Shadow Seed 1: The Misbegotten

by Richard M. Heredia

  This dismayed me. She had startled me once again. Tirza wasn’t a true part of what the girls and I were forging, and yet, the same sort of protective bonds seemed to be developing within me regardless.

  She looked worn out, or maybe overwhelmed, because events kept steam-rolling her. All the while, she stayed rooted to the events of the other night, grounded in the mire of her parents’ death. She was stuck in the swamp of her sisters’ horrific mutation and subsequent euthanization. I could tell our progress as a group entity was beginning to swamp her sensibilities. She was an old fashion believer in many things, most of them rooted in the dogma of the Catholic Church, edicts and commandments that had been drummed into her since birth. I could see how the relationship I had with my cousin would rankle her sense of how the world should’ve been. Then, there was the fact the girls were willing to share me amongst them, which I know she wouldn’t let herself begin to understand.

  Now, she’d seen two of the girls sharing each other. I could see how this had the potential to send her screaming in the opposite direction, her hands waving madly above her head. When I thought of it, together, as a whole, realizing its cumulative effect on her, it made me sad. With the other girls snickering and gossiping in the small bathroom, it didn’t feel right. Tirza had the right to be happy too, even if life had hit her big-time, upside the head. She deserved more.

  I must’ve been walking while I was thinking, because the moment my final thought crossed my mind, I found myself beside Katie’s bed, peering down at her. She was still hugging her legs, her head hung low, resting upon her knees.

  “You ok, Teezee?” I asked. And yeah, I know, it was a retarded thing to ask, but it was the only way I could think of approaching her. So, go suck a dick!

  She lifted her head slowly, her eyes were bloodshot, and her nose was runny. She had been crying the whole time I’d been striding across the room. Her face was warped with pain, desolation.

  I had never felt so guilty in my life. Here I was holding a love-in with four chicks, while she was lamenting the death of her family. I’ve always been such a limp-dick when it came to things like this! How come I couldn’t be more attuned god dammit?!?

  I rushed over to one of the nightstands and pulled a Kleenex from its box, not pausing, as I knee-walked across the bed and wiped Tirza’s nose as if she were a toddler.

  She didn’t move a muscle, though her gaze followed me.

  I peered back at a loss. I had no idea what to do. “Is there anything I can do to help?” I asked like a fat man walking on thin ice.

  She didn’t speak or gesture with her hands, or even nod her head, for that matter. She simply shifted her legs, leaned forward and hugged me around the chest, not unlike she had in the past when she was hurting inside.

  I reached up and stroked her hair, saying the only thing I could think to say at time like this: “I’m sorry, Tirza. I’m so sorry.” I said it so many times, I lost count.

  She said nothing, but wept against me – huge wracking sobs shaking her tiny body as if she was being riddled with bullets.

  I held her until the last sob left her, feeling the anger beginning to rise. The other Estefan was trying like mad to boil to the surface of my conscious mind. If it hadn’t been for the helpless, despairing young woman in my arms, I might’ve let him out. I might’ve risked the havoc he could work. I might’ve…

  In the end, the desperate, young woman proved more important.

  { ¹Kathleen Turner: (born June 19, 1954) an American actress, who came to fame during the 1980s, after a series of roles in hit motion pictures; known for her sultry voice. }

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~♦~~~~~~~~~~~~

  ~ Chapter 59 ~

  (Summer – 2018)

  Burnt Offerings

  By mid-morning, we had all changed into bathing suits of varying sorts, ordered just about every type of take-out food imaginable and were frolicking about the backyard as kids our age should. I was sitting in the hot tub with Sandy, Flavia and Katie, a tall ice-filled cup of cherry Fanta¹ sitting beside me in a cup holder. Johan and Martin were playing in the pool. Ramona and Leda watched, sitting at the shallow end of the pool, their feet swirling in the cool, blue water, talking, their heads bent toward each other. Tirza sat behind one of the huge patio tables, this one ladened with so much food, it looked bowed in the middle. It was most likely an optical illusion. She had been talking with Jolene, but the younger girl had gone back into the house, presumably to relieve herself. Now, my tiny ex-girlfriend lounged deep in her chair, surveying the vista before her, sunglasses hiding swollen eyes and the sallow rings under them. She had her legs folded before her again, her child-like feet dangling off the edge, pudgy toes wriggling now and again. She was wrapped in a cocoon of deep thought and was better left alone to her own devices the time being.

  I glanced over at my step-sister, seeing the frown she had been wearing all morning and finally decided to ask what was the matter. “Why the long face, Flavy?”

  “You really don’t want to know,” she replied tersely.

  “I wouldn’t have asked, if I didn’t want to know, goof-ball,” I countered taking a drink of my cool Fanta. Between the heat of the day and the temperature of the water, I was hot as crap. I could feel the perspiration beading upon my forehead.

  My step-sister’s lips thinned, straightened. I washed off the sweat with some of the chlorine-saturated water we were sitting. “I’m just tired, Eff, ok?” She was glowering and it was plain to see, she didn’t want to talk about it.

  Beside me, Sandy sniggered. “It was your parents, huh?” she asked suddenly.

  Flavia’s head snapped in her direction, aggrieved and scandalized at the same time. It was obvious that Sandy had hit the nail on the head.

  I felt just a little bit of throw-up gurgle to the top of my throat. Gross, man! I thought as other, vividly nauseating images sprang to mind. My mother and step-father had been going at it last night! Yuck!

  Sandy continued to snicker.

  “I woke-up hearing some strange sounds,” ventured Flavia. So, really now we’re gonna go there and speak about this now? “It took me some time to realize what I was hearing. When I finally did realize mom and dad were having sex, I sat up and threw my covers off me. It was so hot in my room.”

  “It was precisely like that up in the Loft,” colluded Sandy. “Probably moreso…” Her look was innocent, but there was mischief at the corners of her eyes.

  “Then - ,” Flavia choked, then roughly cleared her throat. Her voice dropped and she leaned toward the center of the hot tube, which, of course, made us follow suit. “I saw Jolene.”

  I frowned.

  “You don’t mean…?” asked Sandy, seeking clarification.

  My step-sister nodded.

  “Are you serious? She was playing with herself?”

  The blood seemed to drain from Flavia’s face as she continued to nod her head in affirmation at Sandy.

  The copper-haired girl punched me in the arm. “Damn, Estefan, you made everyone in the whole house a bunch of horny-ass sluts!”

  Flavia’s eyes went even wider and would’ve said something, but Jolene came from the house like a wild banshee. We all forgot what we had been thinking seconds before.

  “I have to go, you guys! I can’t find anybody!” she said almost frantic. Her cell phone gripped before her like some sort of torch lighting the way, though it was in the middle of the afternoon.

  “What?” hollered my step-sister, rising from the water, making her way to the edge of the tub.

  Jolene turned to face her, her eyes bulging from her face. “I have to go, Flavia, I can’t find any of them. I have to try and find them before something bad happens!”

  “Find who?” asked my brother, having somehow made his way from the pool to his girlfriend’s side.

  “My parents, my brother and sister,” she exclaimed, ignored tears streaming down her face. “I can’t find them!”

  Tirza, being the closest to her to beg
in with, made it to her side at the same time as Johan. He reached out and grabbed the distraught girl by either wrist. I could see he was afraid she was going to faint. He was making ready, should she do so.

  “What do you mean, you can’t find them, Sweetie?” asked my ex-, using her softest tone, hopeful she could calm Jolene enough, so she’d speak coherently.

  Jolene’s gaze was one of pure fright. “I tried where they work. I tried the house. Everywhere I called, there was no answer. I even called the daycare where my brother and sister are when my parents are at work. They said my siblings hadn’t been dropped off today. The lady said she had called my house to confirm my brother and sister weren’t coming in today, and she got nothing, but a busy signal! Something’s wrong, I know it! Something bad has happened!” To everyone’s surprise, she wrenched free of Johan and collapsed into Tirza’s arms, weeping uncontrollably.

  Johan reached for her, his heart breaking for the girl he cared so much about, but Flavia, who had preceded the rest of us, put a light, restraining touch on the crock of his elbow.

  My brother gazed at her intently, but understood and stayed his ground. His expression was pinched with worry, nonetheless.

  The rest of us exchanged knowing looks, already calculating the worst had indeed occurred. The NIA was being very thorough now. There was no denying the obvious.

  Tirza comforted the girl the best she could, guiding her to one of the patio chairs and sat her down, once her initial onslaught of crying had subsided from all-out wailing to more manageable sobs. The whole time, she spoke to Jolene in soothing tones, none of us could hear, pulling stray strands of hair from her face, wiping the large tunnels of tears streaking her cheeks.

  “What should we do?” asked Ramona with little Martín in tow. He was staring at each of bug-eyed with uncertainty, not sure if he should be afraid or not.

  I smiled at him, holding out my hand. He came to me, almost running, though he distance wasn’t far. I wrapped a reassuring arm about his small shoulders. He looked up at me with big brown eyes, the bangs of his bowl-shaped hair cut falling to either side of his forehead.

  “You think we should check it out? You know to make certain,” assayed Katie, typically the first to see through emotion (the bullshit) with a clear head.

  That pulled my attention from Martín at once. “What do you mean?”

  My cousin flipped her hair behind her shoulders. “Maybe we should go to her house and see…” Her eyes darted toward Jolene. She lowered her voice. “I don’t know, maybe find out what happened.”

  “You think that’s wise?” asked Leda, wringing her hands before her waist.

  We were forming a circle with Tirza and Jolene off to one side.

  “I’m not sure about that,” admitted Katie with a thoughtful shrug. “But, we owe it to her to try and find out something.”

  “Isn’t it a big risk, though?” questioned Sandy, gnawing at her knuckles, agitated at the prospect of us walking right into a NIA strike zone.

  “Yeah, it probably is,” I began, “but not such a high one, if we take precautions.” I was starting to believe my cousin was right. We owed it to Jolene to at least try to understand what had happened.

  “I want you go with you guys!” yelled Jolene, quickly dodging around Tirza’s attempts to forestall her, barging into the inadvertent circle we had just forged.

  “No!” I managed to be stern, though I didn’t like myself for doing so. “We can’t risk them spotting you. If they know about your family, then they’ll know about you. If you show up at your house, you’d be a sitting duck.”

  “But, I want - !”

  Johan interrupted her. “He’s right, Joe. They’ll recognize you the moment you come within half a mile from your house.” I could see he was scared shitless something awful might happen to her. It was easy for me to sympathize, knowing how fucking frightened I’d be if Katie or Ramona, or any of the other girls were in eminent danger.

  “Johan!” scolded Jolene, as if his speaking up was a betrayal.

  “Babe, come one. I’m only trying to protect you,” responded my brother, not at all mollified by her condemnation.

  “It’s my family, what the hell do you expect me to do?” She was on the verge of tears again.

  “To stay alive.” The words had come from the smallest of us teens, in the tiniest voice, but one that was firm and resolute.

  We all turned toward Tirza.

  She continued, “If anything has happened to your family, Jolene, it is what they would want you to do – stay alive, make their sacrifices worth something.” My ex-girlfriend came up the younger girl and held out her hand. “I know more than anyone, remember?”

  Jolene seemed to crumble. If it hadn’t been for Johan, she might’ve fallen to the floor. Instead, he caught her under the arms and, with surprising strength, lifted her off her feet, cradling her like a baby. Unable to withstand the combination of her draining sobs and my brother’s strong grip, she buried her head into his shoulder and continued to weep.

  Tirza came to his side, and then glanced at the rest of us. “We’ll take care of her; you guys decided what you’re going to and let us know.” With that, the three of them vanished inside my parents’ house with Tirza giving Johan quiet direction we couldn’t hear. My brother was nodding the whole time.

  *****

  In the end, Sandy, Katie and I were chosen to go on the short excursion to Jolene’s parents’ house. Our logic seemed sound. Sandy was the only one with a car, Katie was unknown around this part of the country, and I was the only one who had shown that my Mutation was strong enough to affect groups, and not only individuals. If something bad were to happen, the plan was for me to reduce our assailants to butt-fucking whores.

  We left under the watchful eye of Jolene, who told us her address and begged us tell her everything we discovered regardless how bad the circumstances. Tirza and Johan hadn’t left her side, since they’d escorted her into the TV room. They’d gotten her something cold to drink, while the rest of us had haggled over how many of us should go, who should go and why. It hadn’t taken long, but it did take some time, since what we were undertaking wasn’t necessarily a walk in the park. This was something we all realized and, because of it, the longest part of our discussion was whether or not we should go to Jolene’s house armed or not. It took us ten minutes to come to the consensus. Going to a potential NIA strike-site, packing guns was probably not a good thing, since our main objective was to gather information. If we went as your regular, run-of-the-mill rubber-neckers, we’d most likely be able to scout the area unnoticed. If we ended up being questioned, we could always play dumb. This was an act infinitely harder to pull off with a .50 caliber hand gun shoved in ones’ waistband. So, we went unarmed.

  Ramona had pulled me aside and given me a quick lecture about being safe and not getting hurt, etc., etc., before she kissed me lightly on the lips. Her parting words were, she expected me back in one piece – all of me.

  Tirza merely waved a small wave, but there was more in her eyes. I knew she wouldn’t speak of about yet, but it was there. I held her gaze for a few moments, but didn’t press the issue, especially with a distraught Jolene and a haunted Johan to either side of her. It wasn’t the time. Maybe sometime in the future, the “right” time would arrive…

  Leda was last. I was almost out the door when I felt her thin fingers clasp about my palm, giving me a tug, nearly indistinguishable from the natural sway of my arms. I had turned and she was there, in my arms, on her tips toes, her soft lips on mine. She didn’t say a single word when we had finished, only an arched eyebrow told me she expected me to come back to her. I nodded. So did she. We didn’t need words. Leda and I have always been like that – seventy percent of our communication has been completely and utterly silent.

  We hopped into Sandy’s burnished-brown, 2012 Dodge Magnum Srt8 and sped off down the street, turning right, then left three blocks later onto Avenue 63. We wanted to avoid the busier thorou
ghfares in the area. When we came to Meridan Street, I told Sandy to take it all the way to Avenue 49, so we’d avoid York Boulevard and any prying eyes that may be looking for anything out of the ordinary, whatever it may be.

  I wasn’t taking any chances.

  As usual, Meridan was devoid of any consistent traffic. We made it to Avenue 49 as though we were ghosts in the night, though it was broad daylight. No one paid any notice. From there, we turned left until we came to El Paso and took a right, passing through the Highland Park and its myriad of unique homes - every single one different from the next.

  When we came to Division Street, we turned left and began a twisting route through the foothills of Mount Washington until we came to Sunny Heights drive and turned left. Here, Sandy slowed, because we were getting close to Jolene’s parents’ house.

  I glanced about the large homes dotting the various flanks of Mount Washington, marveling over such opulence in the midst of our middle class neighborhood. The houses up here were, quite frankly, huge!

  Sandy drove no more than a half a mile when we began to see the crowds, the marked increase in traffic and, to our dread, long lines of police tape blockading entrance onto Marchena Drive where Jolene and her family lived.

  As smart as she was cute, Sandy busted a quick bitch and parked four blocks from the throng gathering about the lazy, turn onto Marchena, turning toward me. “So, what’re we gonna do now?”

  “I don’t know,” I shrugged. “Seems like an awful lot of cops and NIA bastards around, so you know something went down.”

  “Yeah, especially if they blocked off the entire street,” agreed Sandy, looking out through the back window to the multitude behind the car.

  I ran my hand over my bare scalp, pausing to scratch an earlobe, and then turned to peer out the same window. Neither of us was paying much attention to Katie, who was sitting in the back seat, a thoughtful scowl on her face.

  “Didn’t Jolene say she lived at the end of Marchena?” I asked.