by Brian Rella
“Maybe some other time, kid. Right now, we need to get moving. Get your stuff and get downstairs for breakfast. We’ll stop to see your mom before we head upstate.”
Frank turned and headed down to the kitchen to grab some breakfast. He ran into Brennan on the way. “Morning,” Brennan said.
“Morning,” Frank grunted. He needed coffee. Brennan followed him to the kitchen.
“Where are the boys?”
“Coming,” Frank said, pouring himself a cup of coffee and slurping at it.
“I need to see Jack.”
Frank gulped his coffee. On cue, Nic and Jack walked into the kitchen. Brennan’s face brightened at the sight of them. “Morning, boys,” he said, a little too joyfully.
“Morning, Father,” Nic said, walking to the coffee pot. He took a cup from the counter and poured himself a coffee. Then he spooned four tablespoons of sugar into his cup and filled it to the brim with the cream on the counter. Frank stared at him mid-sip.
“What?” Nic asked.
“Nothing,” Frank grumbled. “You wanted to see Jack, Padre.”
Brennan glanced at Jack. “Yes. Jack, can you come to my office please?”
“Okay,” Jack replied.
“Leaving in fifteen,” Frank called after them as they walked out the kitchen door.
“What’s for breakfast?” Nic asked.
“I don’t eat breakfast,” Frank said, pouring himself another cup of coffee.
Nic sipped his coffee and went to the fridge. He pulled out eggs, bacon, cheese, and bread. Frank’s shoulders slumped. Shit. We’re never going to get out of here.
“Does your brother eat breakfast too?” Frank asked.
“Yeah.”
“Make him a sandwich. He can eat it on the road.”
“Okay.”
Nic turned on the gas stove and placed a frying pan over the blue flames while he prepared the eggs and bacon.
“And try not to burn the place down,” Frank grumbled.
Nic frowned, but didn’t reply. Frank left to go to Brennan’s office, the caffeine removing the remaining gossamer of his sleep deprivation. He wanted to see for himself if Jack had the mark.
Frank heard the priest’s voice as he exited the kitchen and walked down the hall of offices, stopping in front of Brennan’s door. Brennan was explaining the story of Razmus to Jack on the other side. He could sense Jack’s nervousness. It was a lot to process for a fourteen-year-old. For anyone.
“Frank is outside the door,” Jack said, barely above a whisper. Brennan glanced up and Frank opened the door. Brennan and Frank met eyes and Brennan motioned for Frank to sit down next to Jack.
“I was just explaining the story of Razmus to Jack,” Brennan said.
“I heard,” Frank said, setting his coffee down on Brennan’s desk. “So is he or isn’t he?” Brennan and Frank both looked at Jack. Jack recoiled at the men’s stares, his shoulders forming an arch, his bed-head hair drooping to cover his face.
Brennan opened a book on his desk and flipped to a page he had marked. He turned the book to Jack.
“Hey, Jack,” he said softly. “It’s okay. At least you’ll know why these things are happening to you.”
“And knowing is half the battle,” Frank said referencing G.I. Joe and hoping to lighten the mood. No one picked up on his joke.
Jack’s hands were clasped together, white knuckles laced over each other. Frank touched his shoulder and sent some calming energy over to him. He glanced up from under his long locks.
Brennan smiled thinly and started again. “Jack, have you noticed this mark on your body anywhere?”
Jack raised his chin slowly to glance at the page. He blinked. Then he straightened his head and looked at Brennan. He stood and stripped off his T-shirt. In the center of his chest, was the exact mark of Razmus. It looked like a raised scar. Like he’s been branded, Frank thought.
Brennan exhaled audibly and his eyes widened. A sympathetic smile stretched across his face. Jack blinked nervously.
“It’s okay, Jack. Now we…and you…know. You know why you’ve been having these visions. You know why you are the way you are. Take solace. God has touched you and your ancestors, and you have Him and us on your side.
“Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. Psalm 23:4.”
Jack looked expressionless. He bowed his head again and let his hair fall back down in his face, as he put his shirt back on.
“Come on, Jack. Let’s go see your mother,” Frank said.
“Godspeed to both of you. I’ll be praying for you all,” Brennan said.
Frank nodded and rose. Jack stood and followed him to the door, zombie-like.
Back in the kitchen, the frying pan sizzled, and the room smelled like toasted bread and bacon. Nic was finishing a massive sandwich. Jack’s was next to his, wrapped neatly in a napkin.
“Here’s your breakfast, Jack,” Nic said.
“Thanks,” Jack mumbled.
“I’m pulling the car around. Be out front in five. We’ll stop for a couple of minutes to see your mother, then we are heading up to the Temple.”
He walked out of the kitchen and exited the rectory on Madison Avenue. The garage was a few blocks away, and by the time he had pulled around to the front of the rectory, the boys were waiting at the curb.
The Mustang rumbled to a stop. “Get in,” Frank called to the boys through the open window. Jack hopped into the back and Nic into the front. The tires squealed as Frank pulled out onto Madison.
“Whoa, easy,” Nic said.
“My bad. Sally just wants to go,” Frank said, grinning.
“Who’s Sally?” Nic asked.
“You’re ridin’ in her.”
Nic looked blankly at Frank. Frank glanced back at him as he turned onto Fifty-second Street and headed east. “You know, Mustang Sally. The song?”
“You named your car?”
Frank reached into his pocket and pulled out his Marlboros. He flipped one between his lips and lit it from a blue flame on his finger. The gray smoke clouded to the roof of the car, and hung there. Jack coughed. Frank glanced in the rearview and rolled down his window.
He hung a right onto Second Avenue, then a left at Twenty-eighth Street, and slid smoothly into a parking spot in front of Bellevue Hospital. He cut the engine, sat back in the seat, and glanced at both boys. “Don’t take too long, okay? We’ve got a good drive ahead and I want to make it up there by lunch so we can get you boys settled. Cool?”
“You’re not coming in to see your mom?” Jack asked softly.
Frank met his eyes in the rearview. There was sadness in the boy’s eyes. Frank glanced away, pulled on his cigarette, and exhaled out the window. “Not today, Jack. Go on. I’ll be here.”
Nic got out of the car. Jack was right behind him. Nic looked both ways and crossed the street with his arm around Jack.
Frank lit another cigarette from the cherry of the one he had been smoking and watched them walk into the hospital. Images of his mother lying in the hospital bed, ghost-white and fragile, tried to push their way to the front of his mind. Frank pulled hard and long on his cigarette, and pushed the images back down.
33
TITUS
October 28, 2015
Fort Tuthill, Arizona
Titus double-timed it from Humphreys Peak back to the hidden base under old Fort Tuthill. By the time he arrived, his cigar was a chewed nub. The doors opened to the underground operations room and he weaved his way through the rows of desks to the situation room at the far end. General Rand was inside with a few of his lieutenants engaged in an animated discussion. Titus walked into the room, his leather jacket flapping behind him. His depression had faded and then flared into anger on his run over. Rand’s men had fucked up and gotten a lot of people killed. Worse, the girl was still out there, growing her army.
“General,” he said, his tone clipped.
The man leaned back, his fearsome snarl unraveling to just plain fear.
“That’s all for now, gentlemen. Let’s regroup at oh-six-thirty,” Rand said.
The other men saluted the General, dropped their eyes, and began leaving the room. Titus moved toward the General, glaring at him.
“Are those the trigger-happy sons-a-bitches?”
“We lost a lot of men today. You’re angry—”
“Damn right I’m angry. She’s more powerful than we thought, and your commandos sent a lot of men to their death today. I want to know: why?” Titus said.
“Agreed,” the General replied, sighing. “I will get to the bottom of it, but we have bigger problems right now.” The General nodded to the tactical map on the table. There were red crosses all over the map, places Titus recognized from today. He didn’t know if he could trust the General anymore, but for the moment he decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. It was possible that the General’s men had disobeyed orders, so he’d let it go for now. The focus had to be on the girl.
Besides, he didn’t plan on relying on the General or his men for much longer.
“How many did we lose?” Titus asked.
“Almost all of Alpha Company,” the General replied. His eyes were deep pits in his round face, the circles under his eyes dark and purple. Titus had seen some old pictures of him from when he had fought in the First Gulf War; he had been a great warrior in his time. Now, he looked more like a shell of his former self, egg-shaped and swollen in all the wrong places.
“That’s almost one hundred men,” Titus said, clenching his fists.
“Don’t I know it,” the General replied with ire.
“Your men started firing before I secured the cave. Who gave the order?”
The General’s girth heaved and the color rose from under his collar and spread across his face. “I said I’ll handle it. Let’s move on.”
But Titus wasn’t finished. “Move on? You fucked up today and men died! I almost died! I won’t go back out there with your troops again,” he said. “They’re not reliable and I won’t lead lambs to the slaughter or be put in danger by some trigger-happy cowboys—”
“Reliable? These are the best men and women in the United States Armed Forces. Don’t you dare—”
“Let me finish.”
The General’s swollen torso heaved with each breath. “Fine. Finish then. What are you saying?” the General said, cocking an eyebrow.
“Let me reach out to the Order. We can use—”
“The Order of Watchers? Hell no, son! The Order is on the bench,” the General said. “President’s orders.”
“Sending your men out there is just going to stack up a lot of body bags.”
Rand’s eyes narrowed. “We’ve got the weapon.”
“Too dangerous to deploy that thing without more testing, and there’s no time. She won’t just sit still. There’s a bigger plot here that we are not aware of. She’s released two of the Fallen and you can bet she’ll release more. We can’t wait—”
“She’s here,” the General said, pointing to a spot in the Grand Canyon. “She landed here with those…Fallen. The satellite imagery confirmed it. We can nuke the site and—”
“Nuke the site? Are you fuckin’ crazy? Setting off a nuclear device in the middle of the Grand Canyon? Besides all the civilians you’ll kill, your weapons have no effect on the Fallen.”
“How do you know? We’ve never tried nuclear on ‘em. And it will kill her, won’t it? Isn’t she commanding the damned things? Kill her and we can all go home, maybe.”
“You don’t know that, and I’d hope the President wouldn’t use a nuclear bomb to kill one person, maybe.”
Something moved on the map. A large mass of red dots was moving closer to the spot marking where Jessie was with her band of demons.
“What’s that?”
“That’s a battalion of men moving in to the area to secure the location.”
Titus spat the cigar from his mouth. “You can’t be serious. They’ll all be killed. We just talked about—”
“No, they won’t, because you are gonna figure out a way to get her.”
“I am. Pull your men back.”
“Can’t do it. They have the DED weapon and we’ll use it next time we see one of those Fallen som’ bitches.”
“They’ll all be killed. And God knows what other unforeseen results that weapon will have.”
“We’ve tested it sufficiently and the President gave the okay. I need to use everything in my arsenal to stop this from getting any bigger. Next time one of those things shows it face, I’m gonna blow its goddamned head off!”
“You’re going to get all your men killed. I won’t be a part of this.”
“Damn it, Titus, then go! Now that we’ve got the weapon, I don’t think I need you… or your kind anymore.”
I don’t need this shit. “We’ll see,” Titus said, slamming his fist on the table and cracking the glass. He marched out of the situation room and headed back up to the surface.
Damned fool. He’s going to get all of them killed.
When Titus reached the surface, the sun was high and the air was dry and cold. He looked around at the rugged terrain of the Arizona desert and thought about his options. He hated to do it, had hated to even suggest it to Rand, but he knew it was the only option he had. He had to reach out to the Order.
34
FRANK
October 28, 2015
Hudson Highlands, New York
The sun was high, but the temperature low. It was nearly winter, and up here in the Hudson Highlands, the chill had already sunk its teeth into the land.
The ride north had been quiet for all two hours. The boys had looked out the window the whole way and hadn’t even asked to stop for a piss break, which was fine by Frank.
Frank parked the car off the road a few miles’ hike from the Temple and began walking with the boys in tow up into the mountains to the Temple of the Watchers.
The ground was covered with dead leaves and brush that crackled beneath their feet on the steadily increasing incline. Nic began cursing and bitching as the terrain became more rugged and difficult to traverse. Frank childishly enjoyed the kid’s annoyance while they hiked. Teenagers. He shook his head, a slight smile on his mug.
Before long they reached the clearing in front of the Temple. They stood there for a moment, Nic winded and pouty, Jack and Frank breathing easily. Jack actually looked pretty good, Frank noticed. He had color in his cheeks and his aura had changed to a light blue. The exercise and outdoors seemed to agree with him.
Frank glanced around the area, awash with childhood memories—good memories. It’s good to be back here, back home. His usual scowl melted away, and he breathed the raw autumn air deeply into his lungs. Damn, I’ve missed this place.
“What now?” Jack asked.
“Yeah,” Nic said. “We’re in the middle of nowhere. What the hell are we doing here?”
Frank shook his head, and said nothing, letting the comment pass, refusing to let the kid ruin his moment of reverie.
On cue, the trees behind them spread, startling the boys. The doors to the temple opened, and a tall man with long, graying blond hair and a beard to match stepped into the clearing.
“Rowan,” Frank said, shaking his old teacher and friend’s hand.
“Frank, my friend. It’s good to see you,” he said, pulling Frank close and hugging him.
Frank was tall, but Rowan was a good six inches taller than him, making him look like a giant next to the boys. Rowan glanced at the pair, nodding, and
put his arm around Frank’s neck in a semi-headlock. Frank flushed, embarrassed by the childish greeting, and struggled unsuccessfully to free himself. “What are ya doing with this raggedy duo?” he asked playfully, before releasing Frank.
“Training.”
“Well, let’s get the trainees inside and get a good meal in ‘em, huh?”
The color of Frank’s face was bright red. He fixed his hair behind his ears and found his ornery self again. “Let’s,” Frank said. “I’m starved.”
Rowan led them through the doors and into the tunnels in the mountain. He raised his hand in the air and floated a ball of light to guide them. “How’s city life?” Rowan asked.
“Shit,” Frank scoffed.
“Never did like all that concrete and metal around me. How’s Brennan?”
“Playing the good monk,” Frank said.
“He dumped these two on you, did he?” Rowan said, looking back over his shoulder and winking at the boys. Nic frowned. Jack hid under his locks of hair. Rowan chuckled.
The smells of stewing meat filled the passage and Frank and Rowan caught up on events as they walked. Rowan had heard about Chicago and Jessie through the Order, and they discussed it as they entered the kitchen.
“Shame about Tarek,” he said. “He was a good warrior. He’ll be missed.”
Frank grunted in agreement.
“Wait. You were there?” Nic asked. “That monster that attacked all those people in Chicago. You were there?”
Frank slowed his pace, but remained staring straight ahead. “I was there, and have the scars to prove it. And that was no monster. That was one of the Fallen. That’s what we’re up against, Nic, and whatever you heard about it is only half the truth, if that.”
“That…thing… It was… It was…”
“It’s a nightmare, boy. A nightmare that’s alive and roaming the land of the living. Have a seat,” Rowan said as they entered the galley, the boys’ eyes growing wide. “Stew’s ready.”
The boys sat down at the table and Rowan placed a steaming bowl of stew in front of each of them. Jack turned his spoon over in his bowl, staring at the savory vegetables and meat. Nic began to gobble his in great bites. Rowan arched his eyes, glancing at Frank. Frank nodded back and sipped a tall mug of ale.
