Daughters of Men: Episode One
Sons of God: Season Two
You're reading Daughters of Men, the second season of the Sons of God series. This is Episode One.
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Season two picks up with Mae fleeing to the Windy City after making a deal with the mysterious and otherworldly entity she not so affectionately calls Ziggy, with Special Agent Chance Davies in hot pursuit. With only the ghost of her late husband to guide her — you know, the one she killed in self-defense before dumping his body and getting out of Dodge — she wastes no time making new enemies, and a precious few friends, as she works to untangle the web she’s gotten herself into and discovers just what, exactly, Ziggy wants her for.
Mae stared up at the towering buildings and gripped the steering wheel against the sense of vertigo they inspired. She was all turned around. Chicago was a giant maze, the biggest city she'd ever been to, and she couldn't even find the right street, let alone the right block. Finally, she gave up and found a parking garage where she could stash her car. Once she got over the shock of how much it cost just to park, she made her way to a nearby hotel to call a cab.
Two days of driving, punctuated with short naps at rest stops, left her punchy and wanting nothing so much as a stiff drink and a hot shower followed by a long sleep. But this looked like the kind of hotel that would insist on a credit card over cash, and besides, she didn’t want to risk oversleeping and missing her deadline. She was too antsy about what she’d find at her destination to be able to sleep, anyway.
She showed the cab driver the address on Ziggy’s card, and he took her to a rundown brick apartment building in a neighborhood that definitely hadn’t been selected for gentrification. She didn't like the looks of it, and double checked the address. It was definitely the right place. She only hoped she hadn't just been dropped off at another serial killer's lair.
Mae lugged her suitcase up the front steps and paused to examine a panel of call buttons next to the door. She looked for apartment 2B and pressed the button. No answer. With an aggravated sigh, she pressed it again. Still no answer, but this time the door clicked open. Warily, she stepped into a small foyer, with a staircase directly in front of her and a row of mailboxes to the right. Beyond the staircase was a row of apartments. She headed up the stairs.
Dingy floral carpeting and peeling wallpaper lined the second floor hallway, made all the more depressing under the harsh yellow flicker of fluorescent lights. It smelled heavily of must and faintly of urine. She could only hope the latter was due to an unruly pet and not one of the tenants. Either way, it didn't help her sense of unease as she passed 2A on her way to 2B. Neither did the elfin face she spotted watching her through a crack in the doorway of 2C on the other side of the hall. Mae barely had time to register the features of a young girl before the face disappeared and the door slammed shut.
Shrugging it off, Mae steeled herself and knocked on 2B. The door swung open, but no one greeted her. Mae peered inside. "Hello?"
"Welcome home, darlin'! Come on in."
Cringing, Mae stepped inside and found Wade leaning on the counter of a little kitchenette. She closed the door before asking, "What are you doing here?"
"Getting you settled in. Didn't want you thinking you were in the wrong place."
She deflated a little. "Settled in, huh?" She looked around the dingy apartment, with its basic furnishings that looked thoroughly used. She didn't even want to think about the stains on the couch. "This is where I'm supposed to stay?"
"What, you were expecting the Waldorf?"
She sighed and set her suitcase down. "I didn't know what to expect."
"Well, look on the bright side." Wade came toward her, passing right through the little breakfast bar that stood between them, reminding Mae that her husband was well and truly dead, in case she'd forgotten. Whether he was a ghost or a hallucination, she still hadn't made up her mind. Either way, he stood before her, dressed all in black like a young Johnny Cash, and folded his arms. "It beats three hots and a cot."
Ignoring his reminder of her fugitive status, she picked up her suitcase and brushed past him — careful not to pass through him. That would be too weird — toward a small hallway that led off of the main room on the other side of the kitchen. There she found three doors — one to a small bathroom, one to a closet, and one opening into a bedroom not much bigger than the closet. It was just big enough for the twin bed and prefab nightstand squeezed in beside it. The mattress was bare, and thankfully didn't look too stained. She laid the suitcase, which held all her worldly goods, on the bed and shrugged out of the puffy coat she'd picked up at a Walmart in Springfield. Tossing that on top of the suitcase, she went back into the living room, where Wade stood waiting.
"So now what?"
"Beats me. I guess you settle in and wait for your next assignment."
"You don't have one for me?"
"Nope. Maybe the powers that be decided you've earned a rest before they toss you into the pool. Gotta say, I agree." He peered at her through narrowed eyes. "You look like a wilting flower." She opened her mouth to tell him what he could do with his analogy, but he raised his hands to ward her off. "That's genuine concern. You look tired, that's all."
Mae closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. She was surprised not to have to move bangs out of the way, and remembered her new buzzcut. "I am tired. But I'm not sleeping on that bed until I get some sheets."
"Suit yourself." Wade shoved his hands in his pockets. "I'll get out of your hair and let you get on with it. I guess you won't see me again until you've got a job to do."
"Fine by me."
She ignored the hangdog look on his face as he started to fade. But then something occurred to her, and she called him back. "Wade, wait."
He became solid again. "What?"
"Were you the one who buzzed me in?"
He grinned. "Sure was."
"So you can move things."
His smile faded. "I just figured that out. I'm still learning how this works. It's not like anyone sat me down and went over how to be a spirit in the world of the living."
Mae eyed him warily. "Because if I find out you could have opened that cage—"
"If I could have, I would have. I swear it, darlin'."
She shook her head. "Stop calling me darlin'. Go on, get."
"Be seeing you. Mae." With that, he faded out of sight.
She took a deep breath, held it, then let it out slowly before inspecting the rest of the apartment. The couch in the small living room was flanked by two end tables, cheap like the one in the bedroom. The coffee table in front looked like it had probably been rescued from the curbside after someone with better sense and taste had thrown it out. Opposite the couch, a cable hookup sat ready and waiting for a TV to be attached. Mae supposed she ought to pick up a cheap one, if only to keep an eye on the news, and whether she was in it.
The third wall featured a wide window covered with cheap vertical blinds. Mae walked over to open them and look out. The window let out onto a fire escape overlooking a back alley, with an almost identical brick building across the way. Some kids were playing tag down below, dodging potholes and a pair of Dumpsters as they chased each other around.
She glanced at her Timex. It was not quite five o'clock, but the light was already starting to fade. She cracked open the window to let some fresh air in and then went to see the kitchen.
It was tiny but functional, with a small oven range and a refrigerator made to hold enough food for one person. It was empty, and so were the cabinets.
A large envelope lay on the counter next to a key, which she assumed went to the apartment. Mae opened the envelope and found a set of very convincing Illinois driver's licenses with her face framed by different hair colors, each under a different name. They came with five thousand dollars in stacks of fifties and hundreds. Mae peeled off a fifty and put it in her pocket, along with the ID that best matched her current look, then shoved the rest back in the envelope. It also contained a letter, typed and unsigned, explaining that the apartment and utilities were paid for and she could expect a similar envelope to show up in her mailbox once a month.
"Five grand a month seems like kind of a paltry price for a soul," she muttered, but kept scanning.
The letter also had an address, with instructions to go there the next evening, “where you’ll become equipped for the tasks before you.” Nice and vague. At least that would give her plenty of time to retrieve her car and do some shopping, in case she managed to survive whatever surprises lay in store for her this time.
Lastly, the envelope contained a burner phone. Smart enough to have Internet and GPS. She pulled up the map application and entered the address in the letter. It didn't identify the name of the place. The dot marking the location didn’t tell her much either, considering she knew bupkis about the city’s layout, but at least she could pull up turn-by-turn directions.
She holstered the phone in her back pocket and laid the letter on the counter, then went to unpack. Opening the closet to see if she would need to buy hangers, she found an assortment of wigs that matched her IDs. They looked like much better quality than the black one she’d been wearing. No hangers, though. With a sigh, she shoved the suitcase in the closet and considered her next steps.
She needed to eat. Surely she'd be able to find a grocery store or a takeout place within walking distance. She grabbed her coat, retrieved the key, and then headed back out, locking the door behind her.
A girl sat on the front stoop, her knees exposed through ripped jeans and drawn close to her chest. Small and waifish, her short, strawberry blonde waves were streaked with bright pink. Mae put her age somewhere between nine and thirteen. When she glanced up, Mae recognized the face that had peered out at her from the apartment across the hall.
She stopped halfway down the steps. "2C, right?"
The girl nodded, then returned her indifferent gaze to her knees and fiddled with the frayed denim.
"Do you know the closest place to get something to eat? Maybe some groceries?"
"There's a bodega a few blocks from here." The girl looked up. "I can show you."
"That's okay. If you can just give me directions--"
"It's easier if I show you." She unfolded herself and stood up. Standing on the same step, she came up to Mae's shoulders.
"Are you sure your mother won’t mind?"
"Pretty sure. She's dead."
Mae blinked. "Oh. I'm sorry."
She shrugged. "It happened when I was little. I live with my step-dad, and he's not home. But he won't care."
"Well, if you're sure." Mae held out her hand. "I'm M-- Ellen."
"That's not your name."
Mae's mouth dropped open. Before she could stammer out a reply, the girl took her hand. "I'm Delia."
A sharp frisson of recognition pulsed through Mae. Delia. That was what she'd considered naming her baby, if it had been a girl. And according to Ziggy, it had been. "How old are you?"
"Eleven. But I'll be twelve next March."
Mae didn't need to do the math. Not a day had gone by since her miscarriage that she wasn't keenly aware of how old her baby would have been had it lived. And it would have been Delia's age. Down to the month, if not the day. She felt disoriented. It couldn't be more than an uncanny coincidence, but she couldn't help recalling Ziggy's promise that she would reunite with her daughter if she took on this mission.
Chill out, Mae, she chided herself. This isn't your kid.
Oblivious to how unsettled she was, Delia skipped down the steps. "Come on. The store's this way."
Shaking her head, she followed the girl and jogged a little to catch up to her. They walked an entire block before Mae got up the nerve to ask, "What did you mean when you said that's not my name?"
"Nothing. I shouldn't have said it. Your name is your name." She pointed to a church building as they walked past. "That's a safe place, if you ever need one. Pastor Sue is good people."
"Don't change the subject. Why did you say that?"
Delia shrugged. "I don't know. I'm sorry. I know it was weird. I don't want you to think I'm weird."
Mae stopped walking and grabbed Delia gently by the arm. "I don't think you're weird. But I think this is important. I need to know why you said that."
Fidgeting, Delia looked at her shoes. "It's dumb. Sometimes I just know stuff."
"What kind of stuff?"
Again, she shrugged. "Just things. About people. About what will happen." She looked up at Mae, her bright green eyes pleading. "Please don't tell anyone. Especially my step-dad. He doesn't want people to know."
"I won't. I promise. Not if you don't tell anyone what you know about me."
"I won't. Not ever. Cross my heart and hope to die."
Mae patted her on the arm. "You don't have to go that far. Now come on. Show me that bodega."
The waitress nibbled her thumbnail as she scrutinized the photos Agent Chance Davies had spread out on the table before her. "Take your time," he said.
She shook her head. "I mean, this woman was skinnier, and she had black hair. Shoulder length." She held a hand at the level of her collar bone to illustrate. "She had on these big sunglasses, too. But what I could see of her face..." She tapped the blowup of Bishop's driver's license photo. "Yeah. I'm sure that's her."
Chance nodded and gathered up the photos. He glanced up from the table to look out at the diner, where local officers were interviewing the other employees. It was the late afternoon lull between the lunch and dinner rush, so there had been no issue with closing for a short time while they conducted their investigation.
He looked back to the waitress, whose name tag identified her as Sandra. "Can you recall anything else?"
She nodded. “She kept talking to herself. At first I thought she was on the phone, only I didn't see one. Couldn’t see any earphones, either."
"Did you hear anything she said?"
Sandra shook her head. "It gets real noisy in here when we're busy."
"Did you happen to see what she was driving?"
"No, sorry. I saw her go in the direction of the motel, though. I think she might have walked over from there."
Chance nodded. He'd already considered that possibility, and had officers checking out the motel. He forced a professional smile."Thank you, Sandra. You've been very helpful."
He hoped so, anyway. As certain as the woman was about recognizing the fugitive —certain enough to call the police — she could be mistaken. Even if she wasn't, five hours had passed since Bishop had been seen dining there. If she'd gotten back on the road right away, she could be in another state already. As Sandra returned to her work, Chance tucked the photos inside his sport jacket and climbed out of the booth. Leaving the other officers to their interviews, he exited the diner and made for the motel.
A state investigator, Ethan Blankenship, met him in the parking lot. "A woman with dark hair checked in yesterday morning under the name Ellen Knight. Maid service had already cleaned out the room."
“Did you search the trash?”
Blankenship shook his head. “It was picked up by the county service at noon. They emptied the diner’s bin, too.”
Chance caught himself grinding his teeth. He moved his head from side to side, stretching his neck and forcing his jaw to relax. "Anybody see what she was driving?"
"Negative. She parked out of sight when she checked in. She'd requested a room in the back, away from the street. It's a slow season, so the only other guests were street side. None of them saw her."
Chance rubbed his aching jaw. "Good work." With a sigh, he turned to scan the environs. There were two access points to the motel parking lot, one from the diner next door, and the other from the street. Diner parking let out into the same street. A large gas station sat across the way, with cameras mounted in the ceiling of the canopy covering the pumps. Chance jerked his chin toward them. "Get someone over there and see if those cameras caught her. We know when she arrived, so start there and see if you can ID her vehicle. Then try to see when she left."
"On it."
As Blankenship headed across the street, Chance took out his phone and thumbed the speed dial for his home office to update Bishop’s description and known alias for the FBI database.
When he finished, he pocketed the phone and looked up at the sky. “I could use a little help with this one.” He felt a twinge of guilt as he asked, knowing it had been weeks since he’d been to church or even taken a day off, thanks to this investigation. So much for remembering the Sabbath. “The sooner I can wrap this up, the sooner I can get back to my routine,” he pointed out. The silence that met him told him that it was a poor excuse. “Yeah, I know. I’ll repent after I arrest her.”
He took his phone back out and looked with longing at his lock screen. His spiritual life wasn’t the only thing he’d been neglecting. He’d missed his weekend visitations with his little girl, a fact that undoubtedly strengthened his ex-wife’s conviction that she was right to leave him for emotional neglect. And she was. His tendency to become obsessed with his work had destroyed his marriage, and if he wasn’t careful it would estrange him from his kid. But her eighth birthday was coming up, and he’d promised to make it all up to her with a trip to Silver Dollar City.
He didn’t care how close he was to apprehending Bishop. Nothing short of death, dismemberment or the apocalypse would keep him from keeping that date with his daughter.
The phone buzzed in his hand as a text bubble popped up. Blankenship had the security footage ready to view. Chance looked up with a smile. “Thanks.” Slipping the phone back in his pocket, he dashed across the street.
Blankenship met him at the door to the gas station. “Manager’s cueing up the video in her office. We’ve got time to grab some coffee.”
“No thanks. Which way’s the office?”
He pointed toward a hallway that led past the restrooms into the back of the store. Chance navigated around a harried young woman coming out of the women’s room with two small children and almost tripped over an employee pushing a mop bucket.
“Are you lost?”
“I’m looking for the manager’s office.”
The employee pointed to an open door next to a row of employee lockers. “Thanks,” Chance muttered, already moving toward the door. When he reached it, he found an older woman with short-cropped silver hair in a gas station uniform seated at the desk, frowning at a laptop. He rapped on the door, getting her to look up. “You the manager?”
“Yes.”
He pulled out his ID and held it up. “Special Agent Davies. My colleague said you’ve got security footage of the hotel parking lot across the street.”
“I do, but I don’t know how much it will help you. It’s all messed up.”
“What do you mean?”
Shaking her head in bewilderment, she waved a hand bedecked with silver and turquoise rings and inch-long pink nails toward the screen. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen it do this before.”
Chance moved around the desk. “May I?”
She stood up. “Be my guest.”
He sat down and leaned in for a good look at the screen. The video was paused on a clear black and white shot of the busy street and the motel parking lot on the other side, with a timestamp that placed it at about fifteen minutes before Bishop signed in. Chance played the video and sped it up. As he sat back to watch, Blankenship entered the office with a styrofoam cup of coffee and came to stand behind him.
“Anything yet?”
“I just started.”
They both watched as cars sped by in the street, none of them turning into the motel lot. Then the screen glitched for a second, and the timestamp jumped ahead by two minutes.
“Whoa, what was that?” asked Blankenship.
Chance stopped the video and backed it up to the second before the glitch. The timestamp showed a few minutes prior to Bishop’s check-in time. Slowing the video down, he played it frame by frame. Everything looked normal, and then suddenly the bottom half of the screen became distorted for a few frames before the entire screen went black. A few frames later, the picture returned to normal and the timestamp showed that two minutes had gone by.
“That’s what I was talking about,” said the manager. “It’s the craziest thing. I have no idea what caused it.”
“Interesting timing,” said Blankenship. “You think she had some kind of jammer?”
“It’s looking that way,” said Chance, although he’d never encountered a signal jammer that could do that to camera footage. “I’ll send it to the lab. Maybe they’ll be able to clear up the image.”
“What about when she left? We can see which cars left the lot after the lunch hour.”
Chance glanced up at the manager. “Is today’s footage on the same video?”
“No, it’s a different file. Here, let me.” She leaned past him and pulled up another video. “There.”
Chance moved it forward to the time his witness said Bishop had left the diner, and set it to play at four-times normal speed. Despite the monotonous subject matter, he and Blankenship sat riveted as they watched the screen. After a little more than an hour’s worth of recording sped by, another glitch blanked the screen out for a split second.
“Whoa,” said Blankenship as Chance stopped the video and backed it up. He slowed it down and played it again, revealing the same anomaly as before.
“That rules out coincidence.” Chance stood up and pointed at the computer. “Can we get copies of these?”
“Sure,” said the manager. “If you think they’ll help.”
While she spoke, Blankenship produced a thumb drive from his pocket. “I’m on it.”
Chance moved out of his way. “I want these sent for analysis. I want to know what kind of tech she has that can do this.” Without waiting for an affirmative, he stormed out of the office and out of the store.
Outside, he cast a reproachful glance toward the sky, but kept from voicing his frustration. One step forward, two back. He felt no closer to Bishop than he did after she had eluded him at the cabin. Clearly, there was more to this woman than the housewife she was purported to have been. Either that, or she had help.
“Which is more than I seem to have,” he muttered as he made his way back across the street.
Next week: Mae visits the address in the letter and gains some more pieces to the Ziggy puzzle. She also learns there are strange things afoot in apartment 2C, and has an encounter with Pastor Sue.
Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this week’s episode, please let me know with a like, comment, restack or share.
OMG the main character in my latest novella is named Mae!!! haha nice 🤘