by Aiden James
“Jeremy, help!!!”
His hand slid down Marshall’s pants, leaving him hanging down into the chasm with a tenuous grip around his grandfather’s right ankle.
“Jackie, hold on!!”
Jeremy bent down in the darkness to where Marshall’s feet were.
“Hurry, Jeremy, I’m slipping!!”
“Damn it Jack, hang on!!” cried Marshall.
“Jackie, I’m almost there!!”
Jeremy grabbed Jack’s fingers with one hand and reached around Marshall’s legs with the other to get a grip on Jack’s wrist as well. After almost knocking their grandfather into the chasm, Jeremy managed to pull Jack into the tunnel with Marshall’s help. At the same time, the rumbling subsided. Perhaps the chasm only extended to the perimeter of the basement, but it didn’t matter. As soon as Jack joined his brother and grandfather they scrambled toward the tunnel’s end, where the storage shed hopefully still sat.
The rumbling soon resumed, and its crescendo quickly became a deafening roar. The narrow path created by Dr. Quard-e-Lazim’s men began to collapse behind them, as if the earth was even more anxious to close the recent wound inflicted upon it.
“Ah-h-h shit!” Jeremy hissed. “Here we go again!”
Much harder to run, they stumbled through musty darkness as tree roots and the tunnel’s uneven walls scraped against their arms and legs. Marshall’s breaths grew more and more labored, and Jack feared he would suffer a heart attack at any moment.
They reached the ladder that led to the storage shed just as the earthen walls surrounding them crumbled. Jeremy hurried to climb it and opened the trap door above the tunnel. He pulled Marshall with him into the shed while Jack pushed from below. But then the wooden ladder splintered from the earth’s assault, throwing Jack down into the passageway.
Desperately clawing his way back up the ladder, he made it most of the way through the trap door’s opening. But his legs became stuck in the constricting earth beneath the door, where the increasing pressure threatened to crush every bone below his knees.
Jeremy ran over to the tool bench and grabbed a pair of shovels while Jack waited, grimacing in pain. Working frantically with Marshall’s help, Jeremy managed to free Jack and pull him out of the tunnel before his legs and feet were seriously hurt. But the earth continued its assault, sending spider-like cracks across the shed’s cement floor. The walls lurched forward, the building on the verge of collapse.
Then it stopped.
The three huddled near the tunnel’s mouth, holding shovels above their heads guardedly, until certain the ordeal was over. The early morning sunlight trickled through the window’s broken glass and shredded curtains left previously by the Israeli assassins’ gunfire two days prior.
Jeremy ventured to the window, peering through it. It seemed safe enough to step outside. The alley empty, only a handful of morning birds were present, sitting on a nearby telephone pole, chirping tentative. No other people were present, which surprised them in light of the quake that surely rocked the neighborhood.
They moved around the corner of the shed, carefully moving under the police clearance tape that cordoned off access to the rear of Dr. Quard-e-Lazim’s property, until they reached a point where they could clearly see the backyard and rear of the house. At first, only an immense cloud of dust was visible, obscuring all else. Their initial reaction was one of panic, fearing the beleaguered Children of Elohim had escaped the angel’s roundup below the earth’s surface. But once the dust cleared they realized this wasn’t so, and stood together in awed silence.
The beautiful estate, including the enormous trees and other landscape, was gone. Even the police cruisers and FBI sedans were nowhere to be found. What remained was an uneven lot with large clumps of soil spread across its entire width and length. As if the magnificent estate at 1016 South Queens Court had never existed.
Part IX
To Cameril
The Kenney brothers and their grandfather, Marshall Edwards, stared in amazement at the scene before them until the last dust particles settled and the neighbors whose homes were closest to 1016 South Queens Court grew brave enough to investigate what happened. Necessary to leave the neighborhood as soon as possible, the three discretely moved back inside the storage shed hoping no one had identified them.
“It won’t be long before the cops come looking for their buddies,” said Jeremy quietly, once back inside the building and Jack had closed the side door.
After testing the shed’s floor to make sure it wouldn’t collapse beneath them, he moved over to the Cadillac Escalade. He reached in his pocket for something, and smiled.
“Lucky for us, the police decided to leave the truck here instead of impounding it. And, since Francisco gave me back Bo Cochran’s wallet, I’ve got the Escalade’s keys I took from Oscar’s desk the other night. All of the cash is still here too.”
“Really?” said Jack, pleased they wouldn’t have to hot-wire the vehicle. “When did Francisco do that?”
“Right before we left the castle on our way back home.”
Marshall chuckled softly while listening to his grandsons.
“It sounds like we’ve got a lot of catching up to do,” he said. “But, in the meantime, why in the hell are we still standing around here? Time’s wasting, boys!”
He moved over to the driver’s side of the truck and got there just before Jeremy did.
“Hey, Grandpa, I’m driving!”
“What, are you nuts, son?” said Marshall. “This town’s been swarming with more cops over the past few days than I ever remember seeing before, and all of them are on the lookout for you two. Hopefully, no one in this neighborhood recognized ya’ll. Otherwise, I’m afraid we won’t even make it out of the alley. That’s why it makes a hell of a lot more sense for me to drive, since I’m not a wanted fugitive just yet.”
Excitement danced in his eyes, and Jeremy and Jack could tell he enjoyed the idea of being on the run with them.
“All right,” said Jeremy, chuckling. “You’ve made a valid point, Grandpa. At least for now.”
He unlocked the truck and gave Marshall the keys.
“Let’s get in, boys!”
They climbed into the Cadillac, pleased that Dr. Quard-e-Lazim had outfitted the vehicle with every available luxury General Motors could offer. Jack and Jeremy took their grandfather’s advice to lie down in the backseats, despite the Escalade’s dark tinted windows, with the understanding this arrangement would last until safely beyond Tuscaloosa.
With half a tank of gas, Marshall pulled the truck out of the shed and headed down the alley in the same direction the Essenes took two days earlier. Meanwhile, emergency sirens drew closer from somewhere behind them. Marshall took several side streets to get out of the campus area, and soon they headed south on Highway 43, one of the few highways left open after the previous day’s evacuation. Surprisingly, they didn’t encounter a single blockade along the way. Once the Escalade passed the towns of Fosters, Ralph, and Knoxville, he announced it was safe enough to sit up in their seats.
The road very familiar, they hadn’t traveled this route for almost eight years, after Genovene destroyed their home in Carlsdale and forced them to relocate north to Tuscaloosa. A feeling of nostalgia swept over Jack as they neared Demopolis, made worse by the damage left by the storm system that had moved through the area the night before. Numerous trees split apart or completely uprooted near the roadside, the pavement bore uneven cracks across its width, as if the unearthly arc had briefly touched down before lifting back up during its hostile advance on Tuscaloosa. In addition, a number of homes and small businesses along either side of the highway had been leveled.
“You’re not planning for us to hide out around here are you, Grandpa?” worried Jack, as Marshall slowed the vehicle to navigate around a gaping hole in the road’s surface.
“Oh, no, son—absolutely not!”
He laughed, perhaps for his grandson thinking he would be that foolish to believe their old sto
mping grounds provided any refuge. Especially now, given the amount of money out there for his grandsons’ heads.
“I’ve got some place far away in mind for us!”
“Where would that be?” asked Jeremy, climbing into the front passenger seat. “Ya’ll don’t mind if I check out the sound system, do you? Or, are you hankering to hear the latest bullshit that’s gone on this week?”
“Our destination will remain a secret for now,” Marshall advised. “But, I promise not to keep either of you in the dark too long.”
He glanced over at Jeremy, smiling at him and then at Jack through the rearview mirror.
“Hold off on your music, Jeremy, for just a while. I’m thinking it’d be wise to hear the latest news first.”
Jeremy surfed through faded signals and screeching static until he found a national syndicate station in Birmingham. After waiting through a popular hip-hop tune and a series of local commercials, the disc jockey and his comic cohort discussed the latest regional and national news. The hot topic was the growing uproar over reported photographs taken last night throughout Alabama—including those from major network media teams along Skyline Boulevard in Tuscaloosa. The ‘row of golden towers’ clearly depicted in the photos had already spawned widespread speculation ranging from some unknown ‘natural’ phenomena to the usual UFO and alien theories that came up every time something in the sky didn’t look quite right.
Jack and Jeremy snickered irreverently when the radio comic commented that perhaps the ‘Rapture’ had come, leaving just the sinners behind. Marshall grimaced at the joke on account of his Southern Baptist heritage. The news coverage moved on to the latest information on the search for the brothers, now believed to have committed ‘another gruesome multiple homicide’. Earlier that morning, authorities discovered the five murdered police officers and FBI agents at their grandfather’s residence.
The report went on to say Mr. Edwards may now be traveling with his grandsons, possibly against his will, and that these ‘highly dangerous fugitives’ might be holding several other agents hostage as well. The report concluded by stating the police and FBI have expanded their search to include all of the southeastern states again, though the possibility the brothers might still be in the Tuscaloosa area hadn’t been ruled out.
Jack sighed, smiling wanly. The list of atrocities attributed to him and Jeremy had reached such ridiculous proportions. Meanwhile, Jeremy and Marshall looked at each other in disbelief; not only from the latest news but also on account of the supposed manhunt they somehow missed. So far, their closest contact with any police were the sirens they heard in Tuscaloosa, and a lone Alabama state trooper they saw heading north on Highway 43. But another run-in with the authorities could happen soon.
“Boys, before we go much further we better get some gas, and I really need decent clothes,” said Marshall. “Once we get to where I’m taking you, I believe we’ll be safe for a while. I can probably afford to put this first purchase on my American Express card, but anything beyond that will likely come back to haunt us.”
“Hey, Grandpa, save your card for some other time,” Jeremy told him as he pulled out Bo Cochran’s wallet again from his pants’ front pocket. He counted up the available cash and removed a fifty-dollar bill, handing it to Marshall. “We’ve still got seven hundred and twenty-three dollars without that fifty. So we’re okay for now as far as money’s concerned.”
“I heard you mention the wallet earlier to Jack,” said Marshall. “This is part of the same money you told me about the other night, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, it is.”
“Well...keep an eye out for a place to stop,” he told him. “I definitely need a shirt and some shoes. A baseball cap and some cheap dark sunglasses would go a long way toward making me feel a bit more comfortable, too.”
He pushed the Escalade past Demopolis until they reached a Shell service station just north of Old Spring Hill. The station had a food mart that carried a few tourist garments. Before filling the truck with gas, Marshall borrowed Jack’s pullover, though a size too small, along with Jeremy’s scorched shoes. Dressed horribly, he stepped inside the food mart.
After picking up a t-shirt, cap, and sunglasses, in addition to a pair of rubber sandals, he used the fifty to pay for it all. He had just enough left over to pick up a Coke and a Snickers bar for each of them, to temporarily appease their hunger until they could enjoy some real food. In the food mart and service station for nearly ten minutes, as far as he could tell, no one paid much attention to his presence. More importantly, he didn’t see anyone he recognized.
When he returned to the vehicle, the brothers were antsy to get back on the road, since already 7:40 a.m. that Saturday morning. Once he confirmed Jeremy’s suspicion they were headed toward the Gulf, he ordered enough breakfast items to satisfy them all from a drive-in restaurant next to the gas station. Another fifty disappeared from Bo Cochran’s wallet and the trio was set for the rest of their trip south.
Marshall encouraged them to talk about their incredible misadventure, having them start from when they were first abducted from Tuscaloosa. Most of the update came from Jack, and Jeremy filled in details his younger brother skipped over. For the next hour the two went back and forth with each other as they described the incredible events that began the previous Monday afternoon.
For them, the telling of all that had taken place, including the truth behind Deshawn’s terrible murder, seemed to have a cathartic affect. When finished, they relaxed in their seats from exhaustion, and soon dozed off. Marshall encouraged them to rest, advising he would awaken them once they reached their appointed stopping point for the day. He thanked them for their candid description of what happened, as it cleared up many of the questions worrying him the past week.
When the Escalade reached the outskirts of Mobile, Marshall turned off the Highway and onto Bay Bridge Road. He followed this road onto Blakely Island, where he stopped at a Kmart located near the middle of the island.
“Sorry to wake ya’ll up, but now’s the time for me to go get some clothes and supplies.”
His grandsons stretched and yawned as he spoke to them, much like the young boys who made frequent trips with him many years ago. Both Jack and Jeremy peered out into the department store’s parking lot, noticing the palm trees throughout the area.
“So, we’re close to the beach, huh?” said Jeremy, rubbing his eyes still red from sleep deprivation, and the fire and smoke assault received that morning.
At present, the scar that ran from the corner of Jeremy’s left eye down to his jaw remained invisible. Once he finished stretching and sat up in his seat, he removed the wallet full of cash from his pants and handed the remaining $673.00 to Marshall.
“Thanks again, son. I promise to have your money back to you within the hour,” Marshall told him. “Both of you haven’t grown at all since Christmas, I take it. So, I should still know your clothes sizes. Your shoe sizes are twelve for Jack and twelve and a half for you, Jeremy, if I remember correctly. Is that still correct?”
“It is,” said Jack
“You better make mine a thirteen, Grandpa,” said Jeremy. “My feet are a little swollen right now, and the last pair of shoes I bought were snugger than I like anyway.”
“Thirteen it is,” confirmed Marshall. “Anything in particular you want me to try to get or avoid?”
“As long as it’s comfortable, I don’t care,” said Jack, the easiest to please.
“Just make sure you don’t buy any socks that come up to our knees,” offered Jeremy, not so easy to satisfy.
Jack rolled his eyes in disdain.
“Oh, what the hell, Grandpa. Get whatever suits you and I’ll be fine with it,” he said, chuckling at Jack’s reaction.
Marshall changed out of Jack’s pullover and put on the t-shirt he recently purchased. He made sure the baseball cap and sunglasses were on straight, almost forgetting to remove the cap’s insignia tag before stepping out of the truck. Standing in the
parking lot, Jack and Jeremy decided he looked inconspicuous enough. Khakis and sandals weren’t the best fashion statement, but the dark t-shirt and rubber sandals would probably help him blend in among the tourists that weren’t dressed much better. Besides, this was Kmart, not Macy’s.
Shortly after 10:30 a.m. Marshall returned, pushing a cart overflowing with clothes.
“‘Anything look suspicious to either of you while I was in there?” he asked, while his grandsons helped him quickly move everything into the truck.
“Not that I could tell,” said Jeremy, while Jack nodded in agreement.
“Well, that’s good,” said Marshall. “I felt a little paranoid in the store, since folks seemed to notice me more this time. That’s not to say they weren’t simply curious as to why an old fart like me is wearing a t-shirt that says ‘My Gater’s bigger than yours!’”
He laughed and showed the back of his shirt to them, where a cartoon depiction of an Alabama football player with a hefty bulge in his pants held a baby alligator dressed in a Florida football uniform by the neck, with a look of terror on its face.
“I suppose I should’ve taken a better look when I bought it earlier. But since I was in a hurry I only checked the size and the color that looked okay with my pants!”
“So, where do we go from here?” asked Jeremy, grinning at the irony in his modest grandfather’s attire. “Are you planning to take a boat someplace?”
His smugness said he didn’t really believe this was the plan.
“Actually, I am,” said Marshall, who glanced into the backseat where Jack sat. “That’s our next stop, as long as our luck in avoiding the police and FBI holds out.”
“Are you serious?” asked Jack, surprised as much as Jeremy by this revelation.
“As a frigging heart attack, son!”
“But there’s still oil globs and shit out there, right?”
“Yes,” Marshall agreed. “But you’d be surprised at how much has been cleaned up…at least where we’re headed.” He grinned impishly as he drove out of the parking lot and back onto Bay Bridge Road.