J. Gonzalez - They

Then one of them stood up. He was tall, with black hair that was turning gray. He was dressed in tan slacks and a white polo shirt, and looked trim, muscular, and powerful, like he might be a banker or a corporate CEO. He had that aura of power. He smiled, his green eyes a blaze of fire. “Mike! So good of you to join us.”

Recognition set in and Mike felt paralyzed. He hadn’t heard that voice or seen that face in over twenty-six years. “Tom,” he said.

From below, dimly, he heard Frank Black yell that he was coming up the stairs.

Tom Black smiled. “Yes, Mike, it’s me. Remember Gladys?”

Mike’s eyes rested on the woman seated next to him. She was middle-aged, but she wore it well. She was dressed in a tan business suit, her stylish hair settled on her shoulders in a perfect wave. She nodded at him, her make-up expertly applied. Mike noticed a gold necklace around her neck that glimmered. “Gladys.”

“Dad… dad ?” Jimmy’s voice sounded tinny, far away. The connections fell into place as he cast his eyes around the room and when it was made he thought he was going to scream.

Kimberly Peterson, three years old, the perfect age, innocent, pure, just what they used, the blood was so pure, so thick, so sweet, they used the blood of children in their most important rituals, he knew that, it was in all the research he’d done on them, it was in all the interviews he’d conducted with the few witnesses that had gotten away and were locked up in mental institutions or were homeless, just another crazy living on the outskirts of society and they all said the same thing. They used the blood of children, of innocents, and the sweetest sacrifice was one in which the child came from your own blood .

His eyes locked with Carol Peterson’s from across the room. The Carol Peterson that looked across at him looked the same, but she was not the same woman he’d known and loved for almost forty years. She smiled at him. “How could you have guessed?”

Mike started, confused. “Carol?” Did she just read my mind ?

“You’re right,” she said, as the others rose in unison and took a step forward. “The sweetest sacrifice, and the most powerful, is one where the child comes from your own blood.”

From behind him, he felt Frank Black approach, heard Frank’s voice. “What the fuck?” Felt the rush of air as Frank stormed into the room, gun drawn.

Mike didn’t even have time to scream before they swarmed over him and the shooting began.

VINCE WALTERS AND Tracy Harris waited at a little café on Venice Beach for almost three hours.

They spent most of that time talking, looking out at the boardwalk and the ocean. The boardwalk was crammed with joggers, roller-bladers, people walking dogs. There were street vendors hawking everything from bootleg designer clothing and perfumes, to ice cream and hot dogs. On the beach, sunbathers caught the last rays of the sun, and scratch volleyball games were underway. The cry of seagulls blended in with the hum of traffic, and the steady bass thumping of rap music that boomed from large boom boxes carried on tattooed shoulders. Vince and Tracy sat at their table and talked, their eyes hidden by dark sunglasses as they finally ate a light dinner of salads and chicken sandwiches.

Vince tried to call Mike at two-thirty with his cellular phone. He got no answer. “Try Frank,” Tracy suggested. They had ordered drinks and were nursing them in the warm afternoon sun.

Vince tried Frank and got a busy signal.

“Well?” Vince said, pushing the antennae down.

“Well,” Tracy said, looking out at the ocean.

“What do you think we should do?”

“You can’t get in touch with them?”

“Nope.” Vince shook his head.

Tracy frowned. “Hmm. Well… they did tell us to get a room nearby.”

“And we have one,” Vince said. Before they stopped at the café, they’d secured a room at a Best Western half a block away.

“We could go back to the room and keep calling,” Tracy suggested.

Vince felt nervous. “What if we still can’t get in touch with them?”

Tracy pursed her lips, thinking. “Mike did say that if we don’t hear from them, we should drop out of sight.”

“Drop out of sight?”

“Or we can go home.”

Vince couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Aren’t you afraid of… of what might happen?”

“What might happen, Vince?” Tracy looked at him. “You tell me. We’ve come here at Mike’s request, now he and Frank don’t show up. They fed us this bullshit that this spooky devil cult is on to us, and they can’t even so much as show up and—”

“Suppose they got them?

“And who is they ?”

Vince looked at Tracy as if she’d gone crazy. He didn’t know what to say; his mind was a jumble of emotions, all fighting to the surface. “You bug the shit out of me last night to get you involved and… and…”

“Listen,” Tracy rested her hand on his forearm, her features softened. “I’m sorry. I know I was a pest last night, and I really was angry at being left out. I really did want to be included. But… what else can we do? We were given explicit instructions. Now things haven’t gone according to plan. They may have gotten to Frank and Mike, and if that’s happened we have to know about it. And the only way to know is to go back and—”

“ No !” Vince was adamant. He wasn’t going back to his home.

Tracy’s grip on his wrist tightened. “Hear me out for a minute, okay?” She glanced around quickly and Vince looked around, too. Nobody was paying attention and he felt the tension slacken.

Tracy leaned forward, her voice lowered to a whisper. “If they’ve gotten to Mike and Frank, we don’t know about it, right? So we go to our places and get our stuff, okay? We tell Brian we’re taking time off from work and we go into hiding. We go somewhere we know they won’t even think of looking for us. Montana or something. Hell, we’ll go to Alaska. Surely you’ve got to have enough money in savings to tide you over for a few years, right?”

Vince nodded. Along with stock options, he was worth a couple of million dollars if he cashed out on everything.

“Then we shack up together, live under a different name, whatever it takes to be far away from this place,” Tracy continued. “Maybe we’ll learn the truth and find out that Mike and Frank really just decided to drop out of the investigation.”

“And not tell us?”

“Why not?” Tracy took her sunglasses off. Her green eyes were reflective. “Maybe they tried contacting us. It doesn’t matter. Maybe they just decided the best way was to… just run away.”

“Frank… run away?” Vince shook his head. Tracy Harris didn’t know Frank Black.

Tracy ignored him. “And if they did, maybe that’s for the best. You know?” Her touch became soft now; her hand caressed his arm. “Maybe it’s best to leave things alone. What happened in the past is the past.”

Vince wanted to argue the point, but for every argument he had, Tracy had a counterpoint. They continued the discussion on their walk to the Best Western. Once behind locked doors, Tracy slipped out of her clothes. “I’m done discussing this. Try calling them again and see if you get an answer. I’m taking a nap.”

Vince watched her for a moment, sitting on a chair near the bed. Then he pulled the cell phone out and tried both numbers again. Neither man picked up.

Vince closed his cell phone, but kept it turned on. Tracy slipped into bed. She fluffed a pillow and lay down on her left side, her back to him. Case closed.

Vince sat in the chair for a while, watching her. Maybe Tracy was right. Maybe it was time to stop this mad chase. Where had it gotten him? Nowhere. He was no closer to finding out what had happened to his mother than he’d been last month.