The Next God

by MB Mooney

  His cell phone rang now, startling him. He answered on the third ring. “Hello?”

  A female voice he didn’t immediately recognize. “Yes, Richard?”

  “Yep,” he said.

  “Yeah, hey, uh, this is Heather, Heather Williams from school?” She said it as if she wasn’t sure. He saw the image of her in his head, her red hair, her full eyes and freckled face, friendly smile.

  “Yeah, I remember you.”

  “Cool. I, uh, know this is a bad time and all, but I just wanted to call and see how you were doing.”

  “You did?” Richard’s first impulse was to mock her, push her away - what a stupid thing to do, call him at a time like this - but he thought better of it. She was being nice. Don’t hurt her for it. “That’s sweet of you.”

  “Yeah, well, I just wanted to call and say that I’m sorry you won’t be at school for a while.”

  “Really?”

  “Sure. I guess I’ll have to take a rain check on showing you some of my art and stuff, but that’s okay.”

  It was a hint, and Richard spotted it from a mile away. He bought in. “Well, what are you doing right now?”

  “Oh, nothing much. What about you?”

  “I’m kinda all alone over here watching TV. Nothing special. I could use some company for a while. Wanna come over?”

  “Cool, well I’ll be there in a little bit.”

  “I’ll leave the door open for you,” he said. They spoke their good-byes, and Richard turned his attention back to the television, changing channels, flipping around.

  -----

  Vikki Wagner didn’t want to be at the party. She thought she needed a distraction, but she was wrong. She couldn’t get far enough away from the images in her own mind.

  Young people around her were talking, smiling, laughing, appearing to have fun. She shook her head.

  Those eyes, the look in Richard’s eyes as he beat that boy. God, why couldn’t she forget that look?

  And she really liked Matt, wanted things to work out, at least to try. But even with him, she couldn’t get away from Richard. She thought with Matt she could have something apart from her old flame. She chuckled at words like destiny and fate, but were they real things? Vikki started to believe.

  Matt was so innocent; his heart was so pure. He was cute, but there was more, underneath – a strength, a mystery. What was she going to do?

  Vikki’s phone vibrated nearby. She picked it up. “Hello?”

  “Hello?” a woman’s voice, anxious and desperate. “Vikki?”

  “Yeah, this is Vikki.”

  “Hi, this is Alice Walker, Matt’s mother?”

  “Hi, Mrs. Walker. It’s nice to finally talk to you.”

  “Yes, me too. Vikki, I’ll get right to the point. Is Matt with you?”

  She sounded frightened. Vikki frowned. “No, I haven’t talked to him since just after school. Why?”

  “Oh, we’re just looking for him.”

  “Is there something wrong?”

  “Well, we just really need to find him. It’s rather urgent.”

  “Do you need me to help you find him?” Vikki was concerned now, wondering what exactly had happened. Mrs. Walker didn’t seem able to tell her, but she could tell something was wrong.

  “No, no, it’s all right. Just, if you find him, call us.”

  “Sure, I’ve got your number now in my phone. Are you at home?” Vikki switched the phone to her other ear. “Mrs. Walker, this sounds kinda serious. Are you sure there isn’t anything I can help you with?”

  “No, honey,” and Vikki thought she heard faint sobbing. Was Mrs. Walker crying? “Just ... if you find him, try to get him home.” The last words were spoken deliberately, willed through the desperation.

  “Okay,” Vikki said.

  “Thank you,” Alice Walker said and the line ended, the clicking and tone in Vikki’s ear suddenly.

  Vikki hung up the phone after a long pause. Alice Walker had sounded so scared. Vikki stood there in the den at the party, and the mumbling of her friends tried to soothe her, wanted to comfort her, tell her everything’s going be okay. But something was happening, something strange and mysterious going on with Mrs. Walker. She was anxious. Matt had gone missing. And he was her friend, if not more.

  She got her coat, said her goodbyes at the party, and went to find Matt.

  Chapter 16

  Marcus watched as Steven turned to his mother, handing her the keys to the car. “Leave us alone for a while,” he said to her. “Marcus and I have a lot to talk about.”

  Marilyn took the keys from her husband’s hand. Her brow furrowed. “But ...”

  “Just leave us for a while,” Steven said. “We just have some things to discuss. The dinner was wonderful. Come back in a couple hours.” He touched her shoulder. “I promise everything will be all right.”

  “Okay,” she accepted, and she turned to leave, glancing once at Marcus, her son, bandaged and sitting alone on the couch in the living room. His nose filled half of his swollen face.

  Steven watched his wife leave, grinning at her, leaning more to one side to get a full view of the car backing out of the driveway and into the night. He turned to Marcus, frowning. “You little piece of shit,” he said, and Marcus rolled his eyes at this man, this white man. “You really think you’re gonna get away with this?”

  Marcus felt tired, his energy drained from the overnight stay at the hospital. “Not today, Steven,” he said, his voice tense. “Don’t start with me today.”

  “Or what? Huh? Just what are you gonna do? Do you understand just what you’ve done? You’re not going to be playing any sports all year long, do you know that? And your grades are definitely not good enough to get you any type of scholarship to college.” Steven paced the floor in front of the couch, in front of Marcus, like he was on trial or something.

  “Why are you yelling at me? I’m the one who’s got the broken nose!”

  “Yeah, you look like shit. But you deserved it. The principal called me up, told me that you started the fight. All the students he talked to about it say that you walked up behind him and started it. Didn’t you know that this would get you in trouble, big trouble?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And no baseball this year, Marcus, none whatsoever. You can forget playing at all. And who knows how the coaches will feel about you next year. They might decide you’re just trouble or damaged goods and not pick you for the team.”

  “Why do you care?”

  “What?”

  “Why do you care about what happens to me? You never cared before. You just tolerate me so you can screw my mother.”

  “You watch your mouth, Marcus,” Steven spoke low, serious. “I’ll kick your ass worse than that hippie freak did, you understand? Who put that bruise on your mother’s cheek, huh? I know you’ve been hitting her when I’m not around. And I know you’re scared of me, scared shitless like you should be. ‘Cause I’ll kill your ass. You mess with me and you won’t live to see another day.”

  “You can’t do that. My mother would never look at you again, asshole. Never.”

  “Maybe, but you would never hurt her again, would you?”

  The doorbell rang, and Steven cursed. “I told her not to come back for another couple hours.” He walked towards the door. “She must have forgotten her purse with her house keys in them, or something,” he said. Marcus stood to follow him. He was going to go with his mother, get out of this house somehow before something serious happened. And he was afraid of Steven. He would never have admitted it to anyone, but it was true just the same.

  He stood behind Steven and watched as his stepfather opened the door.

  It was not Marilyn.

  A tall white man hovered in the doorway, spreading his arms and smiling. “Stevie! Long time no see!” He wore a long coat with a torn hole in the shoulder. It was dark outside, but Marcus could’ve swore that there were bloodstains on the dark coat.

  “Brian? Brian Stuar
t? What the hell are you doing here?”

  -----

  Vikki’s small, black Honda Civic held the curve into the apartment complex, and she had to brake quickly to avoid running over the curb as she parked in front of the building closest to her, downshifting into first gear. Her head moved forward a little, and she brushed her long, blond hair away from her face, stepping out of the car. She didn’t close the car door behind her as she rushed up the stone stairs to the second floor of the building.

  As she neared the door to Richard’s apartment she reached into her front jeans pocket and pulled out the key. She wondered if it would still work. Inserting it into the lock, she knew immediately that it would. She remembered everything, so many good things but more she wished she could forget. The smell of the apartment gave her that same familiar sensation, the same mix of beer, smoke and mustiness. It both gave her comfort and scared her. She was in the living room, turning the small, tight corner, and she saw them there, together, on the couch.

  They were just sitting, watching television together, but they might as well have been naked and humping as far as Vikki’s heart was concerned. She drew in her breath with a small squeal of surprise, and Richard’s head turned at the sound. It had all happened faster than it seemed.

  Vikki didn’t recognize the girl. Settling herself, she thought how silly this feeling was, this … jealousy? It shocked her. The girl turned around, as well, her long, straight red hair clashing with the old couch, and Vikki faked a smile, politely waving in recognition to the both of them.

  Richard stood, using the arm of the old couch to twist and face her. “Vikki. What are you doing here?”

  “I … just,” and she stopped right there. She couldn’t speak, the surprise still overwhelmed her. She turned and began to walk out of the apartment.

  “Wait right here,” she heard Richard say to the girl from behind her. “Vikki!” he called, and she felt his hands halt her forward motion before she reached the landing of the stairs. She turned to see him. Why the hell did she feel this way? “Vikki, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I’m sorry. I ... shouldn’t have ..”

  “It’s not nothing. You wouldn’t be here if it was nothing. What is going on?”

  She shook her head. “It’s Matt. His mom called me. I don’t know what’s going on, but she can’t find him.” She steadied her gaze on his. “She sounded so scared, it made me worry about him. I don’t know. I just wanted to see if you knew where he was. I thought he might be over here. I guess I was wrong.”

  Richard ignored her stab. “I don’t know where he is. I haven’t talked to him all day.” He looked away, then back at her. “But I do have an idea.”

  “You do?”

  “Yeah. He might be ... at the mill.”

  “The mill?” she said, and she took a step away from him, keeping her balance on the handrail at the top of the stone stairs. She could see her breath, his breath too as she looked up at him, her countenance straining in its confusion. “Why …” And she stared at him, and his eyes went away from her in shame. “You told him about the mill?”

  “I just told him that I used to go there from time to time, you know, to get away from things. I’m only saying that it’s an idea. He might not even be there.”

  “But ... how could you? I mean, the mill?”

  He finally met her gaze, almost in anger. “What are you talking about, ‘how could you?’ What did you expect? It’s my past too, you know.”

  She frowned at him, feeling the swell in her eyes. “I just thought some things should matter to you, that’s all. Things that were special at one time.” She sighed. “Silly me.” She turned and went down the stairs.

  “Where are you going?” he called after her.

  “Where do you think?” she said, refusing to turn her head to speak to him. She reached her car. “I’m going to the mill.”

  -----

  Heather sat alone on the couch, listening to the conversation going on outside. Richard had jumped up so quickly, so intently. She couldn't hear exactly what was said, but the seriousness of it reached her in the tones and hesitations. The conversation grew quiet, and Richard walked into the apartment, rubbing his arms from the cold, closing the door behind him. He seemed distant and distracted now, and she cursed that girl.

  It was Vikki Wagner, that she knew. Everyone knew Vikki Wagner. Heather and Richard had been having a pretty good time, just sitting and watching, sometimes talking and not watching at all. Richard sat down next to her on the couch, picking up the remote and flipping through randomly.

  Heather spoke. “Is something wrong?”

  “No,” he said, barely audible, hardly acknowledging her existence. “It’s nothing,” he said after a long breath. “Nothing at all.”

  -----

  “Aren’t you going to invite me in?” Brian asked, a queer look on his face, and Marcus watched from the hallway as Steven stepped aside slowly, allowing Brian to stride into the house. “That’s more like it, Stevie!”

  “What are you doing here, Brian?” Steven closed the door behind the tall white man with the dark coat. “I haven’t seen you in, what? Seven years?”

  Brian nodded, walking into the house, towards Marcus. Marcus took a couple steps backwards. “Something like that.” Marcus didn’t think that the tall white man had seen him, yet. He moved back into the living room.

  “Where have you been?” Steven asked. “You’ve been away for a while.”

  “Oh, I’ve been around.” Brian’s eyes were moving around the house, peering at unknown details and taking in his surroundings. He turned to Steven. “I was just in the area again, you know, and I thought, damn! I wonder if Stevie lives in that same house he was buying years ago?”

  Steve gestured to his house proudly. “Yeah, I am.”

  “Obviously.”

  Steven led Brian into the living room where Marcus stood near the couch, wide-eyed and still. Steven gave Marcus a stern gaze. “Marcus, why don’t you go upstairs for a while?”

  “Why?” Marcus said.

  “Because I said so,” Steven said, beginning to get more anxious and angry.

  Brian seemed to notice Marcus for the first time, his eyes freezing to him. “Well, what do we have here?” Brian said. He smiled at Marcus. “How old are you, son?”

  Son? “I’m seventeen,” Marcus answered.

  “Ah,” Brian said. “And what grade are you in?”

  “I’m a Junior.”

  The tall white man seemed pleased by this. “Who beat the shit out of you, Marcus?”

  Marcus grimaced at Brian. “Nobody.”

  Brian chuckled. “Tough guy. I like that. Keep it up.”

  Steven spoke up again, channeling the subject away from Marcus. “What brings you to this area, Brian? I mean, it’s been so long.”

  Brian waited a moment, watching Marcus, before turning to Steven quickly, breaking out of his spell, and addressing him. “Well, I’m glad you asked, Stevie. You see, I’m in town on ... well, let’s just say some business. Personal business. Very personal business. And I need your help.”

  “My help?” Steven’s voice rose in pitch.

  “Well, actually,” Brian’s gaze returned to Marcus. “I believe this young man may be able to help me.”

  Steven’s eyebrows came together in the middle of his forehead to celebrate his confusion. “Marcus?”

  “Yes, Marcus,” Brian said. “What a fine name for a young man. I believe he may just be the person I’m looking for.”

  Dancing around from one foot to the other, almost to the point of bouncing in nervousness, Steven spoke suddenly to Brian. “Look, Brian, I really think you should go.”

  The tall white man never took his eyes from Marcus. “Steven, are you kicking me out of your house, after all we’ve been through, after all this time? Remember when we were together in Iraq? God, those were some good times!”

  “Look,” Steven began. “I know that you’ve been ... away on some type
of business, and I just don’t think you should get us caught up in it.”

  “Normally, I would agree with you, Stevie,” Brian said. “But you really don’t have a choice.”

  “I don’t?”

  “No, because if you don’t help me,” Brian placed his right hand under his coat, his back to Steven, and spun around to face Steve holding an automatic pistol in his right hand after removing it from his coat. “I’ll kill you and then my new little friend, here.”

  Steven’s eyes widened, throwing his hands up in surrender. “What the hell, Brian?”

  “I really hate to do this to you, but you don’t know my situation. And it’s not that big of a deal, you know. I have a few questions, and he’s the one who can help me. I’m sure he goes to the local high school, right?”

  Steven nodded.

  “Well, fine, then. See? It’s easy already. Now, Marcus, are you ready to help me?”

  Marcus stood on weak knees and sore legs. He looked at Steven, then at the back of Brian’s head. “I’ll help you,” he said. “But on one condition.”

  “You are in no position to bargain,” Brian said.

  “One condition.”

  Brian chuckled. “Okay, I’ll play, what’s the condition?”

  “Kill him.”

  The tall man almost turned around, hesitating for a moment. “What? I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard you.”

  “I said that I’d help you … if you kill Steve, and only if you kill him.”

  “What the hell are you saying, Marcus?” Steven said in a panic. “Don’t screw with this guy, Marcus, he’s dangerous! Don’t you read the goddamn newspapers? I think he’s that serial killer. He’s killed people already!”

  “Good,” Marcus said, low and a little under his breath. “Then one more won’t even matter.”

  Steven stared at Marcus, held in complete shock, his stupid Army haircut with his hands in the air, his eyes jumping. When Brian fired the gun twice into Steven’s face, Marcus reached up and grabbed his ears, the sound loud and yet somehow pleasurable. Marcus didn’t realize he had closed his eyes until he opened them to see Steven dead and bleeding on the floor of the house he had been so damn proud of. There wasn’t much of a face left.