The Devil's Dream: Waking Up (4 page)

Henry laughed. "And what does it make you? Because that's exactly what you're telling me to do."

"I don't really give a shit, man. You think you'll be the one to stop this guy? I remember what he did my freshman year. Unstoppable. That's what they called him, and even after they killed him, he still came back. So, you think if Henry Werzen shows up, acting like some kind of long lost child, that's going to make a difference? No. No chance, man. Whether or not you team up with them on this, Brand is going to do what Brand is going to do and hopefully someone gets lucky enough to stop him."

"
They're
saying it's the best chance. Not me, Greg. I wasn't sitting at home one day and thought that they should use me as bait. They brought me out here. They're saying it might stop him; do you know more than they do?" Henry asked.

His brother was quiet for a minute and Henry could see Greg, in his mind, clenching his eyes shut the way he did when someone wasn't listening to him, wasn't
understanding
as he wanted them to. "I don't know what they know, but I do know that they don't have to put this on you. I do know that you don't have to accept it, either. You can tell them no and they'll figure something else out, and you don't have to..."

"Say it," Henry said when the phone went silent.

"You don't have to have our mother bury her first born son. A husband is enough."

Henry sat down on the bed, quiet for a few seconds and then lay all the way back, his feet still hanging off. "What if I can help, Greg? What if I can help more than someone else could? What if I tip this thing in the FBI's balance? And if I don't show up, and they don't find Brand before he does this shit, do you want to watch mom die? Because that's what will happen. She'll die before us because she's older, and we'll still be here another month or two, probably unable to bury her because we won't even be able to see to dig a hole. Do you want to sit around and smell her?"

"Shut up," Greg said.

"I'm just saying. It's not an impossible scenario."

"You're all I have," Greg blurted out. "You and mom. That's it. They're going to take you away; that's what they're trying to do and you're letting them. They're going to get you killed and you're going to do it thinking about...I don't know, thinking about people other than your family."

Henry remembered what his mother had said.
"I'm thinking about my kids. About the kids you're going to have. If I can help, I have to, because it's more than us, it's who we will bring into the world."

"There's nothing I can say to change your mind, huh? Nothing that's going to make you not go? Mom gave you her blessing and the decision is final. That about right?"

Henry didn't want to say yes, but he couldn't say no. Greg was right. He had made up his mind maybe even before calling his mother. Certainly by the time he had gotten off the phone with her. This was an informational call—not a discussion.

"I guess you not answering is your way of saying yes. Fine. Bye."

"Hello? Hello?" Henry said but no one answered him.

* * *

S
weating and aching
, Matthew stepped down from the ladder. All seven now hung in their spots. Perfectly. Just as he had planned it a year ago.

That was another difference between Art and himself. Matthew planned. Art reacted. Sure, he had Jake, but he was a breeze inside a tornado. They didn’t have a plan, not really. Maybe this kid, thing, and maybe not. Maybe they just lucked into that, and the more Matthew thought about it, the more he liked the idea. The tower in front of him was perfect, something no one else could do—ever…but, well, that was planned. He had seen it in his head and then created it on Earth, just as he did with the rest of his life. This kid though, that was different. This kid, that could be something special.

The situation would be win-win for Matthew, and Art didn’t realize it. Art thought they might be able to trap him, but that wasn’t happening this time. No Dillan to get in the way. No pride to trip him up. No, Art was making a mistake whichever he sliced it. If Matthew did have a child, then all the better, and if he didn’t, someone else was going to die and Matthew would be more than happy to help pin that badge of horror on Art’s wall.

Morgant was a problem, sure, but all in all, things were looking okay. Just fine. Just as planned.

* * *

H
enry left
the hotel wearing the only suit he brought, having changed his shirt and tie. He didn't think any of the people he was about to meet with would care one way or the other. If he showed up in sweatpants and a Penn State t-shirt, they probably wouldn’t notice. Much larger things concerned them than Henry's attire.

He climbed into the black car that waited for him. The driver didn't say anything and neither did Henry. He didn't know the man in the front seat, so what could he really say? Henry could give him a
'Hi'
, maybe talk about the weather, or how he liked his job, or any number of inconsequential things. None of it mattered though outside of just being polite. Henry found it humorous that he didn't feel like speaking to the gentleman, but was about to risk his life so that this guy could continue living.
I'm not going to talk to you, but I might die for you.

He barely slept last night. He closed his eyes for a long time, but that didn't help. Eventually he just opened them and stared off the side of the bed. His brother was right about everything, but yet, wrong too. Henry shouldn't leave his mother, shouldn't leave Greg, shouldn't leave either of them. He should be there, be the person they leaned on even if only by knowing that he was there. His mom said it best though: their family wasn't bigger than the world. Their family mattered, but not in the larger view of the world—their family was inconsequential in the view. Greg could go on and on about how Henry should stay, should refuse to go along with the FBI, should remain the stalwart of the family, and he'd be correct
if
the world didn't need Henry. If the world didn't have use of him right now.

Greg hadn't called back and Henry hadn't redialed him. That scared Henry. He didn’t know what Brayden's plan consisted of, and he had just ended a conversation with his brother in perhaps the worst way possible. Would he have a chance to call again? Or would they simply erase his past, not allowing him to reach out to anyone until this thing was over? He couldn't let that happen, or at least, he'd have to join on the condition that he could call Greg once more before the whole thing kicked off. He needed to set things right between the two of them. He needed to...what? Ask for Greg's understanding? His forgiveness? Maybe. He just had to make sure that Greg wasn't angry, that Henry didn't ship off with his brother mad at him. He would serve the world, but in his own life, he only had his mother and brother.

The car pulled up to the curb and the driver got out. Henry watched him walk around the back of the car, unsure whether he should wait for him to open the car door or just go ahead and get out. He didn't like waiting on someone to
wait
on him. It felt unnatural, phony. He waited though, not wanting to make the man's walk a complete waste.

"Thanks," he said as he stepped out onto the curb, the first words mentioned to the man he had been two feet away from for the past ten minutes.

The driver nodded. "My pleasure," he said.

Henry looked up the steps that led to the building. Art Brayden stood at the top of them. Henry glanced at his watch; the time said fifteen till eight. The Director of Operations was waiting on him, too. Best not to keep him.

* * *

J
ake watched
Art and Henry walk through the door. Art had gone to meet him out front.

"Why?"

"It's polite," Art said.

"Do you know how many times you've cursed me out?" Jake asked.

"You know how many times you've fucked up? This kid doesn't have a single fuck up to his name yet, so he gets the red carpet treatment. Plus, you don't count."

Henry looked scared to Jake. He looked like he might have just seen someone run down by a car out on the street, not someone he knew, but a stranger—seen just enough to rattle him good. Jake didn't like the look; Werzen hadn't met Brand yet, hadn't been face to face with him and already looked shaken. Did they have the right guy for this? Jake wrestled with the question for most of the previous night, unable to find an answer. He thought about calling Art, but knew it would be pointless—Art didn't know either. No one knew. This was, as Art might say, in God's hands. Neither of them could know the answer until the kid sat down in front of Brand, until he...

Until he lived or died.

Jake stood up and put his hand forward. "How are ya?"

"I'm good," Henry said, obviously a polite lie. No one in this room felt good. Everyone was stressed to the limit.

"I imagine you didn't sleep too well?" Art asked.

"I've had better nights," Henry answered.

"They probably won't get any better for a time. Thanks for coming in this morning. I won't say that your country thanks you for it, because your country doesn't know you're here. I appreciate it though, and I know Jake does too. We don't have any time to waste though, so I'll just cut to it," Art said. "Do you have an answer for us?"

Jake knew Art hadn't slept either, but not because he'd been up wondering about unanswerable questions.

When Jake showed up this morning, Art was just pulling away from his computer. "I scoured the FBI personnel. I wanted to make sure we weren't missing anyone in case he tells us no."

Jake had cocked his head at Art. "You didn't sleep at all?"

"No. I made sure the next four candidates were the ones we wanted."

Jake didn't say anything else; he had been lying in bed while Art poured over pictures and resumes.

"Would you do it?" he had asked instead. "If you were in his position?"

"Take the job?" Art said.

"Yeah."

Art looked down at his feet. "At his age? Maybe. But he's got an aging mother, no pops, and a younger brother, so maybe not. Would you?" He looked up.

"I...I'd like to think so, but I don't know for sure."

Art smiled. "You like looking in at death as long as there's some bulletproof glass between you and it, huh? Not sure you'd like to step over on the other side of the glass?"

He knew Art was joking, but also knew Art had hit on the truth. If not directly, then close. Jake wanted to be in the chase, but he didn't want to
be
chased. He wanted the glory, but not the guts, and that bothered him. He thought about that last night, too. What would he do if he had been asked? No, he wouldn't go. He knew that his father would, if it were asked of him, but Jake wouldn't be able to. He'd say no...because of simple fear. He didn’t want to walk into The Devil's mouth.

"Luckily you're the brains and not the brawn," Art had said.

There wasn’t time to think about that conversation from earlier this morning anymore, nor to consider what he would do. Now it was time to hear the only answer that mattered, not Art's or Jake's, but Henry's.