The Dominant Hand Page 24

  A. Look for out-of-place artists that do not belong in store.

  B. If an inappropriate album was purchased, determine whether to pull off rack by figuring chance of album being bought quickly. Factor in local versus out of state. Garth Brooks, for instance, might be local, but does not outweigh the impact of the overall flow of used CDs rack.

  C. If an album does not fit the criteria to stay, the album will be removed and passed along to undisclosed friend who will then take album to undisclosed competitor store to see if it will purchase the album.

  D. Marcus will discuss the situation with the store employee who brought album into his used CD rack and will review the store’s polices stated in employee handbook.

  V. Check e-mail.

  VI. Check news.

  VII. Check zines, blogs and online magazines.

  VIII. Review orders, purchases and look over the album releases in the coming months to ensure everything that needs to be ordered is ordered.

  IX. Write note to remind himself that he should write a letter to Ira’s wife.

  X. E-mail his wife to catch up on the last few days’ happenings.

  XI. Turn on stereo and open store.

  His wife had shoved a bowl of Halloween candy in his hands before he’d left this morning, insisting he couldn’t be the only shop downtown without candy.

  Marcus prepared himself for another annoyance that would come up repeatedly. He printed out a map leading to the concert that night, mumbled his excuse for not going himself, ensuring it sounded legit and then placed all Shropshire Plaid albums on the counter.

  He folded open the day’s paper and began with the A&E section so he could catch up on celebrity gossip before anyone entered the store. Just as he began skimming a story on a deadly overdose, the door pinged. Marcus glanced up at a chubby, red-bearded man wearing a tie-dye T-shirt and camouflage shorts.

  He made a mental note to e-mail his wife about this guy. She found hippies funny, though slightly unnerving—sort of how children look at clowns.

  “How ya doin?” Marcus smiled curiously.

  “Hey,” the man nodded, as he approached the counter.

  Marcus noticed a notebook in the man’s hand. The man walked with a slight sway, not like he was stoned or drunk, but like he was a bit too enamored with dead musicians who spent a lot of their time swaying from being stoned or drunk. The man also smelled like car sweat.

  “Cool,” the man said, picking up the map Marcus had just printed out. “Can I keep this?”

  “Sure.”

  “Hey, what do you know about this concert?” the man asked, snatching a miniature Milky Way bar from the bowl.

  “People are saying Jim will be there, but no one really knows,” Marcus said, swiveling to his computer to print out another map and to check for an aerosol can of germ-killing air freshener under the cash register. He knew it would be rude to pull it out while the guy was in the store, but he was glad it was there and he didn’t have to search for it later.

  “I heard that Jacobs guy died,” the man said, unwrapping the Milky Way and popping it in his mouth.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” he said while chewing. “My name is Mitch, you know, Mitch the Witch. I do a podcast.”

  “Ah,” Marcus replied turning back to him. He stood up and shook Mitch’s hand, averting his eyes from Mitch’s mouthful of chocolate. “Good to meet you, I hear good things.”

  “Really?” the man asked gleefully.

  “Sure.”

  “Well, I’m trying to get down there, to the concert,” Mitch said. “Except, I also want to go to their campground thing.”

  “Hmm,” Marcus replied.

  “Do you know where it is?”

  “Nope,” Marcus said. “Never been there. It’s in the area, not far from where they are setting up their stage, but you can’t drive to it, there aren’t any roads. You can probably walk from the stage area though.”

  “Huh,” the man said, glancing over Shropshire Plaid CDs. “Are any of these good?”

  “You’ve never heard any of their music?”

  “Well, I’ve heard a song here and there, but never a full album.”

  “Oh,” Marcus smirked. “Well, Soldier Girl is generally considered their best, and it was the most commercially successful. It won them a Grammy. The music on that album is more straight-ahead college pop, which people like. If you want something more conceptual, Bus Ride is the most experimental. Sounds a bit like more artsy second-generation punk. Then there’s A Reckoning, You Reckon?”

  “A Reckoning, You Reckon?” Mitch chuckled, picking up the album.

  “Yeah, it’s the last album, where he starts talking about apocalypse and saving the world,” Marcus sighed. “Not a bad album, but weird and he lost a lot of fans after it. They didn’t tour in support of it—the band just sort of collapsed after it came out.”

  “Hmm,” Mitch nodded. “You wouldn’t happen to know someone who knows exactly where the campground is?”

  “Not really,” Marcus said. “Or, at least not anyone who has told me they do.”

  Mitch put the album back down and reached into his pocket, pulling out a bent business card. He slid it across the counter and Marcus just looked at it. Mitch grabbed three other pieces of candy and shoved them into his pocket.

  “If you could, call me if you hear anything.”

  “Will do,” Marcus said.

  Mitch smiled, looked around like he was considering shopping, but he turned toward the door and walked back out. He turned to wave through the window. Marcus waved back, and once Mitch turned, Marcus used a pen to scoot the card into the trash. He removed the bowl of candy, placing it under the counter to be displayed at Marcus’s discretion. Marcus then grabbed the air freshener and sprayed it liberally on the counter and then on his hand.

  He’d heard of the podcast out of Ohio. It was a hold out from the times of conspiracy theorists ranting via individually owned radio stations. Apparently the actual show was canceled, so Mitch continued on a podcast. It was train wreck programming which didn’t realize it was train wreck programming, that made Marcus curious, but not enough to go out of his way to listen.

  The doorbell chimed again, startling Marcus. He expected Mitch with more questions, but instead saw Jim’s wife, Ashley and the Plaid’s bassist, Billy Cohen, walking in. Ashley was drenched with sweat and her eyes were wide and worried. Billy had a large purple bruise on his temple and cuts all over his face.

  “Hi,” Marcus said warily.

  “Marcus, where’s Jim?” Ashley asked as she approached the counter. Billy scanned the store for customers as he wavered slightly.

  “I don’t know,” Marcus replied. “Are you okay, Billy?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Have you heard anything about Jim?” Ashley asked, but Marcus shrugged.

  Ashley kicked the counter hard enough to make a rack of CDs fall over.

  “Fuck,” she mumbled, not acknowledging the albums spilling off the counter. “Do you at least know where Robbie is?”

  Billy stood the rack back up. He bent over to pick CDs up off the floor, but lost his balance momentarily. He straightened up and rubbed his temple.

  “What’s going on?” Marcus asked, as he scurried around the counter and picked up the CDs.

  “Do you know where Robbie is?” Ashley repeated.

  “Sean is missing,” Billy added.

  Marcus’s eyes widened and he took a heavy breath. He placed the CDs behind the counter and then sat down.

  “They took him?” Marcus asked, but not looking up for an answer.

  “Where is Robbie?” Ashley demanded, her voice brimming with anger.

  “I don’t know. I haven’t seen him since the funeral. Did you try to call him?”

  “Yes, Marcus!” Ashley yelled. “Do you think we would …”

  “Ashley,” Billy said, cutting her off. He put his arms around her, pulling her into his chest. She wilted and began sobbing.

  “We hav
en’t been able to get ahold of Robbie since he left Dallas,” Billy said.

  Marcus sat the air freshener back under the counter and walked to the front door. He locked it and flipped the “Open” sign over to “Closed.” He noted with irritation that Mitch the Witch sat inside his rusted out Pinto across the street watching them.

  “Did Robbie say he knew where Sean was?” Marcus asked.

  Billy ushered Ashley around the counter and sat her down. She leaned back, no longer crying. Marcus guessed she’d just run out of energy.

  “No,” Billy replied. “We think he’s probably at the compound.”

  “Do you really not know where Jim is?” Ashley asked.

  Marcus took off his glasses and rubbed his nose. He sighed and put the glasses back on.

  “I know he’s with Chris right now and I think Will Weinke is with them, too,” Marcus said. “I swear to God I didn’t know anything about your son. I don’t think Jim knows either.”

  “That fucker,” Ashley hissed.

  Billy took out his cell phone and punched in numbers.

  “Are you calling his cell or his studio?” Marcus asked.

  “His cell,” Billy answered. “Do you think he’s at the studio?”

  “Doubt it.”

  The front door rattled. Marcus glanced over and saw the polo shirt-wearing man that Dirk guessed was an undercover cop. Marcus shrugged and pointed at the “Closed” sign. The man nodded, checked his watch and then pulled out a cell phone. Marcus watched him walk off, now worried that Dirk was right.

  “Pick up, goddammit,” Billy growled into his phone. “Chris, you need to call me when you get this. Jim has got to go to the event tonight. Something bad has happened.”

  Billy turned off his phone and slid it into his pocket. He glanced at Ashley, who was looking out the window.

  “Do you know where the compound is, that campground thing they have?” Ashley asked.

  “Yeah,” Marcus said. “You don’t want to go there, though. It’s starting to get dangerous.”

  “Do you think Sean is there?” Billy asked.

  “Maybe. I don’t know.”

  Ashley stood up, walked around the counter and glared at Marcus.

  “If you know,” Ashley hissed, “you better fucking tell me right now.”

  Marcus held his eyes on Ashley.

  “There are only two places that he could be,” Marcus said. “At the commune in Oklahoma City, or at the campground. I’m guessing that both places are being guarded closely, so if Sean is there, we won’t be able to just walk in and take him back.”

  “No fucking hippie emo freaks in skirts are going to stand between me and my son!” Ashley growled. She grabbed Marcus’ shirt and pulled him toward the door. “Lock up, you’re coming with us!”

  ******

  Marcus sat in the backseat of Ashley’s car as it zoomed north on I-35 toward Oklahoma City. Marcus saw Mitch’s Pinto dodging through traffic behind them, trying to keep up. Marcus wasn’t too worried about him; the guy seemed harmless. The only problem was that he could keep them from sneaking into the commune. Marcus was pretty sure he could walk in and look around without being hassled, but with this guy trailing him, they would start asking questions.

  Marcus then wondered if there were unmarked government cars tailing them. He didn’t see any, but also didn’t really know what to look for.

  “I was just there,” Ashley grumbled while driving. “I was on my way to the Dogbowl to talk to him.”

  “Who?” Billy asked.

  “Brian,” Ashley said.

  “What did he say to you?” Marcus asked.

  “I didn’t actually talk to him,” Ashley said. “I was going there to talk to him because one of his druggies took something from Sean. I decided to just let it go.”

  Ashley grit her teeth and shook her head.

  “Goddammit!” she yelled and pounded her fist against the steering wheel. She took a breath, wiped tears carefully from her eyes and then quickly checked herself in the rearview mirror.

  “What did they take?” Marcus asked.

  Ashley shifted the rearview mirror to see Marcus. Marcus glanced away uncomfortably.

  “A razor blade.”

  Marcus fell back against the seat.

  “What?”

  “It was Jim’s, right?” Marcus asked.

  “Yes, it was,” Ashley answered, looking from the road to the rearview mirror. Billy turned around to look at Marcus.

  “What’s with the razor?” Billy asked.

  Marcus scratched his cheek and looked out the window.

  “They need Jim’s blood to open the gateway enough to go through,” Marcus said.

  “Jesus, Marcus,” Billy sighed.

  “Okay, look,” Marcus snapped. “I’ve been out there, at one time I spent a lot of time around Jim. He’s the one who gave us the money for the store, and for a little while I looked after the finances as a way to pay him back. I don’t anymore, not since I got married and Jim disappeared. I’m not involved in any of this crap.”

  “What’s Jim have to do with all this?” Ashley said.

  “I’ve heard some people say Jim has been through the rift and now, he has come back through. That’s why he just seemed to pop up out of nowhere. Apparently, it’s like a door, and it can be closed, but only from the other side. They want to go in as a group, close it and protect the door so it won’t ever open again. They need Jim to do that.”

  “So, why did they take Sean?” Ashley asked.

  “A contingency plan, I guess. He’s got Jim’s blood in him, so they probably figure it will get them through. They aren’t going to kill him, but they will try to take him over with them to the other side.”

  “Fuck!” Ashley screamed.

  “Do you want me to drive?” Billy asked.

  “No!”

  Marcus slunk back against the seat and shook his head.

  “I didn’t have anything to do with this,” he mumbled.

  No one answered. There was only the soft thumping sound of the wheels passing the cracks on a bridge.

  “What’s on the other side?” Billy asked. “Is it the ogres that Jim was talking about?”

  “I don’t know,” Marcus said. “No one can agree on that. Some people think it’s just this energy that kind of manifests itself in different forms, so if you want to see a monster, you see a monster. Some other people think that whatever is on the other side created the rift so they could come over to our side.”

  “Some people think it’s all a hoax,” Billy said.

  “Yeah, I know.”

  ******

  All the lights were off inside the commune. There were no cars, no people walking around inside or outside of the building. Ashley hid the car in an alleyway a block away. They were crouched behind a Dumpster watching the commune.

  “Where are they?” Billy asked.

  “The campgrounds probably,” Marcus answered. “There might be some people holed up in there though. Let me go check it out on my own.”

  “What if it’s locked?” Ashley asked.

  Marcus grimaced.

  “I’ll figure something out.”

  Marcus stood up and walked across the street to the building. He looked through the windows, but couldn’t see any movement inside. He pulled on the door, but it was locked. Marcus then walked around to the back door. He noticed cigarette butts scattered in the back, which were usually picked up by the dustmites. When Marcus was out of view, he took out his keys and unlocked the back door. He took a breath to calm himself, and then he walked in.

  “Brian!” Marcus called, but no one answered.

  Marcus passed through the storage area to the kitchen where there was an overwhelming smell of bleach. Everything was washed and left out to dry, metal tubs for the deli aligned neatly, surfaces shiny. It was all cleaner than normal.

  Marcus walked into the front area and then upstairs. He went room to room, knocking and then looking in. It was all emp
ty. Brian’s room was also empty. Marcus walked to a small safe inside and dialed in the code. It unlatched and Marcus opened it.

  The money was gone, the drugs were gone, only a set of keys were left inside. A large, silver woman’s silhouette was attached to it with fake blue jewels for eyes and red jewels for nipples.

  “Nick,” Marcus mumbled while turning the keys over in his hand.

  Marcus threw the keys back in the safe, closed it and ran downstairs. He went out the back door, locking it behind him.

  “They’re gone,” a voice called. Marcus startled and swiveled around.

  An old man walked toward him, holding the leashes of two dogs, one white and growling, one brown and cowering behind the man.

  “They all packed up and left,” the old man said. “I guess you’re with them?”

  “No, not really,” Marcus said. “Did they have a boy with them?”

  “Yes, sir,” the old man said. “Tried to tell the cops about it, but they wouldn’t believe me.”

  “Okay, thanks,” Marcus said as he turned.

  “Are you going after the boy?” the old man asked.

  “Yes, sir, I am.”

  “They beat up that man from Texas, didn’t they?”

  Marcus took a breath and looked away.

  “They got you fooled just like everyone else,” the old man grunted, then turned and pulled his dogs with him.

  Marcus ran across the street and jumped into Ashley’s car.

  “They are all gone,” Marcus said. “Some guy said they had Sean with him.”

  “Why didn’t he call the cops?” Billy asked.

  “He did, but this is the Dogbowl,” Marcus said. “Cops don’t bother with the Dogbowl. That’s why the commune’s here.”

  “Jesus,” Ashley grunted, then shoved the car into drive.

  ******

  Marcus glanced at his phone as the car pulled to a stop. He was amazed he could still get a signal this far east of Norman. He dialed Chris’s number, but there was no answer. He tried Robbie, but it didn’t even ring before an electronic voice let Marcus know the caller was out of area.

  Marcus opened the car door and stepped out onto the dirt path. There were hundreds of cars along the road, seemingly abandoned by others trying to find the campground.