The Last Dreamer

by Nicholas Erik

  Devin stared at the hand, unsure whether to run, scream or invite them in.

  Anya backed into the corner as they strode into the room.

  She gritted her teeth, recognizing the younger man from the general store. Him. She watched his gait. No limp. He looked up and flashed her a little smirk of recognition. Her hand slipped into her pocket, fishing for a knife that wasn’t there, and the man’s smirk turned into the slightest hint of fear and shame.

  At least Devin didn’t shake the older man’s hand. Didn’t say anything.

  “Nice to see you again,” Boyd said, calling across the room to Anya.

  “I don’t think she likes you,” Devin said.

  “He speaks,” Boyd said.

  “I do.”

  “Enough,” the Reverend said. “How are Mark Stanton and the team at Chimera? It’s been twenty years.”

  “You know him?” Devin said.

  “Once upon a time,” the Reverend said. “But that’s history.”

  “You want to tell me what this is all about?” Devin said.

  “You’re special,” Boyd said, and circled around him like a wolf stalking its prey, “ain’t you heard?”

  “So people keep telling me.” Devin shrugged. “I don’t see it.”

  In the corner, Anya’s mind raced. They were going to take him away again. She’d come all this way, worked for weeks to find him, and he’d be gone.

  Anya wasn’t sure why she was so upset about it, but her chest ached and her heart slammed against her chest. She kept pulling her fingers in and out of her pocket, but they kept coming up empty.

  “You can see things that others can’t, son,” the Reverend said. “You’re a gift from God.”

  “If you say so,” Devin said.

  “Come with us,” the Reverend said. “Help us heal this injured world.”

  “Sure. Sounds like a deal.”

  “The world is hurting. And you deny the Lord’s call? The call for light? To inspire others?”

  “I don’t know what you think I am,” Devin said. “But I can’t do any of that.”

  The Reverend let loose a tired sigh and sat down on the plush leather loveseat in the center of the suite. He wrung his large, tired hands together, as if the end of this journey and search was proving more exhausting than the many preceding years.

  Anya edged over and joined the circle.

  “Stay over there,” Boyd said. “I don’t want no more knives in my leg.”

  She gave him the finger. Boyd shrugged and sat down next to Samuel.

  The Reverend gestured for Devin to sit.

  “I’ll stand,” Devin said.

  “You should sit.”

  Devin stared for a moment, then sat down. He caught eyes Anya’s gaze as he did. She shook her head. No one was giving Devin real choices these days.

  “Don’t look so bothered,” the Reverend said. “We can be good friends, you know.”

  “You got some way of showing it,” Devin said.

  “Join us.”

  “I’d rather not.”

  “But you can change the world,” the Reverend said. “Can’t you see?”

  “Whatever you say.”

  “Mark Stanton—Doctor Stanton—just wants to use you.”

  “Let me guess,” Devin said. “You want to help me. Or be partners.”

  “Yes.”

  “And if I say no?”

  “Then this gets more difficult.” The Reverend nodded towards Boyd, who took out a cell phone and dialed a number. It rang three times before some faceless goon of Samuel’s picked it up.

  “Yeah.”

  “Put her on,” Boyd said. He pressed a button, and the call went on speaker. A scuffle erupted in the background as the girl tried to get free. A man told her to get on the damn phone, and finally the clamoring stopped.

  “Hello?” the girl said. “Devin? Are you there?” Anya watched as Devin’s face went ashen white.

  “Sarah? Sarah Parsons?” His eyes darted from the phone to the Reverend.

  “Dev—” But the Reverend ended the call before Sarah could say anything else. The old man clasped his hands over his lap, like he’d just gotten a straight flush on the river.

  “Get her back on,” Devin said, and stood up, advancing towards the Reverend, “call her back.”

  “You can talk to her in person, if you’d like,” the Reverend said. “And your brother, too. Tommy’s missed you.”

  Devin sank into the cushion, a dazed expression spreading across his face.

  “Devin—” Anya tried to weigh-in on the conversation, but Devin cut her off.

  “No,” he said. “This is all your fault. All this shit. The suite, these assholes. If you hadn’t shown up, my life would be the same.”

  She caught her breath and held in whatever she was going to say, whatever she was going to do.

  Devin roamed around the room; no one else moved. After a few minutes, he stopped.

  “I’ll go. But you let them both go. Tommy and Sarah.”

  “I knew you were the one we were looking for,” the Reverend said. He walked over to Devin with a hand extended. “Welcome to the Lionhearted.”

  Devin stared at his hand like it was radioactive. Then he gave it a weak shake.

  “Shall we?” the Reverend said. Devin followed him to the door, but Boyd stayed behind.

  “She doesn’t get touched either,” Devin said, but didn’t look back at Anya. “Freakshow here goes out the door first.”

  “That’s fine.” The Reverend whistled at Boyd, like he was calling off a hound. Boyd shuffled out the door and towards the elevator. “Bye now,” the Reverend said, and winked at Anya as the door closed. “Be a good girl. And do say hello to Catalina.”

  The penthouse suite was empty, silent, until fifteen minutes later a waiter showed up with Devin’s room service.

  “He’s not here,” Anya said, and slammed the door.

  It was all her fault.

  He’d said it was all her fault.

  She made a call.

  “Why did you lie to me,” Anya said. “You lied to me.”

  “Come now, child—” Miss Ena said, but Anya hung up the phone before she could tell any more lies.

  35 | Yin and Yang

  If Chimera’s Headquarters and lodgings were the height of luxury and a symbol of the cutting edge, then the Lionhearted’s enclave was the opposite. Rustic, secluded, unassuming.

  After almost a day of driving—a trip that ran across Arizona and then all the way to Northern California—Devin had gotten a glimpse of his new digs.

  It’d been a long silent ride with Tommy in the backseat.

  The SUV rolled up to a wooden gate standing over twelve feet high, fashioned from thick, heavy logs. The fence stretched all the way around the four acre compound. Inside, there were six buildings, all crafted in the same style: three bunkhouses that stretched on for about a hundred feet in a Viking longhouse kind of way, a quaint, small central building with two stories, and two massive barns that stretched sixty or seventy feet into the sky, towering above the walls like two massive wooden sentries.

  These buildings all stood on the far northwest corner of the compound. Stretching from the gated entrance in the south, the rest of the land was covered in workers and huge marijuana plants. The smell came in through the car’s vents, permeated the air, assaulted Devin’s senses.

  His eyes widened, but he didn’t say anything.

  “Surprised?” The Reverend said. He pointed out the driver’s side. “See, over there, in the western fields?”

  Devin nodded.

  “Those are your Indicas. Kind of stubby, short, fat. Your Afghan Kush, your Dream Berry. Those are popular. Anyway, we get the kids to work those. Easier to reach.”

  Devin stared at children as young as seven, eight years old pruning the plants, sniffing the buds and removing weeds—the bad kind—from the field.

  “And then, out here,” The Reverend said, and pointed out his ow
n window, “in the eastern fields, you have your Sativas.”

  Devin looked at the workers climbing up tall wooden platforms on wheels to reach the tall plants. Most of the plants were higher than the fence that contained them, higher than every building on the property besides the barns.

  “They get a little bigger.” He grinned. “But people like their Purple Haze, so we work out the logistics.”

  Devin rubbed his forehead. He’d been forced to visit a compound filled with zealot pot farmers, help them in whatever crazy vision quest this Reverend Samuel was leading them on.

  The car stopped, and Devin got out.

  The smell of skunk had been strong in the car, but when he got out, it just about knocked him over. If there was any other smell present on the compound, it was overpowered by the medicinal grade marijuana carpeting the premises.

  “You get used to it,” the Reverend said. “I’ll take you to your quarters. They’re private.”

  Devin spun around one last time before following the Reverend into the small main building. He caught a quick glimpse of Tommy’s face over his shoulder, but Devin still had nothing to say.

  No one even stopped what they were doing to see who the newcomer was.

  Just snip, cut, plant, repeat.

  If Devin didn’t know better, the good Reverend had “converted” these people for the sole purpose of cheap, dependable slave labor.

  He kept that to himself as he climbed the short stack of stairs that led to his private quarters.

  36 | Reunion

  By private quarters, the Reverend Samuel has meant that Devin got to share his bedroom with only one other person.

  Which happened to be none other than the good Reverend himself.

  At least the place had running water. But Devin wasn’t crazy about sleeping six feet from a cult leader who all but kidnapped him. It was like being stuck with an awful roommate in the college dorms, except Devin imagined that the Reverend trumped even the most horrible eighteen year-old by a significant margin.

  Devin sat down on the hard mattress and examined the austere room.

  Two wood-frame beds, mattresses clad in thin gray blankets, with one window between the two beds, overlooking the three other living quarters, and a door that led to a closet-sized bathroom with a tiny shower.

  No artwork, no knick-knacks, no clothing.

  “What do you think?”

  “Feels like home,” Devin said. He couldn’t remember what that felt like, but he was pretty confident that, whatever the hell it was, it was nothing like this wooden asylum.

  “You can thank Boyd,” the Reverend said. “He gave up his bed for you. He sacrificed.”

  “What a guy,” Devin said.

  Boyd glared, but held his tongue. The three men were all situated within a few feet of each other, given the cramped conditions. Devin didn’t care if Boyd took a swing at him. It didn’t matter. Besides, he was the chosen one, the seer.

  Boyd had been usurped as the Golden Child.

  Delightful.

  “You will come to love it here,” the Reverend said, his tone waxing nostalgic, poetic, as he stared out the dusty window, “as the others have.”

  “What the hell did you do to my brother?”

  “Although I suppose there will be an adjustment period. That is normal.”

  “And Sarah. I want to see her.”

  “At first, everyone is like you. Homesick. Lovesick. Worldsick. But soon, they immerse their hands in the soil, feel the earth between their fingers, see what care and dedication can bring into this life. And then they are saved.”

  Devin wanted to say saved from what, but instead he just said, “We’ll see.”

  “That is true,” the Reverend said with a short laugh, “we shall indeed see. Something you are no doubt quite good at.” He turned around and extended a hand towards Devin. “But that can come later. Your companions await.”

  Devin accepted the man’s hand, seeing no other option, and went back down the stairs, through the main room that looked like a one-room rural school, outside into the endless green fields, and then into one of the barns.

  Hundreds of hooks hung from the ceilings, and a winding staircase circled the edges of the structure all the way to its apex.

  In here, too, people were working, moving finished crops in wheelbarrows to a station on the ground floor, others taking fresh, wet plants up to empty hooks to dry.

  Across from the fulfillment center—that was all Devin could think to call the table with an industrial vacuum sealer and scale sitting next to stacks of hundreds of cardboard boxes—there was a small room with a locked door.

  “When we have an overflow of inventory, we keep it in here,” the Reverend said. “Right now, we don’t have that problem.”

  He pressed a notch on his belt buckle, twisted the silver metal, and popped out a key. Slid it into the lock and opened the dark room.

  “Well,” the Reverend said, “go on, now.”

  Boyd and Samuel waited outside as Devin peered into the room, then stepped in.

  He half-expected for the door to swing shut behind him, for the two men to dance and crow that they had captured him, and could now do whatever they wanted, deals be damned.

  But none of that happened. Devin pulled the door shut himself, gentle, deliberate, as his eyes tracked a dim candle in the far corner, the wick almost at its end.

  He took a single step towards it, then said, “Hello?”

  “Dev?” A familiar voice, seated by the sound of its trajectory, came from near the candle. “That you?”

  Devin heard the rustle of boots against the dirt floor, and saw Tommy’s profile step into the shadows.

  “You okay?” Tommy’s words were slurred just a bit by the chunk of tobacco in his lower jaw.

  Devin thought about rushing out of the room, but it looked like the Reverend wanted him to make up with his brother. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”

  The brothers stood there, in the dim dark, not saying anything, not knowing what to say.

  “They treating you okay?” Devin said.

  “It’s not like that,” Tommy said. “I work for them.”

  Devin about knew as much, but hadn’t wanted to believe it until he’d heard the words from his own brother’s mouth. They still twisted like a white-hot fire poker straight through his gut.

  “Why?”

  “Mom and Dad left a lot of debt,” he said. “And these guys could help pay.”

  “To spy on me?” The words came out with a steel-tempered edge that surprised Devin.

  “To keep you safe from Chimera,” Tommy said, but it didn’t sound like even he was buying that. “I’d never let anything happen to you, Dev. You gotta know that.”

  “Sure,” Devin said, and the single word said more than a million could.

  “D-D-Devin?”

  Devin wheeled around and peered into the inky black, where the candle’s light couldn’t reach. But he knew who it was.

  “Jesus Christ, Tommy, you’re in here guarding her?”

  “Better me than some of these other guys.”

  Devin walked forward, blind, into the dark, and stepped on her bare foot. Sarah yelped, but it was almost a cry of relief.

  “What the hell happened? You all right?”

  “It’s not my broken one. I’m okay,” Sarah said. But her voice suggested the exact opposite—that she was anything but okay.

  “Sorry,” Devin said. “Why’d they bring you here?”

  “Mike—Mike before he died, said if I had any problems, I needed to come and see you. Call you. And I tried, but it was disconnected, and I went to your house…”

  Her voice trailed off into muffled sobs. Devin reached out and held her. She collapsed into his chest, soaking his shirt with tears.

  “I don’t understand,” she said, each word coming out many seconds after the last, “I don’t understand why he took me.”

  “Who took you?”

  “Your brother,” she sai
d. “I went inside, called out your name, and he reached over and grabbed me.”

  “Tommy?”

  “It’s true, Dev,” Tommy said.

  “Fuck me. Why?”

  “Samuel said, anyone looking for you, coming by the house, if it seemed like they know something, bring ‘em to him. So I did,” Tommy said.

  “Just like that.”

  “I was already in the doghouse. I needed to get out.”

  “For me, right?” Devin said.

  Tommy had nothing else to say. Devin heard him kick back the chair, which knocked over the candle, extinguishing the little light in the room. Tommy cussed and the door swung open, exposing the inventory closet in a brief flash of light. He came back a moment later and lit a kerosene lantern.

  Devin almost took a step back at the person shaking before him.

  Nothing like the put-together, stunning and beautiful girl who wouldn’t talk to him in the warehouse remained. Her mascara covered everything but her eyes, one of her legs had a bulky cast on it, and her arms were wrapped in gauze bandages.

  Even then, she was pretty, but not in the in your face rich girl, conspicuous spending type of way that Devin had been attracted to in a fleeting manner.

  This seemed more real, more genuine. Like she was an actual person, instead of a caricature. And it only took a run-in with drug-running loons to do that.

  “Here, sit down,” Devin said, and hooked an arm around her waist. She leaned into it, like she was glad to have the help, glad to touch another human being who wasn’t a psychopath. Sometimes that’s all someone needs to feel a little better.

  “These are the terms,” Devin said after exiting the small room. “My brother, he’s done.”

  “We can do that,” Samuel said. “He’s fulfilled his purpose.”

  “And he’s safe. You leave him alone.”

  “You have my word.”

  “And the girl, you let her loose.”

  “That we can’t do.”

  “Those are the terms,” Devin said.

  The Reverend kicked his boots through the dried leaves scattered about the barn’s floor. Then he cracked a smile.

  “Would you do that in my position?”

  “I would never be in your position,” Devin said.