by Wm. Barnard
“What did you do?”
“I did what any brave fisherman would do. I shoved the fish away from me and ducked. And bam! Like a lightning bolt, that shark just engulfed my snapper. I darted away, swam to the top like I was Aqua Man and went right in. The kid I was with, probably twelve years old tops, comes strolling in like ten minutes later with like a thirty pound mahi-mahi, thing was like half his weight. When I asked him if he saw what happened to me, he just laughed all nonchalantly and said, ‘Oh, yes.’.”
While it was obvious Johnny enjoyed sharing his travels, I would catch his eyes drifting off as if he was already planning his next route of escape. I’m sure his adventures helped him avoid the thoughts of coming out of remission and ultimately, confronting his own mortality.
We ended up walking through the annual street fair and over to the old pier before heading back to my neighborhood. While getting out of the house provided a much-needed distraction, sitting on my couch later that night in the dark caused me to quickly become despondent again. With the half empty beer cupped in my hand growing warmer by the minute, I slid it across the coffee table and trudged off to bed early.
When I woke up the next day, I knew immediately I needed to do something productive and try to get out of this negative mindset. Having procrastinated long enough, I wanted to get my old motorcycle working again so I could get rid of my rental car. Simply changing the spark plugs and oil seemed to do the trick, and my bike fired up on the first kick-start. Hurrying inside, I grabbed my helmet, but the phone rang and delayed my test run.
“Hey, Vanessa, what’s up?”
“Just crazy busy here at the precinct, as usual. I’m working on that case about the missing teenage girl from La Mesa.”
“Oh yeah, I heard about that. I actually saw your old Lieutenant on the news talking about it. Does it look pretty bleak for her?”
“It’s kinda hard to say right now. Anyway, I just wanted to call real quick to see how you were feeling.”
“Still pretty sore, but I’m not wearing the sling anymore. And I am officially unemployed.”
“What in the world happened?” she said, surprised.
“Harry’s a weasel. He tried to tell me that it was “Human Resource’s” decision to suspend me, which of course usually leads to firing, so I just basically told him I quit.”
“So what are you going to do now?”
“I’m not sure. Obviously in this economy it’s not going to be easy to find a full-time gig that’s the right fit for me. There may be some freelance opportunities with the New York Times that I might explore. I’ve been trying to figure out who I might want to work for, but…” I let out a deep breath. “Boy, it’s weird. I haven’t even felt like writing since I got back from Africa. Just feel burned out right now so I might just take a break.”
“You should, Zach; you’ve been through a lot lately.”
“I’m looking to get away with Johnny soon, maybe down to Baja. But I’m kinda torn because I also think I should hurry up and try to get back in the swing of things. I don’t know. I just need to find something that will get me inspired to write again.”
“You will. It just may take some time. Look…I wanted to ask if you might want to go to church this Sunday with me.” Before I could answer she tried to back pedal. “Just try it out, see what you can get out of it…”
“Vanessa, I have no interest in going to some church.”
“Well, actually it’s not about going to some building. It’s about trying to cultivate a relationship with God.”
“Okay, whatever. Let me lay it out for you. When you got into this whole religious thing, I thought it was good for you since you and Ted just broke up. And if that’s what works for you, that’s great. But stop trying to convince me that Jesus is the only way.”
“I’m not the one who said Jesus is the only way; He did. The problem is that you don’t think that there is such a thing as absolute truth.”
“You keep talking to me about absolute truth, but you are talking to someone who has been around the world. I’ve seen plenty of people who don’t know Jesus from their elbow, and they’re completely happy. Whether it is Krishna, Allah, whatever, if it makes you happy, if it gets you into your little nirvana, then Buddha bless you.”
“All those religions you just spoke about are mutually exclusive by the very things they proclaim, so how can they all be the same? The Bible is the only book that you can actually prove is God’s word…”
“God’s word?” I said, shaking my helmet before slamming it onto my tile countertop.
“How can you sit there and make such a ludicrous statement? The most misinterpreted piece of literature on the face of the planet is more like it. Why don’t we start with religion at its finest and talk about the Lord’s Resistance Army? How they use ‘God’s word’ to enslave children into their army and turn them into killing machines? And by the way, where is your God when all this is happening, just sitting on a cloud playing a harp?”
“Well, I don’t pretend to know why God allows certain things…”
“Nice cop out,” I interrupted. “Seriously, you need to really think about the things you believe in. It not only goes against science, but it’s grossly bigoted.”
“Look, Zach, I didn’t call to make you upset,” she said, trying now to be careful about her word choice.
“Then stop your preaching! I’ve heard you spout this ‘Jesus saves!’ bit for two years now, and I don’t want to hear it anymore,” I said, pacing the kitchen floor.
“Okay, but you know it’s because I care about you and…”
“Look, my bike has been running this whole time out in the garage. I need to go.”
“Alright then,” she said, uneasily.
After an awkward pause, my lips rumbled as I let out a deep breath and said, “Look, I’ll call you later.”
“Okay, bye.”
Returning outside to the garage, I slapped the electric door opener and snatched up my sunglasses lying on a makeshift workbench. The engine sounded good as I revved up the throttle several times while the garage door opened slowly. Even though I just remembered that my helmet still sat in the kitchen, the exhaust smoke caused me to gag so I sped out of the driveway without it.
As I made my way over to a nearby canyon, I gunned it through some S turns and quickly realized how much I missed the power of my bike. With the sun shining down on my face, the cool wind that whipped across my body seemed to breathe life back into me and I began to feel free. For the first time in almost a month, I found myself truly smiling.
SOMETHING AS SIMPLE AS FIXING my motorcycle and the resulting ride had somehow left me feeling refreshed and rejuvenated. Even though I wasn’t sure what I would be doing next in my life, this afternoon had been a start in the right direction.
After parking the bike in the garage, I walked back into the kitchen just in time to receive the most peculiar phone call of my life.
“Zach Miller?” an unfamiliar voice asked.
“Yes?”
“You don’t know me. My name is Andre and I’ve been told to contact you about a piece of work that comes along once in a lifetime. You’ve been chosen not only for your journalistic integrity, but because of your openmindedness when approaching a subject matter.”
“I’m sorry, who did you say you’re representing?” I said, somewhat baffled, but flattered.
“Before I can divulge that information, I will need to ask you a few questions,” Andre said, matter-of-factly.
“Well, Mister…” I emphasized, trying to elicit a last name.
“Andre,” he said, flatly.
“Your name is Andre Andre?” I tried sounding fascinated that he actually had the same first and last name. My sarcasm had no effect on Andre as he continued talking in the same dry tone.
“For now, I can only tell you Andre. It is not me who you will want to meet with, but rather they that have sent me. There will be a meeting of tremendous historical significan
ce, and you will be given a message that will change the way we look at life itself. This story will easily be sold to every media outlet in the world. But please allow me to ask you a couple of questions.”
“Okay. Go ahead,” I agreed, and began to think of who could be playing a prank on me.
“Would you be available starting next week to spend possibly as long as a month at a secluded ranch to record the events?”
“I could, possibly.”
“And could you also agree not to contact anyone outside the ranch until all of the research is completed?”
“No contact with anyone?” I said, looking over at my laptop.
“There will be several people staying at the facility throughout the next couple of weeks who you will be interviewing, but during your stay we would need you to agree to be cut-off from communicating with the outside world.”
“Yeah, I guess, unless there was some emergency?”
“Of course, if you had an emergency medical condition, we would certainly help you get to a hospital. What I’m implying is that you would be cut-off from hearing from any friends and family, so you would be unaware if you needed to return due to a crisis concerning one of them.”
I paused for a moment to think. “Well, sure. No one is sick and dying right now, so I guess that wouldn’t be a problem.”
“Have you ever been, or are you currently, involved with any political parties or movements?
“Never have, never will.”
“Are you affiliated with any religious organizations?”
“No. I agree with Marx that religion is the opiate of the masses,” I added.
“Alright, Mr. Miller, I appreciate your time and we will contact you in the next couple of days.”
“Okay, Andre. So what’s the deal? You can’t tell me anything else?”
“I can only tell you that if you choose to be the one who brings this story to the world, you’ll not only bring honor to yourself, but will receive blessings beyond your wildest imaginations. Have a great day, Mr. Miller.”
I assumed he hung up when I heard a click, but kept the phone next to my ear.
“Well then. This is turning into the weirdest week of my life,” I said out loud. “And now that I’m talking to myself it must mean I should check myself into the Hotel California and throw away the key. Better yet…” I called Johnny.
“Hey, where you at?
“I’m going through the drive-thru to pick up a burrito.”
“I just got the craziest phone call.”
“From who?”
“I’m not even sure.”
“What do you mean?” The drive thru speaker blared loudly in the background, interrupting us so I waited for Johnny to finish his order before continuing.
“Hey, why don’t we just meet at the pub and I’ll tell you the rest?”
“I thought you were going to stay away from there after what happened,” Johnny said, sounding his concern.
“Well, I’m having a change of heart.”
“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t mind having a few beers, but I don’t want stay too long.”
“Wow. What’s gotten into you all the sudden?”
“Look, it’s okay for me because I’m a professional drinker and I have to look after my enormous stock investments in Anheuser Busch. But you, Zach, have a great talent and I don’t want to see you throw it away.”
“Did I mention that I’m buying?”
“I’ll be there in ten minutes,” Johnny said, and hung up.
CHAPTER 5
“Do you know what the best tasting beer in the world is?” Johnny asked.
“I have a feeling I’m about to be enlightened,” I answered, tossing a ten-dollar bill to the bartender.
“Free.” Johnny said, taking a huge drag from his frosted glass.
I hid my grin behind my beer, adding, “It’s utterly amazing you haven’t written a book to record all these words of wisdom.”
“Oh, you know that’s coming,” Johnny laughed and our mugs clanged in a toast.
Sitting bar side next to some empty stools, we had come in right after the Tuesday night happy hour crowd got their fill of beef taquitos, nachos supreme and two dollar beers. As I relayed to Johnny the details of the bizarre phone call I had received earlier, Murphy’s had become completely vacant, except for a few college kids who were playing darts in the opposite corner.
“So, Zach, who do you think is offering this assignment?”
“Not a clue. I was imagining it could be some biotech company that wants to announce a great discovery. I just don’t know why they would want me instead of someone from their PR firm.”
“Maybe so people will see it’s unbiased if it’s coming from you.”
“Yeah, that could be it. It’s really kind of weird when there is this big shroud of secrecy.”
“Well, that could make it all the more exciting.”
“I obviously have the time to do it now,” I said, letting out a burp. “It could be good for me to have an assignment where I can go into it not knowing anything, you know? Just to give me a fresh set of eyes. I feel I’ve done some of my best work when I’ve had basically no real knowledge of a subject.”
“Hmm…” Johnny said as he took another sip off his beer. “That’s weird. It seems like it should be just the opposite.”
“Sometimes, when I’m forced to write about something I don’t have much background in, it can end up producing a work that’s not so mechanical, not so textbook,” I tried to explain. “Anyway, I hope I can get some more information to help me decide whether I want to do it or not. Do you want to shoot some pool?”
“Can you afford to lose any more money from me, is the question you should ask.”
“Look, tough guy. Just try not to leave any skids on the table and try to keep the cue ball from hitting any patrons this time,” I jabbed.
THE SHRILLING BLAST OF THE doorbell pierced my skull, and I reached over the side of the bed with my eyes half-closed to search the floor for my pants. Leaning downward caused me to immediately roll onto my back and grab my throbbing head.
Why is drinking with Johnny so rarely a painless experience? Oh man, it’s already eleven-thirty, I thought as I glanced at the bright red numbers on my alarm clock.
Ding-Dong.
I was now certain I had pinpointed the most annoying sound in the universe.
Who in the world is ringing my doorbell? None of my friends ever ring the bell.
Looking out my bedroom window, I saw two men standing by the front door. When the doorbell echoed again, I envisioned cursing those two Jehovah Witnesses out and asking them if they were ready to meet Jehovah today. I then noticed that neither of them toted the ubiquitous literature, which gave me hope that these two weren’t here to proselytize me after all. After clambering down the hallway, I opened the door cautiously with the chain lock still attached and peered out through the small gap.
“Yeah?” I said through narrowed eyes.
“Zach Miller?” A short, stocky Filipino man asked.
“That’s me,” I said, recognizing the voice but not the face.
“I’m Andre. I spoke to you on the phone yesterday.”
“I thought you were going to call me back.”
“Well, due to the urgency of our upcoming meeting, one of my employers wanted to come over so you can meet him personally, and he can give you some more details of our proposal. He’s sitting in that car, but if this isn’t a good time, you’re certainly not obligated to meet with him.”
Normally, I would have told these guys to hit the road; having strangers just show up at my door has yet to prove rewarding. But now curiosity replaced my irritation, so I told them to give me a couple of minutes. Hurrying to my bathroom, I stuck my head under the sink faucet to wash down some aspirin and then I splashed my face.
Back at my front door, I found a man who could have passed for a Santa Claus stunt double. Instead of his usual red attire, St. Nick sported a Hawa
iian print shirt and khaki slacks.
“Zach Miller, it is an honor to meet you. My name is John Norstrent,” he said in a deep, but gentle tone.
“Oh, hi, it’s nice to meet you,” I tried to say politely, but wandered if he could sense my hesitancy.
“Can we sit down and talk? I have a very exciting proposition for you.”
In my sleepy haze I stared at his long, white beard that hung at least a foot below his chin and gave him the aura of a wise, old sage. My attempts to grow a beard had always resulted in patchy scruff, so naturally I coveted this real deal man-beard.
“Ah, yeah, sure, just let me get these papers off my couch and we can sit in here,” I said, glad I had at least taken time yesterday to clear all the evidence of my recent binge drinking.
After sitting down on the couch, Norstrent leaned forward and looked directly at me. “I’m assuming, Mr. Miller, because you noted that taking on this freelance project was indeed a possibility, that you are still available.”
“Free at the moment.”
“Well, as Andre alluded to in his phone call, we can only reveal so much information to you as to not compromise our position. You would be staying at the personal residence of one of my dearest friends where you’ll meet with several people who will bring you their stories. You will be sworn to secrecy during this month, until the story’s published, so the entire public is made aware of it at the same time. If you decide to pursue it, I have no doubts whatsoever that you will find it one of the most remarkable events in the history of the planet.”
John paused, looked over and smiled at Andre before looking back at me. “I’m a retired Navy pilot and was more than skeptical when I heard some of these things from an old friend. But now I’ve seen them with my own eyes and in total soundness of mind can say that I’m one hundred percent convinced. The people I want to introduce you to bring a message of truly tangible hope for all of mankind. These individuals will show you that they don’t merely have some philosophical idea about bringing peace and unity to our planet, but have the means, the real vehicles to bring it to fruition. To bring this story to the world will undoubtedly prove to be the highlight of your already illustrious career. Not only financially, but this journey will do wonders for your soul.”
