Then she turned her head back and forth in a gesture that said no. And when he reached for her again, she was gone. Diane was gone.
When Jack woke up, the cat was still cradled in his arms. He had slept well. He felt refreshed. He got up and walked over to the picnic table, where he had left his back pack. The cat woke up, stretched itself, and sidled up beside him, rubbing itself against his leg, as he retrieved some toiletries from his bag. He took a few chips from the bag, and fed them to the cat, who purred gratefully.
Then he went to the bathroom, with the cat following. He peed, washed up, brushed his teeth, then headed back to the picnic table. He put his back pack on and set off for work. The cat followed for about twenty yards, then stopped, leaving him to go the rest of the way by himself. Jack hoped he would see the cat again tonight. He liked the feel of it against his bosom as he lay on the bench. They were just two strays who had found each other. Brought together by circumstances. He would have to give it a name and, eventually, a home. But first things first. And the first order of business now was to get to work and meet the girl of his dreams.
6
Kanye Balewa pulled his red Ford Sedan into the parking lot of the Red Robin motel off of route 9 in the town of Silverton, Illinois. It was a small motel, just one level, comprised of a row of about ten rooms, with an adjoining office off to the left. He got out of the car, retrieved a suitcase from the trunk, and went into the office. Behind the counter stood a studious looking young man with thinning hair and bifocals. The man said in a friendly voice “Hello sir, can I help you?”
“I need a room,” Kanye said, smiling. His pearly white teeth were a stark contrast with his black face. “Right away, sir,” the man said. He had Kanye sign in and pay, then he grabbed a key from a wall with a set of keys on it, each one on its own separate hook. “You’ll be in room ten,” he said, handing Kanye the key. Kanye took the key, left the office, and strolled down the row of rooms until he reached the last one—number ten. He let himself in.
It was a nice enough room: a bed opposite a dresser with a TV on it, a desk in the corner with a mini-fridge next to it, two nightstands on either side of the bed, and a closet just off the entrance. The bathroom was next to the closet. He put his suitcase on the bed and unzipped it. He took out some toiletries, and put them in the bathroom, then zipped up the suitcase, and put it in the closet. Then he kicked off his shoes, and laid down on the bed, his head propped up against the headboard.
This was not where he wanted to be right now. It was not what he wanted to be doing with his life. He was not a killer; he was a priest. But what did that even mean anymore? Did it ever mean anything? At first it did. He was a priest, a real priest at first. He knew who He was serving, and he was proud to serve Him.
And then, slowly, things began to change. The secret meetings, the private instructions, the things whispered in the dark by people who, officially, did not exist, about things that, officially, were not even real. But even through all of that he thought he knew whose side he was on. And even after he was told to kill Adam—even then he still believed he was serving God, and that his mission was to kill the anti-Christ. He was so blind! He realized now that’s why they chose him. They wanted someone they could fool, someone blinded by their ideals, someone so zealous for good, so committed to the church, and all it stood for, that they would not ask questions; they would not doubt.
But the doubt crept in. Gradually. That was the key word. The unseemly things of a religion—any religion—were revealed gradually, and only to a few. And by the time those few knew the truth, they were a part of the lie; they were invested in it; complicit, and that made it hard to back out, or to even want to back out, for that meant incurring the wrath of a system they could not possibly defeat, along with giving up their livelihood. It was easier just to believe what they told you and go along with the program.
But he knew. He knew who he was serving, who the entire Christian church was serving. At best, it was a thinly veiled secret among the church hierarchy, although those on the lower rungs would be shocked to know.
7
Jack said good bye to the cat and started making his way down the narrow gravel path that lead to Main Street. The cat followed him for the first few yards, then stopped, sat down, and watched him go. He hoped it would still be there when he got back. He had grown fond of the little critter.
He turned onto Main Street and continued his trek, his mind a restless pool of nervous anticipation. Main Street was coming alive; the streets were filling with cars, the sidewalks with pedestrians shuffling along to their appointed tasks; merchants were busy opening shop, unlocking the doors, putting the open signs in the windows, preparing for the morning onslaught. Here and there people passed with their dogs, sniffing around at the end of their leashes for the best place to relieve themselves. A middle-aged woman with a Scottish Terrier gave him a big smile as the creature pulled her along the sidewalk. He smiled back. He had a lot to smile about today.
He crossed the railroad tracks onto Old Hook Road, made a left, and stopped at the sprawling edifice that was Manus Manufacturing. He checked his watch. Three minutes to nine. Right on time, if he hurried. He didn’t want to be late for his second day at work. He walked briskly through the lot, through the doors, and to the elevator. He pressed 3, waited, then got off, heading straight for the punch clock. He made it by seconds. He dumped off his back pack in the locker area and arrived at his station at about one minute after nine. Kurt was already there, a slight smile on his face. He took his place next to the older man and took up where he left off yesterday, slinging filters onto the conveyor belt. “Congratulations,” Kurt said, “You made it to your second day. A lot of people don’t.”
“It’s not that bad,” Jack replied. “Just boring and hot.” As he spoke, he was looking several rows up, at the spot she had been yesterday. She had not arrived yet. “Yep,” Kurt said. “Boring and hot.”
For the next half hour, he made small talk with Kurt. He learned that Kurt had spent ten years in the merchant marine, then another thirty as a truck driver, until he lost his eye in a boating accident and had to retire. That, and a run of bad luck and some health issues, is how he ultimately wound up working in a sweat shop in a two-horse town for nine bucks an hour. Kurt finished his story by saying “It’s not as good as your story, but it is what it is”, to which Jack laughed heartily, and said nothing.
By that time, he was getting nervous. Eve had still not arrived. He had begun to wonder if perhaps she had quit. Maybe he just happened to catch her on her last day and would never see her again. Except, of course, in his dreams. The thought made his heart sink. Or what if she had gone on vacation? How would he even know? He didn’t know her name; he couldn’t ask anyone about her. Maybe he would have to come here every day for the next week or two, stand there all day slinging filters, and wait for her to return from Cancun or the Caribbean or wherever else she might be.
And then another thought, equally horrible, occurred to him. What if she had a boyfriend? Or a husband? She was pretty, and usually pretty girls did have boyfriends or husbands. How could it be that this hadn’t occurred to him? Because he was drunk, that’s why! Drunk with this stupid, childish idea that he had just discovered the woman of his dreams—literally—and that he and this woman were destined to go on a great journey together. Other than the voices in his head, some dumb-assed dreams, and a psycho who was always trying to kill him, what reason did he have for believing any of that? None. None at all.
And yet he did believe it. At least he thought he did. One thing he did know: he knew this girl. In his dreams, they made a deep connection—a connection of body, mind, and soul. He knew her, and he loved her. And now that he knew she actually existed he could not imagine the hurt he would feel to find out that she might never love him back. If that were so, he thought that maybe he would
