Time Spent (22 page)

He went to his father's bedside and sat
beside him, taking Vernon's hand in his. Vernon turned bleary eyes
on him, flecks of gray spittle on his chin.

"My boy," he said in hoarse rasp. "At times
like these, it can feel very much like God has abandoned me."

Zachary looked down, tears welling in his
eyes.

"But, Zachary..." He stopped, his body
wracked with another cough. After it had passed, Vernon lifted his
hand to cup Zachary's cheek. "I look at you, and I know you are a
gift from God. I
know
it. God will never abandon us. Never.
So long as you keep Him in your heart."

Zachary nodded, wiping a tear from his
eye.

Eventually, the coughing fit passed, and
Vernon was again able to sleep. Zachary made sure he was covered
up, and returned to his own bed. He was not able to sleep again
that night.

______________________

On the far side of the wreckage, they found
Becca shouting at Zachary, with a red-haired girl looking on. Max
released his hold on Tyler and Marcus, allowing them to
reappear.

"Hey, what's going on?" Tyler said.

"Where did you come from?" asked the
redhead.

"Give me a minute," Becca said. "I'm a
little busy tearing Blondie a new one."

Marcus put a hand on Tyler's shoulder. "Hey,
uh, did anyone notice these guys with metal faces?"

There were several of the cyber-zombies
surrounding them, wandering the room aimlessly.

"They were soldiers. I think Brock did this
to them," Tyler said.

The redhead gave him a wide-eyed look.
"Brock was here? Where is he?"

Tyler shrugged. "Last I saw him, he was
following Mia."

"Please don't tell me that Neanderthal is
your boyfriend," Becca said.

"What if he is?"

"Oh God, I think I just threw up in my mouth
a little."

Suddenly one of the cyber-zombies stopped
cold, cocked its head, and Brock's voice emerged.
"primaryhostdisabled. secondaryhostengaged."

"Fuck, here we go again," Becca said.

Its body went through the same
transformation Becca and Tyler had seen before, shifting and
mutating, growing in size and sprouting metal shapes that wrapped
around it, until it was a complete duplicate of Brock.

"systemstandby. Man, FUCK those lezbo
BITCHES. systemstanbymode."

"Brock, baby!" The redhead ran to him,
putting her arms around him. "What happened to you?"

"facialrecognitionengaged. TIFFANY? Is that
YOU? I thought you were DEAD. performinganalysis.
analysisincomplete. anomalousenergydetected."

She hugged him. "I was. I think we all
were."

Becca grabbed Zachary. "Okay, Rain Man,
you're on deck. You want to give someone a message?" She pointed at
Brock. "There's your guy."

She shoved him forward.

Rather than deliver the message to Brock,
however, Zachary turned on Becca.

"Stop making fun of me," he said.

"What, you mean Rain Man?" She laughed. "I
actually thought that was kind of a compliment, to be-"

"STOP MAKING FUN OF ME!" Zachary reached out
a finger. The red glow flared in his chest and ripped down his arm
to jump from his finger to Becca's chest. A violent eruption threw
her backwards, her body landing on the ground.

"Becca!" Tyler ran to her side,
kneeling.

"People always make fun of me!" Zachary
shouted. "But God picked me to save the world! Not you! ME!"

"Zachary, she's not moving." Tyler was
leaning over her, examining her. Charred flesh covered Becca's neck
and shoulders. "I think you killed her."

"What?" Zachary's bottom lip quivered.
"No...no, I don't kill people. I help people. God sent me to help
people."

"Well then HELP HER," Tiffany shouted.

Zachary moved beside Becca, lowering himself
to his knees. He placed his hands on her chest. Seconds passed. He
lifted his hands and placed them again, concentrating.

"Nothing's happening," Tyler said.

"I don't know why," Zachary said. "I'm
trying..."

"I thought you always asked God to do it,
and it just happened."

Zachary looked as if he had been slapped. "I
forgot," he said. "I forgot to ask God."

"Let me try something." Tyler stood, looking
intently down on Becca's body.

With an audible WHOOSH, Becca's body
dissolved, scattering like dust before a breeze. Tyler turned,
gazing into empty space.

"What did you do?" Tiffany covered her mouth
with her hand.

"Hush! I've never tried this before." Tyler
concentrated, and in the empty space in front of him the dust came
together, swirling and gathering, coalescing into a human form. In
a flash Becca's skin and clothes reappeared, and she sucked in air,
staggering into his arms.

"Becca?" Tyler lifted her face. "Are
you...you?"

"Oh...oh my god..." She wrapped her arms
around him. "Thank you. Oh my god, thank you!!"

"It's okay. It's going to be okay."

Zachary was silent. He sat down on the floor
and said nothing.

Wind picked up outside, banging the hanging
shreds of the hangar walls. There was a distant barking sound.

Tyler turned from Becca. "What is it,
Max?"

Becca listened. "He says there's something
happening downtown."

Brock's satellite dishes spun.
"alertalertalert. It's HER. We need to get there FAST.
destinationsetnavigationengaged."

"Her who?" Tyler asked.

"Come on," Tiffany said, following Brock.
"We have to go."

Tyler shook his head. "I'm not going
anywhere except home!"

Marcus grabbed his arm. "Come on! We have to
go now!"

"You too? What is this?" But Marcus was
wrapping his arm in Tyler's and dragging him along, pulling Becca,
who was still weak, along with them.

Zachary sat on the floor, feeling abandoned,
and alone.

"God?" he asked. "Are you here? Where are
you?"

He felt his body shift, becoming out of
phase with the hangar around him. It wasn't God's doing, however:
Max had returned, using his power to make Zachary a ghost like him.
He licked Zachary's face.

"Oh, Max...what am I gonna do?"

Max turned, started to move toward one of
the remaining walls, and then turned back. He clearly wanted
Zachary to follow.

"Okay, Max. Okay." Zachary stood and
followed him through the wall.

______________________

The woman beamed a kind, beatific smile at
him. She looked nothing like Zachary had ever expected, with her
beautiful face and alabaster skin, but he knew in his heart who she
was.

"You're the Devil," Zachary said, trembling
with fear.

She placed a finger over her red lips.
"SHHH..." The long fingernail glistened with red polish. "IT'S ALL
RIGHT ZACHARY."

She spoke with the sound of souls screaming
in endless torment, the crack of flesh burning in fire and freezing
in ice. In her eyes were the deaths of countless worlds, and
despite their friendly twinkle, they were the coldest, most cruel
eyes he had ever seen.

Zachary recoiled from her as she moved
closer, nearly brushing up against him.

"WE MUST SPEAK, ZACHARY," she said. "WE MUST
SPEAK ON MANY THINGS."

"No..." He pulled back, but Zachary could
not escape her.

"YOU WILL SEE." She raised a finger to touch
his forehead. "YOU WERE MEANT TO KNEEL BEFORE ME. YOU WERE ALWAYS
ONE OF THE LOST."

She touched her crimson fingernail to his
forehead. Red light exploded in his mind, and Zachary saw...

"Can I help you?"

For a moment, Vernon Wells couldn't speak.
The sight of the woman framed in the open door had taken his breath
away.

"Yes." He swallowed. "Yes, ma'am." He held
out a pamphlet to her. "I'm out. I'm, excuse me." He cleared his
throat.

She was lovely, with flowing red hair
framing her face, high cheekbones and penetrating eyes. They were
green, he thought, although sometimes it almost seemed they were
red.
Catching the light off her hair
, he thought.

He began again. "I'm out today meeting with
people and bringing the word of God into their lives. Do you have a
relationship with Jesus?"

Her dark red lips parted, glistening in the
sun. "Of course."

Vernon was delighted. This was the first
positive response he had received today. Usually, people had
already closed the door by this point. He did his best to forgive
them, for he knew God would want him to do so, but it was
wearisome. Sin was so rampant in this world.

"Wonderful. Do you think I could take up
just a bit of your time to share God's blessings with you?"

"Come right in," she said, stepping back. He
stepped in to her home, small and modest much like his own. She
gestured to the right, pointing to a small breakfast nook adjacent
to the kitchen. Vernon sat in one of the four chairs, the young
woman pulling a chair up to sit close to him. His nostrils caught a
whiff of scent as she did so, an alluring perfume that spread
through his head and filled him with a sensation that he was
walking through a lush meadow filled with flowers.

"That's a lovely scent," he said.

"Thank you." Her eyes were so striking,
gazing into his. Were they green, or red? Surely the light in here
was not bright enough to play tricks on him.

He reached out again with the pamphlet and
she took his hand immediately, slipping the pamphlet away but
clasping his fingers in hers. Cool, silky skin played across his
palm.

"Your hands are rough," she said, the corner
of her mouth turning up playfully.

"Oh, yes." He felt that he should probably
pull his hand back, but her touch was so soothing. "I work with my
hands all day, construction crews and some handyman jobs, home
repairs and such."

"I like it." She held his hand in both of
hers and stroked it back and forth.

"It's...I...yes, the work...I'm..." He
yanked his hand back. "Please, forgive me, my manners, I'm so...my
name is Vernon. Vernon Wells. It's very pleasure to...pleasing, I
mean...I'm pleased to meet you."

When she answered, he found she was much
closer than he had thought. Without his being aware of it, she had
slid to the edge of her chair, close enough for him to feel her
breath play across his lips. Her eyes filled his vision, and they
were a dark, dazzling red. "GWENDOLYN," she said.

"That's a lovely..." His voiced trailed
away.

Her lips met his, cool and smooth, and her
hands were inside his shirt, running silky fingers across his
chest. She slid on top of him, never moving her mouth from his, her
tongue slipping between his teeth to probe his mouth. Vernon's eyes
closed involuntarily, his head rolling back, receiving her kisses
and allowing her touch as though he had no other choice, his mind
utterly blank.

Her red eyes bore into him as her hands
artfully undid the button of his pants and zipped them down. When
her hand wrapped around his cock he gasped, but did not object. She
moved her thighs over his hips, slipping her skirt up. She wore no
panties. Deftly, she slipped him inside her as she dropped
down.

Vernon's eyes were closed, his mind blank.
As she pinned him in the chair, fucking him harder and faster, her
scent filled his nostrils. It covered the smell of dead flesh,
gently wafting from the living room.

Vernon never knew of the man and woman lying
there, cut open from neck to groin.

Months later, Gwendolyn carefully placed her
child in the basket. She wrote the note, placed it in the envelope,
and gently pinned the envelope to the baby's blankets. The words on
the envelope had already been written:

VERNON,

HE IS YOUR CHILD. PLEASE CARE FOR HIM.

When she reached Vernon Wells' home, she set
the basket down on the porch, and leaned over it to gaze into her
child's blue eyes. Her fingers teased his tuft of blonde hair.

"GOODBYE FOR NOW, ZACHARY."

Zachary cooed.

"GOODBYE..." She laughed. "IT MEANS GOD BE
WITH YE. BUT GOD HAS ABANDONED YOU, HASN'T HE ZACHARY? HE WON'T BE
WITH YOU. BUT I WILL BE."

Zachary felt unsettled, but did not know
why. He gurgled, and began to cry.

"I'LL ALWAYS BE WITH YOU."

Gwendolyn stood and rang the doorbell.

On the rooftop, Zachary recoiled from the
red woman's touch.

"No..."

She approached him, her arms wide, prepared
to embrace him.

"No!" Zachary shook his head. "You're
the...you're the Devil! You're not my...you're not...NO!"

She drew closer, and Zachary backed up. His
heel caught the edge of the rooftop, and he tumbled away from her,
into the air, head over heels.

"NOOOO!"

He plummeted backwards through space,
falling into the alley between buildings. He fell for what seemed
like forever, the red woman's face above him, looking down on him
with her glowing red eyes.

Zachary's head struck the pavement with a
terrible CRACK.

Some time later, his eyes opened. He was
lying on his back, rain falling into his face. He was cold, wet,
and alone. Looking around, he began to stand, but then the memories
flooded back. As usual he had forgotten everything after the bus
crash, except that now memories of the rooftop joined them.

Zachary backed against the wall and fell to
the ground, drawing up his legs in front of him. "No, no, no. Not
my momma, no." He searched around for his old Bible for a moment
before remembering: it was lost, in the bus crash, lost at the
bottom of the river.

Zachary cast his eyes to the sky, rain
dripping into them, clouding his vision. "God, where are you? Where
are you?"

There was no reply.

"I have to be brave. Be brave...." He
cowered against the wall, clutching his legs to his chest.