Crow - The Awakening (72 page)

Both Jonah and Charley glared at him now. "Hmm, I hit a nerve, didn't I?" Jacob grinned at them. "Hey, no harm, no foul." He held his hands up then grabbed another beer. "But I have to say, I really appreciate how cooperative you've been in helping me get to know Steven. I feel like we're best buddies already." Jacob smiled amicably as he popped the top off the beer. His captives didn't say a word, but their involuntary responses were what he was looking for, and he had learned plenty from just that.

Brandon sat in the car looking at the apartment. He wasn't sure if Steven had made it there yet, but all seemed quiet. He was a little nervous getting out of the car; part of him screamed to run away. If they weren't after him, why should he continue to place himself in danger? But he remembered Rachel and the personal vendetta he owed her killers. He looked over at the necklace that sat in the passenger seat. That was another big question he wanted an answer to as well. He had the necklace custom made and no two turquoise stones are the same. No, he was most definitely not going to run off.

He opened the door, then looked back at the passenger seat and grabbed the necklace. Brandon put it in his pocket then stood up. He saw someone coming out of the door and of the apartment building and rushed to catch it before it closed. He didn't know anyone else there to buzz him in, and he didn't want to sit out there in the car waiting for Steven to show up. Steven said that his apartment was on the roof and had given him the code to take the elevator all the way to the top in case he got in. Brandon timidly made his way over to the elevator, half expecting agents to jump out of the apartments in the hall and shoot him or angry tenants to challenge his presence. But nothing happened.

As Brandon stood in the elevator he breathed a sigh of relief. He felt like he was trespassing and being sneaky. But if the end result meant that the people who shot up his home and killed what could have been a future wife suffered, then it was worth it. He hit the button for the roof and keyed in the code. He saw where a key was used to double lock the door for the roof and hoped it was unlocked. It would be awkward to have to come back down after going all the way up there. His frayed nerves were assuaged as the elevator door opened and he stepped out onto the roof. He was startled to see some people sitting over in a corner drinking beer. One of them waved him over. It looked like they were having a little party over there. He saw a cooler that was open and full of ice and beer.

Shrugging, Brandon walked over. Some company may be a welcome distraction after the horrible day he had just experienced. But as he got closer, he slowed. He noticed that some of the people didn't look too happy and a few more steps closer he saw that they were tied to the chairs. His heart suddenly started beating and he turned to go when he saw two agents standing behind him. Fear gave way to a sudden rush of anger, however, as he remembered Rachel and before he knew it he punched one of the agents in the face as hard as he could, yelling angrily. The agent didn't look fazed by the pummeling Brandon delivered. The agent looked at a man behind Brandon, who turned in time to see the man shrug, smile, and shake his head. When he turned back he had just enough time to see the elbow coming straight at his jaw. The next thing he saw was a bright flash and then darkness.

Jacob shook his head as he looked down at Brandon. "You know, I'd really have offered him a beer." He looked at one of the agents who pulled out his gun and started attaching a sound suppressor on it.

"No! Please!" Sally screamed, trembling. Brandon had been Steven's only real childhood peer and she couldn't bear to see him harmed, much less shot. "Please, don't kill him," she pleaded.

Walking over to her, Jacob knelt down and regarded Sally with a cool gaze. "Now what would motivate me to let him live?"

"He hasn't done anything to you!" Sally said, tears streaming down her face.

"No, I think it's more than that." He sat on his chair and looked at her for a moment. "I think you know this person."

Jacob looked over at the agent that had pulled Brandon's wallet out. "Brandon Williams, sir," the agent stated.

"Really? From the Williams property our friend Steven was just at?" Jacob looked at Sally as he stood up. She gulped, terrified. The agent looked at the address then nodded. "Well." Jacob put his hands on his hips. "Steven knows this guy. That changes everything." Jacob looked at the others. "After all, who am I to just kill one of Steven's best friends? That would be just... cruel." He grinned. One of the agents picked Brandon up bodily, deposited him in one of the chairs, and zip tied him to it.

"Yeah, this is turning into a real shindig. I think it's going to be a lot of fun. Don't you think?" He looked at his captives smiling broadly. "I think the star of our party will be here shortly. Then we'll all have some fun."

The glow on the other side of the hill got brighter and brighter as Steven approached it. He was in more familiar territory now and knew the trees much better. Asherah was still not saying anything and he was starting to vacillate back to being nuts, hearing voices, and hallucinating. He had gone back and forth so many times he was surprised he wasn't giving himself motion sickness. For a while he thought that maybe all these extraordinarily fantastical circumstances might have some truth to them, and then he would think that he's got some disorder where he's dreaming it all up. To believe or not to believe, the classic question for one who is questioning reality or the lack thereof. There were too many unanswered questions that lay directly in the realm of fantasy. Who else traveled by tree? And yet there were too many reasons to question the supplied explanations. After all, the meadow was just a meadow with a dead tree in the center. And aliens? Steven shook his head.

He finally arrived to the thinning of the forest and dropped out of the trees onto the ground. Brushing pine needles off his clothes, he trotted out onto the street and headed for the closest bus stop. It was late and he hoped he hadn't missed the last bus. Running on concrete jarred him so he slowed to a fast walk until he finally made it to the small structure that sheltered the bench. As he walked to it he noticed an elderly black man sitting there reading a newspaper.

Steven could hardly believe who he saw. "Brian?"

The man looked up and smiled. "Well hello, Steven. It's very good to see you."

"Oh, so likewise, Brian." Steven grinned and took Brian's extended hand. "I'm surprised to see you out this way."

"I have an unlimited pass so sometimes I just ride the routes to see where they go," Brian said, folding his newspaper up and looking at Steven. "Did you ever find a job?"

"Yeah. I ended up working for the apartment complex where I live and I manage the garden on the roof," Steven said. He had forgotten the garden and wondered if the residents were mad at him for not being there. But he had been unavoidably occupied. Of course, telling them that he couldn't deliver their tomatoes because someone was shooting at him would be pretty awkward. He would have to come up with some suitable excuse.

"That's just wonderful, Steven. I always knew you would find your place." His friend gave him a huge genuine smile. Steven was amazed at how outgoing this homeless man was.

"Well, it hasn't all been roses." Steven frowned.

"I can tell. It looks like you've been kicked around by a mule," Brian observed.

"I don't think it's over yet, either. They've been able to tell where I go. They could show up here even," Steven said, suddenly scared for his friend. Steven pulled out the scanner and sighed in relief. He had seen so many people associated with him die and suddenly felt an immense burden of guilt at placing them in mortal danger just by his presence. Brian looked at him and put his hand on his shoulder.

"Steven, never blame yourself for what bad people do. Ever. Do you understand me?" Brian said. Steven smiled weakly at him. He had been considering that Rachel would still be alive if he had not rushed over to Brandon's. "It's not your fault, Steven," Brian continued. Steven couldn't remember if he told him about Rachel or the other people dying because of him. He must have, however. Suddenly he was very tired.

"I feel that sometimes it is," Steven countered as the weight of his responsibility started to bear down on him. He could have stayed away from people, after all.

"Unless you are clairvoyant, you can't possibly predict what the bad guys will do. Are you clairvoyant, Steven?" Brian looked at him.

Steven shook his head. "But I should know when I do something that puts others in danger. I should have known, Brian."

Brian sat there for a moment. "Hindsight, Steven. Our lives are full of shoulda, coulda, wish I did this, wish I did that. If you obsess over that, it will drive you mad. Bad things happen and sometimes we find ourselves involved in what's going on. But always bear in mind that it's the bad people who are responsible. Not you," Brian said.

Steven nodded, wishing he could tell him more and wondering if he did tell him more if Brian would still say the same thing. He was going to respond when the bus pulled up. Maybe they'll discuss this later. Steven had a mission to accomplish. Brian sat there with his paper folded in his lap as Steven got on the bus. He waved and Steven waved back, then he resumed reading his paper, waiting for the next bus.

The apartment building was very quiet. The Mustang sat at the curb and Steven felt happy that Brandon remembered what building he lived in. He half wondered if Brandon would have forgotten since the time he gave Steven a ride home. He looked up and down the street but didn't see any SUVs or any heavily armed agents hiding in the shadows. But time was of the essence. If they were tracking him, he would have to get into their system and fake his position before they had a chance to nail him there. He rushed up the steps and into the apartment, looking at the scanner again and still not seeing any indication that he was being tracked. He almost bumped into Richard on his way in and yelped in surprise.

"Hey, bub, where have you been?" Richard said, equally surprised. He looked Steven up and down. "You look like crap."

"I've been in a pretty bad scrape, Richard," Steven explained. His mind raced madly trying to come up with something plausible to tell him. Steven wanted to try to keep what was really happening between just him and Brandon as much as possible. "I'm really sorry for not calling."

"The tenants have been bugging me about the their vegetables. I've had to go up there and try to pick what they ordered," Richard said.

"Really? How did it go?" Steven was impressed. Richard usually avoided his plants as if they were evil.

"Actually, it went better than I expected. I may just start learning more about gardening. Laura came up and helped too, by the way," Richard said, winking at Steven and smiling. Laura was a tenant that was particularly excited about the garden, and excited about Richard too. Steven grinned. More motivation for Richard to learn to garden.

He got serious and looked at Steven and his cuts and bruises. "You look like Hell warmed over, Steven. Why don't you take a few days to recover and I'll hold down the fort."

"Richard, I can't tell you how much I appreciate that!" Steven was truly impressed by his boss. He really needed a few days to regain his equilibrium and get things back under control.

"No problem, Steven." Richard clocked him on the shoulder and Steven winced. "Oops, sorry."

Steven rubbed his shoulder. "Don't worry. I'm going to bed now. I have a feeling I'll stay in bed for a while," Steven said as he walked into the elevator. Richard waved and Steven waved back as the elevator doors closed. A few days to execute his plans for payback would come in very handy too. Steven leaned against the elevator wall as it ascended toward the roof, looking forward to seeing his friend again.

"Now, I'm going to be totally up front with you." Laurence had just walked back into the cave after he climbed up again and sat on the stool facing Asherah, smiling amicably. He had scouted the area and determined they were alone. That was a plus toward his continued survival. He scooted his bench closer to Asherah and leaned forward until his face was just inches from hers. He could feel her breath as she continued gasping for air under the constriction of the zip tie around her neck. Still smiling, he continued, "Extensive research has determined that actual torture rarely extracts accurate results." He looked at her, trying to meet her averting gaze. "Hey, you understand me, don't you? Speaky English?" Laurence snapped his fingers in front of her face. "I think you do. Your physiology is responding to what I say, so I know you understand me."

Laurence sat up straight and stretched. His back was sore where she had gripped him and he wondered if she cracked a rib. Her grip was like a vice. "Well, I happen to agree with that research." He clasped his hands in his lap. "Torture for me has proven mainly recreational." Laurence grinned. "Of course, it's all in the mind of the subject." Laurence leaned closer to Asherah. "I think water-boarding has done wonders for my complexion, for instance. Don't you agree?" He turned his face to the left and right so she could see. "Smooth as a baby's bottom." Laurence smiled. "My captors weren't so lucky when they followed up on my... information." He sighed, "Ah, those were the days."

"But that brings us to a conundrum. You see, my captors should have known better. Torture either gets you what you want to hear, or what the subject wants you to hear, and either is rarely what you need to hear." Laurence looked down as his captive's body. She had a remarkable figure, with a full bosom, a thin, athletic build, and powerful looking hips. He knew for a fact how strong she was. Laurence found her short fur most fascinating, and even a bit alluring. But, they weren't to that point in the interrogation yet, and he didn't want to spoil a pristine alien specimen if he had a choice.

Laurence looked around at the cave. It was a spartan affair. A sleeping mat in the corner, bowls of mushrooms and dried fish hanging from the ceiling. Who would live like this on purpose when there were such lush jungles out there rich in fruit and fresh air? "You..." he looked back at her, "you're not here by choice, are you?" He got up, went to the ledge, and looked down. He had hidden the body but he tried to remember more about it. The alien that attacked him was obviously older than the girl. Laurence had wondered if the creature was somehow related to her. If she was sneaking around the forest on Earth trying to meet Steven, then she was either cheating on a husband, sneaking around on a father or brother, or sneaking around on a guard. He looked at her. A husband, father or brother would normally elicit a pretty intense emotional response when killed right in front of you. She reacted to the death, but more in the way of an acquaintance being killed than a relative or loved one.