The Twelve Commandments

by Jeff Elkins

  Jose couldn’t stand it anymore. He ran forward, almost knocking Chris over, and snatched the food from the woman’s hand. It was still warm. Not bothering to remove the paper, he took a huge bite from the top. The taste of cinnamon and crusted brown sugar filled his mouth. He could feel the explosion of taste in his fingertips. It was heaven.

  “No, no,” Chris said again, still pretending to be drunk. “We don’t need anything. We’re fine.”

  The woman stepped forward, still extending the muffin to Chris. “Really, take it. I’ve got more than I’m going to sell anyway.” Reaching Chris, the woman took his wrist, turned his hand over, and placed the muffin in his palm. “Really,” she said again. “You look like you’ve had--” The woman stopped short. She tried to look Chris in the eye.

  “Thanks,” he said, slurring his words again. He rolled his head to the side, looking down the alley.

  The woman stepped back in shock. “Wait a second,” she said. “You’re not drunk.”

  “The eighth commandment, Jose. Let’s go. Gotta go.” Chris said, still acting the part, motioning to Jose.

  Jose, mouth full of the delicious bread, finally came to his senses. “Oh, yeah,” he said through a full mouth. Stepping over the white box, he moved to join his partner, but the woman grabbed him by the arm. Her grip was firm. Jose looked back at her with fear. His heart suddenly began to ache with a sense of love. It ran down his spine, through his shoulders, and out his fingers. Involuntarily, the spark caused him to release his muffin. It bounced on the sidewalk at his feet. There was a whisper in his ear. A single word from a deep, resonant voice that rip through his head. “Home,” the voice said.

  “You, you’re, you’re,” the woman stuttered, unaware of what her touch had set off in Jose. “You’re Gracanjo,” she said with excitement.

  Chris stood up straight. His fists clinched.

  Jose pulled his arm from the woman’s grasp. His head ached as he tried to process the word he’d heard and the emotions he’d sensed. Shaking off the haze, he spun to face her, hands at the ready.

  “No, no,” she said, holding her palms up in a gesture of peace. “No. It’s fine. I know. I’m a friend.” She took a gentle step backward, away from the deadly pair. “No, see,” she said, reaching down with her left hand to the buttoned pocket on her right thigh, keeping her right hand extended in a peaceful manner. “See, look,” she said, holding up a small wooden circle.

  Immediately Jose recognized the sign. Moose had drawn it for him in the dirt of the woods – a circle with a simple g in the middle, and the word “home” underneath. “Anyone who shows you this token,” Moose said, “is a friend. It means they know and they’re safe.”

  “Oh shit,” Jose said. He never though he’d actually meet someone with the token. Moose said it was rare, that the coins were only given to family members of Gracanjo, that he’d be lucky if he ever ran into one.

  “Where the fuck did you get that?” Chris said. His voice was cold and threatening.

  “I can’t believe this,” the woman said. Her smile looked like it might burst from her lips. “I just… I can’t believe this. Of all the luck.”

  Chris said again, slower this time, with more threat in his voice, “Where the fuck did you get that?”

  “Oh,” the woman said, looking at the coin in her hand. “I always keep it on me. Just in case… Well, I mean, I figured you were in the city somewhere. Every city’s got two, right?” She laughed nervously. “My uncle was, well, he was Gracanjo in Boston. So that’s how I know. Because he lived in our basement and he was—”

  “Piss off,” Chris said. He turned to walk away.

  Jose didn’t know what to do. He was torn between following his partner and staying to talk to the nice woman with the new muffins. He looked back at Chris. His partner was already ten paces ahead, and not slowing. Jose didn’t doubt for a minute his partner would leave him to find his own way to the fight. Frustrated he bent down, picked up the remainder of his muffin, turned, and started after Chris. Walking backward for the first several steps he said, “I’m sorry. Thanks for the muffin.”

  “My name’s Imani,” the woman yelled to him as he walked away. “I’ve got a bar on the east side. In Canton. It’s safe.” She sounded sad. Jose wondered how long she’d waited to meet them and if the encounter had gone as she’d expected.

  “I’m sorry,” Jose yelled again. Then he turned, and ran to catch Chris.

  They walked for three more blocks without a word. Jose struggled to keep pace with his partner’s longer, more determined strides. Finally, after finishing his muffin, Jose risked breaking the silence. “The muffin was great,” was all he said.

  Chris still held his in his right hand. “Huh,” he snorted.

  “Are you going to eat yours?” Jose said.

  Chris shot Jose an angry glance. Then he handed the teen the pastry. “Knock yourself out,” he said. “It’s probably poisoned.”

  “Can’t be worse than the bottom of a dumpster,” Jose said, peeling back the paper as they walked.

  “Why didn’t you want to talk to her,” the teen mumbled through a full mouth.

  “The eighth commandment,” Chris barked. “We go it alone. Don’t talk to them. Don’t get to know them. Fucking commandment eight, Jose.”

  “But she had a token?” Jose said. “Moose told me to trust people with the tokens.”

  “You don’t know how she got it,” Chris snapped. “Maybe she killed someone for it? You don’t know.”

  Jose laughed. He couldn’t help it. The idea that the muffin lady would kill someone for a worthless wooden coin and then somehow figure out what it meant just to meet them for five seconds on the street was comical. “I don’t think she killed anyone for it,” he said with a full mouth.

  “Did you get something from her?” challenged Chris as they stopped for cars to pass.

  It was still pitch black outside. Jose wondered how far off sunrise was. “Yeah,” he said. “I got the word ‘home,’ and a really good feeling. I like her.”

  “Bullshit,” Chris said, not looking down. “You just want another muffin.”

  “It’s a good muffin,” Jose said with a smile.

  “Commandment eight,” Chris said again.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The wind on his face helped calm Jose’s stomach. He leaned forward to let it blow against his cheek. The warmth of the freshly rising sun touched his skin and took his mind off the churning in his gut.

  Chris delivered a sharp smack to Jose’s back, which almost made the teen vomit off the ledge of the balcony. “Told you they were poisoned,” Chris said.

  “Poisoned with goodness,” Jose said, fighting off an acidic burp.

  Chris shook his head. “They’re called commandments. Not suggestions. Not good ideas. Commandments. And commandment eight demands we go it alone.”

  “It was just a muffin,” Jose complained.

  “What do you think I am? Some kind of idiot?” Chris said shaking his head. “This isn’t a game. You’re going to get people killed.”

  Jose leaned on the balcony rail. “I’m sorry, okay,” he said.

  “No. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. It’s not okay.”

  “Do you see anything?” Jose asked.

  “Don’t try and change the subject,” Chris said. He looked down to the brick walkway below them. The Inner Harbor was a horseshoe of shops, museums, and restaurants around Baltimore’s harbor. As the premier tourist area of the city, even at this early hour, there were people walking through it. Rather than running headfirst into the area, Chris and Jose entered a Barns and Noble from the back of the building, went to the second floor, and took up a surveillance position on the balcony.

  “There’s seven of them,” Chris said. “All Conculos in black armor. Wait. There’s a Sinciput too. They’re hard to make out in this light.” Chris leaned forward, straining his eyes. “They look like they’re searching for something.”

  Jose burp
ed again in response to another sharp pain in his gut.

  “Well that’s not good,” Chris said.

  “What?” Jose asked looking over the rail, but all he saw were a waitress and a guy in a suit walking to work.

  “They’ve seen us. The Sinciput spotted us.”

  “Are they coming for us?” Jose asked.

  “No,” Chris said. “They’ve gathered together to talk. Now they’re leaving.”

  “Leaving?” Jose said.

  “Yeah,” Chris said. “My bet is they were studying our reaction time. Trying to figure out how long it would take for us to find them.”

  “So they’re not going to cross?”

  “Nope,” Chris said. “False alarm, Ernie,” he yelled.

  “I don’t… I mean… What does that mean?” Jose asked, confused. He wished he could see on both sides of the Veil too. He felt left out.

  “Nothing good, kid. Nothing good,” Chris replied. He stretched his arms above his head and rolled his neck. “Let’s get our day started the right way,” he said. “Exercise first, then mind, then body.”

  “Fine,” Jose said.

  “Don’t be so sour,” Chris said. “You should be all full of energy after you’re giant poisoned muffins.”

  “Poisoned with happiness and joy,” Jose replied.

  Chris smiled.

  The sit-ups were hard, but for the most part Jose survived their daily exercise routine with minimal pain. The stretching had actually served to settle his stomach a little. By the end of it, he was starting to feel more like himself.

  “Mind before body,” Chis said. The sun was up and the harbor was starting to wake up: people jogged the horseshoe while others made their way to work, group of moms with strollers walked and talked with coffees in their hands, a cop rolled by on a bicycle. Normal routines were coming to life.

  “I’m going to go easy on you today,” Chris said. “You just need to touch ten people in ten minutes.”

  “Ten people,” Jose said with dread.

  “Listen, kid,” Chris said. “This hurts me as much as it does you.”

  “No,” Jose said. “It doesn’t.”

  Chris smiled. “That’s true. It doesn’t actually hurt me at all.”

  “This sucks,” Jose complained.

  “If I knew another way to get you adjusted to your gift, I’d do it,” Chris said.

  “Gift,” Jose said with a grunt.

  “When I first started seeing both sides, people thought I was insane. Hell, I thought I was insane. Trust me, all I wanted to do was close my eyes and block everything out, but you can’t go around your whole life not touching people. The only thing you can do is try and get used to it. That’s what I did. It’s what any of us with gifts have to do.”

  “Fine,” Jose complained.

  “So ten in ten. And try not to pass out this time,” Chris said taking a seat on a bench. He stretched his arms out across the back like a spectator at a baseball game.

  “Try not to pass out,” Jose mumbled to himself in an intentionally poor imitation of Chris’ voice.

  Jose moved into the center of the walkway. He closed his eyes and took a big breath. “Come on,” he told himself. “All good. All good. No bad.”

  “Clock starts now,” Chris yelled from the bench.

  Jose open his eyes. There were three people moving toward him: a twenty-something jogger with a ponytail, a businessman in a purple tie, and an old woman. In his experience, people in ties rarely gave good vibes. The jogger looked focused and intense. He opted for the old lady. Jose took a step toward her. “Excuse me miss, do you have the time?” he said as he reached out to touch her arm as if he were trying to get her attention. He didn’t hear her response. A heavy weight pressed down on his shoulders making his knees shudder. The strange voice in his mind whispered, “Regret.”

  Jose staggered away. He should have known better. The older the person the more opportunity for painful baggage. “Nine minutes,” he heard Chris call.

  Jose looked up. On his left was a woman with a stroller, on his right was a man with a long beard carrying a yoga mat. He reached over and touched the stroller-woman. She pushed his hand off, but not before his head began to throb and his chest became tight. The voice said, “Anxious.”

  Jose put his hands on his knees and breathed deeply. Two bad picks in a row. Surely the next one would be good. He stood, put his hands on top of his head, and took deep breaths. A man walking a dog was coming toward him. As the man passed, Jose touched the man on his arm. His chest filled with steel and his back straighten. He felt like he could run a marathon if he needed too. “Mighty,” the voice in his head said.

  “Seven minutes,” Chris called.

  Jose, reenergized, looked left and right. An elderly, white haired man was walking with a cane five steps to Jose’s right. The man wore a comfortable fitting white button down, brown shorts, white socks pulled up to his knees, and sandals. The man was humming to himself as he slowly shuffled along.

  Jose had a good feeling about this one. He strode toward the man with confidence, excited he might get two strong feelings in a row. But before Jose could touch the elderly man, he was stopped short by a sharp pain in his foot caused by the elderly man jamming his cane into Jose’s big toe.

  “Don’t you dare try and molest me,” the elderly man yelled as he hit Jose across the top of the head with his cane. Jose crashed to his butt in response, holding his head with both hands, trying to fend off the oncoming blows. “Molester! Molester!” the elderly man screamed over and over, swinging his cane with surprising force, pummeling Jose.

  The beating stopped when Chris said, “Is everything alright here?” Jose could hear the smile in his partner’s voice and it made him angry.

  “This pervert tried to molest me,” the elderly man said, trying to maneuver past Chris to swing his cane at Jose again.

  “I think he’s had enough,” Chris said.

  “Pervert is probably going to try and follow me home and molest me in my living room. I heard all about it on the news channel. Perverts attacking old people because they think we can’t defend ourselves,” the elderly man yelled. Somehow he was able to get the cane around Chris and gave Jose a strong shove with it.

  A small crowd was beginning to gather and Jose felt embarrassed. “I didn’t even touch you, old man,” Jose said while rubbing his head.

  “Shut up, pervert,” Chris said turning and kicking Jose. “How dare you attack this poor elderly gentleman?”

  “That’s right,” the elderly man said to the small crowd of concerned citizens. “Molester! Pervert!”

  “I tell you what, sir,” Chris said to the elderly man. “I’ll stay here with the boy to make sure he doesn’t follow you. Why don’t you go on home? No need to concern yourself with this criminal.”

  “You are a kind and generous man,” the elderly man said, shaking Chris’ hand.

  “No worries, sir,” Chris said. “By any chance, did you serve?” Chris added.

  “I was in the Pacific. Edson’s First Raider Battalion,” the elderly man said standing up straighter and lifting his chin.

  “Marine Recon, Afghanistan and Iraq,” Chris said, giving the elderly man a crisp salute.

  The old man squeezed Chris’ arm. “Semper Fi, son,” he said. “Take care of this riff-raff for an old gunny.”

  “Yes, sir,” Chris said.

  The elderly man smiled and began to shuffle away. Believing the drama was over, the small crowd of onlookers dispersed with him.

  Chris turned to face Jose. With everyone gone, Chris had put away the smile he’d put on to appease the mob. “You alright?” he asked Jose, offering his partner a hand up.

  Jose sighed. He took Chris’ hand. The familiar empty feeling rushed through his chest and his eyes stung with tears. “Death,” the voice whispered in Jose’s mind. Chris pulled him to his feet.

  “Sorry about that,” Jose said. “I guess I got cocky.”

  “Not you
r fault,” Chris said. “Seems like it was manageable that time. Is it getting any easier?”

  Jose thought about the first time he touched Chris after training with Moose. He remembered how the feeling had made him want to curl up in a ball and weep from the overwhelming sorrow. “I think it is,” Jose said.

  “Good,” Chris replied. “We’ll try again tomorrow.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The night was alive around them. Three blocks south, cars flew down Franklin Street. Two blocks north a small crowd chatted on the stoop of a corner store, but all Jose could hear was the powerful breathing of the beast hiding in the abandoned rowhome in front of him. The rhythm rumbled in his head: a snort-like inhale, a grunting exhale, and snort-like inhale, a grunting exhale. The monster wasn’t snoring. It was seething.

  “The fifth commandment,” Chris said. He was wearing his light blue polo. Jose had learned on his first day with Chris that Chris kept ten short-sleeve polos in his large, black duffle bag. They were identical, excluding color. Jose remembered Moose joking that she and Squirrel thought the shirts were magic since they never seemed to come untucked.

  “The fifth commandment?” Chris repeated, not taking his eyes off the rowhome in front of them.

  “They fear us. We don't fear them,” Jose recited. The pre-teen’s jaw hurt. He didn’t realize he’d been clenching his teeth.

  “We don’t fear them,” Chris repeated coldly.

  Jose listened to the rage filled breathing. The house seemed to inflate and deflate with each cycle. “What’s it doing in there?” he asked.

  “Trying to figure out where he is. Not everything crosses the Veil on purpose. Sometimes things just fall through.”

  Jose swallowed.

  Chris looked down at Jose and nodded. “We don’t fear them,” he said. “On three.”

  The front door shattered into shards of wood beneath Chris’ fist. Jose leaped through the door to the left. Chris stepped into the darkness and took the right. They stood in their ready positions: erect, on the balls of their feet, fists held loosely at the ready.

  The house was empty except for the monster at the far end. At first, all Jose could see was the beast’s mass. Jose suspected, if it were able to stand to its full height, the thing would near ten feet tall. With the body type of a gorilla but with horns like a bull, the beast’s massive fists stood like pillars on the ground in front of it. Its shoulders spanned walls of the small rowhome. Strapped to its back was a giant shovel. What held Jose’s attention was not the monster’s size. Jose was fixated by the beasts face; but not the large, lower canines that protruded over the beast’s upper lip, and not the beasts two perfectly round, moist, forward facing nostrils. What held Jose’s attention were the monster's small, kind, blue eyes. Like a four-year-old lost in a crowded mall, the thing’s innocent eyes were filled with fear.