The Twelve Commandments

by Jeff Elkins

  The pre-teen turned to face the remaining two Conculos. They seemed frozen with horror. Their drawn swords shook in their hands. Jose raised the blood covered sword with his right hand, pointing the tip toward the terrified beasts. “I am the Gracanjo! And this city is under my protection.”

  The remaining two Conculos chanced a glance at each other. The one on the left reached in a small sack hanging on the right side of his belt, withdrew a coin, and tossed it behind him. A pink portal opened. Cautiously, keeping their eyes on Jose, the two Conculos backed into the opening.

  After a few seconds, the opening in the Veil closed and Jose was alone. He dropped the sword. It clattered at his feet. Jose could feel tears wanting to escape his eyes, but he wiped them away with the back of his hands. He looked at the headless body at his feet. He looked at the dead Conculos in the street in front of him, and he sighed. “I’m a Gracanjo,” he said to himself.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  “Go find the giant statue and look up,” Jose reminded himself as he walked down the wide hallway. The hospital buzzed with life. Doctors in white coats, nurses in scrubs, patients in gowns, and everyday people visiting their loved ones passed him in both directions. No one seemed to notice the sad teen covered in black goop slugging down the hallway.

  He looked right, saw the cafeteria, and stopped to watch people eat. Jose tried to remember how many meals he’d had there. Too many to count. His stomach growled at the memory of their mashed potatoes and chicken fried steak with white gravy. It was his standard Friday night order. He wondered if any of the cafeteria workers would still remember him. How long had it been? Two years? Every day after school for months, his uncle had picked him up and brought him here to be with his mom. A knot formed in his throat at the memory. On Mondays, he ate waffles. On Tuesdays, it was spaghetti. On Wednesdays, meatloaf. On Thursdays, stir fry. And on Fridays, chicken fried steak with white gravy. His mom was never well enough to join him so he would eat alone. He thought back to the nurse named Charlie with kind eyes who’d let him bring his desert back with him into his mom’s room. He’d eat it quietly while she slept, waiting for his uncle to come back and pick him up. It felt strange to miss that time, but for a season this hospital had been a home of sorts.

  Jose continued on down the hall. He was sure there was a shorter route to the statue, but this was the only way he knew. He took a left and then another, slowly weaving his way through the first floor. The walls were covered with large photographs of Baltimore. They were the same ones that had been there two years ago. He remembered wondering where all the places in the pictures were. Now that he’d walked the city multiple times over, he was pretty sure he could put each picture on a map within two blocks of its location.

  Jose arrived at the large wooden doors. They seemed out of place in the modern hospital. They were tall, ornate, and made of heavy oak, while the rest of the hospital was sleek, clean, and futuristic. Charlie had told Jose that the doors marked the entrance to the original hospital from the 1800s. Jose put his hands on one of the doors and pushed. He wondered how many Gracanjo before him had done the same. He wondered if any of them had been as young as he was. The building had stood for over a hundred and twenty years. Surely there had been a Gracanjo his age during that time?

  Jose stepped into the round room. Even from behind, the ten foot tall marble statue was an intimidating figure. The robes of rock were carved so smoothly, they looked like white fabric. The statue’s long hair looked like it might move if a wind filled the room. The broad and powerful shoulders looked as though they could carry the weight of the world. The sight of the giant sculpture filled Jose with a mixture of warmth and regret. He looked down at the squares of the marble floor. He remembered one night, when his uncle had been especially late, he’d counted them. He laughed at the memory.

  Slowly, moving around other passersby, Jose crept around to the front of the statue. He read the inscription on the pedestal aloud. “Come unto me all who are weary and heavy laden and I will give you rest.” The word “rest” was larger than the other words. Jose sighed. He wanted to rest so badly.

  He allowed his eyes to drift up the statue’s sandaled feet. The right was in front of the left, as if the figure was stepping toward you. The feet were littered with flowers and cards – the hopes and prayers of patients and their family members. Jose remembered leaving notes at the feet of the statue. Letters that begged for his mom’s healing, prayers that his mom would be able to come home soon, and then, in the end, prayers that her pain would end. He felt the burn of tears in his eyes again. He wiped them away. He was tired of crying, tired of sadness, tired of feeling helpless.

  Jose sighed and looked up the statue. The sculpture’s chest and out stretched arms looked strong and powerful. He remembered another hospital visitor saying, “Now those are the arms of a carpenter.” He looked to the hands. The small holes in the palms made him think of Chris caught in Bose’s trap, his arms extended, suspended in the air. Jose wondered where his partner was now.

  Jose looked higher to the figure’s face. Like the statue’s the face was not kind or empathetic. It was impassive and confident, assuring onlookers that everything was going to be alright. Jose sighed. He wasn’t sure.

  He looked from the statue to the ceiling four stories up. Three round balconies with wooden rails that matched the heavy door were visible from the first floor. Jose had heard a tour guide once explain that this was where the idea of a “doctor doing his rounds” had come from. Jose had never heard the phrase until that moment, but when he went back to his mom’s room he’d started paying attention. He noticed the doctors trailed by small groups of students moving from one room to the next and the phrase made sense to him.

  “Go and find the giant statue and look up,” Jose said to himself again. The problem was, there wasn’t anyone there. He thought he see someone staring down from one of the balconies, or maybe that the statue was going to come to life. He’d seen stranger things already, but there was nothing. People quietly strolled through the room, pausing to look at the statue, and the security guard sat in the corner at the security desk, but the balconies were just as empty as Jose always remembered them. “Is there another giant statue?” Jose wondered out loud.

  He walked to the side of the room, leaned up against the round wall, and slid his back down it until his butt hit the floor. He watched a mother and daughter come and lay flowers and a card at the statue’s feet, but the statue did not move. Jose rested his head on his knees, closed his eyes, and asked no one in particular, “Now what?” Sleep threatened to overtake him. He could feel it creeping up. He yawned.

  But then, something wet began poking him in the butt. Jumping to the right, Jose looked to see what had soaked his left side. It was a mop. Jose looked up the handle to see a short, chubby man in grey coveralls. The man pointed his chin toward the ceiling as he smiled. He was different. His face was round, his eyes slanted downward, and his smile filled his face. He wore a gray snap cap that matched his uniform. He stopped smiling, looked at the floor behind Jose, and said, “Move please.” His voice was nasally and deep.

  Jose stood. “Watch where you stick that mop,” he said, brushing himself off. A few people in the room took notice, but Jose was too tired to care.

  The man in the gray uniform pushed the mop against Jose’s shoe. “Move please,” he said again.

  Jose’s sock was soaked from the contact. “I said watch it,” Jose complained, kicking the mop.

  “Hey,” a security guard yelled from across the room. “Is there a problem over there?”

  “No Chuck,” the man in the gray coveralls called. He kept his eyes locked on the floor behind Jose, not looking at Jose or the security guard.

  “Alright, big man,” the security guard called. “Let me know if you need me to come over there.”

  “No Chuck,” the man said again. “Just cleaning.” He jammed the mop into Jose’s shoe a second time and gave Jose the same gigantic smile.
>
  “What’s wrong with you?” Jose said in frustration, stepping away.

  The man smiled and shrugged. “I’ve got Down Syndrome,” he said. Then, with the spot now empty, he began mopping the space where Jose had been sitting. “What’s your problem?” the man said.

  “My shoe is all wet,” Jose said.

  “Sorry,” the man said without looking up from his mopping.

  “You don’t look sorry,” Jose said.

  Then he went back to mopping the spot where Jose had been sitting.

  The man stopped mopping and smiled.

  “You know what,” Jose said, stepping on the man’s mop. “I’ve had a crappy couple of days and I don’t like being treated like this.”

  “Hey!” the man said as he yanked the mop away from Jose’s foot. “You stop it,” he said. “This is my mop.”

  “You need to tell me you’re sorry,” Jose said.

  “I did,” the man said. Then he pinched his eyes closed and stuck out his tongue at Jose.

  “Hey,” the security guard yelled again. He was coming toward Jose this time. He was a tall and slender man. As Jose took stock of the guard, he noticed the gun and the radio hanging off the guard’s belt.

  “No Chuck,” the man in the gray uniform said holding up his hand for the guard to stop. “No Chuck,” he said again.

  The guard stopped halfway across the room. “You sure, Ernie?” the guard called. “I’ll haul this little loser out of here if he is bothering you.”

  “Ernie?” Jose said in confusion.

  “No Chuck,” Ernie said. “No, Chuck. Thank you.”

  “I’m right over here if you need me, Ern,” the security guard said as he walked back to his station on the other side of the room.

  “Ernie?” Jose said again.

  The man in the uniform smiled again and pointed to the name on his uniform. On his right breast, stitched in white cursive letters, was the name Ernie.

  Jose felt like the room was spinning. This didn’t make any sense to him at all. How could this janitor be the voice in Chris’ head? How could this man with a mop know the movements of monsters around the city? “You’re my relay?” he said.

  Ernie pointed to the name on his uniform again. “Er-nie,” he said, sounding the name out. “Chris said you are smart,” Ernie said, shaking his head with confusion.

  “I can read,” Jose said defensively.

  “Okay,” Ernie said as he returned to mopping again.

  “No really,” Jose said. “I can read. I like reading.”

  “Okay,” Ernie said, not looking up from his mop.

  “I mean,” Jose said, feeling oddly uneasy. “I know I’m young, but I went to school and stuff.”

  “Okay,” Ernie said again, still not looking up from his mop.

  “It’s not that I couldn’t read your name,” Jose said. “It’s just that... Well… I didn’t’ expect someone like you to be my relay.”

  Ernie stopped mopping. He looked at Jose and shook his head with disappointment.

  “No,” Jose said holding his hands out in a panic. “I don’t have a problem with people like you. I mean, not ‘like you.’ That’s not what I mean…”

  Ernie continued to shake his head.

  “What I mean is,” Jose said, stumbling to find the words.

  Ernie smiled at the floor. “You thought I wouldn’t be so handsome,” he said as he returned to mopping.

  “Um, yeah,” Jose laughed. “Something like that.”

  “All the ladies say that,” Ernie said.

  “Oh,” Jose said with confusion. “But I’m not a lady.”

  “Okay,” he said as he pushed the mop toward Jose again, making Jose move another step back.

  “So,” Jose said with a sigh. “What now? Am I going to start hearing you in my head?”

  “No,” Ernie said. “I only talk to the boss. You’re not the boss.”

  “But, I mean, Chris is gone,” Jose said. “They took him.”

  “Not dead,” Ernie said. He returned his mop to the yellow wheeled bucket behind him. “He’s boss until he’s dead,” he said, squeezing the liquid out of the mop.

  “Oh,” Jose said. “That’s good news.”

  Ernie reached into his pocket and pulled out a plastic sandwich bag. He held it out to Jose. “Here you go,” he said.

  Jose took the bag and looked in it. There was a small flip phone and a business card. He examined the phone first. Opening it, he tried to turn it on by holding down the power button. The cell phone came to life.

  “Only calls me,” Ernie said with a smile.

  “Oh,” Jose said. “Okay.”

  “So we can talk when the boss is gone,” Ernie said.

  Jose hit the contacts button. There was only one name listed on the screen. He read it out loud, “Captain Awesome?” Jose said.

  “That’s me,” Ernie said, pointing at the name on his uniform again. “I’m a super hero. Like batman,” he added with a giant smile.

  “Great,” Jose said. He stuffed the phone in his back pocket and took the business card from the baggy. It looked like it had been crumpled up and then straightened out. He turned it over and read the words Imani’s Place. The restaurant’s address was listed too.

  “Is this the card I threw off the garage?” Jose said in awe.

  “I’m like batman,” Ernie said. “I called Moose and Squirrel. They will meet you there.”

  “Oh,” Jose said with shock. “Awesome.”

  “Okay then,” Ernie said as he turned to his mop. “Go there,” he said and he started pushing the bucket toward the door.

  “Wait,” Jose called.

  Ernie turned, closed his eyes, and threw his hands up in a gesture of frustration. “What?” he said.

  “Thank you,” Jose said.

  Ernie smiled again. “Okay,” he said. Then he pushed his bucket toward the door. “Bye, Chuck,” he called to the security guard as he left the room.

  “See you tomorrow, Big Ern,” the security guard called.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Jose checked the address on the card again and then double checked the address on the door. They matched. This was the place. He swallowed, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and looked at his shoes. They were stained black. If his mom were here to see them, she’d be so angry. The thought made him laugh.

  He thought about going in again. The problem was, he wasn’t sure how Moose and Squirrel would react. Would they be like Carl? Would they call him a worthless disgrace? He didn’t know if he could handle Moose saying that kind of stuff about him. He bit his lip and looked at the sign again. Above the door it said, “Imani’s” in gold lettering. He liked the way the letters curved together. It looked fancy.

  “Maybe she’s got more muffins,” he said to himself as he grabbed the door handle with both hands and pulled. The smell of coffee and baked goods washed over him as the door opened. He stepped inside, closed his eyes, and inhaled. He loved that smell.

  The door slammed shut behind him jarring him back to reality. Jose took in the room. There were all different kinds of people sitting, eating, and talking. The room was pretty full. A homeless man in the corner smiled and nodded to him. He thought he might have seen the man before – maybe a friend of Chris’? Jose nodded back.

  The table in the back caught his eye. Jose slowly made his way across the room, hoping they wouldn’t notice him. Moose and Squirrel sat on one side. Both leaned back in their chairs, Moose with her arms crossed and Squirrel with his hands behind his head. The two Gracanjo watched the pair across from them with suspicious intensity. Across from them sat Bashi and Hyoi. Bashi was playing with a small blue knife. Hyoi was reading a small leather bound book. None of them noticed Jose when he arrived at the table. He watch them for a moment and then said, “Um… Hey everybody.”

  Moose leapt to her feet and wrapped her arms around him. She squeezed him tight and her braids fell down around his head. Jose melted into her hug, his hands hanging b
y his side. “I was so worried about you,” she said.

  “Thanks,” he said sheepishly.

  When Moose let him go, Bashi grabbed him by the shoulders and turned Jose to face him. “You look like you’ve been in the thick of it,” the Conculos said with a smile. His purple eyes gleamed with mischief.

  “What’d you do little man?” Squirrel called as he sat forward in his chair. “You kill some purple-eyed monsters?”

  “I killed two of the Riptride,” Jose said, looking at his shoes.

  Bashi squeezed his shoulders and touched his forehead to Jose’s. “I knew you had it in you,” he said. “Good job.”

  “Their armor can make battle complicated,” Hyoi said, putting down his book. “How did you manage to get around it?”

  “I ran the first one through with his own sword. Then I cut the head off the second one,” Jose said. A small smile of pride formed on his lips.

  “That’s my man,” Moose said offering Jose a fist bump.

  Jose returned the gesture, pulled up a chair to the table, and took a seat. The table was full of recently-filled plates and coffee mugs. In the center of the table was a hand-drawn hexagonal map. At each point of the hexagon there was a small X. At the bottom there was a small arch. Next to the arch were two more Xs, and at the top of the hexagon were two small Xs. Jose studied the drawing with interest.