The Sons of Man

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The Sons of Man Page 5

by Laura Ellison


  Chapter Three

  “Mom, are you going with me?” Piper asked.

  Robin, an older, plumper version of her tall, blonde daughter, was standing in her black one-piece, checking her iPhone. “Where’s your laptop?”

  “Mom, you’re not supposed to be working.”

  “It’s just a report I’m expecting.”

  “Can’t that wait? I want to get off the ship. It’s beautiful out there.”

  Robin sighed. She turned off her phone. “Sorry. I don’t know why I took The Church on as a client. They won’t last six months in Marine. I mean, they moved into the old Unitarian church, which had been empty for decades because the Unitarians were pushed out of town.”

  “The Unitarians couldn’t have been as weird,” Piper said.

  “I know as little about Unitarianism as I do The Church of Mankind.” Robin put her phone in her bag, slipping her feet into her sandals. “Cute bikini, Piper, but cover up.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Piper put on a big red T-shirt, covering the white crocheted bikini, striking against her tan skin. Robin couldn’t help but notice the stares her fifteen year old daughter had received from males of all ages on the ship. Robin planned on keeping Piper unaware of her effect on men for as long as possible.

  “Do you think The Church of Mankind is evil?” Piper asked.

  Robin opened the door, ready to leave the cabin. “Evil can be found anywhere. And it runs on fear. The Church is powerful enough to scare people-and I’ve said Marine is full of ignorant people-but it’s the people who have to decide whether to fill that church, to become the new congregation. The beliefs of The Church are a bit radical, especially by Marine standards. They believe, for instance, that the second coming of Christ will be someone who has strong past-life memories of being Jesus. This new Jesus could be male or female, white or black or any other race. It doesn’t matter to The Church of Mankind, because they believe the body is just a bag for the soul, something to be used as a tool while alive.”

  “Where did you learn all that?” Piper asked.

  “Wikipedia. Now let’s go. All of this religious talk is making me thirsty. I want something fruity with rum in it.”

  Aron saw the remains of their mailbox across the tundra-like front yard before he discovered yesterday’s mail in the snow.

  Last night’s snowstorm had knocked out the power for miles. Sonya had another snow day. They were all starting to get cabin fever. Bill was depressed and irritable, typical of Alzheimer’s, but the antidepressant made him sleepy enough to take naps. Aron didn’t like to see his usually upbeat brother so sluggish, and hoped the weather would calm down enough to take Bill out more often, if only a trip to the grocery store.

  Aron was sure the neighbors had already stocked up on milk, bread, and toilet paper. However, Aron would have to plow out the driveway again before going anywhere.

  The power went out early this morning, which also meant no water. Helga, tired of the cold temperatures, had relieved herself on the living room carpet. Bill had wanted to help with the clean-up, but kept forgetting the lack of electricity and water.

  “This sucks,” Bill said.

  He returned to bed, still in his pajamas, thick white hair sticking up. The attic had become too cold, so Sonya crawled into Bill’s big bed. Helga soon joined them after eating her breakfast. Aron found them all snuggled in the blankets. Aron was happy to leave them there, his patchwork family. He covered up in a wool blanket, wearing a sweater and fleece pants, and fell asleep in Bill’s chair.

  Later, they ate cereal, potato chips, and peanut butter on bread, the dishes piled in the sink.

  “Too bad we don’t have a generator,” Sonya said.

  “Never bought one,” Bill said.

  They all dressed warm and Sonya tried to play cards with Bill while Aron read a book. Bill ended up winning at Kings-in-the-corner and three-card. Aron appreciated Sonya keeping Bill occupied, a sign of her becoming more mature, adjusting to her life with her father and uncle.

  Sonya had spent most of her life living with her mother Carolyn and her stepfather Cal. When Carolyn died from lung cancer last spring, she and Cal were so far in debt, Cal had to sell their house. Cal went to a one-bedroom apartment and Sonya came to live with Aron and Bill. Aron had spent years living in Falls River, a bigger city forty miles away, working as a loan officer at a bank. Bill had worked at Marine Paper Products for decades in maintenance, but his worsening symptoms had forced him into retirement. His house was paid off, but he could no longer live alone. By this time, Aron had lost his job, the bank closing. Aron gave up his apartment in Falls River, and came to live with Bill in Marine. Months later, Sonya moved in, grief-stricken and angry at Cal.

  Sonya had never been close to her father, and had been somehow misled into thinking Bill was her biological father. Bill and Carolyn had a brief fling, but Aron had forgiven his wife, if not his brother. Bill had been separated from Sue, his second wife. Carolyn, after several miscarriages, became pregnant for Sonya.

  Aron had never wanted Sonya to know any of it, but she learned somehow. He didn’t know she had learned through Sue, who had been Carolyn’s best friend.

  Aron fitted the mailbox back together, knowing the plow-driver from the county road commission was the culprit. Aron then retrieved the wet mail.

  He was walking towards the house, stepping carefully through the knee-high snow, when he heard Sonya calling from the side door.

  “Dad! The power’s back on!”

  Aron sighed in relief. With power, he could cook and clean. Bill needed a shower, and he still needed to clean the stain on the carpet.

  The TV was on when he entered, just in time for the six o’clock news. Bill was at his chair, Sonya at the couch.

  “Tonight’s leading story is the pursuit of a killer. Today, authorities in Marine County have determined that the weapon used to kill Waylon Jennings Johnson, son of Blue Diamonds Marine chapter president James ‘Donut’ Johnson, was a military-style rifle. The rounds discovered near the site were ammunition typically used in rifles like a Bushmaster. This could mean that Johnson’s killer had a military background...”

  “I think it was random,” Sonya said. “If someone wanted Waylon dead, why do it in the power lines in bad weather?”

  “And who would follow him into the power lines when the ambulance and police cars could barely get in and out through the snow?” Aron asked.

  “I can tell you this much,” Bill said, “Donut won’t let himself die until he finds out. And when he does, he’ll have his brothers take care of it. The Diamonds don’t wait for nobody, especially the cops.”

 

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