Arkadium Rising (4 page)

He'd been shooting up for a year and it had started taking its toll. Nothing much mattered anymore but scoring and shooting up and scrambling for cash for his next spoonful of smack. And in his degradation, he'd become isolated from the world, his family, from guilt and consequence. There was no longer any other hunger in his life.

And his hunger had grown until he killed himself. Jason had found him curled in a ball on the utility room floor, the syringe still dangling from his tied-off arm.

He was non-responsive to the paramedics' efforts. They were unable to find his pulse for over two minutes—only God knew the exact length of that momentary death. But during the paramedics' waning efforts, something sparked within his brain and jump started his nervous system. At that moment—when his heart started up again, when he was damned to live no matter how hard he tried to do the opposite—Jason excised him from his life. If he would've only died for good on the utility room floor, no insurmountable chasm would've grown between them.

Marcus wished he could see Jason now. More importantly, he wished Jason could see
him
. He'd destroyed their relationship, but Marcus could remember good times. Moments of laughter, moments that were so joyous that even their mother would join in.

When he wasn't mindful, the craving would blindside him, and he would start the ceaseless churn of seeking dope money for his next fix. How easily his mind defaulted to the old rituals and their attenuating highs. If he were offered a dose of smack this instant, it would be in his arm the very next. Luckily, there was no temptation. Just a job to do. A goal to accomplish.

Marcus stood and crushed his cigarette under his heel. He opened the sliding door off the deck and stepped inside. The Urlander family. Of course he knew their names. Names were the greatest detail, and details had power, after all.

Claudia and Jim Urlander, both face down on the living room carpet, writhed against the duct tape hogtying them. Their sons, Jim Jr. and Michael, were between them, both similarly bound. Jim Jr., all of fourteen, wriggled away from his family, wriggled until he came within a foot of Marcus. The boy looked up at him, the band of duct tape across his mouth forcing his face into a sinister mask.

"Water is your salvation. It will purify you. It will set you free," Marcus said, as he had said to many people since yesterday.

As if on cue, the Urlanders screamed as one through their gags, their voices cracking from the effort. Marcus lifted his boot and slammed it into the boy's temple.

"Stupid kid. Look, now you've gone and upset your family."

Marcus exited through the front door. The Urlanders' blood-curdling screams were muffled by their gags, and soon to end.

"Next stop?" Marcus asked Austin Collins, who stood in the driveway with an old, bearded man named Eldon Pointer, the "Brother Abel" of their group here in Concord. Every group of Arkadium had a spiritual guide to help during the weakest moments in their faith. This person's secret avocation, besides comforting the other members of the Arkadium, was to memorize the eternal word of God, the Book of Genesis, the true, unaltered Book, as it was recorded so long ago.

"The next two houses, then we're all set," Austin said. "The others should be about ready, too. Then we'll regroup at the dam."

Marcus checked his watch. "When you plan for millennia, things have a way of falling into place."

"I couldn't agree more," Eldon said.

"And once we're done here, it will be your turn, Brother Abel."

Eldon smiled broadly. "I've been waiting my entire life to hear those words."

2.

Delaney spent the rest of the drive to Concord facing the open window, her arms crossed in front of her. Jason could feel the anger rising from her like heat waves off a hot tarmac. He didn't know if the anger was meant for him or for herself. He had his own anger building, but he knew just who to direct it at: Marcus. Only his brother could so thoroughly capture a young woman's heart. Only his chaos could insinuate itself into the core of a person until it changed her DNA. Delaney had certainly changed in the last few years, but Marcus's manipulations still distorted her decision making even when he was nowhere to be seen.

After seemingly endless cornfields, they finally reached the outskirts of Concord. The passing farms got smaller, the houses newer. Before they got any further, Jason pulled the car to the curb.

"Listen, Delaney, we don't have to do this."

She looked at him for the first time in an hour, her eyes bloodshot. "Please, not now, Jason. Especially not now. Just keep going... please?"

"We can go home, forget we ever came here. Marcus doesn't even know we came this far. No harm, no foul."

"And then what, you'd be my boyfriend?"

"Maybe. Or... no. I don't know! I just know that this won't end well."

"That could never happen. We both suffered a moment of weakness. Nothing more."

"Delaney, I might not be Marcus, but you're no longer the Delaney I remember, either. You've changed. I've changed."

"Jason," she said, and waited a beat before continuing. "It's never going to happen. What happened back at Happy's—that never happened, either. It was a mistake."

"But—"

"I belong to Marcus."

She said this last with such finality that he could do nothing else but pull the car back onto the road. The eye-high cornfields gave way to suburban-type homes on either side of the road.

Despite the situation, Jason couldn't help but wonder at seeing Concord's hominess, especially when comparing it to the dives to which Marcus typically gravitated. A wooden sign indicated they were now entering Concord, Illinois. Population 1573. Incorporated 1867. Home of the Illinois State High School Baseball Champions, 1960. He laughed as he put the sign in the rearview.

"Must have been a slow last fifty years," Delaney said, breaking the tension between them. Her words seemed like a peace offering, or at least a band aid to cover their last few hours spent together.

"It must be sad to know your town peaked fifty years ago."

Delaney smiled and said, "You know, any other time..."

"And any other brother. I know."

"Thanks for understanding, Jason."

"It's not like I understand you and Marcus, but hey, I'm just fulfilling my role in life."

He stopped the Accord at the first stop sign in town. They were on Main and the crossing street was called Sleepy Road.

"This is nice," Delaney said as she peered out her open window at the serene homes with their tidy yards.

"Yeah, but I just can't see Marcus living here. Or the locals allowing him to stay."

Jason eased off the brake, letting the car idle down the street. Anything faster would feel unseemly in such a peaceful neighborhood. To either side, actual white picket fences cordoned off yards. Basketball hoops hung above garage doors.

"Why the hell would Marcus choose to live here?"

Delaney didn't respond.

When Delaney had asked for his help, he fully expected to find Marcus holed up in a rundown hovel or a derelict minivan strewn with dirty syringes, perhaps even inside an inner city dumpster with a bullet in his brain. Anywhere but here.

His mother's plea reminded him of his reason for being here.
Bring Marcus home. If he's found the right path, family will only make him stronger.

Maybe their mom had been right.

When she had hugged him, she'd whispered,
Do this for me.
Her voice had been so quiet, so weak, that he would've sworn he heard something breaking within her.

Fine. He would find Marcus and bring him back home to rehab or therapy, or wherever he needed to go this time. Who was he to judge where his brother lived, especially since it was much nicer than he expected? After another block of houses, he abruptly stomped on the brake pedal, the slightly rusty squeal sounding disproportionately loud.

"Where is everybody?"

"I know, right?" Delaney looked behind them for passing cars, then shrugged.

"Where are the stay-at-home moms talking across the picket fences? Nobody's on their way to the grocery store. Where's the mailman?"

The streets of Concord seemed abandoned.
Felt
abandoned.

He eased off the brake pedal, again moving at an idle, this time out of curiosity. A tire swing swung in aimless circles, childless, nudged along by the wind. A flimsy produce bag swirled across the street as lonesome as a tumbleweed. His reporter's curiosity shifted to worry. Something was wrong. He didn't know what, but he knew he would have to find out.

Then, from the corner of his eye he sensed a sudden movement—someone jumping behind a tree to hide.

"That's it."

"What? What's going on?" Delaney said.

Jason pulled the car to the well-manicured curb and shifted into park. The engine clicked and sputtered as he stepped outside.

"Wait. Hold on a second... Hello?" he called out, stepping into the grass edging the street.

A thin arm pulled back, now fully hidden behind the tree.

"I saw you. I know you're there," he said, feeling like a child playing hide-and-seek.

No response. No movement. No sound but the hot wind whooshing through the neighborhood's trees.

Jason stepped over a low picket fence, cautiously circling around the tree.

"Jason, what the hell are you doing?" Delaney said, leaving the car to join him.

"Hello? I'm looking for someone. My brother. I have an address, but I don't know the layout—"

He lost all sense of what he was saying when he saw the boy. No more than nine years old, he wore only boxers and a sweat-soaked undershirt as he cowered behind the tree. Even his feet were bare. Raw rope burns ringed his wrists, his ankles. A necklace of used duct tape hung around his neck. Bits of blond hair clung to the tape's crinkled sticky side. In his shock, it took Jason a moment to realize the tape was a ripped-off mouth gag.

"Jesus..." Jason pulled his cell from his pocket, but he didn't have a signal. "What kind of town doesn't have cell reception?"

"Maybe it's the hills," Delaney said. She stayed close to Jason, but she looked like she wanted to run as fast as possible in the opposite direction.

"Don't hurt me." The boy moved around the tree, and Jason followed, his hands outstretched to show him he meant no harm. "I don't want to die," the boy whispered, still moving.

The boy's words were like a slap to the face. Jason stopped after a full circle of the tree, trying to collect his thoughts. "Who did this to you?"

"Jason, my God, what's going on?" Delaney asked.

"I don't want to... I can't even swim. Mom and Dad aren't back from work yet. They should'a been home an hour ago. And they're not home, and then... and then they broke down the door."

"Who did this to you?"

"The God-man and the preacher-man." The boy started crying, his shoulders hitching with emotion. He blinked through tears as he looked up at Jason.

"What are you talking about?" Jason took the boy by the shoulders, kneeling to his eyelevel. Something clicked in his brain. "Who is this God-man?"

"He tied me up. Kept saying, 'water is salvation.' Over and over."

"Does this man have a tattooed arm?"

The boy's crying intensified. "I can't swim!"

"Does he have a tattooed arm?" Jason demanded, coming close to shaking the boy. He took a deep breath.

Delaney kneeled next to the boy. "These tattoos make his arm all black, like a sleeve? Like someone dipped his arm in a can of paint to the elbow?"

The boy calmed, got control of his hitching chest. "Yeah, that's him. I wanted to punch him, but I got scared. Can you punch him for me, mister?"

"When I find him I'll do more than punch him," Jason said. He felt somewhat vindicated knowing that there was a sinister element to Marcus's plans in Concord. "Do you know where he is?"

The boy pressed himself against the tree. Peeking out from his hiding spot, he pointed over the leafy canopy across the street. Pointed as if to indicate the moon.

At first, Jason thought the boy had lost it. But as his vision focused farther away, he saw the rise of the surrounding hills veiled in a fine mist rising from a dam's turbines. And movement atop the hill. A gathering of people.

Are they watching us?

Jason grabbed hold of Delaney and forced them both flat to the ground.

"Jason, what are you doing?" Delaney said and broke free of his grip. She sat up and brushed her clothes.

"Marcus, he's up there!"

Jason peered through the slats of the picket fence. He felt like a fool with his cheek against the ground while the boy looked down on him from his hiding spot. But seeing his rope burns and duct tape necklace... he wished his cell had reception. Or that he had a gun.

"Hey, can you guys swim?" the boy asked.

Jason ignored the boy's question. "I'm going to go up there to get to the bottom of this."

The boy looked disappointed as if Jason had just made the worst possible decision.

"Jason—" Delaney started to protest.

"And you're staying here."

"The hell I am. I'm going wherever Marcus is."

"It might not be safe."

"For you, maybe, but Marcus would never hurt me. And no, you can't stop me, either."

"Fine, but if anything crazy happens, I'm tearing out of there, with or without Marcus."

Without another word, Delaney climbed back into the car. Jason leaned over and put his hand on the boy's shoulder. The boy trembled with fear under his touch.

"Will you be here when I come back? I'll take you to the police. We'll find your parents."

"There's nobody. Nobody's coming back," he said.

"I'll come back. I promise. Just meet me by this tree."

The boy scrunched up his shoulders in an
I guess
motion. His expression still hadn't changed, though. He obviously thought Jason didn't know what he was doing, and his innocence didn't allow him to hide his feelings.

"I'll be okay. That's my brother up there. I know how to talk to him. Everything'll be fine."