New Birth

by Orrin Jason Bradford

  What if Mel wasn't telling her the truth? What if he'd made it all up just to fool her? What if Sarrah was right about how sick Mel was? That's ridiculous. Alp chastised herself. Mel has no interest in seducing me. Brothers don't do such a thing to their sisters, particularly not at his age. Still, there was a haunting discomfort that Alp could not push out of her mind.

  She'd never felt the presence of the Kindred like Mel had. She'd tried many times. Most nights, she'd fallen asleep trying to make contact, but nothing ever occurred to her. She'd be making the trip purely out of trust in her brother's word.

  "Hell, what am I worried about?" She whispered to herself. Even if there weren't any sisters, and I'm sure there are, but if there weren't, it would still be better to go with Mel than to stay here with Sarrah. Anything would be better than this.

  She finished putting her shoes on and tiptoed into the living room. As she expected, Sarrah sat hunched in her wheelchair facing the fire. Her loud snores confirmed her condition. Alp moved softly to the front door and painstakingly twisted the handle. She opened it about eight inches, stopping just before the squeak she knew would occur if she opened it too far. She squeezed through the crack and closed it gently behind her. She placed each foot carefully, avoiding the loose boards. She was on the last step when she noticed the loose dirt.

  Damn, I thought I cleaned that off. She brushed the dirt off the step with her foot. She started to bend down and dig up the box, and then remembered the decision she had made earlier. She'd let Mel dig the box up, like a buried treasure. He'd enjoy doing it, and she'd enjoy watching him as he opened it to find all the extra money she'd collected.

  She ran around the house to Mel's room and tapped out their signal. Within a few seconds, Mel was at the crack. "Good morning, sis. Looks like a great morning to fly to North Carolina. Whatta ya say?"

  "Sounds perfectly pleasant to me, but first we need to get you out of there."

  "No problem, little sis. I'll be with you in just a minute or two. I just need to make a few adjustments to the lock. Meet me out front."

  Alp returned to the front and quietly snuck up to the window, where she could see the door to the storeroom and also keep an eye on Sarrah. The glow from the fireplace embers cast a strange light on the old lady as well as on the rest of the room. Alp returned her attention to the door. She continued to watch it, becoming more concerned as the time passed that Mel might be having problems. Then she thought she noticed a slight movement near the doorknob. She squinted her eyes to see clearly. Was that smoke coming through the keyhole?

  She continued watching as the area around the keyhole seemed to capture the glow of the fireplace and reflect it back. Then she realized the glow was not a reflection. The metal around the keyhole was turning red, and a wisp of smoke wafted from the hole. Mel was melting the lock. Alp watched in amazement, trying hard to ignore the grip of fear that twisted in her belly.

  After a few more seconds, the glow faded and the door slowly swung open. Alp could just make out the shadowy form of her brother silhouetted in the doorway. A soft gasp slipped from her lips as she thought she saw a bluish glow coming from Mel's eyes, but then, it was gone. He stepped into the living room and paused again, looking at Sarrah. After a moment, he strolled across the room. He's not even trying to be quiet, Alp thought in horror. He wants her to wake up so he can burn her. But Sarrah did not stir from her deep slumber. Alp met him at the door.

  "Good morning, again," Mel said in a natural voice that sounded like a cannon shot echoing through a canyon.

  "Shhhh!" Alp whispered. "Please don't wake her. Let's just get out of here."

  "Okay, sis. Whatever you say," Mel replied in a softer voice. "Got the money?"

  "I put it under the porch steps like you said. I thought I'd let you dig it up." She shut the front door behind her brother.

  "Okay, lead the way."

  They scurried to the porch steps and bent down on their hands and knees. Alp pointed to the spot and Mel started digging with his hands through the soft soil. After digging down about six inches, he looked up at his sister, a confused expression on his face. Alp was checking the front door and didn't notice his concern.

  "How deep did you bury it?" Mel asked.

  "Only a couple of inches," Alp replied returning her attention to the task at hand. "Try a little to the left. It was darker last night than it is now."

  Mel tried again with the same results. Alp joined him under the edge of the steps and dug two or three holes.

  "Okay Alp, good joke, but enough is enough. Where did you stash it?"

  Alp looked up at him, a look of frantic horror on her face. "Right here. I promise. I buried it right here."

  "Did you children lose something down there?" Sarrah's familiar voice asked from the doorway. The twins looked up to find Sarrah standing in the doorway, leaning on the familiar hickory stick. Alp's eyes went straight to the mud stains on Sarrah's smock.

  Marlington

  Lionel pulled the collar of his burgundy windbreaker tighter around his neck. The Marlington airport had to be a good twenty degrees colder than the one they'd left a few hours ago at the Research Triangle. Chunk stepped from behind the lone building he'd been using to shelter himself from the wind to make a phone call, although, he was only in shirtsleeves, he appeared oblivious to the cold wind.

  "It'll take a few minutes for a car to get here. There was a mix up at the sheriff's department. Both cars thought the other one was going to be here. I think we can safely say that we won't get a lot of help from the local authorities."

  Lionel walked over to lean against the building, trying to use it to break the wind. "Did they know anything about this Madame Sarrah?"

  "Yeah, they did. They said she was a real nut. Had a pretty lucrative fortune telling business a few years ago. Conned the rich skiers from out-of-state. Then suddenly, about two and a half years ago, she suddenly replaced her fortune telling signs with 'no trespassing' ones and became a recluse. A real nasty one from what the sheriff said."

  "That would be about the time Flip came through." Lionel's shivering made talking difficult.

  "Yeah, I know. The sheriff told me another interesting thing. Says they've found out she has a couple of young kids that have taken up with her. They don't know much about them, but the sheriff suspects they've been the cause of a lot of mischief on the mountain. All they know for sure about the kids are the names they call each other. The boy's name is Mel and the girl's name is Alp."

  "Damn, I wish they'd get here. I'm going to catch pneumonia." Lionel's chattering teeth threatened to make mincemeat of his tongue. "Could we be so lucky as to find the missing Kindred right there?"

  "Well, the brief description would put the kids at the right age in appearance. They might even be hers. Of course, the sheriff wouldn't think so. He expects them to be the age they look. But, we know better."

  A gray and black patrol car appeared at the end of the dirt road. "It's about time. " Lionel said as he stepped away from the building and waved to draw their attention. What if she doesn't want to release them to our care?"

  "I'm sworn by the federal government of the United States of America to protect this country from subversive agencies. The Kindred falls under that class according to the attorney general's office. We'll simply take them away from her."

  "How did I know you'd say that?" Lionel replied. "A man of heart."

  Chunk stopped in mid-stride to the car, turned around and walked back to Lionel. He looked down at the smaller man, his face only a few inches from Lionel's.

  "You're right, Dr. Adams." He spat out the name, spraying Lionel. "I have a heart for my wife and two kids at home that I haven't seen in almost six months. That's the USA, as far as I'm concerned. That's who I'm protecting. Do I make myself clear?"

  Lionel found it difficult to return the large man's stare. "Yeah Chunk, you do. For the first time, I think I know where you're coming from."

  "Good. Now get in the damned car. We'
re going to have our fortune read."

  Sarrah shuffled out of the doorway and leaned against the porch railing. "You sweet innocent things. You fell for old Sarrah's trick—hook, line, and sinker. You thought I couldn't walk all these months. Well, I couldn't climb that damn tree of yours—that much was for sure. But a little digging around was no problem."

  Alp thought she felt the heat rising off of Mel; he was so angry. "Where's the money, Sarrah?" He forced out through his clenched jaws.

  Sarrah threw her head back and laughed. "Oh, good gracious, you don't really think I'll ever tell you? Oh no, I know what your plan is. I've known all along. It was very considerate of you to start a saving program for me. I would think that it should stay me over quite nicely until I can locate a couple of other ambitious kids that want to learn a trade."

  "That's our money. We worked hard for it." Alp felt her face flush.

  "Of course you did, dear. But that doesn't make it yours. You know what they say, possession is nine-tenths of the law. I've got it; you don't. It's that simple. Now, we may be able to make a deal. You stay and find me two replacements, and I'll see what I can do to send you away with a little to line your pockets."

  "No deals, you fat bitch. Give us our damned money!" Mel screamed as he took a step towards her.

  Sarrah backed away and raised her cane. "Don't you show your temper to me, young man. I'll give you a beating like you've never seen. You've been a disappointment to your mom ever since you came out of me. I won't have you using profanity..."

  She suddenly stopped and stumbled back a couple of feet until her back was against the wall of the cabin. She gripped her chest as though having a heart attack, a look of horror and pain distorting her face.

  "Tell...me...where...the...money...is, you righteous bitch." Mel spat each word out like it had a bad taste.

  "Never," Sarrah gurgled back as she struggled to find the doorway. Mel continued after her, his eyes casting a brilliant blue. Alp watched in disbelief, frozen in her tracks.

  Sarrah fell against the door that gave way to her weight. "Never, never, never..." She kept repeating. With each word, a small wisp of smoke escaped from her lungs. She gained her balance, coming to rest against the large table where she used to give her séances. Mel followed her into the room.

  "Back, damned Satan!" she screamed at him, as she raised the large crystal ball over her head.

  Mel changed his focal point to the clear sphere as it quickly changed to a glowing orb.

  "Argh," Sarrah screamed as the burning ball stuck to the palms of her hands. She tossed the ball in Mel's general direction, but he easily sidestepped it and returned his concentration to Sarrah.

  Alp, who had spied all this from the steps, finally found the strength to move her legs. "No, Mel. Stop!" she cried out as she ran towards him. "You're going to kill her!"

  Mel glanced at his sister for just a moment, and then, kicked the door shut in her face, locking it behind him. Alp kicked and pounded the door, as she heard renewed scuffling from inside. She ran to the window in time to see that Sarrah had taken the brief diversion to counterattack. She struck out at Mel with the hickory stick, aiming to crush his skull. Mel fended off the blows with his shoulder and arms, backing away from her. He circled the wheelchair, placing it between himself and Sarrah. As she charged again, he pushed the chair in her path. The footrests caught Sarrah's ankles and with another scream of pain, she fell to her knees.

  It was the opportunity Mel needed. Again, he focused his power inside Sarrah. She grasped her chest with one hand and reached towards her son with the other, but Mel stayed well outside her reach. "Tell me where the money is," he hissed through his teeth.

  "Burn in hell," Sarrah rasped back.

  "No, you burn in hell!" Mel screamed as his last thread of control snapped. His eyes turned from a soft iridescent blue to brilliant indigo.

  Sarrah's scream turned to gurgling as her chest burst into flames like a canister of napalm. Sparks of flame and flesh sprayed in all directions, splashing Mel with the bloody fragments.

  Alp pounded on the glass panes of the window with bleeding knuckles, tears streaming down her face.

  "No, Mel, no," she repeated over and over. She leaned her forehead against the cold glass and closed her eyes. She let the waves of tears rush over her. Why, why had he done it? Surely there had been another way.

  She stayed in that position for several minutes, until the tears finally subsided. When she raised her eyes, she saw the remains of Sarrah's body lying in the middle of the floor, smoke wafting from her chest. Mel stood at the far end of the room, rummaging through the draws of the china cabinet.

  Alp shuffled over to the door and tapped lightly on it. After a few moments, she heard the lock release. The door gave an eerie creak just at the same place it always had but this time it sounded hollow, like the house itself was dying now that its mistress was dead. Mel did not look at his sister but turned immediately back to his task.

  "Check in her bedroom, Alp. That damned box has got to be around here somewhere." Alp stood in the middle of the room, staring dully at the smoldering body. The acrid odor of burning flesh was so thick in the air that Alp felt a wave of nausea shake her body. To avoid puking, she turned away and headed for the bedroom.

  After several moments, she returned to the living room. Mel had taken the lap blanket from the wheelchair and covered the body. It helped a little, but the smell was still too strong for Alp to handle. She walked out to the porch to catch some fresh air. Mel was just coming out of the barn.

  "Any luck?" he called as he started towards her.

  She shook her head. Mel suddenly stopped in his tracks and looked in the direction of the drive, just as Alp heard the sound of a car bouncing down the road.

  "Shit! It's the sheriff," Mel yelled to her. "Quick, grab the packs and meet me at the treehouse."

  Alp grabbed the two knapsacks from the porch and ran back into the house and through the kitchen to the back door. She'd use the house to mask her escape from them. She paused for a second. Had she stopped and locked the front door to slow them down?

  She returned to the living room to find the door partially open. She hurried over to close it. As she did, she peeped out the crack. The sheriff's car was pulling in front of the barn. There appeared to be three men in it. How could they have found out so fast? The closest neighbors were miles from here, well outside of earshot.

  She slowly closed and bolted the door, hoping none of the men had noticed the motion. She then scurried out the back door, where she found Mel already waiting for her.

  "What did you see?" he asked between breaths.

  "Three men in the car as best as I could tell. One was the sheriff; I didn't recognize the other two, but they weren't in uniform."

  "Let's get out of here. It won't take them long to find the body."

  "What about the money?"

  Mel shook his head. "As much as I hate to, we're going to have to call Sarrah the winner on that one. She gets to take it with her, I guess. Come on. There's more where that came from." He took one of the bags from her. “Anyway, I've got a plan already brewing. Don't worry; it won't be long before we're having a big old family reunion."

  As the patrol car pulled to a stop in front of the barn, Lionel thought they must have made a mistake. Surely no one could be living in this abandoned homestead. But as he opened his door, the mooing of a cow suggested differently. The old house and barn were both in need of a good paint job and some major repairs. As Lionel took in the scene, he noticed signs of recent habitation. The stack of wood against the barn had been recently cut. He could smell the fragrance of wood burning mixed with another odor he couldn't quite place. Although the yard was nothing but weeds, the pathway between the house and barn appeared well traveled.

  "Let's check and see if the old lady is home," the sheriff said. "Now remember, we don't have a warrant to search the place yet. So if she doesn't want us around, we'll have to go back to town and ro
use Judge Baker to issue one."

  "Don't worry, sheriff. It's not my intention to breach Madame Sarrah's civil rights. I just want to ask her a few questions," Chunk answered.

  The three men walked up to the porch. The sheriff knocked on the door and waited. After a few minutes, Lionel walked across the porch and looked in the window.

  "Doesn't look like anyone is home. No fire in the fireplace, although I think I can just make out some embers. Wait a minute—what's that? Sheriff, I think you’d better come look at this."

  The sheriff and Chunk joined him at the window. "Shit, that looks like a body laid out there on the floor." The sheriff said. "So much for warrants."

  They returned to the front door and as expected, found it locked. The sheriff glanced from Chunk to Lionel and back to Chunk. "I'd say from sizing up the situation that this would be your job," he said as he stepped aside to give Chunk a clear shot at the door.

  "It's been a few years since I've had to hammer down a door, but I was pretty fair at it in my time. Let's see if I've lost my touch." Chunk backed up a few steps to the edge of the porch, took aim on the center of the door, and charged. A bank vault couldn't have withstood such an assault. The old oak door didn't stand a chance. It flew open on contact, almost coming off its hinges.

  Lionel and the sheriff stepped into the room behind Chunk. The three of them walked over to the still smoldering body. Chunk walked over and removed the blanket.

  "That's Madame Sarrah," the sheriff verified. "I'd say a bit worse for wear. Looks like someone took a bazooka to her chest."

  Chunk pointed to the floor beside her. "I think that answers any questions we might have wanted to ask." Next to Madame Sarrah, one word was scrawled on the floor in charcoal: "Kindred."