LOST
Ripples on the Surface, Tremors Underneath

Stew flipped through the channels on the television trying to replace something on besides Election Day coverage. He desperately needed an escape—something to take him out of his hospital bed and into a world of complete fiction. He didn’t care if history was going to be made that day or not. Politics was not going to transport him anywhere. Even the usual cable movie channels were all showing president or politically themed movies—My Fellow Americans, Primary Colors, An American President, Wag the Dog. The Sci-Fi Channel—the last bastion of small screen escapism—surely, he thought, he would be able to replace something.

When he found the channel he was looking for, it was a commercial—a political ad, no less—but he was willing to wait. He excitedly adjusted himself in his bed, getting comfortable and when the program came back on, the frown came back. The text at the bottom of the screen read ‘You’re watching… The Manchurian Candidate.’

“Damn it!” he shouted in disgust.

“Stew?” a female voice called from outside the door.

“I’m sorry. I’ll keep it down,” he said apologetically.

“You have a visitor,” the nurse said.

“Hey,” Alex said as she walked into the room. She was wearing a brown, corduroy jacket and faded blue jeans. Her red hair was tucked behind her ear on one side, but the other side looked as though it had been tucked at one point but had now come loose and was nonchalantly hanging in front of her eyes. “I just came by to see how you were doing.”

Something in her voice seemed to be a mental laxative for Stew and any coherent thought he was thinking was flushed out of his brain. He just smiled at her as the TV remote slowly slipped out of his hand and fell to the floor. The sound of plastic hitting hardwood flooring startled him back to his senses.

“Stew? Are you okay?” she asked, worried, as she took his hand and sat down in the chair between his bed and the window.

“Yeah… yeah…” Stew replied as he wiped the corners of his mouth and ran a hand through his hair, which did nothing but make the rat’s nest more noticeable. “You should have called. I would have taken a shower.”

“Don’t worry about it. My boss stinks all the time. And he says he bathes everyday,” she assured him. “So, how are you feeling?”

“Not bad. I just—”

“Stew?” a familiar voice called from outside the room. It was Jade. And she had a box. Stew could see the sleeve of his green, UC sweatshirt hanging over the side. All he could do was stare in amazement at her horrible timing. “I see why you wanted to break up with me now. That’s fine.” She dropped the box and Stew could hear CD cases snap and break as it hit the floor. A nurse came over and asked her to leave or she would have to call security. “I’m leaving.” She let out a big and dramatic sigh. “I can’t believe you, Stew.” And then she was gone.

“The last thing I want to do, Stew, is be the other woman,” Alex said, standing up and letting go of his hand.

“You’re not,” he assured her. “I had been trying to break up with her for two weeks. I just couldn’t ever replace the words. Well, last night, I found the words.”

“All right. That makes me feel a little better.”

Just as she sat back down, there was a knock on the door. “Jesus. What now? Come in,” Stew said as the door creaked open.

“Hi, Mr. Kasey. Detective Alderman. We spoke on the phone yesterday.”

“Sure. I remember. Come on in.”

Alex bent over and picked the remote up off the floor, turned the TV off and then stood up, offering the detective the seat.

“Oh, no. I can stand. You sit.” She opened a folder she had been carrying and took out a piece of paper with a man’s picture on it. “I brought Faustini’s mug shot,” the detective said as she handed the piece of paper to Stew. “Does he look familiar at all?”

Stew looked closely at the picture, “Nope. Never seen him before.”

“That’s what I figured,” she said, somewhat disappointed, but still as though she got the answer she expected.

“Sorry, Detective,” Stew said, shrugging his shoulders.

“It’s okay. We have reason to believe there was a third person involved and I have a hunch that it’s this person the other two were working for. And it’s him who I believe is connected to you somehow.”

“Wait—are you saying you think someone ordered a hit on me?”

“I’m considering it a possibility. Do you owe anyone money?”

“No.”

“Do you gamble?”

“No.”

“Hm. Hold on. You’re a film critic, correct?”

“Yeah…”

“Given any bad reviews lately?”

“You’re not serious, are you?” Stew chuckled.

“I’m a detective. No stone unturned…”

“Yes, I’ve given a few bad reviews in the past, but as far as I can remember, I was one among hundreds. I mean, if someone’s going to try and kill me because I gave their film half a star out of five, then you might want to call up the Chicago Tribune and see if Roeper showed up to work today.”

“Okay, okay. I’m just brainstorming here. There’s no one at the paper? Maybe someone pissed off? Maybe they’re after your job. Maybe you took their stapler…”

“Their stapler?”

“You never know. Maybe they took a hit out as a Halloween joke and the people they hired took it seriously.”

Stew stared at Detective Alderman with a skeptic eyebrow cocked.

“I’m grasping at straws,” she said, after which she let out a sigh of defeat.

“Isn’t there a chance this could just have been a random thing?” Alex interrupted. “Crack does strange things to people.”

“I suppose, but they didn’t replace any drugs in Faustini’s system.” After an awkward pause, she continued, “Well, let me give you my card.” She rifled through her pocketbook, looking for her leather business card holder.

“I know the drill. If I think of anything, I’ll give you a call.”

“I swear…,” she said as she gave the card to Stew, “Hollywood’s ruined it for all cops.” Just as Stew was about to take the card from her, the detective remembered something. “Wait a second. I knew there was something I was forgetting.” She pulled another picture out of the folder and handed it to Stew. “It’s just a shot in the dark, but you haven’t seen this guy, have you?” The man in the picture had dark, scraggly hair and a drit-eating grin that could win a drit-eating grin contest.

“Mm, no.” he said, shaking his head. “He looks like a winner, though.”

Alex peeked over Stew’s shoulder from the other side of the bed and gasped. “That’s Wiz!” she yelled.

“Wiz? The guy who saved my life?”

“Yes. Why are you looking for him?” she asked Detective Alderman, not believing what she was implying.

“Well, I was wanting to question Wiz about the attack. I forgot to ask you when we spoke on the phone that night if you’d seen him since. And this is the mug shot of a man who escaped from jail the night before the attack. But… since they’re the same person…” Detective Alderman paused to think for a moment. “Do you know where Wiz might be now? If you had to guess…”

“If I had to guess,” Alex pondered, “I’d have to say Kristy’s Diner.”

The detective’s face lit up with a ‘Eureka moment’ smile. “Which just happens to be right next to the alley where—”

“You don’t really think he had anything to do with the attack, do you?” Alex asked in disbelief.

“I don’t know. I’ll have to talk to him before I can jump to that conclusion. But… ask yourself one question before you start defending him. You were strangers before the attack and you haven’t seen him since. How well do you know him? And you said you entered the alley just as the two attackers were exiting. Right?”

Alex’s face sank. She looked at the floor while she replayed the scene in her head.

“Just sit tight here with Stew. I’ll go see if I can replace our man, Wiz,” she said as she started for the door.

“Wait!” Something sprang from Alex’s memory. The detective stopped and turned around. “He’ll have a dog with him. A medium brown and black dog.”

“He should be easy enough to spot, then. I’ll let you know.” She had her cellphone flipped open before she was even out of sight. “Robles—You know that guy who escaped Friday?”

As she walked toward the elevators, confident and determined, she had no idea the strange and difficult road that lay ahead of her.

Marie had to drive around for fifteen minutes before finally replaceing a parking spot just a block a way from the diner. Uptown Charlotte was a busy place on Monday mornings. As she approached the glass door, she looked at Wiz’s mug shot once more. Inside she looked around and saw no one who looked even vaguely similar.

“Can I help you?” the waitress behind the counter asked.

“Yes,” Marie replied as she showed her badge and handed the waitress the picture. “Detective Alderman. Have you seen this man?”

“I remember him. He was in here yesterday. Been in here quite a few times, actually. Always has a dog with him. Why? Is he in trouble?”

“So, you haven’t seen him today, then?”

“No, Ma’am. Would you like me to call you if I do?”

“Yes, please. That would be great.” Marie pulled a business card out of her inside coat pocket and gave it to the waitress. “And can I get your name?”

“Bonnie Ferrell,” the waitress said, looking at the card.

“Thank you, Ms. Ferrell.” Marie turned and started for the door when a man opened it and let his dog precede him inside.

“Wiz?”

“Do I know you?” Wiz asked suspiciously.

“Detective Alderman.”

“Oh, drit,” Wiz said, his posture sagging in defeat, letting his messenger bag slide off his shoulder. He grabbed the strap with his hand, keeping it from falling to the ground. He knew he was caught.

“What’s in the bag?”

Wiz closed his eyes, not wanting to see himself give her such incriminating evidence as a dagger in his possession. If he had more time, he could have cloaked the dagger in shadow but if he reached in the bag now to do that, he might have to fish a bullet or two out of his gut, which was never the most pleasant thing to do. Marie took the bag, looked inside and immediately saw what Wiz did not want her to see. She looked up at him, her mouth agape. Wiz opened his mouth, intending to say something but simply sighed instead.

“Why don’t we take a ride? Put your hands against the wall.”

“I know what it seems like, Detective,” Wiz said as she put handcuffs on him. “I assure you, not everything is as it seems.”

“Did you or did you not escape from jail last night?”

“I did.”

“That’s all I need to know. Come on.”

“The dog can go, right?”

Marie looked down to see Goose looking up at her, forlorn. “He makes a mess in my car and you’re cleaning it up. Understood?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Marie took him by the shoulder to her midnight blue, four door sedan and put him in the back seat, passenger side. Goose jumped in after him. She walked around to the driver’s side and got in, keeping the messenger bag close to her.

“Animal Control will have to come pick your dog up at the station, though. You do realize that.”

“Any chance we could talk here for a few minutes?”

“We can talk at the station.” She had her cell phone out and up to her ear.

“Please, Detective.”

“Fine. Talk.” She put her cell phone back down and shifted in her seat so that she was looking directly at Wiz.

“Are you a religious person, Ms. Alderman?” Wiz asked in a very calm voice.

“I haven’t gone to church in awhile but not because of a lack of faith. What does that have to do with—”

“Are you a trustworthy person?”

“Yes. I believe myself to be. What are you—”

“One last question. Are you open-minded?”

“Yes. It’s somewhat of a requirement in my line of work. Now, would you mind explaining what this has to do with you escaping from jail and then not sticking around to give police a statement after you supposedly saved someone from being killed?”

“With what I’m about to show you, you’re probably going to want to question your eyes. Don’t.”

“Uh, okay.”

Wiz held out his hand and placed a tiny acorn in his palm. After a few seconds, an oak sapling erupted from the sheath and roots began to grow out of the sides. As the oak grew to its full size of ten inches, the roots hung over the edges of his hand. Goose had been lying on the seat next to Wiz, with his head on his paws. When he saw the tree spring up, he sat up and cocked his head slightly to the side. The branches were full of bright green leaves and within seconds, they changed colors. Yellow and orange. Red and brown. Wiz then blew a winter wind through the tree’s little limbs and the leaves swirled in circles and spirals around the detective’s awe-stricken face. Wiz closed his hand around the bare branched tree and just as quickly, opened it again to reveal an empty palm.

“There is magic in the world, Ms. Alderman, if you choose to see it. I was arrested because I tried to pawn a sword that I conjured out of thin air and the store owner thought it was stolen because of the way I look and my lack of identification. The man I saved in the alley is my brother, Xamn. I’ve been searching for him for twelve hundred and fifty years. You want to know who’s behind the attack? His name is Zachary and I’m guessing he’s an immortal like me.”

“That is quite a story.”

“It’s not just a story. And what I told you is but a crystal of ice on the tip of the iceberg.”

“By the way, your brother’s name is Stewart Kasey, not Xamn. Why can’t you just conjure money if you need cash?”

“Anything I conjure has to be free of ownership. I can conjure money but I usually only get a dollar or two at a time, if that.”

“People lose wallets all the time.”

“Yes, but if the money is still in a wallet, it is still tied to the owner of the wallet, especially if the wallet has other items in it that belong to the person. And before you ask, conjuring gold and jewels is against the Immortal Laws of Magic. So, I conjure things I can sell.”

“You should try eBay.”

“Huh?”

“Nevermind. Immortal, huh? I’m supposed to believe the tree I just saw grow out of your hand was not just some hallucination induced by a lack of sleep and that you’re an immortal looking for your long, lost brother. That’s what you’re telling me? I suppose your dog is immortal, too?”

“Actually, yes. His name is Goose…”

Hearing his name, Goose barked a happy “Wauf!”

“…and he’s Xamn’s dog,” Wiz smiled as he continued. “Well, Stew’s dog, I guess, as the case may be now. I’m not sure what I can do to convince you that you’re not hallucinating. Would you like me to grow another tree out of my hand?”

“No, but you could make me a chai latte.”

“Chai? How about coffee? Much simpler. I’m not sure I know what all is in chai.” Wiz handed her a wooden cup, steaming with brown liquid.

“I was kidding.”

“Just so you know… conjured coffee isn’t as good as Starbucks,” he said with a wink. “A very slight tinny taste because it’s a mixture of a lot of different beans. That’s all.”

“All right. But what’s with the knife?”

“It flew out of one of the attacker’s hands. They left it behind and I picked it up. It’s got some markings on it. I wanted to try and figure out what those meant.”

“You realize… that if I let you go, I’m putting my job at risk. My partner already knows I was coming to the diner to talk to you and that waitress in there most likely saw me put you in cuffs. Am I supposed to say that I had the wrong guy?”

“I really don’t know what the right answer here is, Ms. Alderman. Could I ask one favor, though?”

“Letting you go isn’t enough? You need something else? Wow,” she said, chuckling. “Unbelievable.”

“I believe the dagger would be safest in your hands, but I do ask that you keep it to yourself and not turn it in as evidence. And when you get a chance, could you copy down those markings for me, please?”

“This is crazy. I’ll see what I can do. Put your hands up here so I can take the cuffs off.”

“Thank you, Detective. Can I have my bag back, though?”

“Oh, sure.” She took the dagger out of the bag, then got out and walked around to let Wiz out. “Can you give me a description of this Zachary?” she asked as she handed Wiz the bag.

“Well, it’s been more than a few years since I’ve seen him but he’s probably got dark hair. He’s about six feet tall, if I had to guess.”

“I don’t suppose you would know where I can replace him,” she asked after opening the door.

“I don’t,” Wiz said, getting out and standing up, “but… if you see or hear a raven, I’d be on the lookout.” He slung the strap of the messenger bag on his shoulder.

“A raven,” as soon as she said it, she felt the wires in her brain connecting. Sparks jumped and the motor revved. She went to shut the door but was startled when Goose, who was not yet out, protested. “I’m sorry.” She opened the door again and shut it once Goose was on the pavement.

“Yes. I heard the guys who attacked my brother say something about a Mr. Di Corvo.” Wiz pulled a leash from his pocket and attached it to Goose’s collar. “‘Di corvo’ is Portuguese for ‘the raven.’”

“This is so weird,” she said as she shook her head.

“I know. There’s a café across the street from Kristy’s. He was there right before the attack. You might want to ask the staff there if they remember seeing anyone strange on Friday.”

“How do you know that? I thought you said you haven’t seen him in a few years.”

“Let’s just say a friend of mine saw him.”

“A friend of yours. I don’t suppose I could speak to this friend.”

“I don’t think so. I’m sorry. Oh and detective… don’t say anything to Alex or Stew about what I told you. I had to tell you. I didn’t have a choice. I don’t think either of them is ready for this yet.”

“Yeah. I wasn’t either.” She paused and asked, “How do I get ahold of you?”

“You can call the diner. If I’m not there, I will be soon.”

“Okay, because once my brain gets done having an aneurysm, I’m going to have some questions. It’s a lot to spring on a girl all at once.”

“I expect you will,” Wiz said.

She turned towards the café down the street. “And Wiz…” she said before turning back to face him.

“Yeah…”

She looked at him with the eyes of a single mom, worried about her troublesome teenager, “Stay out of trouble.”

“You don’t have to worry about that.” Once she was out of earshot, he said aloud a wish to be carried on the wind, “Be safe, Detective.”

“I can’t believe you told her,” Regan said.

“I can’t believe you were so quiet. Like I said, I had no choice. It was either that or go to jail and I don’t think I could have escaped from jail as easily a second time within a week. Besides, I think it would be beneficial to have someone with her authority on our side.”

Regan’s hair turned from orange to red as she crossed her arms and clenched her jaw, jealous of this woman Wiz had entrusted with secrets she should not know.