J. Gonzalez - They

Once the back door to Mike’s sedan was closed and the vehicle was locked, Mike turned to him. His face was ashen. “We’ve got to find Carol,” Mike said. The shock was finally settling into his system. He was limp, hollow-eyed, haunted.

“That’s part of the plan.” Frank helped Mike into his car, then got in and drove away from the house. As he got on the 405 Freeway heading south to Irvine, he thought about calling Vince but decided against it at the last minute. I’ll call him later if we have to. Right now I’ve got to get Mike the hell out of here .

And as he drove to the motel, taking back roads, driving in a way to shake-off pursuers, Frank kept checking his rearview mirrors to make sure they weren’t being followed.

TWO HOURS LATER, Mike Peterson was asleep. Thank God for Valium , Frank thought.

Frank was seated at the small table by the bed. A lone sixty-watt bulb lit the room, providing enough illumination for him to work by. He’d been writing notes to himself since he got Mike to sleep. The Valium Frank had slipped into his soft drink was enough to put him out all night.

He picked up a can of coke and drank from it. He needed the caffeine to keep himself going. He would get some sleep later. Right now he needed to think.

The minute he got Mike to his motel room he’d told him to lie down on the queen sized bed. Mike had protested at first, repeating the same mantra. “Carol’s gone, they’ve got her, my God I’ve got to call the kids, the police, I’ve got to do something—”

Frank knew he had to knock Mike out. The guy was driving him bugfuck and he couldn’t think while Mike was wigging out. He couldn’t afford to have Mike bring everything crashing down. One call to the cops and everything would be destroyed—their investigation, their secrecy, their security. The cops would automatically suspect Mike in Carol’s disappearance and would haul him in for questioning. Without Mike, Frank and Vince would be sitting ducks. The Children could then move in and do whatever the hell they wanted… kidnap Vince maybe, kill Frank. And in the meantime, whatever information Mike had gathered on the cult would be locked away. Anything he or Frank told the police would be met by healthy skepticism. They’d be damned lucky if they could get anybody to take their story seriously, even Mike’s friend Billy.

He couldn’t have that.

So Frank told Mike to lie down and chill out for a minute. He was going to get him a drink, then he could call his kids and the two of them would call the police. Mike seemed to accept this and while he lay down, Frank had gone to the soft drink dispensing machine outside the room and bought a Coke and bottled water. He’d let himself back in the room, poured Mike a small glass, then searched through his overnight bag for his box of pills where he kept aspirin and Valium. He’d poured a glass of water, dropped a Valium in it and waited while it dissolved, then had taken a tiny sip to make sure it couldn’t be detected. He’d watched while the former high school teacher drank the water down then lay back down. Ten minutes later he was asleep.

Now Frank had to figure out what the hell to do.

The first thing he thought of doing was calling his Aunt Diane. He hadn’t seen her or Charlie in over ten years and hadn’t spoken to her in at least a year. In the years since the breakin at their home twenty-three years ago—an obvious warning to cease their investigation into the disappearance of his father—they’d been reluctant to talk to Frank about his background. They’d shared some information with him when he brought it up, but it was like pulling teeth. It had taken them five years to open up enough to start talking about it. He’d stopped asking them about it, and then one day when he was visiting he’d started asking again. This was shortly after he’d gotten sober and was working on what was to become his first horror novel in five years, Things Inside . He’d tried to bring the subject up gently and they answered his questions in the same way, not offering any more than they’d given him the first time around. It was obvious they weren’t prepared, nor did they wish to revisit painful memories.

Which was why he couldn’t go to them now. As much as he would have liked to pick up the phone right now and call Aunt Diane, he couldn’t. He didn’t want to get her involved again. She’d been through too much already. And besides, what could she do about his and Mike’s situation now? How could she help them?

Vince was the next person he thought of calling. He supposed it was time to get him involved more deeply. Frank picked up the phone and dialed Vince’s phone number.

The phone rang three times before it was picked up. “Hello?” Vince sounded cautious.

“It’s Frank.”

“Yeah?” Now Vince sounded even more overly cautious. Nervous, even.

“We’ve got trouble.”

“What happened?”

“Not over the phone. It’s serious, though. We’ve got trouble.”

Frank could hear Vince on the other end of the line fumbling with something and muttering.

“I don’t think we should be separated any more tonight,” Frank continued. “Can you get over here?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure. Where are you?”

Frank gave him his location and the room number. Vince said he was going to get some clothes on and he’d leave in ten minutes. Frank replaced the receiver and leaned back in the chair, his mind running with a thousand thoughts. I don’t know what the hell we’re going to talk about, or what kind of plan of action we’re going to take but we’ve got to do something. And we’ve got to stay together. No telling what could happen and it’s better to have strength in numbers tonight .

Frank picked up the Coke and drank while he waited for Vince.

“I’M SO SORRY,” Vince said for the tenth time since Frank called. He slipped into a T-shirt and rooted around in a dresser for a pair of jeans.

“It’s okay,” Tracy said. She was sitting up in bed watching as Vince dressed. “These things happen.”

“No they don’t,” Vince said, fastening the buttons on his jeans. “Normal boyfriends don’t have secret pasts that wreak havoc on their current relationships in the guise of kidnappings and attempted murders and—”

“ Vince !” Tracy’s tone was sharp and Vince paused. She was looking at him. “It’s okay. I understand.”

Vince turned away and reached for his shoes and socks. “Well I’m glad somebody does, ’cause I sure in the hell don’t understand what the hell’s going on.”

“I’m sure pretty soon you will,” Tracy said. She leaned forward, the sheets slipping down her breasts. “For what it’s worth, I think you need to stop listening to this guy Frank and not even go over there. In fact, maybe you should call the cops.”

“I don’t know why he didn’t think of doing that himself,” Vince muttered, tying his shoes.

“I’m serious,” Tracy said. Vince stopped dressing and looked at her as she continued. “Really, Vince, just look at yourself. You’re tired, you’re jumping at shadows, you’re getting just as paranoid as you say this Frank Black guy is. He’s almost gotten you killed already, and the police are after you in Pennsylvania. I think you’re in way over your head and you should just—”

“Give up?”

“Yes.” Tracy looked at him. They stared at each other for a moment, Tracy’s features stony, immobile. “Just… I’m sitting here watching as you… as you… just… I don’t know, this is just crazy !” Tracy threw her arms up in the air in defeat, her voice taking on a tone of frustration. “I hate seeing you like this, and I hate what Frank’s been doing to you!”