now I know better. I’ve been watching you the last few years, and you are special. Strong. S
mart. Capable.”
“Unchain me and I’ll show you how capable I am.”
“Yes, I see it now.” Ivy smiles. “I would have realized it earlier, but I wasn’t myself back then. Pity. We could have made a great team. The three of us. You, me, and Steven.”
“A team? Steven despises you.”
Ivy shrugs. “I wasn’t the best mother. I’ll grant you that.”
“Not the best mother? You killed his father and you tried to kill him. You terrorized your own son.”
“Let’s not argue over trifles. I wasn’t a good mother. That’s my fault and I own it. Back then, I didn’t understand. I do now. Once I explain things to him, he’ll change his mind about me. We’re going to be a team. Now we can add Megan. She’s an extraordinary young woman. And maybe you. That part will be up to you.”
“Why do you need Megan? The last I heard you were selling drugs for a gang.”
“Things change. I’ve moved up in the world, become an entrepreneur. We provide experiences that are even better than real life, and if we make them addictive in the process, can you really blame us? Others did it before us. Coke initially used real cocaine in the formula, cigarette companies altered the amount of nicotine to create cravings, and technology companies design apps to make them addictive. We’ve just improved on that process. We can addict millions immediately, or slowly over time, depending upon our desires.” Ivy smiles smugly. “I’ve come a long way from selling drugs on the street corner. I’ve perfected capitalism.”
Kate imagines a world of zombies all storming to Otherworldly shops, but that doesn’t explain why she’s stealing girls? “You don’t need Megan or any of the other girls for that.”
“I’m not going to sugarcoat it—sex sells. And some depraved men like young girls. They want to feel young again even if they suck it out of someone else. Sick, weak people really.” She frowns. “Sadly, there are limits to my control over the operation. As profitable as we have become, delivering Angels to rich men across the world provides record profit margins.”
Kate strains against her chains. “You’re selling my Megan to a rich foreigner?”
