“‘Vinh was a preacher,’ continued Quan’s father. ‘He didn’t believe in war, or violence, or prisons. He stood outside the cell block, yelling at the top of his lungs that God wanted the prisoners to go free. They pushed him out only to have him crawl back in again. He got right up into the face of one guard, demanding that he see the prisoners. Finally, a superior had enough and threatened him with incarceration. He finally got his wish. They threw the short man right into my cell. He could not have been happier.’
“Reverend Taylor was glad his daughter sat beside him. They held hands.
“‘Vinh immediately started singing songs about God. I was so surprised by him that I didn’t know what to do. He was so cheerful and happy that I thought he must be completely insane. And then he looked at me with this deep penetrating stare. I shall never forget it.’
“‘“Do you know about God? God loves you”, he said.’
“‘Of course, I laughed at him and told him to leave me alone, but he kept singing and singing. He turned to the cell next to ours and started talking with two inmates. They had been arrested for selling drugs and stealing. He said, “The greatest thing that has been stolen in this life is your soul. It is gone but not for eternity. Just believe!” The three of them talked for a very long time, and I couldn’t understand what they were talking about. The words, yes, but the meaning, I didn’t know. And then they said to him that they also believed. He started shouting, “God is great! Blessed is the name of God!”’
“‘He turned and asked me what my story was. I told him to leave me alone. He started praying for me. I didn’t know who he was praying to, but he prayed and sang and kept asking me my story. Finally, I was so upset at him that I told him about the massacre, about my drunkenness, about the soldier I shot. I started crying, and he came over to me and put his arms around my neck and cried with me. He wept and prayed and sang with me all evening. I didn’t understand then. I didn’t understand.’
“He stopped and wiped his eyes. There was not a dry eye throughout the house-on-stilts. Nicki wept even though she was unsure why.
“‘And then he said, “You shall see a miracle. You shall see what God can do, if you just believe.” I didn’t believe. I wanted to believe. I wanted to believe that I had hope, but my life was cursed. I could not hope for anything more.’
“‘He kept saying that he would not be there long and our time together was short. He kept telling me about God, and Jesus Christ, and he kept singing. It was the singing that really affected me. He had so much joy. Joy in the middle of a prison.’
“‘Then, it happened. The guards came in and scolded him, threatening harsh punishment if he would not be quiet. He politely asked them if they knew about God and continued singing his songs. Finally, two of the guards opened up our cell and dragged him out saying that they didn’t want him here. As he left, he looked back at me once more and said, “Believe. Believe in the miracle. Believe.” It was the last time I ever saw or heard of this man named Vinh. I didn’t know what to think or do.’
“‘I finally fell asleep and kept thinking about the possibility of a miracle. It was foolish I thought. Early the next morning, when it was still dark outside, a violent blast shook the whole prison and surrounding area. I was knocked against the wall, and my head started to bleed. There was dust and smoke everywhere, and I could hardly breathe. People were yelling back and forth outside. I looked up and could see that the whole roof of our prison was ripped off. The full moon was shining, and as the dust finally settled, I could see the cell by the bright light of the moon. I noticed that the door was completely blown off its hinges, tucked nicely right inside the cell, leaning against the bars. I stood up and walked right out of the cell in a daze. The other prisoners were still in their cells, and they yelled for me to do something, but there was nothing I could do. I walked to the end of the hallway and saw that the screws from the door latch had been completely blown out of the door. Metal unscrewed directly from the wood by the force of the blast. I pushed the door open and walked into the guards’ office. No one was in sight. I walked through the large empty room and opened the front door leading to the street. There was no one there. I walked down the road a few hundred meters, and as chaos continued around me, I realized that no one was looking for me. I was free. I was given a second chance. I received my miracle, and I got down on my knees right in the middle of the street, and called out to this God I didn’t know. I asked Him who He was. I thanked Him.’
“‘I walked all around town, amazed that a bomb that destroyed many lives had set me free. I couldn’t understand. Then I came across a small Tin Lanh church. Beside it sat a modest house, which had its lights on. The sun was just beginning to rise. I knocked on the door, and a man asked me what I wanted. I told him that I wanted to know who God was. I told him about my miracle, about the preacher Vinh, and about the prison cell. Then I pleaded with him to tell me who God was. He did.’
“Quan’s father paused.
“‘I cried out to God, asking if he could perform one more miracle in my life and in the life of my family. I told Him I believed. I was released. The joy came back in my life. The joy I saw in Vinh. I started jumping and yelling and praising God. I had become an old fool like Vinh, and I couldn’t stop singing the songs that Vinh sang, even though I didn’t know what the words were.’
“‘I pleaded with the pastor to come with me. I pleaded for him to come back to my village and teach us about this God of miracles. He agreed. Within a few hours, we came riding into the village on bicycles, and I was yelling at the top of my lungs, “It’s a miracle. God is alive. It’s a miracle.” Everyone thought I was drunk, and they began scolding me for my behavior. But I kept praising God, and I told them about my miracle. Pastor Minh started preaching, and he preached and preached and preached for about three hours. At the end of his sermon, the villagers were in tears, they repented of their sins, and they, too, began to believe.
“‘We spent the rest of the day gathering the bodies from the ridge and burying them. Pastor Minh stayed with us for a week, and then he sent a young preacher to come live with us. That’s this man right here—Pastor Son. He never left us and has been our faithful preacher ever since. We all owe our very lives to that terrible, terrible day.’
“Quan’s father reached over and took Reverend Taylor’s hands.
“‘And now you are a man of God. A man of integrity. We must thank you.’
“‘No, please don’t. Please don’t,’ Reverend Taylor said, shrinking in regret.
“‘God has worked everything for the good. The bad comes so that the good feels that much better. War is a terrible thing full of unimaginable suffering. But it just shows how God’s grace is that much better. We are indebted for that night. Without that terrible tragedy, I never would have had my miracle. Our village would never have known about God’s love.’”
* * *
Reverend Davies stood up abruptly and walked over to the window overlooking the street—his hands clasped over his face, deep in thought. Margaret’s story stirred a whirlwind of emotions inside him. He felt the truthfulness of what she said, but it seemed too fantastic, since there was no way she could have known any of this. Margaret stopped, opened her eyes, and began scratching her head as if nothing had happened. Janice couldn’t quite comprehend Reverend Davies’ reaction.
“Margaret, that is quite the story. You really are a wonderful storyteller. You should write these stories down. How do you just create like this? Just by thinking out loud? Oh, I suppose you don’t have an answer to that.”
She looked over at Reverend Davies, who continued his pensive mood by looking blindly past the traffic below.
“Reverend Davies, are you all right?”
“No, Janice. I don’t think I am. Excuse me. I have to go.”
“But, we haven’t even discussed anything yet.”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I have to go.”
Reverend Davies exited without even grabbing
his jacket from the chair. Janice stayed with Margaret a little while longer but finally decided that nothing had to be done with her in the short term, so she went home until she could get further information from the reverend.
Only one thought kept running through Margaret’s mind: she was finally getting through to someone. It felt good.
Chapter 12
Cheevers and Red Hat
Another email from Mr. Tomsey went unanswered. Two days passed, and Margaret lived off bread and butter, which was nearly all that remained in her dwindling food supply. Another Tuesday evening came and went without going to the market, but she reminded herself that she must remember to go the following week. She had had no contact with anyone over the last couple of days. No calls from Janice, no clue as to what Reverend Davies was thinking, and no sightings of the red hat. She wished the twins would visit but knew she was out of chocolate-cherry-swirl. She sat, bored, picking the lint pills out of the couch fabric. It was looking quite clean.
Slam!
A door in the hallway shut with considerable force. Margaret jumped off the couch and ran to the door, putting her ear up against it. She wanted to see him. She needed to see him. It had been several days, and he continued to stand in a very sensitive situation in the middle of the bank. The armed guards kept their guns on him, calling intermittently to the outside for instructions as he plotted his escape.
Margaret opened the door, and there stood Cheevers, submarine sandwich hanging out of his mouth as he flipped through his mail.
“Wwwohhhw,” a muddled word, juxtaposed with the submarine, came out when he saw Margaret standing beside him. “Wtsorry,” he said, grabbing the grinder in one hand while putting the mail back into his box. “How are you, Margaret? Feeling all right?”
She stared, mesmerized at his hat—the same one she had seen many times before—the same one that took her back to the time when she was a small girl, and her father wore the same cap.
“Red Hat stood flatfooted, ready to speak, ready to move into action. He held the device over his head like a championship cup—a cherished medal that would open the doors of the city.”
“Alrighty then,” said Cheevers feeling a little concerned that Margaret had completely and utterly lost sight of reality. “Well, you have a good day.”
“Red Hat. Your time is coming. It has already passed.”
Cheevers shook his head a little and walked into his own apartment, safe from the crazy rants of his neighbor. But this time, she boldly walked right behind him, mimicking his every move, and sat down at his couch without him even noticing. He was getting a beer from the refrigerator when he heard the ominous sound that made him coil back in stomach-gripping fear.
“Red Hat.”
“Margaret! What are you doing? You scared me half to death. Actually, it was more like three-quarters.”
“Red Hat stared at Officer Galley. The once confident officer could only think of his two daughters, whom he missed very much. He just wanted to be with them, but for some unfortunate incident that he could never have foreseen, he stood face-to-face with the man who had the power to end it all. He shook terribly, and hoped the outside world would give in to Red Hat’s demands—whatever they might be.”
Cheevers sat down immediately and listened to her story. He was drawn in by the daughters. He felt their pain. He could have been Galley.
* * *
“‘All right. Listen carefully,’ started Red Hat. ‘I want a police car. It must have bullet proof windows, keys in the ignition, and a clear path in front of it. I want the H. J. Billings Expressway cleared. I’m going to be exiting at 72nd street and taking Birch over to Dempster. You got it?’
“‘I got it,’ said Galley.
“‘Hey,’ yelled an agent in a navy blue windbreaker and sunglasses, standing in the massive hole produced by the Yo-Yo Yoghurt truck.
“‘Step back,’ said Red Hat, waving his leverage in the air. ‘Don’t try anything. You know what this is?’
“‘Don’t worry. I’m unarmed. I just want to talk. Can we talk?’
“‘Talking is great! Personally, I like it a lot, but I’m a little behind schedule.’
“‘Okay. Let me get right to it. I’m Officer Williams. I’m just trying to understand the situation here and see if we can come to some agreement.’
“‘The situation is crystal clear. Did you hear the instructions I gave Officer Galley?’
“‘I did. I also instructed my personnel to make it happen. We don’t want any trouble.’
“‘Neither do I,’ said Red Hat. ‘I just want to walk out of here, and you’ll never hear from me again. That’s the way it should be. You don’t want a piece of this device. Believe me. I don’t want to set it off either.’
“‘Fair enough. What can I call you?’
“‘Red Hat.’
“‘All right, Red Hat. We are clearing a corridor for you, so you can get over onto Dempster, right? What’s on Dempster?’
“‘It’s my house. I need to say goodbye to my daughter.’
“‘Your daughter?’ Williams asked, still standing on the rubble by the window.
“‘It wouldn’t be polite to leave without saying goodbye to my only child now, would it?’
“‘I suppose not. Where are you going after that?’
“‘It’s none of your concern. Is everything ready?’
“Williams called into his com-unit and verified that all of the instructions had been followed. He nodded at Red Hat.
“‘You are free to go.’
“‘Thank you. I suppose you’ll be following me.’
“‘Do you mind? It’s my job.’
“‘That’s fine. Just stay back as I walk to the car, all right?’
“‘We won’t try a thing. I’m going to take you at your word that you don’t want a disaster to happen any more than I do,’ Williams reassured him.
“‘That’s smart. That’s the way you should play this, and everything will be all right.’
“‘Shall we use the door?’ asked Williams.
“‘After you.’
“Williams walked out the door, followed by Red Hat with the device over his head. A dozen police cars and several unmarked ones stood flashing their lights, announcing their line of defense, which couldn’t stop Red Hat. Williams pointed at an unmarked police car with a flashing light on top.
“‘This is your car. Will it work all right?’
“‘It’s my favorite color.’
“‘Excellent.’
“‘Except one thing. I need your gun,’ demanded Red Hat.
“‘I told you. I don’t have a gun.’
“‘Have one of the officers slowly slide one over to me.’
“Williams hesitated, unsure of the request.
“‘Don’t worry. I’m not going to shoot anyone.’
“Williams nodded at a young officer at the perimeter, and he took his pistol out of the holster and slid the gun over to Red Hat, who picked it up and walked towards the car until he was only twenty feet away. He shifted the device under his left arm, raised and aimed the gun, and fired two rounds at the windshield, which didn’t shatter.
“‘Very good. You did what I asked.’
“‘Of course. We want to get through this together. Can the officer have his gun back?’ reminded Williams.
“Red Hat slid it into his pocket.
“‘He’ll get it back. Don’t worry. I bid you goodbye.’
“Red Hat got into the car, locked the doors, put the device on the passenger seat, adjusted the mirror, started the engine, and took off. His daughter awaited him.”
* * *
Margaret stopped and looked over at Cheevers, who had an expression of disbelief on his face. For a minute, he had forgotten where he was or what a strange set of circumstances had grabbed his attention from an unsuspecting source. He looked at Margaret as if he wanted her to go on. He wanted to hear about Red Hat’s daughter. But she stood up, opened the door, and le
ft. Cheevers felt somewhat empty—a nagging feeling of guilt and uncomfortable pain that he didn’t know quite what to do with. He tabbed open his beer and thought about the rest of the six pack sitting in the fridge. That thought relaxed him.
Chapter 13
Margaret Branches Out
Janice phoned but with no success. Mr. Tomsey desperately needed a manual revised. Mrs. Trumble still walked by Margaret’s door with her nose in the air. Reverend Davies frantically spent two days trying to get answers, and Cheevers spent the last couple of days drinking a little more beer than usual. But it was Mrs. Johnson and the twins that Margaret thought about the most.
Saturday morning arrived, but Margaret didn’t go to bed as usual. She thought only of her story but didn’t feel right moving the narration forward if Pam and Sam were not able to take the journey with her. She waited quietly on her sofa for something to happen.
Suddenly, a revolutionary thought occurred to her. If they would not come to her, she would go to them. The thought of it put a knot right in her stomach, for she couldn’t go empty-handed. With all her strength, she would do it. A daytime trip. Quite scandalous, but she figured she could be back in twenty minutes, if she ran. She went to her closet—such purposeful movements did not come naturally for her—and found a navy-blue warm-up suit with double white stripes down the side. She found her pair of hardly used Stan Smith tennis shoes—the same pair she had in high school. She grabbed a hat—certainly a red one—and snatched her sunglasses and purse. She would go incognito.
She walked out of her apartment and immediately ran into Mrs. Trumble. She felt bolder than usual and asked, “fingers hurt?” Mrs. Trumble gasped and let out something more than a small tirade as Margaret descended the staircase. At the front door of the apartment block, Cheevers was entering and hardly noticed who he nearly ran into until the red hat on her head made it obvious.
“Margaret? You have a red hat, too!”
The Recluse Storyteller Page 12
