Crusader

by Edward Bloor

  "I think they're great. They really helped the poor people."

  "Yes. It's curious, though. They were not poor people themselves, were they? They only wrote about them. They did not want to actually be poor ... Nor do I."

  Mrs. Knight came up behind him. "So how did it go?"

  Mr. Herman cast a nervous glance at me; then he answered, "They said I sounded good but I looked shiny. Now, what does that mean?"

  "Shiny? Like, your nose? Or the top of your head?"

  "I don't know. They didn't elaborate."

  The two of them walked out together. I hung out by the video dubbing board for another fifteen minutes, messing with Tape A and Tape B, until Bill came through and asked me, "What are you doing?"

  I said, "I'm the new intern."

  He shook his head, annoyed. "There's nothing for you to do here. There's no tour today, so you can leave."

  I said, "Okay. Should I come back tomorrow?"

  Bill nodded grudgingly. Then he watched me walk out—to make sure I didn't damage any equipment. I crossed the street and walked for two blocks until I found a bus stop. When the bus pulled up, the same driver was sitting behind the wheel. He didn't say anything, but I could tell that he recognized me. I stuffed another dollar into the box and rode west to the mall.

  I had crossed the parking lot as far as the first Toby the Turtle banner when I noticed something odd: The glass entrance doors were wide open. As I got closer to the doors, I could tell why. A horrendous smell, like of rotting food, was pouring out of the mall. I covered my nose and continued inside. When I got about halfway to the rotunda, I could see three large fans whirring behind the fountain area. They were blowing the smell away from the food court and toward the mall entrance.

  I saw Suzie standing in the middle of the fountain. She was arguing with Leo. Some of the merchants were drifting around, talking to each other in the area behind the fans.

  When I got close enough I could hear Leo say, "I don't want to be here when you turn that thing on."

  Suzie didn't answer. She just stood there, with the fans whipping her dress and hair.

  I asked Leo the obvious question. "What's that smell?"

  "It's a leak in the pipe. That's swamp gas leakin' in here. Nice, ain't it?"

  Suzie said to Leo, as if I weren't even there, "Leo, can you please just help me to solve the problem? That's our job here. Yours and mine. We need to solve this problem today so that it's gone by tomorrow."

  Leo said, "This problem ain't gonna be gone tomorrow. This system was bad ten years ago and it's twice as bad now."

  Suzie snapped at him, "That is not true! You listen to me: I have had a real plumber in here, someone who actually knows what he's talking about. Someone who actually started the job and got it done in the same day, if you can imagine that. He checked out this system, and he said it was working fine."

  Leo winked at me. "Yeah. That's why we got all the doors stuck open and the fans on."

  Suzie threw up her hands. "Forget it. Just forget it. I can't talk to you. Go back and do whatever it is that you do."

  I arrived at Arcane and immediately froze. Sam was there. I watched from the entrance, and Uncle Frank watched from the register, while Sam read the Crusader legend. He must have sensed our eyes on him because he looked up, pointed at the legend, and asked Uncle Frank, "Do you know what this is about?"

  We moved toward him until Sam, Uncle Frank, and I were all gathered around Crusader. Uncle Frank answered, "It's about the Crusades. Isn't it?"

  Sam shook his head sadly. "It's about somebody's version of the Crusades, yeah."

  Uncle Frank asked, "What are you saying?" From his tone, he seemed ready for an argument.

  Sam paused for a long moment. I expected him to say, Forget it, and walk away, but he didn't. He told Uncle Frank, "I know something about the Crusades. Do you?"

  Uncle Frank eyeballed him. "A little bit. I've read some history. I know that it was a just war."

  "Meaning what?"

  "Meaning we had the right to fight it."

  "'We'? Who is 'we,' Colonel? Americans didn't fight in the Crusades. America wasn't even a country then. It wouldn't be for many centuries." Uncle Frank didn't respond. Sam asked, "Have you ever read the histories of Omar Abu-Rishe?"

  Uncle Frank stood up even straighter than usual. "No. I can't say that I have."

  "What about Shafiq Jabri?"

  "No. Why? What did they have to say?"

  "They said that the Crusades raised the human atrocity level to a new high. They said that the Crusaders were incredibly bloodthirsty."

  "I guess that kind of thing could be said for both sides."

  "Not really."

  Uncle Frank blinked. "Well, it was another era. It happened a long time ago."

  Sam repeated, "Not really. In Arab history, it was just a moment ago. In fact, in Arab history, the Crusades haven't ended."

  "How's that?"

  "The Christians are still fighting the infidel, Colonel, and it's still in the name of the cross."

  "All right. What do you mean, the infidel? Define your terms."

  "The non-Christian people. The Japanese. The Vietnamese. The Iraqis."

  Uncle Frank took a breath, held it, and let it out. "We had reasons for fighting against all of those people. Good reasons."

  "Yeah? And they had good reasons for fighting back." Sam pointed at the Crusader legend. "The infidels sometimes fight back. But they can never keep up with the atrocity level. Can they?" Sam ticked off items on his finger. "The atomic bomb. Agent Orange. Depleted uranium. There's always something new. Right, Colonel?"

  Uncle Frank answered tightly, "Right."

  "But you don't use the new weapons in Europe, against Christians. Do you?" He started ticking on the fingers again. "The Christian Germans don't get the A-bomb. The Christian Russians don't get Agent Orange. The Christian Serbs don't get depleted uranium. No. We save that stuff for the infidel. We can raise the atrocity level on him, because he is less than human, he is the infidel."

  "You're entitled to your opinion, Sam. I don't think history would back you up."

  "Whose history?"

  "The history of the atomic bomb, for one thing. It wasn't ready for Germany."

  "No? But it was miraculously ready for the infidel three months later?"

  "That's right."

  "Do you know, Colonel, that the Japanese were trying to surrender to us? We nuked them anyway. Twice. Just to scare the Russians."

  Uncle Frank smiled knowingly. "At least you said 'we,' Sam. You're part of this country, aren't you? You seem to be doing okay over here."

  "Sure. I'm doing okay, for an infidel." Sam looked at me briefly, as if to acknowledge that I was there. Then he abruptly took off, leaving Uncle Frank to chew over his parting words.

  I didn't see much of Uncle Frank for the rest of the evening. But after we had finished the closing checklist, he did come up to ask, "Roberta, have you had the chicken pox?"

  I nodded. "Yes."

  "Can you ride home with us tonight? I want you to visit Kristin."

  When we got to the car, Uncle Frank told Karl to sit in the back. Karl didn't like that, but he obeyed. Then Uncle Frank explained to me, "Kristin is really heartbroken. And that Nina girl isn't helping matters. She's telling Kristin she's going to need 'acid peels,' or a facelift, or some such nonsense. Kristin's convinced that she's ugly, and that she's never going to be anything else." Uncle Frank's voice thickened. "I tell her it's only temporary, that those red spots will all go away. I have to tell you, though, Roberta, that it's a really bad case. The doctor says she will have some scarring."

  We soon pulled into the driveway. Karl hopped out, but Uncle Frank stayed seated, so I did, too. Uncle Frank didn't look at me, but he started talking to me like he never had before. "That's my beautiful girl sitting in there. I can't believe this is happening to my beautiful girl." Suddenly he hit the steering wheel with the heel of his hand. "Those damn Europeans. They thi
nk they're so advanced! So superior! I left these kids with their mother for years at a time. Do you think she ever had them vaccinated for anything? Or inoculated? No!" He finally turned and looked at me. "You don't think Kristin would ever ... try to hurt herself, do you?"

  I didn't. I said, "No. That doesn't sound like Kristin."

  Uncle Frank nodded in agreement. But he added, "I'm worried, though. She doesn't sleep. She doesn't eat. All she does is cry. Try to feel something for her. Okay?"

  I was confused. "What do you mean 'try,' Uncle Frank? Of course I feel something for her."

  "I mean, try to show it. She needs to know that you feel for her."

  "What? I don't show it?"

  He looked surprised. He told me, "You don't show anything, Roberta. You never have."

  Once inside, Uncle Frank led me to Kristin's darkened room. She was sitting up in her bed, watching a TV set with the sound off. In the video glow I could clearly see her many pustules and the shadows that fell from them. It looked like ants were crawling across her face. Kristin saw my reaction. She said, "You didn't expect this, did you?"

  "It's not so bad."

  "Don't lie, Roberta. I have them everywhere. They're all over my face; they're all over my back. I have them all the way up my tongue." She began sobbing. She applied a towel to her back, like she was patting it dry.

  Uncle Frank spoke from behind me. "Remember what the doctor said, Kitten. Try not to scratch." Then I heard Uncle Frank close the door.

  Kristin hung her head in absolute misery. I stood for a few minutes in the semidarkness. The room smelled stale, like someone had been imprisoned in it for years. I couldn't think of anything to say. I finally thought of, "What do you hear from Nina?"

  Kristin spoke softly, and in dead earnest. "What do I hear from Nina? I hear, in her voice, and in her words, how the world is going to look at me from now on."

  I stood for a little while longer. I dared ask her, "Kristin, you wouldn't hurt yourself, would you?"

  Kristin asked, as if to clarify the question, "What do you mean? Kill myself?"

  "Yeah. I guess."

  She shook her head no. Then she added, "I feel like I'm dead already." After another long pause she told me quietly, "I called my mother."

  "Oh yeah?"

  "Yeah. She's in Munich now. She's training for a new job. She wants to come over as soon as she's done with the training."

  "That's great."

  "Yeah." Kristin strained to see me better in the darkness. She seemed to stare at me for a long time, very intently. Then she said, "What did you do after your mother got killed?"

  The question stunned me. All I could manage was, "Huh?"

  "After her murder, Roberta—what did you do when you didn't have a mother anymore?"

  "I still had Dad. He kept the arcade going for us. Before we lost it."

  "But what about you?"

  I took a step back, toward the door. "What do you mean? I was in school, Kristin, where do you think I would be?"

  "What about after school?"

  "I was in an after-school program, like a thousand other kids."

  "Where?"

  "The Y for a while. The Baptist church for a while."

  "When did your father pick you up?"

  "Right after he closed up."

  "When was that?"

  I put my hand on the doorknob. I hated this. I wanted to ask the questions, not answer them. But I finally said, "He closed early—seven on weekdays, nine on weekends."

  "So then what did you do? You and your dad?"

  I tried to be casual. I held up my hands and shrugged. "We got something to eat, and we went home."

  "Uh-huh. And then did he stay there with you?"

  "Sure."

  "He never went out?"

  I felt like I was pinned against the door, like a pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey. I admitted, "Yeah. He went out sometimes."

  "And who stayed with you then?"

  "I don't know. A baby-sitter. A neighbor. I don't remember."

  "What was your neighbor's name?"

  "Kristin! What's the matter with you? I don't remember the name of every neighbor, or every baby-sitter, that I ever had."

  "Okay. Just name one."

  I shouted at her, "Stop it! I don't want to do this anymore."

  Kristin paused for a moment. She shook her head slowly in the gloom. "Don't get upset. Just tell me: Do you think this ... routine of yours was normal?"

  I tried not to sound upset. "Why are you asking me all these questions?"

  She sat back against the bed's headboard. She stretched her neck and dropped her head down as it had been before. "Because I miss my mother."

  THURSDAY, THE 21ST

  When I came into the kitchen this morning, I found an envelope on the counter that said To Roberta. I put a Pop-Tart in the toaster, sat down, and opened it. The front of the card featured the words To a Special Daughter in red letters. The cover art showed a box wrapped in silver paper with a red ribbon. Inside the card the box was opened, and the words A Special Birthday Wish were spilling out, again in red letters. At the bottom, written in Dad's large handwriting, was Love, Dad and Suzie.

  The Pop-Tart popped up. I grabbed it with a paper towel and sat back down to examine the card further. It had probably come from Lombardo's Drugs. Neither Dad nor Suzie would ever go into Isabel's Hallmark. If they had, though, they would have found cards like this in the juvenile section.

  I heard a noise in Dad's room. I listened and caught a trace of Suzie's voice. This was way too early for either Dad or Suzie to be up. I had hoped to get out the door without seeing them, but apparently their plan was to get up early and catch me.

  Suzie stumbled into the kitchen wearing a pair of jeans and a Marriott T-shirt. Her hair was pressed to one side of her head; her face looked really pale. Dad followed in his cutoff shorts. He looked fine, like he was ready to go, ready to pack up his board and go surfing.

  Dad smiled and said, "Happy birthday, honey!"

  "Thanks."

  "Listen, there's been a slight change of plans. I hope it's okay. Suzie just got a call about another fund-raiser for Mr. Lyons tonight. What we would like to do, if it's okay with you, is go out and celebrate on Sunday night at any restaurant you like. Anywhere at all."

  I surprised myself with my answer. "I know where I want to go."

  "Where?"

  "The Greek Isles Family Restaurant."

  Suzie covered a yawn. "Where's that?"

  "It's on the Strip."

  A brief flicker crossed Dad's eyes. He said, "Sure, honey. I think I know where that is. Why do you want to go there?"

  "I'd like to try Greek food."

  Suzie said, "Greek sounds good."

  "All right!" Dad clapped his hands together. "Sounds like we're all set."

  When I got home from school I found two more birthday cards in my mailbox, but these were nice ones. Mrs. Roman had sent a Hallmark card with a cool red sports car on the front. Inside was a ten-dollar bill and the words, Happy Birthday, Roberta Darling, Love, Millie Roman. Mrs. Weiss sent a Hallmark, too, with a white dove on the front. It had a hundred-dollar bill in it and the words, Spend this on something important, like yourself. Happy sweet sixteen. Love, Isabel.

  I stared in wonder at the hundred-dollar bill. I had seen such bills at Arcane, but I had never owned one. It looked like play money.

  Once I got into the kitchen, I folded the hundred-dollar bill several times and stuck it inside my wallet. I set the two expensive cards out on the table, next to the cheap one from Dad and Suzie. Then it was time to leave. I picked up my backpack and headed out to the bus stop for another day as a TV intern.

  I had only been waiting at the bus stop for a minute, absently watching the traffic speed by, when I spotted a familiar car. It was Uncle Frank's silver Volkswagen. Apparently the driver spotted me, too. The car stopped suddenly, and dangerously, in the left lane. Then it whipped around in a U-turn and sped back in the other di
rection. Now I could see who was in it: Karl was at the wheel, and Hawg was next to him. The car repeated the same U-turn maneuver down the road and pulled up right in front of me at the bus stop.

  Karl called through the passenger-side window, "You want a ride, cuz?"

  I looked in at Hawg, but he wouldn't look back. He said to Karl, "We gonna go or ain't we, Karl?"

  Karl told him, "Yeah. Yeah. We're going. I just have to help my cousin out here." He looked back at me. "Where are you heading?"

  "I'm going to the Channel Fifty-seven Studios. It's straight down Everglades to Fiftieth Street."

  "Well, hop in!"

  Hawg had to lean forward so I could squeeze into the backseat. I could tell he didn't like that much. Karl pushed down on the accelerator and we sped off.

  We careened down Everglades Boulevard. Karl yelled back to me, "I bet this beats taking the bus."

  I tried to catch Karl's eye in the rearview mirror, but he didn't seem to be using it. I yelled up, "So where are you guys going?"

  Hawg looked over at Karl. Karl answered, "Let's just say we got a plan, cuz."

  I saw the studios ahead. I told him, "Here. Drop me off at this light."

  Karl squealed around the corner, turned the wheel hard, and jammed to a halt. Hawg leaned forward again to let me squeeze out. I turned to thank Karl, but he accelerated away before Hawg could even get the door closed.

  I found myself on the side street next to the studio's parking lot. I noticed a large sand-colored structure on the other side of the lot. I could see from the high pitch of its roof, and from its size, that it was a renovated church. The sign over the front door made me stop still in amazement. It read, THE ETERNAL WORD STUDIOS—HOME OF THE LAST JUDGMENT TELEVISION SHOW. I'd never expected that Stephen Cross broadcast from there, so close to me. I said, "Huh," out loud.

  Arcane was dead when I got there today, and it didn't get much livelier at night. Neither Karl nor Hawg showed up, so Ironman kept away, too. Uncle Frank and I took care of the few scattered customers. Most of them did the Crusader experience. Uncle Frank asked me, "What are the numbers on Crusader?"