Nirvana Effect

by Craig Gehring

Edward started in the direction of the back door but stopped himself. Can’t just leave. Got to see if Cali left me any clues.

  Got to rest. My mind just isn’t functioning.

  He made a quick but thorough check of the house. He was glad he did. In the nightstand drawer, written in Cali’s hand in French: “Corvette had company. I have patients to tend to under the clinic. -C.”

  The hope pushed an elation through Edward’s body that drowned out the exhaustion. Edward stuffed the letter in his pocket and sprinted out of the house back to the Corvette.

  Seacrest wasn’t there.

  56

  “We will go soon to the sea,” said Nockwe to his wife Bri’ley’na. “By the evening we’ll be leaving. Are the children ready?”

  “They are,” she said. She called for them. “Children?”

  They ran outside of the house to join their parents. They had their packs. Nockwe took time to inspect his first sons and daughters. There were four, the oldest of them only six years old. Bri’ley’na had given birth to him when she was only sixteen. He was the strongest, a born leader. Nockwe was very proud of him. The one he loved the most, however, was his younger son. He was almost five, and had been sickly most his life. He was the most loving of his children.

  Nockwe had been blessed by the unseen god with four children from his wife’s four pregnancies. Looking at them lined up before him, shortest to tallest, he could not help but smile. Even amongst the turmoil, there was some small joy to be found.

  “How are my warriors?” asked Nockwe.

  They shouted in unison, “Tendo!” Ready.

  He knelt down in front of them. “My children, Manassa will soon muster the tribe and begin the march. It is a great day for our tribe. We will leave our homeland, but create a new home. I will be very busy with matters of the tribe, so you must be strong and stay close to your mother and do whatever she asks. No matter what happens, follow the directions of your mother.”

  “Yes, father,” they said. “Okay. Okay. Yes, father.”

  “Good.” He stood up and turned away from them for a moment. There were tears in his eyes. Why? He wiped them away and walked into the hut to gather his own pack. It is a great day.

  Bri followed him. “Nockwe,” he heard her say. “What is happening?”

  “The move. It is unexpected.” He looked up at her. His bluff didn’t work. She just looked at him knowingly with her hand to her hip. “Glis. I killed him.”

  “We already discussed this, Nockwe. He was a murderer. You did justice.” She held his hand and guided him to sit with her on their pallet.

  “There is something I didn’t tell you. It is why I can’t let it go. There is something that plays in my mind again and again.”

  “Tell me.”

  I must. It won’t stop unless I do so. “Just before I killed him, the shock on his face…” He paused to gather his words. He shifted her hands back and forth in his. He looked up. “It was the shock and the disappointment of an innocent man.”

  He looked into her eyes. There was no redemption there. He wouldn’t find it there, he knew, but he had hoped somehow just by saying it the ghost would leave him. Her eyes were more like mirrors, no matter how much she might want to soothe him.

  “I have tried to deny it to myself,” he said, “but I know I brought justice to an innocent. I was wrong. Manassa was wrong. It must have been an honest challenge, and I slit his throat.”

  “You did what you thought best for the tribe.”

  “Perhaps I can’t see that, anymore,” said Nockwe.

  She took his face in her hands and made him look at her. “Nockwe. All you see is the tribe. If you cannot see it anymore, there is someone blinding you. Look around you,” she said. She touched his chest. “Look into your heart. You are the eyes, the ears, the heart, the head of this tribe. You are its chieftain. If you do not see, do not hear, do not feel, do not think, your tribe is dead.”

  He considered her words. She had a terrible habit of saying the right thing at exactly the right time. He restrained a smile and shot up out of his sitting position.

  “Where are you going?” she asked.

  “I am going to watch, to hear, to feel, to think. I love you,” said Nockwe.

  “I love you, too,” said Bri’ley’na.

  He walked back to kiss her, then ran to the temple.

  57

  “Seacrest!” muttered Edward under his breath. He pulled the car out of the driveway and idled it in the direction of the doctor’s house. He would give the doctor sixty seconds before he pulled off.

  He could see the back of Seacrest’s house. It was all windows. Light flashed inside as a gun cracked. One of the windowpanes shattered.

  Seacrest burst through the broken window. He held a briefcase in one hand and a gun in the other. He twisted his body backwards in a dead run so he could shoot as he fled.

  “Seacrest!” shouted Edward.

  An Onge crawled through the window after him, but ducked when Seacrest fired. The doctor was a lousy aim.

  “Go! Go! ” shouted Seacrest as he leapt into the back seat of the car. Edward kindly waited until most of Seacrest’s body parts were in the vehicle before roaring away toward the city.

  “What the hell is that?” Edward shouted above the over-revved engine.

  “My briefcase,” said Seacrest. The doctor gasped. “Oh, mother of God, Virgin Mary, Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints…”

  “I hope you’re praying,” said Edward sharply.

  “I hope I am, too, father,” said Seacrest. Edward took his eyes off the road long enough to look in the passenger area behind him. Seacrest sat sideways staring into an empty briefcase.

  “What was in there?” asked Edward.

  It took the doctor a long time to answer. Edward made it half the way into town before getting a reply. He trained the rear view mirror on his passenger.

  Seacrest had no color to his cheeks. He just kept staring down at the briefcase, as though he could will its former contents back into existence if he focused hard enough.

  “Some personal effects,” was Seacrest’s answer at long last.

  Edward slammed the brakes on the car. It skidded to a halt. He twisted around to face Seacrest. His patience was worn thin by the exhaustion and the aching. He could hardly think anymore. He had no idea how he had managed to keep on driving despite his weariness. “Listen! I’m not a cop, I’m a priest. And I’m not even a priest. I’ve never known you until now. After today, I will again not even know you. You have no reason to lie to me. There is no harm I can do to you with the information. But there is a great deal of harm I can do to you for not telling me what I need to know. If that briefcase is empty, then that means the Onge have what was in it. If the Onge have it, then I need to know what it is. You can tell me on friendly terms or on any terms you wish, but you’ve got to tell me.”

  If that briefcase had money, Manassa could use it to make his move. The very idea panicked Edward. Edward had expected it to take more time for Manassa to gather his resources. A sudden infusion of cash could be disastrous. He could move immediately.

  Seacrest climbed into the front passenger seat. “Your Onge are wearing off on you, old boy. Drive. I’ll tell you everything. No need for threats.”

  Edward started the car. “What was in the suitcase?”

  “My insurance,” said Seacrest matter-of-factly.

  “Your what?” Edward’s asked curtly.

  “My insurance. I’ll explain,” said Seacrest.

  “Go on.” He’d better finish before I get to the clinic. The clinic was all Edward could think about. He had to get to the clinic basement before something happened to her.

  Something already has happened to her. They have her. He somehow knew this, and yet he still had to hope and try.

  “I am an exile, my friend.”

  Tell me something I don’t know. “Yes?”

  “I’ll explain,” said Seacrest.

  “You’ve got te
n minutes.” Or less. Edward managed to keep the kph slowly climbing. He was getting more comfortable with the Corvette at high speeds.

  “I’m telling you this because you need to know it to help me get off this island. But if I tell you, you’ve got to tell me the real reason you’re at war with the Onge.”

  “I can’t tell you why. I can tell you how. That’s all you need if you can help me.”

  “Very well. Well, since it doesn’t matter anyway. I don’t have any insurance…I was a doctor in Melbourne. My practice was failing - the economy and so forth. This was more than a decade ago. A punk with a gunshot wound knocked on the back door of my clinic and collapsed in the staff lounge. I took him under treatment, sewed him up, and accepted a couple thousand bucks cash for the job. I started getting backdoor guests every week. Turned out the first kid I treated was the nephew of a very dark name in the city. A man approached me about turning my practice into a night clinic, and eliminating expenses by firing all of my staff.”

  “An offer you couldn’t refuse?” asked Edward.

  “It was an offer, mind you. But I took it. Business slowed a couple years later as this man consolidated his territory in Victoria. No turf wars meant no doctoring. They could no longer justify my fat salary, and I was getting hounded for taxes, so I took a transfer to Sri Lanka and a raise. They had started an operation out here and there was big demand for doctoring. Not to mention that Sri Lanka is more cash-friendly.”

  “How did you end up on this island?”

  “I took too many clients. Once I set up shop in Sri Lanka, I started accepting pay from a couple allied gangs, in addition to my own clan. The local cartel got hostile with us. The main man at the cartel, Liang – well, his son was wounded near my clinic and he knew he could get help there. He was a personal friend of mine. I took him even though relations were strained. He died in my care within minutes. There was no way to stop the bleeding. Liang blamed me, said I let his son die on purpose, and put a price on my head.”

  “What about your…”

  “Gang? My employers?” Seacrest laughed. “Don’t kid. They sought peace with Liang, and came after me, too. I exiled myself to Lisbaad.”

  “Why Lisbaad?”

  “It was a deal we made. Liang controls practically all ships going to and from Lisbaad. He may as well own this island.”

  “Then why aren’t you dead?”

  “The deal is, I live in Lisbaad and never leave. If I leave, Liang kills me. And in return for his consideration, for allowing me to live in this cell, I don’t allow certain photos of him dealing with a known CIA operative to surface amongst his cartel underbosses. My insurance.”

  “And your ex-employer?”

  “Let’s just say that certain photos of white mobsters raping heretofore missing in action yellow women of the cartel would put an end to all the profitable operations they have going here.”

  “Your insurance.” This is far worse than cash in Manassa’s hands. Instead of a bird in the hand, he gets five thousand in the bush. Edward prayed the Onge didn’t know what he had. “How’d you get these?”

  “A lot of money paid to people who didn’t know what they were worth.”

  “Was there any money in the briefcase?” asked Edward.

  “No, just the photos,” he answered.

  “Well, why are they so important to you? If this truce you have is already negotiated, then why does it matter whether you have them there or not?”

  Edward’s question struck a nerve. Seacrest screamed spontaneously, “Because I want off this island! That’s why! I want to renegotiate. I don’t like the deal, for Christ’s sake.” Seacrest sighed. “Sorry.”

  Edward waved.

  “Sorry,” Seacrest repeated. “Anyway, I’m miserable on this island. I’d rather be dead. My ticket out was this briefcase. Now I’ll need to do plan B.”

  “What’s plan B?”

  “Get a friendly ex-priest to smuggle me out on a boat to Sri Lanka and I will in return assist him, in ways that only I can, in his odd battle with the Onge.” His underground connections. Manassa just got a lightyear forward but so did I. “If it’s drugs you’re dealing with, I can help.”

  “You could get off this island without me,” said Edward.

  Seacrest shrugged. “Maybe I can, maybe I can’t. I think my chances are better with your help.”

  “It’s Callista,” said Edward.

  Seacrest shrugged. “I get it, she’s your gal.”

  Edward just watched him.

  “Look,” said Seacrest. “She’s a friend. We can talk. I don’t have many friends. I’ve spent my life running from good guys and running from bad guys and only helping where it pays. I don’t know.”

  “How do I know you won’t start running?”

  Seacrest shrugged.

  I need Seacrest if they’ve taken Cali to the mainland. I’d have no way to find her without him.

  “You could just jet when you hit the mainland, is my point. How can I trust you?” asked Edward.

  Seacrest leaned forward. “What is your first name again, Styles?”

  Edward was taken aback by the abrupt change in tack. “Edward,” he answered

  “Well, Edward, although you are pushy, and have threatened my life on two occasions in less than four hours, I can understand that you are a man on a mission - and the fact still remains that you saved my life. So both you and Callista fall under the friend category. If you help me you will not regret it, Edward.”

  “What kind of help do you need, exactly?”

  “We can burn that bridge when we get there. Nothing too difficult. We need to get back to burning this bridge we’re on right here, though, don’t you think?” asked Seacrest.

  Edward studied the crook’s eyes. Well, if he deserts me on the mainland I won’t be any worse off. The greatest thing he’d learned in his experience with Manassa so far: never trust a human being completely.

  Except Callista. There were some things that ranked over mere survival, Manassa’s philosophical drivel to the contrary. But Edward had no plans of forming a lifelong love with Seacrest. Here was a man who’d survived in the underworld. Every one of his words had ten intentions behind it. The only thing Edward could be sure of was that Seacrest would help him as long as it benefited Seacrest, regardless of whatever words might spew from his mouth to the contrary.

  “Fine. I’ll help you, you help me,” said Edward. Seacrest put out his hand. Edward shook it.

  “Styles,” said Seacrest, acknowledging him with a nod. Yes, I’ll have to watch this one, thought Edward.

  Edward looked behind him. There was a car pulling over the nearest hill. It was the first one he’d seen in a while. Edward started the Corvette down the road. He could feel Callista calling for him.

  58

  Edward felt an awful drop in his stomach when he reached the clinic. The first thing he noticed was its front door swung wide. He braked the Corvette at the curb. Seacrest followed him as he raced inside.

  Edward raced to the back door. He still held out a glimmer of hope that they hadn’t found her, that somehow she was safe. He imagined that he would simply swing open the basement door and take her into his arms.

  When he got to the basement door, he didn’t need to swing it. It was already open.

  He saw that Callista had built up quite a lab beneath her clinic. It had a great deal of equipment and he could see stores of medicine on the walls. No sign of conflict, but he knew the Onge had definitely been here. He knew because there was no Callista, even though he called for her and checked the room three times. No note, either.

  The Onge had her.

  Edward forced himself to play out the scenario in his mind. As tired as he was, he could still make the connections if he willed himself to think.

  Manassa would value Callista because Tomy would tell him he’d seen her with Edward. He would know she was a doctor and try to use her as he planned to use Seacrest. Manassa would suspect a relationship a
s a matter of course. If Manassa discovered her name, however…he had all of Edward’s journals.

  Edward put himself in Manassa’s shoes. What does Manassa want? Manassa wants me dead. He’ll do anything to kill me, at this point. I’m the only threat to him, and a thin one at that.

  Edward shook his head clear. He was too tired, and his thoughts were running together. He really needed someone to talk to, to bounce his ideas off of. He only trusted Cali for that. He’d already had to tell Seacrest too much.

  “I need a safe place to rest,” said Edward.

  “Sure,” said Seacrest. “I know just the spot.”

  “Can you drive?” asked Edward

  “Sure.”

  Edward slammed the door as he got in. “Dammit!”

  “We’ll get her, old boy.”

  “Right. Any idea where they might be keeping her?”

  “You think she was abducted?” asked Seacrest.

  “Yes.”

  “Sure she’s just not out on a stroll or something?”

  “No, they got her, Seacrest. Got it?”

  “Got it…”

  “Any idea where they’d be keeping her?”

  “Not a clue. You’re the Onge expert. The only thing I know about them is that one of them hit me over the head. Everything else I’ve heard from you. But a safe place to rest, we can start there.”

  Edward leaned back as Seacrest drove but refused to close his eyes. In a few minutes, Seacrest pulled up by the inn Edward had used the night before.

  “That’s a no-go. That’s only place in this town I know isn’t safe for me.”

  “Come on, I know it looks rough. But it’s the perfect spot.” joked Seacrest. “Nobody would look for you there.”

  “Right. Let’s go to spot number two. I need to rest.” He yawned. “Wait!” Edward said. Seacrest hit the brakes. “Go! Go!” The Corvette lurched forwards again.

  “Christ, man, what’s your problem!?”

  “The Onge, they’re in the inn. The same car that was at your house, it’s in the parking lot.” Edward looked back. The car was empty. “Park here.” He pointed out an inconspicuous side street. “Let’s go scout them out.” Edward led.