The Arx

by Storey, Jay Allan

  “Who are you waiting for?” he said.

  She looked at her hands.

  “Carla De Leon,” he said.

  She turned a bright shade of red as she looked up. “She’s really not a bad person, Frank…”

  “There’s no time. There’s stuff I haven’t told you.”

  He quickly tried to explain the highlights of his investigation: the fight with the first attacker, his investigation into Lawrence Retigo, Ricky Augustus. Rebecca’s hands twisted the cloth napkin in front of her as she listened. She didn’t believe him.

  “Frank… I don’t want any trouble,” she said when he’d finished. “Please, just go.”

  “Look,” he said. “You can’t meet with Carla. Call her, make up an excuse. Come with me for one hour and I’ll explain everything. If you still think I’m nuts and you’re worried about what I’ll do we can go someplace where there’s lots of people.”

  She glanced out the window and cringed.

  “What?” Frank said.

  He peered down at the sidewalk below. A handsome middle-aged woman strode purposefully toward the front doors. Inexplicably she paused and looked up. She seemed to be staring right at him. The afternoon sun glinted off her sunglasses. Frank’s heart skipped a beat.

  He turned back to Rebecca.

  “Let’s go,” he said.

  She looked frightened. “Please leave, Frank,” she said. “I appreciate your concern but I’m fine.”

  “It’s not a request,” he said.

  He reached down, grabbed her left elbow, and tried to lift her to her feet.

  “Let go of me!” she yelled.

  The entire restaurant went silent. Everyone was staring at them.

  Several waiters headed in their direction and a couple of men rose from their tables. Frank hauled Rebecca up and started to drag her toward the back door. A bartender at the back picked up the phone.

  With his free hand, Frank pulled Carson’s gun from under his jacket and waved it around the room, finally pointing it at the guy with the phone. Screams and gasps erupted all around them.

  “Put it down!” he yelled at the bartender. The man did as he was told.

  “Everybody stay where you are!” Frank yelled. “Don’t move and you won’t get hurt.”

  The waiters froze and the men that had stood sat back down. “Let me go, Frank,” Rebecca sobbed, tears running down her cheeks. “This isn’t the way to deal with your problems.”

  They reached the back door and he dragged her down the stairs to the parking lot. She struggled as he pushed her inside through the driver’s door of his rental and jumped in beside her. He started the car and took off, tearing out of the lot with his tires squealing.

  He glanced in the rear-view mirror. A crowd was gathered at the top of the stairs, watching. At the front was the figure of Carla De Leon. She was putting her cell phone to her ear.

  “We’re gonna have to ditch this car,” he said. He shoved the gun in his belt.

  “What the hell are you doing Frank?” Rebecca screamed.

  “Look, I’m sorry,” he said. “I know it seems crazy but everything I’ve been telling you is true, and I can prove it.”

  Her eyes drifted to the gun.

  “Remember the guy that was supposed to be dead? Carson?” he said. “I met him. He’s alive – or at least he was…”

  Frank reached into his jacket pocket. Rebecca jumped and pulled away. He pulled out one of Carson’s flash drives.

  “It’s all here,” he said, holding it up. “Just let me show you. Give me half an hour. If you still don’t believe me I promise I’ll let you go.”

  She stared at him.

  “The cops are going to be after us,” he said. “They’ll have the license plate number.”

  She looked at the flash drive. Finally her shoulders dropped and she seemed to relax. “Pull the car into the alley there,” she said, pointing to their right. “We can go somewhere on foot.”

  Frank smiled. He parked the car in a dark space behind a wall where it would take time to find. He grabbed Carson’s suitcase from the trunk and they got out and walked. Frank kept an eye on Rebecca, but she didn’t make any attempt to get away. Police sirens approached in the distance.

  They repeated his earlier trick, jumping on the first bus that came along, just to get out of the area. The bus was almost empty. They took a seat at the back, away from any other passengers, and Frank started from the beginning. Rebecca’s eyes widened as he told her about Carson and his analysis of Carla De Leon. He could see that she thought what he was saying had a ring of truth.

  He hauled Carson’s notebook from the suitcase, plugged in and accessed the flashdrive, and handed the computer to Rebecca.

  “Take a look at it,” he said. “That’s all I ask.”

  Her fists clenched in front of her as she read. She seemed to collapse from the inside, and sat with her head in her hands. Frank’s throat tightened; her image reminded him of Gloria when Ralphie had first disappeared.

  “So we’re both as good as dead,” she said, shaking. The enormity of their situation had finally struck her.

  “Not necessarily,” he said, putting a hand on her shoulder and trying to sound more confident than he felt.

  “Where can we go?” she asked. “They’ll be all over the city.”

  “Then maybe we better leave the city,” he said.

  Sanctuary

  Rebecca took a long look at Frank as they trudged along the path to the door of Carson’s cabin. They’d jumped on another bus, transferred to one that ran out to the ferry terminal, and caught the ferry to Galiano. Frank rented a pair of mopeds, and they caught a charter boat to Parker Island.

  On the bus, he’d told her about Stocker’s death, about Carson, all that the researcher had done, supposedly in the name of humanity, and how Carson had finally ended his life. Frank plodded along the path to Carson’s shack like he was on his way to a funeral. He obviously didn’t want to be there, but it was the only place he could think of where they might be safe, at least for a while.

  She sensed the pressure building inside him. His fists were clenched as he walked. He was unsteady on his feet and stared at the ground.

  “Where are they buried?” she asked, as they approached.

  Frank inclined his head toward the back. She imagined the old man’s ghost, or the ghost of the murdered child, Jimmy, hovering over them like death.

  “How long do you think we’ll have to stay here?” she asked.

  “You’ll be here for at least a couple of days,” Frank answered. “I gotta go back – not tonight, tomorrow.”

  “You’re kidding,” she said, her eyes wide. “You’re already connected to a murder. Now you can add weapons and kidnapping. Every cop in the city will be after you. Not to mention that you’re being hunted by a gang of psychopathic killers. Have you got a death wish?”

  “It’s our only hope. I gotta convince the cops that the Arx are for real, and that what I’ve been saying is the truth. That’s the only way, according to Ricky Augustus. That’s not going to be easy. But this time I’ll have the documentation to back the story up.”

  Frank unlocked the door and they walked in. His hands shook as he fished in his shirt pocket for his cigarettes. His knees gave way. He staggered over and flopped into a nearby chair.

  “What’s wrong?” Rebecca asked.

  “Nothing,” he answered. “I’m fine; just tired.”

  “Frank,” she said, nodding at his shaking hands. “You’re on the edge. I’m surprised you’ve held it together this long. I’m worried that you’re heading for another breakdown.”

  He tilted back his head and stared at the ceiling. “Come on, Rebecca, not now…”

  He leaned forward again and tried to pull a cigarette from the pack. His hands shook so badly he dropped the pack on the floor.

  “Do you want me to do that?” Rebecca said. He scowled at her, but made no move to get the cigarettes. He hung his head and di
dn’t move for several seconds. Finally he looked up. “Maybe we better just continue where we left off.”

  “What?”

  Frank's hands hardened into fists. He stared up at her.

  “With Mastico?” she said.

  “If it’ll help, I’ve got to.”

  “You sure?” She put a hand on his shoulder.

  He nodded resignedly. She pulled a chair over and sat across from him.

  “I’d like to try something,” she said. “I’ll count from one to one hundred. As I count, I want you to think back on what happened – starting from where we left off last time. You can describe it to me, or not, whichever feels most comfortable.

  “By the time I get to fifty, you’ll be re-living the worst part of it. By one hundred, it’ll all be over and you’ll be relaxed. Does that sound okay?”

  Frank nodded.

  “You got knocked on the head,” she said. “You woke up. Mastico stepped out and started walking towards you. You went for your gun.”

  Frank stared at a spot on the wall behind her.

  “But it wasn’t just you there, was it,” she said.

  He shuddered.

  “There was someone else,” she said.

  Frank shut his eyes tight. His body contorted like it was being tugged by invisible cords.

  “One,” Rebecca said.

  Frank waited a few seconds, trembling and breathing heavily.

  “Two.”

  His clenched fists vibrated on the arms of his chair.

  “He said I was crazy to even think about going,” he finally began, “but I had no choice – a woman’s life was at stake.”

  “Three,” Rebecca said.

  “We argued for more than half an hour. He insisted I wear a wire. He’d stay in the squad car a few blocks away and call for backup if I got into trouble. I should’ve said no. I wanted him to see what a hero I was."

  “Who?” Rebecca said.

  Frank's face tightened. Beads of sweat rose on his forehead. He scanned around him, his eyes wild, reliving a moment of horror. He gulped as if he was about to be sick.

  “What’s happening, Frank?” she said.

  "I’m in the alley. There’s the stench of rotting garbage. It’s dark, but I can see Mastico walking towards me in the shadows. There’s a finger of light across his face. He’s smiling.”

  Rebecca continued counting.

  “We’re going to play the crazy game,” Frank shook as he imitated Mastico’s sing-song voice. “I’ve got a present for you.”

  “Twenty-three.”

  “I try to grab for my gun,” Frank’s eyes widened, “but I freeze. I’m terrified. I see the full moon – a blood-red moon – reflected in the water.”

  “The moon?” Rebecca said. “Are you sure?”

  “Thirty-five,” she continued. “Who came with you, Frank?”

  “Mastico’s swinging something in his right hand,” Frank said. “Something big. He tosses it right at my chest. I catch it – it’s instinctive, like a reflex reaction.”

  “Forty,” Rebecca said.

  Frank jumped up and kicked back his chair. It crashed to the floor behind him. His body bent back like he was being swept up in a raging tornado. Rebecca stood and stepped away. Frank straightened. His gaze traveled down his chest. His eyes came to rest on a non-existent object between his outstretched hands.

  “Forty-three,” Rebecca said.

  “It’s hairy and slimy,” Frank said, his voice trembling, hands shaking. “I drop it on the ground.”

  He pulled his hands apart. His eyes bulged from his head as he watched the horrifying object fall.

  “I still can’t see what it is. It rolls into the light.”

  His gaze followed the invisible object rolling away from him. He stared at the floor, his face twisted into a mask of horror. “It’s not the moon…”

  “What?” Rebecca gasped. She stopped counting. “Maybe that’s enough, Frank.”

  “His eyes are staring at me,” Frank said, his lower lip trembling.

  “Who?”

  “He’s smiling, almost like he didn’t mind his head being separated from his body.”

  “Oh God – who, Frank!”

  “Randall,” Frank whispered. “It’s my partner, Jeff Randall.”

  He started to shake. His hands were frozen like claws in front of him. “There’s ragged edges of red meat and gristle around the cut that severed his neck,” Frank’s face twisted and his voice broke, “and a white tip of bone that had been the top of his spine.”

  Rebecca recoiled in horror. She willed herself to stay calm. “Frank, it’s time to snap out of it.”

  “Mastico keeps coming,” Frank said, looking up. “The lenses of his glasses glow in the light, like he’s got x-ray eyes. I try again for the gun. My hand’s slippery with Randall’s blood. I almost drop it.”

  Rebecca fought back tears. “Frank, that’s enough for now.”

  “Stop or I’ll shoot,” Frank shouted, lifting a shaking right hand like he was holding a gun.

  Rebecca moved forward, but she didn’t dare touch him.

  “That’s what I’m counting on,” Frank’s voice altered, becoming Mastico’s chilling sing-song.

  Frank’s body shook violently as he fought to squeeze the invisible trigger. He wrapped both hands around the non-existent gun, raised his arms straight in front of him, and pretended to fire.

  “Please Frank!” Rebecca said. She could do nothing but watch.

  “I’m dying! I’m dying!” Frank screamed in Mastico’s voice, choking with laughter. “You’re killing me!”

  Frank pumped six or seven shots into his invisible enemy. His body kicked back with each shot. Drenched in sweat, screaming and shaking, he moved forward and pumped three more shots into the ground at his feet. Finally, he collapsed on the floor.

  ***

  When Frank woke he was lying with his head cradled in Rebecca’s arms. He looked up at her. She was crying.

  “Oh my God, Frank,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I’m so sorry.”

  They lay like that for several minutes, her arms wrapped around him, his head on her breast, his panicked breath gradually subsiding.

  That night Frank and Rebecca lay in bed in each other’s arms. He stole a glance at her, her hair cascading over the pillow, her gray eyes dreamy, lost in the afterglow of lovemaking. Something felt different. A switch had flipped in his brain, channeling an emotion he hadn’t felt in more than a year. It had been so long that at first he didn’t quite recognize what he was feeling.

  Finally it came to him. It was hope. For the first time since the experience with Mastico he could see a way out of his waking nightmare.

  Where only days ago he’d felt like his life was over, suddenly he dared to dream that it might be just beginning. A part of him still believed he didn’t deserve her. Maybe that was true, he thought, but for now he was just going to accept the treasure he’d been granted and hope he could hold onto it a while longer.

  “That Lohengrin guy, from the opera,” he said to her. “You said the princess had to promise never to ask him about his past.”

  She rolled onto one elbow. “What brought this on?”

  “Just thinking.”

  “Well, yes, that’s right,” she said.

  “Let me guess,” Frank smiled. “She ended up asking him, didn’t she.”

  “Yep.”

  “Just couldn’t leave it alone.”

  “That’s right.”

  “So what happened?”

  “When she finally asked him?”

  Frank nodded.

  Her face went dark. “It’s very sad. He disappeared and she never saw him again.”

  Frank was silent.

  “That’s not going to happen with us, is it?” she said.

  “Well… I don’t know…” Frank said, joking.

  He looked into her eyes. He was surprised to find something like fear behind them.

  “No, that’
s not going to happen with us,” he said, wrapping an arm around her. “I’m not going anywhere – unless you want me to.”

  “Right now, I want you to stay with me forever,” she said sleepily, and nuzzled his chest.

  Back Into the Fire

  The wind blew through Frank’s hair as he leaned on the railing of the Queen of Nanaimo steaming back to Vancouver. Dozens of gulls circled the ship’s wake, gliding in the updrafts generated by its motion. The ferry sailed past rocky islands blanketed with green and the touches of gold marking the coming fall.

  The events of the past few weeks had occupied his mind to such an extent that he hadn’t had time to think about his life, his condition, where he was going, or even where he was. He patted his shirt pocket for his cigarettes, and remembered he’d run out. Normally a wave of panic would have overwhelmed him and he would have run down to the shop for more. Today, right now, he realized he didn’t really care.

  He breathed the sea air deep into his lungs and for a moment relaxed. The late summer wind on the water had an edge of biting cold. That was good. He was alive; the wind was being kind enough to remind him. For this brief moment at least, he felt like the Frank Langer of old, the confident Frank Langer, the Frank Langer who knew what to do in any situation and never questioned his own judgment, the Frank Langer who maybe deserved some kind of respect and happiness.

  Then there was his new relationship with Rebecca. His initial attraction had built steadily from the moment he first saw her. But after last night it had soared to a level he’d never experienced before. In what seemed like an instant she had been transformed from de-facto therapist, co-conspirator, and investigative partner to lover, and the most precious thing in his life. In fact, she had become his reason for living.

  It was dangerous to leave her at the cabin. He’d caught a break going there the first time, but the Arx would track it down eventually. Problem was, there was really nowhere any safer, and he didn’t dare bring her along. After Carson’s revelations he realized how incredibly lucky he was to still be alive. His luck couldn’t hold out much longer.

  The good news was that between his feet rested a suitcase full of information that could persuade his former colleagues that there was something worth investigating. He prayed that Reid and the others at the squad still had enough respect for him to take his claims seriously. The trick would be to get the information to them, and to stay alive long enough for them to follow it up.