The Mirror Apocalypse

by John Ayang

  Hannah noticed her behavior and, struggling to stifle her laughter, said, “Jennifer, it’s him. It’s Cletus. You’ll be convinced once he tells you his story.”

  “I know,” Jennifer replied. “I’m just rubbing him so he can feel that he’s still a human being. You never know with Cousin. He might begin to think he’s Jesus risen from the dead.”

  “Okay! That’s what was going on in your mind at the cemetery. I knew it! You thought you were Mary Magdalene seeing the risen Lord in the Garden of the Resurrection!” Cletus McCarthy said, looking excited, like a detective who had caught a culprit in a ruse. He turned and addressed his parents, “You should have seen her. She was swooning, and was about to genuflect and say ‘Rabouni’ when I stopped her.”

  “I was not about to genuflect and say, ‘Rabouni’,” Jennifer interjected, protesting and stifling a laugh at the same time. “I thought you were some bad guy trying to kidnap me and my son.”

  “I am going to tell you how I survived the accident so you can believe it’s me,” Cletus said. “Actually, I did not survive it. I escaped it.”

  “Quit bragging and tell me how you faked your own death. You used to be a pretty straightforward person, and now you’re becoming a counterfeiter,” Jennifer teased, drawing a seat to sit down.

  Hannah rolled her eyes and looked at her husband and said, “Honey, do you want supper, or are you going to stand there all evening watching those two? They were born to fight. So, if you’re hungry, tell me what you want for supper.”

  “Yes, honey. I’m hungry,” Stephen McCarthy said, nodding his head for emphasis. “No, I’m not standing and watching them all evening. I’m just wondering whether history is not witnessing another 100-years war in the making. I can’t believe they’re picking up right where they left off.” He chuckled incredulously.

  “I think the little man is asleep,” Cletus said. He got up slowly and placed the baby in the stroller, then came back to his seat. “He doesn’t want to listen to his dad’s boring story.” He turned, slightly facing Jennifer and said, “Since you weren’t here this afternoon when Mom opened the door and I walked in, let’s begin our story there.”

  “Oh, my goodness! He’s going to tease me about it forever,” Hannah said. “Can we just skip that part, please?”

  “Okay, Mom. I’ll just give a summary of that and go on. She shrieked in horror and ran upstairs.”

  “I shrieked and ran because I thought I was seeing a ghost,” Hannah confirmed. Then she added, for Jennifer’s benefit, “He just walked past me at the door: bowler hat, great coat, and all, and came in straight into the sitting room. I rushed after him to challenge what kind of audacity he thought he had to barge into my home like that, thinking he was some kind of investigator. Then he removed his hat, coat, and suit, and said, ‘Mom’. I immediately recognized him and nearly fainted. That’s when I shouted, calling Steve, who was upstairs.”

  “The drama was much bigger than what you and I had at the cemetery,” Cletus took over the story. “It took me a whole lot of effort to calm them down and make them understand I didn’t want the neighbors to hear what was going on. It would have destroyed my chance of beginning a new life somewhere where I’m not known. Can you now understand, Jenny? To the rest of the world, Cletus Nicholas McCarthy, the IVF-conceived priest outed in court, who resigned his priesthood shortly thereafter, is dead, buried, and long gone. That chapter is closed. It was an idea that came to me in a split second. And I said to myself, ‘if you are going to invent a new identity for yourself, and put the past to rest, this is your chance to do it. Otherwise, it is going to dog you throughout life. The accident provided a perfect cover.”

  “I’m beginning to understand,” Jennifer said, nodding affirmatively.

  “Good,” Cletus continued. “When I kissed you and left, embarking on the two-day odyssey to Norfolk, it didn’t cross my mind that events would take this turn. Remember, I kept in touch with you throughout the first day till I took a break for the night? And I did the same the following day until about five in the evening? I also kept in touch that way with every other person till I was less than 150 miles from Norfolk, when I had to stop at a rest area to pee. And that’s where things began to get weird.”

  Cletus didn’t really need to pee. He’d informed Dr. Horacek earlier about the exact time he would arrive at his house, according to his GPS calculation, but later realized that, having cruised much of the way at well over the speed limit, he was going to arrive almost one hour early. So, he thought making a few stops would bring him closer to his target time.

  “The rest area I stopped at was smelly and unclean. So, I got out again and, looking up, I saw a gas station about half a mile away. I thought to myself, ‘I can whittle away a bit of time there, and, maybe have some snack’. I drove to the gas station and stopped at the outermost pump to top off my tank. So, that way, I wouldn’t have to stop for gas till I arrived at Dr. Horacek’s. When I went in to get a snack, I saw three young guys loafing around by the outside corner of the building. I remember faintly thinking they looked suspicious. They were smoking some kind of awful-smelling wrap and passing it among themselves. I went inside, picked a muffin from the shelf and a can of Sprite from the refrigerator, and went to the counter to pay. Suddenly, there appeared this dude from nowhere, coming to stand beside me. He was strongly built and pleasant-looking, though.

  “‘Good combination, buddy’, he said, indicating my sprite and muffin.

  “‘Thank you’, I said and, sensing that he was spoiling for a conversation, began wracking my brain for something gracious to say and take my exit. ‘Keeps the guts from rumbling till one gets to the major meal’.

  “On that, I agree with you, buddy’, he said. ’I’m gonna grab me one of them muffins for the road before I leave’.

  “’Good idea. See you around’, I said and picked up my bag of snacks to leave.

  ‘Hey! Wait a minute’, he said, placing his hand on my arm. ’Don’t I know you from somewhere’?

  “My first impulse was to hand him the change I was still holding, but he didn’t look like a homeless beggar. In fact, he was better dressed than I was, and trying to give him alms would have been an insult. Besides, he exuded such friendliness and confidence that I felt no threat from him. So, I said politely, ‘I’m afraid, Sir, that you must be confusing me with someone else’.

  “’You’re out of town, aren’t you’? he asked.

  “’Yes, I’m afraid I am’, I said, unwittingly taking the bait, thinking that would make him admit he was confusing me with someone else.

  “’Let me guess. Texas’, he said. ’I can tell by the accent’. I nodded, thinking again, that was it. He was going to apologize and shake hands so we could part ways. I was wrong.

  “’Then, you are the guy. I can’t mistake the face. I have the stack of papers’, he continued as I started getting irked. I was about to tell him off and tell him to stop bothering me when he pulled me further aside and said, ’Listen. My name is Michael Parker’, and then stretched out a hand for a shake. ’I am Roman Catholic. In fact, you may not believe this, but I am also an ex-seminarian. Two weeks to the diaconate at Mundelein, Chicago. I got pulled out by the bishop and asked to find me another calling. It was painful, man. But I eventually joined the police force’.

  “’So, you’re a cop, then’? I asked, sighing with relief as I shook his hand and we started to walk out.

  “’Yeah, but not exactly’, he said and, before I could ask what he meant, he added, ’My two cents about your case, and I’ll let you go. It don’t matter how you were born. What matters is how you will die. The former, you can’t control. The latter, you can shape and reshape it. Choice is yours. Good night, buddy’.

  “While he pulled me aside, I had heard a plop sound behind me, which I didn’t immediately pay attention to. But I did turn around a few seconds later to see what dropped and I
saw nothing. All I saw was one of the wrap-smoking guys I had spotted outside earlier, pretending to be reading the menu board above the counter as people tend to do before placing orders for what they need. Then he pushed past us at the door in one great rush. As my magical acquaintance started to go, I called ‘good night’ in response and touched my back pocket for my car keys. It was empty. Then it dawned on me what the plop sound was. Simultaneously, a car engine revved from the direction where I had mine and I looked up. I could not believe what I saw. The headlights of my car had come on and the car was moving without me.

  “Hey! Hey! That’s my car! Stop! What are you doing? That’s my car!” I shouted and ran after it, but it sped off in one furious rush of mad screeches of tires on the tarmac. Just at the same time, my magical acquaintance, Michael Parker, pulled up in a police towing van.

  “’Hey, buddy. What happened? You’ve been carjacked’?

  “’That’s my car those guys have pinched’, I yelled back.

  “’Sons of bitches’! he swore and pulled up by me nearly running over my foot. ’Hop in! Fast! Hop in! We gotta get back your car’!

  “I barely had my rump on the seat when he revved off in the direction that those guys took. Seminarian-turned-policeman Parker stepped on the gas pedal like nobody’s business and we gave the mad chase of our lives. I hung on to my clicked-in seatbelt for dear life. Within three miles of the hot chase, he indicated to me that he had spotted my car.

  “’That’s your car right there. That’s it’, he said.

  “’Where? Where do you see it’? I asked, perplexed, because there were other cars and trucks on the road. And it was dark. So, I wondered how he could see my car when he did not even know what kind it was. That’s when I got to learn some minor police detective work.

  “’Watch the tail lights of that vehicle weaving in and out of traffic without signaling. And it’s going faster than other vehicles. They appear to be in a great hurry. So, who can do all those things except the guys hurrying to get away with your baby’? Then he doubled his efforts on the gas pedal and started weaving in and out of traffic himself. The speed was so giddying that I nearly begged him to stop and call off his chase, and let the thieves go, if only I could still have my life in one piece. But he seemed quite calm, and even looked like he was enjoying the chase. I thought I was going to die chasing my stolen truck. Eventually, he switched on the blue and red flashing lights and the siren, still deftly manipulating the steering wheel, switching lanes with short or no notice at all. The lights and the siren were a tremendous help, as other traffic easily gave way and we started gaining on the thieves. It was the nightmare of my life. Eventually traffic became scant and the thieves increased their speed and were going insanely fast. My companion took that as a dare and got furiously hot on their tails till we were less than a quarter of a mile from their rear. And that’s when Murphy’s Law set in. It happened so quickly that, to this day, as I am sitting here, and I still believe it was a miracle that Michael and I survived.”

  “What is Murphy’s Law?” Hannah interjected.

  “Whatever can go wrong…” Stephen McCarthy started, paraphrasing.

  “,,,will eventually go wrong’,” Cletus McCarthy completed the statement for him.

  “I did not see it myself. It was Michael’s dread-filled exclamations that alerted me to what was about to happen with no remedy at that point. First thing I noticed was a sudden jerking movement as he abruptly removed his feet from the gas pedal and started slamming on the brake.

  “’O Jesus Christ of Nazareth! Don’t let it happen! No! This is not happening! Lord, don’t let it hap…’ Michael shouted and, at the same time, almost standing on the brake pedal of his truck.

  “Out of the dark shoulder of Highway 58, to the right of us, sped out an eighteen-wheeler tanker, off a slight incline, joined the main road at a sharper angle than usual. It went diagonally straight across the highway, cutting in front of the speeding thieves. The tanker driver had apparently lost control and was, perhaps, trying in vain to correct his bearing. As he was about to hit the left shoulder of the road, he wheeled sharply to swerve back to the right lane where he should have been in the first place, but his efforts made things even worse. The long tanker part of the truck could not withstand the force of such a sharp curve. It careened and tilted and, with the force and speed with which it was thrown, crashed on its side with the loudest smacking sound that I had ever heard in my life. It slid on for almost a quarter of a mile with the noise of a very loud rumbling of thunder, with sparks flying from the crushing friction.

  “All I saw at that moment was the vehicle we were chasing swerve to the left. It suddenly shot up in the air and began to tumble into the blinding sparks of the overturned tanker. Then everything went black as my companion and I kept shouting, ‘O my God! O my God’! I felt the jolting and bumping movements for a second or two before everything calmed down and I opened my eyes and saw Michael unbuckling his seatbelt.

  “’Come on! Let’s get out and sit down on the ground’, he said. I followed his voice and obeyed sheepishly. I unbuckled my seatbelt and pushed open the door and stepped into weeds and grass. I had no idea where we were for a second. Then it gradually became clear that we were inside the grassy portion of the right shoulder of the road, almost emerging onto the side road where the doomed tanker had come from. ’Are you okay’? Michael asked as he came over to my side.

  “’Yeah’, I replied, taking a step away from the truck and checking out myself for any injuries. Satisfied I had none, I looked up to get a good handle on our bearings as Michael was still peering at me in the semi-darkness and again asking, ’Are you okay’?

  “What Michael told me later was that we had rolled over, too, as he slammed the brake as hard as he could, trying to swerve to the right to avoid running into the pile ahead. Fortunately, we rolled over into the grassy knoll only once and then our vehicle stopped, landing standing upright, on its tires. I had lost that part when I blacked out in fear. Other vehicles that came after us had stopped with their headlights and hazard lights fully on. A few were honking, probably to warn others, and a handful of commuters far behind us had started coming out of their vehicles. Michael started running toward the pile-up which was just, probably, about forty feet away. I followed, again, pulled by some invisible force. Smoke was building over the pile-up and loud hissing sounds could be heard, as when you pour water on a red-hot iron.

  “I don’t know who saw it first, but Michael insisted he had seen it. Someone started shouting for those who were approaching to fall back.

  “’Go back! Run back! For Chrisake, run back! It’s gonna explode’!

  “As if on cue, there was a very loud explosion with a blinding flash. Michael grabbed me by the shoulder and threw me on the ground with him. Then he pulled me, yelling, ‘Get up! Run, run with me’! I struggled to get to my feet and ran to safety with Michael. From our safe vantage point on the access road, we could see the vehicles that had gotten too close to the pile-up scramble to back up or turn around to head for safety. It was the largest inferno I had ever witnessed. The fallen tanker and the two unfortunate vehicles that had run into it blazed furiously, with flames jumping as high as thirty feet into the air with a series of loud explosions. We watched in disbelief. The hope of ever saving anybody from the wreckage, or ever retrieving their bodies, was gone in the flames. Nobody could get within thirty feet of the blazing heat. Even Michael was so stunned that he stood speechless for almost two minutes before he suddenly remembered to be a cop. He yanked open the door of his truck and pulled out the speaker. Fortunately, his radio crackled to life.

  “’Mayhem! Mayhem on five-eight East! Tanker and trucks ablaze, mayhem! Head Office, come in’!

  “’Head Office, alert. This is Corporal Dwayne. Come in’. Just then a voice came on the other end of the radio.

  “’Mayhem in traffic, five eight East. Tanker and
vehicles in infernal blaze, come in’, Michael called in again.

  “’Head Office, alert. Will send in help. Over’.

  “Michael hung up and switched off the radio before Head Office could say more.

  “From a distance, we could hear the horns and sirens. Someone had called the fire department. We stood and watched for a few more minutes. Then, Michael pulled me by the hand.

  “’C’mon, buddy. Let’s get out of here. Let’s get to where you can pull yourself together. Cops will arrive in a few minutes to take care of the situation’.

  “’But…my car’! I protested.

  “’C’mon. We’ll take care of that in the morning. Whatever’s left of it’, he replied, pulling my hand. I climbed into his truck and he brought the engine to life and eased back out of the grassy knoll onto to the access road.

  “I protested again, ineffectually, and pointed out that the police might want to take a statement about my stolen vehicle. Besides, when I pumped gas at the station and later dashed into the convenience store, it was only to pay for my gas and a snack. And so, I had not taken my phone out of the car charger. My second wallet containing my driver’s license and other cards was in the glove compartment of the car. What that meant was that I was without anything to identify me as Cletus McCarthy at that moment. I couldn’t even call anybody in Houston, or call Dr. Horacek in Norfolk. Michael offered to lend me his phone, but I had nobody’s number in my head. He kept driving and I couldn’t ask him to let me out. I had no clue where I was, or, if he let me out, where I would go. He kept talking about getting everything straightened out in the morning. I had no choice, but to grudgingly follow him to where he was going, so long as he had promised me things would make sense the next morning, which he did.

  “Things did begin to make sense the next morning. I woke up with the sun’s rays coming in through the window, and it took me almost fifteen seconds to figure out where I was. The bedroom seemed strange, though well furnished. Slowly, the events of the previous evening came fully into my consciousness. I sat up with a start and began to recall what it was I was going to do. There was a knock on the door and it opened a crack first, and Michael spoke through it.