Chapter Sixteen
Chris? Son, this is your Doctor. It is imperative that you return my call at your earliest convenience. There is an urgent matter that I need to discuss with you personally. I don’t want you to call my office; I’m requesting that you speak with me specifically.
-Doctor Mack Olsen’s seventh message left on Agent Christopher Prince’s personal voice mail.
Seth
In-Route to the FBI Field Office, 24th Day
Atlanta residents were abandoning ship like rats on the sinking Titanic.
He was riding shotgun in a stolen car next to Roxanne Sanchez when he got his first intimate look out of the window as they drove past parts of the inner city. The eased through one neighborhood slow enough for him to hear one family praying as they held hands in the front yard. The oldest male figure was asking God to help those who conflict to turn away from their hostile ways.
A half a dozen shot gun houses had the grills out. Dr. Seth Dupree surmised that perhaps they were preparing themselves for a loss of power in the nest night or two.
Roxanne Sanchez drove on and looked ambivalent at best, her pistol resting on the seat between them. Seth could only remember the uncertainty in the days before Y2K and the weeks after 911 where people openly took preparations, awaiting disaster to befall them.
Another family was boarding up their windows. Two others were squeezing the last of their belongings into a minivan before hitting the road out of the danger zone.
He could see I75 up and to his right in the distance lined in both directions with unmoving cars.
The Zero Hour was nearing but the exodus had already begun.
This is serious, Seth’s mind told him.
This is the calamity that your beloved wife helped create. Another voice said as an answer to the first one.
Seth had given up calling her and in fact he had finally ditched the phone before Roxanne had returned from her conversation she had with Christopher Prince at some bar on the other side of town. As for the phone, he never really cared for the things, but understood the need and use for them, especially in his profession.
The sweat was building on his brown, despite the cool night and the two of them riding with the front windows half way down. The wildfires were as ambivalent as the Latino woman sitting next to him. They rolled on.
And yet it wasn’t every day that a man was riding to where his wife was with the thought of killing her rattling around in his brain. Well, perhaps he wasn’t going to do the deed himself, but the curvy assassin dressed in tight black jeans was. Angel had hurt him so many times before. And she had disappointed him countless times more than that, his heart aching with the mere thought of it.
But it was her part of the events going on here—in real time that had caused him to consider such vile methods of dealing with her.
He remembered a specific conversation the two of them had about eight months ago. She had told him in confidence about Pandora’s mandates. He remembered because it was one of the few times his wife had really opened up to him about anything really.
Angel had admitted to at least understanding this Caretaker’s mandates—his words. She understood Serena’s vision…even if she had not embraced the methodology she was willing to carry out to achieve all of her goals.
And Angel had told him that it was her professional desire to see Louis Keaton conquer all of his personal demons by any means necessary.
So did you train him to do…to do what he’s done? Angel.
And could he train his own mind to accept the fact that she had to be stopped by any means necessary as well?
“Let me out.”
“Relax, Doctor,” Roxanne said without taking her eyes off of the road. “We’re almost where I think she is—“
“Roxanne, I want out right now. I can’t do this.”
“Just sit back,” Roxanne said, her voice growing impatient and testy.
Seth snatched the pistol off of the seat, pulled it out of the holder and had the barrel targeted between her dark eyes in seconds. “All I want from you is for you to pull this car over and let me out of it.” He said to her. “I swear to you that I will kill you if you don’t have us pulled over to the curve in the next ten seconds.”
Roxanne toed the gas instead. “She doesn’t deserve your loyalty.”
“I know. She doesn’t deserve my love either, but I still love her all the same.”
“Look around you, Seth. All of this ciaos…all of this suffering and fear is directly linked to her. You’re wife help create much of this mess that you see before you right now.”
“I know that too, Roxanne.” Seth focused on his breathing as Roxanne finally slowed the car and pulled over. “In a far more perfect world than the one you and I live in, she deserves to be judged by a jury of her peers…and eventually by a higher power.”
“We’re living in an imperfect world, Doctor.”
“So very true,” Seth nodded, but held on to her pistol anyway. “I don’t think you are wrong about most of what you feel about Angel. I certainly can’t control what you do after I’m out of this car. Still, I won’t accept the added responsibility of murdering her without knowing all of the facts, Roxanne. I won’t.”
After the car came to a full stop Roxanne faced him down. “Well, I guess that means that you will have to kill me, Seth. I am willing to take on that responsibility that you mentioned. Someone has to stop her. I’m going to stop her once and for all.”
Seth methodically unbuckled his seatbelt, got out of his seat and closed the door without taking his eyes off of the car’s driver. He only had a passing familiarity with guns so he takes his time removing the clip from this one using the very techniques that this woman had taught him earlier in the day.
He sat the hardware back on the seat from which it came empty and tossed the clip into the backseat. He knew that she was probably armed with a smaller gun strapped to her ankle or something like they do in the movies, but he was willing to take the chance that she wouldn’t kill him in cold blood, especially now that any threat he posed to her or her plans had been removed.
“This stuff is yours. I won’t try and stop you.” Seth let out a chuckle. “And my wife is pretty resourceful. I wouldn’t count her headstones too quickly if I were you.”
Seth began to back away from the vehicle.
Roxanne’s face remained stoic. “Have you ever seen what a war looks like, Seth?”
“I’m a surgeon, Roxanne. I’ve treated many patients who have suffered gunshot wounds and knife induced trauma.”
Roxanne sadly shook her head. “You’re not answering my question.” She looked at the neighborhoods that served as a perimeter around her car. And then she found his eyes again. “In a few hours this neighborhood and neighborhoods just like it across the city will be a hell on earth. I don’t think you are prepared to see the ugliness in humanity manifest itself it right in your lap. Most people aren’t.”
“You’re probably right again.” He could visualize it all and it frightened him. “I’m a doctor, Roxanne. I can help. Somewhere I could be of assistance to someone in need. We are going to achieve unity as a community as a country. I still believe that.”
“Then you are a fool.”
“Maybe I am at that.”
Seth turned to leave. If Roxanne chose to shoot him or run him over for that matter, so be it.
Instead, he heard her say: “She’ll let you down in the end. The ones we love the most always do.”
Seth twisted back around to face his wife’s potential killer one last time. “She’s my wife, Roxanne.” He announced to her as if she already didn’t know that as a legal fact. “My pack is gone. Everyone who I ever have loved is dead already. Angel’s all that I have left.”
“What about you, Doctor? What about your life?”
“What do you mean?”
The Gray man thought that he saw a flash of sadness flicker in her dark eyes. In all honesty he didn’t know her wel
l enough to tell.
“I mean that you won’t survive the night out here. You won’t live long past the Zero Hour once the unrest begins.”
Seth surprised them both by…grinning.
“I’m tougher than you give me credit for, young lady.”
“No you’re not. None of us are.”
And with her final statement Roxanne Sanchez spun her tires as she drove off. Seth watched her speed though the neighborhood until he could see the angry red of her taillights no more.
Would Roxanne carry out her threats against his wife?
Should he have stopped her?
Was Roxanne right about everything when it came to Angel?
The only answer that he had ready had been to the newest question forming in his thoughts: I am alone out here. What am I to do now?
You keep on keeping on, Gray man.
Yet, one block later he watched from behind a shed as three black men drug a white man out of his car at a stop sign and began beating him. They bashed his head with bricks and sticks and kicked at his lower extremities until the man was unable to defend himself further.
He took a single, giant step in their direction…to do what exactly when he arrived he could not say. He’d thrown away his cell phone and had no way of calling the cops to assist the fallen man.
The worse part of the altercation was watching another young black family cheering on the beat down as if they were at some type of sporting event.
It was if the world was a fabric that was ripping at the seams.
Everything that he though was good and wholesome about this country and more importantly its people was coming apart.
The little beacon of light that the rest of the world had both admired and begrudged about the greatest nation on the planet was soon to be doused by its people’s citizen’s blood on its streets.
I don’t think you are prepared to see the ugliness in humanity manifest itself it right in your lap. Roxanne had told him just a short while ago. Most people aren’t.
He’d been so naïve.
He’d been so encased in a box: He’d been sheltered from the real world’s problems by hiding behind his work, his troubled marriage and the images and memories of his past.
He had dared utter the words unity to Roxanne.
And now he was seeing the much prophesized split in the country’s unity happening before his very eyes, even before the Zero Hour dawned on the city.
So Dr. Seth Dupree didn’t see the shadows rushing to approach him from behind until it was far too late—
He felt the crack upside the back of his head though.
And all of the light he knew in the world went out.
Thomas
Undisclosed Location, 24th Day
Where in the hell were these people taking him?
Four Peacekeepers had walked into Vera Café in south Atlanta, announced their presence and immediate intention to Thomas Pepper where he had been seated alone in a booth nearest the window, smacked him upside his head in front of the overflowing lunch crowd, blindfolded him and tossed him unceremoniously into the back of a car.
He’d felt the first tinge of anger bypass all of his fear when he could feel his elbows and knees burning from the bruising of being dragged across the floor of the café. It was still far too soon if he’d erred in contacting a friend of a friend of a friend of Grace Edwards to arrange a private meeting with the Circle. He had a get-together with this person serving as an initial contact at a local pub. She assured him that his message would be relayed through the proper channels. Thomas believed it came to pass because his life had gotten progressively worse ever since.
And now he had been manhandled and kidnapped.
He had grown hot during the transit. Perhaps his captors could tell because they ripped his jacket off of him. He let off a series of curses at that: That jacket had been expensive. Cursing at them had proven to be the latest in a long line of mistakes on his part. A rough pair of fingers worked a gag over his big mouth with duct tape before they pushed him to his feet.
Whatever the destination was…they’d appeared at long last to have reached it.
After three or four dozen steps he heard Grace Edward’s voice telling him to calm down. She warned him against making trouble, especially here. He’d had asked for an audience with the Circle and that request had been granted. She instructed one of the Peacekeepers to remove the duct tape from his lips and the rough pair of fingers had returned and ripped the tape from his mouth. He had lost some skin from his lips and mouth from the deal but was otherwise unharmed.
Well, he was safe for at least for the moment.
Everything and everyone grew silent.
Thomas Pepper thought that they might kill him them, but someone pulled the hood off of his head instead. His eyes struggled to refocus themselves even in this compact room with the very low lighting it was offering. He tried to take in his surroundings as quickly as he could: The tallest and brightest skinned man in the room wore an eye patch but was otherwise instantly recognizable to him as Warren Washington, although Thomas never had called himself a sports fan. He knew the slender woman wearing braids as Grace Edwards of course. There were two other men and women who were dressed in Khaki suits, sneakers and donned in skeleton masks. They were members of the Peacekeepers no doubt.
Yet, seated directly in front of him, was a squat man whose eyes bared the stress that only the man who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders would know. Thomas had only seen Xavier Prince on television over the last couple of years. That much time and that much distance had caused him to forget what a small presence the other man ushered. But your legend grows with every passing minute doesn’t it, Xavier?
The room seemed to only be lit by candles and the smell of incents only verified that conclusion to Thomas.
Xavier Prince sighed deeply. “You shouldn’t have come here, Thomas.”
Thomas caught the other man’s meaning. The larger of the two men didn’t have the luxury of time on his side so he got right to it. “You wouldn’t have seen me any other way, One, and you wouldn’t have admitted me if you weren’t the least curious to what I had to say.”
“Don’t you think that you’ve said enough already.”
“What was that?” Thomas stood at his full height. “What are you talking about?” He waved a thick, accusing finger at the Peacekeepers most likely responsible for bringing him here under heavy duress. “And where is all of this animosity being directed at me coming from anyway?”
“You haven’t begun to know animosity from my people yet, Thomas.”
Thomas took a step forward and halted his progress as quickly as his bulk allowed him to. Grace grabbed his left arm while two of the Peacekeepers trained their guns at his temple. Warren struck him across the back of his neck for all his troubles, putting him on his knees.
Thomas wanted to believe that the tears misting in his eyes were originating from the physical pain he was feeling. He spat blood on the floor. He gathered himself as quickly, as gracefully as his large frame allowed him, eventually picking himself up off of the floor. If Xavier ordered his Peacekeepers to kill him, he would be damned if he were doing anything but standing on his feet when he took his last breath.
“Have you forgotten that Mayor Johnson, a once valued member of your Circle, recruited me to answer the three questions that every Person of Color in this country wanted to know?” Thomas said to one and all who would listen. “I granted an honorable dying woman her wish to the best of my abilities.” He glanced over his left shoulder to where Grace Edwards was standing. “You have the premiere intelligence operative in this hemisphere working for your House, but it was I who provided most of your information. Your Zero Hour would probably lack credibility without my investigation giving you and your cause the ammunition to impose such a threat on Pandora, the FBI and the general public as a whole.”
“Thomas—“Xavier started to say.
“Grant a dying man
his final words if you will,” Thomas dared to interrupt a king in his own court. “You do plan to kill me don’t you? That is the only endgame you have in store for me isn’t it, Xavier? So far, all I’ve earned for my efforts is to be held hostage in my own home, threatened in every way imaginable by two deadly organizations, questioned and accused by the feds and now this.”
Xavier sat back in his seat. “You have not been without choice, Thomas.” Xavier laughed. “It’s not as if anyone held a gun to your head.”
Thomas took a cautious step closer. And then another. He stole as many small footsteps as a man who wore his large shoe size could manage without tripping over them. He felt someone shadowing his steps from behind—it was Warren.
“I’ve been used by all of you.” He swung his arm around in an exaggerated half circle for effect. “I’ve been living in a path of daggers. A House in Chains and Pandora has both used me to gain sympathy for your causes.”
“No, you haven’t been used, Thomas.” Xavier stood and surprised Thomas when he met him half way. “You’ve provided a valuable service to a nation who truly needed it. You’ve exposed all of the ugly truths for everyone who isn’t still wearing blinders to finally see for themselves. No one in this country can deny that racism still exist here even after the election of a Black President into their White House.”
“When you speak of truths, Xavier, you sound as if you’re talking about something specific.”
“I am, Thomas.” Xavier nodded. “You helped remind everyone that Black people and White people in this country hate one another.” He said and then lowered his voice. Thomas could smell the staleness of cigarettes on the man’s breath. “Sure, we now live in some of the same neighborhoods, attend the same public schools and churches, serve the same Master…but underneath all of the courtesies, niceties, and good faith rhetoric, a deep seeded mistrust and hatred almost at the cellular level, still remains.”
“Okay, Xavier,” Thomas matched a House in Chains leader’s low tone with one of his own. “So there is great work that remains, there are bridges to be gapped. We should all remember the words of great men like Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.—“
“I will, Thomas.” Xavier replied and squeezed Thomas’ sore shoulder with some affection. Whether it had merit or not, Thomas could not say. “I’ve memorized all of Dr. King’s words and Malcom X’s, I can recite all of the great words from all of the great men who have passed on to a better life than this one, including my own father.”
“And what conclusion have you reached?”
“I’ve concluded that the 411 has been inevitable since the day Abraham Lincoln freed the slaves. I realized that the Rooster was capable of the Rapture from the day Martin Luther King died from his gunshot wound. And I now know that the Zero Hour…Scar and the Whirlwind will descend on us all—“
“You mentioned your father,” Thomas said. “Isaac Prince was indeed one of those great men like you spoke of before. He wouldn’t have let this end this way. You have power, Xavier. I want you to put the past and a possible future aside for a moment and remember that you have influence of events happening right now. Don’t give up, Xavier, don’t you ever give up on your father’s dream of peace and tolerance between our two peoples.”
Xavier stepped towards Thomas—and straightened out his tie and brushed the dirt off of the shoulders of his shirt. “You should keep to the truth, Thomas; it is what you do well. You should leave Fantasy and Science Fiction to lesser writers. You’ve provided my House with truth. We won’t forget that. Now go, Thomas, leave this place. You don’t belong here.”
Xavier showed him his back but the truth teller wasn’t finished with his business yet. It took Warren and two other Peacekeepers to restrain him from running up on Xavier from behind.”
“You never asked me why I asked to meet with the Circle.” Thomas managed to say before the larger of the two Peacekeepers began working him over.
He saw Xavier glance at Grace, who looked as uncomfortable as she could look at that moment. He held up a hand and the latest beating stopped. The petite man pimped more than walked back to the spot where Thomas had fell to his knees.
Xavier stuck a toothpick in his mouth.
“Alright, Thomas, enlighten me. Why did you risk your life in asking to see us here?”
Thomas tone neared a whisper as he told Xavier that he needed to reach into his pants pocket for something—that was not a weapon.
Xavier Prince seemed to mull it over a moment and eventually nodded his head in approval. Warren’s one visible green eye shifted from one end to another. Even Grace had stepped closer, almost standing in between her leader and Thomas in case the truth teller had indeed been proven a liar after all.
Thomas Pepper pulled out a key card and presented it to Xavier.
“A key,” Xavier asked, truly curious at the other man’s meaning. “What is this supposed to unlock, Thomas?”
“Whatever chamber that houses your heart’s greatest desires, Xavier.” Thomas said quickly before he changed his mind about his own Whirlwind he was about to unleash. “I’ve given you a personal focal point for you to unleash much of your aggressive energy towards. You have something to pour 400 years of hatred…and vengeance upon at last.”
Xavier frowned and then he raised his eyebrows which Thomas found difficult to see either motion in this reduced lighting. “Who will I find on the other side of this door you’ve given me the key to, Thomas?” And when Thomas only answered with a smile the other had grown impatient and raised his voice as a result. “Tell me Goddamn you, Thomas.”
“Lucy Burgess.”
“What?” It was Grace Edwards who had spoken into the silence first.
Xavier only stepped closer until he and Thomas were nearly one. “Why would you do this?”
“Lucy is staying at this hotel downtown. She is alone. She is vulnerable. She is an extremely easy target.” Thomas nodded towards where Grace was standing but had eyes only for her leader. “I’m sure Grace would have located her sooner or later. I’m guaranteeing you that it is sooner.”
“Why would you do this?” Xavier asked him again.
The two men stared at each other for how long a time Thomas could not say. No one else said a word. No one moved. Thomas could feel his heart fluttering in his chest. He was unsure of what would come next. He didn’t break his gaze with Xavier. To do so at this moment would show weakness. Men were little more than wild animals when you got down to their core. And the strong always kill the weak in the wild. It was not a manner of cruelty; it was the way of things…the way of the wild.
Xavier broke his gaze first. He turned the key, pinched between his index finger and his thumb over and over again.
Sometimes even the predator doesn’t know he is being preyed upon.
“You want something,” Xavier said. “You’ve given me this woman because you want something in exchange for her life that you’ve placed in my hands.”
Thomas didn’t hesitate.
“I’m asking you to extend your Zero Hour deadline 12 more hours.”
Warren shifted his one visible green eye and shook his head. “That is out of the question.”
Thomas never took both his good eyes off of the Circle’s leader. “Have you been outside lately? You’ve already proven your point, Xavier. The public is frightened to death. What’s 12 more hours to you…half a day longer until the end of the world as we’ve known it? We’ll all see the American version of Armageddon live and up close soon enough.”
“Don’t listen to him, Number One.” Warren said. “You know he’s in bed with Pandora—with Serena herself, he’s trying to buy them time to counteract us.”
Xavier told the younger man to shut his mouth.
“All of this is supposed to be about getting those children back to their families isn’t it? I’m asking you to give the authorities one last chance to find those boys. I have a reliable source has mentioned to me that the FBI has dispatched a team specifically
tasked with bringing in Serena Tennyson before your original time frame runs out as well.”
Grace said, “I’m sure those same efforts are being used to round up members of the Circle to.”
“I’m sure they are, Miss Edwards.” Thomas admitted as much. “But the point is this: I don’t know what you and your people are prepared to unleash on the public in response to those children not being found, but I’m sure there is no way from you to pull back from the operation once it begins. Mr. Washington is correct in his assumption that I do know Serena Tennyson at a more personal level somewhat. She is terrified of this Whirlwind that she has planned for you. If she is afraid then you should be afraid, Xavier.” He said. “We spoke about great men. I have no doubt that someone will utter the name Xavier Prince someday in a conversation just like the one we were having. I implore you…I beg you to give sanity more time.”
“Alright,” Xavier nodded his head once.
Thomas neared tears. “Thank you.”
Thomas looked to Grace to escort him out of—out of wherever they were. She locked her small arm in his and began walking him forward. Xavier dug a cigarette out of his pack. Warren and the Peacekeepers stood in shocked silence until the Circle member moved to put the hood back over Thomas’ head.
Thomas saw Xavier’s mouth part to speak before the bag pushed him back into a state of darkness.
“Ernestine once told me privately that she considered you an immoral man, Thomas Pepper. But I remember that she said that men like you were amongst the most trustworthy because they knew exactly who they were. They knew what they wanted.” Xavier said. “She was right about you, Thomas. And because of that I have a greater respect for you right at this moment than I ever did before now. You honored my friend’s memory.”
“Respect?”
“You gave up the life of this reporter before you asked me for the extension. You couldn’t know if I would have accepted your terms or not. I don’t think any reasonable man would have. I respect your boldness, your courageousness and your audacity. Only an immoral man could have even attempted to pull off what you have pulled off.”
A half an hour later Thomas had been returned to the street where the café from which this entire episode had originated. For the most part it looked like a normal Sunday night crowd of people drinking, eating and shopping before setting off to a another work week.
Thomas looked as far as his eye could see. He saw Grace Edwards doing the same. Eventually their eyes met. Could we possibly be thinking the same thing, Grace?
Thomas believed that many people in this crowd must think that if any rioting or social unrest comes to Atlanta that it would likely be centered in predominately Black neighborhoods as it did during the Rodney King and President Adolphus Sweet riots of years past.
Grace handed him what was left of his torn jacket. She told him to bill her for a new one.
Thomas said: “I hope for your sake that Xavier doesn’t trust Warren or any former members of the New Black Panther Party.”
“We don’t.” Grace said. Thomas wondered—and not for the first time—was there any scenario or condition that this woman hadn’t covered to its most minute detail. “I’m aware of the danger that they represent to my Number One and I’ve taken the precautionary steps to deal with those threats.”
“I’m sure you will.” Thomas folded his jacket over his arm and began his preliminary search for where he’d parked his Jaguar. “Excuse me for being blunt, Miss Edwards, but I know your work. And I must admit I’m a bit surprised that you haven’t had Warren eliminated already.”
Grace smiled. “You aren’t the only one who has had to deal with what seemed to be unprovoked physical confrontations in the streets, Mr. Pepper. How do you think he got that patch over his one eye? I’m sure that I count on you keeping that information from being quoted again on your blog.”
“Of course,” Thomas suddenly felt even less comforted. Just that small detail that Grace had disclosed to him reminded him what lethal company he was keeping at the moment.
“Thanks for arranging the meeting with your Number One. Well, I guess that I should go while I still have the chance. I don’t want to be active on anyone’s hit list.”
“Until you handed Xavier access to your colleague Lucy Burgess,” Grace said conversationally. “You were near the top of his.”
Chris
Atria Busch Assisted Living Center, 24th Day
The administrator of the Atria Busch Assisted Living Center, a Black woman with her pants squeezing her hips and her eyebrows painted on her forehead, greeted Christopher Prince as he entered the building. She told him that Helen had informed her of his impending arrival and started to escort him through a series of doors and hallways towards the back.
Chris had shrugged her niceties off. He instructed her in no certain terms to point to where this woman ‘Helen’ was. When the administrator failed to answer right away and the look on her face transformed from a considerate one to a confused one to downright conflicted one at Chris’ tone and disposition—Chris pulled out his shield. I’m already in plenty of hot water for not turning in government property in a timely manner so what the hell. He informed her that he was acting on behalf of the FBI and demanded that she point him in the direction of the woman who had invited him and leave the two of them to their business.
Ten minutes later Chris found Serena Tennyson wearing a guise of this created persona named Helen waiting for him in a back room.
She was wearing a dark wig and darker shades. She began to open her mouth to greet him…when he backhanded her.
He had his weapon drawn but down at his side. He’d walked into this facility prepared to fight a dozen or hundreds of Pandora agents that had been sent to ambush him. What would my death matter now? He still believed that all life was precious, especially his own, but perhaps he’d been destined all along to go out with a bang.
Christopher Prince had searched his whole life for a sign that he would receive absolution for all of his past sins.
He now doubted that this sign would ever come.
So why not check out by his own terms? And if he had enough skills left and if he were terribly lucky, perhaps he’d take some of these Pandora bastards with him into the afterlife and let a higher power sort their irreconcilable differences all out then.
By the time Chris had kicked Serena in her lean side a second time something clicked from just under the surface of his conscious that told him that she indeed had come alone.
He began to tire nonetheless.
The adrenaline that he’d entered this room with had abandoned him. He then had an absurd thought. At least you won’t have to worry about losing weight any longer…he was surely a dead man when Pandora came for their retributions.
“Agent Prince,” Serena found enough energy to roll away from his abuse. She sat up quickly and arched her back against a nearby wall. “Listen to me; I can’t stop you from killing me.”
“I think that’s the first thing that you’ve ever said that I totally agree with.”
A cleaning woman who smelled of cheap perfume and talcum powder rolled her cart around a corner. She stopped the cart’s squeaking long enough to take a peek at what was going on.
Chris flashed his invalid shield again. “You are potentially interfering with a federal investigation, lady. I would mind my business if I were you.”
After the cart squeaked off Chris holstered his gun and approached the sitting Serena once again. He revved his right foot back with the full intention to place kick a tremendous shot to the woman’s forehead—when she implored him to stop with the palm of her hand.
“Agent Prince,” Serena cried out. “Allow me the final word before you carry on.”
“What could you possibly say that I would want to hear, woman.” He lowered his gaze. Serena’s fit build had been the only thing that had saved her from true injury already. He could kill her at any moment. He had promised himself that if the opportunity ha
d presented itself that he would do just that. “I would think that you were far too proud or far too arrogant to beg for your life, even after all of those you’ve willingly destroyed. And again, there is nothing else you could possibly say that I want to hear—so let’s get on to the business of getting you to your flames in the afterlife.”
“Why don’t you try me, Agent Prince?” Serena asked him. “What do either one of us have to lose by listening to what I have to say.”
Chris squatted down, but kept his distance. She was still Serena Tennyson. And no matter how helpless she appeared, he considered her armed and dangerous until after she exhaled her last breath.
“You are the leader—or at the least—one of the leaders of a racist organization that has killed hundreds of innocents and threatened thousands more. You’ve befriended a man who once kidnapped me and now is likely molesting young Black children like he did to those boys who were captured with me.” He caught his breath and willed himself to dial his emotions back a notch before he collapsed from hyperventilating. “You’ve tried to have my brother killed. Now, I’m sure that you had a lot to do with discrediting me by aiding in releasing lies about me into the street at this precious hour.”
Serena’s laugh held no humor. “I have been busy haven’t I?”
“You know what…” Chris cocked his gun and pointed it at her. A crowd of onlookers must have heard what was going on and had gathered inside the double doors. He heard them muttering, chattering and whispering. Someone specifically spoke his name, but just as importantly, three or four voices mentioned Serena Tennyson’s name aloud as well.
Good information for his defense lawyer to use in his murder defense months down the road.
Serena Tennyson was far too dangerous to allow her to keep living.
Christopher Prince had decided to kill her tonight.
“You are the one empowered here, Chris.” Serena said in her indoor voice. “My life is truly in your hands. But so is his location. If you act foolishly then it will be the most selfish act you’ve ever committed. You’ll be hurting yourself and your brother Xavier. Your brother would want to know the truth as well.”
It was Chris’ turn to laugh without humor necessary to make it genuine.
“Alright,” Raindrops of sweat poured down his bald head. He wiped it with the butt end of his gun. “Alright, we’ll do it your way, Serena. We will hear one more line of your precious bullshit before I send you off to Hell.”
“I know where your father is.”
The world went silence.
The world went still.
“Good God, woman,” Chris managed to say at last. “Do you have any common thread of decency at all? Is there no limit or shame to what you will say or do?”
Serena eased her way to her feet. She straightened out her blouse and slacks. Chris heard her crack her long neck. “I can take you to him, right now if you wish. He’s nearby.”
“Is there any thread of decency pumping through your veins at all?” Yet, Chris found himself waving his gun at her to lead to wherever she was trying to take him. He would have killed her at the mere suggestion of this impossibility but Scotty’s words were ringing in his head as if he were at the Vatican on an Easter Sunday: I am talking about real truth; the type of earthshaking truth that Thomas Pepper claims that follows him around. You are on the cusp of learning a truth so wondrous…and yet, so very tragic, that you will never look at the opposite sides of the same coin the same ever again.”
Leave the dead alone.
He wanted to tell both Serena Tennyson and Benjamin Scott.
“I would, Chris,” He must have told her after all. “If only he would leave me alone.”
“Go to Hell, Serena.”
“I have.” She said. “A part of me does every time I look into my flames.” Serena nodded her head. She gazed at Chris but he could tell that at least a piece of her spirit was well outside these walls.
She reached her hand out to him.
“Join me,”
“Stop this, Serena,” Chris warned her and slapped her hand away. “Stop this right now…if you quit this mockery, then I won’t kill you, I’ll just turn you over to Agent Sheridan of the FBI.”
“There is no treachery here on my part, Chris. There is no betrayal awaiting you beyond these walls.” She said. “Come with me now. I assure you that you will be safe.”
“Why are you torturing me?”
But Chris followed where she led.
She turned and walked towards him in the smallest strides that her long legs allowed her. He had his gun out with the barrel trained on her forehead. She continued her approach. He could have shot her. He should have shot her. He targeted her neck, her chest, her flat stomach as she continued to approach him…
She reached him at long last and pointed the gun down at the floor. She didn’t try to take it from him. She did not respond with some type of weapon or offensive of her own.
The onlookers…observed what the two of them were doing on, unsure of what they should do to counter it.
“No more threats, Chris. There is no more need for false bravado or innuendo from either one of us. If you want to see your father, then you should come with me.”
And so he did just that.
Chris followed Serena out of the nursing home into an old schoolhouse directly behind it that had closed decades ago. He kept his weapon to his side, decided to leave it there and not train it on her unless she gave him reason to. Anyway, his chance to kill her without passing another conscious thought had passed never to return. Even without his official title he still thought of himself as an agent of The Federal Bureau of Investigations. More importantly, he was the proud son of a mother and father who had taught him that all life was precious. And he still thought himself an honorable man.
And yet he’d given his opposition the opening she’d needed to have him killed at any moment.
The old schoolhouse stank of mold and mildew when they arrived on its grounds.
Worse, it seemed to Chris to be something beyond simple staleness that he couldn’t immediately recognize. Serena shielded her face against obstructions as she walked through the darkness as if this dead place was a second home to her. She opened a door to what Chris only could call the main office, stepped over an old broken desk and continued to go wherever Serena led.
Chris felt his emotions riding the rollercoaster from anger to fear to curious and back again. Whatever was going to happen to him, he decided to let the scene play itself out. He cursed himself for allowing himself to lose control of this situation back at the nursing home. And yet, another part of him said any so called control had been lost when he agreed to meet this woman in the first place. Even when I was kicking her senselessly…she was in control of me, all along.
Serena finally halted her progress at the principal’s office and turned around to face him.
“He told me that you loved hot dogs.”
“What? What did you say?”
“When he took you to the baseball game…he told me that you loved hot dogs. You loved to eat them and down your food with ginger ale. You had so much to eat and drink that night in fact that you had to rush to the bathroom before you left for home. He counted on that and you did not disappoint.”
“Shut up,” Chris screamed at her. “Is this what all of the fuss you’ve been making? I know you have skilled intelligence people, Serena. I know that they fed you this information. No one ever said your operatives weren’t good at their jobs.”
Out of nowhere a light flicked on.
The sudden brightness nearly blinded him and he pointed his gun in her general direction in case this was it—and this meeting with his father was to be on the other side of life and death with his ambush and murder all along.
Serena did nothing.
She relaxed her muscles against a far wall.
An old projection movie began playing on the chalk board that was in the office.
Chris recognized
himself and his father walking down the concourse towards the restroom on the third deck. How did they capture this image?
“You’ve used CGI technology,” Chris dismissed what his eyes were clearly seeing. “Somehow you recreated the setting and used animation of myself and my father to fill in the rest of this imagery.”
Serena shook her head. “The Braves were terrible that summer like they were most of the summers during the middle to late 1970’s and into the early 80’s.”
“I’ve told you to shut up, Serena.” He started for the door, but the images felt so real that the picture kept bringing him back to see more. “I won’t listen to this.”
“Then maybe you should only watch, Chris.”
And so he did as she asked once again.
Two more projections popped up to the right and to the left of the first picture. These new angles showed his abduction by Louis Keaton just as if he were narrating to story to Angel all over again back at the motel down state a few days ago. Keaton approached him from behind and it was even more frightening to watch the Chris of his childhood being snatched from a third person point of view. He felt a shiver run down his spine as he watched his father actually follow him into the bathroom two minutes after he entered—
And watch the door for intruders as Keaton took him.
“No,” Chris said with a small voice. He pointed his gun at Serena once again. It seemed the thing to do. “I’m through playing games with you, Serena. You said you would take me to my father not show me these heavily edited old documentaries fresh from the Pandora archives.”
And before she could answer him Chris added: “What is so special about this old place? And what is that smell?”
“I know that you don’t want to, Chris, but you’ll need to trust me for a small while longer. Your father is here. You need to open one more door and you’ll be with him again.”
And so he followed her into a conference room that was adjoined to the Principal’s office. This room proved darker than either one that they’d occupied before. He even asked her why it was so very dark in here. If she had another light to switch right now would be a good time.
And whatever that horrid smell was it nearly overwhelmed him.
She snapped on a light that had no business existing in a building as old and as decaying as this one.
A skeleton was seated at the head on the conference table and stared up at him.
Serena spoke quickly. “I’ve kept my promise to you. Say hello to your father, Chris.”
He fired a round in her direction—intentionally missing her, or so he told himself.
Glass shattered behind her.
Serena Tennyson had ice in her veins for she barely moved at all.
“I should kill you where you stand. You are truly a sick woman. It’s no wonder you reached Keaton. This isn’t my father’s remains. It can’t be.”
She slowly pulled a folder of documents out of a drawer and pushed them towards Chris. He only glanced at them at first…and then gave them a wider birth. There were records of a body that had been dug up and placed in the driver seat of the car to look as if his father had been killed by a drunken driver.
Next he saw a second official document that appeared to be death certificate marked ten years after he and everyone else was led to believe that his father truly died. Dental records had been provided matching the new date deceased date. Isaac Prince’s fingerprints were available. The DNA lab reports had been ran and rerun by a formal friend of his who had abandoned the bureau—like so many others—for Serena Tennyson’s Pandora.
“I’ve always thought it was more than noble of you to never to have taken a drink of alcohol in remembrance of the manner that you thought your father was taken from you.”
“Isaac Prince was killed in a car accident.” Chris said in a demanding tone. “You’ve doctored most of this information somehow and forged the rest. Scotty drove to the home where I was living with Xavier and his mother. He told us everything that happened.”
And Serena quoted Scotty’s words of that fateful day as if she’d scripted them herself.
“Why would Scotty lie to me?” Chris felt the tears begin to fall; the truth of it all…his Whirlwind setting in. “What is the meaning of all of this deception?”
“Your father sacrificed one of his lives so he could pursue his other without further interruption.” Serena said. “I must admit that his choice is not one that I could have emulated. That is why he is one of only two human beings that I can factually say that I not only adored—but loved as well.”
“What?”
“Your father, Isaac Prince, is one of the answers that every Person of Color in this country wants to know. Your father was the founder of Pandora. He was the Caretaker.”
There is a prolonged silence.
Chris opened his mouth to speak but he only tasted mothballs.
And so Serena spoke to him and for him.
“He told me many years later that he was surprised at the paths that his beloved children had taken: You chose to go into law enforcement as he had done between seasons as a House in Chains founder. Xavier took a more direct path in his footsteps—although the incident at Princeton probably nudged him over that preverbal edge into the role of the One.”
“I don’t want to hear anymore.” But Chris scooped up the available documents anyway as he back peddled towards the door from which he came. “I want you to stay away from me. If you come near me again I will kill you.”
“Xavier doesn’t possess your strength.” Serena continued on as if Chris had never spoken at all. “I’ve done all of this…shown you all of this in hopes that you will share this information with your brother. If he knows the truth about your father’s secret life and identity as the Caretaker, I know that he will stand down from the threats he has carelessly made against me, Pandora and his country. You will recover from this as a stronger man. But this information will destroy the very foundation of their House.”
“I asked you to stay away from me.”
“I need you to do this for me, Chris.” She moved towards him. He couldn’t find that damned door handle. “The Whirlwind can only be avoided if Xavier stands down now. And I believe that this Whirlwind will be far worse than even what I’ve seen in my flames. There are other factors involved that are even out of my influence. Grace Edwards listens to Xavier. The Circle listens to her. Make your brother listen to you.”
Chris halted his retreat long enough to say: “So you’re using me to get to him.”
“I’m empowering you so that you can finish what your father started. He wanted to keep the peace and for two races ever at odds to remain tolerant of each other. He wanted your people to take pride in themselves and their communities. He wanted to avoid the slaughter of innocent young Black men and women by a superior force. He sacrificed you in an attempt to stop it 30 years ago.”
“No,” Chris said. “I don’t think so. I can’t help you. I need more answers than the ones you are providing.” He gave the room a once over. “And I’m not entirely convinced that I believe any of this.”
“I understand,” Serena said as a concession. “You should go see Benjamin Scott. He knows the truth that I’ve been telling you about your father. Go. There isn’t a lot of time left.”
Chris turned to leave, found the door handle at last, and heard her call his name one last time.
“You should hurry, Christopher Prince. Everything rest in your hands now.”
A half hour later Chris found himself parked outside Scotty’s apartment in East Atlanta.
“Scotty,” Chris yelled for him half way up the walkway. “Scotty, where are you at you bastard?”
Scotty pulled up one of his bedroom windows with all of the composure and calmness that Chris would never have even under the best of circumstances.
“Come inside, Christopher.” He said. “I’ll put on some tea. Come inside. We’ll talk. We need to talk.”
“You lied to me. You
lied to Xavier.” Chris waved the folder full of documents up high where his father’s dearest friend could see them. “You’ve kept this hidden from us for years.”
Scotty folded his hands in front of him and searched the sky for answers that higher powers weren’t going to provide for him tonight. Instead, he waved Chris up and the testy younger man finally agreed.”
Sitting on Scotty’s sofa a few minutes later, Chris glared at the steam rising off of his own cup of tea.
Scotty sat next to him. “Serena must be pretty desperate to risk disclosing this damning information to you now. Xavier’s Zero Hour threat really hit home.”
“So you are telling me that all of this bullshit that I’m holding in my hands is true.” Chris said. “These death certificates I have with me; this dental work in this file. She told me that my father was the Caretaker.”
Scotty nodded to everything he was saying. “I know that none of this will be easy for you to understand, Old Man.”
“I thought that my father loved us.”
“He did.”
“I thought that you loved me and my brother as well, Scotty.”
“I do.” Scotty replied and moved closer to Chris. “But I loved your father even more. He and David Hicks were the brothers that I would never have. Isaac wouldn’t have gone through with this full transformation after Keaton’s failure with you and the other boys if I hadn’t given my word to watch over you and your brother after he was…gone.”
“You told us he was dead, Scotty.”
“No, I told you that he had left us. I’m not trying to mince words with you, Old Man. But I did not lie to you.”
“Did my step mother know?”
Scotty shook his head. “I disagreed with the harsh, unfathomable steps he was taking. I hated it. We argued. Our arguments eventually came to fisticuffs. We argued some more. Those conversations only hardened his resolve. It only made him more determined to see his long term plans through.”
“What plan?”
“Your father wanted to avoid the eventual conflict that we now find ourselves mere hours away from. He felt that his sphere of influence was limited as the leader of a House in Chains. He felt by working behind the scenes in his new role with Pandora that he could influence policy from the opposite side of virtually the same coin.”
“So he orchestrated the first round of the Atlanta Child murders.”
“He did.”
“He sacrificed me, Scotty.” Chris said. “He freely and willingly gave one of his own sons to a madman and a pedophile.”
Scotty hesitated, measured his response, said: “He did just that, Old Man. He profiled Keaton for years before approaching him. He’d first arrested him on some petty exposure charge five years before. He knew that Keaton wouldn’t touch you. I can’t tell you how. I won’t try to convince you otherwise. And yet, he knew.”
“So my own father, this Caretaker persona, was the brainchild behind these abductions. What about Muhammad Clark?”
“I know that his parallel operation was one that Clark had perpetrated for his own personal, sick gains.” Scotty backed off of his belligerent tone though when he said: “Clark had struck at least a half a dozen times when some local and national papers first started publishing stories about the ignition of a race war as the motive for the crimes. Your father jumped on that idea—and made it so. You were allowed to be taken soon after.” Scotty sipped at his tea. “Keaton made you his general just as his psychological profile suggested that he would. He wanted you to watch over the other children, to keep them safe, protect them from outside forces that could harm them.”
“And yet, if Keaton poked them in the meantime it would be okay.”
“Your father was trying to save a generation of his own race the best way he knew how, Old Man. He was so confident and assured in what he was doing that put you up as collateral against its failure.”
Chris sat his head in his hands. “Oh my God, so when I didn’t return to the place where we were being kept when Xavier saw me passing through our neighborhood—“
“Your father…your father killed those children himself. But just as he could ask no one else to sacrifice their child to Keaton…he could not bestow the dishonor of those boys’ murders on anyone else in Pandora. He alone went back to that residence and cut those boys throats and burned their bodies.” Benjamin Scott paused as emotion bested him for the first time during this conversation. “I know it means nothing to you now, Old Man, but Isaac Prince was never the same man after that. A piece of the man I’d known for decades truly did die that day. It set back his entire cause from both sides of that preverbal coin that we spoke of before. I believe that it was in those days afterwards that the plan for his first birth rights and name to die so that he could finish his work of saving lives was born.”
“I don’t think all of that matters a hell of a lot to me, Scotty.” Chris said. “How could my own father do this to me…to his family?”
“I watched your father evolve into many things over the years: He was a cop. He was the Civil Rights leader. He was a bad husband…but not in the manner that you’re thinking.” Chris could tell that Scotty had another story to tell but it would have to wait for another day. “But if I have to describe one word to describe him even all these years later then I would use one word—selfless.”
Chris stood. “Is that supposed to help me forgive him?”
“No, it should not, Old Man.” And Scotty stood as well. “Just be reminded during your worst bouts of anger in the days to come that Isaac Prince wasn’t going to ask anyone else to sacrifice anything he wasn’t willing to sacrifice himself.”
“My God,” Chris said again. He had the strength to mutter nothing else.
“Years later, a young woman who’d fled the ideologies of the FBI and witnessed great sacrifices in her own young life became his prized student. He made her give her word that she would carry out his wishes when advanced age or death no longer allowed him to.” Scotty sipped at his tea again but remained standing. “When you chose law enforcement he was proud of you but…”
“But what, Scotty,”
“He was profoundly disappointed that you didn’t follow his footsteps as the absolute leader of a House in Chains. He counted on you and Serena to work this racial epithet out in a more reasonable manner. He loved your brother; never question that, Old Man. Yet, he never thought that Xavier had the drive or the ambition or the discipline to pursue leadership of the group he’d founded. That gap in years of leadership led directly into the organization having to absorb the New Black Panther into the House just for its financial survival. Xavier continued to drink and to whore…so your father began to plan 411 with Serena Tennyson and Raymond Rice.”
Chris found himself pacing the hardwood floors of Scotty’s apartment. The older man sat down again to better sip his tea and then said: “And now you are allied with the truth, Old Man. What will you do with it?”
“I wish I knew.”
Scotty finished his cup at last and stood again. Chris immediately stopped his pacing. They found each other’s eyes. Chris wanted to hate this man with all of his heart nearly as badly as he wanted to kill Serena Tennyson earlier tonight but just like hours ago he wondered how he would live with what he’d done.
Benjamin Scott had been more devoted to his father than most married couples were to each other. And he had been a wondrous mentor for himself and his brother Xavier over these years when they had no one else to turn to.
And yet their relationship as he once knew it was gone forever.
A change was coming.
And Chris Prince’s life was going to change, yet again, forever.
He heard his personal cell phone ring. He gave the number lit up in its ID placement a once over, expecting to be Angel or Roxanne trying to reach him. He glared at the number a ring longer. He didn’t recognize it, but whoever it was had been blowing his number up over the past few days. He couldn’t even tie it to Serena Tennyson an
y longer, since she called him only once from another cell number, trying to arrange her fateful meeting that they had earlier.
He started to disconnect it and thought what the hell?
“Hello.”
“Christopher Prince, My God, did I finally reach you.”
Chris absorbed the sound of the man’s voice on the line for a second…the inflections finally connecting with him after a bit.
But why would his personal physician contact him at 11:30 at night?
“I do apologize for calling you at this hour, but I’ve I haven’t been able to reach you for weeks now. I don’t understand why don’t you ever answer your phone, son?”
“It’s alright, Doc.” Chris bit back a curse. He was in no mood to be dressed down by anyone tonight. “If it’s okay, I give you my word that I’ll give you a call during normal business hours. I have a lot on my plate—“
“No, I’m sorry son; you most certainly will not be doing that.” Gideon said. “I finally have reached you and I refuse to hang up until we have spoken.”
“Look, Doc, if this is about my physical that I had the other week, I’m sure we can set up an appointment—“
“You don’t understand, Christopher. It is vitally important that I begin consultation with you immediately.”
“Consultation,” The syllables soured on his tongue as he said it. He felt his stomach ache. “What are you talking about? What exactly do you need to counsel me on, Doctor Gideon?”
“Come in tomorrow and we’ll talk son.” His private doctor said. “I’ll clear out my morning schedule if you like. I wanted to speak to you to get your attention and now I have. But I would prefer not to disclose sensitive patient information over an unsecured line.”
“What is it, Doctor?”
Gideon cleared his voice, using the extra minute to gather himself.
“Two of your blood test that you took the other day showed some disturbing tearing in the lining of your adnominal wall. I think that they are damned peculiar. So I took the liberty of ordering a more detailed examination so that I could be absolutely certain.”
“I don’t like what I’m hearing here; so that you could be certain of what, Doctor?”
Scotty put his tea cup down. He couldn’t hear the conversation but must have read the lines of dread in Chris’ face word for word.
“You’ve been a patient of mine for years, son. I won’t discuss a diagnosis of a patient like this by phone.”
“Doctor Gideon, talk to me,” Chris yelled into his phone. “I’m begging you to tell me what is wrong?”
“The walls of your stomach are collapsing at an accelerated rate. It’s cancer, Christopher. You’re intestines aren’t providing a defense. You’re being eaten alive from the inside out. You’ve wrongly thinking that you’re gaining weight when in actuality your middle is swelling from the infection.”
After Chris calmed himself, he said: “You’re telling me that I’m dying from the same cancer that killed my mother?”
Christopher Prince had searched for a sign that he would receive absolution for all of his past sins.
“I am saying just that,” Doctor Gideon told him. “I’m sorry. It pains me to add to your misery by telling you that at this accelerated pace the cancer’s spreading, that you have less than six months to live, Christopher Prince.”
He now doubted that this sign would ever come.
Episode 6 Betrayal