by JM Bray
‘What’s that?’
The man moved only his eyes ‘It...it was on the floor of my car. I was gonna stuff it in your mouth.’
‘Hand it here.’
The biker picked it up with a quivering hand and held it out.
Vinni took it. ‘A domino? Why?’
The biker held up a hand, shaking his head. ‘I don’t know...really...it just came to me.’
Vinni put it in his back pocket, holding the man’s eyes as he did. ‘Get your men to a hospital and leave town.’ He leaned down, grinning. ‘If I see you again, my blades will have your souls. Do you understand?’
‘Yes. Please... Thank you...never...you’ll never see us again. I swear.’
‘Your oath? You swear it?’
‘Yes, I swear.’ He started to weep.
Vinni turned and walked into the fog.
Knife’s unfocused eyes wandered aimlessly when Vinni arrived.
‘Knife, it’s okay, bud. I’m gonna carry you.’ Vinni helped him to his feet and lifted him with his shoulder, heading along the right side of the street. ‘The blades are in my belt; don’t cut yourself.’
‘Who’s yelling?’ Knife asked
‘Broken bones are pretty painful.’
Knife snickered as Vinni turned into a parking lot for Old Town.
‘I think I can walk.’
Vinni set him carefully on his feet. Knife weaved but stayed upright. ‘I told Flea to circle the block, so we’ll cut through the village.’
‘Stay close, things are still swimming.’
‘Just like the guy that hit you.’
‘Oh really?’
‘Yeah, I slapped him upside the head with the flat of my blade.’ He bared his teeth at his friend.
‘Nice.’
They moved along the dirt street past the preserved adobe buildings. It felt like they were two hundred years in the past, coming home from a tavern brawl. Lamps dotted the way — diffused, glowing spots in the fog. The state park ended and a street lined with businesses continued. Vinni looked to the left and saw the mission church on the corner, like a white fortress in the darkness.
Car lights flashed, and Jule jumped out, running their way. She wrapped her arms around them, speaking rapidly, ‘Knife are you okay? What happened? How’d you get away? Where are those men?’
Knife started to chuckle.
Vinni smiled. ‘Knife’s fine, we had an altercation, we walked, and they’re lying all over the street.’
Jule nodded. ‘Good, serves them right.’
Flea asked quietly, ‘Did you...kill any of them?’
‘No, but some probably wish they were dead.’
‘Let’s discuss this in the car,’ Knife said. ‘We should get going.’
‘Good idea,’ Jule said. ‘Vinni and I are riding in the back.’ Her look told them it wasn’t a request.
As they walked, Vinni said, ‘Just a sec.’ He stopped at a pay phone, dropped in a coin, and dialed the number off a card in his hand.
‘Mr Brown?’
‘Vinni?’
‘Yeah, it’s me. I think we have a problem.’
‘What’s happened?’
‘We were attacked.’
‘Attacked? Is anyone hurt?’
Vinni looked at his friends. ‘Knife got knocked out, but he’s okay now.’
Mr Brown paused, as if he knew the answer and didn’t want to ask the question. ‘Was the attack random?’
‘They said it was, but...I had another run-in last week. It seems like too much of a coincidence. ‘
Silence. ‘Perhaps there is something else at work here,’ Mr Brown said.
‘That’s why I called.’
‘Did they find you at my shop?’
‘No, it happened down the street.’
‘If indeed another enemy is involved, we should consider a place with better security — somewhere off campus,’ Mr Brown said.
‘That might be a good idea. Do you have any thoughts?’ Vinni asked.
‘Let me mull it over tonight. You discuss it and call me in the morning. Please be cautious.’
‘We will. Oh, I forgot something,’ Vincent said, digging in his back pocket.
‘Yes?’
‘The guy had something he was going to put in my mouth after, well, you know, after...’
‘...he killed you. I understand, Vinni. What is it?’
Vincent held it up in the florescent light. ‘It’s a domino with a blank on one half and a single dot on the other. What’s up with that?’
‘A zero-one domino? I have no idea. Let me consider it.’
‘Okay, thanks.’
Vinni hung up. His three friends looked at him, holding back their questions.
‘We need to talk,’ he told them.
The ride home was somber. The implications hit them like a brick. Picking out 17th century swords was exciting and heroically romanticized. Having to use them against hired killers stuck a pin in that shiny bubble.
Then we’ll watch them carefully.
Jule leaned her head onto Vinni’s shoulder while Knife looked out the window, lost in thought. Flea wasn’t even trying to cheer them up, which said more about the situation than anything else.
‘I know you all want to help with this, but I’ll completely understand if it’s too much,’ Vinni told them.
‘I’m ticked off, not scared,’ Knife said. ‘I should have seen that punch coming.’
‘There was no way you could have known,’ Flea said softly.
‘Nothing can be what it seems; that’s all there is to it,’ Knife said.
Vinni said, ‘Maybe so, for now at least, Knife. But this isn’t a game; there were no dice on the street tonight.’
He looked back at Vinni. ‘You’re not shaking me that easily.’
‘I’m not trying to shake you. You’re the person who runs toward trouble wanting to help, instead of running from it. I need that person, like I need all of you.’ He looked at his friends. ‘It’s just...I think things are going to get worse. Maybe you guys should stay away. One of you could get killed.’ His voice cracked.
Flea looked at him in the mirror. ‘You could get killed.’
‘I know. That idea is easier for me to accept than losing one of you.’
Jule placed her hand on his chest, speaking softly, ‘Vinni, don’t you understand? You’ve made this huge commitment, but we’ve made the same one. We understand your feelings about death because we feel the same way.’
‘Exactly.’ Knife nodded. ‘Vinni, we’ve chosen to be here; let us carry the burden of that decision; you have enough to handle.’
‘Besides,’ Flea said. ‘The horse is out of the barn.’
Vincent looked at him in the mirror. ‘What?’
‘Elvis has left the building.’
‘That ship has sailed.’
I have no idea.
‘Can’t cry over spilled milk?’ Flea asked.
‘Flea, what are you rambling about?’ Knife asked.
‘Out of everywhere in San Diego they could be, those big, hairy guys found you — in the fog. If someone is behind this, don’t you think they could find us at the campus?’
‘Oh.’ Vinni’s eyes rounded in surprise. ‘I hadn’t thought of that; neither did Mr Brown.’
Flea nodded. ‘I’m not as dumb as I look...’
Jule snickered.
‘Wait, I meant...’
‘Well put, my friend,’ Knife said.
Vinni smiled. ‘I couldn’t have said it better.’
The mood in the car lightened noticeably. Flea looked at Vinni in the mirror and winked.
Flea knows what his audience needs.
Vincent felt Coleman’s sense of wonder.
They all are...except for Jule.
He looked down at her very feminine form against him.
They chuckled.
‘What?’ Jule asked.
‘Nothing hon’. Just Coleman being Colemanish.’
She smiled and put her head back on his shoulder. ‘What does Mr Brown want you to talk to us about?’
‘He thinks it’ll be safer, if I...I mean we, move off campus ’til this is over.’
‘Good idea,’ Knife said. ‘First the thing at the theater and now this.’ He shook his head. They rode back to the school, each lost in their own thoughts.
Chapter 26
Sunday Morning
‘You’re sure?’ Vinni asked.
Jule checked again. ‘Not that your writing is legible, but yes, 2728 6th Avenue.’
The drive had been pleasant, though slow, as it was Coleman’s first time behind the wheel.
‘But...it’s a church,’ Flea said.
‘Mr Brown said to dress for Sunday brunch,’ Knife said.
Vincent parked a block down from the large building.
‘That was a smooth ride.’ Jule smiled.
‘You can thank my mom when you meet her.’
‘She taught you how to drive?’ Flea asked.
‘The smooth part, yes; the fast stuff came from Dad.’
‘I was about to ask if your mom races cars.’ Flea laughed.
Coleman’s excitement pulsed in him.
Glad you liked it.
‘Lemme outta here,’ Knife said. ‘I don’t want to start sweating.’
Vincent got out, went around to open Jule’s door and offered his hand. She took it and exited, smiling.
‘Thank you, kind sir.’
After constant bad weather, the forecast predicted partial sun. Jule, deciding to capitalize on it, wore a lemon yellow halter-top sundress with white polka dots and high heels. The design accentuated her figure, while the white pumps emphasized her femininity. She could have stepped out of 1958. Vinni said, ‘Have I told you how amazing you look?’
‘Yes, several times, but one more wouldn’t hurt.’
‘You are beau — ’
‘Not much room to exit with you standing there,’ Knife said from the car.
‘Sorry. I’m dazzled by this beautiful woman.’
‘Oh, you silly man.’ She grinned. ‘So, what did Coleman think of his first drive?’
‘He enjoyed it.’
‘Wait till you actually use the accelerator,’ Knife said.
‘You should really take him for a ride, Vincent.’ Flea looked at Jule. ‘I’ve never seen anyone handle a car like he does.’
‘Really?’ Jule asked with a lifted eyebrow.
He shrugged. ‘I try.’
Okay, I’ll keep it slow. The anxiety faded as quickly as it started. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to that.
It’s okay, you can’t help it either.
He felt pressure on his arm. Jule frowned, patting him. ‘Vinni? Vincent, are you okay?’
A family walked by, the mother holding her son’s hand as she looked over. Vinni smiled, and she pulled him close, hurrying them along.
‘Yes, sorry.’ He felt his ears grow warm with embarrassment. ‘There are still some hiccups to this whole thing.’ Vinni shrugged.
‘Here you are,’ Mr Brown said cheerfully. He wore tan slacks, a white shirt, and a blue blazer. ‘How wonderful you all look. Last night’s activities left you no worse for wear.’
‘I have a small headache, but otherwise we’re great.’ Knife smiled.
‘Wonderful.’ The pipe appeared in his hand, and he gestured with it. ‘We’ll discuss it at length.’ He walked toward the church, leaving them to hurry after him. As predicted, the fog from the previous night had dispersed, and fluffy clouds floated across a brilliant blue sky. Vinni offered Jule his hand and she interlocked her arm in his as they came abreast of Mr Brown.
‘Where are we heading?’ Flea asked him.
‘To church, of course.’
‘Isn’t it a little difficult to have a conversation there?’ Flea asked.
‘Flea, my boy, as I keep telling you, there are conversations and there — ’
‘ — are conversations,’ Flea finished.
‘Ah, you have been paying attention.’
They entered a side alcove, where two smiling people waited by the carved wooden doors. They greeted the group and supplied programs as they passed through a second set of doors.
A large baptismal font stood at the back of the church on a marble floor. The marble continued on the back wall, framed with wood and mounted with inscribed plaques. Above that, large stained-glass windows let colorful light through its panes. The majestic setting pulled Vinni’s gaze and emotions heavenward.
He dipped his fingers in the font and crossed himself, as did Jule, with Flea and Knife following suit. They chose seats mid-way down the wide, red-carpeted aisle. The sanctuary had a vaulted center with white round pillars spaced along the sides. High, pointed arches reached between them, drawing the eye forward to the ornate wooden altar. Wooden beams supported the ceiling.
A sense of rightness settled over him.
What?
All the time?
A pipe organ started playing, and a chorus of voices rose from the front. The service was similar to Vincent’s Catholic upbringing. Jule looked comfortable and Knife cautiously followed the readings while Flea joined in full voice. He had an impromptu solo when he read at the wrong moment but he just smiled and joined in again. It wasn’t long before Coleman’s lilting voice helped shape Vincent’s.
Two young people brought a large Bible to the center of the sanctuary, and the Father read from it. The solemnness of the rite permeated Vinni’s being.
No, he’s the priest. I’m pretty sure they don’t have a Seer on staff.
The sermon referred to the protecting of the Lord’s hand, something Vinni needed after last night. Later, they offered peace to those around them. Jule hugged him. ‘Peace be with you.’ Her hug tightened.
‘And also with you,’ he said.
She had tears in her eyes and reached for her purse. ‘Sorry, I’m leaking,’ she said with a small smile.
During the service, Vinni saw Mr Brown gauging their attitudes and responses. The Communion began and they processed by row to the front of the church, where the Father served them. As Vinni sipped, the priest said, ‘The Cup of Salvation.’ Hope welled within him. He didn’t know if it was Coleman’s or his and didn’t care.
We’re doing what’s right.
Will we make it through this? Foreboding warred with his other emotions. Coleman didn’t answer for a long moment.
In that moment, Vinni’s resolve solidified. Come what may, they would see this thing through.
The Reverend recessed to the back of the sanctuary and said, ‘Let us go forth in the name of Christ.’
‘Thanks be to God,’ the people answered, and the service was over.
‘That was cool.’ Flea grinned. ‘Let’s do this again.’
Jule beamed. ‘I’m glad you liked it.’
Mr Brown said, ‘Flea, there’s hope for you yet. Knife, what did you think?’
‘It’s way different than the Baptist church I attended as a ki
d. I enjoyed it, though.’
‘Jule, you seemed right at home,’ Mr Brown said.
She nodded and smiled. ‘I’ve been an Episcopalian my whole life.’
‘What about you, Vinni?’ she asked.
He nodded. ‘We needed this.’
Mr Brown smiled. ‘Now then, let’s be off to lunch.’
The Reverend spoke to people at the door. ‘Eleazar.’ Rev Martin was in his early fifties, tanned and athletic. ‘When are you coming out with me?’
‘You’ll have to keep waiting on that one, Reverend.’ He turned to them. ‘He’s been after me to go surfing.’
‘Someday he will.’ The Father smiled. ‘Are these fine young people with you?’
‘They are. This is Knife and Flea, I have no idea what their actual names are. Our young lady is Jule, and this is Vinni.’
‘It’s very nice to meet you; you should come to our college group sometime.’ He shook their hands as he spoke, coming to Vinni last. When their hands clasped, Vinni felt a shock run up his arm. The reverend’s eyes widened, and he started to say something, his mouth working; finally, he said, ‘Vinni, the Lord Bless your chosen path.’
He met the man’s eyes. ‘Thank you, Reverend.’ Their hands remained gripped until Mr Brown set his hand on Vinni’s shoulder. ‘I’ll bring them again.’
‘Yes of...course.’ His brow furrowed, as if trying to recall what had happened; then he turned to the woman behind them. ‘Ruth, your solo at Evensong was wonderful!’
‘How does Mexican food sound?’ Mr Brown asked.
They glanced at each other.
‘My treat, of course,’ he added.
A look of relief passed among them. ‘Sounds great to us,’ Knife said.
‘Wonderful. I have a craving for menudo.’
‘You have a craving for the Hispanic boy-band?’ Jule asked.
‘No, dear me. Menudo is a delicious Mexican soup. It’s traditionally made on weekends,’ he said as they walked in the warm noon sun.
‘Oh.’ She giggled. ‘That makes more sense.’
‘Why just weekends?’ Flea asked.
‘What kind of soup?’ Knife asked at the same moment.
‘It’s reputed to be a cure for hangovers, which occur most frequently after Friday or Saturday nights, and it contains tripe, hominy and pork hocks, in a broth. Then it’s sprinkled with onion, oregano, and red pepper; my mouth is watering just speaking of it.’
