by Inmon, Shawn
The topper on Cyrus Creech’s misery cake came in early 2017, when he was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. A quick Google search had revealed his likely fate, and in the ensuing months, he had resigned himself to it.
He was lying in bed, working on the project of thinking himself to death, when a strange scene on the television caught his eye. At first, he assumed it was a feed from the set of a movie, with the special effects already added in, because it showed a bomb exploding in the back of a truck while a man seemed to absorb the blast, then release it into the sky. The news program backed that portion of the tape up and played it, back and forth, several more times.
The next video the news program showed had a close up of the man’s face. There are tremendous differences between the human face at age four and that same face at thirty-nine. Nonetheless, a name tumbled from Creech’s cracked lips: Nathaniel. He knew it was him with the same certainty he knew he was dying.
He raised his head up off the pillow and clawed among the medicine bottles, looking for the television remote. He grabbed it and turned the volume up.
“I have a hunch this is all anyone in America’s going to be talking about today,” the newscaster said in voiceover. “That, of course, is Nathaniel Moon, who many are calling The Middle Falls Messiah. What exactly are we seeing here? Is it the kind of miraculous act that hasn’t been seen since Biblical times, or is it all a giant hoax? Too soon to tell.” The replay of the bombing disappeared and the newscaster himself was smiling reassuredly at the camera. “Whatever it is, you know we’ll be right here to bring you the latest. Speaking of that, let’s take a look at our five day forecast with Jenny Miller. Jenny?”
Creech switched the TV off and swung his skinny legs over the bed. He put his feet into his slippers and tottered toward the bathroom down the hall. Seeing Nathaniel, his great white whale, after so many years of searching had reinvigorated him. Yes, he was still dying, of course, but he felt more energy than he had in years.
Cyrus didn’t have a cell phone anymore, so he got the house phone out and began making calls. Fifteen minutes later, he was pleased to know that he still had enough room on his one remaining credit card to book a one way ticket to Portland, Oregon, and to rent a car there.
He went out into his cramped, one car garage, filled not with his automobile, but with the remaining souvenirs of his once-successful life. Boxes of pictures of Creech posing with a string of governors and state senators. More boxes filled with awards – crystal shapes that read “Businessman of the year, 1992,” and the like. Useless, most of it, but he knew what he wanted. He had been lying in bed envisioning exactly where it was that very morning.
Cyrus stepped around several piles and went directly to a black case that sat alone on a shelf. He retrieved it and returned to his bedroom. He sat on the bed with a wheeze. He was energized, yes, but he was still a very sick man who hadn’t walked more than ten steps at a time in months.
He unlatched the box and removed the Walther P99 9mm semi-automatic pistol. It wasn’t shiny black, but instead was a deep, dangerous green. He stroked the gun lovingly.
“I had one job for you, but now I’ve got something new. Let’s see if the miracle maker can truly heal himself.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
After an hour’s drive, Nathaniel and Violet saw a billboard advertising “Clean and Cozy Rooms!” at the Standing Fir Inn, in Cottage Grove, just off the next exit.
“Been a long day, Mom. Let’s pull off, and recharge a little.”
They took the exit, turned right, and drove half a mile away from the freeway, before turning right down a tree-lined drive to a series of small cabins.
“I’d say if someone finds us here, they deserve an interview,” Nathaniel said.
She went inside the darkened office and rang a bell that undoubtedly woke up the proprietor, who appeared a few moments later and sleepily checked her in. If he recognized her last name, he gave no sign of it. At 3:00 am, he might not have recognized his own mother.
Two minutes later, they were in the room, which, as advertised, was both clean and cozy. Cedar covered walls, the kind of generic paintings only found in inexpensive motels, and two relatively comfortable queen beds.
Violet sat on one bed and said, “I know you didn’t have a choice. I don’t know where we go from here, but I’m proud of you. If you had to reveal yourself, you chose the best way to do it. Our Katie is safe at home tonight, along with hundreds of other kids, because of you. If there’s a price to be paid for that, whatever it is, it’s worth it.”
Nathaniel sat opposite Violet. He reached out and took her hands in his.
“From the time I was little—when I found out I could fix people—I knew this would come. I knew I would be faced with an impossible decision. When I was standing there today, and I looked into the eyes of that man, I knew it wasn’t impossible at all, though. It was easy. I’ve spent too much of my life trying to hide this part of who I am. Now, I have no idea what’s next, and that’s okay, too. That’s life, right?”
Violet nodded. “Let’s get some rest, and we’ll come up with a plan in the morning, because I don’t have one now.”
Nathaniel, who normally only slept two or three hours a night, laid down on the bed, closed his eyes, and didn’t move for nearly eight hours.
THE NEXT MORNING, NATHANIEL awoke to find Violet already up and out of the room. He took a shower, then was just facing the prospect of putting the same clothes back on, when Violet returned with two cups of coffee and a big shopping bag.
“Here. Coffee. We’re on the run again, but we can still be human beings.”
“It’s got to be better than what they were pretending was coffee at the police station last night.”
She smiled, then reached into the bag and threw Nathaniel a plastic bag with underwear, another with socks, a pair of jeans, and a powder blue t-shirt that read, in large, block letters, COME AT ME, BRO. “Here, you can change out of your towel. Sorry about the t-shirt. They didn’t have much of a selection. It was either this, or one that said, I’m with Stupid, and I wasn’t going to be seen with you in that.”
“God forbid. Thanks, Mom. Hang on, and you can have the bathroom. I’m going to put on my nifty new clothes first.”
Quick as a flash, he was back out, looking very un-Nathaniel like in his stiff new jeans and tight t-shirt.
“Oh, my,” Violet said, almost able to stifle a giggle. “I believe I am fired from all future clothes shopping for you. And I used to do such a good job of it when you were a little boy.”
“I used to rock those Transformers t-shirts.”
Nathaniel retrieved his belt from his other jeans, then slipped the well-loved flannel shirt he’d had on the day before over the t-shirt and almost looked like himself again. While Violet was in the bathroom, he sat on the edge of the bed and turned the TV on. One of the network morning shows was on, and the first thing he saw was a video of the bomb blast.
Nathaniel leaned forward, interested in how it looked from an objective perspective. It was a wide angle shot of the scene. Across the bottom of the screen, a graphic was displayed—Middle Falls Miracle. The scene played out just as he had remembered it, but Nathaniel had to admit it was interesting to see it from above. The dropped detonator, the brief pause, then the incredible destructive energy of the blast. The network slowed the video down at that point, and Nathaniel saw the beginning of the destruction, before it all turned toward him, like steel shavings rushing toward a magnet.
In the video, Nathaniel watched himself stand completely still, gathering the force of it to him. I thought maybe it staggered me, but no. Interesting.
The focus of the video tightened, so that Nathaniel filled the frame. When he reached for the sky, the camera zoomed tighter yet. His face was alight as he released the energy.
The news show immediately began playing the clip again with expert commentary from someone who said they were a demolitions expert, but Nathaniel flipped away. The
second and third channels were showing exactly the same thing.
Nathaniel switched again. It was a local station, and a pretty, middle-aged blonde woman was sitting across from an older woman. Nathaniel turned the sound up a bit. The blonde woman was obviously the interviewer, as she asked a series of thoughtful questions of the woman beside her.
“And what do you do with the funds you’ve raised?”
The older woman answered, “We are doing our best to diversify our efforts. So, in addition to buying books for youth groups and the like, we have also bought and refurbished an old bus that we can use as a bookmobile to serve areas that don’t have easy access to a library.”
Hmm. An interview segment dedicated to improving literacy among kids in a society filled with more screens than pages? Not your typical local news fare.
The blonde woman turned and looked directly into the camera. “That’s all the time we have today. My thanks to Anna Hendricks for taking the time to come by the studio to talk about your literacy program. It’s a worthy cause, and one I know our viewers will support. Thank you for tuning in, and be sure to stay tuned for the Thursday morning movie, It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World. Hope I got the proper number of ‘Mads’ in there. I hope we’ll see you again tomorrow. I’m Laura Hall.” The camera panned out on a low-tech set. A hand-painted sign over her left shoulder read, “Good Morning, Eugene.” A scroll ran across the bottom of the screen that read, Would you like to be a guest on Good Morning Eugene? Call us! followed by a telephone number.
Nathaniel turned the TV off, just as Victoria came out of the bathroom, toweling her wet hair. She was also dressed in stiff new jeans. Nathaniel noted her t-shirt was plain, however.
“Okay. I think I’ve got our next move planned out,” Nathaniel said. “I’ve got to make a few phone calls, then I’ll buy you breakfast.”
Victoria pointed at the small digital clock between the beds.
“Ah. Okay, I’ll buy you lunch.”
He picked the cell phone that Thomas had provided him, dialed the number he had seen on TV and waited. A woman answered, “KUET television, how may I direct your call?”
“Laura Hall, please.”
A moment later, a young-sounding man answered, “This is Scott, can I help you?”
“Can I speak to Laura Hall, please?”
“This is Scott Neal. I’m Laura’s producer. She’s tied up right now. Is there something I can help you with?”
“Sure. My name is Nathaniel Moon. I was just watching an interview Laura did with a woman about her literacy program. At the end, there was a graphic that said if I wanted to be on your show, I should call, so here I am. I’d like to do an interview with Laura.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Nathaniel clicked the “End” icon on his phone and turned to Violet. “Well, there we go. At first, he told me that it would take them three months to get me on the interview calendar, but then I heard someone whispering to him, and now we’re on for this afternoon. They said they couldn’t afford to pay me anything for the interview. Do people usually charge reporters to talk to them?”
“When they’re the most sought-after interview in the world, yes, they do. Are you sure this is the right thing to do?”
“I’m not sure about much, right at the moment,” Nathaniel said as he thumbed the television back on. As he ran through the channels, he was the topic of conversation on more than half of them. “But I think the horse is out of the barn on keeping a lid on this, Mom.” He reached out and put an arm around her shoulder. “I know that humans don’t like change, but it’s the one inevitable thing in our lives. We need to learn to embrace it.”
“I can handle change, like when the coffee shops stop serving Pumpkin Spice lattes. I don’t like it so much when our whole life get tossed in a blender and someone hits ‘puree.’”
“It’s going to be fine. I want to do this interview. I’ve got a few things I’d like to say, while I have the chance.” He glanced down at his shirt. “Maybe we can try to find a different store on the way, though?”
THE KUET STUDIOS WERE a modest affair, a smallish building in the middle of an industrial area. A sign in front read, “KUET, We Bring Life to Eugene!” Violet looked at the building and said, “My one chance to meet Anderson Cooper, and you choose this little place. C’mon, let’s go in.”
Inside the lobby, there was only one young man there to greet them. He looked to be in his early twenties and was tall and thin with an excess of nervous energy. “Mr. Moon? I’m Scott Neal. We spoke on the phone. It’s an honor to have you here.”
“Is this place always so quiet?” Nathaniel asked, looking around at the empty and darkened offices.
“No, but Mr. Wagner, that’s the Station Manager, wanted it to be as quiet in here as possible when you arrived. He said nothing this big has ever happened to this station. Not even when we had a cameraman up by Mount St. Helens when she blew.”
“That’s very kind. Where are we going to do the interview?”
“In our studio. Laura’s in there waiting for us. She’s been prepping all afternoon. I know she’s anxious to meet you. We’re lucky to have her here. She had her own talk show up in Seattle, but once her daughter was born, she wanted to find a smaller town to raise her in and she settled here. Seattle’s loss is definitely Eugene’s gain.” Scott led them through the building and through a door that opened into the same set that Nathaniel had seen that morning.
Laura Hall was sitting in one of the brown swivel chairs and jotting some notes into a notebook, but looked up when the door opened.
“Mr. Moon, please, come in. I’m Laura Hall. I’m so pleased you’re here.”
“I saw your interview with Mrs. Hendricks this morning about her literacy program. I thought it was very well done.” Nathaniel fished his wallet out of his back pocket and plucked out two twenties and a ten. “Would you be able to pass this on to her? I’d like to support what she is doing.”
Laura looked a little flustered, but accepted the bills and turned to Scott. “Will you see that Mrs. Hendricks gets this? Please, sit down,” she said, indicating the other swivel chair, “and let’s go over the ground rules.”
“Great. What are the ground rules?”
Laura laughed. “No, I assumed you would have some ground rules for me. Subjects or topics that are off-limits, areas that are sensitive for you, that sort of thing.”
“Oh, sorry. I’ve never done anything like this before. I assumed you would be the one to tell me what to do. No, no ground rules for me. I’m open to discussing anything you’d like. This is the only interview I’m going to give, though, so the weight of the world is on your shoulders.” Nathaniel smiled as he spoke this last, but knew it was the truth.
“That’s very refreshing. I interviewed a Eugene City Council member a few weeks ago, and he sent me a six page memo of things that couldn’t be discussed.”
“This is the advantage of living a quiet life, with no political ambitions. I have nothing to hide, and don’t need anyone’s vote. How long do you think this interview will run?”
“I don’t have a set time for it. I don’t like to work off a specific set of questions. I prefer to just have a conversation and see how it progresses. We’ll film the whole interview, but we might edit it for time before we air it. You have my word that we won’t edit it to make it appear that you are saying something you aren’t. We will use short slices of it in promo spots. If you feel like we’ve gone on too long, just let me know and we can wrap it up.”
“Other than the open road, we’ve got nowhere to go other than here, so use me as you will.”
“I have a makeup person standing by. Would you like her to make you up before the interview?”
“Oh my God, no. I can’t imagine it. I’ll be fine. By the way, is this going to be live?”
“No, no. We’ll record it now, then we’ll edit it together with some of the other footage, and we’ll broadcast it as a special tonight.”
; “Perfect. That will give us a chance to put a few miles under our wheels by the time it airs. We have people who want to keep us company, wherever we go. I’ve been hoping that if I take the time to sit down and answer all the questions you might have, then maybe some of the interest will settle down.”
“I’d like to tell you I agree, but I don’t think so. I’ve never seen as much interest in anything as there is in you.” She turned away from Nathaniel and said, “Scott, would you get us some water? If we run long, we might need it. Tell Larry we’re ready, will you?” She turned back to Nathaniel and Violet. “I hadn’t thought, would you like to be part of the interview, Mrs. Moon?”
“No, absolutely not. I’d enjoy watching it, though, if I could.”
“Of course. Scott will be in the production room, if you’d like to watch it there with him.”
Scott returned with a pitcher of water and two glasses, then escorted Violet back out through the door to the control room.
A bored looking man sauntered in and stepped behind the camera. A moment later, he peeked around at Laura and gave her a thumbs up.
Laura looked straight into the camera and said, “Nathaniel Moon interview in 3, 2, 1.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
“Hello, I’m Laura Hall, and I am pleased to have the opportunity to interview Nathaniel Moon. If you’ve been anywhere near a television or any kind of screen in the last twenty-four hours, you have almost certainly seen the video of Mr. Moon’s heroic actions in Middle Falls, Oregon. I’ve been in the news business for twenty-five years, and I think it’s the most extraordinary thing I’ve ever seen.”
She turned to look at Nathaniel. “Thank you for joining us. We are a small-market, local station. Meanwhile, every broadcaster in the world, from CNN to Fox News to MSNBC and the BBC is trying to have a sit-down with you, so I think the first thing I have to ask you is, ‘Why us?’”
