Descending Son

by Scott Shepherd

  While we waited, more details emerged about the search party’s discoveries. I was told about the field covered with shards of glass and even got a look at the dead bodies hauled back in one of the jeeps. They looked like they had been sliced by a machete and then feasted upon by wild animals. The locals wrote it off as drug war casualties but I noticed inconsistencies that bothered me, especially when I thought about James’s bite marks. But my protests were met with great resistance by the locals who wouldn’t let us reclaim the bodies. They loaded the corpses onto a funeral pyre and burned them that same night. I sat in the tent, drinking more than I should, and watched the flames rise while keeping an eye on Clark, who was stable enough that the vomiting had stopped and moans quieted down. I noticed that the night air agreed with him as opposed to the sunshine he constantly complained about—but I didn’t understand the significance of this yet.

  By the time I did it was much too late.

  May 29

  Clark’s anguished cries roused me from a deep sleep and I saw him huddled in a corner of the tent, crawling away from the rays of morning sunlight that came through the opening in the canvas.

  Fighting off pulsing hangover pain, I scrambled off my cot and closed the tent flap. As I got Clark settled back down, something nagged at me, but I tossed the concern aside because the actor was sweating profusely and breathing heavily. Yet his eyes were wide open and focused for the first time since he told me the rest of the scout party had died.

  “Palm Springs,” he grunted.

  “What about Palm Springs?”

  “You have to take me to Palm Springs.”

  I told him we were lucky to get the chopper on such short notice, but it was only contracted to return to Puerto Vallarta. Clark insisted he return to Palm Springs and would compensate the pilot handsomely for his trouble. I argued we needed to get him to a hospital right away, but Clark became so agitated, I agreed to ask the pilot if he could reroute. It turned out offering money, especially the amount James suggested, spoke much louder than common sense, so in a matter of hours we were on our way to Palm Springs.

  It wasn’t until we were moving Clark from the tent that I realized what had been tugging at my brain ever since I awoke with a pounding head.

  As I let the Medevac pilot and his gurney inside, I found myself staring at the tent flap…

  I distinctly recalled fastening it before falling asleep the previous night, but remembered the sunlight streaming through the opening that had awakened Clark and caused him to cry out.

  What was it doing open?

  That triggered a hazy but strange memory of a dream I had that night. At least I thought it was a dream. Now, staring at the flap, I began to wonder.

  The dream-memory floated back into my brain. I remembered stirring briefly because someone was murmuring nearby. I had turned to look at the sleeping Clark where I saw a figure hovering over him, whispering in his ear. But the fog from the consumed alcohol, my dreamy-drifty state of mind, and the vague shadows convinced me I was more asleep than awake. I gave in to the pull of deep sleep and didn’t wake till morning.

  Now I wondered if someone had actually walked in and knelt down by Clark James in the middle of the night. It seemed preposterous, so I didn’t wrestle with it for long. I wrote it off to stress and alcohol-induced delusions and forgot about it.

  Until a couple of weeks later when I saw the very same figure in Clark James’s room at Meadowland.

  4

  They dropped Tag off at a small house in the village. It belonged to a friend who didn’t ask many questions, was used to the eccentricities of the screenwriter-inventor, and not thrown by him showing up at five in the morning. Before they parted ways, Tag told Jess he would drop by the glass house each day to make sure Tracy was still locked inside. He swore not to enter lest Tracy go into attack mode, and reassured Jess there was no way for her to outmaneuver the override. Jess threw his arms around the man and thanked him profusely.

  “Just get back here as soon as you can,” said Tag.

  “One way or another,” Jess promised.

  Jess rejoined Maria in the pickup. Both were exhausted and rode in silence the short distance back to her great-aunt’s house. Sophia threw open the front door before they exited the truck; she had been sick with worry and wearing out the living room rug. The heavy smell of incense greeted them upon entering the house, and Jess wasn’t surprised the old woman had lit more than one candle for them during her daylong vigil.

  Jess had planned to just pick up their things and immediately start back to Puerto Vallarta to catch a plane north. But Sophia wouldn’t hear of it, insisting they get some rest. He knew it was pointless to argue and went back with Maria to the small bedroom.

  Maria was out before her head hit the pillow, but Jess lay awake in the darkness. Not wanting to disturb her with his tossing and turning, he slipped out of bed. He headed out back and sank into a chair on the edge of Sophia’s garden.

  As Jess stared into the darkness, mulling over what to do once back in Palm Springs, he couldn’t stop thinking about Tracy’s plaintive screams. They echoed in his head like an eerie mantra and hadn’t eased up when the sun began to rise an hour later.

  It was only when the rays of light gleamed off the pink and white roses climbing the wedding trellis that he grasped a glimmer of hope. Their ability to rebloom year after year gave Jess solace. Maybe death didn’t have to conquer all.

  Tracy’s cries slipped away with the emergence of the sun and the gentle hand that touched his shoulder.

  “Come inside. You need to sleep.”

  If he didn’t know better, he would have said an angel had descended from the heavens above. Maria was wearing only the T-shirt and her hair glistened in the early dawn.

  Jess let her lead him back inside, where they lay down on the tiny bed. They wrapped their arms around each other as sleep was thrown to the wayside. Their lovemaking was desperate and they clung to one another long after they were both satiated. When they fell asleep, neither would let go, as if that living bond would protect them from the undead they knew awaited their return to the California desert.

  Later that morning, Angel, the café owner, got a bunch more pesos off Jess when he used the phone to call Benji. After listening to his old friend belt out a few “Hallelujahs” that Jess was still amongst the living, he got an update on the Palm Springs situation. Jess was still wanted as a “person of interest” in the murder of Edward Rice. Thaddeus Burke had dropped by the motel a few times and on his last visit, Benji let the sheriff go through the room Jess had occupied.

  “He was threatening to get a search warrant and I figured it wasn’t like you’d left a road map where you guys were headed.” Benji sounded apologetic and Jess assured him he had done nothing wrong.

  Jess told Benji they were headed back to the Coachella Valley. On one hand, Benji was happy they were returning, but he was simultaneously worried the only thing Jess would see was the inside of a jail cell.

  “That’s one of the reasons I’m calling. I could use some help.”

  “Just tell me what you want me to do.”

  Jess did.

  He heard his high school buddy’s sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. “That’s kind of crazy, man.”

  “So is looking for the undead.”

  “Touché.” Benji laughed, but Jess could hear the nervousness in it. Still, the motel owner was game and said he would arrange things. Jess started to tell him he didn’t have to do it, but Benji stopped him midsentence.

  “C’mon, man. You want me to start singing ‘That’s What Friends Are For’?”

  “No thanks. I’ve had my fair share of horrifying things recently.”

  Jess hung up and looked across the café. Angel was eyeing him, but he had no idea if the man had overheard him or understood a single word. Jess doubted the latter, figuring the café owner would have run for the hills. Jess nodded thanks, gave Angel a few more pesos for his troubles (whic
h was all the man was probably looking for), then headed down the road to say goodbye to Sophia.

  Something else he hadn’t been looking forward to.

  She had packed a picnic lunch for them. Once again Jess saw where the Flores women had inherited their caretaking nature—the elderly woman was only happy when tending to others’ needs. It made the loss of her dear Luis so much more tragic. Sophia had lived an entire life unable to bestow her gifts and love on the person who mattered most.

  They said farewell in the garden out back as Sophia couldn’t bear to watch them depart. Jess knew she was afraid they might never return and did what he could to assuage those fears. He said they would return. He had already made a promise and would die before not fulfilling it.

  “Take good care of each other,” Sophia said.

  “We will, Tía,” Maria told her. The women hugged as Maria whispered some form of endearment in Spanish into her great-aunt’s ear. Sophia immediately started to sob; Jess couldn’t tell if they were tears of sadness or joy.

  Then it was Jess’s turn. He looked at Maria, who was wiping tears from her own eyes. She nodded at him, as if giving permission. He sighed, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver locket. It was in the shape of a heart and more than slightly tarnished—after all, it had been lying on the floor of an underground cavern for over half a century.

  “I believe this was meant for you,” Jess said.

  Sophia took the locket from his hand and her fingers shook as she opened it. Inside was a black-and-white picture of a young teenage couple, circa early 1940s. When Jess had first seen it he easily recognized the young Sophia Flores gazing happily into an ancient camera lens. He knew the handsome bronzed teen had to be her soon-to-be-wedded Luis. Sophia’s tears flowed again as she read the engraved Spanish inscription on the locket’s inner face. Maria had translated it for Jess when he first showed it to her: “A life together—forever”

  “August 30, 1946. Was that your wedding date?” asked Jess.

  Sophia nodded, fingering the locket. “I had no idea this even existed.” She tapped the photo. “But I do remember taking it. There was a photographer who would come to the village maybe once or twice a year. He would charge to take a picture, much more than any of us could afford. Luis wanted one but I tried to talk him out of it. We needed every penny for the wedding. But he insisted and wouldn’t tell me why.” She snapped the locket shut and kissed it gently with her lips. “Now at last I know.”

  Sophia threw her arms around Jess and held him tight. “Gracias, Jessie. It’s the perfect wedding gift.” She said it with so much love and affection that Jess felt he had been blessed.

  She crossed to the trellis and hung the locket on one of the pink and white rose stems. Then Sophia turned to face them. “In case he wants to come and visit, he’ll know where it is.”

  Both Jess and Maria’s hearts broke. Finally, after more hugs, tears, and drying of eyes, Maria took Jess’s hand and led him out of the garden so they could begin the long trek home.

  It wasn’t until they were on the plane halfway back to Ensenada that Maria mentioned Tracy.

  “Did we do the right thing leaving her there?”

  “I wish I knew. I just don’t think we could run the risk. Look what she almost did to you.”

  “But you heard what she said. She couldn’t bring herself to hurt me.”

  “We’ve no idea how any of this really works. She might eventually lose control and then what?”

  Maria considered this, and then shook her head. “I think you are who you are. She seems like a good person. It’s easy to understand why you fell in love with her.”

  “And that doesn’t bother you? Everything we’re doing to try and help her?”

  “It has nothing to do with us, Jessie. I know you wouldn’t have started up with me if there was still something between the two of you. I wouldn’t have let you.”

  “You know there’s no chance of that anymore.”

  “But I didn’t when we headed down here. Neither of us knew what she had become.” She took his hand and kissed it gently.

  “How’d I get so lucky?” Jess asked after returning the kiss.

  “I think you were long overdue.”

  They retrieved Maria’s car from the parking garage at the Ensenada airport and headed up the highway to the border. Jess got in the trunk once again—even though he doubted the authorities would be looking for him reentering the country. His anxiety proved unnecessary as they sailed right through the checkpoint. They made great time heading up Interstate 15 and reached the outskirts of Palm Springs in less than a couple of hours.

  By the time they hit Palm Canyon Drive, the sun was just descending.

  Which didn’t make Jess feel a whole lot better.

  5

  Benji was waiting for them when they arrived at Maria’s apartment. They had vetoed the Sands. Jess wasn’t quite ready should Thaddeus Burke pop by for the umpteenth time. He wanted to get all his ducks in a row first. Benji had picked up sandwiches and they sat around Maria’s table in her tiny kitchen as they filled him in on their trip into the Mexican jungle.

  “Sounds like you had no other choice,” Benji said when Jess got to the part about imprisoning Tracy in the glass house on the hill.

  “I keep telling myself that,” Jess responded. “Doesn’t make me feel a whole lot better. Everything status quo with her father?”

  “It’s a go. Though I still don’t love the idea.” Benji reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope. “As requested—one ticket.”

  Jess stuffed it away. Maria said she wanted to come along—and not for the first time; the same discussion had occupied most of the drive back from the border. He repeated the same reasons for Maria staying behind. He had dragged her into enough already and it was fifty-fifty Clark James would even talk to him. Those odds would diminish rapidly if he weren’t alone. Realizing she would never win this battle, Maria finally relented.

  Jess took a quick shower, changed into his version of something presentable, and then went over the last part of the plan with Benji.

  “How long till I make the call?” his former teammate asked.

  “Once I get there.”

  “Can I go on record again and say I am not in favor of this?” Benji asked.

  “I second that,” Maria added.

  “Duly noted.”

  He kissed Maria goodbye, bear-hugged Benji, and two minutes later retrieved the SUV from her garage and headed toward downtown Palm Springs.

  The last few guests were making their way into the Palm Springs Cinema when Jess drove past, looking for a parking space. He thought it a good omen when he nabbed a spot only a block from the movie palace. As he approached the theater, Jess pulled out his cell and quickly punched in the number to the Sands. Benji, recognizing Jess’s cell, abandoned the usual come-on cutesy quip.

  “You there?”

  “Just about to walk in. Call him.”

  Benji couldn’t help asking one more time. “You sure about this?”

  “No,” Jess said. “But call Burke anyway.”

  “You got it,” Benji said. “Good luck.”

  Jess disconnected, knowing he would need a whole lot of it.

  The sign on the marquee read “An Evening With Palm Springs’ Clark James.” As long as he was breathing, Jess was sure the actor wouldn’t miss out on a self-congratulatory affair. When Jess was down in Mexico and began to realize Clark’s culpability in the tragedies that had occurred in the desert, he realized it would be best to confront him in a very public place.

  Jess waited to enter the lobby until a few minutes after the lights flashed, signifying the program was about to begin. When the house lights dimmed, Jess walked in the theater and managed to find a seat in the back just as Clark James took the stage to thunderous applause.

  As the actor began speaking, Jess watched him with a different perspective. He had known Clark James for the better part of his life. He had b
een that “movie star” friend of his parents and then, for a brief summer, the father of the girl he loved. Now, as the handsome leading man enthralled his audience with tales of Hollywood and his off-screen antics, Jess realized he was performing the role of a lifetime: pretending to be himself.

  If Jess hadn’t known better, he would say the actor on stage was the same egotistical ham he had been since his first big hit thirty years earlier. If anything, Clark was more animated and bombastic than before the creature in Santa Alvarado turned him, and that concerned Jess. His own father had exhibited unnatural strength, even for a healthy man his age, when he had rescued Jess from the desert grave. He realized the change both men had undergone not only brought them back to life but also revitalized them beyond belief. It made going up against the spawn of the Civatateo all the more intimidating.

  Meanwhile, Clark had the audience eating out of his hand, which Jess found ironic; he knew the actor would rather be sucking the blood out of theirs. James answered questions with more humorous anecdotes. As he wound down his opening remarks and set the stage for the screening of Pathfinders, perhaps his most famous film, a Western that had garnered Clark the first of three Oscar nominations, Jess headed to the aisle on one side of the theater. Cloaked in darkness, he was able to move towards the stage where Clark finished and took three more bows than necessary to the ensuing applause. The lights winked out, the film projector flickered, and the movie started.

  Jess caught a break.

  He was pretty certain Clark James would head for a spot in the audience to watch the film with the crowd. Jess had been prepared to confront him in the darkness as he went to find his seat, but was saved the trouble when James stepped to the side of the stage. Jess realized Clark was either going to watch from the wings or make a quick exit, so he picked up the pace before the latter could occur, and suddenly the two of them were alone backstage.