by Gary Sapp
blouse—which only made her appear larger—offered a comment that each generation had its signature point of racial unrest and that this was our time. And yet, another man wearing wrinkled khakis pleaded for cooler heads to prevail in what he repeatedly referred to as a fiasco. He demanded that Serena Tennyson and Xavier Prince pull their people back from this impending catastrophe. And before Thomas switched the TV off he saw one last woman whose odd figure proved that God indeed has a sense of humor, ask the question that he himself wanted to know: What would become of the missing boys when this conflict began in earnest?
He paced the floor pondering that question for a very long time.
He sat down. He got to his feet again. He peered over his shoulder at the clock resting on the nightstand. He compared the time to the one that he had synced to his laptop and his cell phone.
There were only five minutes remaining until the Zero Hour.
He ignored the remote to the TV and raced back to the hotel’s window for another look. It became painfully obvious early on that dozens of people had obviously not waited for the deadline to pass to make their hostile mark. In the distance, probably about two miles away, he could see groups of people wielding baseball bats involved in a confrontation.
He looked in another direction and saw National Guard troops putting their people in place. Several helicopters filled the skyline with their presence.
With nervous hands Thomas fumbled with his cell. It took him a minute or so to control them shaking and finally governing control of his thick fingers again. He dialed Lucy Burgess once more, but and automated feminine voice informed him that all circuits were busy. He fumed. He tried her number again a second…and then a third time…netting the same results each time.
He resumed his frantic pacing.
He steadied his hand long enough to use the remote to bring the TV back to life choosing to concentrate on local coverage of events. Tammy and her camera crew were struggling to continue their duties. She did announce that a heavy estimate of casualty reports from across the city was already coming in.
The pundits, he thought, had been wrong after all.
Atlanta was a city that had found the time to hate.
On the national feed the talking heads had gone eerily silent as video feeds from across the nation had uttered its violent message all too well. The funny shaped woman finally broke the silence and asked a question that Thomas Pepper was sure to take to his grave:
She asked the panel and all the viewers who watched tonight where was he at this evening? What was he doing? She said that he had been proven a prophet after all? She reminded the world that he’d seen the inevitable clash between Pandora and a House in Chains on the horizon for many years.
She also reminded him of something that he himself had forgotten that he now remembered uttering a single time five years ago on his vlog when he was feeling particularly dramatic:
A conflict between the two social powers could quickly escalate and get out control easily…and lead this country into a second Civil War.
Unable to idly stay in this room one second more, Thomas Pepper finally stepped towards the door. Atlanta’s missing children hadn’t been found. The extension that he had bargained with Xavier Prince in exchange for the whereabouts of Lucy Burgess had been for nothing. Now, the thought of the price that she might have payed—might still be paying was consuming him. In a few steps he had reached the elevator, but it had a sign displayed in front of the entrance saying that it was out of service.
Damn.
He was winded by the time he trudged down the eight flights of stairs. He stopped and bent over to catch his breath and to garner his thoughts to come up with some type…any type of makeshift game plan. Lucy’s hotel room couldn’t be farther than two miles from where he was standing here gasping for breath right now. He made his way to the parking area where he could see his Jaguar sitting on the third aisle. He fumbled for his keys as he reached the car…and saw something that was beyond belief: He had a flat tire.
Oh no, oh no, not now. I can’t believe that this is happening now.
He rolled Lucy’s hotel key card around his fingers again and again. He could change the tire, of course. But how much time will I loose in the mean time? He spun the key card around his finger one last time and secured it in his pocket. His mind was made up. He could reach her on foot. He could do this. He leaned back and inhaled deeply—and then Thomas Pepper did something before he set off that he couldn’t remember doing in years:
He prayed.
Four blocks away he saw his first act of violence as three white men drug another man of Latino descent into an alley and began pounding him to a pulp. He could only venture a guess as to what had gone on between the two parties before his arrival on the scene. This wasn’t his business. His only business right now was getting himself to where Lucy Burgess was. Getting himself involved in this or any other fracas along the way hampered his chances of doing that in one piece.
Thomas Pepper was done trying to be the voice of reason in a chorus of others singing madness.
And then he jumped when he heard a woman screaming.
And then he heard round after round of gunfire that sounded as if it were close by.
Thomas Pepper lowered his head as much as his large frame would allow and got his feet moving.
Around the next corner he saw dozens of youthful black men breaking into rows of downtown shops, robbing each of the buildings of everything that a man could carry. One of the store owners, who looked to be an Asian descent wrestled with one of the thieves over his merchandise—only to be expectantly be shot in the be shot in the head by another gun carrying robber.
It didn’t take keen intellect to predict that the worse elements of society would feast on the rest of us, especially during the initial moments after the Zero Hour passed. Regardless of race or color, these heathens and lowlifes were little else but opportunist. There would never be a better time for them to exploit the anarchy in the streets and an undermanned police force to their personal gain.
Thomas was so very tired carrying around all of his extra bulk. He hadn’t needed to run like this on any continuous basis since his college days when he boxed. And the windy smoky conditions around him weren’t aiding his cause either. He honestly didn’t know if he had enough energy stored in his reserves to venture another three or four blocks to reach Lucy.
To his immediate left Thomas saw a middle aged woman of Indian descent fall to her knees as gang of teenaged white boys descended on her clothing store. She begged them to leave her and her possessions in peace. She told them that her husband had died a year ago and this store was all she had left of him in this world. Thomas tried to look away but as he glanced back he saw the woman grab one of the boy’s hands…and kiss his knuckles. She told them that she knew that they were good boys—all of them—and she knew that grant her wish and leave her be.
The boy squeezed her hand with enough force to cause the woman to wince. One of his buddies moved past them both and wielded two handfuls of cash in a blink of an eye when he returned. Three others took their turns inside each exiting the store with hundreds of dollars of stolen merchandise.
And then the leader, who had been locked in physical contact with the store’s owner, back slapped her with that same hand…
…and then he pulled his pistol out as if to finish her off—
And by all that is and was holy, Thomas Pepper had seen enough.
“Stop this now,” Thomas yelled at them before he had realized what he had done.
The one with the gun fired a shot just past Thomas’ ear as a single warning shot for him to mind his own goddamn business.
Thomas cursed back at him.
The boy trained his pistol on him. Thomas thought that he surely was a dead man…and a damned stupid one at that.
But just as quickly the boy begin to smile…he put the pistol away for now and instructed his boys to cause him to suffer a wee bit before they made the fi
nal kill.
And so they began to chase after him instead.
And yet, despite Thomas’ advanced age and weight, he had a decent head start and rounded the next corner, but was already beginning to breathe heavily.
They were already gaining.
Well, at least the store owner would be able to escape while they are chasing me.
He could go to his grave knowing that he at least saved someone’s life tonight, even if he had failed to save Lucy—and himself in the process.
After he cleared a jewelry store that was being ransacked with the gang closing the distance ever rapidly he knew he was down to two very difficult options: He could take his chances and run out into the open street and risk the boys tiring of the chase and giving it up or them firing their guns at him.
Or he could hope…he could pray by God and Jesus that they had a thread of decency in their bones and wouldn’t follow him into a cathedral that was just close enough for him to use his very last ounce of strength and courage to reach.
And he had to make his decision right now.
Thomas Pepper ran for his life towards the church.
He could nearly feel a couple of errand shots that whizzed by him, striking two other pedestrians who were running from the heist at the jewelry store.
Thankfully, the huge French doors slid open without issue and Thomas dove inside the entrance, slowed his momentum in an instant and slammed the door and bolted it behind
