Surrender

by J. S. Bailey

  Officer Jergens scribbled something else on the pad. Officer Dodgson consulted a wristwatch, and Allison had the sudden feeling she was wasting their time. “I’m sorry I don’t remember more,” she said. “It all happened so fast. Wait a minute.” She played the attacker’s face through her mind once more and said, “He had a scar.”

  Both officers waited for her to elaborate.

  “On his face,” she went on. “Left cheek, I think. Maybe three inches long? It looked old.”

  Officer Jergens began to scribble more fiercely. “How was it situated on his face?” she asked.

  “Sort of diagonal. It was thin, like from a knife or something. That’s really all I remember.”

  Officer Dodgson opened a folder Allison hadn’t realized he’d been holding and withdrew an eight-by-ten photograph of Ashley’s bedroom wall. “Do these words mean anything to you?” he asked.

  Allison’s stomach made an acrobatic flip. In red, dripping letters, someone had scrawled the words “Surrender Servant or all will die” on the wall. “Is that…blood?”

  “It’s your blood.”

  “Oh, God.” Allison fought the urge to vomit. Surrender Servant or all will die? What did that even mean? Something to do with Bobby, but she couldn’t exactly tell the police about the kind of things Phil’s young friend got himself into.

  “What did he mean by ‘Servant’?” Officer Dodgson asked. “He capitalized it.”

  “I—I don’t know. He was a crazy person. It probably doesn’t mean anything.”

  “It clearly means something to him.”

  “Good luck figuring it out. I hope you catch him.” Allison closed her eyes. She needed to rest awhile—all this talking taxed her energy. Oh, where had Phil gone? She needed to talk to him about that bloody message.

  The officers took that as their cue to leave her alone, and once they were gone, Dominic slipped back into the room, his face awash with concern. “Nobody seems to know where Phil is. His friend Randy just showed up. I don’t mean to alarm you, but he says that…oh, what the heck. I’ll just send him in.”

  Thirty seconds later, a gray-faced Randy took a seat in the chair Officer Jergens had occupied minutes earlier. “You’re looking good,” he said, his tone flat.

  She shrugged. “I’m sure I’ve looked better. Now where is Phil?”

  Randy stared at her with hazel eyes. “I don’t know. He took Ashley to our house last night and then left after she fell asleep. He told us to look after her until he got back, but he still hadn’t returned when we got up this morning.”

  “And you didn’t ask him where he was going?”

  “You know me. I try not to be too nosy if I can help it.”

  “Where’s Ashley now?”

  “With Lupe. We both took the day off work, for reasons. Ashley keeps asking where Phil is. How do you tell a kid their dad has gone missing?”

  “I’m sure there’s a logical reason for it.”

  “No offense, but Phil didn’t seem too logical last night. He looked like a man on a mission.”

  “That doesn’t sound like Phil at all.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  Allison put a hand on her forehead. “Oh, Phil, please tell me you didn’t do something stupid.”

  PHIL’S HEAD throbbed like he had a terrible hangover, not that he’d know from first-hand experience.

  He tried to move and found that he could not. It felt like rope bound his wrists to something. Apparently Vance had reclaimed his pair of glasses, because beyond a foot or two in front of him, Phil could barely see a thing. It was sort of dim in this place, the only light being a faint glow somewhere in the distance. He didn’t feel too cold at the moment, which meant that hypothermia had set in once more. If he got out of this one, he’d have to ask Allison if she’d be willing to relocate to someplace less frigid, like Mexico or Cuba.

  For a few minutes he wondered why Vance had put him in the cave after trying to warm him up in the cottage, then realized that Vance was toying with him like a cat playing with a rodent it wanted for dinner. Vance, not Thane’s parents, had been the one to stow him in the cave in the first place, and then wanted to let Phil think he had a chance of returning home, only to take it all away again.

  Such a friendly man.

  Something moved in front of him. Phil tugged on his restraints, but they bound him too tightly for him to slip free.

  The “something” stopped before him, and for the first time he was grateful for his diminished vision. The being seemed neither human nor animal and, oddly enough, it seemed as though the colors of his surroundings had all been reversed upon its arrival.

  He had a fairly good guess of what it was.

  “Awake again, I see,” it said in a voice both languid and melodic. “Lucky you.”

  Phil started to squint out of force of habit, then reminded himself he didn’t really want to see his companion. “What did you do with Vance? The real Vance.”

  A soft laugh emanated from the being. “Vance is a fiction. He never existed.”

  “But why? What’s the point?”

  Phil thought he saw the thing shrug. “Why not?” it asked.

  Gritting his teeth, Phil said, “You’re not going to let me go, are you?”

  “I already said you would have been free if you’d minded your own business, but no, you insisted on finding this cave again, so I trapped you inside of it like I was trapped so long ago. I let most people free. It’s better if they don’t know I exist.”

  Phil hated to ask, but the words came out of his mouth before he could censor himself. “What are you going to do with me?”

  “I’m not sure yet. I’ll figure something out, though. I always do. In the meantime I’m going to keep you here so you don’t get into any more trouble. I didn’t expect you to crawl away the first time I put you in here, so I thought tying you up might help. I hope you enjoy your stay.”

  “YOU THINK the man who attacked me is the person Bobby was supposed to be cleansing?” Allison asked Randy, who had opted to stay with her since Phil remained absent.

  “Phil and I were talking about it last night. Ashley said the man was blond. Bradley is blond.”

  “So are a billion other people. Does Bradley have a scar on his cheek?”

  Randy’s eyes narrowed. “Not that I noticed, but I didn’t pay too much attention to what he looked like.”

  “When did you see him?”

  “It doesn’t matter. I’ll ask Frankie so we can find out for sure; he was there when Bobby was trying to cleanse Bradley.” Randy pulled out his phone, tapped in a number, and said, “Frankie? It’s Randy. Allison and I would like to ask you some things about Bradley. I’m putting you on speaker.”

  He set the phone on the small table. “Allison, I pray you’re feeling somewhat better today,” Frankie said in a clipped tone. “Now what is it you need to know?”

  “I remember what the man who attacked me looked like. I just want to know if it’s the man Bobby was helping at the church.”

  “Go on.”

  “He was blond and about normal height and weight, and had a narrow face.”

  “That does sound like Bradley, though I’d say he’s a little thinner than average.”

  “And he had a long scar on his left cheek.”

  Silence came through Randy’s phone as loudly as if Frankie had been shouting.

  “Are you still there?” Allison asked.

  “I remember no scar. That’s not something I’m likely to overlook.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I spent hours with him the other night,” Frankie said. “I’m sure.”

  BRADLEY HURRIED through the cold, keeping out of sight of the road, dreading what might have happened if the priest had shown up at the Barkley woman’s house while he was still there. He’d hidden inside a shed for maybe a half an hour before moving onward, only then realizing how hungry he felt. Was it normal for the dead to hunger? He wouldn’t know; this was still a
new experience for him.

  He’d been walking for about fifteen minutes now, staying along fences and behind dead shrubs, when the sound of sirens filled the air.

  He halted and poked his head over a brown hedgerow just in time to see a cavalcade of law enforcement vehicles roar by in the direction of Ellen Barkley’s house. His empty stomach twisted into a knot. It was probably just a coincidence that the cop cars were going that way. Yeah, that was it. A coincidence.

  He hugged his arms against his chest and trudged onward with no destination in mind, knowing only that he needed to find more secure shelter, and maybe a bite to eat.

  “YOU’RE CERTAIN the shooter had a scar on his face,” the tall officer said to Ellen, who had been brought down to the police station with Terence for questioning.

  Ellen crumpled a tissue in her fingers and nodded. “I don’t remember seeing it the first time I saw him, but as soon as he’d shot Preston, he stared straight into the bathroom at us, and it’s the first thing I saw. I thought he’d kill us too, but he just turned and left like Terence and I meant nothing to him.”

  Terence had his arms folded tightly across his chest, and his face had grown so gray he looked like he needed oxygen. “He just wanted to kill the priest,” he said, his voice hollow with shock. “Once he finished, he ran.”

  “Can you think of any other details that might help us determine his identity?”

  Ellen furrowed her brow, trying to think, but her thoughts had scattered in a thousand directions. Preston, her dear childhood friend, was dead, and the only reason he’d been there in the first place was because she’d felt the need to call him. What had she even hoped to accomplish by having him come over? The disturbed young man had been gone for the moment. It seemed almost as if the priest’s arrival had initiated the so-called demoniac’s return.

  What if he really…? Ellen started to think, then shook her head. Demoniacs did not exist, because demons did not exist. The only evil things in the world were flesh and blood people, and they came in no short supply.

  “His name was Bradley,” Ellen said at last. “That’s what Preston called him.”

  “He had on a dark blue jacket,” Terence said.

  Ellen shot him a glance. “No, he didn’t. It was gray.”

  Frustration shone in her husband’s eyes. “It was blue. I remember because it had a rip on the sleeve.”

  “Okay, it was either blue or gray,” the officer said. “Is there anything else?”

  “His forehead was bleeding,” Terence said, looking to the officer. “He may have cut it on some broken glass coming through the window.”

  While Terence continued to provide the man with details, Ellen’s thoughts wandered again. She pictured Bradley as she had seen him when she came home from the store and found him in her living room. He had most definitely been wearing a gray jacket then, but had he been wearing it still when he came up to the bathroom with a gun? She couldn’t really remember, having been too shocked witnessing Preston’s death.

  Ellen settled back in her chair. Maybe Bradley had been wearing two jackets the first time she saw him, and he got too warm and shed the outer layer. It was the only explanation.

  BOBBY AND his friends’ flight landed in Salt Lake City around six o’clock Mountain Time, and despite his increasing fever, he positively brimmed with excitement at the prospect of introducing Kaori to Randy, Phil, and the others. They would be thrilled that he had found someone to help him!

  Bobby fished out his car keys as they made their way to long-term parking, and just as Bobby was about to unlock the car doors, Carly snatched the keys from his hand.

  “Hey!” he said, startled. “What are you doing?”

  “Get in the passenger seat,” she said, opening the driver side door and popping the trunk.

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m taking you to an Urgent Care here. I found the directions while I was in the bathroom a minute ago.”

  “But Carly—”

  “Look, Roland. You’re so hot I could pop a kettle of corn over top of you, and I don’t mean in the sexy way.”

  Bobby blinked, her words making little sense to him. “Popping corn can be sexy?”

  Kaori grabbed him by the elbow. “You should probably get in the car like your friend says. She doesn’t seem the type to take no for an answer.”

  Bobby groaned but obeyed, his head starting to swim.

  He watched out the passenger window with detached interest as the lights of Salt Lake City flashed by. He remembered hanging out with a rock band when he’d lived out here once upon a time. Back then he’d thought of them as a bunch of losers, and they were, but now it didn’t seem the nicest term to describe whom he’d thought of as imperfect friends.

  He wondered where they were now. He hadn’t stayed in touch with them once he’d left for Oregon. Maybe he should have done that from time to time. It’s what a decent human being would have done, but according to his brother Jonas he wasn’t a decent human being at all, so what did it matter?

  He became aware of the car turning into a parking lot. “One Urgent Care coming right up,” Carly said. “Kaori, you and Matt can go do whatever you like while we’re in here. Hopefully we won’t be long.”

  The Urgent Care was situated in a strip mall along with a sandwich shop, a dollar store, a Chinese restaurant, and a piano tuner. He thought the music store where he used to work sat a few blocks from here and wondered if they were still in business.

  Kaori and Matt made their way toward the sandwich shop, and Carly led Bobby through the Urgent Care door like he was some kind of hapless pet that didn’t know where it was supposed to go. He opened his mouth to object to her treatment of him but found he had nothing to say. He really did feel crappy now that they were off the plane. Hopefully this place could patch him right up with some decent medicine and he’d be good to go.

  He was only half aware of filling out his personal information, and even less aware when a nurse in blue scrubs emerged from the hallway to call him back. Bobby stood on wobbly legs and Carly rose with him, but he said, “I can do this on my own.”

  Carly’s jaw stiffened. “Fine then. Have it your way. I’ll be waiting out here.”

  What’s gotten into her? Bobby wondered as he followed the nurse into an exam room.

  Take it easy, the Spirit murmured.

  Bobby muttered, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  The nurse turned her head. “I’m sorry, did you say something?”

  “Just talking out of my head, I guess.” He shivered and took a seat on the exam table, wishing not for the first time that his life could be just a little bit easier.

  “You really think you’ve got it bad?” asked his doppelganger, which appeared by the small exam room counter on which sat bottles of disinfectant and jars containing cotton balls and sterile pads. “You’re such a wimp.”

  Bobby gnashed his teeth together to prevent himself from speaking to the thing that wasn’t really there. He didn’t need a physician to diagnose him with schizophrenia in addition to the Black Death.

  The nurse, whose nametag introduced her as Alice, asked him all the perfunctory questions about his state of health, then took his blood pressure and temperature, the latter of which proved to be 102.5 degrees.

  “I’ve had worse,” Bobby said weakly, thinking of the time in high school when he’d been bedridden with the flu for a week. Come to think of it, he’d felt kind of like this back then, hadn’t he?

  “I’m sure you have,” Alice said with a smile. “Dr. Ortiz will be in to see you shortly.”

  Alice left the room. Bobby’s doppelganger gave its head a hopeless shake. “It’s man-flu, brother,” it said. “You’re too weak to just suck it up and do your job. Maybe if you were a girl like that bitch who hangs out with you, you wouldn’t feel so pathetic.”

  Bobby suspected that if Alice came back into the room at that moment and took his blood pressure a second time, it would have escalated a
few points. “You watch your mouth,” he growled. It occurred to him that his doppelganger was changing. When it had first manifested itself to him, it had been a silent clone, and now it couldn’t seem to keep its mouth shut. He wondered how it would continue to evolve and decided he didn’t quite want to know.

  The doppelganger shrugged and folded its arms as Dr. Ortiz, a fifty-something brunette, walked into the room wearing a smile. “And how are you today, Robert?” she asked, unwinding a stethoscope from around her neck.

  “He needs someone to shoot him and put him out of his misery,” the doppelganger said, but of course the doctor couldn’t hear him.

  Bobby coughed a few times. “Sick,” he croaked.

  “Well, you’ve certainly come to the right place. Now breathe in…”

  While Dr. Ortiz listened to his heartbeat, Bobby’s doppelganger rolled his eyes. “You might think it’s germs that will kill you,” it said, “but that honor lies with Thane.”

  Not if I can help it, Bobby thought.

  His doppelganger disappeared.

  “SO WHAT do you have?” Carly asked when Bobby emerged into the waiting room.

  “The flu. Again.”

  “Remind me to pick up a gas mask while we’re out so I don’t get it, too.”

  “After I pick up my prescription from the drugstore down the street, I’m supposed to stay in bed until I start to get better.”

  “Are you going to do that?”

  “What do you think?”

  They went outside and walked down to the sandwich shop. Kaori and Matt sat at a table just beyond the glass, apparently in deep conversation. Just as Carly reached for the door handle, Kaori’s gaze darted to her left into the open space between two rows of tables, and just as quickly refocused her attention on Matt.

  There was no mistaking the disgust and annoyance in her eyes at whatever she thought she’d seen.

  Ah, so it happens to her, too, thought Bobby as he followed Carly into the shop.