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Chapter 22
Jeff looked away from Laura. Most seats were filled at Bartholomew’s Ale and Coffee Shop at 10:00 p.m. this Saturday night.
A Middle Eastern man, black beard stubble with a brown turban on his head, sat in a comfortable leather chair in a dim area along the wall. He was raising his cell-phone, pushing buttons as though texting, yet conspicuously pointing the phone’s camera lens at college girls studying in short skirts to his left. The college girls were in their own world, eyes glued to calculus textbooks, ears stuffed with earbuds connected to smart phones.
Across from the Middle Eastern man, an elderly man sat with legs elevated on a pillow in a chair. Behind him, a tall man with a brown beard, black sunglasses, and an elegant tan overcoat entered the place.
This guy looked familiar to Jeff. The man had on a white dress-shirt under the overcoat and black dress slacks. The sunglasses were odd given that the sun went down several hours ago, but this was California, with odd people everywhere.
Jeff refocused his mind on pertinent topics. He needed to discover a way to find the girls.
He had already informed his private investigator to search for Ashley now, in addition to Tina. But he had the feeling that the investigator wouldn’t be able to find the girls, unless the man had secret knowledge of the dark. Something much stranger was happening than infidelity, lost property, and whatever else private investigators usually deal with.
Laura had assured him that the girls were safe for now, but wouldn’t say how she knew this.
He had given up questioning her because all he got were enigmatic answers. His anxiety had been making it harder to think clearly, so he had allowed Laura’s assurance to calm him.
He fingered his grandfather’s amethyst crystal in his pants pocket. It hadn’t brought him any luck, but it did remind him of Edward William Holloway and the old man’s calm and confident demeanor.
Sipping the caramel machiatto, sweet syrup and bitter espresso slowly replenished lost carbohydrates and provided caffeine to facilitate rich, perfected plans for the girls’ sake.
Jeff’s eyes drifted to Laura’s delicate hands.
Her fingers clicked away on her laptop computer. “Dictionary definitions of darkness include obscure, mysterious, concealed, or secret.”
He suggested, “We should go there again to find them. Light another candle.”
“But we don’t see the monsters. We need to find another way.”
“How?”
“Suppose knowledge is concealed from you. Would you know it?”
“I guess not.”
“Exactly.” She sipped her mint mocha.
Her lips … he had to look away. She was too beautiful and captivating for him to think clearly. For once, he wished that she were ugly, that she were a man, or that he were a woman. He recalled an unsettling fact from his college days of how males think of sex an average of fifty-two times an hour. Although he was below that number, he wished to be free from men’s testosterone cage.
His eyes locked onto a hanging red lamp that looked like a gigantic drop of blood. But this incited too many images of bloody harm to the girls. He looked over to the counter.
He hadn’t slept for thirty-eight hours. Although this certainly contributed to the degeneration of his mental functioning, he wasn’t about to nap now. However, carrots rested in the display beside the register, and he was hungry. He hadn’t eaten for thirty-four hours, and his mind required nutrients as well as calories to work effectively.
He stood.
The bearded man was at the register, ordering coffee. Jeff noticed the man wore scuffed, black, steel-toed boots. This was strange, given his expensive professional attire. The overcoat made him appear larger than he was, or maybe he was just a big man.
Laura asked, “Would you believe in something you couldn’t know?”
“Huh?” He continued looking at the bearded man. Who wears an overcoat in a warm coffeehouse? It could hide things. It made Jeff uncomfortable. Probably just his frazzled nerves overreacting, but he imagined sawed-off shotguns, Uzi’s, and long pistols hidden away in the material. He sat back down, foregoing the carrots for now.
“Would you?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Look at me, Jeff.” She sighed, slumping in her chair. Her light brown hair partly obscured her left cheek. “If you didn’t know about something, could you trust it was real? Could you believe it?”
He thought for several moments, looking away from her. “Good question.… People have been dealing with that since humans evolved conscious thought. God, right? Some people believe, even though they can’t see him, can’t know for certain about his existence.”
The man with the overcoat and sunglasses went to the condiments area and began to pepper his coffee with vanilla and nutmeg. His head was hung low, making it difficult to see his face.
Laura replied, “That’s interesting, but not exactly what I’m talking about. In the darkness is knowledge waiting to come forth. It’s like walking into an unlit room, even though you couldn’t see the chairs and table, they would still exist.” She paused. “Could you believe in something you couldn’t know?”
“Sure.”
“You’re answering too quickly. Focus, Jeff. If I could light a candle and show you the chairs and table, would you accept it?”
“Of course.”
She groaned in frustration.
“What? What am I doing wrong?” He saw the bearded man replace the lid on the paper coffee cup.
“Look at me."
He only glanced at her.
"It’s more difficult than you’re making it.”
“Huh?” Jeff watched the bearded man shaking the coffee cup, probably wanting to mix the contents more thoroughly.
She snapped her fingers in front of his face.
“I get it. It’s about faith and trust.”
“Would you look at me? Why do you keep looking away?”
“Sorry.” His eyes went to her, despite the real possibility of his intelligent thought vanishing.
“It always begins with darkness because everything else you know is already illuminated. When you begin to explore something unknown, you’re in the dark first, feeling vulnerable, trying to find a way to illuminate the unknown.”
“It’s a strange world we live in.”
“That’s definitely true.” She smiled, her lips curving so deliciously—
—and he, again, had to turn away.
The bearded man walked towards Jeff, his heavy boots slapping hard against the gray tile. “Do you recognize—”
She snapped her fingers in his face again. “Hey, I’m over here.”
He met her eyes. “Do you recognize that man?”
The man was closer, but had his head turned towards the bathrooms, as though he might switch directions and head that way. He reached behind his head and pulled out his long brown hair that had been concealed under the overcoat.
She hesitated. “He does seem familiar.”
“That’s what I thought.”
As the man approached, he turned to face them, took off his sunglasses, and a giant smile pushed up his rosy cheeks. “Hi kids.”
Jeff recalled the bum outside the Block shopping area.
The man had evidently taken a shower, combed his hair, trimmed his beard and hair, and bought expensive clothes and boots. Jeff’s heart beat faster. The coffee shop seemed to shrink as the bum’s overcoat opened and he reached within.
Reaching for what? A gun?
The man spoke, “I know the place and time. Do you?”
“Who are you?” demanded Jeff.
“Learn and be, idiots.”
“What?”
Laura took hold of Jeff’s hand. Hers was cold and tight.
The bum reached deeper inside his overcoat, most likely not for a business card. A machete? No, Jeff guessed, a shotgun. This guy knew the place and time of their deaths because he was going to kill them!
Jeff stood up and grabbed the bum’s arm, struggling to stop him. The man’s coffee and sunglasses spilled to the floor.
The vagrant must have had enough time to work out at the gym, enough money to buy steaks to grow muscles, and enough security at night to maintain healthy sleep to keep his body well-developed, because he easily yanked his arm out of Jeff’s grasp.
Some other customers began to stare. The middle-eastern man began taking pictures with his cell-phone. The girls studying calculus pulled their earbuds out of their ears. The old man lifted his feet off the chair and stood up.
The bearded man retrieved something dark from his overcoat and swung it about so fast that Jeff couldn’t identify it. He tossed it in the air, but all Jeff could see was a black mass. The bum then hid it behind his back and asked, “Which hand is it in?”
“Huh?” asked Laura.
“Which hand?” he said impatiently, like a little boy.
“Left?”
“Wrong!” The bum showed his left hand empty and then pulled his right hand out and set it on the table between Jeff and Laura. It was deepest black in the center and blurring out into lighter shadows on the edges. But it was spreading, growing on the table, as though sucking the wood into it, like a miniature black hole. Black holes were dangerous. This much Jeff knew.
With all his might, he pushed the vagrant back, causing him to fall into the empty chairs near the calculus girls, breaking off wooden legs, clattering them to the ground along with the bum.
While Jeff pulled Laura up and ran with her to the exit, people began to scatter and shout. He glanced back and saw the bum getting up.
Pushing through the exit door, he could hear the man scream behind them, “I’ll kill you!”