The Calling

by Jeffrey Hancock

  After a couple of seconds, she said, “I’ll try, Nathan. I’ll try.”

  “Hearing you say that has brought joy to my heart.” I also took it for a hopeful sign. Maybe with time, my family can bring her out of the cesspool of fear that controls her life. “I have to go, Mrs. Blake.” I gave her the information when we would pick her up for the theater. Turning to home and getting cleaned up, I stopped on the path leading to my half of the duplex.

  “Thanks, Tony. That went better than I hoped. I’ll call you when I need you again.”

  “Sure thing, Nate, See you later,” after he finished talking, he faded from view.

  Wasting no time, I hurried to make myself ready. When I opened the door, Char was there tapping her foot, and said, “You’re going to be late if you don’t put some spring in your steps!”

  “I know. I’ll be quick.” I beat feet to the bedroom where Charlene had already laid out my clothes. I am not a child you need to dress, woman. She had picked out my best suit. It is a slimming black standard three-piece number. She also put out a thin red tie. She does have excellent taste. There was not enough time for a full shower, so I did a birdbath consisting of only my pits, face, and hands. Before I put on any clothes, I applied Charlene’s favorite cologne for men.

  After dressing, I started for the door, but Charlene stopped me, and said, “My father wanted me to give this to you.” She began putting a tie pin on me. “He wore this on most of our fancy daddy-daughter dates. He thought it would be a nice tradition to start. He wants it passed on to Moiraine when she gets married.” The pin was simple and elegant, with a circular base in gold. A ‘G’ was engraved on the face. After Char finished putting it on me, she brushed off some lint on the jacket, and kissed my cheek.

  Exiting the house, I waited until I received the text from Char saying Mo was ready. After pushing the doorbell, Charlene answered. “Is Miss Moiraine ready?” I asked.

  “She is at that.” Char stood aside so I could get the full view of our daughter. “Moiraine chose her own outfit,” Char said. Moiraine stood in the living room like a Hollywood starlet on the red carpet of a world premiere. She wore a dress that was colored in a cross between a light blue and teal. It flowed gently to her ankles. Elbow-length white princess gloves adorned her arms. Displayed on her wrists, hands, and head were an array of her dress-up jewelry. She was trying so hard to look grown-up, it gave me a catch in my throat.

  I said, “M’lady, your carriage awaits.” Mo bowed her head to me as she glided forward to the door.

  Charlene’s smile was beaming as she asked Mo, “Do you have money on you? Don’t stay out too late. You know how I worry.” Char whispered to me, “This brings back so many memories. I’m glad my father convinced you to do this.”

  Turning and smiling at Char, I said, “I’m glad he did, too.” We walked to the car, where I held open the door for her. Moiraine buckled herself into the car seat. It spoiled the illusion of the date a little seeing her strapped into a child’s seat. We left for The Vega Room.

  Pulling the car up to the restaurant, I gave the keys to the valet. I opened the car door for Moiraine, and she exited like a lady. I had to choke back a little laugh as she swung her legs out first then held her hand out so I could help her out of the car. We proceeded to the maitre’d, and he showed us to our table.

  Moiraine glided to the table slowly. She turned many heads as she walked while holding her arms out and positioning her hands so they angled from her wrists. Her fingers were spread delicately. Smiles abounded from all the other diners. More than a few customers put their heads together, whispering, and I received many nods of approval as we were shown to our table. I held Mo’s chair out as she sat.

  The restaurant was elegant and understated. The table was set with fine china and cutlery. Cloth napkins at the table promised a large bill at the end of the evening. A young waiter approached our table.

  “May I take your drink order?”

  “Yes. The lady will have a Shirley Temple, and I will have a Diet Pepsi.”

  “I am sorry, sir. I don’t know what a Shirley Temple is.”

  I must be getting old. “I believe it’s called a Princess Leia now.”

  “Very good, sir. And is Diet Coke acceptable?”

  I grimaced in my mind, and said, “Very well.”

  The rest of our dinner went well. Moiraine was the perfect lady, and I was a perfect escort. As we waited for our dessert, the time I foresaw came near. “Moiraine, please go to the restroom and wait there until I come to get you.”

  “I don’t need to use the restroom, Daddy.”

  “Moiraine, don’t question me; do as I say.” Mo left without any further objection, but I could tell she was not happy at the firmness of my command. I stood as she did, and after she was on her way, I left for the front desk. As I arrived, the man with the long coat came through the door.

  I intercepted him before he reached the maitre’d. The feeling of the world spinning overcame me. Shaking it off, I stood before this young man. A look of determination changed to startled confusion. He stopped dead in his tracks.

  “Dad, how are you here? You died.”

  “Danny, it doesn’t matter how I am here, boy. This isn’t the way.” I heard a voice say this, but it wasn’t my voice, yet it came from my mouth.

  “They have to pay. They can’t do this to people and get away with it. I have to teach them,” the young man said with fervor in his voice.

  “Danny, my boy, you won’t teach anything to anybody by doing this. Taking people’s lives is never the answer. Son, you need to let this go. Please, give me the gun.” I found my arm reaching out to this young man.

  “Dad, I can’t. They have to pay.”

  “This is not the way, son. Please, give me the gun.” Danny began crying, as he reached under his coat and pulled out a pump-action shotgun. My hand stretched out and grasped the gun. The instant Danny released control, my hands began working the gun, ejecting all the ammo. The distinct sound echoed through the restaurant. Danny crumpled into a chair in the waiting room and started crying even louder.

  The maitre’d put his hand on my shoulder. I turned and faced him as he asked, “How did you know?”

  “I had a gut feeling, and he wasn’t dressed for dinner.” I handed the maitre’d the empty shotgun, then retrieved Mo from the bathroom.

  The police came as we ate our dessert. They questioned me along with other customers. They took the poor confused young man away. I hope he gets the help he needs. It is a school night, and it is starting to get late, so I asked for the check. Moments later, the restaurant manager approached us.

  “Sir, I heard what you did. The Vega Room is very grateful. Your meal is on us. Again, with our thanks, and if ever you wish to dine with us again, ask for me personally, and I will see you are given the best table in the house.” He offered his hand, so I stood and shook it. He had a fine strong grip.

  “Daddy, what was that all about?”

  “Nothing important. You ready to go?” Moiraine said she was, so I pulled her chair out, and we left. I gave the valet the ticket for my car. He brought the car quickly. Once more, I opened the door for Mo.

  We came home to Charlene, waiting for us. Char grabbed up Mo and hugged her tight, then spun her around. Char looked Mo up and down as she asked, “Moiraine, are you okay? Are you hurt?”

  “No, Mommy, I am fine. Can I go to bed now? I’m tired.”

  “Of course you can, goodnight.” Mo and I said our goodnights, then as soon as Mo was gone, Charlene rounded on me.

  “Is everything okay? It was on the news. A would-be shooter was stopped by a customer of The Vega Room. The description the maitre’d gave of the customer fit you to a tee. What gives? Out with it.” I recounted the events of the daddy-daughter date to Charlene. “How did you know he was planning to shoot up the restaurant?”

  “I had a premonition, or you can call it a vision.”

  “And you took Moiraine there anyway! M
y God, Nathan, she could have been hurt or worse!”

  “She wasn’t hurt. Like I said, I sent her to the restroom to hide before the young man came in.”

  “I want your promise never to do that again. If you have a vision or whatever it is, you will not take Moiraine on any more of your adventures. Hell, I don’t even like you going on your adventures.”

  “I will not apologize for saving a man’s life.”

  “What about our lives, Nathan?” As Charlene finished her statement, she unconsciously put a hand to her chest.

  “I will never knowingly put Moiriane’s life in danger. You have to know that. Her life was not in danger. I saw to that.”

  “Don’t do it again! I mean it!” Charlene turned and left for bed. Going to bed sounded like a plan. If I am finally going to take care of that parasite in my mind tomorrow, I need to be well rested. I followed my wife’s example and went to a somewhat chilly bed.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Oh, what a beautiful morning… This song from the musical Oklahoma filled my mind as I woke. Okay, Curly, I’m awake. Throwing back the covers and swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I rose from my slumber. Char was still asleep since my musical alarm clock is only a phantom of my mind, not hers. Quietly, I prepared for the day so as not to wake my wife. She deserves the rest.

  I kissed her cheek and whispered, “I started the coffee for you.” A smile cracked her face, but I’m not sure if it was a result of my kiss or the fact I started the coffee.

  It is a free day from my duties at the theater, and I plan to use it to deal with Da’von once and for all. One little slipup in my plan means the Jenga tower of my life will tumble down along with the cast of the show, not to mention Char and Mo. I got a great night’s rest, my belly was full of oatmeal, and I was at peace with what I am to do. I had been dreading this day, but my recent victories have emboldened me. If I wait until he makes his escape, I could be caught with my pants down, mentally speaking.

  I didn’t want to wake Charlene up, but I need her help if this was going to work. After explaining everything I needed from her, I was sure she would refuse. To my surprise, she agreed to do as I asked. Preparing everything took only a few moments. Okay, Nathan, remember, no matter where you go there you are, I thought.

  My mental marionette stood outside the locked room in my mind containing Da’von. With but a thought, I turned the door transparent to my sight. Gazing through the door, I saw the dry-erase board I had left him was covered by some high-level math I didn’t understand. The room was a mess with crumpled papers strewn everywhere, the bed was unmade, and a few food plates were stacked on the table. Most of the food had only a few bites taken. Apparently, he never had called for maid service during his stay. Da’von was stretched out on the bed. The television had been destroyed by one of the chairs which lay in tattered pieces on the floor. I guess he didn’t like Mister Rodger’s Neighborhood. Maybe he would have preferred Teletubbies.

  I knocked on the door and entered. Da’von jumped to his feet faster than I thought he could move. He immediately began rubbing his hand across the dry-erase board, smearing all the work.

  “Sorry I’ve taken so long to return to our conversation,” I said.

  “Finally! I would offer you a seat, but my chair needs a little repair,” Da’von mocked. With but a slight thought, the broken chair was replaced with a new one. If I have to bring him back here, he’ll find one leg a little shorter than the other three. The thought he would become annoyed with the rocking back and forth brought a little joy to my life.

  “No worries. Come with me. I’ll take you to the interrogation room.” Turning my back on him, I could feel the wheels in his head turning with the obvious opening I gave him. We walked a couple dozen steps in my mind until we came to a door. Opening the door, I let Da’von enter first. It was the same room I had created for our interrogation before. It is about 100 square feet with faded olive-green paint. It has a set of chairs and an old metal table. A slight ammonia smell filled the room along with stale skunk and cigarette smoke.

  Taking an exaggerated inhale of air before I said, “Ah, the smell of home sweet home. At least for you until you break, or we arrive at our destination.”

  “I’ll never break. If I haven’t broken after being locked away for months in your mind, I never will.”

  “Point taken. It will be a few hours before we reach your new home. Why don’t we have a little conversation?” I asked.

  “Okay, I’ll play along, but first, where are we going? You said something about a new home.”

  “I guess it will do no harm to inform you. My wife is driving us to an old abandoned salt mine.”

  “To what end, Mr. Clerk Guy?” Da’von asked with a sneer on his face and a slur of his voice.

  “I am finally letting you go. I plan to walk as far into the mine as I can. I will lay the worse migraine I have ever had on you. While you are dealing with that little bit of agony, I will set some nice explosives off and collapse the mine on you. I have it under good authority salt prevents entities, such as yourself, from escaping. You will be entombed for decades, if not centuries. I’ll be dead or too old to care when you escape. You’ll be someone else’s problem then.” His expression didn’t change while I conveyed this information. He is one cool cucumber. I never did like that alliteration. How about a steady snow pea or a firm fennel? I digress.

  “I have no idea if salt will contain me. Have you thought what will happen if your little plan for my entombment fails?” Da’von said with a smug look on his face.

  “I am fairly confident you will kill my family and me.”

  “Oh, more than kill. I will torture them to death in front of your eyes. I’ll start with the old man with the shotgun.” Da’von gave a little chuckle, “Needed another man to save your ass, huh?” When I didn’t answer, he said, “Next, your wife will endure a great deal of suffering. After a time, you will become numb to their pain, I will bring out your lovely little daughter. I will cut her toes off one by one. I will cut her fingers off. Oh yes, I have had a great deal of time thinking about all this. I will use a hot iron to write in her searing flesh the words ‘Daddy’s Little Girl.’ After all their cries fade, I will break your neck in a place where you can still live, but only with the help of machines. You will be unable to move your arms or legs. With your perfect memory, you will spend all the rest of your long days reliving what you witnessed.”

  Screw the plan. I gave him a taste of a migraine. Immediately he fell out of his chair. Grasping at his eyes and ears, he couldn’t decide which sensory input to attempt to block. His efforts availed him not, for I had raised the brightness in this room to the point my eyes started to hurt, and the sound was louder than a jet engine. He writhed for a few moments, then I removed the headache and returned the room to its normal ambience. Da’von climbed back to his chair. I told myself, remember the plan. He is trying to provoke me to look for weakness or an opening. The dick, it kind of worked.

  “Da’von, why did you kill all those people?” I asked.

  “I only killed those who stood in my way. The cops tried to keep me from you. Miss Nosey Nurse tried to warn the doctors. The mother of my shell aided you.”

  “She never helped me. She was afraid of you and told me nothing,” I said.

  “Well, her death is on you. You, on the other hand, I will kill because you delayed me in my holy quest.”

  “What quest? And was it worth the lives of so many people?”

  “Tell me, Nathan, if you kill one person to save five, is it worth it? What about dropping the atomic bombs on Japan? Those two blasts killed over two-hundred thousand Japanese, but if America invaded the mainland, it was believed twenty million Japanese would die along with somewhere between four-hundred thousand to eight-hundred thousand Americans. My choice was no different.”

  “Who did you sacrifice those lives for?”

  “The brave men left behind,” Da’von said as he lowered his head.<
br />
  “What brave men… What?” The room began spinning. I was thrown, along with Da’von, from our chairs. The loud sound of metal crunching filled the air, then blackness. Soon, I felt a prodding.

  “Get up,” the voice of Da’von commanded. Towering above me was Da’von with the look of vindication all over his face.

  Slowly, I started to rise to my feet, but it wasn’t fast enough for Da’von. He grabbed my arm, and violently pulled me to my feet. “What happened?” I asked as I reached up to my head and found blood on it.

  “Look!” The interrogation room was gone. It was replaced with what looked to be a military command center. The room had a large table, no chairs, with a map laid out. Several more rolled-up maps were set to the side, waiting to be used. On one wall was a large screen showing an accident scene. The picture was blurry and didn’t move.

  “I don’t understand. What happened?”

  Da’von answered with the impatience of someone talking to an idiot, “You were involved in an automobile accident.” The vision on the screen moved to show Charlene behind the wheel. She was slumped and unmoving. Trying to reach out to her, I found I could not move my arms.

  Da’von laughed. “Those aren’t your arms anymore. They are mine now.” On the screen, an arm reached out and felt at Charlene’s neck. “Pity, she died before I had a chance to kill her.”

  I screamed, “No!” After a few moments, I asked, “What about Moiraine?” I tried to turn my head to look in the backseat.

  “You are not in control anymore. Like all the others, I have taken over. Ask me nicely, and I may check on your daughter if it pleases me.”

  “Please, I beg you.”

  “On your knees. Swear you will not hinder me, and I will see if your daughter still lives.”