Page 23 of Resurrect Me

I pull my knees to my chest as the tears rush out of my eyes. They roll down my neck and sting the open wound there. “I don’t understand. Why are you doing this?”

The devil just gawks at me and shakes his head. Then discovers a small white board on the fridge beside him and writes, “Trust me. You’re safe. I’m going to take care of you.”

He motions for me to get up and follow him. I don’t know what to do, but I’d rather not stay here in this house with my ex whose brains were just turned into spray paint. I slowly stand and take a deep breath. Looking down at myself, I’m covered in dirt, debris, chunks of brain matter, and blood.

I turn and say, “please untie me. I promise I’ll follow you and I won’t run.”

The masked devil cuts the zip tie with a blade from his belt, and I exhale as my plastic bonds fall to the floor. He grabs my hand and leads me through the back door and out into the yard. I pull my hand loose but follow.

The night air is cool, and there is a sky full of stars. They’re not this bright where I live in the city. With this little light pollution, I bet we’re in Greensboro about forty minutes north. A small suburb that’s rural with corn farms and breweries on everycorner. I could really go for a beer right now. Maybe even an entire bottle of jack. My whole body hurts. I rub the bruises on my wrists where the zip tie was. Then run a hand over the knots on my scalp.

Why won’t this guy say anything? Is he deaf? Should I even trust him? I debate on running from him but change my mind.

There’s a truck idling in the distance, next to a wooded area. At the edge of the property. I look back just once and see a nineteen-seventies rambler behind me. All the lights are still on, but only a dead man is home.

We cross the yard and close in on the Ford F150, and I’m wondering why he still hasn’t said a word to me. I reach for the handle to the back seat when he jumps to open it for me. Like a…gentleman?

I climb into the back seat and lay down, in the fetal position, shivering and sobbing. I release my tears and sobs just as the truck’s wheels roll out the long gravel driveway. The devil who saved my life stays quiet but turns up the heat and points the vents at me. The coldness that had invaded my bones dissipates, along with most of my fear. I decide to try to talk to him again.

“Where are you taking me?”

He points to a sign as we hit the highway. It says, “For Ranchera, Take H91 South”. He’s taking me home.

“Oh my God, thank you. Thank you so much.”

Now the tears are falling out of relief. I fucking survived a kidnapping and I’m going home. I’ll get to see my kids again. And, if it wasn’t for my masked hero, I wouldn’t be alive right now. And my kids would be orphaned.

I stare at his gnarled, scarlet face in the rearview. The bright red bumpy plastic, the black lined triangular eyes, and the double horns remind me of Tim Curry’s devil character in that old nineteen-eighties movie called Legend. For some reason, the devil in that movie turned me on. This one was starting to grab my attention too. I sit up and buckle my seat belt. I look down and notice the wound on my neck has bled onto my shirt.

He throws me a clean white rag, and I take it and press it against the wound.

“Thank you,” I mumble. “Are you my stalker?”

His eyes meet mine in the mirror for a second or two, and he nods.

Chapter 14

Aris

It totally escaped my mind that Tacy would want to talk to me. I obviously can’t speak to her. She’ll know who I am with just one word. I’ll have to remedy that with a voice changing device of some kind. For now, I’m getting her home safely and staking out the place until I know The Org isn’t watching her. But for how long? Will they just keep sending people to abduct her? Will they forget about the whole thing, or will they have someone try to kill her? She’s onto them…and they know it. They got word that she’s been looking into Duselizab. One of the poisons The Org is using to sterilize and kill young people. To put an end to procreation before it’s even begun. I knew my Tacy was smart, but I didn’t know she was a fucking genius. All it took was a simple browser history search on the computer. I’m able to tap into our devices at home with ease. I simply use the technology we have at the warehouse to monitor her research and online activity.

I pull into the neighborhood and inch up to a stop sign two blocks from the house. Then peer around the corner. There are no lights on at the house and no cars in the driveway. Which means, Tacy’s mother has our kids with her at her condominium downtown. What’s alarming is there are no cops. No crime scene. No tape. Has anyone even come by the house to check on things? I want to scratch my head but can’t. Still got the stupid fucking mask on. And I can’t take it off until Tacy’s far away from me. Even if she sees my hair or head, she’ll know it’s me.

“Power’s back on,” my beautiful girl mumbles from the back seat. “Streetlamps are on and looks like my neighbors Christmas lights are on. In September. Rednecks.”

I almost laugh but swallow to stifle it. She always hated those neighbors. They’re the kind that let their big dogs shit in your yard and don’t clean it up. And when they do clean it up, they throw it unbagged into your trash can. Real classy folks.

The door groans as it opens, and she slides out the back seat, still clutching the rag to the wound on her neck. “This is close enough,” she says. “I’ll be fine from here.”

I bite my tongue and wish I could say something to her. Tell her who I am. That I am still in love with her. That I’m not dead and never truly left her. I wish I could hold her to my chest and feel her skin against mine. Instead, I stare straight ahead and grip the steering wheel. I reach for the radio volume and turn it up. The song Broken Belief by Bob Moses blares through the speakers.

“Well, whenever you feel like revealing your actual identity, I’m here for it,” she says and pushes a bloody strand of hair out of her face.

I roll down my window as she passes by. She glances my way, and I point at the puncture wound on her neck. As if to say, are you going to be okay?

“Oh, this?” she says and forces a grin. “I’m a nurse, buddy. I can patch this one up myself, no problem.”

I nod. Then point downwards as if to say, I’m staying right here for the night.

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