Purge: Book Three: Last Days Trilogy Read online

  “Translate.”

  “If my hands and feelings are right: he digs her.”

  Devante’s eyes widened. “But a few days ago, you drew them battling. They must not be fighting anymore.”

  “Well.” Todd bobbed his head. “If they are, they’re gonna stop soon.”

  “This is not good.” Devante began to pace. “This presses us for time. This screams union between the two. In any way, union is not good. That is a sign they are ready to build an army.”

  “So is it time to move along with the ‘mom’ plan?”

  “Yes.” Devante moved to the door. As soon as he stepped from the back room, he saw Leonard approaching from the other end of the hall. “I need the mother. Release her so we can speak fully. Soon, the army of light will gather.”

  “Which...” Leonard spoke up, “brings me to a concern.”

  “That is?” Devante stopped and turned around.

  “I know you keep saying you need this Reggie. I’m gathering she’s a vital part of the opposing force?”

  “It is more than that. Though it is unclear what.”

  “OK, now just because this Reggie person is a strength, it doesn’t mean her mother is. Lillian is weak. You are sending her into enemy ground alone. That’s not good. They’ll break her if they find out.”

  “Then we send her in with someone.” With a “there, it’s settled” attitude, Devante walked away.

  “Will that be good enough?” Leonard pursued. “And are you absolutely sure that this woman is the way? She’s not strong at all.”

  “It does not matter. She is still a weapon. We need to hit them through the mind as well as the sword.”

  “I understand that,” Leonard pleaded. “But my sense is… we’re rushing with this woman.”

  “We must. We have no choice, because my sense is…” Devante stopped. “Sooner than we believed, the war nears.”

  SANITY…

  Sitting down to journal, my initial idea was to pen my frustrations and jealousy over the Michael and Reggie situation. I opted against that. I have to let it go. If it’s meant to be, it will be, and there is nothing I can do to stop it. Admittedly, the scientist in me balks at the notion that something cannot be controlled. The truth of the matter is, I am driving myself and everyone around me insane over this crap. No one wants to hear about it, anyway. My ninety-year-old Aunt Rose demonstrated that best when she cut me off mid-sentence to discuss the great sex she used to have.

  I walked away.

  Walking away, doing nothing, that was never the story of my life. Now, I’m useless. The world doesn’t need a deducing mind; it needs a fighter. Reggie is power-training. Kyle plays watchdog, radioman, and farmer. My mother seems to be the keeper. Aside from educating Seth, who has a shorter attention span than his mother, I am stuck with Herbie making swords.

  Swords.

  Twelve years of higher education and I’m stuck shaping aluminum siding pulled off of vacant houses. For Herbie, this job makes sense. Pounding metal on cars was what Herbie did for a living. One would expect him to be totally in charge of making weaponry. However, as I have quickly learned, things never go as expected. Herbie has graduated from Swordmaking 101 to soldier-in-training.

  How did that happen?

  Don’t get me wrong; my efforts do not go unappreciated. Michael continuously makes sure to tell me that I do a fine job, and never forgets to say, “Thank you Marcus, you are a jerk.”

  What’s the use? In reality, I don’t know what I want. I don’t want to make swords, and to be honest, the idea of soldier-training wreaks havoc on the side of me that spurns physical exertion.

  Maybe this is all a silent punishment, a way to make me watch the world fall apart. Or perhaps, I am in a thinking pause. A break from everything, so I can devise a way to stop the calamity I have begun.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Seville, Ohio

  Where they once were only two feet tall, now Kyle’s tomato plants towered over his corn stalks. As he walked though his garden, he laughed, for two reasons. One was in amazement; the other was at Marcus.

  “Kyle, you’re not listening,” Marcus said. Seth did his best to keep up with them.

  “I’m listening.” Kyle stopped at a plant flourishing with ripened tomatoes. “This is the one. Son of a bitch, lookie here.” He grabbed a softball-size tomato. “Never had this.” He turned his head to the right. “Seth, try to keep up with that bushel.”

  “Kyle, please,” Marcus beckoned.

  “Marcus, what is it you want me to tell you?” Kyle put the tomato in Seth’s basket. “Are you right? I don’t know. Is this based on a dream?”

  “Partly,” Marcus explained. “I ignored the dreams before. Not this time. I saw Michael. I heard him. He kept saying, ‘I will need her, Marcus.’ But what happened before....”

  “What happened?” Kyle asked.

  “Seth was teaching Michael how to play a video game. Reg and I…” Marcus dropped his voice to a whisper. “We decided to take advantage of the alone time. We were being very intimate when Michael barged into the room. And he barged in, Kyle, almost panicked.”

  “Maybe what he saw frightened him. Keep in mind, he learned from An Affair to Remember. So his idea of a big love scene is watching a door close.”

  “No, it wasn’t that intimate. My hand was on her breast.”

  Seth dropped his basket.

  Kyle winced. “Is this the type of education you should be giving my grandson?”

  “Michael’s reaction is what worries me.”

  “Exactly.” Kyle pointed. “Michael’s reaction. So he has some feeling for her. So what? He touched her and liked it. A little jealousy is rolling in ‘cause you’ve got her. Again, so what? If Reggie ain’t feeling it, don’t worry.”

  Marcus grunted. “You’re missing my point. We can’t have him be jealous. That is what my dream indicated. That is where my concern lies. It’s not losing Reg’s heart, or Reg. It’s Michael’s heart. Seth, tell Pap what you told me about his video game playing.”

  “He sucked,” Seth said.

  Kyle chuckled. “It’s a video game. I suck at them too.”

  “No.” Seth shook his head. “He was getting good, then he realized my mom was with Marcus and he couldn’t even hold the controller.”

  Marcus added, “But he doesn’t know why.”

  “Again,” Kyle was stern. “Why are we concerned? It doesn’t affect us.”

  “Oh, really? Kyle, Michael can’t get jealous. He loses focus. He can’t concentrate. If Michael can’t concentrate… we’re all screwed.”

  Kyle ran his hand over his face.

  “What do we do, Kyle?” Marcus asked.

  “We leave Seth to pick some tomatoes, then you and I…” Kyle took a thinking breath. “We go talk to our angel.”

  Though Kyle often boasted about the size of his property, he was certain that locating Michael wasn’t going to be all that difficult. There were really only a few places he could be.

  The training device that Kyle had constructed looked like a wooden swing set, one long beam supported by two triangular beams on each side. Six ropes dangled from the top beam, holding small sandbags. Michael stood alone, sword in hand. He pivoted his body, swinging at the bags, turning the sword at the last minute so as not to slice them. His breath huffed; the speed of the blade created a high-pitched whiffing sound. Four times he struck a bag. And then he shook his head. On the fifth, he swung and missed. He grunted as the sword tangled in two of the ropes. He pulled it back, then, with an angry growl, slanted his body in a powerful swing, whistling the blade through the air, slicing all six bags. The air was filled with a cloud of sand. Stepping back, Michael tossed the sword into a spin. As it sank into the ground, he turned and froze.

  Kyle and Marcus stood there.

  “Well.” Hands in his pockets, Kyle rocked from heel to toe. “Judging from that swashbuckling demonstration, I’d say you’re either way out of practice, or you have somethi
ng heavy on your mind.”

  Michael breathed roughly. “Not heavy on the mind, Kyle. Heavy on this being. I don’t understand what I am feeling.”

  Marcus leaned to Kyle and whispered, “I told you so.”

  Kyle waved his hand at Marcus. “Go on, Michael.”

  Michael shifted his eyes to Marcus.

  “Michael?” Kyle questioned.

  Michael took a step toward the two men. “While I was…” He paused and looked around. “Where is Reggie?”

  Kyle shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe in the house. Finish what you were saying.”

  “I was explaining,” Michael said. “Reggie said she was seeking Marcus. I tried to build my skills but then I had visions of last night. Of Marcus and Reggie sharing affection. It tenses me. It makes me want to scream. Like this...” Michael bellowed: “Aauugh!”

  Marcus jumped. Kyle winced, and grinned.

  “Why?” Michael asked.

  Marcus tried to explain, “Michael, what you are feeling is very normal. Humans are very territorial by nature.”

  “But I am not human.”

  “No, see… you are,” Marcus said. “God gave you an earthly body, and maybe to throw you, he gave you emotions as well. Emotions are important… so that you fight hard for us.”

  “Emotions,” Michael whispered. “What emotion am I feeling when I want to scream like this… Aaugh!”

  Marcus cringed. “Um, jealousy.”

  “Jealousy.” Michael began to pace as he rattled. “I am confused. I try to draw parallels between what I feel and the educational movie I watched last night. I cannot. I understand men and women and the need to share affection. And I am told Reggie and I are to be as one. Yet she acts as if she is as one with you. That makes me want to scream like this...”

  “It’s okay,” Marcus said. “We’ve heard it.”

  Kyle spoke up. “Let me give it a whirl here. Michael, jealousy is age-old. There’s no rhyme or reason for it. It just happens. When you are close to someone, you get jealous when they are close to someone else.”

  “Yes.” Michael nodded. “But it consumes me. I cannot think, battle, train. What can be done?”

  Kyle took a deep breath. “You can remove the distraction.” He looked at Marcus.

  Marcus closed his eyes.

  “What do you mean?” Michael asked.

  Kyle explained, “If you didn’t have to think of Marcus and Reggie sharing affection, do you think it would stop you from wanting to scream like... like you screamed?”

  Michael smiled. “Yes, but I cannot ask that of Marcus.”

  Marcus slowly shook his head. “You don’t have to ask. How about if, while you train, I sort of back off? Meaning, until this battle is over, you will not have to think about me and Reggie sharing affection. Reggie and I will be friends, like her and Herbie. Would that work?”

  “Yes,” Michael nodded. “But I feel wrong. And what if Reggie wants to share affection with me? I would not want you to feel as if you must scream like…”

  “I won’t,” said Marcus.

  “Michael,” Kyle said. “Things work out. You can’t worry about that. You only worry about helping us save the world.”

  “And I will,” Michael said proudly. “With Reggie. We will be as one.”

  Marcus covered his face with his hand. “Oh, God.”

  “Why do you pray at this moment?” Michael asked.

  “Grateful,” Kyle spoke up. “He’s just so darned grateful.” He gave Marcus a swat on the back.

  “As am I,” Michael said. “And free. I feel free. I must find Reggie.” He began to step away, but stopped. “In my enthusiasm I nearly forgot. Marcus, you are the reason this burden has been lifted from me. Your sacrifice will not be unnoticed. You have been an absolute jerk.” He bowed slightly, then smiled and darted off.

  Marcus lowered his head, but raised his eyes when Kyle put an arm around his shoulder. “Go on,” Marcus said, “say something sarcastic.”

  “Nah. How about I just say thank you instead.”

  Marcus nodded slowly, gave a peaceful smile and walked on with Kyle.

  <><><><>

  “You did what?” Reggie yelled.

  “Reg, hold on.” Marcus lifted his hands.

  “You gave me up.”

  “No, no,” Marcus defended. “I put us on pause… physically. That’s it.”

  “Cut it out, Reg,” Kyle interrupted. “I started it. I suggested it. It had to be done. Deal with it.” He shouldered a shotgun to prepare for his watch.

  Herbie, who was indulging in a bowl of greens, paused in his consuming. “May I say something?” He wiped his mouth and stood up. “Reg, I think Marcus did the right thing by giving you up.”

  Marcus corrected, “I didn’t give her up. I loaned her out.”

  Reggie gasped. “Oh, so now you’re pimping me.”

  “Hold it,” Herbie said. “Why am I the only one not seeing this as a boyfriend-girlfriend thing? Because it’s not, you know. Michael doesn’t know what that is. He only knows what he feels.”

  “Herbie’s right,” Kyle said. “It ain’t about relationships, about love, or Marcus pimping you out. Michael was told you are his. That’s what he knows. It distracts him to think you are his and Marcus’, so until this thing is over, you are just his. Not…” Kyle raised his tone to silence Reggie before she argued. “Not to be his girlfriend. It’s just so you aren’t Marcus’ girlfriend. It takes away from his concentration. We can’t have that. Think about this. You spend all your time with Michael anyhow. He makes you sleep in the same room. All you’re giving up is a few hugs and kisses and occasional sex with Marcus. And really, it’s Marcus, so you aren’t out all that much.” He headed out the door.

  Reggie snickered. “My Dad’s funny. I better go back to training.” She moved to the door. “With Michael, my new boyfriend. Thank you, Marcus, you are a jerk.”

  Marcus stopped shaking his head only when he saw the boasting smile on Herbie’s round face. “What? What?”

  “Nothing. Just so you know.” He laid a hand on Marcus’ shoulder. “I would have given her up, too.”

  “And just so you know. That doesn’t make me feel any better.” Marcus turned and walked out.

  Herbie mumbled, “I wasn’t trying to make you feel better.” Then he shrugged, and finished his greens.

  St. Louis, MO

  Leonard wiped the sweat from the back of his neck and laid a book in front of Devante. “World War II,” he said.

  “What about it?” Devante asked.

  “I’m gonna use bits and pieces of it as my analogy.”

  “You need not waste your time.”

  “It’s not a waste of my time. I think I need to. May I sit?”

  Devante motioned to a chair.

  Leonard pulled it forward and sat down. “There are reasons men in power have right-hand men. They trust their right-hand men. Without you getting angry, I’d like to exercise that trust you put in me.”

  “Go on.”

  Leonard let out a slow breath. “Strategy, Devante. By your own words, you thought only to the point of your being in power.”

  “That is not true,” Devante said. “I think of the great battle all the time.”

  “Yes, but there’s that space in-between.” Leonard opened the book. “Every great battle has a strategy. In a small-scale comparison, I give you World War Two. Take Hitler, for example…”

  “I did.”

  There was a nervous pause before Leonard continued. “Okay.” He cleared his throat. “Hitler had a strategy. In fact, he covered a lot of bases. He did very well. Then we had Hirohito…”

  “I know him well.”

  Leonard chuckled. “Hirohito had a brilliant strategy. But he didn’t quite think ahead, nor did he plan on the power of a big enemy. The United States. Using these players, let’s say Hitler and Hirohito represent us. Roosevelt represents the army of light.”

  Devante shook his head.

  “No? W
hy?”

  “Roosevelt.” Devante smiled. “I know him, also.”

  “Forget it.” Leonard shut the history book. “You aren’t getting what I am saying.”

  “No, I do. You insinuate that our enemy is more powerful than we.”

  “No.” Leonard shook his head. “I’m merely trying to say, what is it going to hurt if you construct a strategy?”

  “Am I not doing so by sending Lillian to Seville?”

  “You are,” Leonard said. “But that is only one aspect. Cover it all. You plan on building and preparing forces for the great battle. But so does the other side. From what I’m gathering, both sides are treating this like a big football game. You will all meet in one place, at one time, to partake in a soul-swapping super bowl.”

  “Yes. That is the way it will happen.”

  “Why?” Leonard asked. “You have this span of time when they are getting ready. Why not take advantage of that? Not only send in Lillian, but find other ways to weaken them. Beat them before the war starts. You worry about this holy team. Angel or not, you’re talking about a man and a woman. Break them up. There are ways. Like any big game, there are bound to be practice games, smaller battles before the big one, correct?”

  “Yes,” Devante answered.

  “You don’t mention them.”

  “The great battle is my concern.”

  Leonard lifted a finger. “Don’t underestimate the power you can gain from little battles.”

  Devante stood slowly, rubbing his goatee. “Weaken them.” He paced across the room. “Leonard, leave me to my thoughts.”

  Leonard nodded, picked up his book and started to go.

  “One more thing,” Devante called out. “Our prison camps are filled with nonbelievers who would be viable soldiers for the army of light. I want the camps destroyed.”

  “Without phone and radio communications it could be a slow process; we’ll get it done. Starting tonight.” That said, Leonard left the room.

  Seville, Ohio