The Assigned (16 page)

Bale moves closer but he’ll have to step over my dead body to lay a finger on the Prophetess. “It is fine Tre,” she says. “He will not attempt to harm me here. It is bad for his image.”

“Why Anna,” says Bale, too close for comfort. The Shadow slowly rises around his torso. A grayish haze appears to ooze from his pores, although not as strong as I’ve seen in the past. It’s almost like he controls its flare. But no matter. As I look around, I’m reminded no one can see what I’m getting firsthand account of right now.

“Little Anna. Age has made you bitter. Look at you. Your hair is gray, your face wrinkled—”

“And my heart is pure.”

“That may be true.” Bale whispers, his face just inches from Prophetess Anna’s ear. “But one thing I am certain of is that you and your wannabe superheroes are way out of your league.”

I’ve had enough. “How ‘bout a wannabe a—uhh, a wannabe butt—kicking.”

“Cute. Well it’s been great catching up on old times Anna, but I have other pressing matters to attend. I’ve had enough church for one century.”

Bale and his men make their way to the front door. “When it starts, we shall be ready!” affirms the Prophetess.

“So be it,” says Bale as he and his Angels exit the church. Smoke-like vapor dissipates in the air as star-struck teens follow the men out.

“I can’t believe it!” I shout. “Can you?”

“We must begin training immediately,” says the Prophetess with little emotion. “Bale knows who you are. Contact the others and tell them to meet me at my suite in thirty minutes. Even I am not sure as to all Bale has in mind.”

“No doubt. Got it. We’ll be there.” Prophetess Anna heads for a side entrance. “Prophetess! Anna! Where are you going? You need to stick with me.”

“I shall be fine, my child.”

“Well how are you getting home?”

“I have friends,” she says, never turning back.

Friends?
There’s little time to process her statement as I walk out front to make sure Bale has left the premises. I watch as the white stretched Hummer slowly takes off from across the street. Loosening the knot in my tie, my mind readies itself for battle.

The obnoxious ringtone of my phone serves as a noon wake-up call. It’s Tre. I let it go to voicemail. Another encounter with angels and demons or demons that call themselves angels, can wait. It feels good just being home with my family. No hospitals, no strangers walking in and out at all times of the night, just … family.

Me and Alicia stayed up most of the night and watched as Christina played with her new toys, a surprise from some of the staff at the hospital. To see my daughter do something as simple as play with a new doll has made the last year all worth it.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” I yawn from the couch towards Alicia.

“You were sleeping so well, and besides, Chrissy and I were having some girl time.”

“Look Daddy!” smiles Christina, while pointing to her freshly plaited locks. “Aunt ‘Licia did my hair!” A great improvement over my beautician skills.

“It’s beautiful baby. Good job, sis.”

“Thanks Zeek.”

Having acquired my first attention of the day, Christina happily skips to her room.

“You never said anything about my hair,” beams Alicia, her hand gently sweeping across her recently acquired short-styled cut. “And stop calling me
sis
all the time.”

“Huh,” I murmur, sticking my head in the fridge.

“Nothing, Zeek.”

I hear Alicia just fine but I dare not entertain that conversation. Alicia has been my rock since Angelina’s passing. She’s been a mother figure to Christina. I couldn’t have made it without her. But Alicia is my wife’s sister. Her best friend. True, it’s been four years, but I don’t think there will ever be a large enough span of time to make me see her any different. Although, I must say I am secretly happy she decided to chop off her hair. She looks a lot less like Angelina now.

“I may have to go meet some friends later. Not sure when I’ll be back. Think you could—”

“Of course. Don’t I always,” she says. I think I sense a slight attitude in her tone.

“Thanks sis—Alicia.”

“You’re welcome,” she smiles back. “So what’s been going on anyway?”

“Whada you mean?”

“I mean … I don’t know. You’re … different.”

The thought causes me to smile. “Yeah, guess I am huh? I’m just happy, that’s all. Christina’s good, you’re good, I’m good!”

“Angel would be happy to see the man you’ve become.”

The statement makes me love the younger sister even more. Maybe not in the way she’d prefer, but in a manner that cherishes her nonetheless.

Christina drags an expertly crafted wooden rocking horse from her room into the hallway. She bucks the swaying toy, while mimicking the horse’s neighs. Funny. I hadn’t noticed the expensive-looking present until now.

“I don’t remember that one from yesterday,” I say.

“It’s not,” answers Alicia. “It came this morning. Priority shipping.”

“On a Sunday?”

“Yep. Came with a note. I decided I’d let you open it.”

“Hmph.” I tear the envelope as Chrissy shouts, “Giddy up!” to the imaginary animal. A small handwritten note rests at the bottom of the packaging.

It would have been my pleasure in presenting the real thing, but I decided against, as to not appear too forward. So please accept this hand-carved 1948 Rowling classic as an alternative. Hopefully you and your daughter, Christina, can visit my stables one day and ride my collection of thoroughbreds. Let me assure you Mr. Myers, or Zeek if I may, I am all for family and would never harm a child or employ someone that did. Hopefully one day we can sit down and talk. I could use a man of strong conviction like you.

Eternally,

Bale

Panic rips through my body. “Chrissy, get off that thing!” I shout, wrestling my child from the ever-creaking animal. Its entire appearance seems to change as the horse’s flared nostrils look ready to spew out a venomous mist.

“What’s wrong Zeek?!”

“Quick! Get down Alicia!”

Christina screams as I heave her and myself to the floor. We wait. For what, I’m not sure, but I won’t be caught off guard.

“It was just a—”

My finger signals silence to Alicia.

“It was just a gift,” she whispers. “What’s the matter with you?”

We wait. Moments go by and nothing happens. The more I think about it, the more I know nothing is going to happen. At least not now.

The ridiculous ringtone Christina selected for my phone brings a slight sense of normality to the moment. Not recognizing the number shown, something, nevertheless, propels me to answer.

“Zeek, my friend. Did your daughter enjoy the gift?”

“Just who the hell do you think you are?! You come after my family?! I will k—”

“Enough, Mr. Myers. I mean your family no harm. Think about it. I could have done that already if that was my intention.”

I hate to admit it but he’s right. “So what do you want?!”

“You didn’t answer my question, Mr. Myers.”

“What?!”

Bale speaks in a slow, calculated tone. “Did your daughter … enjoy the gift?”

“What do you think? Of course. She’s a kid.”

His demeanor picks up. “Well great! I wanted to make sure I got something that would make an impression.”

I say nothing, not knowing what to make of all of this. “Are you there?” he asks. “Zeek?”

“Yeah. Is that all?”

“Actually, I was hoping you’d take a ride with me.”

“What? Are you crazy? And leave my family here to—”

“Zeek … Zeek. We’ve been through this already,” Bale says calmly. “If it was my intent to harm your family, it would have already occurred. I merely want to show you something. I’m sure a lot has been said about me. I just want to share my side of the story.”

I look over to Chrissy and Alicia. They watch as I ponder my next statement.

“When?”

“A car is outside waiting for you.”

“Five minutes.”

“Of course. See you soon.”

The quicker I get this guy and his goons away from my apartment, the better. With no immediate threat in sight, I let Alicia know it’s okay to get off the ground. “What’s going on, Zeek?” she asks.

“I’ll tell you about it all later. Just know everything’s okay.”

“I wanna go Daddy,” says Christina while playfully hopping on one foot.

“Not this time baby,” I respond before gently kissing her forehead.

“Daddy, can I ride my horsey again?”

I look around the room at all the things Christina didn’t have before yesterday as I finally concede, “Sure baby, you can ride the horsey.”

***

Minutes later my hands ball into fists as a driver approaches. “Mr. Myers,” he nods, merely wanting to open the rear door of the white limousine. I look around before hesitantly easing into the crisp-smelling vehicle.

We drive for what seems like an eternity. The clock on my phone confirms about twenty-five minutes. Part of me is tense, not knowing what to expect. The other half is still anxious, but more in the vein of how Christina acts on Christmas Day just before we open presents. Although I wasn’t a believer, I never denied Chrissy the wonder of opening gifts. And now, part of me feels like that—ready to see what’s about to be opened. And that’s the part that scares me.

After a few deliberate wrong turns and repeated circles around the same part of town, we make our way to an old warehouse located on President’s Island. Most of Memphis is located on a bluff and the island is a major spot for factories. Not technically an island, but more of an inlet, the island is usually not frequented by anyone unless they work in the area. A good a spot as any, I guess, for a hideout. Or to hide someone.

The silent driver opens my door before nodding to the entrance. One of Bale’s security detail is positioned out front. Dark-skinned with dreads, I recognize him from the club. We had a good go at it. I wait for my powers, or whatever they are, to flare, but nothing happens. Looks like I’m going in on my own. A sarcastic grin widens across the guard’s face as he mumbles,
“Follow me.”

Inside, the dimly-lit storage facility has been emptied out. Doesn’t seem to have been used in years. Bale’s man leads me up a steel staircase. His hand motions me to stop, before leaving me perched on a walkway high above ground level. Must have been used by managers to keep an eye on the workers. Not sure why they would leave me up here. Not a good spot for an ambush, with the view as open as it is. While I wait, several men and a couple of women are escorted in by some of Bale’s men—Angels, I believe he calls them, noticeable by their trademark white suits. The people they accompany separate into two lines. The formation looks almost militarian in nature. Some of them look to be pulled straight from work, still wearing various uniforms. A bus driver, doctor, some guy who looks like he works in a cubicle. Maybe they were ‘softly kidnapped’ like me. Next, a policeman and a thin man with glasses enter.

What the—

Peering down, I now see the policeman is
The Policeman!
Although a ways off, I’m sure of it. And the thin man with glasses is the same bastard that tried to take my daughter. Part of me wants to jump down right now and beat the crap out of them both, but I’m not sure I’d survive the drop. Even for what I’ve been able to do so far, that’s a bit much. And it doesn’t feel as if I’m getting much help in the form of superhuman powers right now. Looking more closely, the short man in the white lab coat looks familiar as well. I’d bet money he’s a doctor at Christina’s hospital. Who are these people?

Bale’s Angels take their spots behind the group as the man himself makes his entrance. Jason Bale quickly glances up to my exact location and winks. No one else seems to detect my presence as I hide in the shadows of the rafters. Guess he would obviously know my whereabouts, it’s his show. And it hits me just like that. He wants me to watch.

The separated groups of people act as aisles as Bale begins to pace back and forth between them.

“Ministers, I thank you for your time,” he opens. “I know you are busy spreading the gospel of Bale and your diligence is duly noted. I would also like to thank you for your quick response to …” Bale looks my direction while picking his words carefully. “… to our little situation. Rest assured it is being handled.”

“So is it true the Three of Three are back?” asks a man in a suit and tie.

“Hardly,” replies Bale. “Just a cheap replica. Do not concern yourself with them. Our ministry shall go on as planned.”

“I saw one of them,” says the doctor. “He could … heal.” His voice ignites my memory. The doctor I bumped into in the hospital bathroom. And come to think about it, he had the Mark tattooed on his wrist. But why does Bale want me to see this? It makes no sense. He can’t possibly think that letting me sit in one of his meetings would make me want to join his exaggerated book club.

“Yes, Dr. Echols,” continues Bale. “They have
some
powers. But you have
my
power. Nothing compares to that. And so that brings me to why we are gathered here. You all have been decreed with great responsibility. To spread the gospel of Bale. And for that purpose and that purpose alone, I endow you with powers beyond your wildest dreams. Am I not gracious?”

The men and women loudly praise Bale before he quiets them. “It has come to my attention that one of our brothers has used his power in a manner unbefitting of a minister.” Bale slows his pace, stopping in front of the same bifocal-wearing savage that tried to abduct Christina. “What is your single purpose?” Bale asks the unassuming man.

“To uhh …” I can hear him gulp as he tries to finish. “To spread the gospel of Bale.”

“I can’t hear you!”

“To spread the gospel of Bale, my Lord!”

Bale clinches his teeth. “To spread the gospel of Bale … exactly.” His face loosens as he resumes his pacing. “Thank you minister. You all are my ministers and your single purpose is to spread the gospel of Bale. To venture into every aspect of society and recruit for my ministry. To show them another way. And for carrying out this duty, do I not give you the desires of your heart? Do I not afford you abilities you never thought possible? And how do you use these gifts?” Bale once again stops in front of the balding, thin man. “To aid in pleasing your sick, twisted flesh?” The others distance themselves from their nervous colleague. “You endanger our global ministry, and for what?!” To satisfy your sickening cravings! Give me your wrist.”

The shaking subordinate snivels out words. “My Lord, I’m sorry. I couldn’t control myself.”

“That won’t be a problem after today. Now give me your wrist!”

The man reluctantly holds out his arm, the Mark tattooed on his right wrist.

Jason Bale extends his hand. Black, smoke-like vapor emits from his index finger, swirling around the man’s wrist. Like a lasso, the blackness tightens its grip around his wrist as it appears squeezed. He grunts as his circulation is severed. Another vein of mist seeps from Bale’s middle finger, seeming to pierce through the man’s skin. The Shadow takes the form of a scalpel as it begins to physically remove the tattooed Mark, skin and all, from the screaming man’s arm. The others, as well as myself, grimace as a sizzling sound is heard while the Shadow continues to tear through the man’s arm. “You do not deserve to wear the Mark of Bale!” yells Bale as the Shadow swirls around the enraged actor. Actually, that term doesn’t describe Bale anymore … whoever he is. A grotesque scowl covers his face. The piece of tattoo-covered skin falls to the ground as Bale grabs his weakened follower by the neck. Black veins surface in the man’s paled face. “Now return what I have given you!” The man gasps for air as the Shadow emits from his profile. As if sucked through a vacuum, the haze is consumed by the even larger Shadow of Bale. The dying man ages before our eyes as he struggles for air one last time. Lifeless, his head bows over as Bale releases his hold. “Do you not understand what I am trying to give you?” An emotional Bale asks as he pats his tussled hair. “What I want to give the world? I want to show them another way!”

As his guards remove the man’s body, I’m not sure what to feel. This is what I wanted, right? For the wicked man who wanted to do god-knows-what-to my child—to suffer the most horrible death possible. Even if he suffered this at the hands of my enemy? Isn’t the enemy of my enemy my friend? And why do I refer to Bale as my enemy? I don’t trust him, but he could’ve made a move on me already. There’s so much I don’t understand.