The Dominant Hand

by Charles Martin

  “Correct. And you will see that, as you get closer to the woods, the differences are more pronounced and erratic.”

  “Well, I might just have to run down to Sharper Image to pick one up.”

  “It’s actually not that eas…”

  “Okay, so what’s the big whup? We have to reconfigure time or something, like a more advance daylight savings time kind of thing. Why do you think this is ripping apart the universe? Why can’t it be some magnetic phenomenon that’s throwing off all the clocks?”

  “Oh..um, well, that wouldn’t affect my clock in this way. I feel it’s a threat because time is a constant thing, it’s not something that should … bend like this. There is a relative nature to time, of course, but what I’m talking about isn’t like that, this is a deviation that actually defies the laws of physics. So, if the laws of physics are breaking down, then clearly the seams that hold together the universe must be about to unravel.”

  “Oh, well, that doesn’t sound good. If you’re correct, what now? Is this some kind of apocalypse or something? Are we heading for a judgement day scenario?”

  “I don’t think I should be the one to interpret what this all means, that’s not what I do. I do know, although, that there are government scientists in the area measuring the same anomaly. I am somewhat reticent to reveal all this, I certainly don’t want to cause any trouble to those that are studying this issue, but I also do think it’s necessary to let the public know that we might be on the cusp of destruction.”

  “Well, man, I kinda hope you’re lyin’ cause, what it sounds like to me is that God’s fallin’ down on the job, and is just going to let the whole shebang pull itself apart.”

  “I’m not lying, but I do hope I’m wrong.”

  “So, is your research into this ongoing?”

  “As I have time.”

  “Come on doc, this is the fate of the world! If our universe is going to collapse, it might be time to use up your vacation, huh?”

  “I suppose you have a point.”

  “Well, get to it. Now, I’d heard that there was some sort of police investigation going on, some guy got beat senseless and people are saying that Jacobs’ crazy cult had something to do with it. Could this anomaly have something to do with that?”

  “I can’t say. I know there is an investigation, but I don’t know much about it.”

  “Can you try to find out for me, doc?”

  “I’ll try.”

  “Okay, then, well … (line hangs up) that was creepy as all get out. Let’s move on to something lighter. Up next, we got a girl who says she’s possessed by a demon and must have sex with strange men to keep the devil at bay. My question for her: ‘How soon can you get here?’” (laughs, coughs, and takes a drag.)

  Charles

  “Mr. Martin, how does it feel to be considered the greatest writer of your generation, a beacon of hope for future writers?”

  “Well, I must say that acclaim comes with a great burden. I certainly wouldn’t have been ready for this kind of attention younger in life; I’m glad it came when it did.”

  “How did your work with the Jim Jacobs exposé prepare you for what would become the greatest American novel of the past 100 years?”

  “Well, Charles, it helped that my devotion to research and … oh, fuck was that my exit?”

  The car veered and braked, smoke billowed up from the tires and piles of notes poured out onto the floorboard. Cars honked and screeched as they sped by, but Charles Martin managed to get safely onto the on-ramp.

  “Sorry about that?” Charles laughed, looking over to the imaginary literary critic that gushed praise on Charles’s yet-to-be written book. “Where was I?”

  “You were telling us about research?”

  “Oh yes, being willing to dig deeper than the next guy is what sets me apart; even though I mostly focus on music and art, sometimes it’s hard to ask the difficult questions.”

  “I bet.”

  “My goal with every interview is to ask one probing question that the hundreds of reporters before me never thought of.”

  “That must be hard, Mr. Martin.”

  “Not when you know how, Charles,” he said as he noticed a small gas station approaching.

  Charles eased off the road and into the gas station parking lot.

  “So, where was the cult compound the girl told you about?” Charles continued as he checked his face and nostrils in the rearview mirror.

  “I have no goddamn idea.”

  Charles pulled the car up to the gas pump and got out. Once the fuel streamed into the gas tank, he reached into the car, dug through the notes on the floorboard and pulled out a map. As he unfolded the map, he heard a commotion from behind the building.

  Charles walked slowly around the station, making out the voice of a young woman with a deep country accent.

  “So what do you do when you are confronted with danger, Mr. Martin?”

  “Well, Charles, I think of my children; I think of their lives without a father and determine whether the risk I’m taking is worth orphaning my children.”

  “So is this risk worth it, Mr. Martin?”

  “I don’t know, that’s what I’m about to find out.”

  Two men were tugging at a young black woman. One man was short with a bleached goatee and tried to grab the woman’s waist while the other, a fat kid in a muscle shirt, held her arm. They were both around eighteen and both wearing blue and green kilts.

  “Get the fuck off me!” the thin, black girl yelled with her harsh country drawl as she spun away from them.

  She was pretty in a trailer park sort of way. The argument was getting intense and the girl was obviously afraid, despite yelling louder and with more bravado than the other two combined. All three looked like they smelled like dust, sweat and government cheese.

  “Hey!” Charles’s voice boomed, which scared all three of the kids. “Leave her alone!”

  The two men measured Charles up and down and then grinned.

  “Go back to the suburbs, dad,” the fat kid said.

  The girl ran behind Charles. She did smell like sweat and government cheese.

  “These guys are crazy!” she screamed. “They want to cut off my fucking hand!”

  Charles’s eyes widened and he took a deep breath.

  “You guys need to get out of here,” Charles declared, his voice not as strong as before.

  “Or what?” the short kid asked, pulling out a large hunting knife.

  Charles crouched and put his weight on his back foot.

  “I’m going to warn you one time,” Charles growled. “I’m a U.S. Marine. I will kill both of you.”

  The two kids walked closer; the short kid brought up the knife and the fat kid raised his fists. Charles inched toward the fat kid.

  “Bullshit, you’re no Marine,” the fat kid said.

  Charles jumped off his back foot and brought his knee up to the fat kid’s chin. The kid fell backwards and Charles stomped on his face just as he hit the ground. Charles backed away from the short one until he realized the kid was too stunned to react. Charles started after him, and the kid turned and sprinted off into the fields behind the gas station.

  Charles gawked at the fat kid lying on the ground unconscious. He’d never knocked anyone out before.

  “Run, you cross-dressing bitch!” the girl screamed.

  “Let’s get out of here.”

  Charles pulled the girl around the station and poked his head inside.

  “Two guys jumped this girl out back; one of them is still back there unconscious and the other is running around with a knife. Lock this door and call the police!”

  The attendant nodded. Charles pulled the girl to his car, removed the nozzle from his gas tank and jumped into the car. He briefly considered rushing inside to pay, but instead sped out of the driveway. Charles shivered and laughed.

  “Danger is nothing when compared to the story, Mr. Martin,” Charles whispered to himself.

>   ******

  Five minutes passed as the girl cussed, smacked her hand repeatedly on the dash and wiped tears out of her eyes. Charles’s hands were shaking, so he kept gripping tightly onto the steering wheel.

  “You can’t ever let yourself seem scared in front of the story,” Charles mumbled.

  “What’d you say?” the girl asked, as she tilted the rearview mirror toward her so she could reapply eyeliner.

  “Nothing,” Charles mumbled, waiting for her to finish, then tilting the mirror back.

  Charles wanted to give her time to settle down before he asked questions, and he also wanted to give himself time. Charles had been in a few fights in his life, and he was never scared during the fight; it was always the before and after he had a problem with. The fights that scared him the most were the ones that never happened, the ones where his friends pulled him away or he talked his way out of it. He would then have to think about what could have happened, what should have happened. He was always afraid he was a coward, and every time he avoided a fight, he was worried that other people agreed.

  This time, he knew he’d been lucky. He’d started to worry he might have killed the kid. Then he wondered if the attendant told the cops he’d forgotten to pay for the gas.

  “I’ve always thought fear was a more sincere emotion,” Charles whispered, while turning his face from the girl. “Happiness can pass in a moment, but fear can linger for a lifetime.”

  His face tensed and his body spasmed slightly.

  “You all right?” the girl asked.

  “Yeah,” he said, forcing a smile and turning back to her.

  Charles could tell she’d once been a very pretty girl, but her years wore heavily on her face. She was tucked into tight shorts that showed off her smooth legs that were the color of coffee with a touch of milk. Her buttoned-down white shirt just barely hid a red sports bra underneath. Her breasts were small, and every time she smiled, she showed her back teeth that were eaten out like she gargled with acid. He passed his eyes over her body again and began processing the kinds of thoughts that made the fear fade away.

  He’d never slept with a black girl before.

  “How are you?” he asked.

  “Fine.”

  She looked over and smiled awkwardly, as women do when they have bad teeth and opened their lips just enough to show the few good teeth in front.

  “Where can I take you?”

  “I don’t know, sir,” she laughed. “I really don’t have a place to go right now.”

  “Where were you?” Charles ventured. She frowned and looked out the window.

  “It was that cult in the woods, right?” Charles asked.

  She nodded and then glanced at the pile of papers in the floorboard.

  “Can I move this shit?” she asked.

  “Uh, yeah, just stack those in the backseat, please.”

  The girl began grabbing papers and tossing them into the back as Charles frowned. She saw a Barnes and Noble bag at the bottom of the pile. She pulled open the bag,

  “Charles Martin, huh?” the girl asked, pulling out his book. “Do you like him?”

  “Do you?” Charles replied, bursting with pride that a druggie knew who he was.

  “I heard he’s kind of a dumbass,” she said. “I don’t know, I’ve never met him, though.”

  “Oh. I see.”

  Charles watched the road and seethed.

  “So, where are we going?” the girl asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Charles said. “I was waiting for you to tell me.”

  “Like I said, I don’t have a place.”

  Charles realized she was a prostitute, and felt stupid it didn’t dawn on him before. It both disappointed and excited him.

  “Were you living out in the woods long?” Charles asked.

  “Yeah, there’s a bunch of people out there and they got all kinds of shit out there that make the days go by.”

  “I see,” Charles said, with a smile. “Why did they want to cut off your hand?”

  “Man, I don’t want to talk about that. Those guys are crazy and I need to find another place to crash tonight. Are you going back home to a family?”

  “Not tonight, I’m out on business.”

  “Can I stay with you, just one night? I might head to Holdenville after that, I got some family there.”

  Charles thumped his thumbs on the steering wheel as he thought.

  “Here’s the thing,” Charles said. “I’m going to be honest with you because I think you kinda owe me anyway.”

  “Okay,” the girl said, her muscles tensing.

  “It’s not like that. I’m actually a reporter, and I’m working on a story about Jim Jacobs, and I was out here looking for that cult.”

  “Pweh, I thought this was going to get real uncomfortable, if you know what I mean,” she said, and he did.

  The girl slid her hand onto his thigh, and though he didn’t move it, he was going to have to monitor it. He couldn’t allow himself to get distracted and there was no telling what creepy crawlies this girl was carrying around with her. She leaned over and pressed her lips to his ear.

  “I got plenty of ways to pay you back,” she whispered, and then kissed the lobe.

  He wondered if herpes could spread to the ear; he knew it could spread to the eye. His hands started trembling again.

  “I’m sure you do,” Charles said. “What I want is for you to show me where those people are.”

  She jerked her hand off his thigh and folded her arms.

  “Uh, uh. Fuck no, I’m not going near those people again.”

  “We don’t have to leave the car. Just show me the way there and I’ll come back tomorrow without you.”

  She bit her lip, glared at Charles and stomped on the floorboard, inadvertently ripping the cover of Charles’s book. He made a mental note to go buy another.

  “Fine,” she said. “But I ain’t going in those woods, you got me?”

  “I got you.”

  ******

  Once they left the highway, the gravel roads quickly dissolved into dirt roads. Charles did his best to keep track of how to get back, but turn after turn eventually rendered him completely lost. The girl was getting fidgety and nervous. She reached for Charles’s hand and clutched it tightly. As she began to sweat, the government cheese smell became more pronounced. He wondered if thinking she smelled like government cheese made him a racist.

  If she came back to a hotel with him, he’d have to get separate rooms, or make her take a shower at least. He wondered if sleeping with her would offset the government cheese thing.

  The fields disappeared and were replaced by patches of trees. The sun still sparkled through the trees an hour above the horizon. Charles didn’t want to get stuck out here in the dark.

  A man appeared far up on the dirt road, ambling along. His long beard hung like overgrown weeds, and he wore a ripped T-shirt and jeans with a hole in the knee so big it was torn from seam to seam.

  “I know this dude. Stop,” the girl said.

  Charles pulled the car to the side, and the girl jumped out. She ran up to him and said something, but the man continued walking as if she were just a shadow. Charles rolled down his window to hear.

  “You got anything?” she asked loudly.

  The man stopped walking, stared at her for a few moments, and then smiled.

  “Where ya been?” the man grumbled.

  “Just around,” she said. “You got some Mean Green?”

  “No child,” he said, his voice slurred, but still surprisingly articulate for a man who looked like a walking shag carpet. “It’s back at the campground, you’re welcome to come along.”

  The girl frowned and hopped around nervously, kind of like a child who needed to pee.

  “Pills, you got anything, X?”

  “At the campground.”

  “Well, fuck,” she grunted. “Okay, we gotta make it quick. I have to leave with this guy.”

  “Who?” the gu
y asked, looking around, apparently unaware that a car had parked next to him. “Are you a narc or have any other association with law enforcement, sir?”

  “No, just a john,” Charles said, figuring it was better than saying he was a reporter.

  “Excellent, are you going to be dining with us, then?”

  Charles smiled, but shook his head.

  “Hey,” the guy grumbled, walking to Charles. He stopped uncomfortably close and sniffed him. “Are you down with the movement?”

  “I’m just trying to get laid, man.”

  The bearded man laughed.

  “There’s plenty of that where we’re going.”

  ******

  The scruffy druggie refused to get in the car, so Charles drove at a crawl behind him. Every few steps, the druggie would swerve and nearly stumble, then stare at the ground as if something had reached up out of it and deliberately tripped him. The sun was setting, the girl was feeming in the passenger seat and Charles was starting to smell a Pulitzer through the fog of body odor.

  “So, you really a Marine?” the girl finally asked, as she scratched at her arm.

  “Sort of,” Charles answered. “I didn’t finish boot camp.”

  “You got kicked out?”

  “I received a medical discharge,” he said. “I’d been in for … well, it’s complicated. I learned enough, though.”

  “Hell, yeah,” she said. “You kicked those guys’ asses. You might need to do it again; you cool with that?”

  “Oohrah,” Charles replied weakly, which got the girl laughing. “So, why were those two guys wearing kilts?”

  “Fuck, I don’t know,” she giggled. “There’s a group of them dumbasses out there. They think they are some sort of barbarians or some shit. Not everyone out there is like that, most of ‘em are like my boy Herb out there.”

  “That’s his name, Herb?” Charles asked, looking over at the man walking beside the car.

  “Herb Hefner,” she answered. “He’s some kind of botanist or biologist or something. He’s a cook for the campground. He makes this badass shit called Mean Green.”

  “Meth?”

  “No, well, he does that too,” she smiled. “Mean Green, it’s like Gatorade, kinda, but takes you to another world. So, it’s kind of like a religious thing to them, like taking Communion, and he’s in charge. They call him the Lion.”