DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE - TWWW part 8

“It was much pleasanter at home when one wasn’t
always growing larger and smaller and being
ordered about by mice and rabbits.”
Alice from Alice in Wonderland

Morris hadn’t been to the Weinguard Clinic in years. He was surprised it was still there. He was surprised this is where is appointment was. The false front of the Weinguard as a free clinic and medical learning facility was still intact. What was not so well known was the clinics history of being a medical test sight. 40 percent of new pharmaceutical drugs for the U.S. went through the Weinguard.

Not much was done to improve the look of it. The clinic still looked like a government run facility. It had its original paint job; parts of the stucco had worn away revealing the gray concrete underneath. The walkway was garnished by alternate patches of grass and dirt; there were weeds where flowers should have been and the ‘I’ and ‘U’ in the signage was washed away. The inside looked no better; multi colored chairs, indoor/outdoor stained carpet and magazines dating back to 1999.

There was a man sitting in the farthest corner of the waiting room. Morris figured him for an agent; he looked out of place for the neighborhood. He was a little too well dressed, a little too proper. He probably has a gun in his waistband toward the back because the bulk in his breast pocket would have brought unwanted attention. Not many free clinics had need for guards.

The undercover agent looked towards the receptionist who gave him a quick nod. She gave Morris the same nod when he showed her his id badge. She leaned her head to the left, giving Morris the ok to walk through the double doors. “The double doors of death”, Morris laughed to himself. He ran his hand over the scanner and the doors automatically opened.

This part of the clinic was where the money was spent; long white pristine hallways, lots of natural light from the skylights built into the ceiling. Another receptionist, this one talked. Dr. Rogers’s office was all the way down the end of the hallway, first door on the right. Morris took a deep breath.

*****************************************************************************

The girl was already waiting in the room. She was clutching the tissue gown; trying to close it in the front as much as she could. She sat on the edge of the examination table and looked like she would rather be anywhere but here. Bonnie picked up the chart. “Danielle?” she said.

The girl smiled slightly. She was black, early 20’s and single with only a high school education. She worked fulltime at a hotel, but still living below the poverty level.

“Danielle, did the counselor discuss all the options with you?”

Danielle nodded and shrugged her shoulders at the same time. Bonnie took it to mean not really. Bonnie wanted to ask more questions, to sit with Danielle and find out what she really wanted, but she was not allowed. It was the job of the counselors to have the specific discussions with the girls. Once they reached this point, the only question for Bonnie to ask was local or sedation. Bonnie preferred sedation. She couldn’t take the questions or having to explain everything she was doing. With the local, they couldn’t feel anything, but the view of the instruments on the tray was enough to cause them to fidget and cry. “…That goes in where?”

The assisting nurse stood quietly nearby with her hands tightly clasped together. Bonnie learned the way of gentle persuasion in her question. “So you’ll be taking anesthesia sedation, correct?” Danielle nodded.

“I see you’re 12 weeks.”

Danielle nodded again.

“Alright. Lay back dear and put your feet in the stir-ups. Scooch yourself down to the edge of the table. Danielle obliged. The nurse inserted the iv.

Bonnie said. “Count backwards from 100.” A lone tear ran down Danielle’s temple.

“You alright dear?”

Danielle said, “Yes. Just nervous.”

“No need for that. I’ve done many of these. Just count backwards and when you wake up, you’ll be done.

Danielle started, “100, 99, 98”…by 85 she was out.

Bonnie had done many of these. Actually the many was an understatement, more like hundreds. She thought about it; hundreds might be an understatement too. The nurse was waiting for her to begin. Bonnie was usually good at hiding her signs of stress, but it was getting harder.

She dilated the cervix. Then she inserted a plastic tube, through the cervix into the uterus. Bonnie developed the recent habit of pausing before turning on the machine. She hated the noise it made; like vacuuming between the seat cushions on her couch. It was such a violent noise for such a delicate part of the body. Then came the sound of the tissue, as they were supposed to refer to it, being torn away from the uterine wall. Bonnie knew of nothing to liken to that sound. It was unlike anything she had ever heard in her life.

From there the tissue was forced down the tube into a canister, which would be marked as biohazard waste material and then, as reported for public knowledge, disposed of. However the government could not let such valuable material go to waste. The canisters were marked with the necessary information of the donor. The contents were either used for experiments or for various medical tests. The overages were frozen until a later date.

The procedure took a little over 10 minutes. The assisting nurse took the material and the tray of instruments. Bonnie pulled off her gloves. “Danielle…Danielle,” she said gently shaking off the effects of the anesthesia. Bonnie lightly hit Danielle’s cheeks. She moaned. Danielle moved her mouth around as if she was saying something, but her vocal cords hadn’t caught up. Her eyes opened and met with Bonnie’s.

“It’s done dear. It’ll take a few moments before you wake up completely. The nurse will be back to help you.”

Bonnie walked into the scrub room. She washed her hands and splashed cold water on her face. She glanced at her schedule for the day, she had 10 more. As Danielle was wheeled into one room to wake up, get dressed and go on with her life; another was going to be told to change into the tissue gown, sit on the examination table and wait. The doctor will be with you shortly.

All Bonnie wanted to do was grab her keys and run for the door. She didn’t know how much more she could take. This job wasn’t what she thought it would be. She knew she wanted off of special ops; the hours, the secrecy, the work itself and she just wasn’t feeling well. She cursed herself for getting the implants. Her doctors told her it might be something else, what…they didn’t know. After she finally got them removed she felt like she was getting better, until the vaccination mandate. She had to take it. They all did. It was required of all medical personnel working on the desert site. But there were rumors. Talk of the radiation in the equipment they were surrounded by. She treated some of the soldiers for blood in the urine. She figured it was from venereal disease, but they insisted they had always used condoms, or either they hadn’t been with anyone in a while. Bonnie didn’t believe them. She figured their denial was out of embarrassment. Now she wondered. They closed the base; no explanations and within 24 hours of the announcement. She still worked with the same core staff, including Stacey, in another location. But now as she thought of it more, they all were feeling a little out of it.

Bonnie couldn’t do another abortion, not today – maybe not ever. She walked out of the scrub room and towards the head doctor, Dr. Hutton’s office. She hadn’t figured out exactly what she was going to say, but she believed…she hoped the words would come.

*****************************************************************************

“Morris” he stopped and looked behind him.

“Yes.” He looked over the woman carefully. “You worked with Stacey, my wife”. He stopped himself. Did she know? He ran her name, Bonnie Dexter, through his mind. She was one of few friends he met of Stacey’s. He met her when he ran into them at a shopping mall. He was buying a ‘just because’ gift for Stacey. He lied and told them he was looking for work shirts. All three of them stopped and had coffee together. He hadn’t seen Stacey laughing with a girlfriend for a long time, probably not since their wedding. He thought Bonnie was a little superficial, but sweet. But was her name on the email list. This would be an awful way to break the news… ‘By the way did you know Stacey, the love of my life, and your friend has died.’

“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to call and offer my condolences and see how you’re doing,” Bonnie said.

Morris released an internal sigh of relief.

“I’ll be at the service tomorrow,” she continued.

“No, that’ll be fine. I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you at first…” Morris realized why. She was a few cup sizes smaller than he remembered. He was staring. She noticed.

“I had them down sized. They were for years, and then…I don’t know what happened. They started reacting negatively with my immune system.”

“I’m so sorry for looking…It was…”

“No apology needed,” she said. “I use to make sure they were the first thing people noticed about me. When I think about it now, it was actually very silly.”

“How long ago did you get them removed?”

“A few months ago.”

“Bonnie, did you get the vaccine?”

“Yes, about 9 or so months ago. It was required for work. The whole team was given appointments alphabetically.

Morris could see it clearly; the darkness creeping underneath and around her eyes. It would grow as time went on. The shine was gone from her hair and he could see the veins pulsing in her neck through her skin. He had seen it work on paper and to an extent in some case studies, but never in person. The body would get over reactive and anything artificial would be seen as an enemy. He moved closer to Bonnie lowered his voice so only she could hear him.

“What were you and Stacey working on?” he asked.

Bonnie blinked. Her reflexes were already slowing down: her lids closed and it was several seconds before they opened again. She was in her 30’s. In an ordinary situation she should be called a healthy white female; however, she was taking on the characteristics of someone twice her age.

If the whole team was required to get the vaccine, it was because of the mission itself. Perhaps too many liabilities running around he thought.

“Morris, we’re not supposed to talk about our missions. You know that?”

“I know, but I’m asking anyway.”

Bonnie smiled; not a real one. It was one for the benefit of the doctors and nurses passing by. “I’ll call you tonight,” she said touching his forearm. Then she turned and disappeared down the hallway.

******************************************************************************

Where do most black folks go in hard times? Church. Barry and Lynn pulled up into the empty parking lot of The Tabernacle. Though it was Thursday, Pastor Lincoln Wilde liked to keep the doors open from sun up to midnight. ‘Jesus doesn’t follow a schedule and neither do I’ he’d like to say. It was a catholic church when he purchased it. It had a few offices and living quarters. The pastor had lived there for the past 15 years. One only had to walk around the back and walk up the stairs and ring the bell. Pastor Wilde would always greet with “How may I serve you?” He never married; instead he devoted his time to God and his congregation.

People were welcome to come in and get prayer; to talk, to cry or to sit still and just be with God. The Tabernacle had weathered white walls and purple velvet covered pews. The windows were stained glass with the expected religious motifs left over from its previous life. The organ, dusted but un-played, rested in the corner at the front of the church. They kept it for scenery and the fact of the cost to remove it would be great. The wood work was in perfect condition. There were always a few young volunteers to help Pastor polish and keep it looking new.

The church also had a small bell tower. The actual bell was removed. The neighbors complained about the noise it would make every time the wind blew. Weekly visits from the gardener kept the grounds beautifully landscaped and stone benches were placed randomly every few feet. The Tabernacle was as magical as a church could get without looking creepy.

Pastor Wilde was sitting in the front pew reading the Bible. His lips were silently moving as his fingers skimmed the words across the page. There was a Hispanic woman sitting with her son on one of the pews in the back. She looked visibly upset. Barry and Lynn exchanged polite smiles with her. She had been crying. Her son was obliviously playing with his toy cars in the pew in front of her.

Barry and Lynn poked at each other to see who would speak up first. PastorWilde saw them; he put the book down and smiled. “Look who’s here. How have you two been?” He stood up to greet them with open arms. He still had the same kind brown eyes. His salt and pepper hair was a little more salt then they remembered and the mustache which framed his mouth, was now completely gray.

It had been 2 years, or maybe it was 3 or 4, since they had been to church. At first Barry and Lynn told themselves it was because of remodeling the house; then it was because of Barry’s work. For him to move up in the company meant; Sunday golf games, Sunday family barbeques at the boss’s house and a whole new set of friends. Not much need or time for religion in that life.

“I know it’s been a while since my last confession,” Barry joked.

Pastor Wilde laughed. “No need for confession, lets just talk.”

“Well Pastor”, Lynn started. “We feel bad it’s been so long since we’ve come to church and now here we are, asking for help.”

“Well, how can I help?”

“Barry lost his job, and they…the government seized my business. We lost our home and we…” Lynn trailed off. Tears were storing in the corners of her eyes and she struggled to find the words to continue. She hadn’t cried before. The whole process of losing everything left her in shock. As she stood before the Pastor to tell him what happened, it all began to hit her. She lost it. Pastor Wilde got the tissue box behind the pulpit. “No I’m fine,” she said. Barry tried to stroke her back. Her shoulder recoiled from his touch. She wanted to get through this.

“We’re trying to get to my parents up north. We have no money and we need some gas. Barry forgot to fill up the car.”

Pastor Wilde frowned. “Don’t tell me you two have gotten into the whole conspiracy thing about the chip?

“We didn’t lose our home over a conspiracy. Pastor are you chipped?”

“Yes of course,” Pastor Wilde answered. “It’s not a big deal. Look,” he said motioning his hand to the front of the church, at the wall behind his podium. “The cross is still up. I still give my sermons from the Bible. A group of church leaders met with the government officials and they assured us this is not a religious thing. It has nothing to do with God or Jesus or the Devil,” he said with a laugh. “It’s technology. It’s a new way of living. Back in the day people thought tv and radio were the work of the devil too. You two are worried over nothing. I got mine several months ago and I have been encouraging the congregation to do the same.”

Both Barry and Lynne were shocked. This is the man who married them 7 years ago. How could someone so in the word be so deceived?

“Stop this foolishness.” Pastor Wilde said. “You and that poor girl back there with her son. Let me just make a phone call and have someone come out. You’ll be set up and in no time and then all of you can get back to your lives.” He pulled out his phone and called information to find the closes facility. Lynn abruptly pulled the phone out of Pastor Wilde’s hand.

“I can’t believe you think this is ok,” Lynn said trying to keep her voice down. “It states very clearly in the word…” Barry would have usually cut her off: her attitude often went unappreciated, but today he liked it very much.

“Don’t tell me what the word states. I read the word everyday. When was the last time you opened the book?” Pastor Wilde fired back. Barry cut in, “We didn’t come here to argue. However we got in this position, we still need your help. We need some gas to get to Lynn’s parents.”

That seemed to snap both Lynne and Pastor back to what was important. “You’re right. Lynn, that was very judgmental of me. You came to me for help and I’m gonna help you. This has already caused enough division in the church. I’ve already lost so much of my congregation. So many people like you, have lost their jobs, homes…everything. But it’s just not necessary. Get chipped and go back to the life you two have worked so hard for. There is no devil here; it’s just technology.”

“What about her?” Lynn asked motioning to the woman in the back with her son.

“That’s Ramona and her son Joseph. He’s seven; a sweet boy. They’d been members here for a few years. She’s in the same situation. She refused to get chipped; lost her job…savings…her apartment…” He sighed.
“Where’s the father?” Lynn asked.

“They’re no longer together. He hasn’t seen the boy in awhile.

“So I guess she was on her own anyway. What’s her plan?”

“Lynn!” Barry interrupted.

“What? She has a kid. Is she going to take him on the road with her? I just don’t think it’s responsible of her.”
Barry and Lynn couldn’t have children. More specifically, Lynn couldn’t have children. Or maybe, as Barry thought most in moments like this; Lynn didn’t want to have children. Barry was never clear on which it was. His resentment toward her hadn’t surfaced in a while. He often forgot it was there until it showed up.

He didn’t blame her for being infertile; that would be wrong. It was the sinking feeling she didn’t want kids at all and that he was suffering alone.

***********************************************************************

Dr. Rogers didn’t do any picking or prodding. There was no stripping below the waist and sitting bare assed on tissue paper. There was no turning to the left to cough; just a lot of questions.

What were Morris’ sleeping habits? His work hours. What did his meals consist of? Morris wondered why he had to come. It was as if Dr. Rogers was going through the formalities of an actual medical examination. He wrote on the clipboard in his lap. His right hand moving around as he seemed made check marks here and scribble a little there. Morris wondered if the doctor, in reality, was doing his grocery list or perhaps making lottery number picks.

“When was the last time you had a bowel movement?” Morris replied “2 weeks ago.” He wanted to see if the doctor flinched; maybe let out a gasp. He did neither. He only scribbled a few more things and said “Ah huh. Ok.” He nodded and moved on to the next question.

“What’s your mood been for the past few days or weeks and have your have your moods been consistent?”

“Well, Dr. Rogers; my wife died recently and I have been fantasizing about putting a gun in my mouth and pulling the trigger.”

“Uh Huh.”

“Dr. Rogers, why am I getting this vaccination on Sunday? Is the office regularly open on Sunday?”

The doctor replied, “I am flying out that night and will be gone for the next week. I’m working Sunday to meet with a few patients including you.”

“And this couldn’t wait until you got back…I mean it’s only a week.”

“A week is a safe guess, it could be longer. Besides the other people in your department have already been vaccinated. Your boss just wants it’s taken care of. Can you please be sure to park in the back and use the rear entrance? – 7p.m.”

Morris wondered if he maybe he should suggest the doctor swing by the funeral to give him his shot. It would save on time.

Morris stopped at the grocery store on the way home. There was no food in the house and he knew expected food at the wake. The funeral director asked him if he wanted Stacey’s body to be transported home one last time. Morris thought Stacey had moved around enough. It was time for her to be truly at peace.

Stacey usually did the shopping. He knew enough to get a shopping cart and he figured by the time he reached the checkout counter, the cart should be full. He grabbed a few pre-packaged trays; a few filled with various cheeses and crackers and the others had assorted vegetables and meats. “Oh and fruit.” He was happy to see there was a tray for that. Morris picked up more wine than he should have and then put them back. He didn’t want people getting drunk at the wake, least of all him. Sparkling fruit drinks seemed like a better choice.

He had a choice of two lines. In one, a woman was struggling to maintain order with her screaming twins and in the other line was a woman with a serious sweet tooth. He thought that not just because of her size, but from the 2 separate gallons of ice cream on the conveyer belt. One was neapolitan flavored; ‘people still eat that?’ he thought to himself. The other flavor was rocky road, his personal favorite. Morris chose to stand behind the lady with the sweet tooth.

The cashier ran all of the lady’s item through. She told her the amount. The young woman ran her hand over the reader. The cashier frowned. “What?” said the customer.
“I’m sorry but the computer is telling me, you can’t buy both of these gallons of ice cream due a dietary flag. You can purchase one. Which flavor?” The customer turned same shade of red in the store’s logo. She looked like a lovely girl, Morris thought, but a bit overweight. But he knew he wasn’t one to judge. And saying a bit overweight was an understatement. The girl was too embarrassed to lie and say she was getting them for a party. She quickly put the rocky road ice cream aside. (She kept the Neapolitan) Morris was surprised; after all, chocolate, marshmallows and nuts. What could compete with that?

The cashier was about to call for a put-back, but Morris decided to purchase the ice cream. “No point in letting a great idea go to waste,” he said. The cashier offered a fake smile. Morris was worried about getting flagged. While he was overweight, his rank would always give him a free pass. At least he still had that.

He rolled his lot into the parking lot, distracted by how much everything cost; trying to remember where he parked and looking for his fellow ice cream lover…if she was still there. He knew most women tried to park as close to the entrance as they could get, so he started in and then moved out. It didn’t take too long. She was still in the parking lot, in her car…crying. ‘Probably cursing herself’. Morris knocked on the glass. She was startled but rolled down the window. Morris held up the tub of ice cream.

“You’re not diabetic, are you?”

“No, I’m not. I just need to…”

“What’s his name?”

“Oh, there’s more than one,” she said wiping away the few stray tears running down her cheeks. She reached her hands out to take the ice cream. “How much do I owe you?”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s from one ice cream lover to another.”

She smiled. That smile was the nicest thing he’s seen all day. It was real and it was just for him.

*****************************************************************************

Bonnie knocked on Dr. Hutton’s door. His voice was always calm and inviting. He never sounded or looked harried. Nancy was in his office as usual; Nurse Nancy, the staff called her behind her back. She was the head nurse. She set up the schedules for the other nurses and monitored everyone’s activities and not much else except of course for sitting in Dr. Hutton’s office.

“Do you have a minute? I’d like to talk to you? Bonnie said, leaning in from behind the office door. Nancy nodded at Dr. Hutton and started to walk out.

“It’s ok Nancy, you can stay.” There was no point in her leaving. Dr. Hutton would tell her anyway. The Dr. smiled, “Ok.” And put down the file he was pretending to read. Nancy leaned against the bookcase behind the Dr’s desk, trying to look every bit of the professional, her title gave her.

Bonnie sat down; with her hands clasped tightly together, hoping this would keep her grounded. “Dr. Hutton, I am an RN specializing in medicine and pediatrics.”, she began, “I transferred here from doing special ops work so I could actually do what I was trained for.”

“Yes”, he replied.

“I though I would be working with mothers and helping to bring life into the world. Unfortunately, I am doing an inordinate amount of abortions and specifically for minorities and for women living below the poverty level.”

“And…”

“And?” Bonnie was surprised by how casual he was. “Nancy, Are you ok with this? You’re black; doesn’t this bother you? We aren’t giving these women any other options. What happened to adoption or maybe giving them the resources to raise the child themselves. I’m moving these girls through here like it’s a production line.”

The doctor and nurse exchanged looks only people familiar with each other could understand. Nancy walked to the door; opening it first to make sure no one was lingering about outside. Once assured no one was around, she closed and locked it.

“Yes Bonnie, I do have a problem with it. But look at the types of women coming in here. You’re focused on the skin color instead of the lifestyle. These are single mothers who’ve already picked the wrong men. Their poorly educated if they have any education at all. They come from questionable backgrounds, thus the reason they are here and they’re potentially carrying the future criminals of the world. We’re just thinning the herd.”

Bonnie looked to Dr. Hutton who was wearing the same expression he always had; a placid smile amidst a sea of perfect teeth. Bonnie just wanted the regular, irregular nurses’ hours. She wanted to go to the same location everyday and see the same faces. She wanted to have the same hospital staff dating drama’s and personality conflicts she watched on tv. More importantly she wanted to see the excitement of expectant mothers listening to their babies’ heartbeat for the first time. Bonnie rung her hands tightly; she didn’t know what response she was expecting but this wasn’t it. The bandages around her recently deflated breasts were causing her to have a bad case of the itchies. They did that a lot, especially when she sweat. She sat back in her seat trying not to scratch. She should have had the implants removed altogether but the doctors told her to go to a smaller size. The size wasn’t the problem; it was the implants themselves. Her body viewed them as the invader. She was starting to feel very tired, a common feeling lately.

“There is a solution Bonnie,” Dr. Hutton offered. “You have the newer version of the chip. You can have a lights out/ wake up call option”

“A what?”

Nancy walked around, and stopped directly in front of her. “It’s like auto pilot. I do it from my cell phone. You give yourself a command word. You set up the times; you get a phone call – lights out. You subconsciously perform your job duties; in your case the procedures, but consciously you’re not there. After your last patient, you’re programmed to make a call to get your command word and you wake up with no memory of what you’ve done for the past 8 to 10 hours. It’s great. No stress. No pressure.

‘You wake up’, Bonnie thought. You just wake up – what a lovely thought.

*****************************************************************************

Morris was laying out his cloths for the funeral when he heard the doorbell ring. He was discussing his wardrobe choices with Stacey as if she were sitting on the edge of the bed, giving him advice as she always did. ‘You can not wear black and brown together’, she’d say.

He wasn’t expecting anyone so he ignored the doorbell and then his cell phone rang. Morris ignored it too, but it kept ringing. The display window said it was Lance. ‘What do you want?’ he thought.

“Hello Lance. I went to the doctor.”

“Hey Morris, I thought about our meeting earlier and I probably wasn’t as compassionate as I should have been.”

“Lance, this really isn’t a good time.”

“I’m outside your front door. I know you don’t have any family soooo, I thought maybe I could…uhhhh support you.”

A string of words couldn’t have sound more out of place. Lance had to be reading off of a script or something. Morris walked over to the guest bedroom to look out of the window. There he was, Lance looking as uncomfortable as he as ever seen anyone look. Morris went back to his room and got his hand gun and went downstairs. He didn’t know what was going on, but he didn’t buy Lance’s concern.

Morris cracked open the front door. Lance had a small overnight bag resting at his feet. He was glad he brought the gun down.

“I thought I’d keep you company. I could sleep on the couch and go with you to the huh…service tomorrow and then take you the doctors appointment.”

Lance was not his friend; he wasn’t even a good boss. He pushed papers from one end of his desk to the other and he looked good in a suit. Lance never got his hands dirty, unlike Morris who got dirty plenty of times. Maybe he was overreacting by bringing the gun to the door, but at this point Morris didn’t care. He was damn sure gonna grieve in private, not with ole blue eyes patting him on the shoulder saying, “There, there” and offering him his monogrammed handkerchief. He held the gun, low at his side.

“I’ll be fine Lance. Thank you for the offer. I just want to be alone right now.”

“I don’t mind. We don’t have to talk. You really shouldn’t be alone in a time like this.”
Lance picked up his bag trying to wedge it into the space the open door left.

(Really Lance. Why are you here? You selfish bastard) “It’s been a rough time. I’ll see you tomorrow at the funeral.”

“I understand you’ve had a lot to deal with…these past few days.” Lance was more insistent than Morris expected. He wondered who was on Lance’s back. Though he could not be seen, Morris knew there was a third person on the porch with them. Lance continued, “…your wife…Walt.”

The following silence was awkward, but like the third person, Morris also heard the silent question. “Walt didn’t tell me anything. Walt didn’t give me anything. OK Lance!”

“I wasn’t talking about that.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Morris pushed Lance’s bag outside and closed the door shut. He loudly turned the locks and put the chain on. He wanted to be sure Lance heard.

Morris went into the kitchen cabinet and got the dry ice freeze pack. He cried as he went upstairs to the bedroom. He wasn’t going to make it to the funeral. (Damn it Lance)
Morris knew he was as good as dead. He had gained a lot of knowledge over the past 15 years. He did a lot of work most didn’t have the stomach to do. He printed some info from his computer, downloaded some files and put a virus on his hard drive to fry it. There were two duffle bags in the back of the closet. He packed one for himself and one for Stacey. He called it the rainy day kit. He grabbed his. His rainy day was here.

*****************************************************************************

Pastor Lincoln wondered why he hadn’t noticed the cameras at almost every light post and the subtle, yet intimidating presence of the police. He remembered a time when it would be difficult to find an officer, now they were on every other corner; some were in the traditional uniform, others dressed in dark clothing 10 degrees hotter than the weather. It was easy to spot them, they did not blend well. They looked at you a little too intently, giving a ‘Hello’ which lingered long after you had past. Their hands were nestled awkwardly in their pockets jingling loose change or keys, a poor attempt to look casual perhaps.

Barry pulled into the gas station, pump #7. There were 4 cameras attached to the rafters underneath the steel canopy. Pastor Lincoln got out of the car to run his hand over the reader. He nodded to Barry the ok to start. Barry was also aware of the cameras. He turned up the collar of his jacket and tried to burrow his head deep between his shoulders.

There was an attendant emptying garbage containers at the pumping islands. The attendant gave Barry the perfunctory “Good morning” he probably gave to most customers; then he looked towards the pastor and gave a slight nod to the attendant inside the mini-mart. Xavier, inside working the register, focused on the monitor with the camera feed covering pump #7. This was Xavier’s first assignment away from Romulus. He wasn’t nervous; he just wished he knew more about what was expected of him. He was told very little about the job. Romulus told him to ‘monitor’. Monitor what? Xavier asked. “Everything” was Romulus’s reply.

Barry, feeling like he was being watched from more than the cameras, kept looking over his shoulder. It seemed as if either the gas wasn’t moving quickly enough or his compact car had a bottomless gas tank. Pastor Lincoln walked into the mini mart. It didn’t provide the healthiest options but he knew once they left the church, this would be their only food until they reached Lynn’s parents. He picked up chips, water, juice, a few sandwiches and protein bars. Xavier rang him up, slowly passing each item over the scan bar and putting them into a bag.

“Taking a long road trip?” he asked.

“Excuse me?” the pastor replied.

“I noticed you’re filling up the car. You’ve got the sleeping bags in the back seat; this food here…I think to myself…road trip.”

Pastor wondered how he could see the sleeping bags, but then he noticed all the monitors of the cameras feeding from every angle. He didn’t answer. The total on the register read ‘$53 credits to be charged to his account.

“Sorry, that’s how I pass the time. I look at the customers and try to guess their stories. Like you filled up with gas yesterday.” Pastor Lincoln looked up. “Well at least that’s what the computer says,” Xavier finished.

The pastor ran his hand over the reader grabbed the bad and walked out. Xavier was a few paces behind him. He walked over to talk to the other attendant and then he walked towards Barry and Pastor Lincoln. Barry judged from the nice haircut, this was not really a gas station cashier and that his name, despite the name tag was not Tom.

“Mr. Wilde, is everything ok?” Xavier asked.

“It’s Pastor Wilde, and yes, everything is ok. I’m just helping out a friend. When did gas station attendants start hassling the customers?”

“I…We don’t mean to make you feel harassed but I have to ask.” Xavier took a small wand the size of a marker, out of his pocket. He ran it over Barry’s right hand. “Your friend is not chipped,” he said to the pastor.

“No. He’s not. He hasn’t broken the law. Look, I’m a pastor at a local church. It’s called The Tabernacle.”

“Yes, I know.”

“I’m helping out a parishioner. I was told that wouldn’t be a problem. Helping people is a big part of my job.”

“Yes, I know it’s a part of your job, but there have been reports of some dissidents
using coercion to get people to help them.” Xavier looked over towards Barry, who was now filling a gallon container. From the look on his face it was obvious he wanted to get out of there fast.

“Some people are behaving in a desperate manner. And while your friend hasn’t broken the law, why would he choose to live this way when it’s not necessary.” Xavier then pulled out his phone, “I can make a call and someone will be here within 30 minutes and you can go back to work, you can buy your own gas and groceries and provide for your family.” Barry gave a cross look. Perhaps if in another time or setting, it would have been more than a look.

Xavier speaking unapologetically said, “I see the ring on your finger. It’s not just about you. Does your family want to live like this?” Barry put down the container and put the gas nozzle back into the pump. Pastor Lincoln quickly stepped in. “Barry!” Pastor didn’t want Barry to get in trouble and for all he knew that might have been what the attendant was setting him up for. Barry finished topping off the container. He ignored the gas running down his fingers as he twisted the cap back on.

“What’s your name sir?” Xavier asked. Barry ignored the question. He turned to Pastor Lincoln and said, “I’ll be in the car.” Barry got into the driver’s seat, promptly locking the door and then put on his seat belt. He made sure he looked straight ahead.

Xavier turned his attention back to the pastor. “I just want to confirm; you are choosing to help this man of your own free will.”

“Yes, I am.” Pastor Lincoln replied.

“Alright then. Have a good day Pastor.” Xavier replied with an out of place amount of cheer in his voice.

“Do you go to church Tom?”

“Not since my mother made me as a boy.”

“You should come. You believe in God…don’t you?

Xavier’s nose crinkled up into his face and his eyebrows pushed closer together.

“Do I believe in God.” He repeated however not really asking a question. “Believing and following are two different things. What about you pastor; do you believe in God?”

“Yes, of course. What kind of question is that to ask a Pastor?”

“You’d be surprised.” Xavier smiled and walked back towards the mini-mart with his hands pressed into his pockets.

Barry started up the car. He looked over to Pastor Lincoln who was having trouble with his seat belt and was clearly a bit confused.

“I don’t want to be disrespectful pastor, but you need to get your head out of your ass.