LEVI SAT IN a diner booth at eight o’clock in the
morning as rain gently pelted the window beside him.
He had only enough money for a newspaper and a
glass of orange juice, but that was okay with him. “At
least I’m not busting rock or carrying logs from sunup
to sundown,” he thought. His time at the hard labor
camp had left him with a wiry, but strong, physique.
So strong, in fact, that he had to be careful when
shaking hands, lest he break someone’s fingers again.
He spread the paper out in front of him and saw the
headline: Tensions Threaten City, Nation. Levi knew all
about the civil unrest that had been growing steadily
for more than a year since a state senator was shot
dead leaving the capitol building. It was the first act of
many months of violence against government officials,
including a prominent judge who was beaten into a
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coma with a baseball bat in the middle of the street, in
broad daylight. The police started cracking down on
dissenters, and green smoke was not an uncommon
sight during the evening commute. Such news made
the rounds at Hinnom Valley as well, since many of the
anti-government agents ended up serving time there.
Levi scanned past the latest rough-and-tumble
protester spat and began searching the WANTED ads.
Most of the jobs required skills that he didn’t possess.
Carrying or punching heavy things didn’t seem to be a
very marketable trait these days. He considered calling
some old friends, but didn’t have any quarters for the
phone. “Doesn’t matter anyway,” he thought. “I don’t
remember anyone’s number.”
A waitress refilled his glass and offered him a
friendly smile.
“Economy ain’t what it used to be, huh?” she asked,
hinting at a tip.
“They don’t even list addresses anymore. Only e-mail
and phone numbers.”
“Where you been at?” she asked. “You don’t got a cell
phone or nothin’?”
Levi shrugged. “I’ve been away for a while.”
The waitress knew what that meant: convict. “Let me
know if you need anything, okay?” she said, while
backing away with caution.
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Levi nodded, thinking perhaps he’d scared her
unnecessarily. Gotta keep that prison thing less
conspicuous, he reminded himself.
His mind traveled back to that dark place, but his
thoughts didn’t settle on the backbreaking work, or the
lack of quality food or companionship; he thought of
books. Levi had treasured reading. It was his only
source of entertainment during the time away and for
one hour each day he had the leisure to partake in a
classic or two. At Hinnom Valley, inmates would swap
cigarettes and drug needles for barter. Levi, on the
other hand, only accepted books and would take
whatever he could get. He once gave up his dinner roll
for an entire month to an inmate who promised him a
copy of Huckleberry Finn. He ended up settling for the
Cliff’s Notes version of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer.
At least he was in the ballpark, Levi had reasoned.
Levi smiled to himself, lost in a state of reflection. He
slammed down another glass of juice, borrowed a pen
from the waitress, and circled a job posting. Not having
the luxury of a bank account or cash in his wallet, he
walked the few blocks to the address from the ad, just
to save on gas.
Standing in front of a five-story walk-up building, he
saw a sign posted in the bottom-floor window:
Handyman Needed. He poked his head inside the
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doorway to see what the scene was like and to assess
whether or not he’d shown up underdressed. The scent
inside the lobby reminded him of a library; anathema
to some but he greatly enjoyed the aroma of old books.
Levi spotted the top of a bald head inside a door
marked maintenance room. He walked over and cleared
his throat. A man named Russell, who had been
preoccupied with fixing a mop handle, straightened up
to meet him. Levi maintained a bit of distance to avoid
an awkward handshake.
“I saw an ad in the paper,” Levi started.
“Name’s Russell. You got any experience as a
handyman?”
Levi’s mind traveled back to the labor camp where an
inmate, mistaking him for someone else, tried to stab
him with a homemade knife. Reflexively, Levi reached
for the nearest item — a hammer — and slammed it
against the man’s forearm, crushing bones into pieces.
Levi’s thoughts zapped back to the present and he
replied, “I’m pretty good with a hammer.”
“You look strong enough. Can you start tomorrow?”
Russell asked.
“Just tell me what time.”
Levi walked back to his apartment, glad to know that
now he’d be able to afford a meal or two. As he entered
the loft, he saw that the lamp was now facing in a
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different direction than the one in which he’d left it. He
rushed over to the table and saw that another note lay
underneath.
Do not leave the lamp alone. They will come for you.
Be strong. And cautious.
Sincerely, K.S.
Levi felt a sickening dread welling in the pit of his
stomach. This note-leaving mystery person had
managed to enter his room through a locked door, and
was now issuing him a stern warning. Not many things
scared Levi, but something about that particular note
made him uneasy.
“Who is coming for me, and what does that have to
do with this old lamp?” he wondered. “And who in the
hell is K.S.?”
Just as he was getting excited about the prospect of
a new job and the income it would bring, his joy had
been quickly deflated. He spent the night restless.
Around midnight, he got out of bed and opened the
stiff bedroom window. It overlooked a narrow alleyway
where reflections of neon were blinking from the bars
at the end of the lane. He placed a wooden chair
between his bed and the window, propping his feet up
on the sill as he leaned back and tried to relax. He
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then closed his eyes and just listened. Levi tuned his
mind to the noises of the city, the noises of his
neighborhood. Faint sounds of cars in the distance and
an empty bottle rolling down the street, blown about by
the wind. Someone in the next building was playing
Latin music but it was barely audible. The muggy night
air filled his nostrils and within minutes, he was asleep
where he sat. That always did the trick.
• • •
With the lamp safely tucked inside his work bag, Levi
met his new boss in front of the building at nine
o’clock in the morning. Russell insisted on a
handshake, so Levi restrained his forearm muscles to
avoid an accident. Even so, Russell said, “Dang, you
got a grip on you, son.”
If he only knew.
Russell showed him around the building, which
consisted of fourteen mid-income apartments. Levi was
told he’d be responsible for all building maintenance,
from fixing pipes and cracked windows to broken
toilets. His compensation wasn’t much, but it would
allow him to eat twice a day and buy gas. Levi had
once known luxury but it was short-lived; only seven
months, in fact. After knocking out the world
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champion, Junior Martinez, thirty-nine seconds into
the first round, Levi was thrust into the limelight. His
fame shot up quickly, and ended just as fast.
As Russell was busy showing Levi the paint-and-
supplies closet, a woman named Jenny, dressed in a
high-powered executive skirt-suit, entered the hallway
and moved toward the lobby. She saw the two of them
and stopped, a curious expression shimmering in her
eyes.
“Looks like you found a new guy to torture, huh?”
she teased.
“Yeah, but he’s got thick skin,” Russell said. “I think
he’ll manage.”
She waved “hello” to Levi as her eyes inspected him
to make sure he wasn’t too dangerous to have around
the building. Her inspection produced mixed results.
Levi spent the day painting two units that would
soon go on the market. He didn’t have enough change
for lunch so he grabbed a quick meal at the soup
kitchen to fuel the rest of his workday. The soup
kitchen reminded him of Hinnom Valley, with its long
lines and scantily portioned slop on a recycled-plastic
tray.
“After the first paycheck,” he told himself, “there’s no
going back to the soup kitchen. Not a chance.”
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A few hours later, Levi felt a sneaking suspicion that
he was being followed as he drove home from work.
Remembering the instructions from K.S., he reached
for his utility bag in the passenger seat and brought it
closer to his body. He’d been told to guard the lamp
with his life and didn’t know why it was so valuable, or
why he’d been chosen for the task of being its
protector, but he was nevertheless thankful for having
been liberated from Hinnom Valley. If that meant
making this K.S. fellow happy, within reason, then so
be it.
Levi entered his apartment just after nightfall and
noticed a new note on the table. He didn’t like the idea
of people coming in and out of his place at their
leisure, but he was almost immune to the routine by
this point. He lifted the note and was shocked to see
only:
112 Burrows Avenue. Bring the lamp. In Kindness,
K.S.
“What does he expect me to do with this?” Levi
wondered. He was beginning to feel irritated by the
cryptic notes and failed to see why anyone would want
him to haul a useless lamp around the city. But at the
same time, he wondered if perhaps K.S. was ready to
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identify himself. After all, he now had an address. Levi
was tired from working all day but his curiosity won
out. He grabbed the utility bag, which housed the
lamp, and set out for 112 Burrows Avenue.
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