Sowing Season

by Brian Patrick Edwards

  “Isaac, you’re not alone.” The television mounted upon the wall flipped on, unprompted and displayed the perfect image of Susan on its screen. She was wearing one of her silky, luxurious nightgowns. He loved the rich red color. She knew it was his favorite.

  “I wish I could hold you,” Isaac half-whispered, after he calmed down from the startling vision.

  “I’m sorry, love. I hope I can make that happen one day, but I’m afraid this is the best I can do for now.”

  “Do you think it might be possible -- one day?” Isaac asked crawling onto the couch in front of the display. Susan’s face looked so lifelike, just as it did when she was physically in front of him. Her angelic image was shining with the brilliance of a million pixels behind her. Green eyes, red hair, she looked like a flower upon his wall.

  “Perhaps one day, but you may not need it. I know it hurts now, but one day you’ll recover and you’ll have the company of our beautiful daughter with you.”

  “I’m so tired, but I don’t think I can sleep in our bed alone with your side so cold and empty. I don’t think I can do it. I don’t think I can do any of it. It's too much to bear."

  “You’re strong, Isaac and you’ll get through this. I need you to get through it -- for me, I want you to avenge me, love.”

  “No way I’m going to be able to do it on my own. I don’t have any idea about where to even begin looking for these monsters. They’ve left zero traces. It’s like they’re invisible, or ghosts. I mean, I’ve tried for months and with no success.” Isaac shook his head, all confidence drained from him. He didn’t understand why Unity was so patient with him. It didn’t make sense. After all the time and resources he had wasted on Isaac, why did Unity still bother with him when he had clearly failed?

  “You’ll have two visitors soon.” Susan’s face became more serious, the smile faded from her face, and her cat-like eyes seemed to darken suddenly.

  “Who?”

  “Two men…two men that have worked for me a while longer than you. One will bring you an arsenal -- the tools you will use to trample the monsters. The other has invested his time in becoming a Zealot.”

  “He’s joining them?” Isaac was at a loss for words, “I can’t believe I’ve never thought of that -- of infiltrating them.”

  “They’ll be here later tonight. So, get some rest.”

  Isaac didn't want to leave her. Her voice and image comforted him more than anything. It comforted him so completely that it came dangerously close to allowing him to believe it was all real and that nothing had changed. He obeyed Unity's command and went to bed upstairs with plans sleep for as long as he could.

  …

  As he laid his head on the pillow, tears pooled in the corners of his eyes. The golden sunlight upon his lids soon transitioned to darkness as night arrived. Even with his heart still burdened with unshakable sadness, he drifted off to sleep quickly. It was a deep sleep, devoid of dreams. Unity left his mind untouched for once, allowing it to heal and recharge after all of the trauma and exhaustion. Two figures stood above his bed and one reached to turn on the brass lamp sitting on the wooden bedside table.

  “Isaac,” one of the voices called, alerting him of their presence.

  “Who the hell?” he shouted, almost leaping from his bed.

  “Isaac, these are my servants. These are the men who will help you take revenge.”

  “Sorry,” Isaac took a deep breath to collect himself, “guys, wow, could’ve rang the doorbell, you know.”

  “We rang it many times,” one of the men answered, dressed head-to-toe in black, his face gaunt and without emotion. Isaac’s intuition told him that this was a very serious man, one with little patience for pleasantries. He clutched a large duffle bag and hard objects packed inside made impressions on the outside of the bag. One of the bumps on the canvas was about the size of a gun stock, something familiar to Isaac.

  “I’m Franklin,” the man with the bag introduced himself. “This here is Reginald,” he continued, gesturing to the black man beside him. Reginald looked much friendlier than Franklin. He stood openly and smiled slightly without showing his teeth.

  “It’s good to meet you, Isaac. You can call me Reggie, something Franklin just refuses to do,” shaking his hand even though he was still in bed, but sitting upright, “and my deepest condolences,” he offered, his face became grim for a brief moment.

  “So, I’m guessing you’re the rat?”

  “Yes,” he chuckled lightly, “I’ve worked for months to get into their good graces. It’s no easy process, but they’ve been increasingly busy and have a great need to expand and find new recruits. They will initiate me tomorrow night, assuming all goes well.”

  “So, Unity speaks to y’all too?” Isaac was so excited to finally meet others who had similar encounters. It added additional assurance he remained in sound mental health despite his boss and the medical staff’s desire to give him a psych evaluation.

  "Yes," Reginald answered bluntly. Franklin sighed and shifted his grip on the large bag.

  “Let’s move downstairs. It’s a bit weird meeting in my bedroom.” Isaac’s head swirled with countless questions he hoped to ask, but he could see that Franklin wasn’t happy to continue standing with such a heavy bag in his hand.

  “Sounds good.” Franklin left ahead of them and made his way down the stairs, “We need the window blinds closed. Don’t need anyone peeping in and getting curious.”

  “House, activate privacy mode,” Isaac commanded, speaking to the built-in home control system. At his command, every window immediately transitioned from transparent to opaque, shielding them from prying eyes. “Y’all want anything to drink? I’ve got some beers.”

  “I don’t drink, but thank you,” Reginald replied, taking a seat at the gigantic stark white table in the dining room, just off the kitchen.

  “You, Frank?”

  “I prefer Franklin, and no.” His eyes were shark-like, entirely void of humanity. “This is a matter for sober minds, so I’ll take some tea. I suggest you do the same.”

  The man’s company wasn’t much of a joy for the host and Isaac joked to himself, this is precisely why it’s better to have genetically engineered children. This guy’s personality is a birth-defect. Wonder if it was his mom or his dad who’s responsible?

  Isaac didn’t want anything to do with sobriety. He really wanted to get intoxicated and stay that way for the remainder of his life. That, and to drown himself in other methods of self-medication, but he gave into a glass of sweet tea instead. Reaching into the cabinet for three glasses, he gingerly placed them on the table where his guests sat. He poured the tea and took a seat at the head of the table, flanked by both visitors.

  “What have you brought me?”

  After a few silent sips from his glass, Franklin stood and unzipped the duffle bag, which unfolded in three directions, containing numerous firearms and countless rounds of ammunition. “This is your rifle.”

  “A Scar, hm? Very nice. Wow!” Isaac stood and took the gun from the taller man, holding it in his hands, inspecting it. The gun was fully stocked with attachments; a tactical light, an angled foregrip, and a holographic sight. He quickly began daydreaming of all the damage and death that he could dish out with such a weapon. “Where’d you acquire such a beauty?” He grinned, worshipping the elegant modeling of the Scar.

  "There are very few things Unity can't do. Obtaining arms is amongst the easiest of requests.” The man also showed him the flashbangs, extended mags, and the sidearm packed along with it. Isaac could see by the immaculate finish on the weapons that they were likely brand new, not yet fired. Only the military and law enforcement had access to firearms, so these weapons must have been procured from their supply, or at least repurposed, as the supply had been blessed by Unity’s and, like all things, flowed from him.

  “What’s the plan then? We just waiting for your initiation?" Isaac asked Reginald after placing the rifle back into the opened duffle bag. />
  “No, we need to take this slow and collect data on them for a couple of weeks at least.” Reginald sipped his tea, hoping Isaac would be easy to work with.

  “No offense or anything, but I don’t know if I have the patience for it. I want these animals put down. We could just raid the house afterward, do a sweep for data.” Normally, Isaac would have no problem with Reginald's plan, but after the events of the past few days, he lost all tolerance for time -- for waiting. Bloodthirst filled his dreams and every waking moment’s imagination.

  “If, for some reason, it turns out there’s no physical data, then we would lose everything worth using.” Reginald felt silly explaining such basic things, now fearing Isaac might prove difficult to control. Isaac nodded in agreement, determining the best way to approach the Zealots. He sat back in the chair, it’s backing rose a foot higher than his head. Closing his eyes, he meditated, envisioning the best plan of action. Rather than his usual clear thinking, all he felt was only an immense hatred and bloodlust for the Zealots. Plans and meetings like this just slowed him down. He wanted to terminate them. The weeks of manipulation and the loss of Susan would gain a new meaningful purpose in an instant of spraying bullets and attaining his revenge.

  "We could save one for interrogation if there isn't anything to raid, but I promise you, they'll leave stuff behind. They always do."

  “Yeah,” Franklin chuckled sarcastically, “the department’s done a great job tracking them down after the raid in Avondale, hasn’t it?”

  “Well,” Isaac ignored the comment, “this time we can use much harsher interrogation techniques.”

  “Who’s going to torture them?”

  “I can,” Franklin volunteered flatly, picking at his fingernails.

  “You’ve experience?”

  Franklin’s dark and lifeless eyes looked up from his hands and stared directly into Isaac’s soul, like a look from the Reaper himself, “Lifetime of experiences.”

  “I see.” Franklin’s shortness irritated Isaac. His patience thinned even further as he started to resent working with the man.

  “Honey, listen to Reginald,” Susan's voice resonated in his Auris. Still, like a visit from a ghost, it unnerved him when he didn’t expect to hear it. “You’ll soon have your chance, but listen to his plan. He's been working very hard on this and it's extremely time-consuming. It would be a waste if you were to ruin it before we got anything out of it."

  “Okay, darling, okay. I’ll leave it alone.”

  “Excuse me?” Reginald asked, his eyebrows pushed together in confusion.

  “We’ll go with your plan. I’ll have my fun, eventually.”

  “Good. Very good.”

  They remained there, seated around the table, the rest of the night. The men discussed numerous plan variations and possibilities, including multiple contingencies. They conspired and schemed about ways to eliminate the terrorists once and for all in the Birmingham area. They had a short window of time before the Zealots would execute another attack. They felt an urgency to act quickly before the STORK headquarters tower itself fell.

  Everything had changed for Isaac. He now lived only to see a modern holocaust carried out against the Zealots, especially those in the Birmingham area for they were directly responsible for taking Susan’s life. Soon, he would satisfy his craving and peace will then abound in his life. All of his foes will be as worm food.

  Unity smiled down upon their meeting, watching and listening to their every move and word. His will would soon be done, returning the Earth to the heaven he envisioned for it. Many groups, in every major area of the world were doing the same things as these three men. They met and developed plans to eliminate the Zealots, but the Birmingham team held his entire favor and joy. They were the heroes he needed -- the turn of destiny to protect the future of his kingdom.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The faces, names, and lives played infinitely in Stone's head. They were on loops, whether the news had been turned on or not, there wasn't a moment of peace for the young man. Stone had chewed his nails away until there was nothing left to bite or tear away. Cigarettes had been smoked constantly, as Stone appeared to be a sort of human-chimney releasing an uninterrupted cloud of smoke into the air. The faces, the dead, the murdered men, women, and children Stone had killed never left his attention. Tears only fell from his face in secret, when he had gone on walks around the block to clear his mind with no success. Clarity was impossible for him to obtain, thoughts of his future were clouded with smoke, and his retrospection flooded with the blood of a hundred people.

  The words that his friends and mentors had offered him had done nothing to help clear his conscience. He thought more of what they had done, and as horrible as their actions had been against the unborn, many of them may have been forced to visit the clinics. Stone was unable to shake the idea, that there may have been a couple of innocent lives destroyed or the idea that in a sense, he and his friends had carried out the abortions themselves. They were just as guilty killing the unborn as the doctors had been, but Jeremy said they were preventing it from happening in the future. No answers made a difference to Stone, although many believed he had been coming around as he kept his remorse secret.

  Stone missed his family. Throughout the days since the bombing, Stone imagined returning home to the embrace of his incredible and forgiving kin. The thought had been the only thing that lifted his spirits until he was turned to remember that they likely knew what he had done. He wasn't sure he could ever face them again; Stone believed God Himself wouldn't forgive him for his crimes. However, the idea of running to them, and attempting repentance grew until he could no longer take it. It had grown until it was impossible for him to ignore the desire to go home.

  He unlocked the downstairs apartment after his morning walk and entered. The air outside had been so frosty that as soon as he entered it he began to overheat and needed to strip immediately of his coat and over shirt. Debra sat on the couch in the living room, submerged into her virtual reality. She often visited the place in the clouds with Nelson in the simulated realm. There wasn’t a limit to what she could do with her companion as they snooped through people’s private information and lost articles scattered about the internet.

  Stone began packing his duffle bag with all the same items Cole had placed in there an eternity ago. Most of which had always remained in the bag, as Stone had practically lived out of it ever since his brother had tossed it from the window. Once it was packed, he placed it back where it had been sitting before. If he was going to leave the Zealots, he would return once more for the bag, but at that time he simply wanted to attempt to rejoin his true family. Stone sat beside Debra on the couch.

  “Stone?” She asked, still unable to see as she was placed elsewhere virtually, but could still feel his weight land beside her on the couch and the stench of cigarettes filling the air.

  “Yes, Debs,” he answered, his voice was choked and depressed.

  “What’s wrong?” She withdrew from the virtual place, to see him sitting beside her with his face drooping towards the floor, “Are you alright?”

  He responded by the gentle left to right shaking of his head, “I’m about to head out for a little while…but I’ll be back.”

  “Where are you going?”

  Stone didn’t want to tell her or raise any suspicions. She looked at him with great concern, her amber-brown eyes sparkled with sincerity as she searched him visually for clues. “I’ve got a couple of errands to run and need to return something to Cole,” he lied.

  “Is that all?”

  "Yeah, …just didn't want to be gone for so long without you knowing."

  “But are you okay? It seems like you’re holding back. You look troubled.”

  “Well, I ain’t happy, but that doesn’t matter…just how things are,” Stone said, standing from the couch.

  “You haven’t been yourself ever since the bombings.”

  Stone didn’t answer immediately, he just
watched the cat stalking him from under a chair. “I don’t know. Just feel like we’re still not fighting the war I signed up for. Don’t you ever think about it? About what we’ve actually done to date?”

  “I think about it all the time. We had great success last week and thanks to you for helping us pull it off. Couldn't have gone better.”

  “Yeah, it was an incredible victory. God smiles upon us,” his words dripped with sarcasm and he rolled his eyes. “I'll be back in a couple hours. Maybe sooner.”

  “God does smile upon you. You’re working towards sainthood and your bravery will be remembered forever.”

  “There isn’t anything brave about what we did.” Stone shook his head and frowned, deciding to open up to her a bit more than he had before. “Our attack was carried out miles away in the comfort of this apartment. There wasn’t any danger for us…a security officer that we awakened from a nap was the greatest threat we faced. I’m not the crusader I thought I would be when I joined and this branding makes me feel ridiculous. I’m a living lie wearing it.”

  “Oh? So, you think we’re all liars too?” Debra fired back, “Think we should all feel ridiculous?”

  “That’s not what I mean. It’s just how I feel about myself, you know?” Stone slowly shook his head as he continued to frown.

  “You really coming back?” she asked, her voice held hints and notes of anger in it.

  “Yeah. I told you I’m just going to run some errands.” He started to walk away from the couch, with his back turned towards her.

  “You just sound like someone that’s giving up.”

  “I’m not giving up,” he lied.

  “We’ve been over this several times, Stone.” She shifted from her position of comfort on the couch, sitting up, “When are you going to remember the vow you made? We told you that there would be difficult times -- times you wouldn’t feel proud of the sacrifices we make.”