by Matthew Buza
1978
Isaac's lungs pulled against the cool evening as his feet pounded the polyurethane track. The sweat poured down his neck forming a sunken V across his purple university shirt. He shared the track with another student. They punished themselves on a series of endless loops, running on opposite sides, mindlessly chasing each other under the darkening sky.
The yellow track lights illuminated the running paths and the center field. This was an optimal time with the least amount of people. For months he carefully walked by the track field examining and taking mental notes to find the time where he could be alone. He hated running, but it had proven the only way to keep his weight in check. Mainly he hated how he looked when he ran, how he smelled when he finished, and how he panted like a dog. He knew he had laughable form, from the slapping sound his feet made to his nervous and uncontrollable arm motions. He was a mess on the track. But at least no one was there to see it.
Inside his mind, he counted as he crossed the finishing line. Each lap tallied against some fictitious number in his mind. Each time around signified another magical moment where he proved to himself he was worthy. After all that had occurred in the past week, Isaac knew tonight would be a rough night. His mind flashed the number twenty repeatedly like some small town gas-station sign.
He thought to himself, Twenty, eh? Five miles? Why do you hate me?
He was on lap nine when he heard the familiar voice from beyond the chain-link fence. “Easy there tank. You've gone red and those sweat lines? Oh man, I can hardly contain myself.”
Isaac saw James's smug face hanging over the fence; his arms dropped down and dangled in the air.
“Can I help you?” Isaac said panting.
“Take a break, you look like you need it.”
Isaac slowed down his legs, struggling to cope with the sudden change in effort.
“That sounds like a fat joke,” Isaac said.
James lifted his hands. “You…call you fat? My dearest friend fat? You think that I would go that low? It almost hurts my feelings.”
“I hope it shakes you to the core.”
“What are you doing here?” James asked sharply.
“I’m running. Doing the running thing.”
James hiked up his jacket and looked up and down the track. “There's no one here. Let's get out of here and go get a beer.”
Isaac smiled and shook his head lightly. “I'm not even halfway through.”
“Listen I won't tell anyone you skipped out. It's getting dark and we should get some beers.”
Isaac arched his back and started to walk down the track. “I'll be another forty minutes and then I just want to head back to the apartment.”
Isaac's feet began to pound the ground as he started to jog again. James stood exasperated. The other person on the track was now rounding the turn. James set off in a light jog to catch up to Isaac. James’s jeans swished and his light blue jacket danced against the breeze.
“You are going to make me do this?” James said.
Isaac looked back. “What are you doing?”
“I am trying to get you off this track and into a bar.”
“I’m not up for it tonight.”
“Are you sick? Have you been running too much? Did you get enough water?”
“You know I like to do this in peace?”
“I can't get drinks alone.” James was now breathing hard. “People will whisper and say things.”
“That you like to drink?” Isaac questioned.
“True, but alone. That is just sad.”
Isaac continued jogging down the track and maintained his silence. James hurried two steps behind. They had rounded the track and reached the halfway point when James chimed in, “You're serious aren't you?”
“I just want to run tonight.”
“How far are you going?”
“As of now five miles.”
“OK… OK, something is wrong.”
“Nothing's wrong.”
“Nope I know you man. I know Isaac and this Isaac it telling me something is up.”
James only heard heavy breathing from his running partner.
“Oh shit, there is. Let me guess, it's obviously not a woman because that would be something of note. The school is still shit so that's not changed. How about that new internship?”
Isaac looked down at James for a moment and continued running.
“Gotcha. What happened? Bitchy new boss?”
Isaac for the first time in a week smiled. “Yeah man, you could say that.”
“Don't get your panties all twisted up. I don't think that the professor will let you change again.”
“I don't think he would believe me if I did tell him.”
“What’s with this new guy? Wait a minute…he deals with dead bodies.” James popped Isaac in the shoulder. “He doesn't play with the bodies? You know, touchies?” James tucked his arms under his armpits and twiddled his fingers.
Isaac looked down at James jogging with his short arms. He bit down on his lower lip to keep himself from laughing.
“Good…the stoic beast can laugh.”
Isaac slowly pulled off the track and into the grass and slowed to a walk.
“Isaac, he didn't make you touch a body?”
“Man, there's no funny business going on.”
“I didn't say there was any funny business, you said that.”
“How am I supposed to interpret armpit hands.”
“Listen I’m trying to put action to what I was thinking. It can't be that bad.”
Isaac pulled in a few breaths and fell onto the grass and stared up at the dark sky. “It was the worst.”
James stood over Isaac. “It's just a job.”
“I wish.”
“Are you going to say something or are you just going to be cagey?”
“You'll never believe me.”
“Try me out.”
Isaac stared off into the light saturated sky at the few stars that remained. He recounted his meetings with Rowe and Lazarus. He went into full detail about the séance, from the woman's desecrated body to the meeting in his apartment with Jalon. He barely skipped a beat as James stood silently over him listening to his friend recount the impossible events with a calm clarity. Isaac finished and let his legs fall to the grass. James slowly sat down as his eyes were caught by the last man still rounding the track.
James was quiet and breathed heavily. “It came out of her body?”
“Her fucking chest. I haven't been able to sleep in days. I keep feeling this tingling sensation and I just want to itch my neck. It's driving me mad. I thought I could come out here and just run my body into exhaustion. I thought it would help me sleep. I just want to sleep.”
Isaac's voice trailed off at the end as James picked up his line of questioning.
“What is the name of this guy's company?”
“I don't think he has one. I doubt it's listed.”
“But Rowe sent you to this guy? Rowe has to have something on this guy? Maybe knows what he’s all about.”
“I don't know, it might be worth going there.”
“Hell, yeah.”
They were silent.
“Isaac, the guy had wings?”
“Fucking wings man.”
“Like flapping wings? Not some type of fake shit?”
“The dick picked me up and put me against the wall, like I was a kid.”
“Jesus.”
Isaac laughed. “He wouldn't like you saying that.”
“No, I would imagine not. Listen, I believe you saw something crazy, but maybe they slipped you something? Some low-grade LSD, or something like that?”
“These guys seem crazy, so I wouldn't put it past them.”
“Right now, and for your sake, I am hoping you got slipped something. Because if not, I don't know man. Do you think they might be screwing with you right now? Maybe stalking you?”
“Here at the track?”
“I don't know
, but maybe you should just get out of town for a few days. Go seen your Nan and take some time off.”
“God I would love that. Some home cooking and sleep. I just need to sleep, man.”
“I hear you. Just go home, get packed and get outta here. Screw those guys, just leave. I will help you pack. Let's get out of here.”
Bus Station
Isaac stepped out of the taxi and walked up the short flight of steps to the bus-station platform. The night was in full swing with the slow moving hoard of drugged-out transients. Their arms and legs were a pock-marked path of bruises and pain.
A young man dressed in camouflage sat in the corner holding a cardboard sign, Vet Please Help. His face was locked on his worn boots with dirty toes poking out of the small holes worn through the side. His tattered socks sagged around his ankles exposing the dirt-crusted wounds on his calves.
Isaac walked by and the stench of urine overwhelmed him. It sent him back to that night with Zinn. He shook his head and continued on.
“Just a little money?” The voice was muffled and weak. Isaac stopped without looking at the man and he reached into his pocket and took out a dollar, dropping it into the man's lap. “Bless you.”
Isaac nodded. “No problem. Get some food.”
“I will,” he lied, pressing the money into his jacket pocket.
The ticketing-station street lights shone like the sun, sending light out across the darkened bus terminals. In the shadows, people stood over their luggage blindly staring out at the naked city skyline. The terminal had been the brainchild of some local politician. Speeches were given touting the cultural and social benefits of committing the new levy to the station. Ink would be spent writing up glowing reviews in the local papers admiring the new ornate architecture and championing the reuse of old abandoned buildings. But what would go missing were the benefits to the Thomason Construction family that the politician had married into. The dream was a massive central bussing station, providing easy travel to the average person in Seattle. What it turned into was the center of the vagabond community. The homeless would make the trek north in the winter to enjoy the warm maritime climate, free of snow and punishing cold. Drugs followed like an overflowing river filling the lowlands with addiction and slowly burning the lives of the poor. Heroin, cocaine, and acid rolled off buses to find their new homes among the darkened and forgotten communities stretching through the back alleys of the city.
Isaac held his bag tight to his shoulder. It contained a few weekend provisions hastily slapped together, a clean pair of pants, socks, and a new shirt. His Nan always liked to see him in something new. He had seen a sale on shirts a year ago and bought half a dozen. They collected dust in the back of his closet for these occasions. He enjoyed seeing her smile when he came into the house, her voice letting loose that soft cry as she saw her clean grandson in a pressed button up.
Isaac stopped in front of the ticketing booth and set his bag down. A black woman was on the phone complaining about the state of the men’s bathroom. She lowered the receiver and looked up at Isaac. “Sir, I will just be a minute.”
“Not a problem.”
“I don’t care what you do, I need someone down here to clean it up. You can smell it from outside. We need to get it cleaned up before the morning rush… No, we can’t wait until the morning. It needs…no…no you are not listening to me…now. We need it cleaned up now. Just call me back when you send someone.”
She quickly put down the handset and motioned for Isaac. He picked up his bag and leaned into the glass-window wall. “Sounds like a difficult evening.”
“Fucking homeless vagrants. Pardon my language. But they treat this place like their own shitting ground. Literally, I wouldn’t go into the restroom if I were you.”
“I’ll make a mental note.”
She looked down and pushed forward the rate chart. “Where are you going, sweetie?”
“I’m heading out to Bend.”
“The night drive down south will be easy. Great way to get some sleep and most of the time they don’t have a full bus so you should be able to have some leg room. You'll need it. How tall are you?”
“Six foot six, plus or minus an inch depending on who I'm talking to.”
She laughed. “I had a boyfriend your height once. I spent half my time on the tips of my toes. So do you want the ticket?”
Isaac smiled. “Yes, thank you.”
“Well sweetie, that will be ten dollars forty-five.”
Isaac dropped down the bill and the woman made a change.
“You are going to be on platform three. The bus should be here in about twenty minutes. Vending machines are around the corner and the bums tend to congregate at the entrance so you will be fine waiting over on the benches. Just don’t fall asleep or you’ll…well, just don’t fall asleep on the bench.”
“Thank you. Good luck getting your bathroom cleaned up.”
“That’s a cute one, you actually think they are going to clean that up.”
Isaac smiled as he walked down the ticketing booth and turned the corner and found the hanging sign that read, 3. Large glass awnings arched high above the asphalt, supported by painted blue columns. Between the columns were long wooden benches decorated with graffiti. Across the benches were two homeless men sleeping, their green army surplus bags tucked under the bench and bags of bottles carefully tied to the straps. Isaac surveyed the area in vain for a free bench. He crossed the platform and sat down against the brick wall and took in the panoramic view of the station.
Across the concrete landscape, bodies moved in a slow late-night rhythm. They paced across the sidewalks and terminals as if slowly searching for an earring or wallet. Isaac’s eyes shifted left and then right. His head rolled back against the wall lifting his hair and grinding against the brick mortar. His head dropped into his lap as his eyes closed. His arms folded around the bag and he slowly counted his breaths.
Three…two…one.
He could feel the relaxation slowly permeate his body. In his mind, he could hear the bus brakes squealing as they rolled into Bend. It would be early morning and the crisp dry air would send shivers down his back. He could see the road, a simple one- or two-mile walk to his grandparents’ house. It was only a few hours away, he told himself. Just a few hours away.
A deep familiar voice echoed in his left ear. “Where are you going, Isaac?”
His eyes flashed open and he turned his head to see Jalon sitting against the wall staring down at him. He was dressed in formal attire and wore a dark blue vest and white tie. His wings were tucked under his clothing and two large protruding mounds poked out the back of his shirt. Isaac could see Jalon’s barrel chest vibrating with excitement.
Isaac quickly pushed back against the wall and stood, stumbling out along the bus platform. He slowly retreated down the sidewalk with his arms raised as if to protect himself from some flying object.
“Are you following me?” Isaac yelled out.
“Of course I am,” responded Jalon.
“What?”
“Where are you going?”
“None of your damn business.”
“It’s actually my business to know.”
“I was just heading home to see my grandparents.”
“We can’t have you leave right now.”
“We? You and Lazarus? I’m happy you both care and are worried about me, but you can leave me be right now. I need this break.”
“Isaac you can’t leave.”
Isaac turned towards the station as he continued to retreat. His voice rang out and echoed across the terminals. “Help! Somebody! Please! This guy is harassing me!”
Jalon continued to slowly walk towards Isaac.
“Help!” Isaac recoiled as he bumped into a man. He turned and put both arms on the man’s shoulders. “You have to help me.”
The man was frozen in place. His eyes glazed over and stared across into the black shadows of the station. Isaac waved his hand in front of
the man.
“Hello! Hello!” he cried out.
Isaac turned back to Jalon and quickly scanned the platform. The bodies remained frozen in place, their faces locked in contorted stares as their conversations were stopped and cut off mid-sentence.
Jalon spoke. “Isaac, they can’t help you.”
Isaac yelled in vain, “Help!”
Jalon’s hand grabbed Isaac’s shoulder and sent a searing pain flowing down through his biceps and into his hands. It felt like a fire racing down his veins, threatening to explode out his fingertips.
“Isaac, do I have your attention?”
Isaac screamed out in agony, “What…gawd! What the hell!”
“Do. I. Have. Your. Attention.”
“Yes, you piece of shit.”
Jalon twisted Isaac’s shoulder and sent him reeling to the ground. Isaac’s leg buckled to the ground.
Jalon’s hot breath blew waves across Isaac’s face. “I’ll have your respect.”
Isaac’s face winced but he kept silent.
“Do I have it?”
A tear rolled down Isaac’s cheek as his face turned beet red. “Yes. Fine. Please let go!”
Jalon lifted his hand and released Isaac, allowing him to collapse onto the concrete floor. He rolled up against a bench, its occupier staring off into the distance. Isaac's hands pushed against a green camouflage bag as he stared up at Jalon’s body that was silhouetted against the fluorescent lighting. Isaac felt trapped, like a dog pushed into a corner. The dream of a quiet weekend in Bend gorging on Nan's food started to drift away only to be backfilled with a crippling depression. There was no escape from these men. There was nothing he could do.
Jalon's voice shook the ground. “I don’t have time to chase you around.”
“I need a break. I was just going home to see my grandparents.”
“Get up.”
Isaac's eyes darted across the bus station. He saw the opening at the end of the terminal. He pressed down against the bench and sprinted away from Jalon. His heart raced as he closed in on the stairs. The street was open before him.
Isaac could hear a loud whooping sound chasing behind. He turned to catch a glimpse. Jalon was no longer on the platform. The whooping sound closed in around him. He turned back to the street to see Jalon's body fall from the sky. Isaac crashed into Jalon's chest as the thunderous breeze swirled around him. Jalon's wings popped and flapped as he settled his feet. The wings folded quickly around his chest, the back of his jacket now torn to shreds.