God, she looks beautiful!
They watched him as he reminisced.
“Steve,” said Biker, “don’t say anything yet. This takes a commitment, a full heart. It’s a lot to take in. I know that. I’ve got some other stuff cookin’ that I need to check on. I’ll come back around tomorrow, and we’ll talk more.” Then he stood to leave, surprising all of them with his suddenness.
“Wait,” said Abby, “what about Preacher?”
“Don’t worry about him. S’long as I’m around, he won’t come near you. And I’ll be around, close by. I’ll give you room to breathe, but you need to take some time, do some honest to goodness soul-searchin’ on this one.”
He looked around the table at the foursome. “All of you need to. This here can’t be no solo act we’re talking about.”
He took his sunglasses out of the front pocket of his leather jacket. “Until tomorrow, then.” He smiled at them, turned and walked to the door of the bar.
“¡Adios, Pedro!” he called over his shoulder.
“¡Adios, Señor!”
Biker opened the door and waded into the knot of tourists on the street. As the door closed behind him, it muffled the brightly setting sun and loud noises beyond.
Chapter 36
They left the bar soon after Biker. The first few steps into the bright sunlight of the street sent Steve’s pulse racing once more, as he kept close watch on anyone moving near them. He led them through the street, avoiding alleys and anything that looked to be a tight squeeze, as they moved steadily back to the Carmelita. Martin and Abby followed behind Steve, while Veronica kept a close rear guard. Her hand was in her pocket with a fierce grip on the gun. Biker had told them not to worry, but no one in the group was willing to let down their guard just yet.
Steve entered the lobby first and scouted the corners twice before signaling to the group. The lone clerk at the tiny front desk stared as they passed. They climbed the stairs and went to Veronica and Abby’s room.
“Let me go first,” said Veronica. Steve nodded. She handed Steve her key, took the gun out of her pocket and released the safety. Steve put the key in the lock and turned the handle. He pushed the door open and stepped aside. Veronica held her breath and peeked into the room. When she took a few steps forward, Steve followed. She searched the room, under the beds, the closet and the bathroom.
“It’s clear,” she called into the hallway. Martin and Abby came in, and Abby sat down on the bed.
“Martin,” said Steve. “Why don’t you order us up some room service? I don’t think anybody feels like going out anymore, right?”
“No way,” said Abby. “I think we should stay put.”
“Same here,” said Veronica.
“Okay,” said Steve. “Veronica, how about coming with me next door so I can get our stuff? Martin and I can sack out here on the floor.”
“Good idea,” said Martin. He picked up the room service menu from the desk.
Veronica and Steve walked next door and repeated the search. After the all clear, Steve began gathering his and Martin’s gear. Veronica stripped the beds and wadded the linens together to carry back to her room.
“So,” she said. “What do you think?”
“About Biker?” Steve asked.
“Yeah, Biker, the story, the whole thing.”
Steve shrugged.
“The more I think about it, the more it seems to make sense. No, not make sense. More like, it just seems to fit. It’s like I was working on a puzzle and couldn’t find a piece, and then all of the sudden it’s right there in front of me.”
“Yeah, I get that too,” Veronica said, nodding. “It’s an impossible story, y’know? I mean, I never paid much attention in church. I believe in God, but I never was much for the organized ritual of it all. And I always thought the Bible was this nice book of stories with morals. I never took it literally. I never thought there were actual angels.”
“Do you believe him?” Steve asked, as he gathered pillows and blankets.
“When that preacher comes around, I freak out. I’ve never done that before in my life, and now it’s happened three times in the last three days. It's like a vise around my windpipe. I get all sweaty. I feel my energy draining. I didn’t get that feeling with Biker. Once I calmed down from our run-in with Preacher, I started to feel good listening to Biker. It was like he had, I dunno, a positive vibe or something—made me feel strong and confident, I guess.”
Steve took one last look around the room. “That’s it,” he said. They walked out into the hall, and he shut the door behind them. “Let me ask you something,” he said as they reached Veronica’s room. “I went out on a limb back there, about you shooting Biker. Would you have done it, like I said?”
“If he were a real threat to us? Absolutely. Look, we might have a whole swarm of shit flying around us, but I know that you three are real. Of that, I am sure. If I thought he was gonna hurt us, like the way Preacher hurt Abby back there, I would’ve pumped his ass full of all the lead that gun holds, and then I would’ve kicked him in the nuts, just to be sure.”
“Good to know,” said Steve. He dumped the blankets on the floor and opened the door, gesturing for her to enter first. She dumped the sheets, blankets and pillows in a heap in the corner. Steve put their bags in the floor of the closet and returned to the hallway to retrieve the pillows and blankets.
“Food is on its way,” said Martin. “They said it’d take a few minutes, though. I believe I literally ordered at least one of everything on the menu.”
“Yeah, my bad,” said Abby, lying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “When you all started talking about food, I got majorly hungry, so I put in a few special requests.”
Thirty minutes later, their food arrived. After a safety check, Veronica opened the door for three waiters, each pushing a cart crowded with covered dishes. They pulled the corner desk to the middle of the room and made a makeshift dinner table. They devoured the meal, tired and starving, and barely speaking as they sampled a dozen platters. Forks clinked on the bright ceramic plates, and glasses were filled as they passed a pitcher of chilled juice.
Fifteen minutes later, the foursome had managed to make a significant dent in the piles of tacos, nachos, quesadillas and burritos. They had pushed away from the table and sat, resting and digesting, thoughts straying from the meal before them to the future that lay ahead.
“Now that, my friends,” said Martin, patting his stomach, “was a meal worth sharing.”
“I think I just ate a whole week’s worth of food,” said Abby, gingerly stretching arms above her head.
“There’s no think about it,” said Veronica, smiling at her. “I watched you eating. I don’t understand where you put it all!”
Abby laughed.
Steve was happy to see her eating and joking. Her run-in with Preacher had scared them all. She’d been very subdued, as they had listened to Biker in the bar. Now, she seemed to be bouncing back, at least a little bit, to her former carefree self.
“So, people,” said Steve. “I hate to put any damper on a good meal with friends, but we’ve got some talking to do.”
They were silent, nodding in agreement.
“Biker gave us a whole lot to think about today. If we take him at his word, then it means that we are smack dab in the middle of something we never thought possible. According to Biker, Preacher killed our families. The fact that something with that much capability and hatred is after us is enough to make anybody scared. On the other hand, we also know we’ve got a support system designed to protect us.”
“Yeah, but look how that turned out for those around us!” injected Veronica.
“Yeah. It’s a support system with flaws, no doubt.”
“But his story,” said Martin, “it does make sense. All of what he said seems to fit with the things we’ve already seen and felt—the recurring nightmares with Preacher, the irony of their deaths, the supernatural hold he seems to have over us . . . it al
l fits!”
“It more than fits,” Abby insisted. “It’s the truth. That’s why the doctors couldn’t explain why Zack died the way he did. Preacher had some kind of hold over things and ‘made’ it happen that way; otherwise Zack probably wouldn’t have been killed in the accident. Biker’s telling the truth, Steve. I can just feel it.”
Steve looked at Veronica.
“I can’t argue with what you all are saying,” she said. “I get the same feeling you do. However, I still think this is dangerous ground we’re treading. If he is an angel, a representative of God, how did this happen to us under his protection? Saying ‘Oops, my bad that your mom died’ doesn’t do much to raise my confidence in him.”
“Come on, Veronica,’ said Steve. “Give him a break. He gave a pretty convincing argument today about what he is facing and why he does what he does.”
“I guess even for angels, there are no guarantees in life,” said Martin.
“Fine,” said Veronica. “I’ll accept that. But are you willing to accept that uncertainty going forward? Who knows what he’s got in store for us?”
“What do you mean?” Abby asked.
“Well, think about it,” Veronica said. “Preacher exists. Biker exists. They are polar opposites. Yet it sounds like neither is strong enough to defeat the other, otherwise they’d have obliterated each other by now. Biker is supposed to keep us safe, and he didn’t do a great job of it on his own. So, I am betting that next he’s going to tell us that we have to do it for ourselves.”
“You mean like how to defend ourselves against Preacher?” Steve asked.
Veronica shrugged. “Maybe,” she said. “Or maybe telling us how we’re going to help him defeat Preacher.”
“We can’t,” Abby said. Her eyes grew large. “I can’t do that. I can’t be there. I just can’t. I can’t.” Her breathing was rapid and she began to fidget. She thumped her fork on the tablecloth in front of her.
“Calm down, everybody,” said Steve, watching Abby. “We don’t know for sure what’s going to happen next. First things first — do we all agree that we believe Biker’s story?”
“I do,” said Martin.
“Me too,” said Abby.
“Yes,” said Veronica.
“Okay, it’s unanimous then,” Steve summarized.
“Wait,” said Abby. “You didn’t tell us how you felt about him.”
Steve nodded. “I believe him. From the outside, maybe it sounds crazy, but just like you said, it all fits. I think he is sincere about the whole thing. He wants to protect us, but this conflict keeps him on the edge, always trying to outwit a very powerful and cunning enemy. The idea that we’re in the middle of it terrifies me, but that doesn’t change the facts of it.”
“So what next then?” Veronica asked.
Steve shrugged. “I guess the next thing is we catch up with Biker in the morning, and hear him out. There’s no point in jumping to conclusions now. Let’s just find him, tell him that we believe him and hear what he has to say about what’s next. Agreed?”
Abby stared down at the table in front of her, but Steve saw her nod.
“Yes,” said Veronica. “We’ll hear him out.”
Martin had his chair leaning back on two legs, and he was rolling a toothpick around on his tongue. He plucked the toothpick out his mouth and gestured with it to emphasize his words. “Seems to me, that if we believe in him, we’ve got to hear what he has to say.”
Steve nodded. Abby looked pale across the table. “We’re just going to listen to him, okay Abby?”
“Okay. I know. Martin’s right. Let’s hear him out.”
Steve knew her intuition was telling her something she didn’t want to hear. Or maybe she was just scared after her recent scuffle with Preacher.
“Okay, so it’s settled then!” Steve clapped his hands together once. “I don’t know about you guys, but I am beat. I am gonna go next door and grab a shower.”
“By yourself?” Veronica asked.
“Um, yeah. That’s usually how it’s done.”
Veronica cheeks turned a rare shade of red.
“No, you idiot. I mean do you think it’s safe to separate like that?”
“I’ll go over there with him,” said Martin.
“Let’s get these carts outta the way first,” said Steve.
He and Martin rolled the carts out into the hallway and pushed them up against the wall.
“Just keep the door locked and the gun handy,” said Steve, standing in the doorway. “We’ll be back in about fifteen minutes.”
Veronica nodded, locking the door behind them.
Abby slid off the chair and onto the bed, while Veronica rummaged through her bag and pulled out clean clothes.
“He doesn’t smile much, does he?” Abby asked.
“Who? Steve?” Veronica replied. “No, he doesn’t. I am not sure I’ve seen him smile yet. Can’t really blame him though, can you? Couldn’t really blame any of us.”
Abby nodded silently.
“You mind if I jump in the shower?” Veronica asked.
“Nope, help yourself,” said Abby.
“You want to go first?”
“Naw, that’s okay. I need to call my parents anyway—you know, check in and all that hoopla.”
“Okay, I’ll bring this with me,” Veronica said, patting the gun in her side pocket. “Just yell if you need me.”
Abby gave her a tired salute and leaned back on the bed.
Chapter 37
Abby breathed deep and enjoyed the quiet warmth of her surroundings. She heard Veronica start the water in the shower. She could hear muffled voices from Martin’s television next door as she laid back on the pillows, cradling her head in her hands.
In this small space, in this room, surrounded by her traveling companions, she felt safe and comfortable. She felt a peace she hadn’t felt in a long time—since before Zack died. Her typical calm demeanor felt restored. She felt whole.
Why?
Because of Steve, Martin and Veronica? Having some sort of shared bond with them? Because of Biker? Because she finally knew what had happened to Zack on that sideline?
Biker’s voice echoed in her head. Preacher had killed Zack, murdered him. Preacher’s sole purpose on this earth was to make her life hell. She rubbed at the bandage under her shirt. He had burned her, inside and out. She could still imagine his long bony fingers clutching her chest. She could smell his fetid breath in her nostrils. She felt the chill sweep over her as gooseflesh rose on her forearms. It was no wonder he haunted their dreams—he was very good at what he did.
Abby knew they were going to have to face Preacher. It was inevitable. She was part of something much bigger than herself. Being childish about it, or running away from it, was not going to make it go away. She was going to have to pull her own weight. In his message, Zack had told her to be strong. She imagined that this was what he had meant by it.
She sighed, fished her cell phone out of the front pocket of her jeans, and dialed her home phone number.
“Mom?”
“Abby!” Susan’s voice beamed through the phone. “Hey, Sweetie!”
“Hey, Mom.”
“What’s wrong, Honey?”
Abby could imagine her mother’s nervous face at the other end of the phone. She was just two steps from frantic, all the time.
“Nothing, Mom, I’m fine. Just tired, I guess.”
“Well honey, why don’t you come home tonight? We can get your dad to go to the store and get us some mint chocolate chip, and we can curl up and watch an old movie together.”
Abby smiled, “I’d like that Mom. I would. But I can’t. I’ve got to stay here.”
“Honey, I am sure Amber would understand if you came home. You don’t have to spend the whole weekend there.”
“No, I know,” Abby hesitated, “but I need to be here right now. You know how it is, you gotta help friends in need.”
“Ah, Amber having boy troubles again?”
“Yes,” Abby winced at the lie. “Something like that. I am sorry that I can’t explain it all now, but I promise that I will explain it to you when I get back.”
‘Okay, I understand Sweetie. I just wanted to make sure that you’re okay.”
“I’m fine, Mom. I am safe. I am with friends. But it’s important that I stay here for now. I love you and Dad, very, very much, but this is something I must do. Please try not to worry. I have never given you a reason to doubt me, so please trust me on this.”
On Tenterhooks Page 23