I had the sudden impulse to turn around and head back to Conway and our home. Seth and I could hole up in our house and no one would ever know about him. We could spend every minute together without fear. I almost got off at the next exit and reversed course when I heard a song coming from the back, one that Seth had made up to the tune of one of his favorite lullabies: Are You Sleeping, Brother John?
Going to the moozem, going to the moozem, gonna see airplanes, gonna see airplanes, rockets and space ships, rockets and space ships … gonna have big fun, gonna have big fun …
I took my finger off the blinker and hit the gas, zooming past the exit ramp. I couldn’t disappoint him again. Not again, not like this. His short life had been filled with too much disappointment, and most of it was my fault.
We would be careful; we would continue on. I would keep my promise. Besides, they were just rounding up RDIs, weren’t they? Seth was a PDI, even if only by a couple of weeks. He wouldn’t be subject to the Executive order. I tried to tell myself that he wouldn’t, but my own question kept coming back to haunt me. How could they tell the difference?
We drove on for the next few hours. I wanted to cover a lot of ground before we stopped to eat lunch, although Seth had asked for a Martian Burger a couple of times already. I didn’t see another military convoy until we reached the other side of Nashville; this one was at a safe distance from us, way over in the westbound lane.
We stopped at a Martian Burger in Lebanon, Tennessee, per Seth’s request, and then I made an executive decision of my own. I didn’t feel comfortable continuing on a major thoroughfare like Interstate 40. It would take us a little longer, but I decided to take Highway 70, at least until dark. It turned out to be a mistake—a huge one.
The scenery was pretty except for the occasional redneck condo which consisted of a dilapidated mobile home with a sofa and recliner on the front porch for lawn furniture. Every state has them, it just seems that some states are more proud of them than others. Of course, the small towns had their own nostalgic charm that almost made you forget that anything strange or foreboding was going on in the world. That might have been completely possible for a while, to forget your troubles, if not for the lavender sky and yellow clouds that hovered just overhead.
It was nearing dusk when we passed a pristine little cemetery. We hadn’t seen a town in a while, so it seemed as if we were in the middle of nowhere. The ancient rock wall surrounding it made me think of the one I had explored just yesterday when we were looking for Shasta. It reminded me of Miss Chenowith and Shasta. I knew I needed to call her and warn her about what was going on; after all, she has no radio. Her sister might know, but I wasn’t sure if she had contacted her or not. She did not seem to be in any big hurry, but she did seem keen to experience the shock on her sister’s face when she saw her.
Traffic was noticeably sparse. I don’t think we had passed another vehicle in the last 15 minutes. Shortly after we passed the small graveyard, I saw a roadside park with picnic tables. There were no facilities, so thankfully nature wasn’t calling me just yet, but I did need to stretch my legs and I thought this was as good a time as any to give Miss Chenowith a call. The nightly black light display was starting to creep across the sky, only tonight it was much more pronounced as it reflected off a mostly cloudy sky.
I thought about catching a few winks here because I had no intention of staying in a motel or with any relatives of motel employees again, not given the current circumstances. We had maybe eight to ten hours of driving time left, which meant we could be at the museum tomorrow. But I decided against snoozing in this little park. It was somewhat concealed from the road by a group of pine trees but it was still too close, I felt too exposed. We would find someplace more secluded; I had to keep Seth as hidden as possible.
Seth was asleep in the back with Jackson curled up beside him, so I carefully parked and got out, closing the door softly behind me. I took out my cell phone and turned it on. My heart sank for an instant when I saw no bars on my phone, but a second later, two bars grudgingly materialized. Maybe I could get a quick call off before they dropped out again. We were in a rural area, so that was probably as good as it was going to get. I removed the address and phone number from my pocket that Rose had given me at the motel on the day we arrived in Jackson. I entered the number in my phone and hit send as I leaned back against the front bumper. Much to my surprise, the phone was answered on the second ring.
“Yes,” rasped a woman on the other end. It did not sound like Miss Chenowith, but it was. It was the wrong one, though.
“Rose?” I said.
“Yes,” she repeated.
“This is Tommy Pendleton, from the hotel the other night. I …”
“I know who you are Mr. Pendleton,” she interrupted. I was starting to get a bad feeling. At first I thought Rose had been upset about her sister’s change, but her demoralized tone seemed much worse than that.
“Well, may I please speak to Lizzie?”
There was a long pause on the other end of the line.
“She’s not here,” she said, this time with a strong undertone of malice. Before I could respond she cut across me scathingly. “They took her and that … that thing away!”
My heart sank into my stomach like a block of ice. I knew who “they” were. I had seen “them” carting innocent people down the interstate today. I started to tremble with sadness and anger, the poor, sweet woman, but my thoughts turned suddenly to the other part of Rose’s statement.
That thing?
I had to assume she was referring to Shasta. The anger in me started to boil over when I thought of her initial reaction to Seth. I thought she had come around after her interaction with my son, but perhaps she hadn’t. I couldn’t believe her fear and prejudice toward Impals would be enough to turn in her own sister.
“You … you turned them in?” I said loud enough that I woke Seth and Jackson up. “Why?? Why the hell would you do that?”
“You wait one minute, buster!” Rose retorted. “I was not the one who called 911 and reported it this morning!”
I didn’t think it was possible, but my heart sank even lower. Rose had not called and turned them in, it was me. Of course, I didn’t know what was going on this morning. I hadn’t heard the radio reports yet. I thought I was doing the right thing. Maybe my intentions had been honorable, but that did not make me feel any less guilty. Obviously, emergency services were under orders to advise the military of any RDIs immediately. The terrible efficiency of this Executive order was even more horrifying than I had imagined. I found it hard to speak because I felt like someone had just knocked the wind out of me. I managed to rasp six short words.
“I’m sorry, Rose. I’m terribly sorry.”
There was a long silence that made me wonder if I had just uttered my apology to a disconnected line. Finally, after several long moments, I heard Rose start to cry. I waited patiently until I heard her sobs calm a little and then repeated my apology.
“I’m very sorry. Is there anything I can do?”
She took a couple of shuddering breaths before replying.
“Where did they take her?” she said, still sounding accusatory.
“I don’t know, Rose,” I said. “I wish I did. I thought I was doing the right thing … I’m so sorry.”
“Are you coming to the funeral?” she asked in almost a civil tone.
I hadn’t even thought of a funeral; my thinking had changed so much in the past few days. Of course there would be a funeral, Miss Chenowith’s remains deserved that dignity, but it was hard to think of a funeral when the person was still here. But she was gone now, for how long I do not know. She and her beloved Shasta would be held indefinitely, or at least until the phenomenon ended.
I looked up and saw Seth watching me from the back window. He smiled and waved, then fell back with a laugh as Jackson jumped on him. It may be the
right thing to do, but I knew I couldn’t go back. I grieved for what had happened to my friends but I couldn’t turn back. My time with Seth, however much may be left, was far too precious. Guilt and sorrow twisted my guts savagely.
“I’m sorry, I won’t be able to … can you give me the name and number of the funeral home so I …” but Rose cut me off before I could finish.
“Don’t bother, I’ll sign the guest book for you!” And with that wounding remark, she hung up.
I stood there feeling numb. I didn’t know whether to feel guilty, angry, or just break down and cry.
I didn’t have time to consider my feelings, though. I looked up at Seth. His sweet face was pressed against the window, but instead of his happy playful expression, he wore one of terror. Before this could fully register with me, I felt a white, blinding pain on the back of my head and then the world spun out of control and everything went black.
CHAPTER 20
Hostage
“You’re a beast and a swine and a bloody, bloody thief!”
—William Golding, “The Lord of the Flies”
I don’t know how long I had been unconscious. It was still dark when I came to. A black void seemed to hover directly above me as I lay motionless on my back. It took a moment to realize I was staring at the ceiling of my SUV, the cargo area to be exact. I could tell this because the void was ringed with the crazy black light cloud coverage shining in through the windows semi-circling my head. It was somewhat obscured by the tint in the glass, but was still impressively bizarre.
My head throbbed with the worst headache I have experienced in my entire life. Something stabbed me hard in the back and when I groggily reached back to inspect the source of the pain, I retrieved a Hot Wheels car. My heart jumped as the disorientation instantly dissolved and I remembered where I was. But where was Seth?
I tried to sit up but I felt something tighten on my neck. It didn’t take long to figure out that my neck and my feet had been bound, but bound to what I did not know. The prickly roughness on my neck told me that my captors had used a rope.
The vehicle was moving. I listened to the low drone of the tires on the pavement and watched the slow movement of the luminescent clouds through the windows. Who was driving and where we were headed were as much of a mystery as how I had wound up back here. I was just about to call out when I heard Jackson bark and emit a low growl. This was followed by the sound of clinking metal and a man’s cruel voice.
“I told you to shut up, you damn mutt! One more peep out of you and I’ll toss you out the window!”
There was a sharp clink of metal, followed by a high-pitched yip of pain from Jackson.
“Maybe I’ll just tie him to the bumper like that dog in the Vacation movie, eh Hamm?”
Every muscle in my body tensed with the desire to break free of my bonds from what I heard next.
“Please don’t hurt him!” I heard Seth plead with the man.
Another man spoke; he sounded like he was out of breath as he snorted after almost every word.
“I told both of you to shut up or I’ll tie all three of you to the bumper!” the man wheezed. “Didn’t I tell you not to use our real names, you idiot?”
“You’re right, Ha – I mean, Butch,” the other man corrected himself before he could draw the wheezy man’s wrath again. His tone became noticeably more pleasant when he continued.
“Who’d a thunk we would have hit such a gold mine when we knocked that sap over the head, eh, Butch? This kid’s gonna make us rich, I tell ya!”
The man named Butch, formerly known as Hamm, merely grunted and exhaled loudly.
Seth was okay, at least for the moment, which made me relax a little—but only a little. I didn’t know whether to pretend I was still unconscious or to say something. I could picture Seth sitting up front somewhere trembling with fear. He was afraid not only for himself and Jackson but especially for me. I never thought they could hurt him physically, but after the cry of pain I just heard from Jackson, I wasn’t sure. That scared the hell out of me.
I didn’t think I could just lay back here and do nothing; I had to help my boy. Even if it was just giving him the comfort of knowing I was okay. I tested my bonds one more time. I might be able to work loose, especially since my hands weren’t tied, but it would be a long and arduous process, one I didn’t think I could carry out without drawing unwanted attention. I decided to speak. Seth needed to hear me.
“Where are we going?” I asked as calmly and loudly as I possibly could.
I saw the silhouette of a head appear over the top of the seat. The only features I could see were a long, bushy mane of hair framing a slender face. I saw a metallic flash as his arm swung out and then I felt the unmistakable death-like cold of a pistol barrel pressed under my chin.
“Well, sleeping beauty is awake!” he said.
“Put that gun away, you idiot!” the man named Butch hissed. “If that thing goes off … he’s the only leverage we have with the kid!”
I felt the cold metal slowly withdraw, and then a hard smack on my cheek from the open hand of my captor.
“You keep your mouth shut, too, moron!” he sputtered with a venomous tone. “When I want you to talk, I’ll tell you!”
“Daddy, are you okay?” Seth cried out.
“Yes, buddy, I’m fine!” I answered before I got another hard slap on the cheek.
“I told you to shut up!” he sputtered with such rage I thought his head might explode.
“I don’t want another word out of anyone,” Butch huffed like he had just run a marathon. “One more word and I’m gonna hurt your dad and your dog, do you understand?”
I could hear Seth sobbing. I could not see him, but I could picture him shakily nodding his head in understanding. I knew he was terrified. My heart burned with the desire to tear free of my bonds and use the ropes to summarily strangle the two sadistic scumbags. As crazed as I was, I finally allowed reason to win out. I laid back and shut my eyes, my heart hammering against my ribs like a frightened bird in a cage. My brain pounded against my skull with cruel intent as I thought feverishly for a way out of our predicament.
What the hell did these guys want? They mentioned using me as leverage with Seth, but I had no idea what that could mean. A few minutes later, I found out.
I felt the vehicle pull off the road and stop.
“Showtime!” The man with the gun chortled.
I looked out the back window. The faint outline of a sign could be seen towering over the vehicle. As I strained to read the sign, I turned my head just right so that the phenomenon’s light reflected off the painted letters and I could read the message. It read: Lucky’s Saloon.
“Okay, kid, I want you to go through the door, get everything out of the register, and bring it back out. Oh yeah, and get me a six-pack of Schlitz while you’re at it,” the man with the gun ordered with glee.
“You idiot!” Butch huffed, “I told you he can’t do that! He can go in and get things but he can’t bring it out if it can’t pass through a wall!”
“Huh?” the man with the gun asked with such confusion and stupidity in his voice, it left me little doubt who was the brains of this duo.
Butch let out a long wheeze that sounded like air escaping from the tire of an eighteen-wheeler. When he spoke he was still agitated but he also had a measure of patience in his voice.
“My cousin in the Army told me that they found that these spooks, or whatever the hell they are, can’t pass through iron. Iron affects them the same way it affects us, they can’t pass through it and they can be knocked around with it. That’s how they are catching all these creepy bastards, by slapping iron collars on them.” He laughed cruelly but the laugh quickly turned into a hacking cigarette cough. It sounded like a lung was going to fly out of his mouth any second.
“You okay, Hamm?” the stupid pistol-wield
er asked.
“I told you,” Butch hacked between words, “don’t call me that name!”
“Okay, Butch,” he muttered. “So he can’t pass through the wall if he’s wearing iron collars, eh?”
The man with the pistol did not get a response until Butch’s coughing fit was over.
“You idiot, just let me handle this. He’s gonna go in, get the cash out of the register and pass it to us through the mail slot – in and out with no alarm.” He coughed once and then started to wheeze like an asthmatic, making me think of Seth’s Darth Vader figure, which was probably lying beside or under me.
“All right, kid, come on!” Butch hissed as he opened the door to get out.
The overhead light came on as the stupid sidekick opened his door to get out. He glanced back over the seat at me, displaying what he probably thought was a sufficiently intimidating and sinister smile, but he was so ridiculous looking I would have laughed if the situation had not been so serious.
The man was slender with long greasy blond locks draping razor and pimple stubble cheeks. His ridiculous smile exposed a lifetime of dental neglect. Crowning his unwashed head was a ball cap that looked like it had been buried in a pig pen for a couple of weeks. The dirt and filth almost completely shrouded the logo on the front that professed his undying devotion to his favorite NASCAR driver. The look in his eyes was not one of malice, but instead was reminiscent of that of a deer or squirrel caught in headlights. There seemed to be little going on in the man’s head.
I actually felt a brief moment of sympathy for him. He was obviously acting under the direction of his wheezing friend. He had probably never had an independent thought in his life. My sympathy quickly faded when I heard him slam the door and yell at Seth.
“Come on, you little creep!” he snapped. “Get over to the door!”
I could hear Seth crying as the two men barked orders in hushed but harsh tones.
“Shut that cryin’, you freakin’ creepy spook!” the man named Butch rasped before erupting into a coughing fit. As he sputtered and hacked, the stupid sidekick chimed in.
The Tesla Gate Page 17