Sad_Girl
Blue Crack Supplier
Morleigh had insisted he lie down for awhile and try to rest the moment she’d seen him in his disheveled state. He had started to argue but realized it would be pointless, and besides, he was exhausted. Maybe he’d be able to figure this out better after a nap. He’d barely pulled the covers over his head before he was out, but if he had truly expected a restful sleep he’d been sorely mistaken.
He found himself wandering in a dusty field; it was indistinguishable as any particular place. It could be Russia or Ireland or America or just about anywhere else on the planet. The wind blew fiercely, kicking up dust and debris around him, his eyes stinging, sand biting into any exposed flesh. It was twilight; the point between day and night at which the world seemed so surreal you’d swear anything was possible.
Twilight carried it an enchantment but it was also the harbinger of night, and of darkness. He walked, simply because there was nothing else to do. The field was wide open and seemed to stretch on forever, the horizon a distant blur. His steps faltered as something broke the line of the horizon, a shape, small at first but growing as it moved toward him. He recognized her immediately, those eyes shining in the dusk.
He opened his mouth to try and talk to her, but no words would form. She reached out to him, and he somehow willed his legs to move toward her. She was trying to tell him something, her lips moving, but of course he couldn’t hear her. He picked up his pace, at a jog now but she was still at a distance.
Suddenly his feet caught on something on the ground and he was tumbling, falling hard. As he hit the ground he found himself face to face with the same woman, only she stared blankly toward the sky, her eyes unseeing. Her pale skin was so cold to the touch it hurt his hand when he reached out to her.
He caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to see the woman, the living version of this corpse, standing directly behind him. She stared down at him with those intense eyes and he hadn’t even had time to register her presence before she leaned in, inches from his face and screamed. This time, he heard her clearly.
“Aaaadaaaaam!” She had wailed, and as she did Edge had bolted upright in bed with a gasp. He rubbed the back of his neck, an old habit when he was frustrated or deep in thought, and waited for his heart to slow to the point he could stand without trembling. He slid on his jeans without bothering to zip them or find a shirt and hurried to the phone. “Adam?”
“Yeah.”
“We need to talk.”
******************************************
“All I said was, I don’t think it’s a good idea.” Adam grumbled; his blue eyes hooded with disgust as he looked in the rear-view mirror at Edge.
“If you have a better suggestion, then please, share it with us. Otherwise…” He stopped short, knowing harsh words weren’t going to get them anywhere. His friend was tired, shaken up and concerned. He had the right to be, after all, he’d had it worse than any of the rest of them.
“You’re sure they’ll keep this confidential?” He asked, worried more about the band’s image if this strange news were to circulate. Consulting a group of people who called themselves experts in the paranormal was a strange thing to do, in his mind, and he knew plenty of other people would think so as well. Not that they had made their careers on worrying about what people thought, but this seemed different somehow. It wasn’t like it was something they believed deeply in and therefore wanted to be associated with.
“They signed the confidentiality agreement, faxed it back this afternoon.” Edge informed him as Larry brought the car to a stop in front of the less than impressive building and all four men stared at it with a sinking feeling in their guts. After four days of trying to get to the bottom of the situation themselves and two weeks of flawed recording attempts, they had reached the ends of their ropes. So here they were in the desert outside of Las Vegas, meeting a representative from a group of people who claimed to research the paranormal. The building itself looked more like an auto body shop than a professional building; or at least certainly not somewhere scientific experiments were likely to be conducted.
“They’re probably a bunch of con artists, cheating people out of their money and when they see us their greedy little palms are gonna start to sweat. They have the chance to sell a story to the trash papers at the very least.” Larry remarked as he stretched his long arms and broad shoulders as best he could in the drivers seat.
“They have a good reputation, I didn’t just pick the first group of whack-o’s I found on the internet.” Edge reassured his friends.
“Might as well get this over with and see what’s what, eh?” Bono remarked, the first to climb out of the rented car and make his way up the dusty path. “Hello?” He called out upon stepping into an empty lobby. A voice came from behind a door across the room in reply.
“Hello, be out in a minute!” The men looked around the cluttered room, noting recording equipment for both video and audio as well as other gadgets they didn’t recognize and stacks of grainy photographs piled on the desk, spilling over onto the floor. The photos themselves weren’t remarkable, just smears of light in the darkness mostly.
“Hi. Mr. Evans?” The woman greeted them, her attention directed toward Edge as she entered the room. A pair of unplugged earphones dangled from around her neck, her glasses sitting on top of her head and pushing her red hair back out of her face. She smiled politely and shook Edges hand when he nodded in greeting. “I’m Erica Laughlin, it’s good to meet you.” She told him, turning to search through the mess on the desk for an envelope which contained the information he’d sent her. He briefly introduced the others by first name and she acknowledged with a muffled greeting, holding her pencil between her teeth as she used both hands to lift a box off the file in question. “This is very interesting.” She told them as she withdrew the papers from the envelope and reviewed the case. “Do you have a copy of the EVP?”
“Yeah, we brought it. Here.” Edge informed her, handing over the recording. They had all been unwilling to have it floating around in the public. It wouldn’t have been the first time incomplete or imperfect recordings from the studio had been stolen from them. Her attention was on the CD as she spun and retreated through the door from which she had come, gesturing for the guys to follow.
“Has this been altered?” She asked as she listened to it the first time, typing commands on the keyboard furiously.
“Yeah, I…” Edge started but was interrupted.
“I need an original.” She informed him, frowning deeply at the man. Adam rolled his eyes, convinced more than ever that she was after the recording for her own profit.
“Why?”
“Because you took too much out of it. It’s almost certainly an example of EVP, but I can’t tell what she’s saying. You see, they don’t create the noise, they manipulate what is already there. I’ve never heard of it happening within such a wide spectrum of sound, it’s usually just white noise; monotonous sound.” She told them.
“Must’ve been in the bass part, then.” Larry quipped and even Adam had to chuckle at the unexpected but welcome moment of humor.
“I need to hear how the whole spectrum was altered.” She explained, and Edge grudgingly produced the unedited copy he’d hoped he wouldn’t have to give up. They listened as she isolated the interference, and for the first time they heard the message clearly. It sent shivers shooting through each of them it was so clear, now.
“Sam’s not dead.” Erica repeated.
“Not Sam.” Adam told her grimly. “Adam.” He said, and they looked at him, not comprehending his words at first. “She’s saying Adam’s not dead.”
“That’s pretty obvious, you’re standing right here.”
“Is it a warning of some sort?” Bono asked.
“You’re reading too much into it. It’s not as easy as that; there could be a million reason’s you’d be getting this residual psychic energy. Not the least of which is that you’re so well known. I guess you’re just too popular for your own good, fellas. You’ve got a stalker from beyond the grave.” She told them dryly, acknowledging that she recognized them for the first time. Then she turned back to the computer, withdrew the disc and handed it back to Edge. “I understand there’s been a name, too?” She asked.
“Natalie.” He informed her and she turned to her notebook.
“Young woman, average height and weight. Her accent was North American.” She said, more to herself than them. “And the concern expressed is for ‘Adam’ Maybe you or maybe someone else altogether named Adam. None of you have recognized her?” She checked to see she was correct. She sighed and closed her notebook, rising and leading them back out to the lobby. “Ok, well, I’ll let you know if we can do anything further to help.”
“That’s it?” Bono demanded as she started to walk back into the lobby. She glanced back over her shoulder and replied coolly,
“I didn’t ask you to fly out here. You could have sent me the CD. You didn’t want to do that, and I can’t tell you what I don’t know.” She explained with a shrug which was beyond irritating. Their lives were being completely side tracked and all she could do was shrug and tell them little more than they already knew.
***************************************************
Adam sat on the corner of the hotel bed staring off into space, his head aching. Adam. He’d heard his own name clearly. It made sense didn’t it? Edge swore it had been Adam’s name she screamed at him in his dream. Plus Adam was the one who’d started having the dreams, but he’d ignored them.
Now all of their lives were disrupted, and it felt a lot like a nightmare he just couldn’t wake up from. He saw her every time he closed his eyes, every time he slept. She was getting angry, frustrated that he wasn’t helping her. He lay down and turned out the light, trying to remember everything from the dreams, every little detail. There had to be something, some reason for all of this.
Suddenly the TV flicked on, lights flashing and filling the darkened room, the volume all the way up. The sound of a woman screaming, wailing for help, poured out of the speakers and made Adam jump out of bed instinctively, his heart racing and adrenaline pumping through his body in a rush of fear and surprise.
“Fuck!” He muttered, grabbing the remote and turning the TV off quickly, standing back away from it as if afraid it would bite. Soon the others were pounding on his door, having heard the screaming from their own hotel rooms. He turned on the light and let them in, yanking the plug on the TV out of the wall. Almost immediately the TV screen came to life again, and the first thing the men saw upon entering was Adam holding the cord while the TV blared loudly.
“Holy shit.” Edge mumbled as Adam dropped the cord and backed away from the TV. The men were dumbfounded for a moment as the TV began to turn itself on and then off again. Adam slid into his pants and shirt, carrying his shoes and putting them on as he walked out the door and down the hall.
“Where are going?” Bono asked, and Adam called back over his shoulder at his friend but did not stop or even slow his pace.
“I need a fucking drink.” He informed him, and they knew he meant it.
“Hey, you don’t…” Edge started, hurrying to catch up to him, but Adam spun and pointed a finger at his friend.
“Don’t tell me I don’t need a drink, because believe me when I say…” He was telling Edge in a cool tone when his voice drifted off, his eyes landing on something behind Edge. Any color he’d had in his cheeks drained and Edge turned to look. Even in the black and white picture, he recognized those eyes.
“Good God.” He muttered as the men gathered around the newspaper stand. The headline announced boldly ‘Missing woman found dead’. Adam quickly withdrew the change from his pocket and slid it into the machine, each man grabbing a copy and reading the story which followed.
~ The search for Natalie Evers has ended in tragedy as police discover her body in an abandoned vehicle on Monday afternoon. The body of her estranged husband was also in the car, in an apparent murder-suicide. The woman had been filed for divorce and co-workers were concerned when she disappeared nearly two weeks ago. Natalie had no family but the couple had one child, a son named Adam, who is still missing. ‘Considering the discovery of the bodies today, I have to say that any hope of finding the boy is diminished.’ Police chief Ernie Timbers is quoted as saying. ‘But we will continue to search, of course, and if anyone has any potential information, please contact the Sheriff’s department or the Nevada State police.’ Adam is four years old, with blonde hair and brown eyes and was last seen wearing a red T-shirt and blue jeans. He has a recent scar on his chin from a bicycle accident which required stitches. ~
“Adam’s not dead.” Bono repeated, the men’s eyes meeting as the message became clear to them finally. “So now what do we do?”
“I don’t know.” Edge admitted in defeat. They couldn’t exactly go to the police with what they knew, it was all dreams and static. No one would believe them; hell if the tables were turned they doubted they’d believe the story themselves.
“I need some air.” Adam informed them, continuing to the elevator with the newspaper tucked under his arm. The men followed him to the car, but when he reached for the door Bono caught his hand.
“You’re too shook up to drive, let me.” He said. Larry snorted with unexpected laughter at the suggestion, and Adam shook his head.
“Not a chance, I don’t want the next message to be that THIS Adam IS dead.” The men climbed in, unwilling to let their mate be alone right then and frankly, not wanting to be alone themselves.
“Where are you going?” Edge asked When Adam steered the car out of the city and into the North where the city suddenly ended into a vast nothingness.
“I don’t know…” He muttered, frowning as he looked out the window into the darkness. Suddenly, he slammed on the brakes, all four of the men lunging forward with the suddenness of the stop.
“I know this place.” He told them, sliding the car into reverse and taking a long two-track driveway off the road. “I know this place.” he repeated as if trying to convince himself. An ancient travel trailer appeared as the crested a slight hill. “I dreamt about this.” He informed them, parking the car and hurrying out the door toward the trailer.
“What’s he doing?”
“He’s gonna get his bloody head blown off, barge in on somebody!”
They tried to catch him, but he was a man on a mission now, and there was no stopping him. What they saw when they stepped into the tiny RV made them all catch their breath.
A small boy lay sleeping on the bench seat, his clothes and hair and face all filthy. Their were empty water bottles, fruit cans and junk food wrappers strewn about everywhere, as well as a handful of cheap toys and dirty laundry.
The boy had been here for two weeks, alone, caring for himself as best a four year old possibly could. Hearing the noise of the men enter, the boy stirred, rubbing tired eyes with the backs of his hands. He blinked up at them and yawned, and all four men felt a giddy relief to see he was alive and fairly healthy.
“You came!” He exclaimed, smiling at them. “I knew you would!” He said, reaching his arms out to them. Adam quickly scooped the child up and held him.
“You were expecting us?” He asked, baffled by the boys reaction. The child nodded and rested his head on Adam’s shoulder.
“I knew if mommy couldn’t come back, you would come.”
“Why?”
“Because I prayed, like in the song she sings me. I prayed for God to send his angels.” He informed him matter-of-factly. A wave of awe washed over them all at the mention of their song, and the men exchanged glances, knowing each of them felt the same. Edge moved forward and kissed the boy on the top of the head, tears in his eyes.
“You have your mobile?” Bono asked Larry who swallowed hard over all the emotions which were lodged in his throat. “Call the police.” Bono instructed, taking the boy out of Adam’s arms and hugging him close, muttering a prayer of thanks.
*******************************************
Two hours later the boy was sound asleep in the backseat of the rented car as the men talked with the local authorities. The child had no family left, and so social services had been contacted, but the thought of letting the little boy go into a crowded group home after this ordeal was out of the question for the men.
“It’s standard procedure.” The social worker told them. “I can’t release him into anyone’s custody who is not a blood relative.”
“Who determines that?” Bono asked, mobile phone in hand ready to call the white house if that was what it took. Adam wandered back into the trailer to look at the place where the boy had been living, knowing that if Bono set his mind to something he would achieve it, and no one would stop him. He was less concerned with how they got around the standard rules than he was curious about how a four year old had survived in the desert for so long alone.
“She didn’t take much, when she left.” The police officer who was inside told him when he saw Adam. “Maybe a weeks worth of clothes, some toys for the boy, and these.” He handed Adam a book of CD’s, and as he paged through them he saw just about everything they had ever released as a group or individually. He felt a bittersweet melancholy taking over. They had meant so much to this woman, though they had never met her, and now they never would.
He returned the CD book and turned to gather up some of the boys clothes and toys, carrying them out to the car. He heard Bono addressing the Governor of Nevada on the phone as he passed, and he loaded the boys things into the trunk. That boy was going home with him, at least for tonight. After that he’d make sure he was taken good care of, one way or another.
He turned and looked out into the desert night and saw a figure dancing on the horizon. Someone else would have thought it was the heat, maybe it was a mirage or dust in the wind. Adam knew it was her, though. He smiled and nodded in her direction before she melted away into thin air.
He found himself wandering in a dusty field; it was indistinguishable as any particular place. It could be Russia or Ireland or America or just about anywhere else on the planet. The wind blew fiercely, kicking up dust and debris around him, his eyes stinging, sand biting into any exposed flesh. It was twilight; the point between day and night at which the world seemed so surreal you’d swear anything was possible.
Twilight carried it an enchantment but it was also the harbinger of night, and of darkness. He walked, simply because there was nothing else to do. The field was wide open and seemed to stretch on forever, the horizon a distant blur. His steps faltered as something broke the line of the horizon, a shape, small at first but growing as it moved toward him. He recognized her immediately, those eyes shining in the dusk.
He opened his mouth to try and talk to her, but no words would form. She reached out to him, and he somehow willed his legs to move toward her. She was trying to tell him something, her lips moving, but of course he couldn’t hear her. He picked up his pace, at a jog now but she was still at a distance.
Suddenly his feet caught on something on the ground and he was tumbling, falling hard. As he hit the ground he found himself face to face with the same woman, only she stared blankly toward the sky, her eyes unseeing. Her pale skin was so cold to the touch it hurt his hand when he reached out to her.
He caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to see the woman, the living version of this corpse, standing directly behind him. She stared down at him with those intense eyes and he hadn’t even had time to register her presence before she leaned in, inches from his face and screamed. This time, he heard her clearly.
“Aaaadaaaaam!” She had wailed, and as she did Edge had bolted upright in bed with a gasp. He rubbed the back of his neck, an old habit when he was frustrated or deep in thought, and waited for his heart to slow to the point he could stand without trembling. He slid on his jeans without bothering to zip them or find a shirt and hurried to the phone. “Adam?”
“Yeah.”
“We need to talk.”
******************************************
“All I said was, I don’t think it’s a good idea.” Adam grumbled; his blue eyes hooded with disgust as he looked in the rear-view mirror at Edge.
“If you have a better suggestion, then please, share it with us. Otherwise…” He stopped short, knowing harsh words weren’t going to get them anywhere. His friend was tired, shaken up and concerned. He had the right to be, after all, he’d had it worse than any of the rest of them.
“You’re sure they’ll keep this confidential?” He asked, worried more about the band’s image if this strange news were to circulate. Consulting a group of people who called themselves experts in the paranormal was a strange thing to do, in his mind, and he knew plenty of other people would think so as well. Not that they had made their careers on worrying about what people thought, but this seemed different somehow. It wasn’t like it was something they believed deeply in and therefore wanted to be associated with.
“They signed the confidentiality agreement, faxed it back this afternoon.” Edge informed him as Larry brought the car to a stop in front of the less than impressive building and all four men stared at it with a sinking feeling in their guts. After four days of trying to get to the bottom of the situation themselves and two weeks of flawed recording attempts, they had reached the ends of their ropes. So here they were in the desert outside of Las Vegas, meeting a representative from a group of people who claimed to research the paranormal. The building itself looked more like an auto body shop than a professional building; or at least certainly not somewhere scientific experiments were likely to be conducted.
“They’re probably a bunch of con artists, cheating people out of their money and when they see us their greedy little palms are gonna start to sweat. They have the chance to sell a story to the trash papers at the very least.” Larry remarked as he stretched his long arms and broad shoulders as best he could in the drivers seat.
“They have a good reputation, I didn’t just pick the first group of whack-o’s I found on the internet.” Edge reassured his friends.
“Might as well get this over with and see what’s what, eh?” Bono remarked, the first to climb out of the rented car and make his way up the dusty path. “Hello?” He called out upon stepping into an empty lobby. A voice came from behind a door across the room in reply.
“Hello, be out in a minute!” The men looked around the cluttered room, noting recording equipment for both video and audio as well as other gadgets they didn’t recognize and stacks of grainy photographs piled on the desk, spilling over onto the floor. The photos themselves weren’t remarkable, just smears of light in the darkness mostly.
“Hi. Mr. Evans?” The woman greeted them, her attention directed toward Edge as she entered the room. A pair of unplugged earphones dangled from around her neck, her glasses sitting on top of her head and pushing her red hair back out of her face. She smiled politely and shook Edges hand when he nodded in greeting. “I’m Erica Laughlin, it’s good to meet you.” She told him, turning to search through the mess on the desk for an envelope which contained the information he’d sent her. He briefly introduced the others by first name and she acknowledged with a muffled greeting, holding her pencil between her teeth as she used both hands to lift a box off the file in question. “This is very interesting.” She told them as she withdrew the papers from the envelope and reviewed the case. “Do you have a copy of the EVP?”
“Yeah, we brought it. Here.” Edge informed her, handing over the recording. They had all been unwilling to have it floating around in the public. It wouldn’t have been the first time incomplete or imperfect recordings from the studio had been stolen from them. Her attention was on the CD as she spun and retreated through the door from which she had come, gesturing for the guys to follow.
“Has this been altered?” She asked as she listened to it the first time, typing commands on the keyboard furiously.
“Yeah, I…” Edge started but was interrupted.
“I need an original.” She informed him, frowning deeply at the man. Adam rolled his eyes, convinced more than ever that she was after the recording for her own profit.
“Why?”
“Because you took too much out of it. It’s almost certainly an example of EVP, but I can’t tell what she’s saying. You see, they don’t create the noise, they manipulate what is already there. I’ve never heard of it happening within such a wide spectrum of sound, it’s usually just white noise; monotonous sound.” She told them.
“Must’ve been in the bass part, then.” Larry quipped and even Adam had to chuckle at the unexpected but welcome moment of humor.
“I need to hear how the whole spectrum was altered.” She explained, and Edge grudgingly produced the unedited copy he’d hoped he wouldn’t have to give up. They listened as she isolated the interference, and for the first time they heard the message clearly. It sent shivers shooting through each of them it was so clear, now.
“Sam’s not dead.” Erica repeated.
“Not Sam.” Adam told her grimly. “Adam.” He said, and they looked at him, not comprehending his words at first. “She’s saying Adam’s not dead.”
“That’s pretty obvious, you’re standing right here.”
“Is it a warning of some sort?” Bono asked.
“You’re reading too much into it. It’s not as easy as that; there could be a million reason’s you’d be getting this residual psychic energy. Not the least of which is that you’re so well known. I guess you’re just too popular for your own good, fellas. You’ve got a stalker from beyond the grave.” She told them dryly, acknowledging that she recognized them for the first time. Then she turned back to the computer, withdrew the disc and handed it back to Edge. “I understand there’s been a name, too?” She asked.
“Natalie.” He informed her and she turned to her notebook.
“Young woman, average height and weight. Her accent was North American.” She said, more to herself than them. “And the concern expressed is for ‘Adam’ Maybe you or maybe someone else altogether named Adam. None of you have recognized her?” She checked to see she was correct. She sighed and closed her notebook, rising and leading them back out to the lobby. “Ok, well, I’ll let you know if we can do anything further to help.”
“That’s it?” Bono demanded as she started to walk back into the lobby. She glanced back over her shoulder and replied coolly,
“I didn’t ask you to fly out here. You could have sent me the CD. You didn’t want to do that, and I can’t tell you what I don’t know.” She explained with a shrug which was beyond irritating. Their lives were being completely side tracked and all she could do was shrug and tell them little more than they already knew.
***************************************************
Adam sat on the corner of the hotel bed staring off into space, his head aching. Adam. He’d heard his own name clearly. It made sense didn’t it? Edge swore it had been Adam’s name she screamed at him in his dream. Plus Adam was the one who’d started having the dreams, but he’d ignored them.
Now all of their lives were disrupted, and it felt a lot like a nightmare he just couldn’t wake up from. He saw her every time he closed his eyes, every time he slept. She was getting angry, frustrated that he wasn’t helping her. He lay down and turned out the light, trying to remember everything from the dreams, every little detail. There had to be something, some reason for all of this.
Suddenly the TV flicked on, lights flashing and filling the darkened room, the volume all the way up. The sound of a woman screaming, wailing for help, poured out of the speakers and made Adam jump out of bed instinctively, his heart racing and adrenaline pumping through his body in a rush of fear and surprise.
“Fuck!” He muttered, grabbing the remote and turning the TV off quickly, standing back away from it as if afraid it would bite. Soon the others were pounding on his door, having heard the screaming from their own hotel rooms. He turned on the light and let them in, yanking the plug on the TV out of the wall. Almost immediately the TV screen came to life again, and the first thing the men saw upon entering was Adam holding the cord while the TV blared loudly.
“Holy shit.” Edge mumbled as Adam dropped the cord and backed away from the TV. The men were dumbfounded for a moment as the TV began to turn itself on and then off again. Adam slid into his pants and shirt, carrying his shoes and putting them on as he walked out the door and down the hall.
“Where are going?” Bono asked, and Adam called back over his shoulder at his friend but did not stop or even slow his pace.
“I need a fucking drink.” He informed him, and they knew he meant it.
“Hey, you don’t…” Edge started, hurrying to catch up to him, but Adam spun and pointed a finger at his friend.
“Don’t tell me I don’t need a drink, because believe me when I say…” He was telling Edge in a cool tone when his voice drifted off, his eyes landing on something behind Edge. Any color he’d had in his cheeks drained and Edge turned to look. Even in the black and white picture, he recognized those eyes.
“Good God.” He muttered as the men gathered around the newspaper stand. The headline announced boldly ‘Missing woman found dead’. Adam quickly withdrew the change from his pocket and slid it into the machine, each man grabbing a copy and reading the story which followed.
~ The search for Natalie Evers has ended in tragedy as police discover her body in an abandoned vehicle on Monday afternoon. The body of her estranged husband was also in the car, in an apparent murder-suicide. The woman had been filed for divorce and co-workers were concerned when she disappeared nearly two weeks ago. Natalie had no family but the couple had one child, a son named Adam, who is still missing. ‘Considering the discovery of the bodies today, I have to say that any hope of finding the boy is diminished.’ Police chief Ernie Timbers is quoted as saying. ‘But we will continue to search, of course, and if anyone has any potential information, please contact the Sheriff’s department or the Nevada State police.’ Adam is four years old, with blonde hair and brown eyes and was last seen wearing a red T-shirt and blue jeans. He has a recent scar on his chin from a bicycle accident which required stitches. ~
“Adam’s not dead.” Bono repeated, the men’s eyes meeting as the message became clear to them finally. “So now what do we do?”
“I don’t know.” Edge admitted in defeat. They couldn’t exactly go to the police with what they knew, it was all dreams and static. No one would believe them; hell if the tables were turned they doubted they’d believe the story themselves.
“I need some air.” Adam informed them, continuing to the elevator with the newspaper tucked under his arm. The men followed him to the car, but when he reached for the door Bono caught his hand.
“You’re too shook up to drive, let me.” He said. Larry snorted with unexpected laughter at the suggestion, and Adam shook his head.
“Not a chance, I don’t want the next message to be that THIS Adam IS dead.” The men climbed in, unwilling to let their mate be alone right then and frankly, not wanting to be alone themselves.
“Where are you going?” Edge asked When Adam steered the car out of the city and into the North where the city suddenly ended into a vast nothingness.
“I don’t know…” He muttered, frowning as he looked out the window into the darkness. Suddenly, he slammed on the brakes, all four of the men lunging forward with the suddenness of the stop.
“I know this place.” He told them, sliding the car into reverse and taking a long two-track driveway off the road. “I know this place.” he repeated as if trying to convince himself. An ancient travel trailer appeared as the crested a slight hill. “I dreamt about this.” He informed them, parking the car and hurrying out the door toward the trailer.
“What’s he doing?”
“He’s gonna get his bloody head blown off, barge in on somebody!”
They tried to catch him, but he was a man on a mission now, and there was no stopping him. What they saw when they stepped into the tiny RV made them all catch their breath.
A small boy lay sleeping on the bench seat, his clothes and hair and face all filthy. Their were empty water bottles, fruit cans and junk food wrappers strewn about everywhere, as well as a handful of cheap toys and dirty laundry.
The boy had been here for two weeks, alone, caring for himself as best a four year old possibly could. Hearing the noise of the men enter, the boy stirred, rubbing tired eyes with the backs of his hands. He blinked up at them and yawned, and all four men felt a giddy relief to see he was alive and fairly healthy.
“You came!” He exclaimed, smiling at them. “I knew you would!” He said, reaching his arms out to them. Adam quickly scooped the child up and held him.
“You were expecting us?” He asked, baffled by the boys reaction. The child nodded and rested his head on Adam’s shoulder.
“I knew if mommy couldn’t come back, you would come.”
“Why?”
“Because I prayed, like in the song she sings me. I prayed for God to send his angels.” He informed him matter-of-factly. A wave of awe washed over them all at the mention of their song, and the men exchanged glances, knowing each of them felt the same. Edge moved forward and kissed the boy on the top of the head, tears in his eyes.
“You have your mobile?” Bono asked Larry who swallowed hard over all the emotions which were lodged in his throat. “Call the police.” Bono instructed, taking the boy out of Adam’s arms and hugging him close, muttering a prayer of thanks.
*******************************************
Two hours later the boy was sound asleep in the backseat of the rented car as the men talked with the local authorities. The child had no family left, and so social services had been contacted, but the thought of letting the little boy go into a crowded group home after this ordeal was out of the question for the men.
“It’s standard procedure.” The social worker told them. “I can’t release him into anyone’s custody who is not a blood relative.”
“Who determines that?” Bono asked, mobile phone in hand ready to call the white house if that was what it took. Adam wandered back into the trailer to look at the place where the boy had been living, knowing that if Bono set his mind to something he would achieve it, and no one would stop him. He was less concerned with how they got around the standard rules than he was curious about how a four year old had survived in the desert for so long alone.
“She didn’t take much, when she left.” The police officer who was inside told him when he saw Adam. “Maybe a weeks worth of clothes, some toys for the boy, and these.” He handed Adam a book of CD’s, and as he paged through them he saw just about everything they had ever released as a group or individually. He felt a bittersweet melancholy taking over. They had meant so much to this woman, though they had never met her, and now they never would.
He returned the CD book and turned to gather up some of the boys clothes and toys, carrying them out to the car. He heard Bono addressing the Governor of Nevada on the phone as he passed, and he loaded the boys things into the trunk. That boy was going home with him, at least for tonight. After that he’d make sure he was taken good care of, one way or another.
He turned and looked out into the desert night and saw a figure dancing on the horizon. Someone else would have thought it was the heat, maybe it was a mirage or dust in the wind. Adam knew it was her, though. He smiled and nodded in her direction before she melted away into thin air.
