“Sure thing.” Harish kept smiling as he removed his gloves.
“Finish cleaning this up first though. This is more of a priority.” Lucy barely got her last words out before leaving the room.
The smile gradually disappeared from Harish’s face as he pulled the gloves back up. His mind considered the possibilities. There were generally only a few reasons to get called into the owner’s office. He was either being fired, or being praised for doing something exceptional. Most of his collegues would have been convinced they were being fired. In which case, why even bother cleaning up this disgusting mess?
“There’s no point doing a job half-way,” he said. “If they want to fire the guy that made the floors in the washroom clean enough to eat off of, that’s their loss.”
He pulled the heavy duty scraper out of his cleaning kit, and proceeded to remove the worst of the hardened vomit from the walls. Once the walls were scraped and cleaned, he moved to the floor around the toilet. The spots behind the toilet are always the worst, he thought. No one ever wants to reach around back there. That’s where he started, and by the time he was done, every square inch of the place, including the floor behind the toilet, was indeed clean enough to eat off.
An hour later, Harish exited the washroom, whistling to himself. He dropped off his cleaning cart in the supply closet, then headed off to find Wayne, the owner. He’d never actually met the owner before. Lucy was the one that interviewed and hired him. Wayne never seemed to be around the theater very often. He was always off at some convention or something. Harish figured Wayne just wanted to meet the new guy. That made sense. No reason to assume anything more than that.
Harish knocked on the office door, and when no one answered, he tried the handle, but it was locked. Must be gone for the day, he thought. I’ll find him tomorrow.
“Can I help you, son?” came a voice from down the hall.
“Yes, sir, I’m Harish. Lucy said you wanted to speak with me.”
Wayne looked puzzled. “Harish?”
“I go by Harry sometimes,” Harish answered. “Makes it easier for people to remember. It’s a little more American,” he said with a grin. “That’s the name I used on my resume.”
Truth be told, Harish always used the Americanized version of his name when possible. As open-minded as most people could be, there were still those that would discriminate based solely on a name. He hoped Wayne wasn’t one of them. Wayne just stared for a second or two.
“OK, that kind of makes sense now.”
“Sorry, sir? What makes sense?”
“Nothing, never mind, and stop calling me sir. Everyone here calls me Wayne.”
“OK, sir … I mean Wayne. Thank you.”
“Lucy tells me you’ve been doing a great job around here. Been taking a lot of initiative to get things done. I like that.”
“That’s good to hear. I do like it here. It's a great theater. So different than all those new big multi-screen places out in the burbs. Not that I get to them too much. They’re pretty far out, and I don’t have a car. I like watching the older movies. They seem more real, you know.”
“Yes, I know what you mean, Harry. I wish more young people saw things your way. It would make running this place a lot easier. Especially at times like this.”
“What do you mean, times like this?”
“Well, things are tough for a small indie theater like this one, even at the best of times. There’s not really a big demand for foreign films here, but I grew up in Texas, and couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.”
“OK.”
“I really have to focus on what my customers want with a small business like this one, and unfortunately there have been some complaints as of late.”
“Complaints? About me? I don’t understand. I thought Lucy was happy with my work. She said she was.”
“Yeah, no. It’s not Lucy. She wouldn’t say anything like this. It’s kind of hard to say, but I’ll come right out and say it. There are some customers that don’t like being served by someone of your background.”
“My background … I see.” Harish looked down at his feet. “I suppose this means you’re going to have to let me go.”
“I’d hate to do that, I really would. It’s not right, but some people see the world differently these days. Given the way things are, I can't totally blame them even if I don't always agree with them. But, they are paying customers and my profit margins are small enough already. I can’t afford to have people bad-mouthing the theater.”
“So, I suppose I’ll be looking for another job.”
“I was thinking, I just need you to work some different shifts. After-hours and such. Lots of clean-up and some of the dirty work, I’m afraid. The bad thing is, I won’t be able to give you as many hours. At least I can keep you on, and still keep everyone happy.”
“Thank you, Wayne, I appreciate that. I’ll find a way to make it work.”
“You’re taking it better than I thought you would.”
“What, did you think I was, like, going to blow up the place or something?” Harish replied with a grin, then shook his head. “It’s not the first time I’ve had to deal with this kind of thing. I do appreciate you trying to make it work though.”
“It's hard being different at the best of times. You ever consider maybe moving anywhere else?”
“Not really. I grew up in Texas, and I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.”
Chapter 7 ~ Pandora's
Ahmed drove like a man possessed. Possessed of questions, and anger, and frustration. And perhaps, a dash of curiosity. But, the overriding emotion at the moment had to be anger. Why had they waited so long to finally give him a purpose? For so long, he’d been afraid to commit his life to anything. He’d put off committing to a family, a career, or any significant change in his life. For the last 10 years since his mother had died, he committed to what she had asked him to do. Why did they make him wait so long? Why now? He still didn’t even know who they were.
He tore out of the desert, leaving all his gear behind. Everything he would normally need to trek back into the desert next month and dig up another box. There didn’t seem to be a point to it. Now at least, he needed to be moving forward. He felt guilt over his anger. This had been his purpose for 10 years, and now it was finally about to happen. Why be angry? I should be excited, he thought. Finally I get to move forward. Finally, I get to set things right. Maybe now, he could be reunited with the brother that had been taken away all those years ago. Back then it was traumatic, having not only lost a mother, but also his brother. The brother he knew was alive somewhere but with no idea where. Those in charge seemed to think it was better that they remain separated. He never understood that. Why would anyone separate the two remaining members of a family? Was it because they were different? That’s what Ahmed always believed.
They’d always been different, and the world they grew up in never let him forget that. They were ridiculed and persecuted all the time they were together. Then, when finally they were split up, it was like the world stopped knowing they even existed. The trips to the desert were the only connection with his family Ahmed had left. It helped him remember his mother’s face every month. He could still picture her vividly, telling him he was the man of the family. Now, he thought, now I really will get to be the man of the family. I will be reunited with my brother and justice will be served upon our persecutors.
Ahmed arrived at his new home, and pulled into the parking garage with gas guage showing empty. He’d been so consumed with what he found in the box, and his thoughts, that he hadn’t even noticed he was running on fumes. Not even locking the car, he made his way to the dingy basement apartment. Once inside, he locked the door, then dumped the contents of the box onto the kitchen floor.
He’d never in his life seen so much money in cold, hard cash. There had to be tens of thousands of dollars. Maybe even a hundred thousand. It was hard to count because it was in so many small denominations. The b
ills weren’t stacked neatly, they were all just crammed into an envelope. The person who put them in probably didn’t even know how much was in there. It was like they had just jammed as much as they could into it and then sealed the envelope. Also in the box were three bus tickets. One to Houston, Texas and two to a place Ahmed had never heard of. Big Springs, Texas. Whatever could be in Big Springs, Texas? Also in the box was a shopping list for chemicals and other materials that Ahmed was unfamiliar with. There were instructions for assembling the list of chemicals and materials into what Ahmed was sure was an explosive device. The final instruction, highlighted in red marker, was for him to commit the list and the other instructions to memory and then destroy the list.
The box contained two photographs. Ahmed topped the list, and paid no heed to the stacks of money that he dumped out of the envelope. How much cash was there no longer held any interest for him when he saw the face in the photograph. The man in the photograph was much bigger than he’d remembered. He instantly knew, however, who the person was. The picture had to be fairly recent. There was Harish, all grown up. He recognized the features instantly. The shape of his face, the slight crook of his nose, and that scar on his forehead from the bullies in the laneway. Ahmed had no doubt that this was his brother. The instructions on the back of the photograph gave an address, and told him to convince Harish to make the trip with him from Houston to Big Springs.
The second photograph in the box was of a young man in a cowboy hat with two small children, also taken recently. Ahmed flipped the picture over. The writing on the back read, This man is guilty of atrocities against our people, he is your target. His name is Dawson Chambers.
Chapter 8 ~ The Man Cave
It was 5:30 in the morning as Jake walked onto his back deck and surveyed the yard with his new prize possession prominently figuring in the landscape. Maggie hadn’t been too crazy about the idea of building a 1500-square-foot shed in the backyard, but Jake promised to blend it in with plenty of landscaping. It was a pretty nice-looking shed, hardly deserving of the moniker shed. That sounded a little too utilitarian, Jake thought.
Maggie had accused him of building a man cave to hide in when he showed her the plans. Jake had preferred to focus on the practical aspects of the shed. They’d have room for all that stuff you need in case of an emergency, and they could finally make room in the garage for both cars. At least that had been his argument. Maggie had conceded. It did sort of make a lot of sense, to have a little more room, and she knew how much Jake liked to putter around with different projects. Now that he was retired, that list of projects and hobbies multiplied rapidly.
Jake did a lot of the work himself, which kept the cost down. He was pretty handy, but paid some contractors to do the heavy structural work, and to lay the concrete foundation. This shed would be strong and beautiful. He settled on a rustic log cabin look. He didn’t actually build it with real logs, but found some pretty good-looking log cabin siding that would lower the costs and keep maintenance down. The front porch on it—yes, Maggie, every self-respecting man cave needs a front porch—was made out of real wood and timber from the forested lot at the far edge of his property. Playing lumberjack was harder work than Jake had imagined, but it was fun. He figured it helped keep him in shape during his retirement days. Cutting, hauling, and planing the trees took almost as much time as building the rest of the shed. There was no doubt that it gave the building a very distinct look. It was like having a little hunting cabin in his own backyard. I wonder, he thought, what a small pond would look like in front of the cabin? Maybe a plan for another day, he grinned to himself. One step at a time. One step at a time.
He saw a hawk fly overhead, circling a field off in the distance. Those are beautiful creatures, thought Jake. I wonder, he thought, if falconry is a fun hobby? Nah. He shook his head. Finish this project first, then you can think about moving on to the next one. Jake’s head was always swimming with his latest batch of interests, ideas and hobbies. The world is a great place, he thought. So many things to do and try, and now that I’ve got the time I can’t wait to do them all. You won’t catch me walking around shopping malls in my retirement years. I fully intend to make these the best years of my life.
With coffee mug in hand, Jake made his way across the yard and up the wooden steps onto the porch. He ran his hand along the railing, remembering the work it took to clear the trees he used to build the steps. The front porch was bare, but Jake had a few ideas for handcrafting some rocking chairs from scrap sticks and branches that came from the trees he'd chopped down for the porch. That would seem appropriate; keeping the whole tree together, kind of like keeping the whole family together. He turned and surveyed his yard from the shed, looking back at the house. Hmm, he thought, looking at the roof of the house. From this angle, I’ve got some work to do up there. Those shingles never last as long as they’re supposed to. Maybe some solar panels up there after I put on the new roof would be a good idea. The shingles would probably last longer too. I’m sure Maggie would go along with that. Practical, and some cool new technology to play with. She hates when the power goes out, especially when she’s alone.
The door into the cabin was unlocked. The shed was completely empty so far, and besides, he knew all his neighbors. There hadn’t been any real crime in this neighborhood for a long time. Everybody looked out for one another, and whenever a local real estate agent put a sign up somewhere, they all made a few phone calls to let the agent know what kind of neighborhood this was, and what their expectations were. There’s no substitute for good neighbors, thought Jake.
The empty interior of the cabin echoed his footsteps as he walked across the concrete floor with his boots on. The interior walls weren't up yet, so it was still one big empty room. The only windows in the place were the ones facing the porch, and a small one in the door. Those were high-grade, shatterproof, break-in-proof, bulletproof windows. Six large skylights across the roof of the cabin brought in natural light. They were made of the same high-grade glass that he put in the front.
He unrolled the blueprints from under his arm, and laid them out on the floor. There were several large pages, including the overall floor plan, and individual plans for each room. There was also a wish-list blueprint detailing some future expansion plans. Those were still up for negotiations with the budget committee (a.k.a. Maggie) but that was for another day.
He heard the front door open, and Maggie’s footsteps. He shuffled the blueprints around until the wish-list worked its way to the bottom.
“Morning, honey,” she said, giving him a hug and a peck on the cheek. “I figured I’d find you here in your new man cave. Don’t forget, you still have another house that you’re not allowed to neglect now that this one is nearly finished.”
“Oh, it’s hardly finished, Mags.” He wrapped his arm around her. “You know me, there’s no such thing as a project that’s ever truly finished. Just look at all this empty space in here. Do you have any idea how many tools, projects and toys I can cram in here?”
“Oh, I could guess, but I’d rather not. I try not to think about things like that too much.”
“Did I ever tell you just what an awesome wife you really are? Not a lot of guys’ wives let them build such a big toy box in the backyard.” Jake smiled from ear to ear.
“I thought we agreed this was not just going to be for toys, dear. You said you’re going to move all that stuff out of the garage. And don’t forget about all those shelves of canned goods and rations in my craft room. I do understand the need for all this crazy prepper stuff, but I’d really like to reclaim that room.”
“It’s not crazy stuff. It’s just being practical. We both agreed that it makes sense to be self-reliant, now, doesn’t it? It’s part of being a good member of the community. We can’t always rely on big brother to take care of our every little need.”
Chapter 9 ~ Just Another Day
It was one of those really nice days; the sun was shining, the clouds were few and far
between, and the light autumn breeze pushing around the leaves seemed a little ambivalent. Ambivalent in the sense that maybe it was going to die off, or maybe it wanted to be something more. Sort of an in-between breeze. Nothing sinister about that … just nature doing its thing. There’s nothing for sure about nature … there never has been. It’s just human nature to hope for the best. To assume that things will just stay nice and sunny and breezy. That things will always find a way to work themselves out. Just like they always do. The same old predictable status quo that helps us all to sleep at night, wrapped in our protection. The force and might of Mother Nature is awesome and beautiful at the same time.
There’s no doubt that every single person at the airport that day knew what Mother Nature was capable of. They’d all seen it before. Even the little kids. But, we want so badly to trust her … to believe that she won’t hurt us. Why would she? What have we ever done to her … well, that is unless you’re prone to believing those doomsayers that think the world is about to get sucked into a black hole any second. Things have always been fine … or at least close to it. We can’t expect the world to be a perfect place. Sure we complain at the minor inconveniences we have to deal with every day. Traffic jams. Slow internet. Poor cell phone reception. Mom’s apple pie that’s never tasted the same since she’s been on anti-depression drugs. But we wait. We’ve got all the time in the world, don’t we? So those nasty videos take a little longer to load, and we swallow the piece of pie a little quicker than we used to. Mom wouldn’t notice. And Mother Nature certainly wouldn’t begrudge us a little fun in the sun at the airport for a show of old World War II fighting aces.
These guys are amazing. Pilots the likes of which most people here had never seen before. Even the Internet video junkies had to be impressed by the stunts they were pulling off. And, there’s definitely something to be said for watching planes that are human piloted. Sure, computer-controlled planes with a dash of computer-generated graphics in the hands of a competent editor could make your head spin, but where’s the thrill in that? There’s no real danger there. Everyone knows it, even though no one wants to admit it. Watching the latest blockbuster superhero kickass Hollywood film has its thrills. But, we all know it’s fake. Hugely fake. This though. This is the real deal. These guys are quite literally putting their lives on the line to perform these stunts. Adrenaline junkies, the whole lot of them. They love this shit. Even without the crowd watching, they’d still go through it. And the crowd? The crowd loves it as well. While most anxiously hold their breath with clenched fists, watching the narrow misses while all the time hoping and praying the pilots make it to safety … not all feel the same way.
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