Chapter Eleven

The freeway traffic thinned out as jungles of concrete buildings gave way to overgrown forests and muddy rivers. Gazing through the back window, Paige noticed two airplanes flying overhead spraying red smoke into the air in a tic-tac-toe pattern. Confused by what she saw, she turned to ask Ashley, but Michael’s tired voice spoke first, pleading with the professor to switch out the CD.

“I like REM, but give us a break. Automatic depresses the crap outta me.”

Her light bulb popped on. Automatic for the People, she thought, of course! How could I forget that album? A coinsure of pop culture, Paige tried recalling the names of other bands and favorite albums, but aside from Limbo Diver (and The Beatles’ Abbey Road), nothing else came to mind. Professor Faraday turned off the music, slowed the van down and yelled for Michael’s assistance.

“I need you up and alert, pronto! CMC’s!”

Michael’s head popped up just as they reached the checkpoint. Everyone righted themselves and prepared to deal with the all too often, under trained and overly aggressive Civilian Military Counterpart Officers. Although she had nothing to hide, Paige shook with nerves. The professor stopped the van and rolled down his window as the officers approached, but when the CMC’s drew closer, perhaps not liking the looks of the bearded professor, their intentions became to act now and talk later. With their weapons drawn, they circled the van and ordered everyone out. The six passengers obliged. Piling out of the van, they held up their hands as guns directed them onto the shoulder. Handcuffed and patted down, they waited while the CMC’s searched the van. Standing tall with his shoulders back and head held high, the professor wore a look of patriotic indignation. Abbey sat crossed-legged on the ground and gazed up at the sky, the red tic-tac-toe clouds expanding overhead. Kendal, Ashley and Michael stood with slumped shoulders and shifted their weight from side to side, eyeing the CMC’s as they rummaged through their belongings. Paige, angrier than scared, wriggled around and loudly voiced her opinion.

“We haven’t done anything wrong!” she exclaimed. “You’re not stopping anyone else! What about all those people?”

“Shut up, Paige,” Michael hissed.

One of the officers searching the van returned to fetch Professor Faraday. Pulling him aside, he inquired about the items they found. The professor eyed the contents in the officer’s gloved hands: one hypodermic needle, one cellophane bag containing a white powder and about an ounce of marijuana. He cleared his throat and pleaded the fifth, reminding the officer of his right to remain silent. The officer slammed him against the van.

“That option is dull and void,” he said through clinched teeth, “and so are you.”

Smiling, the professor replied, “I believe you mean null and void.”

The officer grabbed the handcuffed professor into a chokehold, threw him to the ground and kicked him in the stomach. Paige yelled out in protest but stopped when a bright red light exploded around Michael, Ashley and Kendal electrifying the air. Snow melted beneath their feet and the officers reacted to the invisible heat source, wiping their foreheads and looking around confused. The officer who bullied Professor Faraday fell to his knees and keeled over unconscious, but strangest of all, right before her eyes, about half a mile away, blackbirds fell from the sky and spiraled to the ground. Everyone fell silent as the mass death unfolded and littered the road ahead until the last unfortunate bird dropped. Stepping forward, Michael seized control of the situation.

“Is all of this really necessary?”

The leader of the five remaining officers yelled for him to get back. Aiming his gun at Michael, he flexed his padded muscle with his bulletproof frame eager to pounce.

“Don’t ruffle up them feathers,” Michael said. “How about we make a deal? You let us go and I’ll keep your dirty little secrets to myself.”

The officer tightened his grip. “Son, ain’t nothin’ stoppin’ me from pullin’ this trigger.”

Michael smiled and stepped closer to the offending officer. “First of all Joe, I’m pretty sure I’m twice your age, so you’ll refer to me as sir, and secondly, you won’t pull that trigger. You’re too busy thinking about what you want to do to me in a more private setting.”

“I wouldn’t laugh so freely Marcus,” he said, turning to a second officer. “I wonder if your colleagues here know about your part-time job selling confiscated drugs, like those there, or better yet, keeping the score for yourself.”

Professor Faraday stood from the ground and inched closer to Ashley. The CMC’s appeared like toy soldiers, frozen in place and fixated on Michael as he raised his voice to the captivated audience.

“Corruption runs deep don’t it boys? Danny over there knows all about corruption, ain’t that right, Danny Boy? Guess he’s still dull and void at the moment. Hell, we ain’t even found the fattest skeleton yet! Reverend Ed’s got a sermon he’d like to preach! Ain’t that right, Ed?” Lunging forward, Officer Ed pressed his gun against Michael’s forehead.

“Now Reverend, shooting me is the wrong answer.” Lowering his voice, he warned, “You’d be wise to let us go. I’ve been real nice up until now, but in all honesty, Ed, I have little tolerance for men like you.” The red glow shrouding Michael darkened. “Do unto others, Reverend, but men like you hide behind your religion. Men like you exploit the flock, but there’s a place for men like you.” Closing his eyes, Michael threw his head back and swayed from side to side, chanting, “You are with fire, son, please don’t do this. You are with fire, son, please don’t do this. You are with–”

“Enough!”

Laughing, Michael stepped closer and whispered in his ear, “Those were her dying words, weren’t they? Honor thy mother, Reverend, one of the Ten Commandments, but you didn’t do that, did you? She says she forgives you, but Reverend, your soul is damned.”

The officer stepped back and steadied his aim. Michael’s green eyes stalked him.

“You don’t need another murder under your bloated belt,” he said. “This would be a good time to get right with God, less you drop dead like those birds over there. Last chance, Reverend.”

The officer flinched back and stumbled out of the way, his swollen face drained of color as he bulged his eyes at the famous musician. Blood poured from Michael’s wrists, dripping off his fingertips in a slow and steady stream and forming a small puddle around his green army boots.

“Who are you?” the reverend whispered, staring at the growing puddle.

“Lower your weapon,” Michael replied. “We’d like to cross the bridge.”

The officer stepped around the blood and approached Michael from the other side. His hands trembled as he pressed the gun against his head. His voice mimicked his hands. “My mother, you said she forgives me, how do you… is this true?”

Michael grinned and glanced at the sky.

The officer twitched and blinked his eyes as the corners of his mouth drooped to his chin. He lowered his weapon and mouthed an inaudible order, the gun dangling by his side while he gathered his senses. He repeated the order with more force.

“Let ‘em go!”

The red glow faded as Michael smiled and said, “I knew you wouldn’t let me down. Now take these cuffs off, they’re rubbing me absolutely raw.” The officer approached Michael with gloved hands and cautiously set him free, obeying without protest when the false prophet instructed him to hand over the confiscated goods. Although tempted to stay behind, Paige followed the others and piled into the van, rubbing her wrists as she hurried past the CMC’s.

Professor Faraday peeled away from the scene and gripped the wheel with both hands while he steered into traffic. Passing motorists honked and hit the brakes as he cut them off and fishtailed into their lane, holding up his hand and waving an apology at each angry driver. They approached ground zero for the doomed flock and the professor slowed the van down as he drove through the carnage. Paige couldn’t look. Seated next to Abbey, she felt a growing sense of unease after the situation escalated into a dangerous exploit, but the idea of staying behind frightened her even more. Gabriel needed her. Through the fog of time, the familiar yet unknown realm where he existed, she felt his magnetic connection pulling her closer. She felt the bond of friendship and understanding she’d longed for her entire life. He needed her, and Ashley felt it too, as if his son’s second chance at destiny was in her hands, as if she could change the past and resurrect the fallen man\child with a heart of gold.

The doomed flock faded into the background as the van barreled across the invisible state line into Louisiana. Paige thought again about the journal entry she harbored in her purse. Mathematics had always been her nemesis, but the date on that torn piece of paper, written by Gabriel himself, was as simple as 2+2. Abbey Road, she thought, Gabriel’s favorite album. She turned away from Abbey, the celebrity look-alike who had some explaining to do. They all have some explaining to do.

“We’re drug trafficking?” she asked. “Anything else I should know about? Dead body? Severed head perhaps?”

“I’m so sorry, Paige!” yelled the professor. “It’s not what you think!”

“Save it,” Michael said, “we’ve been exposed. You want your weed back or what?”

“Let’s not get into the what belongs to who here!” the professor answered. “I could really use some damn coffee, not a damn thing open… Nice work, by the way!”

“Thanks,” Michael said, “everyone’s got dirty laundry, just gotta sift through it.”

Paige lost it. Leaning over the seat, she demanded answers from Michael. What they were, what Vincent wanted and what she had to see to believe, she demanded to know what would happen in New Orleans. Abbey privately told her to calm down. She glared at him and publicly told him no.

“I have the right to know!” she exclaimed. “I don’t care about The Council! Tell me what’s going on! Who are you people?”

Blood-stained and pale, Michael calmly replied, “Secrets are always hidden in the same place, Paige. You’re just not looking hard enough.” Seated next to Michael, Ashley glanced up at Paige while he bandaged his friend’s wrists, his face displaying sympathy but his voice remaining silent. She held her position and hovered over the seat, but Michael ignored her angry stare and changed the subject.

“Fat bastard. Can you believe those guys? Assaulting Billy like that? They’re lucky to be alive.”

Paige refused to go unheard. “Why not make all of them pass out?” she asked. “Hell, why not make the guns fly out of their hands, like the clock or the coffee mug?”

Frowning, Michael yanked his wrists away from Ashley. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Paige, but I’m not in the best condition right now. Besides, we’re limited when our hands are bound.”

Paige sank down into the seat, her short-lived outburst as pointless as Michael’s bandages. She passively listened as he finished ranting about the CMC’s and revealed the story behind Officer Ed. After reading his mind, Michael realized they were dealing with an ex-reverend who molested children in the church. When his own mother busted him, he shot her.

“Bastard wasn’t even investigated,” he complained.

Yelling from the front of the van, the professor asked, “Did his mom really forgive him?”

Michael scoffed and threw up his hands, “Who the hell knows! It’s not like I talk to the dead, Billy.”

Through the cracks of the seat, Paige saw Kendal peek her head around and examine Michael, her face stern and unreadable. Her presence disturbed Paige, but the professor, he was always right by her side. Sat next to her at the bar, slept in the same room, and now, she rode up front with him in the van. Paige folded her arms and cursed the Doucet siblings. The rumors surrounding Limbo Diver began to hold water, and while she doubted they worshipped the devil, she also doubted they embraced The Ten Commandments, unlike Gabriel, she thought. But it wasn’t about religion, it was about truth and honesty and trust. It was about luring someone into a dangerous situation. It was about being told you’re some sort of science experiment and then forbidden to know the rest. Forcing the tip of her finger out of her mouth, Paige jumped up and leaned over the seat.

“You killed those birds,” she said, glaring at the two friends. “I saw your auras right before they died, blood-red of course.”

Michael laughed and opened his eyes. “You mean our Care Bear Stare? It’s highly effective, but it’s never killed birds before.”

The professor yelled from the front of the van, “I have theories about that! Could be the red dust they’re spraying! Could also be the–”

“Could be!” shouted Michael.

The van lunged forward. Paige’s head whipped back. The two friends turned and smiled at each other as the professor chunked an empty bottle into the backseat. Stretching out his legs across Ashley’s lap, Michael leaned back against the side of the van and closed his eyes.

“No one forced you to come, Paige, and you know exactly who we are,” he said, coughing into his sleeve. “But since you asked nicely, I’ll indulge you.”

Paige hovered over the seat as Michael unraveled the mystery behind his wrists. The scars were a result of childhood trauma, abuse he suffered under the hands of his father. Vincent locked him away in the attic as a young child, bound by fishing twine and left for dead, his wrists had worn down to the bone by the time he was rescued. As a young adult, he relived the experience, but the Calvary arrived a little too late.

“Now I have to take medicine so this doesn’t happen,” he said, holding up his bandaged wrists, already soaked with blood. “Much like Cinderella, if I don’t get my meds, I’ll have to ride home in a pumpkin, or something to that effect,” he gestured. Paige asked what kind of medicine he took but Michael only laughed and said that aspirin usually did the trick.

“Will you die if you don’t get it?” she asked.

 His eyes popped open as he lifted his head and coughed into his sleeve again. Reaching into his backpack, he pulled out the syringe and the small cellophane bag. “This white powder isn’t what you think it is,” he said. “This is my medicine, what’s left of it.”

Paige didn’t have to ask. Vincent was the medicine man, the mad scientist who supposedly had a hand in her birth, the same man responsible for Michael’s abuse also possessed the only drug that could save him. She thought again about Frankenstein and reworded her question.

“If the Calvary arrived too late, did the medicine bring you back?”

Michael touched his nose and fished out a spoon from his bag. “I have to prepare the rest of this,” he said, “but don’t freak out on us again. I have to cook and then eject it. Familiar ritual, different drug.”

Paige watched as he poured the white powder onto the spoon. She restrained herself. Abbey repositioned himself and turned the page of his book, his long slender finger following along as he read. She thought about sending a private message and confronting him about Gabriel, but didn’t see the point. If they could all read minds, why not just say it aloud. She held her tongue and winced as Michael injected the mysterious antidote into his vein.

“We have special genes, Paige, evolved,” he said, rolling down his sleeve. “That’s what keeps us young, not this.”

She sighed and looked away, her next question answered before ever leaving her lips. From behind the wheel, she heard the professor yell, “You’re just like us, Paige!” She didn’t know how to feel about that. The two friends glanced at each other and rolled their eyes as Ashley cracked a smile and leaned over in his seat.

“Billy,” he shouted, “we can hear you in the back, quit yelling!”

The van shot forward as Paige fell back. She watched the passing landscape gradually begin to change as the dense forest gave way to open marshland. Swamp trees popped up sporadically, their branches heavy with moss like tinsel heaped onto a Christmas tree. She recalled a forgotten memory.

Paige and her parents vacationed in Louisiana the summer before she left for boarding school. They’d taken a swamp tour guided by a gritty Cajun man who’d sat on the edge of the flat-bottom boat feeding marshmallows to alligators. He told stories about his family and their customs, explaining that Cajuns were resourceful people who utilized the swamp for food, enjoying such delicacies as alligator meat, moss soup, or nutria, which are gargantuan rats. Although her stomach talked louder than the professor, Paige made a mental note to steer clear of the local cuisine. Even if her phone did work, she doubted she’d call her parents. Michael was right, no one forced her to come along and anger gained new ground the longer she thought about the lie. They robbed her of an identity, no matter how difficult to grasp, her parents robbed her of the chance to be with her own kind. She stood up and leaned over the seat.

“Hey, can you teach me how to do what you do?”

A glimpse of color appeared on his otherwise ashen face, but Michael’s condition showed little improvement from the medicine. “I don’t have to teach you,” he said, “you already know how. Just let yourself go, tap into it. Switch gears.”

“Switch gears?” the professor asked. “Michael, you can’t even drive a stick shift.”

“What’s that?” Michael yelled. “Speak up, can’t hear you back here!”

Paige smiled, once again, enamored by the famous singer. Digging through his bag, Michael pulled out a multi-colored hat and plopped it on his head. Pushing his dreadlocks up and under, he admitted that staying young forever had its advantages, but if he failed to get the medicine, he wouldn’t mind too much. Ashley glared at his friend and pushed his legs off his lap.

“Is that so?” he asked. “I’ll force the stuff in you if I have to. You’ll be too sick to fight me off anyway, but if you do die, you’re taking me with you.”

Paige slinked back into her seat as Michael scooted in closer and whispered something in his ear. Ashley shook his head and pulled away.

“Billy,” Michael shouted, “we need food!”

“There’s granola in the back!” the professor offered.

“Groovy. I’ll burn some incense, Ken, you bust out the guitar, and Abb, get us started with some Kumbaya!”

The professor suggested he choke on some Gumbo, a comment that brought a smile to his brother’s anguished face. Despite the criticism, everyone resigned to munching on peanut butter granola while Man on the Moon neared its end. Paige fell into the groove of the moment, the highway’s vibration in perfect synch with the rhythm of the catchy tune.