The Assigned (17 page)

Bale addresses his remaining ministers. “My father and my father’s father have waged war against one another for Millennia. And for what? Their conflict is pointless. Neither wants to completely destroy the other. But I ask … why does there only have to be TWO choices?”

A look of confidence swells over Bale’s face. “But I, Bale, come to the people as an
independent candidate.
My father’s way was wrong. No longer will we creep and hide. I will openly show this world the power that is rightfully theirs.”

One of Bale’s men approaches. “My Lord, we should be leaving if we’re going to catch our flight.”

“Ministers, you have your instructions,” continues Bale. “Now leave me.” Not wanting to be the next example, the various men and women quickly exit. Bale looks up and turns his attentions to me.

“So tell me, Mr. Myers. What did you think?”

“Think? I
think
you just killed a man.”

“Yes,” Bale chuckles. “But is that not what you wanted?”

“I didn’t ask you to do me any favors.”

“True. But I wanted you to see, with your own eyes. Everything you’ve heard about me is not true.”

“Well I haven’t heard much. You give yourself way too much credit.”

He laughs. “I like you, Zeek. A man like you would be very useful to my ministry.”

“Thanks,” I say. “But if it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll pass.”

“Why? Because of what the old woman has told you? Because of the little taste of power you’ve experienced? Come. Let me show you true power. A power you could only dream about. Let me show you another way.”

“Like I said, I’m good. But thanks for—”

“—for destroying your enemy …”

“… for the offer. Now am I free to go?”

“But of course, Zeek. And you don’t have to admit it now, but I know there’s something in you that wants to know more. How long will you allow the Other to string you alone? There is a revolution happening. Now whether you’re a part of it or not is up to you, but trust me, the people have spoken. I will reveal to them the true power.”

Bale’s Shadow swirls around him like flames.

“They will freely wear my Mark. In fact … they will beg for it …”

The unexpected aroma of bacon causes me to reexamine the apartment number on the front door. Spicy bacon, to be more exact. It smells like my mother’s special recipe. She made it often during my childhood but I haven’t smelled the strong, peppery odor in years.

Setting my keys down on the table, it looks as if it’s been polished.

“A’ma, where are you?” I ask cautiously.

“In the kitchen, my love,” hums a cheerful voice.

Neither the words nor tone belong to the woman I left home a couple of days ago. It’s her voice alright, but that’s not A’ma. Can’t be. I slowly creep to the kitchen, not sure what or who I’ll find.

“A’ma?”

“Hi sweetie, I’m making your favorite …”

I nearly stumble at the sight my eyes uncover. Standing before me is a fully dressed woman that
resembles
my mother. Her hair is curled, make-up applied, posture erect. “A’ma, you look so … pretty,” are the first words that come to mind. Well, because she does. “… and young.” I’d almost forgotten what my mother looks like, so many years hidden behind tattered nightgowns, pills, and vodka bottles.

“Thank you, Mija,” says the now attractive forty-something.

The stove is filled with breakfast delicatessens. “I feel great,” smiles A’ma as she pours pancake batter. The cooking, the clothes, the warm words, it’s almost too much. But I dare not let go of this moment. Who knows when or if I’ll ever get it back?

“Well are you ready to eat, sweetie?”

“I’m starving, A’ma,” I say, sounding like a little child. Kind of feel like one too. “A’ma, I know I haven’t been around much lately, but all that’s going to change.”

“It’s okay, Mija,” she says. A name she’s used ever since my childhood. “We’ve been through a lot. I want to tell you how sorry I am for holding things from you. I just didn’t want you to hurt the way I hurt … the way he hurt me.”

“So the Deacon, he knew right?” I casually ask while biting into a piece of steaming sausage. “I mean he knew he was my dad?”

“Of course darling. He left us, Gloria, don’t you see?”

I don’t want to argue. Things are too good now. “Yes A’ma.”

“Besides, it’s a new day,” A’ma says as she stacks more pancakes onto my plate. “New opportunities.”

“You’re right A’ma. I’m glad you’re better. I’ve been praying for you.”

“Hmph,” she grins. “Well all that matters is that I’m here and I’m ready to be
your
mother again. No more taking care of me.” A’ma kisses me on the cheek, and my face can’t help but beam as I bite down into the endless stack of pancakes. What I would give to stay at this table forever.

“So it’s just you and me now, right sweetie?” she asks.

“Um hmmm,” I nod, my mouth filled with homemade biscuits covered in honey butter.

“Good,” says A’ma finally biting into the meal she’s prepared. “You don’t need those new friends of yours anyway.”

“Whada you talking about, A’ma?”

“Those nice young men told me about those crazies you were hanging out with. You don’t need them anymore. You have your A’ma back.”

My fork drops as I force down the remaining food in my mouth with one swallow. “What young men, A’ma?”

“Oh the nicest young men came by,” she says unaffected. Finally, A’ma looks up, chewing as she speaks. “They showed me another way Gloria … and I can show
you
.”

As I hear the familiar words, my body nearly goes limp. I jump from the table, distancing myself from my … mother. Emotion rings from my voice. “What are you talking about A’ma?”

“Everything is okay now, my little Mija. Trust your mother.”

And then it starts. Smoke-colored mist ascends from A’ma’s body. “No,” I cry. The price paid for the previous moment is unbearable. My mother stands before me as one of
them
.

“Don’t cry Gloria,” she says, now standing. “I can make it better. I promise.”

“A’ma! Why! You don’t know what you’ve done!”

“Shhh, it’s okay. Now come, Mija.”

As A’ma moves closer, the Shadow radiates around her body. “Stay back!” I shout, but the life-like substance glides through her skin, continuing its seduction. My senses flare as my heart accelerates. Adrenaline fills my veins. I too can feel power surging through my body. Power I don’t want to use on my demon-influenced mother. But I have to do something …

Rebuke
.

My earlier lesson with the Prophetess comes to mind.
Subduing one without causing severe bodily harm.
But where is the line drawn? I haven’t had time to master the move. Besides, my emotions flood any logical thoughts.

“Let me show you another way,” A’ma repeats, her voice changing by the second. I haven’t much time to think either, as the Shadow tightens its grip around my deceived mother. Impatiently, my body waits. Allow my mother to make the first move, physically bring it to her like she’s one of Bale’s men, or try the Rebuke. I have no choice.

“ARRRHHH!”

A war cry roars from my belly as I run straight for A’ma. A demented vapory scowl leaps from her as I advance but it’s not enough to hinder me. I stop just short of full-on contact with A’ma, my fingertips barely grazing her abdomen. The light touch throws her ten feet back before A’ma falls violently to the floor.

My God, what have I done! I can barely look her way as tears pour down the same cheek kissed by that other woman just moments ago. My eyes closed, I cry to myself, not wanting to see the damage inflicted to A’ma. A familiar voice forces them open.

“Why am I on this floor, Gloria? And why am I wearing this dreadful skirt and is this—is this makeup? Is this your doing, Gloria? You know I despise anything touching my face! Is this how you treat your flesh and blood?”

Although wearing the same new clothes, A’ma’s countenance has definitely changed. She looks like the old A’ma. And her rant is increasingly recognizable.

“Esto es ridiculo!”

“Oh, A’ma!” I sob, running to my mother. No, I wouldn’t trade this moment for the world.

-----------T H E A S S I G N E D-----------

A silky fog rises from the street, a result of the brief afternoon rain. Surrounding my SUV, it reminds me of the Shadow. But this haze isn’t evil in nature. At least, I hope. “Come on Glo, pick up!” I shout through the phone. She and Zeek have been out of pocket for the last hour. My mind can only wonder as I sit at this prolonged red light.

Sensing someone watching, I slowly turn my head towards the passenger window. Three guys in an old Chevy pick-up stare back. My age or younger, they look like …

Those are Martin’s boys!
I vaguely remember them from one of Martin’s brief loan-request visits, although I can’t be too sure. The prior rain fogs the glass. Holding up the peace sign, I yell, “What’s up?!” through the slightly cracked window. The fellas stare back emotionless before finally taking off.
Ooookay
, I think out loud, pulling off from the light. My path is cut short by a miniature, pink ribbon-wearing terrier standing in the middle of the street. Why do the smallest dogs bark the loudest? Guess he’s got ‘little man’s’ complex. I blow the horn, but the obnoxious dog is determined to hold his ground in the center of the rain-drenched lane.

“Give me a break—move Benji!”

Easing the SUV up a bit does little to move the diminutive canine.

“Finally!” I shout as the dog’s owner runs out into the rain to retrieve the stubborn pooch. The hooded owner smiles and waves as she scoops up the animal.

“Yeah, yeah, just get out the way,”
I smile back. As I wait, the owner’s eyes grow dark. Weird. Fog from the street rises up around her. Wait, that’s not fog, that’s—

BAMMM!!!

“AAAHHH!” I scream as something crashes atop my hood. “What the …?!” It punches through the windshield, shattering the glass. A Persuaded! He growls as black vapor swirls about. Gathering my wits, I slam on the gas and take off down the four-lane boulevard.

“Wait a minute, I know you!” I yell as the possessed man lunges for my face. He’s one of Martin’s friends from the truck.

“Shut up, follower!” he shouts back. I try to shake him but the Persuaded doesn’t budge. Fog, swirling black mist, and the two-hundred-pound man stuck in the windshield make the roadways nearly invisible. So much so, I barely see a second Persuaded standing in the middle of the lane. Tires squeal as I swerve, trying to avoid the slender man. The two-ton vehicle jolts to one side. Looking out the rear view, I can see the Persuaded sprinting down the street, passing cars with ease. His power is definitely amped up.
Where’d he go?

The sound above indicates the roof. My eyes confirm as I look back to see a hand punching through the top of the vehicle. “Come on, man! I just got this truck!”

My speed approaches 65 in the 45 mph zone. Wrestling the first Persuaded with one hand, I drive with the other. The second Persuaded continues ripping a hole in the top of my Cadillac.

“Okay, that’s it!” I shout, eye to eye with the first demented man. “You want some of me?! Come on!” I grab the Persuaded, pulling his torso through the windshield. Delivering blow after blow to the guy’s face, he somehow finds a way to keep his grip. We swerve through traffic as rain pellets shoot through the shattered glass. I can feel the air pour in from behind as the slender Persuaded makes his way inside the truck. Now fully in the cabin, the second Persuaded makes an attempt for my head. Sensing him just in time, I land a forearm to his chest. The brutal blow throws the slender man back to the third-row seat. I turn the forearm into an elbow, bestowing vicious force to the temple of the nearer Persuaded. The foot soldier flies back out onto the hood of the truck. His body contorts as we take a sharp turn into the adjoining street.

“Will you fall off, alrea—” The slender Persuaded chokes the living daylights out of me! I can’t see or breathe. For most people, panic would set in, but in my case, my adrenaline only pumps harder. I reach for his hands as his accomplice makes his way back into the front of the cabin. His Shadow glistens as it sways in the dense atmosphere.

“My turn,”
grins a set of sharp teeth. I’m having a hard time focusing, my head taking a bevy of blows, while constricting pressure is applied to my neck from behind. The assault is coming faster than my body can heal. “So that’s how you wanna play it, huh?” I moan under a barrage of punches. “Okay, fine!”

I slam the pedal all the way to the floor. The V8 engine cranks out massive pounds of torque as the speeding bomb accelerates to near 90 mph. I unlatch my seatbelt as the Persuaded continue their strike. Their hands seem to be glued to my face and neck.

“Here we go again,” I say, slamming on the brakes.

SCREEEECH!

The car buckles as it comes to a pounding halt. The Persuaded and I fly out the shattered front windshield, head first. We soar at least fifty feet before crashing through the window of a Luigi’s Pizza Parlor.

“Bad idea,” I moan. Not sure how long I was out but a crowd has surrounded me. Quickly, I jump up looking for, “the Persuaded—AOUUWW!” A sharp pain shoots through my shoulder.

“Sir, don’t move,” says an employee. “I think your shoulder is dislocated.” He’s right. My left shoulder droops in an awkward position. People squirm as they watch me pop it back in place.

“Wait a second,” says a Luigi’s customer. “Look at his face.” The crowd marvels as lacerations disappear from my body. “Oops,” I smile, good as new. The two Persuaded, still knocked-out cold, look like regular men. That is, regular men that just got thrown through a window from a speeding vehicle.

“Well nothing more to see here folks,” I say, saluting the crowd. “Sorry about that. Enjoy the rest of your meals.”

“Hey, aren’t you TNT Turner?”

“Who me? Oh no. I get that all the time though. Probably a distant rela—”

“Lie still ma’am!” shouts an employee as I make my way to the door. “I’m calling an ambulance!”

A woman, not much older than me, bleeds on the floor. A large shard of glass protrudes from her side. The woman, in obvious pain, grimaces as she tries to stay conscious. “I’m going to help you,” I say, kneeling down beside her. “Just relax.”

“Are you a doctor?” she asks through clenched teeth.

“Uhh, something like that. Now this may sting for a second, but just trust me.”

Distracting her as she nods, I pull the long shard of glass from the woman’s side. Shrieks of pain fill the small eatery. Finally dislodged, blood gushes from the large gash left by the errant blade. I place my hands at the top of the wound and close my eyes as I focus. Blood seeps back into the gash as it closes. A few moments later, the young woman feels just fine. She looks down in disbelief.

“Wha—wha—what did you do?”

“I believed.”