The Other Brother

by Brandon Massey

  "Move!" Isaiah shouted. He shoved the guy aside and kept running.

  His plan was crumbling to pieces. Gabriel, just like in his dream last night, had used some crazy power to deflect the knife.

  Isaiah had thought he was the only one with a gift. But Gabriel had one, too. Didn't that just figure? The golden boy still had the edge.

  It didn't matter anymore. Soon, the cops would be after him. He wasn't going to prison again. No motherfuckin' way. He'd rather die.

  He sprinted like a track runner down the hallway, feet slapping across the tile. Nurses and doctors and orderlies and patients-no doubt terrified at the thought of a black man on the run and probably thinking he had stolen something or killed someone-scattered like frightened mice out of his path.

  He was on the fourth floor. He had to get to the exit and, somehow, back to his car at his father's crib.

  The stairwell lay ahead. He couldn't risk getting trapped in an elevator. Within minutes every rent-a-cop in the hospital would be searching for him.

  He glanced over his shoulder.

  Gabriel was in the hallway, coming after him.

  Isaiah felt in his pocket the pen he'd stolen from Gabriel's desk.

  His plan might have fallen apart. But he still had a few tricks left.

  Gabriel spotted Isaiah at the end of the corridor. Isaiah pushed through a door and disappeared into the stairwell.

  Gabriel followed, wishing he had a gun, a knife, some kind of weapon. Then he remembered his telekinesis, which had thrown the spinning blade off course, saving Pops's life.

  He already possessed the only weapon he needed.

  Righteous anger pumped through his blood, juiced up his muscles. He was ready for a fight with Isaiah, had been eager for a showdown with this guy from the beginning. He didn't want to kill him. No, he wanted to beat him down, pulverize him as punishment for everything he'd done to him and his family and then, when he was finished with him, he'd turn him over to the cops, because he was certain Isaiah had murdered Nicole's boyfriend.

  Gabriel shouldered through the stairwell door. Dim light illuminated the staircase. He heard Isaiah's footsteps beneath him, clapping down the steps.

  Gabriel pounded down the first flight of stairs. He reached the landing and rounded the corner for the next flight.

  He almost stepped on a water moccasin.

  He screamed, lost his balance, and tumbled down the stairs.

  The snake was sprawled over the top half of the steps, as though it had been dumped there out of a sack. Gabriel rolled down the stairs, having the presence of mind to shift to avoid the reptile despite his rough fall.

  He crashed onto the landing below, his body knotted in pain. He'd bitten his tongue. Salty blood filled his mouth.

  "Got you, motherfucker," Isaiah said.

  Isaiah seized him by the front of his shirt and hauled him upright. He shoved Gabriel against the wall. Gabriel threw a punch at him but was so disoriented that his aim was off the mark. Isaiah smashed a fist into his stomach. Agony forced Gabriel to bend double, clutching his abdomen. Isaiah rammed his knee underneath Gabriel's chin and Gabriel's teeth clacked together like dry bones.

  Gabriel collapsed to the floor, his head spinning.

  "That's how we do it in the hood," Isaiah said with a cold grin. Looming over Gabriel, he held a silver pen in one hand, rubbing the tip with his thumb.

  Gabriel recognized the pen as belonging to him. He thought he'd misplaced it. Now he realized Isaiah had stolen it. But why?

  "This here pen gives me the power to hack into that fat head of yours," Isaiah said. "A personal item. That's all I need to work my magic."

  Pulling himself upright, Gabriel lunged for the pen. Isaiah kicked him in the ribs. Gabriel let out a yelp, sagged to the floor again.

  Coiled on the stairs above, the snake hissed. Although Gabriel had learned how Isaiah was creating the hallucinations, it made the snake no less frightening. It began to slither toward Gabriel, evil eyes hungry.

  "You told me how much you hate snakes, little brother," Isaiah said.

  "It's not real," Gabriel said in a weak voice. But his heart pounded so loudly the vibrations seemed to transmit to the cement beneath him, making the entire floor tremble. "Not real."

  The snake undulated over the last of the steps and drew closer to Gabriel's legs. Dull light gleamed on its scales.

  "Your mind makes it real," Isaiah said. "If it bites you, you might die."

  Gabriel tried to scoot backward.

  Isaiah grabbed him around his neck and wrestled him into a headlock. Air wheezed through Gabriel's nostrils. His stomach hurt, his ribs and jaw ached, and he struggled to maintain his hold on consciousness.

  The snake touched Gabriel's foot. It rose, preparing to strike.

  Isaiah gripped the pen in his free hand. Gabriel, his palms afire, strained to lift his arm. He concentrated on pushing the pen out of Isaiah's grasp.

  The snake opened its mouth, exposing long fangs dressed in venom.

  Move.

  The pen spun out of Isaiah's fingers and clinked down the stairs below.

  "Shit!" Isaiah said.

  The water moccasin had vanished.

  It was never there to begin with.

  Gabriel drove his elbow backward, thrusting it into Isaiah's gut. Isaiah gasped, and his hold on Gabriel loosened. Gabriel dropped to one knee and flipped Isaiah over his shoulder. Isaiah hit the floor and bounced down the steps like a broken doll.

  Sucking in painful breaths, Gabriel went after him.

  Although he had to be hurting, Isaiah quickly got his legs under him. He retrieved the pen from the floor and scrambled to the next flight of steps leading down.

  Gabriel reached the bottom of the landing and hustled around the corner.

  Another water moccasin awaited him on the stairs.

  Stifling a scream, Gabriel froze in midstep.

  Come on, damn it. You know it's not real.

  Already at the bottom of the steps, Isaiah glanced up at him and grinned. He waved the pen in the air like a victor's flag.

  He was going to get away.

  Hissing, the snake slithered toward Gabriel. Gabriel retreated against the wall.

  He heard a door open below. Isaiah's footsteps dwindled into silence.

  The water moccasin glared at Gabriel for a few seconds, daring him to make a move. Then it dissolved into nothingness and Gabriel was left gaping at the empty stairs below.

  Chapter 4 8

  chile Dana and Gabriel's mother kept a vigil at Nicole's bedside and spoke to the hospital's security staff, Gabriel and his father drove to Nicole's town house in Buckhead. Gabriel had an awful feeling about Nicole's boyfriend and he wanted to verify his suspicions with his own eyes before they involved the police.

  He and his father exchanged barely ten words during the drive. Avoiding Gabriel's gaze, Pops fidgeted with Nicole's house key, which Mom, fortunately, had kept in her purse.

  Gabriel figured that Pops was ashamed. But he said nothing to alleviate his father's humiliation; he wanted to let him stew in it for a while, and perhaps then he'd grasp the severity of what he'd done, the damage to the family he'd allowed to occur, and how close they had come to a complete meltdown.

  It went without saying that Gabriel's birthday party, scheduled to take place that evening at the 755 Club, was going to be canceled.

  Gabriel parked in front of the town house. Pops tried to insert the key in the door lock but his hands trembled so badly he couldn't drive the key into the slot. Gabriel nudged his father aside, slid the key into the lock, and turned it. He began to open the door.

  A rank stench seeped through the crack. Gabriel's stomach churned and he covered his mouth with his hand.

  "Oh, Jesus," Pops said. He pressed a handkerchief to his lips.

  Gabriel pushed open the door all the way.

  Allen lay sprawled in the hallway. His skin had begun to turn blue. His eyes stared blindly at the ceiling. Dried blood
outlined a gash in his neck like a grotesque collar, and more blood had congealed around his body like spilled crimson paint.

  Isaiah. He hadn't even bothered to hide the guy's body.

  Pops stumbled away from Gabriel's side, bent double, and vomited.

  Biting his knuckle to stem his own gag reflex, Gabriel stepped inside. He was careful not to touch anything and risk contaminating the crime scene, knowledge he'd gleaned from shows like CSl.

  Nothing on a television forensics crime show, however, would adequately explain how Isaiah was able to do the things he did. Mixing up Nicole's mind like a blended drink. Making Gabriel see illusions of snakes....

  Gabriel detected movement across the living room, in a mirror.

  He carefully navigated his way around the corpse. He moved closer to the glass.

  On previous occasions he'd gained a vision of a blurry, shadowy figure in the mirror, a phantom of indeterminate identity and origin.

  Finally the mystery was unveiled. It was clearly reflected back to him, as vivid as the living room behind him.

  He was looking at Isaiah.

  Isaiah had escaped the hospital by the most conventional of means: he caught a taxi in front of the main entrance. He gave the driver, a guy from some Caribbean nation who played reggae on the car radio, the address to his father's house.

  Thirty minutes later he was in his Chevy Chevelle, speeding away. He'd left his luggage inside the house. Although he'd made copies of the house keys, he didn't have time to go inside. When the cops were after you, every second of freedom was crucial.

  Besides, he already had the most important things to ensure his survival: his own mind-and his loaded Glock.

  He would return to the house some other time.

  He drove at the speed limit on 1-285, heading north. He wasn't sure yet where he was going to go. The only thing he knew for sure was that he needed to get away from ATL for a few days, maybe longer, and let the heat cool off.

  As he barreled down the highway, he glanced in the rearview mirror-and saw something that nearly made him lose control of the car.

  Gabriel was reflected in the mirror, and he was staring at him.

  Gabriel focused so intently on the phenomena in the mirror that he had temporarily forgotten he was in the presence of a dead man, steeped in the putrid smell of death.

  Gabriel had a clear look at Isaiah, as though a psychic mirror were positioned in front of Isaiah and Gabriel's eyes were embedded in the glass itself. A lucid, frontal view.

  Isaiah was in his car. Driving. Sweat drenched Isaiah's brow and he wiped the back of his hand across his face.

  Then Isaiah's gaze flicked upward, checking a rearview mirror.

  Isaiah's eyes widened with surprise.

  He sees me, Gabriel realized. Just like I'm seeing him, he's seeing me, too.

  A sense of wonder, cool as water, rippled down his back.

  Isaiah's eyes hardened to gray points. He spat out a stream of words. But Gabriel could not hear him, and he was unable to read Isaiah's lips.

  Isaiah flipped Gabriel a middle finger.

  "Fuck you, too!" Gabriel shouted.

  Isaiah pointed at Gabriel with his index finger. He shouted something else.

  "I can't hear you, idiot," Gabriel said, and indicated his ears.

  Isaiah spoke more slowly, and Gabriel suddenly comprehended the movement of his lips: This ain't over little brother.

  Isaiah raised a handgun to the mirror and pointed it toward Gabriel.

  Bang, Isaiah said.

  Gabriel turned away from the glass. Pops leaned against the doorway, clearly making an effort to avoid the corpse. His face was haggard and he dabbed at his lips with his handkerchief.

  "You were talking to someone over there," Pops said. "Who?"

  Gabriel ignored the question. "Isaiah did this, Pops. He'll be back"

  "How ... how do you know?"

  Gabriel glanced at the mirror. Isaiah's face had vanished.

  "Gut feeling," Gabriel said.

  Part Three

  FATHER'S DAY

  It doesn't matter who my father was; it matters who I remember he was.

  -Anne Sexton

  Chapter 49

  he following week, life returned to normal for the Reids ... - as normal as possible, considering the threat that had almost dismantled their family.

  Nicole's health improved. She gradually regained her mental faculties, and, by midweek, her physician released her from the hospital and said she should be able to return to her ordinary activities within a week or so.

  But Nicole's emotional wounds, exacerbated by Allen's grisly murder, were slow to fade, and when she slept (with the aid of drugs), she usually had nightmares.

  The Atlanta Police Department issued an all-points bulletin for Isaiah Battle, seeking to charge him in the murder of Allen Tyson and the attempted murder of T.L. Reid. Forensic tests confirmed that the knife Isaiah had hurled at T.L. Reid was the same weapon he'd used to kill Allen. He was considered armed and extremely dangerous. Isaiah's former prison mug shot was plastered in the newspapers and on television, along with a list of his previous feloniesand the account of his miraculous life-after-death escape from the Chicago morgue, which officials were quick to downplay as a simple medical misdiagnosis. Allowing the public to believe that Isaiah had somehow cheated death would only incite the city into a panic.

  Everyone was on the lookout for Isaiah. It comforted the Reid family to know that the authorities were working hard on their behalf, but the police department's eagerness to apprehend Isaiah had an unexpected downside: mistaking Gabriel for Isaiah, the cops approached him three times within the space of a few days. In one instance they had Gabriel handcuffed and pinned against his car before they bothered to check his driver's license.

  Gabriel decided that until the situation cooled down, or Isaiah was found, he would spend most of his time at home. He telecommuted for work, and Dana brought him groceries and other items. It was a necessary measure, but he hated it. He felt as though he were under house arrest.

  Even though Isaiah had disappeared, he was still making Gabriel's life miserable.

  On Friday afternoon, almost a week after the incident at the hospital, Pops visited Gabriel.

  "Sorry to drop in unannounced," Pops said. "I was on the way home from the office and wanted to see how you were doing."

  "Been working hard all day," Gabriel said. "I was about to get a beer. Want one?"

  "That would hit the spot" Pops removed his suit jacket and hung it on the coat hanger in the foyer. "It's been a long day-hell, a long week"

  "Tell me about it." Gabriel grabbed two Heinekens out of the refrigerator. He popped off the caps and handed a beer to his father.

  He watched Pops take a long sip.

  Other than brief discussions related to company business, Gabriel had not had a conversation with Pops all week. He sensed that Pops was still embarrassed, especially with the media attention. The media had depicted Pops as a sentimental fool for so quickly welcoming Isaiah into the family. If there was one thing Pops had always sought to avoid during his years as a high-profile entrepreneur, it was waving his dirty laundry in front of the public eye. Gabriel was certain Pops worried that his portrayal in the news as a man who lacked the good sense to run his household properly might damage his hard-earned reputation as a shrewd businessman.

  But what had brought Pops to Gabriel's home? His father was a man of purpose; he didn't believe in idle chatter. He would have visited Gabriel only for a good reason.

  Pops leaned against the kitchen counter. "How've you been holding up?"

  "I've been picking up the pieces. It's been a headache. It's going to take months to clean up my credit."

  "I'm glad you'd saved enough to buy a car. I always taught you that if you saved your money, one day it would save you"

  "You were right," Gabriel said.

  While waiting on the insurance payment for his totaled SUV, Gabriel had dipped
into his investment funds the only accounts Isaiah hadn't plundered-and purchased a new vehicle. A used one, actually: a Nissan Xterra. It was a big step down from the fully loaded Lincoln Navigator he'd used to drive, but he didn't care. He was past the days of trying to impress people.

  "Can I see the new ride?" Pops asked.

  "Come on"

  Gabriel led his father into the garage. The silver Xterra gleamed, thanks to a recent wash and wax.

  Pops ran his fingers across the hood. "Looks good."

  "Thanks" Gabriel opened the driver's-side door and slid behind the steering wheel. "It's the first car I've ever bought on my own, you know."

  "It is, isn't it?" Pops said. Hands on his knees, he studied the dashboard. "I would've bought you a new car, if you'd asked. You know that"

  "I know, Pops, and I appreciate it. But I had to do this on my own"

  Grunting, Pops straightened. He sipped his beer.

  "How's Dana?" Pops asked.

  "She's fine. She's coming over later this evening for dinner."

  "Good, good. Anything else going on?"

  Climbing out of the jeep, Gabriel shrugged. "Just taking it day by day."

  "I hear ya" Pops took another sip of beer.

  Why wouldn't his father get to the point? It was odd to see Pops so unsure of himself. In retrospect, however, Gabriel had learned a lot about his father recently-and most of it wasn't flattering.

  "I haven't seen or heard from Isaiah, if that's what you're wondering," Gabriel said. "I think he'll pop up again, but I don't know when or where. In the meantime I'm staying alert."

  "No more gut feelings about it?"

  "Nothing I haven't already told you"

  Gabriel was being truthful. Not only had he not seen or heard from Isaiah, he had not experienced another incident of viewing his brother in a mirror. He hadn't had any unusual dreams. He hadn't seen any illusory snakes. His telekinetic ability, too, had deserted him. He was once again just ordinary Gabriel Reid like Peter Parker stripped of his SpiderMan talents.