Vestige (14 page)

“So, do you know where he is?”

“No, not really, but he didn’t disappear like the others. I think someone made him leave.”

“What do you mean?”

“When he said good-bye, he looked like he didn’t want to go,” said Micah.

“At least he said good-bye to you,” said Clarke.

“Mmm, yeah at least…”

“Maybe he’ll come back.”

“Maybe…. I’m tired. I think I’m gonna go to bed,” said Micah.

“Where should I sleep?” asked Clarke.

“Jess, are you guys going to sleep here?” Micah asked the two girls.

“Dah, Micah,” Amber answered.

“What about your parents, Jess? Won’t they be pissed if you stay out all night?” Micah asked.

“Um…no, they’ve been busy helping with the tagging. Besides they know I’m at your house,” said Jess.

“Jess….” Amber elbowed her friend in the side.

Micah didn’t notice Amber’s gesture, but Clarke did.

“I’ll get some blankets,” said Micah.

“Micah, where should I sleep?” Clarke asked again.

Any other night, Micah might have tried to make a move but not tonight. He had a lot to think about. He needed to be alone. He needed to get his thoughts straight. He needed…he needed his mom. “Um…I guess you can sleep in my parent’s room, or my brother’s, or…where ever is fine.” Micah looked at the floor.

“I’ll sleep in your brother’s room.” Clarke felt her cheeks get hot. That wasn’t the answer she expected.

“Yeah…right. It’s up here.” Micah led Clarke up the stairs.

That night Micah barely slept. If only he had taken his mother more seriously. But when his mom talked about the Apocalypse, she always talked as if they would be together. He couldn’t possibly survive this alone, could he? Yeah sure, he had his friends and Clarke, but they didn’t even know what was going on yet? Did anyone on earth know what was going on besides him? Yes…. Grimshaw knew. And who, exactly, was Grimshaw? Did Micah even want to know?

Chapter Fifteen

Two armed military guards stood at the entrance of the police station. Even though members of the clergy frequently visited prisoners, Thomas worried that under the circumstances, they wouldn’t let him in.

“Good morning. I’m here to administer communion and confession to the incarcerated,” said Thomas.

“You need to sign in, and then we’ll pat you down,” said the soldier stationed at the door. “Do you have your tag yet?”

“No…is that a problem?”

“It will be soon. Make sure you take care of that Father.”

“Yeah…sure, that’s on my to-do list for today.” Thomas could barely hold the pen steady in his sweat-soaked hand. To be on the safe side, he signed in as Father Vincent. Grimshaw already saw him once with the homeless man. He didn’t want to be accused of working with him.

“Lift your arms,” instructed the soldier. “We only have one person in custody. His name is Jon. He wouldn’t give us his last name. Jon is a suspect in the disappearances. He may be dangerous. Don’t let his crazy act fool you.” The soldier continued to talk as he ran his hands down Thomas’s torso and across his back. “Put your arms down and spread your legs shoulder-width apart." The soldier ran his hands up and down Thomas’s legs. “Private Garcia will escort you to his cell. He’ll remain outside the cell throughout your visit. If you have any problems, call him. If you cause any problems, you will be escorted out immediately, and your visiting privileges revoked.”

“I understand,” said Thomas.

“He’s clean,” the inspecting soldier said to Private Garcia. “You can take Father Vincent downstairs.”

As Thomas followed the soldier, he tried to keep his cool. Could Jon be an evil genius in disguise? Thomas had been at St. Francis for three years, and during that time, he saw Jon regularly. He never suspected that Jon was anything other than homeless and mentally ill.

Private Garcia stopped in front of a steel door and knocked. “You have a visitor. Step back from the door.” The soldier unlocked the door and readied his weapon. He nodded at Thomas, signaling him to enter. “Once you’re in, I’m going to lock the door again. Knock when you’re ready to leave.”

Thomas entered the cell and the door closed behind him. Jon sat on his cot, facing the wall. Huh, the homeless man was surrounded by a white aura just like the dog.

“Hello Jon. Do you remember me from yesterday? I’m Father Thomas from St. Francis. I guess I’m um…your…replacement.”

Jon turned to face Thomas. He stared at him for a moment and then stood.

“I have some questions,” said Thomas.

“Did you find the Guardian? Bob said he showed you where to find him.”

“I don’t know…I…. What do the lights mean?”

“Ahh, you can see the lights. That’s good. That will help you. Beware of the dark ones. They are rotten on the inside. All the white lights and some of the colored lights are gone.”

“Do you mean the people with the white and colored lights?”

“Yes, yes. God took all of them. They are home.” Jon looked to the ceiling and closed his eyes.

“I see a white light around you,” said Thomas.

Jon smiled. “I’m still here because I had a job to do.”

“So all the people here, other than you, have dark lights?”

“And you. When I first met you, father, your light was murky, almost black. Now, it’s a light gray, almost white. Lights can change. As long as you don’t receive the mark of the beast, you can be saved.”

“And the mark of the beast is the tag?”

“666, the mark of the beast. Resist the mark.” Jon wagged his finger at Thomas.

Thomas rubbed his temples with his fingertips. “But the tag is just a barcode.”

“666, it’s there. Read it. Read it.”

Thomas looked at Jon and swallowed hard. Did he want the answer to his next question? “And the beast is the—”

“The antichrist.” Jon fidgeted. He seemed to be annoyed by Thomas’s questions.

“Are you telling me that Grimshaw is the antichrist?” asked Thomas.

“He’s the beast. He looks like a god and speaks beautiful words, but he is evil. He is the end.”

Could this be happening? Thomas didn’t want to believe any of it. But it all fit so neatly like an impossible puzzle, every piece falling into place. “What about the golden light? What does that mean?”

“Oh…yes…the golden light. Beautiful, isn’t it? When I first saw it, I didn’t understand either. It belongs to the Guardian. Can you believe that when I used to see the kid, I thought he was bad?” Jon shook his head and laughed. “But then I learned the truth. He’s the only one who can defeat the beast.” Jon paused and scratched his unshaven chin. “Father, I get why you’re surprised by the lights, but I don’t get why you don’t know about the beast. It’s all in the bible. It’s all in Revelations.”

“But the Guardian is just a kid,” said Thomas.

“So you found him.” Jon clapped his hands together and smiled. “Good. He doesn’t know who he is. His mother was supposed to prepare him, but she didn’t tell him everything.”

“Okay, for now, let’s say I believe all this. How can a kid defeat the…the antichrist?”

“The Truth—” Jon put his index finger up as if he was going to give a speech but then dropped it. In a flash, his demeanor changed. He scurried back to his cot. “He’s coming. You need to go, or he will hurt you too.”

“Who’s coming? Jon, has someone threatened to hurt you?”

“The beast, but don’t worry, Father. He can’t tag me unless I’m willing. Bob will come for me before the beast can devour my soul.” Jon returned to the corner. He rocked back and forth and began to mumble his trademark bible verses.

“Do you want me to hear your confession?” Thomas asked.

Jon didn’t answer.

Thomas knocked on the door. Garcia opened it, and the two men headed back the way they came.

“Private Garcia, will anyone else visit Jon today?” Thomas asked.

“The secretary of homeland security will be here in a few minutes,” answered the soldier.

“Jon seems to think he’s in danger.”

“He
is
a terrorist.”

Thomas shivered at the soldier’s response. It sure sounded as if they had already convicted him. Did Jon even get to talk to a lawyer? Whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty?

Instead of going back to the rectory, Thomas made his way to Palmer’s. He needed a drink. Once there, he took a seat in the corner.

“What can I get you, padre?” said the twenty-something waitress.

“I’ll have a beer and a burger.”

“Sorry, no food. Only drinks. Oh and there is a two-drink limit. Until everyone is tagged, the government won’t give us any new supplies. We’re lucky they only took the food. They let us keep the alcohol. I guess they want to keep everyone drunk and happy.”

“Okay…I’ll have a black and tan.”

“Be right back.” The waitress was only gone a moment before she returned with a plain old glass of beer. She must have been sick of telling people what they could and couldn’t order.

As Thomas sipped his drink, he tried to make sense out of what Jon had told him. Jon clearly believed that the Rapture had occurred and the Tribulation had begun. People throughout history have believed that the End Times was at hand. Thomas wasn’t surprised that the current events could awaken this fear in many. He could logically process all of that. But logic fell apart when Thomas thought about his dreams and the kid with the golden light. Sure, dreams are dreams, but he couldn’t ignore what he saw with his own two eyes while he was awake. He saw the golden light for Pete’s sake!

By the time he finished his first beer, he figured that he had two choices: pretend none of this happened, get tagged, and go about his business or talk to this so-called Guardian.

Thomas ordered his second beer, and he weighed his options. He had always thought that Jon was mentally ill, but could he be a criminal instead? By associating with him, Thomas might become a suspect in the disappearances. But what harm could come from talking to the kid? None, unless the kid was a criminal too, and Thomas was being set up.

As he chugged the last of his beer, he made up his mind. He would talk to the kid. Maybe he would come across as crazy and maybe not, but at least he’d have some peace of mind.

*****

Within minutes of the priest leaving, Jon heard footsteps approaching once again. Only this time, he could feel the depravity of his next visitor grow with each beat. The door unlocked and swung open. Grimshaw entered the cell.

“Hello, my friend. How are you today?” Grimshaw asked

“I’m not your friend.” Jon cowered in the corner.

“It doesn’t have to stay that way Jon. I can help you, and you can help me.”

“I won’t tell you where he is…I won’t do it.”

“Actually, I want to talk to you about your tag. I know how hard your life has been Jon. I can make it better. If you receive a tag, you’ll never wonder again where your next meal will come from or where you will sleep.”

“My reward is in heaven. Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness' sake: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”

“Jon, Jon, Jon.” Grimshaw shook his head and made a tsking sound. “What has God done for you lately?” Grimshaw crossed the room and sat down on the bed. “He has burdened you with the impossible task of preaching in an age when no one is listening. You do know that they all think you’re insane. They laugh at you, and of course, now, they think you’re a terrorist. They believed me when I told them you were responsible for the disappearances.” Grimshaw paused. “I can make them believe anything. I could even make them think that you are my oldest and dearest friend.”

“God will not forsake me,” said Jon.

“God stood by and did nothing as his own son was tortured and murdered. What makes you think He’ll help you?”

“He will, He will, He will…” Jon covered his ears with his hands and shook his head.

“I can see that you’re not a man of reason. I guess I’ll have to try a different approach.” Grimshaw reclined on the bed and rested his head on his fist.

A dagger of pain pulsed through Jon’s teeth. His hands flew up to his cheeks, and he cried out in agony.

“You see Jon, I not only have the power to help you, but I have the power to crush you.”

“Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name,” Jon prayed as tears streamed down his cheeks.

“Hmm, not enough? I’ve heard kidney stones are excruciating.”

Jon fell to his side and doubled up from the pain.

“How are you doing Jon? Is God helping you yet?” asked Grimshaw.

“I won’t tell you where he is,” Jon muttered.

“Oh, I know where he is. I‘ve known for a while. Believe it or not, his father tipped me off. I’m sure that wasn’t the old man’s intention when he pulled that trigger. Regardless, it was a lucky break; saved me quite a bit of time. I have some friends keeping an eye on him for me.

“You know, Jon, maybe God has abandoned you because you didn’t do your job? That kid has no idea who he is, or who I am.”

Jon continued to pray through his tears, but Grimshaw was getting to him. Maybe he had disappointed God.

“Now, how about that tag? You’ll be free of the thankless assignment God has given you, and I will make sure you get a light sentence for your terrorist activities. Maybe I can even pin the disappearances on someone else. Maybe I can pin it on that kid,” said Grimshaw.

Jon turned his eyes toward Grimshaw. Even with the black light, Grimshaw looked perfect. His skin was smooth, not a single wrinkle. His hair compared to no other. His eyes were gentle and soothing, and his smile—so beautiful. But Jon could still feel the ugliness of his soul. He couldn’t submit. He would hold on to his faith. God would save him. “No, I will never be yours.”

Grimshaw rose to his feet and stood in front of Jon. All his artificial kindness melted away. Now, Jon could see his true form in all its wretchedness. The beast’s stygian eyes bulged as his skin shriveled around the sockets. His stalwart frame became gaunt. He took on the appearance of death itself. His black lips curled upwards into a grin exposing his yellowish-brown teeth. His breath smelled of sour earth and mildew.