by Mink, Jason
Zak shrugged. "I dunno. It's all through the album. Maybe it's backwards? I'm gonna mess around with it tonight, see if I can make anything out of it. Could be it's that Clautney Iris guy speaking in tongues."
"Huh. You think?"
"Who knows? It seems possible, at least. I don't know much about him, but he seems interesting. The web site has an entry; it's a couple of pages, I haven't read it yet."
Baxter stared at the grainy image and it stared back. From
somewhere came the sound of a door slamming shut.
SIX
NOW
"Baxter's gone."
Chloe shook her head angrily, eyes flashing in the dim light of the dining room. "No, I won't accept that. We simply have to expand the parameters of our search. He has no money, no identification; he can't have gotten far." Turning from the group Chloe tapped the glassy surface of her phone. It rang only once before the driver answered.
"Yes, ma'am?"
"Any sign of him yet?"
"No. We've searched a five-block radius but have yet to find him."
"Stay in contact." Chloe terminated the connection, then turned again to face the group. "Our car is still searching, but we need to get out there on foot."
Zak chuckled. "Well, I guess that leaves me out."
Chloe's eyes narrowed. "You. As time goes on I believe your story less and less." She drew close to him. "Tell me again." Her eyes widened, their blue seeming to frost over.
Zak straightened in his wheelchair. "Like I said, Chloe. After you left I asked Bax what he thought we should do. He agreed we'd need to go with you. He told me about what happened on the island, how you'd saved him. He planned on returning with you. But he was in pain. He limped downstairs to use the bathroom. He had to have passed you."
"But it seems he did not," she replied icily. "Maybe we are going about this the wrong way. Baxter may still be here, in this house. Shall I burn it, Brother? I will. I will do whatever it takes to find him again. Now tell me where he is."
Zak shook his head, then motioned towards the window. "I've told you everything I know, Sister. But if you're going to burn the place down then you'll want to be far away when those old oil drums behind the house explode. I'm guessing they'd take out half the block."
She considered his words for a moment. Abruptly she turned. "Adam, you will come with me. Annie, please stay here with Zachary until we return with Baxter. I trust neither of you will be foolish enough to follow his example."
Adam rose, buttoning his overcoat and following her out the door. Annie watched them go, then turned to Zak.
"So where did Baxter go?" she asked quietly.
"It's like I said, Annie. I don't know." Zak piloted the chair from the wide dining area and into the living room. Annie followed.
"Come on, Zak, don't think for one minute you can lie to me…"
But Zak ignored her, going over to the threadbare couch where his uncle sat recovering. The old man was pale, trembling.
"I tried, Zak. I tried t' keep 'em away."
"I know, Uncle Ant. There was nothing you could do."
"You goin' with 'em?"
"I have to."
His uncle nodded sadly. "I said this day would come. Told you not to fool with Them Ones, boy. I told you."
Zak opened his mouth to reply, then closed it again. There was nothing more to say.
~*~
The bar was closed.
Baxter slid along the wall, away from the brightly-lit street and down the narrow alleyway. Vague shapes scattered at his approach, scrabbling through the snow-flocked debris and into the deeper shadows beyond. He paid them little mind, following the narrow brick run to its end. Along the back wall, past the bags of trash, lay a pitted, unpainted metal door. Of course it was locked.
Baxter whispered a brief incantation, then rapped sharply upon the metal door three times. There was a muted click and the door swung open. He slipped inside, closing it quietly behind him. Flattening himself against the wall, Baxter allowed his eyes time to adjust to the near-darkness and ensure the room was actually empty. Once satisfied, he swiftly made his way to the bar. Hands shaking, he poured a generous tumbler of Scotch. He downed it quickly, relishing its smooth burn; pouring another he peeled a twenty off the small roll Zak had given him and left it on the bar. In the darkness Baxter located the phone and dialed a familiar number. It rang for the better part of a minute before being answered.
"What?"
"Gersh?"
There was a burst of phlegmy coughing into the earpiece. "Yeah, yeah, it's me. Who the hell is this?"
"It's Baxter."
There was a pause. "Knowles? What do you want?"
Baxter winced. This was going to be fun."I, uh… I'm in a bit of a bind."
"What? Why the hell are you whispering? You know what time it is?"
"Gersh, please. Listen to me for a second, will you? I need a favor."
"Aw, no, Bax. No way. I'm not sendin' you another dime. I told you not to blow that advance…"
"GERSH!" Baxter hissed into the mouthpiece. "Hold up for a god-damn minute, will you? I'm not calling for money."
"Good. Because I don't have any for you."
"Fine. Listen. You have to go to my apartment and get something for me. I need you to send it out same-day delivery to this P.O. box."
His agent sighed. "Baxter, what is going on? You leave town without a word, no one hears from you in two months, you call me at three a.m…."
"Gersh, please. I can't get into a whole thing with you right now. I need your help, there's no one else I can call." Baxter noticed the note of desperation in his voice; obviously Sal Gershman did as well.
"All right, Bax. What do you need me to do?"
Baxter quickly explained his request.
"Fine, I'll send it first thing tomorrow."
"Thanks, Gersh. I owe you big."
"Damn straight you do. You owe me a god-damn manuscript! These publishers don't just hand out checks, ya know. They like to occasionally see some return on their investment."
"I'm working on it, Gersh," Baxter lied. "I'll talk to you soon."
"All right. Take care of yourself, Baxter."
"Good night, Gersh."
"Yeah, right. Goodbye."
Baxter hung up the phone. As he did he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. And though it was only his reflection in the mirror he had to bite down hard to stifle the scream. He stared, half shadow, a scarecrow afraid of itself. This was already going badly. If they had any chance at all, Baxter had to pull himself together. He was the only one still free. He tried to resist the urge to pour himself another drink. Failing that, he made it a small one.
Baxter walked over to the dingy curtain. Outside the street was quiet, empty. Not unusual for a Sunday at three a.m., he mused. Though warmed by the liquor, Baxter's bones still ached. His escape from Zak's had been treacherous, involving a flight across an icy metal rooftop, a climb over barbed wire and a drop of ten feet onto frozen pavement. He'd landed hard, his graceless weight fully absorbing the bone-bruising impact. An action hero he was not.
Thankfully, the bar was where Zak had said it would be. Nat's Tavern was long closed for the night - at least, to patrons who didn't know how to unlock doors with a word. Here Baxter could hide until morning, gather his strength for the ordeal just ahead. He made his way to a nearby booth and slowly sat down. A moment later he was asleep.
~*~
At the same time, Chloe was forced to make the call she'd been dreading.
"Yes, Sister?" came a warm, melodious voice. "What is your current status?"
"All are accounted for… except for Knowles."
"What? He was with you this morning."
"Yes, Brother. But he managed to slip away just after our arrival in Pittsburgh."
"I see. Very well. Come home."
Chloe was surprised but knew better to question. "We are on our way. I am sorry I failed you."
"Say no more,
Sister. Brother Helios always was difficult to control. But that is what makes him useful to us, after all. We will find him again soon enough."
The connection was terminated. She nodded to Adam. "We are going." Without another word she walked from the ramshackle house, into the growing storm beyond.
~*~
Baxter woke to the sun upon his face. He shifted uncomfortably, ribs shifting in the hot mud of his chest; his shaking hand reached out, picked up the nearly-empty bottle before him and tilted it to his lips. The scotch was like gasoline in his mouth; it seared through him, rolled molten into the pit of his empty stomach. He waited until the first wave of nausea passed, then rose unsteadily to his feet. It was late, at least eight a.m.. He had to get out of there.
Baxter walked behind the bar and took another bottle of scotch, as well as two cellophane envelopes of cashews. He placed two more twenties on the bar, then walked quickly to the back of the room. He stopped at the coat-rack, snatching up a stray jacket. Baxter buttoned it, turning up the collar to hide his face. While not the most effective of disguises it might allow him to pass unnoticed for vital moments if he was still being searched for. He slipped out the way he came, through the bar's side door. Caught by the wind it slammed shut behind him and Baxter cringed, hurrying on.
After an interminable wait on the corner Baxter managed to catch a bus into town and checked into a cheap hotel. The clerk gave him guff about signing in without ID, but the power of Zak's roll of twenties proved greater than his qualms and Baxter made it to his room without further incident. There, he shed his coat and shoes, propped a chair against the door handle, then laid down on the bed. He drank and tried to stay awake. He failed.
THEN
"I said, would you like to go bird watching?" Baxter repeated into the telephone.
Annie laughed brightly. "Sure, that sounds fun. Where? When?"
"How about this weekend? I know a place." He paused. "I don't suppose you own a pair of binoculars?"
"Hmm. No, 'fraid not."
"That's okay, we'll just have to share. Meet me on the south lawn, Saturday morning at seven?"
"Seven? Why so early?"
"Trust me."
She laughed again. "All right. Seven it is. See you then."
Baxter signed off, then turned to his roommate and smiled. "She said yes."
Zak shook his head, laughing. "That's the corniest thing I ever heard. Bird watching."
"Well, I'm in, right? Not only do we get to be alone together but I don't have to spend a dime. Nature does all the work."
"Well done, Valentino," Zak replied. "Seven in the morning, out in a field someplace, just you two and the birds; the perfect recipe for romance. You sure know how to work it."
"Ah, you're just jealous my woman exists in three dimensions."
Zak grunted and returned his attention to the computer screen, while Baxter began the long search for his binoculars.
~*~
It was twenty after seven and Baxter was beginning to feel a bit silly. He stood alone in the dew-sodden stubble of early spring grass, watching the last of the mist dissipate. Birds mocked him from a distance, watched him finger his binoculars impatiently. His coat hung heavy, growing damp and clammy in the cool morning air. Baxter buttoned it to the collar and shifted back and forth on his feet in a vain attempt to stay warm. The moon was still out, staring down from above the treeline. It regarded him blandly, as one of the more uninteresting specimens in its ongoing study of the planet. Baxter turned the binoculars towards it, twisting the lenses into focus.
"Now let's see who studies who dispassionately," he thought to himself. The moon stayed distant, swelling only slightly before his eyes. Wispy, cloud-like, it was all that remained of the night, fading ghost-like into the deepening blue.
"Morning. Sorry I'm late."
Baxter lowered the binoculars and regarded Annie Guthrie. The wait was well worth it, as far as he was concerned. She looked happy, her fair skin rosy with the blush of morning's chill. Her long dark hair streamed behind her, trailing on the wind. Hands in pockets, she smiled.
"Where to?"
Baxter let the binoculars hang. "There's an old cemetery a few miles into the woods. I've been there once or twice, it seems like there's a lot of bird activity in there."
Annie gave him an odd look. "Do you often invite young women into the woods, Mr. Knowles?"
"Only the ones I think will accept." He winked and she broke up laughing.
"C'mon now. You can trust me. After all, I do have Ashton's seal of approval."
Her eyes narrowed. "Ashton?"
"Sure. How do you think I got your number? He thought me giving you a call was a great idea."
"You mean he put you up to this?"
Baxter faltered.
"No, not at all. He just seemed to think we might get along well. I only asked him for your number, he didn't counsel me or anything…"
Annie looked unconvinced.
"Really, I didn't need anyone to talk me into calling you. I've wanted to since the party but… well, I just haven't managed to until now."
She considered his words then nodded. "Okay. It's just that James has tried to hook me up with his friends before. It was weird."
Baxter moved a little closer. "Well, I'm not really even sure I qualify as one of his friends, but the call was my idea. I just wanted a chance to hang out, get to know you. You made an impression."
She smiled. "I'm glad you called. Let's go."
They set out across the lawn. Baxter stuck his hands in his pockets. The binoculars thumped heavily against his chest with each step. "So what have you been up to?" he asked, speeding up to match her gait.
"Eh, studying mostly. Getting ready to get ready for finals. You know."
Baxter nodded; he'd fallen behind on his studies and was struggling to catch up himself.
Annie continued. "My dad is pretty mental about my grades, but I guess I can't blame him. He worked his ass off to pay for this. He expects me to do the same. I don't mind, though. Keeps me out of trouble. At least," she paused, looking at Baxter, "it usually does."
Baxter felt warmth spread across his face. He stared straight ahead, hoping Annie wouldn't notice.
"What about you?"
Baxter shrugged. "Looking for work, mostly. I'm pretty broke." This struck him as a pretty stupid thing to say to a girl he was hoping to impress, but he'd forgotten himself and answered honestly.
"Yeah, me, too," Annie said, surprising him. "I work part-time at the Pretzel Twist in town. The pay is lousy - I do get to take home all the stale pretzels I want, though."
"Oh yeah?"
"I've found there's a lot you can do with them, actually. They're good with peanut butter or hummus. I cut them in half, put some pizza sauce and cheese on them…" She faltered to a stop. "Oh, God, I can't believe I'm telling you this." Now it was her turn to blush. "You must think I'm total white trash."
Baxter shook his head. "Actually I was just thinking how good it sounded." They laughed together then and Baxter was instantly smitten, taken with the very idea of her. So why he had waited so long to call?
"I brought some, actually. I thought maybe the birds might eat them." Annie stuck her hand into a crinkled brown paper bag. "Want one?"
Baxter took the pretzel gratefully. It crunched loudly when he bit into it. "I wasn't lying about them being stale, you know," she said.
"I see that." Baxter gamely chewed away, glad he'd had the foresight to bring along some water.
"So how did you find this cemetery?" Annie asked, curious.
Baxter shrugged. "I've spent a lot of time tromping around back here. Just stumbled across it one day. It's all overgrown; none of the townies seem to go there any more. Kids party back there sometimes, but keep it pretty clean. Just the occasional beer can or burger wrapper. None of the graves are vandalized or anything, which is a surprise. The headstones are all pretty old; I've dated one at 1887."
"Wow. That's really cool."<
br />
"Yeah, it's a nice little space. I like to write back here."
Annie looked interested. "What do you write about?"
Baxter thought about this. "Things that aren't going to be around for much longer. Old buildings that are being torn down, falling walls, condemned bridges. Any place that's been reclaimed by nature. Empty lots full of weeds, burnt-out houses… abandoned things."
They walked for a bit in silence, putting the campus behind them. Signs of spring filled the Pennsylvanian wood, color and scent and song mingled together to create the coming day. Baxter breathed deeply, took another bite of his pretzel and regretted it. Annie was looking all around her, trying to take it all in.
"This was a fantastic idea."
"Thanks" Baxter said, pleased. "You know, Zak kind of mocked me for asking you to come out like this."
Annie wrinkled her nose. "Zak? What does he know?"
"Well, he's not really the outdoor type. I'm sure he's still up in the room, sleeping…"
"Yeah. Alone."
"Touché."
"I heard that he played some really bizarre music at that big party last month," Annie said. Baxter nodded, adjusting the strap on his binoculars so they were no longer tenderizing his sternum.
"Oh, yeah. iFFF. Don't even ask, there's this whole weird deal with them. It's some bizarre sex cult thing, worship of 'strange elder gods' and whatnot. It's Zak's big obsession at the moment."
Annie nodded. "James was playing it the other night at his place; it actually drove most of the people out of the room, which he claimed was his goal."
Baxter chuckled. "Ah, yes, K-Tel presents: 'Music to Alienate Your Friends'. Isn't it great to be him?"
"I don't want to talk about him. Talk about you."
This was an awkward position to put him in and Baxter felt Annie was actually enjoying it. "Well, what do you want to know, exactly?"
"I don't know. Something. Anything. Thrill me."