Tearing The Shroud

by JM Bray

‘Which is?’

  Vincent smiled. ‘Stretching.’

  ‘Says you. I can touch my toes if I try hard enough, and sit in a chair, and have someone help me cross my legs.’

  Vincent set his gym bag down. ‘It can’t be that bad.’

  ‘I was exaggerating, but only a little. You get warmed up, and I’ll take the pads out,’ Flea said.

  ‘Suit yourself, if you see me doing something interesting, join in.’

  ‘Check.’

  Vincent took off his rain jacket and started with windmills, toe touching, and other basics to get the blood flowing in his muscles. Man he loved this, there was nothing like it. His preliminary stretching progressed to full splits. When he finished, he looked over at Flea.

  He was leaning against the wall. ‘That’s the warm up?’

  ‘Well, yeah, I don’t want to pull a muscle. Gonna be doing kicks today.’

  ‘Eeesh. That just looked painful.’

  ‘It feels pretty good. Once you’re used to it.’

  ‘Okay, so what’s next?’ Flea asked.

  Vincent gave him pads that looked like ping pong paddles. ‘Hold these by the handle, and for now, extend one at a time. After you position it, I’ll kick it. Once you set it, don’t move. I won’t hit you, but if you jerk during a kick, you might get whacked.’

  ‘Gotcha. Wait, what do you mean one at a time, for now?’

  ‘Later, I’ll be hitting two,’ Vincent said without pretension and walked to the center of the room.

  Flea followed. ‘I can hold them anywhere? What if I put it...up here?’ he asked, extending his arm above his head.

  ‘Well, that thing about not moving? Now is a really good time to remember that.’

  Vincent took a single step and leaped powerfully off his right foot, bringing his left knee up past chest height. As his momentum carried him upward, he pivoted his hips in midair and snapped his right foot in a flying front roundhouse kick. The pad flew out of Flea’s hand and across the room. He landed just in front of his stunned friend. ‘You might want to hold onto those pads a little tighter.’

  ‘How do you do that?’

  ‘Lots of training, but focus is the key.’

  Flea looked up to where his hand had been. ‘No matter how I focused, I couldn’t do that.’

  Vincent looked at his feet then back up at Flea. ‘When I work out, especially during combat sparring, everything becomes...simplified and clear. It’s not like regular life. I know exactly what to do.’

  Flea nodded. ‘Life is complicated, but you should try bringing that focus into other things.’

  Vincent blew out. ‘I wish...’

  ‘All right, enough psychoanalysis. Get to work.’ Flea whipped a pad out to his left.

  An hour later as they were packing up, the four young women approached. A blonde with light blue eyes and an abundance of cleavage said, ‘We hope you didn’t mind us watching.’

  Flea looked up from where he sat, exhausted, and stood quickly. ‘No problem, glad to have you,’ he said, with a winning smile. ‘Right, Vincent?’

  ‘No problem at all.’

  A shorter redhead asked, ‘Have you ever thought about going out for cheer?’

  ‘Yeah,’ added another blonde. ‘You’d be a natural.’

  Vincent became flustered. ‘No, I, ah, this is just to keep me in shape.’

  ‘We noticed.’ The redhead smiled seductively. ‘If you change your mind, just stop by. We’re here most mornings.’ They smiled and waved as they departed.

  After they left, Flea asked, ‘What am I, chopped liver?’

  They picked up their bags and headed to their dorm. The rain had stopped, but low-hanging dark clouds still covered the sky.

  ‘Nah, you’re way better than chopped liver. Tuna, maybe? Besides, they were too much for us. How could you even pick which one?’

  ‘Choose wisely.’

  Vincent stopped suddenly. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘Choose. You know. Choose the one you’d have the best shot at.’

  ‘Choose wisely.’ He was transfixed.

  ‘Then again, maybe choose them all.’ Flea slapped him on the shoulder. ‘Not sure how wise that would be, but talk about fun. C’mon, I gotta get cleaned up before class.’

  As they walked, Vincent took a deep breath. ‘Flea.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Can I, um, I need to tell you something.’

  ‘I know, Vincent. I’m your dreamboat, but no, I won’t marry you.’ He shrugged. ‘I mean, you’re a great guy and all, but I’m more into cleavage.’ Flea looked over at him and slowed his walk as they passed the baseball field. ‘What’s bothering ya, man?’

  Vincent hesitated. ‘I had the weirdest dream last night. At least, I think it was a dream.’

  ‘Really? Like the one I had where I was walking on the beach, in a snow parka, and everyone was looking at me so I tried to blend in by eating a pickle?’

  Vincent smiled. ‘No, not like that, serious weird. I saw this light at the foot of my bed. Words appeared, and after I read them, the words answered my thoughts. It was like a conversation.’

  ‘Wow, sounds pretty cool, but it was probably just something you ate.’

  ‘Maybe, but I don’t think so.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because the dream, or whatever it was, ended with what you just said. I wouldn’t have remembered otherwise.’

  Flea dropped his usual casualness and paused on the soccer field. ‘Really? What was it?’

  ‘Choose wisely. The conversation was about making some big choice soon. I’d usually chalk it off, but other weird things have happened recently too.’

  ‘Well, tell me about it. Get it off your chest and we’ll figure something out,’ he said with genuine concern.

  ‘It started when we walked into the game shop...’

  Discussion

  At Flea’s suggestion, Julie and Knife joined them in the dorm after class. It wasn’t Vincent’s first inclination, and his stomach was doing a conga line over it, but Flea was right; they would want to help. Plus, more minds might reveal the answer. The four sat on the floor in a loose circle. After their initial greetings, Vincent told them everything that had transpired. When he finished, an awkward silence hung in the air, lingering like a fifth member of the group.

  Flea took a breath and let it out. ‘Okay...how do we even know the two things are even related? The event in the room just sounds like a dream to me. It’s a vivid one, sure, but still just a dream.’

  Knife nodded. ‘Okay, taking that route — if they are physical manifestations, maybe the moment during the game is too.’

  ‘But, what would cause something like that?’ Vincent asked.

  ‘A lot of things have the potential,’ Knife said. ‘Sleep deprivation, a tumor pressing on part of your brain, any number of neurological disorders. If you add in mental issues you have psychosis or even schizophrenia.’

  Vincent sat back. ‘Wow...okay...that’s scary.’

  ‘But he knew it was happening, didn’t black out, or have seizures,’ Flea said.

  ‘Have you been feeling off?’ Knife asked.

  ‘I’m stressed about school and what I’m going to do with my life. Maybe that’s all it is.’ He shrugged. ‘I haven’t had any paranoia or weird feelings. Well, other than my normal weirdness,’ Vincent said.

  Flea grinned. ‘Normal weirdness. There’s an oxymoron, but it’s accurate. Are you taking any medication?’ Flea asked.

  ‘No, just an aspirin here or there.’

  Flea adopted a stoner voice. ‘So, you ain’t doin’ smack, takin’ H, smoking ganja, riding the white line — ’

  ‘Nope, not a one,’ Vincent said.

  Knife tilted his head and looked at Vincent. ‘The evidence could also point to drug withdrawal.’ He glanced around the circle. ‘If there’s something you’re struggling with, you can trust us.’

  Vincent smiled slightly. ‘I appreciate it, Knife, but no...I’m good in th
at regard.’

  They sat silently for a long moment.

  Flea raised a finger. ‘Narcolepsy.’

  They looked at him with varying expressions of disbelief.

  ‘You know: sleeping sickness. People who have it fall suddenly asleep. Maybe you’re having short dreams.’

  Vincent fought back his laugh; Knife didn’t bother.

  ‘Well, at least it’s an idea.’ Flea crossed his arms.

  ‘You’re right, sorry,’ Knife said, while still chuckling.

  Vincent said, ‘Picking the dice and talking to you and Mr Brown, that’s some heavy sleepwalking.’

  ‘Then rolling up his character,’ Knife said.

  ‘Okay. I said I had an idea; didn’t say it was a good one.’

  Until now, Julie had been silent. ‘Maybe,’ her quiet voice caught their attention. ‘It’s just...happening. People throughout the ages have had things come to them in vivid dreams, visions, or through unexplainable events. Perhaps we’re asking the wrong questions or ignoring what seems impossible.’

  They sat quietly as her words sunk in.

  ‘So,’ she continued. ‘Let’s try that route.’

  ‘Maybe you’re possessed,’ Knife said.

  They looked at him like he’d grown a second nose.

  ‘You are the last person I would expect to come up with that,’ Flea said.

  ‘Sure, many cases of psychosis or other medical issues have been misdiagnosed as possession through the ages.’ Knife shrugged. ‘In my mind, that leaves the possibility that some weren’t.’

  Flea shook his head. ‘So...what then?’

  ‘I have no idea,’ Vincent said.

  ‘Go see a priest?’ Julie asked.

  Knife spoke up. ‘You said that the light in the room felt peaceful.’

  Vincent nodded.

  ‘Did the other two times feel wrong or...’ He shrugged. ‘Evil?’

  Vincent carefully thought back through the moments. ‘No. Not once. Now that you mention it, I always felt peaceful, like everything was as it should be. It was weird, but not bad weird.’

  Julie asked him, ‘Are you a religious person?’

  ‘I grew up going to church; Irish dad, Italian mom. It was kind of a prerequisite. I still go some, but it’s different now.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It makes more sense. Like, when I go, it’s because I want to and...I don’t know. I guess maybe I pay more attention.’

  ‘Do you think there’s a connection somehow?’ Flea asked.

  Julie looked at Vincent kindly. ‘Maybe something’s going to happen and you need to be ready.’

  Again, her words seemed valid, serious, and truthful, so each of the group answered in kind.

  ‘Why me?’ Vincent’s brow furrowed.

  They paused.

  Knife spoke quietly, ‘Why not?’ He looked at Flea and Julie. ‘Have either of you ever met a more honorable person?’ His gaze shifted to Vincent. ‘I’ve only known him since you have and I’d trust him with my life.’

  ‘Heck, I’ve lived with him for a couple of years and you’re right, Knife.’ Flea looked at each of them. ‘I know I joke a lot; it’s what I do. But I’m not joking now. Vincent, if this were another age, you’d be a knight.’

  Vincent lowered his head. It was nearly more than he could take that his friends thought so highly of him. He felt a light touch on his shoulder and turned toward it. Julie’s soft brown eyes met his.

  ‘I trust you. Completely.’ She smiled, leaned in, and kissed him lightly. Just a feather’s touch, and then sat back.

  Vincent couldn’t speak; his heart jumped out of his chest, ran around the room and dove back in. He looked at the guys, expecting a razzing. They smiled and nodded.

  ‘Well done,’ Knife said.

  Vincent’s smile nearly reached his ears.

  Flea set a hand on his shoulder. ‘Unless you’re just plain crazy, it seems we agree; whatever it is, you’re the man for the job.’

  ‘What do I do now?’ Vincent asked.

  Knife shrugged. ‘See what comes up.’

  Flea said with his infectious smile, ‘Then, choose wisely.’

  Chapter 11

  Stocking Up

  Ten Years in the Past

  San Diego, California

  Bill checked his reflection in the Cadillac’s mirror. His makeup was in place, skin medium brown, dark eyes matching his complexion. He put on his sunglasses, adjusted the collar of the silk shirt, stepped out of the car, and slipped on his linen coat. The sun was setting on another beautiful Southern California day, and he was just another well-dressed man out for an evening. He strolled around the corner onto University Avenue. As he passed a jewelry store, he glanced inside. Something caught his eye and he stepped in. The two clerks were speaking with a young man. One of them, an attractive woman in her thirties, stepped away and approached him as he looked into the counter facing the street.

  ‘Good evening, sir. How may I assist you?’

  He turned to her and smiled brightly, his white teeth accented by his tanned good looks. ‘The gold men’s bracelet in the window. Are those hollow or solid links?’

  ‘This one?’ She brushed against his arm as she reached over.

  Ah, so that’s how they’d play this game. He set his hand lightly on the back of her upper arm, as he leaned over the display. ‘Yes, that’s the one.’

  She looked over. ‘These are hollow, but we do have another with solid links at the main counter.’ She straightened and walked away. Her movements and words were each a calculated step of the sales process. Bill understood this, but it didn’t bother him. It was a game he enjoyed playing as well.

  ‘I hope I am not interrupting.’ He gestured toward the young man.

  ‘Not at all. He’s just wrapping up. Buying an engagement ring.’ She slipped around the counter and opened it, bringing up a gold anchor chain bracelet. She placed it on a black velvet pad.

  ‘Ahh, young love,’ Bill said with a smile. ‘Oh, that is very nice.’ He nudged it with a finger.

  ‘You have a very discerning eye. It’s excellent workmanship; handmade by a local artisan; of the finest quality and very uncommon.’

  ‘Hmmm, it is nice. But...’

  ‘Perhaps something smaller, if this is out of your range?’ She started to take it away.

  He placed his hand on the back of hers and looked into her brown eyes. ‘Actually, I was thinking of something larger, heavier. I’ve recently been elevated in life; money is not an issue.’

  Her eyes flashed and she smiled. He could see the pulse in her neck quicken. ‘Very well, let me just set this back.’

  ‘Might we leave it out for comparison?’

  ‘Certainly.’

  The young man left the store, his hopes for the future carried in a tiny box. Bill smiled. Enjoy your life.

  ‘Do you need assistance, Marjorie?’

  ‘No, thanks; I’m fine, Henry,’ she said while setting the second bracelet on the pad.

  ‘Marjorie, might we have him help? Another opinion would be wonderful,’ Bill asked.

  Bill enjoyed watching her thought process. Share her commission or upset the client? ‘Henry, the gentleman would like another opinion for his purchase.’

  Bill asked, ‘So, Henry, which of these might work?’

  ‘If it were for me, I would choose the smaller of the two, but you have larger wrists. The heavier one would be best.’

  Bill tilted his head, considering. ‘Maybe I should get them both? But I’d need a new ring or two to match.’

  Marjorie and Henry glanced at one another. Sales like this didn’t come along often, and it was obviously time for teamwork. ‘Absolutely.’ Henry said. ‘Let me just pull some out.’ He turned to get a large display tray of gold rings.

  Bill extended his left wrist to Marjorie. ‘Shall we try it on?’ he said with a wink.

  She bit her lip and smiled. ‘Putting things on means you get to take them off.’<
br />
  Henry set the tray on the counter. ‘Which of these catches your eye?’

  ‘You’re the expert; pick one you think is best. Besides, my arm is occupied,’ Bill said, with a chuckle.

  ‘So I see,’ Henry said as he looked down. He plucked one from the case as Marjorie worked the bracelet onto Bill’s wrist.

  A pfft sound made her look over at Henry, who was standing stiffly. She looked back at Bill, as the .22 caliber bullet exited the silencer and pierced her forehead. Rather than going through her head, the lightweight bullet ricocheted inside her skull, scrambling her brain. She stiffened, a trickle of blood ran between her eyes and onto her nose; then she collapsed, landing on Henry’s body.

  Bill strolled around the counter, while slipping the pistol into the holster at the small of his back. He carefully arranged Marjorie and Henry so they appeared to be snuggling while taking a nap. Stepping back, he nodded. ‘I do so enjoy my artwork.’

  He took two of the store’s bags and tossed in the bracelets, followed by the rings. Then he quickly cleared out the display cases. ‘Henry, it was kind of you to leave the ring storage unlocked for me. Very cooperative. You see, I am departing soon and need to store up all the resources I can.’

  He walked to the door.

  ‘Marjorie, my dear, it’s been a pleasure,’ he said, as he stepped into the twilight.

  A Passenger

  Eight Years in the Past

  San Diego, California

  It had been a time of growth, investment, and new ventures. Bill sold his home in the Hollywood Hills, netting a nice profit. Then he purchased a beautiful new house overlooking San Diego Bay. The location just felt right. He formed JCorp to oversee and maximize his real estate investments throughout the county, with a property management branch to keep the properties in top condition. To keep his identity private, he represented himself as an employee. He retained a young energetic lawyer, one Theodore Ross, to maintain his estate and pass his growing empire to Bill’s descendants. His investments and business ventures rode the growing wave of prosperity and opportunity in San Diego County. It seemed everything he touched turned to gold.

  Late Thursday night after a land purchase, he was driving south on the 15 Freeway. It’s exciting to be alive.