Diary of The Returned
Dear R.E.T.U.R.N.,
It was shortly after lunch when he arrived. Jacob's men greeted him outside. They exchanged a few abrupt words and searched him. His men at the preacher's gesture stood back and remained where they were. One escorted him up to the front door, but he did not walk inside. The only ones in the house were Jacob, Jenny, Marty, and I, and he walked into the family room, greeting us as friends not enemies. But he was no friend.
"Preacher James!" Marty wanted to run to him, but Jenny held him back. "He's my friend."
"He's not," but Jenny could not hold on to him.
Marty raced into the preacher's open arms. It sickened Jenny to watch the preacher hug and kiss him. He met her gaze, and then the preacher gently pushed Marty back toward her. He smiled at her, but she did not return his smile. "I do not mean the boy harm, Jenny."
"No? You know why he is a boy, preacher." Jenny glanced down at Marty. "Come on, Marty. Let's go upstairs," and she stormed out of the family room. "You should come to," she said to me.
"She should stay," the preacher said. "You both know why." Jacob and Jenny exchanged looks. "She doesn't know?" Now, he looked at me. "You're not going to tell her?"
I hated the secrets, the not knowing. I realized then and there that they treated me like glass. They were afraid that I was going to break or cut them or both. Why would they see me as that, and what happened to Marty? "I hate the secrets," I said. "Will someone please tell me what the hell is going on!"
"You're part of the tree."
"Preacher!"
"Jacob. She should know."
"What tree," I asked.
"This one," and the preacher lifted up the back of his shirt. "This tree represents bloodlines. Bloodlines from Arcadia."
"You're saying that I am from here?"
"You are." He looked puzzled. "You don't know that. Jacob, can I have a glass of water?"
"You think you are a guest here? Don't you remember the last time you stepped foot in my house?"
"I remember." The preacher was not sure to step closer to Jacob or not. "I was right, though. If you and your family had just backed down, none of this would be happening right now, and we would not be here as this."
"As what?"
"Enemies, Jacob. I am not your enemy." Now, he approached him. "I was never your enemy. I was trying to save you."
"What happened to your back?" They now looked at me. "There was an ugly gash on one of those limbs."
"Yeah. That would be from Marty before I…"
"Tell her. Tell her what you did."
"I brought him back, Jacob."
"As a boy, preacher."
"What? Just tell me!"
"Before I killed Marty. I was in prison. I got out. He tracked me down. We went at it, and I killed him."
"You make it sound like an accident."
"No, Jacob. Marty had to pay for his penance, for betraying me."
"He has a wife. He has kids! You should have brought him back as a man!"
"Wait a minute. That boy upstairs is a man? He's the Marty that I hear about?"
"He chose that age. I didn't, and I tried to bring your parents back. I tried."
"Don't." Jacob moved away from him. He wanted to hit him. He wanted to hit him hard. "Don't you dare."
"They wouldn't come back with me."
"Do you blame them?"
"No. I guess I can't, but Marty? He chose to return at that age. I don't know why."
"You know what, preacher? We don't need you."
"That gash on your back?"
"What about it? What about the damn gash?" I winced at Jacob's tone now. "What about it?"
"Whose bloodline did Marty cut?"
"Oh, and there in lies the truth." Jacob now glared at him. "I swear that God led Marty's hand himself to that limb, that limb, that bloodline that belonged to Rachel and Nathaniel. Do we know if Rachel is even still alive?"
"I still feel her."
"Of course, you do, Jacob. Of course, you do. Nathaniel might be evil, but even he would not kill his own mother." The preacher fell silent for a moment. "What about Marty's wife and children? Where are they? I don't think they're here in Arcadia?"
"You looking for them, preacher?"
"I'm just curious, Jacob."
"They're safe."
"Oh, I see. They're with that government lady. The same lady that was protecting Jenny in that facility."
"Don't provoke me, preacher."
"I'm not."
"You're gloating."
"And why would I be gloating, Jacob?"
"Because you're right."
"I'm going to leave," I said.
"Stay," they both snapped, so I sat down on a couch nearby, wishing that I could crawl away into nothing.
"What was I right about, Jacob?"
"I hate you."
"I was right."
"I wish that you weren't, and in the beginning, you weren't."
"Right. The beginning. Six years. Six good years, and then BAM." He slapped his hands together, hard, and I even jumped. "All down hill for the next ten. You should have let me kill him. I hated the idea of making Rachel disappear, but that second time? I was close, and we could have saved lives."
"Marty stopped you."
"Marty is a kid now. You're the man, Jacob, so what are you going to do? You going to accept my help because once I walk out that door, I'm not coming back. You're on your own."
"Maybe, we're better off."
"Look at me, Jacob. I haven't aged a day since I first returned. Why do you think that is?"
"I don't care."
"Yes. Yes, you do, and you know that. You know that I know certain things. I can do certain things. After all this time, I am prepared for the final battle. Are you? Is she? The fate of the world rests in our hands, and the final battle is almost here. Are you ready now to stand beside me?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"We all have a choice, so make it." He held his hand out to him. "Decide, Jacob. Decide now."
"After all you've done."
"The past, Jacob, is the past. This is the future." Jacob started to reach for his hand. "Trust me." He pulled his hand away. "Jacob, don't."
"Get out. Get out of my house. Now!"
"You're making a mistake. You're going to sacrifice everyone. You're just like him."
"Why don't you say his name, preacher? Say his name!"
"Fine, Jacob. You're just like Marty, and you too will pay for your penance."
"Fine. Now, get out."
"He can't." The blind woman entered the room. She had been hiding herself for a long time, but now she made her presence known. "You need him, Jacob. Put the past aside."
"How long have you been listening?"
"Long enough."
"I'm not trusting him with our lives."
"You don't have a choice." She pulled her glasses off. Her eyes were nothing more than white orbs, and they seemed to even flash white. "He's coming, and we need him. We need everyone."
"Who are you?"
"You know who I am, Preacher James." He seemed nervous, swallowing hard. "Time to put your differences aside, boys. It's time."
"Time for what," Jacob asked.
"War. War is coming to Arcadia, and Nathaniel is coming home."