by Jeff Vrolyks
Chapter Thirty Three
It was an emotional hour, the three of us in Aaron’s hotel room. We prayed, cried, embraced, made plenty of promises to meet up again soon. As he cranked over the engine of his filthy pickup truck, I was standing before the driver’s side window; Norrah was at the passenger-side window, tears rolling down her cheek.
“Do me a favor,” Aaron said to Norrah. “Keep on Brittney, okay? I think what happened to her there on the bed happened for a good reason. See to it that she changes her way, tell her about Christ. It’s amazing how something so horrible can end up being a positive thing, but I believe that’s the case with Brittney.”
“I will,” she said.
Aaron looked up at me. “Buddy, friend, brother, you take care. And take care of this wonderful woman. She’s a celebrity and will need your protection. Hopefully in the future people will forget her, but we’re far from that day. She could be in no better hands than your own.”
I shook his hand, wished him a safe drive back to Fresno.
It was noon when he pulled out of the hotel parking lot. He drove to the vaunted Evergreen Estates only a few miles away. He tried entering through the front gate but didn’t know the gate-code and didn’t know Taylor’s address. He turned around and parked at the same location on the side of the road that we had a couple hours ago. He walked along the sand toward the open gate, his hands in his pockets. He gazed at the blue lake, the water undoubtedly frigid, painfully so. He hoped his luck would find Maggie around here, but that wasn’t the case. Could there be any doubt that she manifested here to bring him to Taylor?
He arrived at the open gate, an iron beam arching over the two posts, a sign reading Evergreen Estates hanging off that beam by a pair of chains. Aaron glanced at the ground before him, spied something and stopped, stooped down and picked up a gold chain. He untangled it and spread it open: it was a charm bracelet. He wondered if it was real gold or fake. It sure looked like real gold. The tiny charms were gold as well, and they were an assortment of things such as hearts, a peace sign, a moon, sun, clover, and a cross. Two crosses, actually. The bracelet was fashioned for a small wrist, its hole too small for someone like Aaron to wear. The kid who lost it would be devastated. He put it in his pocket and decided he’d later make a Craigslist add for it, and if claimed he’d mail it to its rightful owner. The idea that it might be Maggie’s never occurred to him. She was not of this world, but this bracelet was. It had little blemishes, marred from glancing off things. It was the possession of a flesh-and-bone kid. But he’d reconsider soon enough.
He traversed the walkway, past the first boathouse and at the second he turned left onto the large Labaucher property. The lot was on an incline, the bottom story of the prominent house had an enormous terrace. A man was seated on a patio-chair, lounging with his feet on an ottoman. He was on the phone. As Aaron made his way toward the side of the house the man lowered the phone and asked if he could help him.
“I’m here to see Taylor. I’m a friend of his.”
He nodded and pointed to the side of the house, continued his conversation.
Behind the house was a smaller one, Taylor’s supposed home. As he stepped to the doorway he heard laughter inside. He knocked. Taylor opened the door with a smile and said, “What’s up, bro?”
“Hey. Is this a good time?”
“Of course,” Taylor said and stepped aside. “Come on in, amigo.”
There was another young man inside, deep in a recliner. His eyes were glazed and it smelled of pot inside. Aaron tried to recognize his mouth and jaw.
“Have a seat,” Taylor said. “Can I get you a beer or something?”
Aaron sat at the end of the couch and refused refreshment. Taylor sat at the other end of the couch. “Aaron, this is Cody. Cody, Aaron. Frog, Pirate. Pirate, Frog.”
The two got off their seats to shake hands, then returned.
“I remember you,” Cody said with a grin and stony red eyes. “You were a loner.”
“And I remember you. You took a picture of Black Cat and Lion.”
Cody withdrew a cellphone from his pocket, tapped Photos icon and tossed it eight feet to Aaron. Aaron caught it and looked down at it.
“Go ahead,” Cody said, “check the pictures I took that night.”
Aaron was looking at a picture of Canary striking a silly pose, a coquette with a license to uninhibited fun. He swiped the screen to the next picture. Batman was flipping off the photographer. Another swipe. Lion was kissing Black Cat. Another swipe. Lion’s hand was on Black Cat’s knee, not yet exploring her. Aaron guessed the next picture would be the one. But that was the last picture.
Aaron stared confusedly at the phone.
“I deleted it, man,” Cody said. “I had second thoughts about it after that night. I thought you might like to know that, being that you’re a pastor and all. Taylor told me.”
“I’m glad to see that,” Aaron said. “A picture like that could circulate on the internet pretty quickly, especially being the circumstance of the picture and who was in it. One of the missing twenty-three. I bet National Enquirer would pay good money for such a photo. Any of these photos, really.”
“Yeah. Don’t worry, I’m not going to share any of the pictures with anyone. And I bet you’re right, I could sell some of these. Oh well. Doesn’t seem right. I wouldn’t do that to any of my fellow twenty-three.”
Aaron nodded, then swiped the pictures to the earlier ones, which seemed to tell a story in reverse. Each swipe rewound time a few minutes or more. There was a picture of Elephant taking a toke off a joint through his latex trunk. There was a picture of Butterfly suckling on Frog’s ear.
“You got one of me,” Aaron said, a little embarrassed. “Nothing happened between she and I.”
“Don’t worry about it, bud. Like I said, nobody will see them. That chick wanted you, I saw her checking you out a few times. You could have nailed her if you wanted.”
“Dude,” Taylor reprimanded. “He’s a pastor, don’t say that.”
“Sorry,” Cody said.
“No, it’s cool. I’m not so different than you all. I too feel a connection with the twenty-three that extends almost to brotherhood. It’s a hard thing to put into words.”
“Totally,” Taylor said. “A bond. Like you said, brothers. Hey, you want a toke off the water-bong?”
“Nah, I’m good. I appreciate the offer, but I’m not much of a pot smoker. I won’t judge you all for doing it. I’ve been doing way too much judging. Not anymore.”
Cody grinned that stoned grin, said, “Judge not less ye be judged.”
“That’s right,” Aaron said. “We’d all do good to follow that.”
There was a picture of the banner above the fireplace reading Valentine’s Day Masquerade, 2013. Aaron swiped it to the preceding picture and gasped, dropped the phone out of his hands.
Both Cody and Taylor said what. Aaron’s troubled eyes flashed from Cody to Taylor.
“Let me see,” Cody said and got off his chair, took the phone off the carpeted floor and retook his recliner. He peered closely at the picture. By his reaction he saw it too, Aaron judged. He wasn’t alarmed, but perhaps mystified.
“What is it?” Taylor asked him.
“Look,” Cody the once-Pirate said, and tossed the phone to his friend on the couch.
“What is it?” Taylor said and looked at the screen.
“It’s him,” Aaron said. “Paul’s friend.”
“The guy in our dreams,” Cody said solemnly.
“You’ve been having the dreams too, I hear.” Aaron said to him.
He nodded.
“Whoa, trippy,” Taylor said, eyes just inches from the screen. “It’s just the red-eyes of a photograph, but it’s still trippy.”
“But Paul’s eyes aren’t red,” Aaron pointed out. “Only his friend’s are.”
“You’re right,” Taylor said and inspected it further. “It’s the fire reflecting in them, that’s what it is. T
otally trippy. God, his expression. That damned smile, those excited eyes… guy’s a maniac. A fiend. Was a fitting costume, the devil horns. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was the devil, you know?”
“He ripped your arms right out of their sockets,” Aaron said to Cody. “Effortlessly. I saw it.”
Cody looked at Aaron, aghast. That was a buzz kill if ever there was one.
Taylor nodded and said, “He saw us all die, man. That’s why I invited you over, I wanted you to hear what he has to say. Maybe it’s all in his head, but maybe it isn’t. He doesn’t strike me as a liar, does he to you? The bottom line is he hasn’t suffered the nightmares we have, but guessed accurately what our dreams have been, because he claims to have witnessed it. Go ahead, Aaron, tell us everything. The floor’s all yours.”
“Sure. Maybe I will trouble you for a glass of water,” he said to Taylor.
Aaron bowed his head and prayed silently in the meantime.
“You believe this has something to do with God, don’t you,” Cody said, interrupting Aaron’s prayer.
“I know it does.”
“Then would you mind praying openly before you start this? Pray for us to believe what you’re about to say, because I’m not sure I will. I believe there’s a higher power, sure, but I’m not subscribed to any particular religion.”
Taylor returned with a glass of water and handed it over, made himself comfortable on the couch.
“Dear Lord,” Aaron began. Cody and Taylor closed their eyes. “I ask you to protect us, to watch over us. I pray for you to reach my two new friends, show them the way. Help them to understand, to believe. Guide me in speech, give me the words needed to turn these two lost sheep into your most devoted believers. Amen.”
The two said amen and opened their eyes. Aaron sensed that these two weren’t just ready to believe him, but wanted to, and Aaron could sympathize with that. Who wouldn’t want the mystery to finally be solved?
“Before I forget,” Taylor said, “here.” He handed Aaron a torn-off yellow page from a notepad. On it were several names with phone numbers beside them. “It’s not everyone, obviously, but there are eight there. If you call them, some might be able to give you the numbers of others. That’s all I could come up with, right there.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it, Taylor. I’ll give them a call on my drive back. I have a five hour drive ahead of me, plenty of time to speak with them.”
Aaron sipped his water, set it on a coaster on the end-table beside him. Taylor said he was going to record the story, if Aaron wouldn’t mind, and play it for Wendy, who was Canary. He had tried to get her to come over prior to Aaron’s arrival, but she was busy just then, but would come up the mountain soon.
He started from the very beginning, luring poor Marie Elbrick under the bridge to lay with her. He spoke of Magdalena playing the piano, of the ninety-one bucks stolen from the lady’s station wagon, of the miracle that was the money returning to her wallet. Neither Cody or Taylor interrupted him once. They listened attentively, absorbed everything.
Aaron didn’t give the abridged version, as he had contemplated on the drive over. To reach these two he’d need to tell them everything. He spoke of the Fun House, of Maggie telling Aaron of a man distorted, the opposite of Aaron. He spoke of Tinkerbelle, of Paul, and the vision he had where Paul brought her to the spot under the bridge. He continued on to the vision he had in Deborah’s office, of the Arrowhead sign and the magpie. He spoke of Maggie’s presence between the two pine trees in the backyard of Norrah’s, and said God spoke to him, though he wouldn’t repeat the message. He spoke from the heart with a plain candor that was appreciated by his company. If this guy was lying, it was a performance worthy of an Academy Award.
Just then there was a knock at the door. Taylor apologized and got off the couch, let Wendy inside. She was introduced to Aaron. They shook hands.
“I’ll play the recording for her later,” Taylor said. “For now just finish what you have to say.”
She pulled up a bar stool, apologized for getting there so late, sat facing the couch a few feet from Cody.
Mindlessly Aaron removed the bracelet from his pocket and clutched it in his left palm, and continued the story.
Aaron spoke of the massacre in grisly detail, telling Pirate how it came to be that his arms were ripped out of their sockets, how Taylor’s heart was ripped out of his chest, still beating in Devil’s hand, how he thrust a hand into Canary’s stomach, impaling her. His audience was thunderstruck, open-mouthed awe.
Taylor handed Cody’s phone to Wendy so she could see the ominous photo of Devil, his eyes blazing with fire-light. She stared at it closely with a troubled expression.
“I don’t think we were all murdered that night,” Aaron said as the afterword to the story, “I know we were. Every last one of us, dead. Norrah heard it, then saw it, as well. But saw it in visions, when she was in the basement of the house. She saw it exactly as I remembered it happening, confirmation that it wasn’t all in my head. Or hers.”
He then spoke of God, how He brought them back to life, a gesture of love and redemption. In his left hand he jingled the bracelet, the cool golden charms chirping against each other.
“I won’t push you three to turn your hearts over to God just yet,” Aaron said. “It’s a huge decision, one you’ll have to search your soul for. But if and when that time comes, contact me and I’ll happily assist you in any way I can, be it baptism or sharing what I know.”
The three nodded.
“It kind of makes sense,” Cody said, not appearing very intoxicated anymore. “That Paul went upstairs just before it happened. If he’s friends with that guy, he’d have known what was coming, and didn’t want to be around for it. What an asshole Paul is, to know what was coming and let it happen.”
“He wanted it to happen,” Aaron said. “He’s evil. He toasted to my death just a minute before he went upstairs, and said he wished he could watch it.”
“What a fucking asshole,” Taylor said shaking his head.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” Wendy said, and she did look ill. “I… I had sex with Paul a few weeks ago. To think I slept with a guy who very well may have plotted our deaths.”
“Yes,” Aaron said, “but that’s in the past. This is the present. Let’s move on and take something from this. Let this event be the impetus that turned things around. God was in this phenomenon, and is in each one of us..”
“I just don’t believe there’s a God,” Wendy said hesitantly. “If there was, he wouldn’t have allowed us to get killed. Killed by… whatever that man is.”
“Are you killed?” Aaron said, making a point. “If ever there was a reason to believe in God, I’d say we twenty-three are living proof of Him. I’ll pray for you, Wendy. I’ll pray for all of you. Here, I want you to have this.” He opened his palm and singled out a charm, a cross, removed it from the chain, stepped to the bar stool and handed it over to Wendy.
“Thank you,” she said. “That’s sweet of you. Do you have any string?” she directed at Taylor.
“Uh, I have some thread. I was going to mend a tear in a pair of slacks. I’ll go get it.”
A moment later he had the spindle of thread and unwound a few feet of it, bit it off and handed it to Wendy, who made a necklace out of the charm and thread, put it around her neck.
“I don’t suppose you have another one,” Taylor said hopefully.
It touched Aaron that this young man would want one. He found the second cross, pinched the hook and removed it from the chain-loop. Taylor made a necklace from it as well. Aaron sensed that Cody wanted to ask for one, but lacked the nerve.
“I’d offer you one,” Aaron said, “but I think I have only the two. Sorry.”
“Not a big deal.”
Aaron handled the bracelet, looked at the many charms, and smiled when he spotted a third and fourth gilded cross. “I guess there were four. How about that? One for each of us.”
A minute later
all four wore cross necklaces. Aaron stood and stretched. The others remained seated, looked up at him curiously.
“I have to get going,” he said.
“So soon?” Wendy said. “I just got here.”
“I have a long drive. Thanks for your time, guys. If you ever want to contact me, feel free to. Brothers for life. And sisters,” he directed at Wendy. He then gave his cellphone number so the three could enter it in their phones.
He was only going to shake their hands at the door, but they insisted on hugs. Aaron judged that a lot of what he said made it to their hearts. They already looked like changed people. Modest and humble.
Aaron stepped outside, closed the door behind him. He followed the walkway down the side of the house. He waved at the man in the patio chair on the terrace, but that man was asleep, chin touching his chest, phone on the table.
Between the first and second boathouses was a girl tossing bread to the ducks on the shore. She wore a pink dress, had long brown disheveled hair.
“Maggie!” Aaron said and began jogging toward the girl.
She turned around at his voice: it wasn’t Maggie. He stopped his purposeful pace, said, “Oops, thought you were someone else.”
“Want to feed the ducks with me?”
“If you’ll give me a piece of that bread, sure.”
Aaron gained her side. Several plump ducks well-accustomed to receiving free meals were jostling to get to the discarded pieces of bread. She handed him a slice. He tore pieces and fed them.
After he ran out of bread he wished the girl a wonderful Sunday afternoon and left.