Makaila

Makaila 71 to 80

Judy was a student of humanity all her life, but not until she signed on with the carny did she realize how narrow her education had been. As much as she studied and analyzed social cultures, she quickly realized she didn’t understand anything. She never suspected she was a snob and an elitist.

“We’re not rich, but we’re far from poor – real far. I’ve never really wanted for anything, yet I think I understand the subcultures that want for mere existence. I’ve been looking at other peoples not as people at all. I’ve been seeing them as silly little monkeys to be studied, like I’m looking into a cage or something.”

“You got all this from slinging hash?” Makaila winked.

“No, I got this from standing in the cage for a day.”

“You were in a cage before, just you didn’t see who’s looking down studying you. One group of silly little monkeys watching another group of silly little monkeys.”

“I don’t know.” Judy took Makaila’s hand as they walked over the quiet carnival grounds. “My world and how I see the world is topsy-turvy. Nothing’s as it was two days ago.”

“That’s what Megan said would happen.”

“I look back over things and I can’t believe I’m here, absent from school, out of communication with my friends and family and working in a carny.” She squeezed Makaila’s hand. “In love with a thirteen-year-old.”

“Almost fourteen. We went over that.”

Judy blushed. “Yes we did. What are we going to do now?”

Makaila looked at the stars and gauged the moon’s position in the sky. “Almost midnight. I made my goals for the day.”

“Which were?”

“I’m alive and I’m free.”

“See? That’s what I mean. Freedom and survival have always been a given for me. My goals were always way out ahead of me. I can’t remember a time when I didn’t think about college, where I would go, what I’d major in and do after I graduate. I even have my wedding dress in a box at the foot of my bed.”

“You’re getting married?”

“Always thought so. Someday. Now, I’m not sure I’ll meet anyone I’d want to marry. I just assumed it’d happen.”

“I got this way of looking at things. It’s like I live in my head more than I don’t. Like, there’s two of me. I got this body and I got in my head. Lot’s of people over the years told me how these two hook up, like the two are really one, but I’m not sure who to believe.”

“I guess it depends on how you look at it. Are we spiritual living a temporal existence or are we temporal having a spiritual experience – or both?”

“Neither. You’re thinking too dualistically now.”

“I don’t think so. It’s obvious we have a body and it’s just as obvious we have a soul.”

“You just slipped into science fiction, Ms. Scientist!”

“I don’t agree. There has to be something about human beings that animates us in a way other things aren’t animated. We’re not the same as a rock or even a chicken.”

“A soul?”

“The Bible says that God breathed into Adam, giving him spiritual life.”

“I don’t know anything about religion.”

“That’s right. You’ve never been to church. Want to go?”

“Where?”

“To church.”

“I guess. Megan wants me to do a show passing myself off as speaking for God, I guess it would be good to see what this God’s all about.”

“You’re kidding? In some places that could get you burned at the stake.”

Makaila nodded, amused. “That would just give them another reason.” She drew a deep breath and composed herself. “Do you think all this happens to me because God’s like mad at me or something?”

“I doubt it. That would mean you’d really be important to God, I guess. Like He’s got you singled out.” She thought for a minute. “Jesus.”

“Jesus? Like the Christmas guy?”

Judy giggled. “You really don’t know anything about religion, do you?”

Makaila stopped, looked to the ground and pushed dirt with her shoe. “Sorry.”

Judy put an arm around her. “You don’t have to know anything about religion. I’m just surprised you don’t. Christianity permeates our society. It’s hard to stand in the water and not get wet.”

“I’ve been too busy trying to figure out my own head. I haven’t had time for hobbies.” She dropped to the ground and crossed her legs. “Sit. Teach me about Jesus.”

Judy looked down. “I don’t think I’m the one to do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because – how do I say this?” Judy bit her lip, silhouetted against the stars. “I don’t really believe.”

“Yet, you talk like you do? Habits?”

Judy sat, facing Makaila and took her hands. “Yes, I guess so. I’ve been too busy with other things to have any hobbies, too.”

They laughed at God and themselves.

Mike was a competent magician with a full roster of tricks. No two shows were the same. He was a much better showman than a magician. However, his act was entertaining. Mike would play to the crowd, not from a script.

Jill, his wife and assistant, was a joy and a delight, the perfect distraction when Mike made a mistake. They worked together seamlessly, their act popular.

When Makaila wasn’t watching Megan work, she spent time watching Mike and Jill, taking in all the subtleties that made their act work. She liked Mike and was drawn to him.

“I wish you could have been my dad.”

Mike laughed. “I have no children of my own for a handful of very good reasons.”

“It’s my fault.” Jill was matter-of-fact.

“Is not. But, that is one of the good reasons.”

“I had some problems when I was your age and can’t have children. That’s why Mike doesn’t have any kids, no matter what he says.”

“I made the choice long before I met you. Never was in my cards.”

“That’s true,” Makaila told Jill. “You shouldn’t keep blaming yourself ‘cause it gives you a shadow.”

“A shadow? What do you mean?”

Makaila rolled her eyes. “I got like no idea what I mean. I see stuff and just don’t have the real words to explain it.”

Makaila put her hamburger on her plate and reached across to take Jill’s hand. She closed her eyes. “You got like this idea the problems were your fault so you’re being punished. You got this other idea that giving Mike a kid would be a gift for him and it’s your fault he can’t have this gift. Really, it’s you that wants to have a kid, not like have a kid running around. You want to have a baby in your belly.

“So you shadow this disappointment onto Mike as if it’s his and not yours.” Makaila’s eyes popped open. “This like distracts from your love for each other. It gives you a shadow.”

Jill blinked hard three times. “You’re thirteen?”

“Almost fourteen, thank you very much.” She sat back smugly. “Don’t know why you can’t see this thing standing between the two of you. Look in the mirror. It’s in your face.”

Mike took Jill’s other hand. “These years with you have been the best of my life. I couldn’t ask for more nor would I change anything. I told you when we met, and hundreds of times since: I’ve never wanted to be a father. Tell her what happened.”

Jill closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Makaila jerked her hand away. “God!”

Jill shuddered.

“I get it!” Makaila almost sang. “What was it Judy said?” She jumped up, went around the table, stood behind Jill and placed a hand on each cheek. “Give me room to work here. I want to try something.” To Mike: “What did you say to me in the woods? Oh, yeah. Something about asking forgiveness.” Giddy, Makaila pulled Jill’s head back to rest against her stomach. Under the open-sided dining tent, she raised her hands and closed her eyes.

“Come, my little friends.” Butterflies of every variety came from all directions. “Judy told me what we deny we give life to. You got like this thing giving you pain and you deny it and it just gives you more pain. You like hold onto what you’re ignoring.” Makaila swept her hands down to Jill’s face, the butterflies following like a scarf dancing on the breeze. “Give it all away to our little friends.” She swirled her hands into the air, sending the insects lightly scattering. “Be free of this.” She finished with her hands back on Jill’s cheeks. “Life is good.”

Jill cried. Makaila giggled and wrapped her arms around her friend. “Life is so good.”

Jill shivered and sobbed, finally looking up at Makaila. Makaila wiped Jill’s tears with her hands, smiling, bent and kissed her deeply on the lips. “I like this kissing thing.” She rolled her eyes.” How do you feel? I feel great!”

Jill finished drying her face on her sleeves. “I don’t have the words.”

Mike snapped from a hypnotic stare. “Now there’s a miracle! My wife lost for words!”

Jill looked at Mike with a wiry smile. “We have thirty minutes until show time. I have something to share with you, in the trailer.”

“I think I know what it is, too!”

“Thirteen?”

“Almost fourteen, thank you very much!”

As Mike and Jill hurried off, Makaila became aware of everyone staring at her. “What?” She offered open palms. “What?” The carnies returned to their meals with smiles and shaking heads. Makaila finished her hamburger and fries.

Far across the lot, spellbound, Judy watched Makaila. “I’ve never seen anything like it, short of science fiction movies. I couldn’t explain it if I tried.”

Megan nodded. “Don’t try, Judy, friend of Makaila, she-who-is-like-God. The understanding is not in the temporal. Our myths, the stories of old, dance with tellings of this one.”

“Those are just stories, though.”

“Myth and legend are how all gods are made. Most believe they are just stories, musings to let the imagination dance where the feet can’t walk. There are some of us who understand the myths and legends are a map of what was, with hints at the future to be.”

“What is the future to be with Makaila?”

Megan looked toward the sky. “God has the plan.”

“Which is? Do you know?”

She pointed across the lot to where a child stood with her face upward to dancing butterflies. “You’ll have to ask she-who-is-like-God.”

Judy felt light-headed, holding onto Megan’s arm. “Can you really see the future?”

“No. What do you wish to know?”

“Makaila.”

“You ask if she will die soon?”

“Yes. I ask exactly that.”

“Just look.” Megan nodded toward the dining area as Makaila took Jill’s face, Jill’s tears poured forth. “This world will not tolerate one such as her.”

Judy’s eyes welled, her stomach heaved. “I won’t let that happen.”

“There is nothing you can do, other than die with her.” Megan smiled and leaned her head on Judy’s. “And, if that’s your choice, you won’t be alone.”

Judy buried her head in Megan’s shoulder. “I will not lose her.” She pulled back the tears and sorrow. “You said the future isn’t set. You said no one knows the future.”

“Makaila said some choices have already been made.”

“We help her find other choices?”

“If we can.”

Judy felt as if her sanity slipped away. She thought at one time she could see herself giving up her life, as she knew it, and devoting her being to Makaila. She found she did just that. I’ve lost my sanity for sure, but I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.

“I’d die for her.”

“Other way around, if we can believe the stories.”

“She’s positively glowing,” Judy told Makaila as they stood in the crowd watching the magic show. “What did you do to her?”

“You saw that? Nothing really. Look at poor Mike. A bit tired wouldn’t you say.”

“I don’t follow you.”

“I’d guess he got it like he never got it before.”

“I see, I think. But, what’d you do?”

“Nothing, I told you, really. She just thought I did.”

“Explain.”

“I wish I could. I just got like this feeling. Jill had this stuff, bad feelings she ignored, she was holding onto. She let them go.”

Judy nodded. “Yeah, okay. I follow that. What we deny we give power to.”

“Well duh, yeah. You told me that. That’s how I knew.”

“But, what did you do? How did you know to do it?”

“I didn’t do anything. I have no idea. I like just put the puzzle together.”

“The butterflies –”

“What about them?”

“How – why – what did they do –”

“It’s a trick. No reason. Nothing.”

Judy crossed her arms on her chest and raised an eyebrow.

“Really! It’s just a trick. You hold your hand a certain way and catch the sun a certain way and they come. Cat showed me how to do it.”

“In a dream.”

“The dream. I can show anyone how to do it, though Mike couldn’t get it. I think his hand’s the wrong shape or something. I bet you could do it. Our hands are like almost identical.” Makaila’s eyes got big. “Oh-my-God!”

“What?”

Makaila ran off into the crowd. Judy caught up to her at the dining tent. “What?”

“The bitch lied to me.”

“Who?”

Makaila pointed to where she, Mike and Jill sat under the tent. “No sun. Now I really don’t know.” She turned to face Judy, took her friend by the arm and shook. “Every time I figure out an answer, they change the God-damn question!”

Judy looked with sad eyes, putting the back of her hand on Makaila’s cheek. “It’s okay. It doesn’t matter how it works or even what it does. I think it’s cool any way it works.” Judy held Makaila. “I got some work I have to do.”

“I should be hanging with the witch.”

Makaila didn’t go to Megan’s tent. She left the grounds, wandering into the woods. Sitting on a small rise overlooking the carnival, she watched the activities below.

“You lied to me.”

“Never.”

“You said it was the sun and shadow that brought the butterflies –”

“Did not. I just showed you how to hold your hand, like I was holding mine. The sun and shadow helped you see what I was doing.” She nodded hard twice. “You assume too much sometimes.”

Makaila looked at her sideways. “I wish I could read your subtle body.”

“If wishes were horses.”

“Why Cat? Because you’re stoic and act like you know everything?”

She laughed. “Now you’re being real silly. It’s not like a magical or Indian name. It’s a nick.”

“For?”

“Tell you what. If you can guess my name, you get your baby back.”

“Huh? Rumpelstiltskin?”

“Oh, right. That’s a different story.”

“I gotta ask your opinion on some stuff.” Makaila’s tone carried the weight of thirteen-almost-fourteen years.

“This is great!”

“What is? That I have questions?”

“What was your IQ again? No, silly. This is the first time you asked for my opinion. Before you always wanted me to tell you stuff like I know it all or something.”

“Butterflies?” She nodded hard, twice. “Butterflies.”

“You’re catching on.”

“Tell me about God.”

“What about him?”

“Okay – God’s a he?”

“Fine, then. What do you want to know about her?”

Makaila rolled her eyes. “No gender?”

“Yeppers.”

“Why’d you say He?”

“Take a guess.”

Makaila sat back, put her feet on the railing and stared down to the lake. “‘Cause we don’t have a word for someone that doesn’t have a gender? Yeah, that’s the answer.”

“What’s that do with this whole God thing, then? You just did it.”

“You said He and I thought of a guy. So in my head, I get this picture of a guy and make him wear all the guy stuff?”

“You asking me or telling me?”

“Telling you, of course.”

“Good. Tell me more about this God.”

“I don’t know all that much. It’s confusing.”

“Don’t think beyond what we’ve already talked about. You want some coffee? I got some Turkish that’ll curl your hair.”

“I gotta get back.”

“The world’s going to keep on spinning without you.” Cat winked.

“Sometimes I wonder. Sure, bring it on.”

“It will, trust in that. I’ll brew up the coffee. You brew up the answer.”

“Deal.”

“First off,” Cat announced as she returned with two large, steaming mugs. “There’s lots of folks that demand proof that there’s even a god in the first place.” She sat, passing a mug. “You can put this stuff in your mouth and never doubt again.”

Makaila, with the mug in both hands and eyes closed, smelled the coffee. She put the mug to her lips and her eyes popped wide open.

Cat, with her head tilted back and narrow eyes, asked: “Am I right or am I right?”

“If it was legal, I’d ask you to marry me.”

Cat giggled. “By the time we’re old enough, it may be. Ask me then.”

“I’m old enough now. I’m emancipated.”

“I know. Larry told me.”

“Mr. Elderage?”

“It’s because of him we have the coffee. He brought it. Should have stayed for fish. He was out catching dinner.”

“Here?”

“No, stupid. On the lake.”

“Wait a minute. Larry Elderage was here?”

“He comes now and then. He can’t stay away from me. I’m too cute to resist.”

“It was you!”

“So tell me about God. What’s the mistake?”

Makaila took a deep breath, knowing she wasn’t going to get a direct answer. She narrowed her eyes. I’ll come back to it. “There’s a God. Turkish, coffee’s the proof. Okay – God. I’d walk out of here thinking God was like some guy if I took what you said on its face, like if I believed you know what you’re talking about.”

Cat nodded.

“So if I like read some old book and I believe them guys, I walk away really not getting the point, just getting their point.” Makaila sat back, smug.

“And?”

“Like butterflies. I took it to mean one thing and you meant another.”

“And?”

Makaila blinked hard twice. “Even though I went away with the wrong idea, I got the right idea, like stumbled on it eventually? No. Not a question. I’m telling you.”

“Good.”

Makaila watched the sky through the trees. “When you did that to me, it wasn’t the butterflies that made me feel that way, was it?”

Cat smiled. “How’d it make you feel?”

She thought, looking into Cat’s face. “Don’t really have words for it. Kinda like I had these heavy chains on me and they all dropped off at once. But it wasn’t the butterflies, was it?”

“What do you think?”

“Of course, it wasn’t.” She looked at her palms with wide eyes. “Me?”

“You think?”

“No, I don’t.”

Cat smiled.

Makaila sipped the coffee thoughtfully. “It makes people feel good.”

“It does. Ask Bossman and Jill.”

“But, anyone can do this, right?”

“I guess. I don’t know. When I was younger, a couple a years back, I used to think so, now I’m not so sure.”

Makaila closed her eyes hard for a moment. “Let’s get back to God.”

“We never left. More coffee?”

“If there was only one cup left, I think I’d kill you for it.”

Cat stood and leaned close, giving Makaila a stern look. “You could easily kill anyone in the world, but for me.” She smiled and kissed her quickly on the lips. “Let me get the coffee.”

As she sat back down, Makaila went right at her. “That’s it, isn’t it?”

“That’s what?”

“Must you always do that? I mean: the killing and the butterflies is like the same thing, just different ends of the same pool?”

“I guess that’s one way to see it.”

“I could have done butterflies in the woods instead of killing them?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never been in the deep end like you have. I got like nothing to reference it from. I can’t kill.”

“You said you would have blown that guy’s head off.”

“I said I would have if I was you. If my life depended on it, I’d have had to have someone else intervene. Been there, done that, got the coffee mug, tee shirt and the bumper sticker.”

Makaila looked to the ground. “That makes you a whole lot better than I’ll ever be.”

Cat laughed hard. “Other way around! It’s my fatal flaw! If it had been me instead of you, Audrey would be dead. That is, unless I found another way. I might have made it clearer to Timmy, got help before running in the woods. Something like that. It’s too easy to call the play after the game’s over.”

Makaila nodded. “I gotta expand my thinking, huh?”

“That’ll come as you spend more time with people. You get the idea of more options in all things.”

“Okay, again. God. What do you think?”

“I think God’s just like you.”

“Don’t even start that.”

“You didn’t hear what I said. I think the animating force that manifests all creation as we perceive it is learning about creation, just like you.”

Makaila nodded again, slowly. “I’m not a done deal. I’m different everyday.”

“As is the universe.”

“You’re saying the question: What is God? has no answer?”

“I would think the question is the answer.”

Makaila nodded yet again. “Okay, enough with God. Tell me about witches.”

“I hear they live in the woods, in candy houses, and eat children that are sent away because parents don’t know how to be parents.”

“That’s just a story.”

Cat tilted her head back, narrowing her eyes. “Is it?”

“I haven’t seen anything in the newspapers about such nonsense.”

“Close your eyes and tell me what you felt when you first saw Megan.”

Makaila drained her cup and sat back with her eyes closed. “I was pulled toward her. I wanted to throw my arms around her and hug her to death.”

“Candy.”

She rolled her eyes. “Candy. A treat. Something we’re drawn to. Yeah. Okay. My parents send me away because they couldn’t take care of me. Megan wants to eat me?”

“Consume you. Same difference.”

“So she’s a witch?”

“If she says so, I guess.”

“Are witches real? That’s the question.”

“Are Republicans real?”

“Well, yeah.”

“What makes them real? Something they’re born with, like in their wiring?”

Makaila squinted toward the lake trying to see the answer. “It’s a club they join? Yeah. They sign up. But, witches are different. They like are related, aren’t they?”

“If your mom’s a witch, then you are?”

“Same could be said for Republicans.”

“Don’t confuse genetics with tradition.”

“So witchcraft is a tradition?”

“We could call it that, but I wouldn’t.”

“What would you call it?”

“Butterflies.”

“Butterflies?” Makaila looked out over the fair grounds and said to the trees: “Ah, sure, butterflies.”

“I think we should fold up the tents, shut them down and run for cover,” George Potter told Elderage. “We’re skirting a mass insanity here.”

Elderage smiled, his feet up on his desk, dreaming of butterflies and fish. “Not long ago, you were bored to tears. Now you have something interesting to work on.”

“If things keep going the way they’re going, we’re going to see some deaths and it isn’t going to be pretty.”

Elderage sat up. “Now you’re a fortune teller?”

“They believe this Makaila acted for God, confronting and destroying an evil in the guise of a school teacher. They believe she was murdered in jail and is coming back from the dead to have one last battle with evil. The newspaper is stirring things up with a bunch of nonsense about evil cults. I don’t have to be a fortune teller to see a mass suicide or worse heading their way.”

“I’m pulling you out.”

“You can’t. These are good kids and they don’t stand a chance.”

Elderage swiveled his chair, facing the window. “There’s been a development. They can’t be our concern right now.”

Damn – I should have seen this.

“Makaila’s MIA. I need you to find her.”

“Won’t happen.” Potter dropped a plastic bag containing a bloodstained towel on the desk. “I have no idea what our resources are, but if this guy can’t find her, we don’t have a chance.”

“You got him?”

“Yes. And, if they crack the codes I used, we’re all going to disappear off the face of the earth.”

“That’ll happen sooner or later anyway. We might as well go out standing on our feet trying to do the right thing.”

God – I hate to sound like Cat.

“So, who is he?”

“Jordan Aristotle Harshaw.” Potter ran the DNA himself. “He’s not a spook, not anymore anyway. Where’d you get it?” He nodded toward the towel.

Elderage snickered. “Makaila took his ear off with a shotgun when he twitched.”

Potter showed a rare look of surprise.

Staring deeply out the window, Elderage closed his eyes. “Run him down for me.”

“He spent his childhood in foster care. The record’s not clear why. He has a juvenile record splattered with acting out and antisocial behavior. As a teenager, he landed in a reform institution. When he was seventeen, he was recruited into the Service.”

“With that record?”

“Remember – different times. The Service was looking for people who had no problem stepping outside the rules now and then. People they could control. I can’t be sure, but this reform institution might have been a farm back then.”

“Molding young minds, eh?”

“Something like that. He was cultivated.”

“To do?”

“What he was told without question. He served overseas in covert ops for a few years then came stateside with a position in the original Special Crimes Commission. This was a government agency set up to convict suspects charged with particularly violent crimes. Their charter was to do whatever it took.”

“Does that mean what I think it means?”

“Not in its conception. It seems in the sixties, they expanded the charter to include some questionable tactics. Again, these were different times with social unrest and the threat of communism. Many people were willing to look the other way if it meant preserving freedom and our way of life.”

Elderage opened his eyes. “Do you like to fish?”

“Fish, sir?”

“Yeah, fish. Float on a lake in a canoe in the middle of nowhere. A place where not even a plane goes over.”

He ignored the comment. “They stepped over the line too many times and were disbanded, all of this done in secret. I’m surprised they kept the records. Harshaw was the director at the time and disappeared, well died, when the agency disbanded.”

Elderage casually pushed the plastic bag. “Seems he’s not dead. The kid should have aimed two inches to the left.”

“Everything disappears after that. Do you want my guess?”

“Sure.”

“With all that money moving around, Harshaw skimmed off the top, invested and funds the agency himself, operating through the shells.”

“Good way to run a government agency. Self-funding through investments.” Elderage snickered and then looked dark. “He’s a fixer and a loose cannon at that. He circumvents the system he thinks he’s protecting.”

“That would be my guess.”

“Choices? Can we take this to the feds?”

“There’s no evidence here. It’s all guesswork.”

Elderage’s jaw hardened. “No legal recourse?”

“He’s dead – doesn’t exist. He must have faked his death.”

“Think I’d retire.”

“Really?”

“Not a chance. I think I’ll retire my morals, though. How do you feel about that?”

Potter looked to the floor. “That’s why I left the Service.”

“Give me another choice, then. Playing defense isn’t getting us anywhere but back on our heels.” He pulled Makaila’s picture out of a file and placed the photograph on the middle of his desk. “Look at this face, Potter. Could you kill to protect her?”

“I don’t know, Mr. Elderage.”

“Make up your mind and let me know. Out there is not the place to hesitate.”

Potter picked up the photograph, examining it carefully. “I’ll go.”

Elderage smiled. “Good. Go over the file, find her and get next to her. Do what has to be done.”

Morals are a slippery business, Potter thought as he left Elderage’s office. He knew exactly what Elderage meant. He did everything but say: Find Harshaw and kill him, the obvious solution to the problem, a solution similar to what Harshaw used to fix problems. If Harshaw’s crime was this, then how could I do as Harshaw did and be right?

He punched the keys at his terminal, loading the latest information into the program he designed. Makaila’s name popped up all over the map. “Texas? Chicago?” Potter sat back in his chair and scratched his chin. He brought up the map of the United States. “It’s unlikely she’d head out to a place she didn’t know anyone. Here.” He placed a finger on Ohio. “Or here.” He moved his finger to New Jersey. “The only reason to head west is misdirection.” She’s good, but she’s not that good. He drew a line on the map from Ohio to New Jersey. “She’s here somewhere.”

Potter reconfigured his software, found a cup of coffee and waited for a flag to pop up. His mind wandered to Larry and Arianna, mostly Arianna.

Jordan Aristotle Harshaw was a creature of some habits, but few. He believed in altering his schedule everyday, with the intent of being random. Repeated patterns allowed him to do what he did. Within the patterns of other people’s lives, he could detect where they would be in the future and at what time and place they’d be vulnerable, if it were vulnerability he needed.

Looking at patterns of someone’s life, movements and spending habits, he could glean what they hid from others, for whatever reason they had. All levels of power in society: people on the bench, public officials and law enforcement could be turned to climb on his payroll. Everyone got paid for his labors. Everyone deserved to get paid.

Harshaw bought justice from a system too often unable to deliver.

He knelt on the cool ground and pulled stray grass from around a grave marker. “You never could take care of yourself.” He placed a single white carnation across the grave.

He could almost hear her voice: You know I’ve been busy.

“I’ve been busy, too.”

It won’t always be this way. College will end, you’ll leave the Service and we’ll raise a family.

It would not be that way.

“God, I miss you.” A tear inched down his cheek.

His wife of three months was murdered by the random act of a lunatic, his third victim and last. Harshaw saw to it personally. The courts were convinced, after the first two murders, if he stayed on his medications and continued treatment, he wasn’t a danger to himself or society.

They were wrong.

Society is like a child that needs an adult to take care of it.

Standing, he took his present-day wife’s hand and looked across the cemetery to watch his two children playing on a bench. “I will make this world a much safer place for them before I’m gone.”

“I know you will.”

Sally leaned in the door. “Phone, boss.”

Elderage stared out the window, almost in a trace. “I told you not to bother me. Handle it.”

“It’s Makaila Carle –”

Elderage had the receiver to his ear. “Hey, kid. How’s the underground?”

“Hey, Moses. How’d you know?”

“Joseph called. Are you okay?”

“Scared to death deep down, but keeping a level head.”

“You’re going to have to change location as soon as we hang up. I’m sure my incomings are traced.”

“I wasn’t born yesterday. This is a very expensive phone call.” She giggled. “It’s bounced like all over the world. Coming from where?” A laugh and muffled voice sounded in the background. “Vilnius. That’s the capital of Lithuania. I’m told it’s got my name all over the wire, too, so if they’re looking, they’ll see me.

“I just love a good geek. It’s what I want to be when I grow up. If I grow up.” She giggled again. “The voice is like completely scrambled, too, so we can talk. Here’s what I got.

“There’s this clown after me –”

“Jordan Aristotle Harshaw.”

“Okay – Pops says he’s a spook or something. I didn’t hang around long enough to find out what that meant.”

“Government agent who acts in secret.”

“Boy, I spent my childhood whining that no one wanted me, now the whole world does!”

“Just this guy. He’s acting on his own. He’s a private guy. There’s another, but I’m not sure who she is. Let me find the notes.”

“That would be Jo McCarthy. Nice lady, doesn’t take a good bullet.”

Elderage blinked hard, twice. “You sound more and more like someone else I know every time we talk.”

“Buy a clue, Mr. Elderage. I’m nothing like Cat, not one bit.” Makaila finally understood why Cat talked like she did. It was fun.

Elderage laughed. “Okay. I’m with you. You sure no one can understand our conversation?”

“Sure as I can be.”

Potter rushed through the doorway without knocking. “I found her, Mr. Elderage. You won’t believe this. She’s in Poland!”

“Actually, northeast of Poland. You’d better adjust that software of yours.”

Potter looked toward the ceiling. “Of course. The phone exchange on the cable generated an error. Lithuania?”

Elderage held his finger up. “Where are you, really?”

“A little burg called Library or south of it. That’s in Pennsylvania for you non map-heads.”

“Library, Pennsylvania.”

Potter inspected the ceiling again. “Right on my line, south of Pittsburgh.”

“What are your plans?”

“Call you so you can call Pops and tell him to tell everyone I’m okay. Lie. Tell him everything’s dandy. They don’t deserve to have to worry about me all the time.”

“Beyond that?”

“Don’t know. I can’t get my mind much past the next meal, you know. I think we’ll go to church later on if I can find one that’s not locked up.”

Potter unfroze. “Tell her I’m on my way.”

Elderage nodded. “I’m sending a guy to you. He’ll help keep you out of trouble.”

“No! No one’s safe around me. It’d just give me another person to worry about.”

“No one’s safe anywhere, Makaila. Not really. Cat told me that and you should know it. Having George Potter with you will give you more options.”

“Now you sound like her. Okay, I’m at the carny. Tell him I’ll watch for him. He won’t know me. Who’s this McCarthy?”

“Look for a bike and leather. I thought you knew.”

“Close encounter of the third kind. Is she friend or foe? That’s cool. I’ve never been on a motorcycle before. Tops my list of stuff to do before I die.”

Elderage shuffled through his notes. “Let me see what Powers said. Ah, yes. A detective from New Jersey. She was running down leads on missing children. Seems your name got in her file.”

“I see. So she’s after me ‘cause she thinks I’m missing, not like this other clown.”

“Seems this other clown is after her.”

“Got it, yeah. He’s the reason I went missing. She must of figured it out. She knows too much. Not bad work for a detective from New Jersey. I guess I won’t kill her if she shows up again.” Makaila laughed darkly. “How’s Larry?”

“Not your concern.”

“Well, that says a lot. Is he dead, yet?”

“I believe he’ll be okay.”

“That’s the first lie you ever told me. I’m disappointed, but I understand.”

She’s too much like Cat. “He’s grouped together with other teenagers in a club that’s drawing a lot of attention.”

“Must be bad attention. What kinda club?”

“Don’t you have enough problems of your own?”

“It’s a slow problem day, Mr. Elderage. What kinda club?”

“They’re calling it a cult.”

“What do you call it?”

“A cult. The guy I’m sending you has been on the inside.”

“A spy?”

“You asked for information, and that was the only way I could see to get it.”

“I follow. Are they like over the edge? Like what’s their focus?”

Elderage hesitated. “I’m not going to try to lie to you because I know I can’t. They’ve set themselves up as good versus evil and are waiting for their god to return from the dead to lead their fight.”

“Wait a minute. Larry is less religious than I am.”

“Maybe you don’t follow. The god they wait for is you. You are their Jesus.”

After a long pause: “I’m not dead.”

“They think you are.”

“I don’t get it. How’s the Christmas guy fit it?”

“The Christmas guy?”

“Yeah – Jesus – the Christmas guy. How’s he fit in?”

“You don’t know the story?”

“I’m really religion challenged, Mr. Elderage.”

“I don’t think I’m the one to explain it to you.”

“Everyone talks about it, but everyone says they’re not the one to explain it. Okay. That actually makes some sense now. I’m dead and coming back to life to do what?”

“Save the world. That’s the basics. The rest is details.”

“Larry’s gotta be doing some weird drugs or something.”

“Actually not. They’re about as straight as you can get.”

“I’ll ask my bud what she thinks about this. He’s slipped his rational mooring. He’s not nuts like me, so there’s gotta be a reason. Send your guy. I’ll pump him for information, so tell him to give it up. Okay?”

Elderage understood what Cat meant when she said Makaila didn’t need protecting. “I’ll tell him no secrets.” The only reason he held back information from Makaila was to protect her. He realized just how stupid that reasoning was.

“You overheard. Any questions?” he asked Potter.

Potter held his hand out and took the telephone. “Hello, Makaila. I need something from you.”

“Hi. Who’s this?”

“Call me George.”

“What do you need, George?”

“I need a message from you to your brother and proof that it’s from you.”

Makaila’s mind worked on the combinations and permutations. “A message from God. They need to go underground?”

“Yes.”

“Got your pen and paper ready?”

He didn’t, but didn’t need it. “Yes.”

“Times of great danger are coming fast. You must get your heads down and keep your mouths shut. You must not attract attention in any way. You must act as normal as you can and hide in plain sight. That which I gave you in the darkness, look within and you will find one with seven. Quote that exactly and it should do it.”

“What’s that mean – one with seven?”

“He’ll know and you don’t have to. We gods have to be mysterious.”

Bixby hung up and went directly into Harshaw’s office. “Marks can’t get access. The police have the building closed off and are evacuating.”

Harshaw stared. “Could she have made a call? Did you pull the phone records?”

Bixby turned on his heels and returned quickly with a printout. Harshaw scanned it, punching numbers on the telephone.

“Damn, how can this be?” Harshaw was back from Ohio and in his office in just over three hours. “She made two calls. Look at the times.” He passed the sheet forward.

“Oh, she was dead.”

“Apparently not.”

“Okay, she called in a bomb scare. Why? To lock up the building. Why? To give someone time to get her research records. She must have guessed we’d go for them.”

“Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive.” Harshaw closed his eyes. “Something my grandmother used to say.” He grimaced at his desk. “Clean it up, all of it.”

Bixby narrowed his eyes.

“Send the fed bomb team in and take over from the locals. Clear and secure and set an explosive device in the apartment.” Harshaw put his head in his hands. “Do that, give the all clear. Wait, then blow the device.”

Bixby looked toward the ceiling. “Event Horizon’s too vast. Too many casualties.”

Still talking through his hands: “You’re right. Lock the building down with the fed team. Clean the apartment. Make sure you get everything. We have to clean this web up, not make it bigger.” He looked up with tired eyes. “And, let’s find this child. She’s the most dangerous person I’ve ever come up against. Draw a map of every Event Horizon we have so far. I want to see the diagram on my desk first thing in the morning. We have to tie this all up.”

Bixby nodded and left the room. He knew their charter and he knew their mission. He knew their every action, every Event Horizon carefully thought out, was meant to protect national security. He never questioned his instructions because he knew he didn’t have all the information. He didn’t see the big picture. Bixby trusted his instructions came from someone who did see the big picture.

However, setting off an explosive device in an apartment building full of people made his skin crawl. Purging information was important, but this had nothing to do with the original Event Horizon, which was to remove a danger from society – a psychopathic child who murders at will. Bixby was relieved Harshaw changed his mind. He may have questioned his instructions for the first time in his career.

Bixby hadn’t been sure who the cop was. He knew, when Marks fired his gun into her chest, she was an immediate threat to the Event Horizon. After glancing over her file, he realized she was just an innocent victim who got herself in crosshairs of national security. There are many casualties in war. No one person was more important than the greater safety of a nation. An apartment building full of people? That was a different story.

He had his team together, was on location and had the information secured in less than forty minutes. The team disappeared as quickly as they appeared, leaving the locals to scratch their collective heads.

George McCarthy with his secretary stood in his niece’s apartment and said aloud: “What have you gotten yourself into, Jo?”

George Potter had his first argument with Larry Elderage. Elderage told him to head straight out to Makaila. “I have to try to do some damage control first.”

“Don’t waste a lot of time.”

“I don’t consider saving lives a waste of time.”

“Have you considered that just maybe the ship’s sinking and all you’re doing is rearranging the deck chairs?”

“Of course, I have. If that’s all I can do, that’s what I’m going to do. Besides, who knows? Shifting the chairs around just might shift the weight and the ship won’t sink.”

Elderage stood, turning to the window. “You don’t really know what’s at stake here. I don’t even know. Nevertheless, I’ve learned to trust who I get my marching orders from.”

“Maybe in time I’ll have that trust for your instructions.”

“Maybe.” If you live that long – if any of us do.

“Keep your head up and watch your back, George.”

The kneeling group of praying candleholders grew to twenty-three. George shook his head, wondering how so many people could get the wrong idea. Do I have the right idea? He pushed the doubt from his mind. Doubt, he knew, was healthy and called for reflection. He also knew doubt could be a hobgoblin of the mind and bring death as quickly as anything.

“With the protesters out there, you’d think this was an abortion clinic or something.” George greeted Arianna at the door.

“They’re just misled.” She smiled nervously. “They know not what they do.”

“That could be said for any of us. Get Larry and meet me in the office.”

The room Arianna used as her office had a door affording privacy.

“I have news.” George wrestled with how to handle the situation. From his own way of thinking, he thought to be candid with full disclosure of everything. When he saw Arianna’s hungry eyes, he knew any rational argument wouldn’t do.

Behind the closed door and with wide eyes, he spread his arms. “I have had a vision of her.”

Arianna lit up, Larry grimacing skeptically with narrow eyes.

George leered hard back at Larry. “I don’t blame you for not believing me. I don’t believe it, either!”

Larry returned the glare. “Tell us of your vision, then.”

“She told me to say: Times of great danger are coming fast. You must get your heads down and keep your mouths shut. You must not attract attention in any way. You must act as normal as you can and hide in plain sight. That which I gave you in the darkness, look within and you will find one with seven.”

“What’s one with seven?” Arianna asked Larry with a tug on his arm.

“It’s a test, something only her and I know. A secret.”

“Then the vision is real?” she asked, her eyes begging.

“Don’t know.” Larry left the room, returning quickly with a teddy bear. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, he took open the seam with a ballpoint pen. His mind worked backwards, recalling stitching up the bear, crying. He fished out a small purse and unzipped it. Stuffed inside, he found a bloodstained envelope.

“I’m not sure I’m to know what’s inside. I was told not to look.”

“That which I gave you in the darkness, look within and you will find one with seven,” George repeated.

Larry, hands shaking, opened the flap and counted seven photographs. He couldn’t help himself. He looked. His cheeks flared red, his eyes tear-filled. He forced the envelope in the purse and purse back into the teddy bear. Raising his fists to the ceiling, he screamed from unimaginable pain.

Arianna fell, wrapping him up in her arms. He slapped her hard in the face, pushing her to the floor, Arianna bouncing off the desk along the way. On his feet, he screamed again, flipping the desk over. George tried to get his arms around Larry, finding the wooden chair smashed across his shoulder. George staggered to keep his feet but couldn’t.

Larry threw himself against the wall, pounding his fists until blood ran down his arms. He slid to the floor, rolled into the fetal position and cried.

George took Arianna’s face in his hands and forced her head back, pushing her eye open. “You’ve got a burst blood vessel,” he said matter-of-factly. “I have to get you to the hospital.”

In all the time with the group, he made his first mistake. He dropped his act.

Arianna blinked hard into his face. “Who are you?” Fear washed over her. She tried to pull away. “Larry!”

Somewhere deep in the recesses of his mind, Larry found an ounce of sanity and gathered himself. He worked to his feet and pulled George by the underarm off Arianna. Cold, deeply, he said: “You’d better go. You’re not welcome here any longer.”

Arianna hung onto Larry, crying in his shoulder.

George tilted against the pressure on his arm. He thought to drop Larry with one punch, again. He was caught and knew it. Calculating their mental state, he knew he was now cast out. They wouldn’t believe anything he said. He realized something else he missed with this group. He was focused on playing his role. He hadn’t noticed he fell in love with Arianna, a woman ten years his junior.

He pulled his arm from Larry’s control. He didn’t bother continuing the act. “I am not your enemy, but you have many out there. I’m telling you, you have to take a low profile.” He looked at Arianna. “Your life depends on it.”

Larry sneered. “First you claim to speak for her, now it’s you telling us?”

“Come on, Larry. You’re a smart person. Makaila’s not dead and never was.”

“Blasphemy.” Arianna muttered into Larry’s shoulder.

“You and all your people cannot stop what’s to come,” Larry said through his teeth. “Go.”

“Arianna.” George pleaded. “Come with me.”

“Go to hell. You just go right to hell!” She found her anger, fueled by disappointment. She undid herself from Larry and pushed George, her good eye flashed with an inner fire. “Get out!” She pushed again. “Get out!”

George thought to kidnap her, quickly changing his mind. He did the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life: he left, hearing the front door slam behind him. Instead of rearranging deck chairs, he poked a hole in the side of the ship. Before he mounted his motorcycle, he did one last thing. He found Pastor Stevens among the protesters and dragged him to his feet, going nose-to-nose.

“If you instigate anything bringing about harm to any these children, I will hunt you down and send you right to your god!”

I guess Elderage has his answer. He twisted the throttle, filling the air with a roar.