Never Too Far

by Christopher, Thomas

Although he knew he’d be leaving Mary alone, he also knew he always woke up at first light. He’d been that way as long as he could remember. He simply burst wide awake and leapt out of bed as if he couldn’t waste another minute sleeping and needed to charge into the new day as if some great surprise awaited him. On their journey so far, he’d been up every morning before Mary even stirred. Matter of fact, he had to wake her most of the time and help her into the cab where she slept some more. That’s what made him think he could get back to the room in the morning without her ever knowing he’d been gone.

  Joe was more tired than he realized and before long he fell asleep. He’d only been asleep for an hour or so when a loud whirling sound shook him awake. The noise seemed to be coming right through the stable roof. He covered his head with his arms, expecting whatever it was to come crashing down on him. A bright light flashed through the stable windows and flooded the entrance. Joe thought maybe the young ruffians or the man in the kitchen had told the police about him. Either way, he was ready to make a run for it.

  The whirling sound began to fade. The farther away it got, the safer Joe felt. When it was nearly silent, he realized the noise had probably been from a helicraft. He thought if he acted fast enough he could see it before it was completely gone. He ran outside, not even thinking if it was a good idea or not, and looked into the sky above the rooming house. Floating away into the dark was his first glimpse of a real helicraft. Although all he really saw was a dark object lit with bright lights.

  That excitement soon vanished when he remembered Mary was all alone. No doubt she was awakened by the noise and was now panic-stricken to find him not there. He sprinted to the backdoor, flung it open, dashed through the kitchen, down the hall, and raced up the stairs, two at a time, until he reached the landing. The door was already open. He ran through the doorway and found a man in his underpants shaking a belt at Mary.

  The man yelled, “Shut the hell up!”

  He wielded the belt as if he was going to strike her.

  “Stop!” Joe shouted.

  The man turned. He was the same one from the kitchen, with the mouth ringed with whiskers.

  “Oh, it’s you again. Does this howling dog belong to you?”

  “She belongs to me.”

  “Well, shut her up before I shut her up for you.”

  “It’s okay,” he said to Mary.

  She held the white sheet up to her nose. Her eyes screamed, but she didn’t make a sound. She withdrew her arm from behind the sheet and reached out to Joe.

  The woman with the lumpy face and bruised eye appeared in the doorway.

  “Did you give it to her?” she said. Her voice held a hint of glee.

  “What did I tell you?” the man yelled. “Get back in that room.”

  He brushed by Joe and went into the hall. The woman cowered against the wall and looked up with a pleading face that soon went slack. When the man raised the belt above his head, she closed her eyes, not even cringing. Her face turned strangely serene. The man whipped the belt down across the woman’s chest. She groaned and slumped to the floor while the man brought the belt above his head again to deliver another blow. Joe couldn’t believe he was going to strike her a second time. Joe hadn’t seen any reason for the first one, let alone a second. He dove at the man and grabbed his arm before he was able to bring the belt down on the woman. He hooked an arm around the man’s burly neck and cinched his legs around his waist. The man hunched over, swung around, and slammed Joe against the wall. It knocked Joe loose and he dropped on the floor.

  By that time a crowd had gathered in the hall. Joe saw the proprietor.

  “This won’t be tolerated!” he shouted.

  Another man suddenly emerged. He had curly black hair all over his bare chest. He grabbed both Joe and the other man and dragged them outside into the dark street.

  “You are evicted,” the proprietor said. “Both of you.”

  Joe looked around for Mary. He didn’t see her anywhere. He tried to run back into the rooming house, but the man with the bare chest pushed him to the ground.

  “Hold it. Take your skinny ass somewhere else. You’re not coming back in here. Do yourself a favor and don’t make any more trouble.”

  “I have to get Mary.”

  Then Joe saw her peering out from behind the side of the house. He knocked the man’s arm away and ran to her. He grabbed her hand and they scurried to the stable. He was surprised to find the horses already hitched and the wagon ready to go. He stared at Mary in disbelief.

  Chapter 28

  Joe wasn’t sure where to go now. Through the dark, sour-smelling streets, the lopsided wagon bumped and scraped along the cobblestones. Even though they’d lost the money for the room, Joe was glad to be out. He prayed he could find another place so Mary could finally sleep in a real bed and he could make up for leaving her alone. In some ways, he felt torn. He had to protect the diesel, but he also had to protect Mary.

  The tire rim clunked in a hole. It reminded Joe that he still needed to get a new tire. He didn’t know why he hadn’t asked the proprietor earlier if he knew where to get one. Joe guessed he forgot to ask because he got caught up in everything else that was going on. But he couldn’t have lapses like that. He needed to stay on top of what was necessary. He couldn’t be watching television and lose track of why they’d come here.

  To the south, he saw tall buildings with checkerboard squares of yellow light and towers with more lights blinking red and blue. The area glowed like something white-hot was burning at the heart of it. All the light drenched the dark sky above with a bright dome. It appeared like a different world, like a dream world, a fantasy. Joe knew it was part of the forbidden Green Zone, and he had no business going there, yet he went anyway, hoping they’d get through and find a nice place to stay.

  Joe turned down a dark alley toward the brightly lit buildings. Ahead of them was a gate with a Guardian Party symbol next to a small guardhouse. Maybe going this way wasn’t such a good idea, he thought, especially after a light erupted in his face. He threw up his hands to ward it off. Squinting against the painful glare, he quickly turned the wagon around and trotted away.

  Eventually they passed under a sign that read “Fulfillment District” in gleaming red letters. It led into a raucous street. What he witnessed looked like a festival at first, full of cheers and shouts and music, until he was in the thick of it. Then it was something much different. Drunken men stumbled about, shouting and laughing. Half-clothed women in doorways or on balconies jeered and whistled and flashed their bodies. Neon signs in blue and red and pink sizzled with names like Rodeo Girls, Cats a Go-Go, Sleazy Liz’s, Cheap Sex, Packaged Liquor, and Beer! Beer! Beer! Other signs blinked: “Pleasure is Peace” and “Fulfillment is Freedom.” More slogans to add to the others about security and sacrifice.

  He’d never seen people so drunk like this, acting crazy and out-of-control as if it was all normal. He also couldn’t believe how many people were jammed into the streets and rolling out of bars, brothels, and theaters. The swirling crowds had no sense of propriety. It stood in stark contrast to the way he had been raised. The Prophet Roy Neolin preached, “Simplicity, humility, unity.” He said the flesh should be denied in favor of the community. That’s why Joe wore brown pants and a green shirt that covered all his skin except his head and hands. That’s why women wore long dresses and high collars. Yet here were countless women parading bare legs, bare shoulders, and bare breasts. They all seemed perfectly happy with that, not a care in the world, not an ounce of shame. Joe didn’t know whether to close his eyes to shut it out or keep them open so he didn’t get sucked into it.

  Without warning, a man with a bloody face spilled out of the darkness and reached inside the wagon cab at Joe. He managed to latch onto Joe’s shirt and pull on it. The blood on his face flowed from a gash at the top of his forehead. He smiled as if Joe were an old friend. His eyes were at once glassy and wild. Then he tried to step into the wagon by using Joe to p
ull himself up. He jabbed a knee into the cab beneath Joe’s legs, but Joe fended him off. He kicked the man’s knee out and pried his hands loose from his shirt. He shoved the man back into the swollen crowd. After that, Joe wanted to rush through the rest of the street to get away, but the crush of people made it impossible. It was like slogging through thick mud.

  At the end of the district, away from the noise and lights, Joe found another rooming house and stable. The house had a sagging veranda that wrapped around the front like a rotting old riverboat grounded in some shoals. No one was in the stable, only a few horses in stalls and a fancy wagon painted red. A decrepit motorbike in a far corner caught Joe’s attention, although not enough for him to investigate. He had only one thing on his mind now. First thing tomorrow morning he was going to find the fat man that Frank had told him about, sell the diesel, and get them out of there. This was no place for a human being. Before he left the wagon in the stable, Joe shoved his handmade recorder in his back pocket.

  At the door of the rooming house, he rapped the brass knocker and waited. The door cracked open and a thin line of faint light snuck out before a big eye appeared in the opening. The eye blinked. It blinked again. The door swung open. Standing there was a thin man with an abundance of white hair. It not only erupted from his eyebrows but also shot out his ears and poked out his head like twigs.

  “For God’s sake, don’t just stand there, come in if you’re coming in or get lost,” he said. “Make up your damn mind.”

  After Joe led Mary inside, the hairy man let the door swing shut with a bang, and then he crouched in a chair in front of a small cabinet. He flipped a latch at the top and lowered a panel that rested above his knees as a desk. Inside were dozens of tiny drawers and holes stuffed with old papers that had turned yellow and brown. He pulled out a ledger and thumbed through the pages until he came to the page he was looking for. A buzzing sound started coming from the pocket on his vest.

  “Confound it. Hold on. I got a call.”

  He tugged on a gold chain dangling from his vest pocket and pulled out a small tablet-like device with a glowing screen on it. Joe knew what it was immediately. It was definitely a mobicom. The landlord set it on the desk, tapped his ear a few times and suddenly a wavering image of a woman’s face appeared hovering in the air above the mobicom. It startled Mary. She stepped back and scooted behind Joe. He knew she’d never seen anything like that before.

  “It’s nothing to be afraid of,” he said. “It’s just a picture.”

  “Hi, Margaret,” the landlord said. His voice was surprisingly nice and friendly. “Can I call you back? I’m checking some folks in right now.”

  The wavering image of Margaret made a frowning face.

  “So this isn’t a good time?” she said.

  “No, not exactly. I’m sorry, but I’ll be free in minute like I said earlier today.”

  “Alright, alright. I can wait.”

  “Thank you, dear,” the landlord said.

  The image disappeared and the landlord grabbed the mobicom off the desk and stuffed it back in his vest pocket. Without missing a beat, he turned to Joe and Mary again and barked out, “It’s by the week or month. No day rents, and no negotiations. You got that? You pay it all up front or you hit the bricks.”

  “We only need a room for a couple of days.”

  “What did I just say? A week or a month or nothing.”

  Joe didn’t want to pay for a week, but he also didn’t want go looking for another place to stay. He figured they would have plenty of money soon enough. He dug in his pocket and pulled out his drawstring purse and showed it to the landlord.

  “That’ll do.” He snatched the purse out of Joe’s hand and dumped all the money on the ledger.

  “Hey,” Joe said. “Wait. That’s all we got.”

  Joe yanked the purse back and grabbed at the spilled coins, but the landlord swatted his hand away.

  “Let me count it,” the landlord said.

  “Not all of it.”

  “It might be all of it.”

  “How much for a week?”

  “Let me count it first.”

  “No. How much is it?”

  Someone spoke over Joe’s shoulder. It was a woman’s voice. He didn’t dare look to see who it was because he was afraid the landlord would grab the money when he wasn’t looking.

  “Twenty shekels,” the woman said.

  “Who asked you?” shouted the landlord. “Twenty-five for two.”

  The landlord scooped up the coins, but Joe grabbed his hand and peeled it open first. He looked at the coins and picked a piece out. Then he picked up the few coins left on the ledger. He dropped them in his purse and tightened the strings.

  “Wrists,” the landlord said.

  Joe stuck his arm out and nudged Mary to do the same. As the landlord pulled out his mobicom again, Joe remembered about the tire.

  “What do I look like, a junk yard?” the landlord said.

  “You have to go to the Industrial District, near the lakeshore,” came the woman’s voice again.

  This time Joe peered over his shoulder. He looked into a dusky side room. A dark-haired, dark-skinned woman sat sprawled on a shabby sofa. Beside her was a fireplace with orange flames in it. Her feet rested on a short table in front of her. White stockings were rolled down her dark legs and looped around her ankles. It was hard not to stare. Her arms were draped along the top of the sofa. In one hand she held a cigarette that she brought slowly to her mouth by bending only her elbow and turning her face, as if any more effort than that was too much. After she blew out a stream of smoke, she glanced at Joe through half-closed eyes.

  Just then another woman appeared with her back to Joe. He turned a little more so he could see what was happening. The woman wore a shiny black slip that hugged her wide hips. She walked up to the dark-skinned woman on the couch and sat on the table in front of her. The dark-skinned woman leaned forward. With the flat of her hand she held her cigarette out to the lips of the other woman who took a drag.

  “Don’t smoke the whole thing, Ina,” the dark-skinned woman said. “These aren’t cheap.”

  Ina let go of the cigarette and coughed out smoke while she laughed and patted her chest.

  “Sorry,” she said. “It just felt so good.”

  “Put your eyes back in your head,” said the landlord. “Those are dancing girls. Besides, you got your hands full anyway.” Then he raised his voice. “Eve over there used to be something special, a mistress to a top official in the Ministry of Peace and Security. But she screwed that up. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

  “I can you hear you, Walt,” said Eve. She held the cigarette to her lips, breathed in, and then blew the smoke out in such a way that it fluttered in the air. “You don’t have to shout, either. Give it a rest, why don’t you?”

  “I’m only trying to fill them in on our local celebrity.”

  “They don’t need to know.”

  “You’re just jealous,” Ina said to the landlord, “because you want a piece of that too.”

  “Shut up, fat ass,” the landlord said.

  “Fat ass? Fat ass?” Ina said. “You only wish you could get some of this fat ass.” She leaned to her side, lifted her thigh, and grabbed a hunk of her bottom and shook it.

  “Strumpets,” the landlord said, derisively.

  “Speak up, you old wart,” Ina said. “We can’t hear you.”

  The landlord didn’t say anything after that. He slapped the key down on the desktop and mumbled, “Room 13. Up the stairs and to your right.”

  When Joe reached for the key, the landlord kept his hand over it. The landlord was obviously the kind of person that enjoyed making other people feel small, and as much as Joe wanted to pound his fist on the landlord’s hand to get him to let go of the key, he resisted. He realized this wasn’t a big deal and not worth making a scene over. Little by little he was getting smarter. “Choose your battles.” It was something Frank always said that J
oe didn’t pay any attention to because he thought everything was worth a fight. He was beginning to realize what Frank meant. Not until Joe withdrew his hand did the landlord uncover the key.

  Chapter 29

  Joe and Mary turned in front of the doorway into the room where the two women sat. The strap on Ina’s slip had fallen off her shoulder and she rolled it back up with the palm of her hand.

  When she saw them, she said, “Oh my. That tiny little thing is pregnant. She’s about to burst.”

  Joe didn’t know what to say, or if he was supposed to say anything, although he didn’t like the way she seemed so surprised at Mary’s condition, like there was something defective about her being pregnant. He wanted to defend Mary and say there wasn’t a single defective thing about her. It was none of Ina’s business anyway. But he held his tongue. The last thing he wanted to do was blow their cover.

  Eve glanced at Joe and then flicked her spent cigarette in the fireplace. She tapped another one out from a silver case and struck a match against it to light her new one.

  Joe knew he should’ve just gone up to their room and forgotten about the women, especially since the two “strumpets” seemed to have already forgotten about them, but he couldn’t. He’d never talked to such women before. Until an hour ago he never knew such women existed. Sure, the old hermit Hans talked of “ladies of the night” and traders spoke of “good-time girls,” but Joe never imagined them being this brazen and nonchalant about how they looked and how they acted. Besides, Frank never said anything about “dancing girls” or “strumpets” or even the Fulfillment District. Maybe he left that part out, or maybe they’d gotten way off course in the city.

  Suddenly Ina noticed them again, as if they’d snuck up on her somehow.

  “Did you want to say something, honey?” she said.

  He’d been repressing himself so hard that he finally let go.

  “She’s my girl,” he blurted out. “She’s breech. We’re here to go to the hospital. Give birth. Our folks died of PB. We’re all we got. That’s it. That’s our story.”