Only the Strong

by Ethan Cross

  “Good. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  ~~*~~

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  As they pulled up to his reserved spot, Baxter realized he hadn’t recorded the additional Baxter’s Log episode that Kevin had requested. Before Jenny could exit the Mustang, Baxter said, “Hold up, sunshine. I gotta do a thing for the guy.”

  “Huh?”

  Baxter looked deep into Jennifer Vasillo’s eyes, cleared his throat, and then pressed the record button on his iPhone.

  “Baxter’s Log. Stardate . . . I gotta be honest here, I never could understand the whole stardate thing. Not that I ever really gave it too much thought. Anyway . . .

  Why don’t people see that we are, in actuality, an infinitely complex mass of infinitesimally small particles? A scientist would agree with me on that much, I expect. However, I propose that at the most basic level there is a particle that is the originator of all the others. Call it Alpha. Call it Omega. Call it God.

  The point is that something beyond our comprehension set this whole train in motion. We have trouble wrapping our small minds around that because our limited thinking is governed by time and space. We simply can’t comprehend a being who exists beyond a linear timeline, a being like the one who wrote the laws of physics. What is there beyond time and space? How do we possibly understand the will of a fifth-dimensional entity? These are realities that we may never fully explore before humankind blinks out. But we still owe it to ourselves to search out some of those answers. My assertion is this: If you honestly seek, you will most definitely find. And if you’re honest with yourself and follow your heart, the right path will just open up to you, one small step at a time.

  I’m Baxter Kincaid, and I approved this message. Baxter out . . .”

  As he ended the recording, he noticed Jenny looking at him as if a tiny Jimi Hendrix had just sprouted from his shoulder and started in on “The Star-Spangled Banner.” She said, “You are a total weirdo, you realize that.”

  Baxter giggled. “You know, we spend about half our lives trying to be just like everybody else. Trying to blend in and survive. But then we realize that all we really want to do is be different. As the late, great Jimi Hendrix said, ‘I gotta be stone free to do what I want.’”

  “Do you ever go back and listen to those recordings, so that you can actually hear the way you sound?”

  Baxter said, “Nah, that’s in the past. And you know time is like a river, ever changing as it flows. And we time travelers are like vessels that must follow where it goes.”

  “Did you just paraphrase a Garth Brooks song?”

  With a laugh, he said, “Oh yeah, that is a song. Good thing I didn’t say that on the recording.”

  After ascending the stairs, Baxter knocked on Kevin’s door, and they waited as the sound of a platoon of deadbolt locks were undone. With two chain locks still in place, Kevin peeked out at Baxter from beneath his trademark hood. The only difference was that he wasn’t wearing his usual sunglasses.

  Kevin said, “You scared the crap out of me, man. Do you have a new post for me? They are eating the last one up. I think we should really get another one up quick.”

  “Yep, I just recorded one for you. Why don’t you let me in, and we can transfer it over or whatever you need to do?”

  “You can just email it to me or use that file transfer app that I showed you.”

  “Well, I was wanting you to do another little thing for me. It’s related to a case. I know you expressed interest in becoming more involved here at Baxtercorp, and so I thought—”

  “Do you have someone with you?” Kevin asked.

  “It’s just Jenny from Amoeba Music. Remember, I told you that she was kind of job shadowing me. Let us in, Kevster.”

  “You know how I feel about the uninitiated, Baxter.”

  “Yeah, I know, brother. But she’s straight, man. I’m telling you.”

  “Are you vouching for her?”

  “Yeah, man, that’s what I’m saying. I totally vouch for her. If she were a contract, I’d be like signing all over her. Come on, Kevarino. I guarantee she’s the hottest chickadee you’ve ever had in that apartment. And the ones on your computer screen don’t count.”

  “Wait there.”

  Kevin shut the door, and they stood there for a full minute before Jenny said, “I thought this guy was a friend of yours? And what was that job-shadowing crap?”

  “Kevin’s a good dude. He’s just a little eccentric and a whole lot paranoid.”

  The door opened, but instead of inviting them in, Kevin stepped out into the hallway with a scanning wand. It looked like the type used at airports, except that this one appeared to have been modified by Kevin himself. He said, “I’m just going to check you guys for bugs.”

  “I know she looks a little Seattle grungy, but I don’t think that the fair Jenny has any parasites crawling on her.”

  “I mean like government bugs. Recording devices. Things you may not even know they planted on you.” Kevin started scanning them with his homemade wand. After a moment, he said, “Okay, you’re clear. But no sudden movements, don’t leave my sight, and I’d like both of you to sign nondisclosure agreements.”

  ~~*~~

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  As he watched the vermin pace back and forth, back and forth, Ackerman wondered what instinct told the little dog which spot was best. Was the canine actually choosing a spot or merely working itself up for the deed? He shouted, “You disgust me, creature.”

  As if in response, the dog stopped and squatted. A woman in high heels and a red jacket passed on the sidewalk beside the motor inn. Ackerman called to her, “You don’t know whose dog this is, do you? I think it’s in need of a good home.”

  She merely diverted her gaze and kept walking.

  “See that. She didn’t like you either.”

  The dog started prancing around as if it had achieved some great accomplishment in finding the perfect spot to defecate. It barked and pranced in his direction. It looked up at him, tongue hanging and tail wagging.

  “I don’t have time for this. You know I should be out there securing our meeting with Mr. King, right now, not talking to an inbred mutt who has no idea what I’m saying.”

  The dog barked.

  “Are you trying to say that you do understand? Bark once for ‘Yes’ and twice if I’m just losing the last of my sanity.”

  The dog barked twice.

  “Are you being facetious?”

  The dog barked once. Ackerman merely stared at the creature a moment. Then he said, “The car is just across the street. I could hotwire it, and be on my way. I’m sure with a little finesse I could be back in an hour and a half. Two hours tops.”

  The dog issued a low growl, whipped its head around, and started barking. The fit lasted about three seconds, until it lost interest and returned to him.

  “I know what you’re saying. And you’re right. They are watching us. Tracking me with some kind of chip embedded in my spine.”

  The dog whimpered.

  “Don’t cry for me. I don’t mind the chip. It was a necessary evil. The one thing I don’t like is that I have yet to figure out a way to beat their system. They say that someone is monitoring my movements. But are they really? Maybe it’s time to test the fences. See how far the leash really stretches.”

  The dog issued some strange and whiny “ro-ro-ro” sound.

  “Your concern is touching, but don’t worry, my little parasite, your meal ticket isn’t going anywhere. They would never actually enforce a kill option. Not unless I had gone completely off the rails. For goodness sakes, these people have studied me for years. They know me. They’re going to have to expect a certain level of rebellion and disobedience. Right?”

  Ackerman sat on the curb. The dog pranced in front of him and barked twice.

&nbs
p; “That’s not a very polite thing to say. And totally subjective.”

  The dog ran and jumped at him, its front paws coming to rest on his chest. Then it licked his face and rubbed against his chest.

  Ackerman pushed it away. “No apologies necessary, but I appreciate the gesture of respect. If we’re going to be doing this for at least a period of time, then we might as well establish some rules. I’m the alpha. You are not even a beta in this pack. Do you understand? You are an omega. The lowest rung of our pack’s social hierarchy. You should fear and respect me. And be happy that I’m allowing your existence.”

  The creature tried to lick him again. “Okay, wonderful. Thank you.”

  He stood to escape the dog’s reach, and as he did, he spotted their rental car across the road. It was right there for the taking. The address was in his memory. The car was equipped with GPS.

  But if they were monitoring him as they claimed, or even if they checked his movements periodically, they would find out that he had been a bad boy. A sudden overwhelming urge to sever their leash seized him. Taking deep breaths, he fought with himself to keep from digging the tracking chip out with his fingers.

  He was no one’s dog.

  In his ear, he heard Father’s voice: You are the night, Francis. Kill them all. Kill them, and the pain will stop.

  The dog looked up at him strangely and voiced a low growl of disapproval.

  ~~*~~

  Chapter Fifty

  Bang, bang, bang.

  Bang, bang, bang, bang.

  Faster this time and with more force. Ackerman added an extra bang as a sort of period on the message.

  He heard movement inside the hotel room, and the door cracked open. Emily Morgan stood on the other side, holding an arm up to block the light from the motel’s sign. She was still in the same clothes, including her shoes, as if she had literally fallen into bed. Her small Glock 19 pistol was in her hand.

  The little dog nosed its way inside her room.

  She said, “This had better be good, Frank.”

  “Computer Man gave me the address of someone who would fit into my plan of sending a message to Mr. King. I’m going to pay him a visit. With or without you. I’m no one’s pet.”

  “Trust me. No one thinks of you as our pet.”

  “I should hope not. Are you going to drive or give me the keys?”

  With a sigh, she said, “Let me grab my jacket. What about the dog?”

  “It can come with us.”

  “Sounds like you’re warming up to him.”

  “Not at all. We’ve merely reached an understanding.”

  “Glad to hear that, but the dog will be fine alone for a while. We’ll put him in the bathroom.”

  Ackerman added, “And one more thing. I’m going to need a gun.”

  “I’m not authorized to give you a gun, Frank. No weapons of any kind. I would give the dog a gun before I gave one to you.”

  Ackerman looked down at the furry beast and said, “That’s ridiculous. It doesn’t even have thumbs.”

  ~~*~~

  Chapter Fifty-One

  The past…

  Marcus followed the sound of a woman crying into the depths of the Mad King’s castle. The air was growing colder and fresher. He felt the breeze on his cheek. He reached a junction that seemed to descend into the monstrous property’s lower levels. He could still hear her crying, but the closer he came the more he realized that it wasn’t merely a sad sobbing but a wailing of agony.

  In the little over a decade that Marcus had been alive, he had never felt fear like this. He was trapped, unable to find his way back out, and some creature was obviously down here sharpening its claws on a living subject. If he followed the sound, he could be the next victim. The fear made his legs want to run. He stared into the depths of the home. The shaft was perhaps four feet by four feet wide with metal rungs anchored to the wall every couple of feet.

  Within the totality of darkness, Marcus couldn’t see the bottom of the shaft before him. This could be the entrance to hell.

  A memory floated to the surface of his terrified thoughts. Something his father had said. Detective John Williams had leaned over to him at the dinner table, and in relation to a story he had been telling, he said, “Sometimes, you gotta do what’s right. Even when it’s stupid.”

  Steeling his heart, he thought about his father’s words. Even if this was hell, that was a person in need of help, and he couldn’t walk away even if he had the option.

  He reached out, grabbed the first rung of the ladder, and descended to the lowest level. Once on the bottom floor, he saw a vague light ahead, and it called to him like a flame to the moth. After a moment of nearly blind stumbling, he found himself inside a concrete panic room. There was a massive steel door that could seal off the entrance to the secret passages. He guessed that this was the real reason for the so-called Mad King deciding to build his home with hidden passages behind the walls: as a secret means of defense and escape.

  The room reminded Marcus of a bomb shelter, but bigger. Rows of canned food and provisions lined one wall. The opposite wall was covered with guns, like the back half of a sporting goods store.

  Marcus knew about guns. His father had showed him how to use them, and they had always been around the house. But not guns like these. These were weapons of war.

  He approached cautiously. He wanted to pick them up, but he didn’t. He stood transfixed before them, considering the implications. His father had said that Eddie’s dad and the people he worked for were bad men. But how bad did you have to be to need this many guns and a fortress to keep them in?

  A massive steel door, like that of a bank vault, stood in front of him. Beyond it, he heard the screaming.

  Looking back to the wall of guns, his fear of what monster waited in the darkness convinced him to choose a weapon. He tested a few of the big black guns and finally found one that was small enough for him to handle. He didn’t bother to load it. He had no intention of shooting anyone. He didn’t even like to kill insects. But he was also relatively certain that he could bluff his way past any man. A crazy child with a machine gun could be pretty frightening, or so he imagined. Still, he wondered: What if the thing beyond the door was no man, but some sort of demon? If that were the case, there would be no reasoning with it, no bluffing his way past. He would be dead.

  This time, he heard Eddie’s voice saying, Don’t be stupid, freak.

  With the gun in his right hand, he reached out with his left to spin the door’s release. On the other side, he found a series of concrete tunnels. The corridors were lit by bare bulbs hanging from unfinished ceilings. He came first to some storage spaces filled with boxes and old filing cabinets.

  But it didn’t take him long to find the source of the screaming. He peered around the corner and saw a large man with no neck and gray hair wearing a simple black suit. The big man stood beside another steel door and was mumbling to himself about the B-word driving him crazy.

  Marcus listened for a moment and waited. He jumped as the big man slapped the door twice and yelled, “Shut up. Or I’ll give you something to cry about!”

  There was no doubt in Marcus’s young mind that whoever was in pain beyond that metal door would not live to see another day unless he did something about it. It might’ve been stupid to think that he could take on a behemoth of an adult like the man in the black suit, but he also knew that, even though it was stupid, it was the right thing to do.

  ~~*~~

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Francis Ackerman Jr. stepped from the vehicle and sucked in the cool night air. The infamous serial murderer had once doubted he would ever taste free air again, and he had especially never expected to be working for the federal government the next time he did.

  The wind picked up dry gravel and swirled it around them. The air carried a strange, sweet
scent. To Ackerman, it smelled like a crematorium. He knew the smell well. He had burned many people alive during the dark days of another life.

  But now, he had found purpose. A use for his unique talents. Not to mention that he felt propelled by divine purpose to show the demons of society that redemption was within reach. If not in body, certainly in spirit.

  Emily Morgan, his counselor and babysitter, said, “Remember, you’re not allowed to touch him.”

  “That doesn’t sound like much fun. No touching. It’s like an Amish courtship.”

  “I’m serious. You cross the line, and you’ll be back in a cell by the end of the day. Or they may just decide to explode that chip in your neck.”

  Ackerman rubbed the base of his skull at the thought.

  He was relatively certain that he could find a way around the machinations of the Department of Justice and the CIA, who had supplied the technology. There wasn’t a security system in the world that couldn’t be bypassed by a determined mind. And his mind had always served him well. Still, he was in custody because he chose to be, because this was where he belonged. For now, at least.

  “Fine,” he said, “I’ll play nice. But what if he tries to get frisky? I would be honor bound to protect you.”

  “I can protect myself. Stick close to me. And since when do you have any honor? What is it you always say? ‘Losing is just an excuse for not cheating hard enough?’”

  Ackerman laughed. “Yes, but my father also told me to always keep my word. I promised to protect you, no matter what, and I promised my brother not to kill anyone without permission.”

  “Who made you promise to protect me?”

  “No one made me. It was just a promise I required of myself. And I’ve always felt that promises you make with yourself are the worst kind to break.”

  Once upon a time, Ackerman had tortured and killed Emily’s husband and endangered the lives of herself and her child. Emily even carried a scar across her forehead from the encounter, which she covered with her hair as best she could. That seemed like a lifetime ago now. Another life in another world. At the time, he had been wandering with no purpose through a darkness without borders. But the light had found him, and the journey had changed him.