Michael: The Mark (Airel Saga Book Four)

Chapter VIII

Arlington, Oregon—Present Day

AFTER MUCH INTERNAL DEBATE about what to do with the body of the boy, Michael decided to steal a boat. He slipped into the water with the corpse and swam sidestroke, his trailing arm dragging the lifeless husk along behind. It was the only way to avoid the well-lit paths of the park, the lighted docks of the marina.

It only took about fifteen minutes of swimming under the Interstate bridges out to the docks. He found a wakeboard boat with a large platform on the stern and floated the body onto it. Pulling himself up, he climbed aboard and pulled the body with him, laying it flat on the deck. One minute more yielded the hiding place for the keys, the master power switch, and ignition. A few more minutes and he had cast off.

Allowing the boat's engine to idle, he piloted it out past the breakwater to the wide open and swiftly moving currents of the Columbia River. Turning the bow to the left, he let the boat slip into the downstream current and cut the engine.

"Good-bye, Marc. I'm sorry." It was all he could say.

He turned, stepped over the transom onto the rear platform, and lowered himself quietly into the river. He swam with the current, making his way slowly toward shore. By the time he reached it, the sun was beginning to peel the night sky back, opening the day wide at the eastern horizon. He stood on the southern shore of the Columbia about half a mile from the park and his hotel room. He faced the river and looked for the boat. It was drifting quickly downstream from him, farther out in the middle of the river. Before too long, it would crash into the John Day Dam, unless the police or someone else apprehended it.

"Good thing our plane leaves soon." He began the walk back, his pace rapid.

***

5 A.M. AND I WAS already in the shower getting ready for our flight.

I didn't sleep very well, or very long. I had weird dreams that I couldn't remember, and I woke up missing my family terribly. The ache I felt for them went beyond my parents, though. It was like I missed my extended family, people I hadn't seen since the last reunion—Mandatory Fun Day, I always called it. Come on, I miss these people? Weird Aunt Stella? Cousin Fred and his stupid Trans Am? Granny Beatrice and her flatulence? Really? No, there had to be something more, something different. I wasn't seeing it; there was some weird blockage.

It had to be the stone. I wished I could have talked to Michael about it, but he was obviously dealing with enough already. I felt bad for him, but then again, if he was stupid enough to carry that stupid thing and think he could remain unaffected, well, I guess I wished him well. I mean, I had no proof of whether or not he had it, but I wasn't stupid; it was obvious. All it took was one glance into his eyes as he told me to leave him alone. Of course he had it. But I couldn't be a part of that decision.

Which really sucked. She, what am I going to do?

The answer came back instantly: "Listen. Just watch."

"Oh, my God." I said aloud to the shower tiles. "Cryptic and mysterious as usual. You know," I said, "it's nice that Yoda lives in my head. It's a little ridiculous, but I like it," I said as I scrubbed my hair with what was left of the wholly inadequate hotel shampoo. "But one question, Master She: When do we get to the good part; you know, where I get to levitate you?" Because I'm going to let you drop like a sack of rocks, babe. Deal with that.

Then a single word popped into my head: "Parables."

Yeah, yeah, I get it. I get that you're like, teaching me in parables. But it's pissing me off, all right? I can say so and that's okay. I swear I could see the smug little smirk on She's face. Ooo, that made me mad.