Chronicles of Stephen BoxSet Read online

  “Yes, you did that often.” Waltz smiled. Stephen felt some relief knowing this was his memory.

  “Well, it wasn’t fun having an ability, not at first. Eventually, I got used to it and began understanding it, how it worked. I went to see the first Batman movie, not long after it came out—”

  Waltz interrupted. “I assure you, boy, it was not the first Batman movie.” Then he chuckled.

  Stephen grinned as he rolled his eyes. This was a strange moment to lighten the mood. But it had done the trick. He felt a little more at ease. “Anyways,” Stephen continued. “The movie gave me the idea to do some good.”

  “And?” Waltz asked.

  “Well, I did good. I was able to stop some bad people from doing bad things.”

  “Really? How did it feel?” There was an exuberance in Waltz’s voice.

  “It was great. Some things were harder, trickier than others. I can give you stories and details later, but man, what a rush!”

  “A rush? Like what kind of rush?”

  “I don’t know, like adrenaline. At first it was just nice to do good. Eventually, it was thrilling. Finally, it’s like I was the ability, like we, me and the ability, were one and the same. My life seemed tied to it and revolved around it.”

  Stephen stopped. “That is, until something went wrong.” He turned and looked at Waltz. “A kid died. He was only sixteen. He was into some bad stuff and would likely have died. But he was a good kid deep down. I can see that stuff, Waltz. I can see a person’s deepest, darkest secrets, desires, you name it. Nothing is hidden from me. I can see the good and bad in a person. This kid wanted to be good. Instead, he died because of me. I watched him die from the inside. I was inside his head when he died and could feel it all.”

  Stephen grabbed Waltz by the shoulders and looked him square in the eyes. He felt guilt and concern inside Waltz. “I know what death feels like. It’s the most horrible thing I’ve ever felt, and the most powerful. There is no hope, no compassion, no strength. Nothing.” He let go of Waltz and continued walking as Waltz followed.

  “There is always hope, my boy.”

  “Ah, you’re talking about that Jesus stuff, right?”

  “Jesus stuff?”

  “I’m sorry, Waltz. I don’t mean to be disrespectful. After all the stuff I’ve seen, I just don’t know if I believe anymore. Heck! I may never have believed. I know I was eighteen when I left, but I was still a kid. If it wasn’t for all I’ve seen, both through my eyes and others, I’d still be kid. But there’s a real darkness out there.”

  “Yes, there is.” Waltz smacked his lips. “All that darkness just means the smallest light can shine that much brighter.”

  Stephen searched Waltz’s thoughts. He had expected Waltz’s reaction to be stronger and negative. The emotions continued to be on the surface for Stephen to soak up. The thoughts, however, seemed hazy and distant. Then, they were gone. He had lost Waltz’s thoughts altogether. His emotions seemed to be making his gift harder to control.

  They continued on with small talk until they finally reached Bernie’s place. Waltz walked up the steps and turned back toward Stephen when he reached the top. “You coming?”

  “Yeah, I’m coming Waltz. I . . .” Stephen paused on the bottom step, looking around. There were so many emotions. He stopped to feel Waltz’s emotions again. They were stronger than his own. Stephen’s emotions were mixed, confused. Waltz’s were certain, elation. “I never thought I’d see this place again,” Stephen said. “You don’t think he’ll mind, do you?”

  “No, he keeps my room for me. Not yours though.” Waltz winked. “You’ll have to sleep on the couch. No doubt all the other rooms are full up with homeless, as usual.”

  Waltz turned to knock on the door. He knocked again, and the door opened as the porch light came on. On the other side of the threshold stood a tall, broad, elderly, bald black man, looking not so happy to find someone on his porch in the middle of the night.

  “Waltz? What are . . . is everything okay?” Bernie asked.

  Waltz reached forward, took Bernie by the arm, and pulled him onto the porch.

  “Perfect! Everything is perfectly okay!”

  Bernie stood staring down at Stephen, who was now making his way up the steps.

  “Hey, Bernie.”

  Bernie looked hard at Stephen. His face appeared angry. “That’s Uncle Bernie. And where have you been, Mr. Stephen Cross? Don’t you know how much you worried two old men?” He pointed to Waltz. “And this poor fool been sleepin’ in dat alley since you left!”

  Stephen stepped up to Bernie, whose figure towered over Stephen’s five-foot-ten-inch height. “So, that means you care, since you were worried, right?” Stephen grinned. Bernie didn’t.

  “Boy, don’t get me wrong. I’m glad you’re alright. And I’m gonna give you a hug. But you’ve got a lot of explaining to do. A lot of mending to do. You understand?”

  “Yes, sir.” Stephen looked at Waltz, who grinned and shrugged.

  Bernie hugged Stephen even tighter than Waltz had. Then, he went inside, leaving the door open for the two to follow. Stephen entered last and locked the door behind himself.

  ****

  The next morning, Stephen awoke on the couch. It was a nice change, being someplace familiar, being home. What Stephen hadn’t mentioned to Waltz yet was that he had been homeless over the past year or so. He had wandered around, caught up in trying to deal justice, but never stayed in the same place long. He moved from hotel to hotel when he could, but often stayed on the street. While on the street, he grew paranoid, feeling as though someone was watching him, not completely sure if someone really was or if the lingering memories of others were causing delusions.

  When Stephen finally tore himself from the couch’s comfort, he scuffed around the room, stretching as he went and looking at old pictures. He saw the snow-covered yard and sidewalks through the window. Nothing else seemed to stir. He walked over to the fireplace. On the mantel hung four stockings, two with the names Bernie and Bernard on the left and two more for Waltz and Stephen hanging to the right. Sparse decorations gave a quaint feel to the room—a garland on the staircase in the hall and a modest tabletop tree on the coffee table in front of the couch.

  He ran his hand across the top of the mantel as he walked along, looking around the room. Nearly knocking a framed photo off the mantel, he picked it up, noticing it was an old picture of himself with Bernard, Bernie’s nephew.

  “That was taken about a year after you moved in with us here.”

  Stephen looked across the room to see Bernie standing in the doorway to the kitchen and dining area. “Yeah, I remember.” He took a closer look. “Did he end up going to that college down south? What was it? The one with two mascots?”

  “Auburn.”

  “Yeah, that’s the one. Auburn. Did he go?” Stephen stood the frame back up and turned toward Bernie.

  “Yep. He graduates from veterinary school this spring.”

  “Man, that’s awesome! Good for him.”

  “Yeah, his momma and I are real proud of him. You should go see Wanda. She’ll be excited to know you’re safe. They both will.”

  “Sure thing. I plan to. I’d like to get settled some first.”

  “So, you’re staying with us a while?” Bernie raised his eyebrows in question.

  Stephen thought for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck. When he realized what he was doing, he stopped. “Yeah, I plan to. I hope to. Truth is, I don’t know. Waltz and I have some stuff to talk about. But I really want to.”

  “Well, if you want to, I don’t know of anything or anybody that would stand in your way.” Bernie turned and went into the kitchen, where he started banging pots and pans. Stephen had always thought Bernie’s Southern accent had been funny. Now it seemed only slightly out of place.

  “Hey, what do you say we finish that conversation we started last night?” Waltz’s voice came from behind Stephen.

  Stephen turned to see Walt
z walking down the hallway, alongside the staircase. His hair dripped from the shower he had just taken. His clothes looked nice, freshly pressed, but nothing new or fancy. “Most of the house isn’t up yet. We can go downstairs and shoot some pool while Bernie starts on breakfast,” Waltz suggested.

  “Sure. That’d be good.” Stephen had missed the old house. He felt the shelter was more like a small apartment building because of the size of it. It could have easily been a bed-and-breakfast. Bernie and Waltz had been the only full-time staff at the shelter for the homeless ever since Stephen had lived there. The downstairs floor had only a few bedrooms, two of which Bernie and Waltz stayed in. The rest were on the top two floors. There was a recreation area in the basement. He considered himself fortunate to grow up there, even though they frequently had homeless guests.

  Stephen looked around the basement. “Wow, nothing’s changed.”

  “Feel like home?”

  “Yeah, I guess. But look at this place.” Stephen pointed to the outdated lighting and furniture. “Some things really should change!”

  They both laughed as Stephen walked around the table to start racking the balls. “And air freshener wouldn’t hurt. It smells mildewy.”

  Waltz took a sniff and shrugged. “You’re probably right.”

  “So, what do you want to know? I’ll be an open book. I owe you that. You’ve been a dad to me. I should have at least written you or something.”

  “Why didn’t you?” Waltz asked.

  Stephen felt hurt and mixed emotions radiating from Waltz. “At first, I was scared and didn’t know what to write. After a while, it was embarrassment that kept me from writing, which eventually turned to shame.”

  “I understand, I guess.” Waltz grabbed a stick and began to break. The crack of the balls echoed off the stone walls.

  “Really?” Stephen looked for a good shot.

  “Yeah, I ran once. I was in a situation not dissimilar to yours. Now, I wasn’t having the type of issues you were having. But there was this woman. I had stayed a bachelor for so long.”

  “Wait. A woman?” Stephen gave his best sly grin.

  “Yes, a woman. Now shut up and let me finish.” Waltz grinned back before continuing. “I was forty years old when I met her. It was my birthday party, actually. Bernie introduced us. I had dated a lot. But I didn’t really have time for a woman in my life. Not a serious relationship anyways. When I was younger I was a ladies’ man, not the gentleman I should’ve been.”

  Waltz looked across the table, then sank the five ball in the corner where Stephen stood. “She was so gorgeous. I had pretty much given up dating. I didn’t consider it wise to start a family at the age of forty. But I had to say something to her. One thing led to another. A while later, she was talking about marriage and kids. For the longest, I just played it off. I really loved her.” Waltz sighed.

  Stephen heard the hurt in his voice. “What happened, Waltz?”

  “I ran. Dummy me left a note. I had money back then. I could have given her anything. All she wanted was me. But I was a little paranoid then, didn’t really trust anyone. I thought she might have wanted money. I couldn’t see it—the love. Well, it wasn’t long after that I realized my mistake. I wanted to go see her but kept finding excuses not to.” Waltz paused and stared at the table.

  “And . . . ?” Stephen was impatient to hear the rest. He had never heard this story before.

  “I eventually saw her in the park, just outside City Museum. She had moved on. I could see she was pregnant. And, there was another man. So I left without saying anything. But I vowed to never let my love of wealth get in the way of my life and God’s plans for me again.”

  “So, what did you do?” Stephen had never given much consideration to Waltz having a life before they found each other.

  “I gave it up.”

  “What? You gave the money up?”

  “Yeah, I did. It took me a few years to really decide what to do with it. I kept a small amount, to take care of my needs and help me get settled into a new life.”

  “What about the woman?” Stephen asked.

  “Whew, boy.” Waltz looked at Stephen. “There was another man in her life. Years later, I learned that he hadn’t stayed long. But it was too late for me to make amends. She’d passed away earlier that year.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Waltz.” Stephen sensed something from Waltz, another emotion. “You still love her,” he said excitedly.

  “I never stopped.”

  Stephen paused for a moment, thinking about the story. “Wait a second. If you have money, why do you work here?”

  “Work?” Waltz laughed. “I volunteer. I’ve always volunteered. I haven’t had a paying job in a very long time. But the point is, I know a little about running. I get it. It’s okay.”

  “Well then. I told you last night why I left. What more do you want to know?”

  Waltz was on quite a run, having sunken three balls, not giving Stephen a shot yet. “Tell me about the boy that died. How did it happen?”

  Stephen began to protest. “Waltz, I don’t really want—”

  Waltz held up a hand. “Stephen, you said you’d be completely honest with me. If you want my help, I need to know everything.”

  “Waltz, you don’t understand. This thing I can do, it developed and changed. I’m not sure it’s good. It seems alright, until I think about explaining. I’ll sound like some kind of monster. I am a monster.” Stephen knew he sounded frantic, and worked to slow his breathing.

  “Boy, I assure you. You are no monster. But I need to know what happened. I want the whole story this time.”

  Stephen sat on a stool. “There was this lawyer named Biggs. He defended all the wrong kinds of people. I had learned about him through others’ thoughts. He was a bad guy, in the pocket of some worse guys. I wanted to take him down. He was into prostitutes, drugs, and all sorts of stuff. I needed a way to get close to him. So I possessed the kid’s body, Tommy.”

  “You what?” Waltz missed his shot. “Is that really possible, to actually possess another person?”

  Stephen got up and walked around the table as Waltz stood, staring at him. “Yeah, it’s possible. It takes a lot of energy. It’s not fun. I can feel the person’s mind, but it’s as if it’s locked away. When they are freed, for them, it’s like time is missing. It’s hard for me to do, but sometimes necessary. If I have to implant thoughts into a mind, it can cause temporary mental issues, sometimes permanent ones. Anyways, Tommy was a runner for Biggs. He did small errands—delivering messages, picking up this or that. This kid could’ve had a chance to be better. I didn’t want the mental issues for him. So, I possessed him, ensuring he would not remember anything.”

  “Okay, I guess. Go on.”

  Stephen leaned over the table, striking the cue ball, which sped across the table and sent the nine ball into the side pocket and the ten ball into the corner pocket.

  “Nice shot!” Waltz scratched his head.

  “Thanks.” Stephen began looking around the table at the remaining balls. “I went to the apartment building where one of his women lived, on a night I was certain he’d be there. Tommy had scheduled the appointment. Sure enough, Biggs’s black Mercedes was parked out front. The people in that area of Chattanooga knew who he was. No one messed with him. I saw the woman look out her window as she drew the curtain closed. Afterward, I scaled the side of the building, using ledges and protruding bricks. She was on the third floor, which isn’t really that far. I made it to her balcony and peered through a small crack in the curtains. I could see him sitting on the couch in his underwear, drugs scattered all over the table. She was standing with her back to me, feeding him pills.” Stephen wiped sweat from his forehead as he took another shot.

  “I took pictures. There was enough there to make sure he went down. I emailed them from Tommy’s phone to a couple of news stations and the police. I had done it. There would be questions. At the very least, he would be finished as a law
yer.”

  “What went wrong?” Waltz sounded more sad than curious.

  “Before I got to the ground, someone had seen me—rather, Tommy—climbing down the building and started yelling. Biggs came out and saw me. When I got to the bottom, I ran.” Stephen shot again, sinking the fifteen. “I had made plans for Tommy to get away. I was going to leave him with a desire to flee and never come back.”

  “But it didn’t work, did it?”

  Stephen hadn’t seen Waltz’s face that serious in years. In fact, he wasn’t sure he had ever seen Waltz look so angry, with jaws clenched.

  “No, sir.” Stephen hated to tell the next part. As he shot, his trembling hand sent the cue ball wide, just grazing the intended fourteen ball, and into the pocket. “When I turned and ran, I heard shots. The first shot missed. The second didn’t.”

  Stephen collapsed, so weak that he fell.

  “Are you okay? Stephen! What’s wrong, boy?”

  “I remember it all. Remember?” Stephen struggled to catch his breath. His heart raced, and he broke into a sweat. “I told you, I’d feel what he felt. Each time I access those memories, I access the feelings too. The greater the detail, the stronger the feelings. And, they can be overwhelming.”

  Stephen slowed his breathing and struggled to get back to his feet. “Each time, I relive death, the fear of it, the pain and hopelessness, all of it. The body knows it isn’t real. But the mind makes it seem real.”

  “And this is why you came back? Is this what you’re needing help with?” Waltz helped Stephen to his feet.

  “Only a small part, Waltz. It’s so much more. I could turn it off. The pain, emotion, all of it. I used to do that from time to time. It helped me get done what needed to be done. I was doing a lot of good. But, with time, I started getting this feeling that something was wrong, seriously wrong. I’m not alone in this, Waltz. Someone or something has been following me, watching me, and it’s trying to get to me. When I turn off the emotions, I feel it even more. It’s like I’m drawn to it.”