Transition

by Henry Charles Mishkoff

  “LEGGO A ME!” Billy screams the second that Stevie reaches out tentatively and touches his arm. (His cry carries back to Federal, where it brings a smile to the lips of Louise Palopolous as she mops the fouled floor.) Struggling to his feet, Billy yanks a greasy blue bandanna from a back pocket and presses it to his face. “Oh, Jesus,” he moans, “I’m hurt. I’m hurt bad.”

  “Billy?” Stevie licks his lips nervously. “Billy, maybe we better take you to the hospital or something.”

  “Fuck you guys,” Billy mumbles belligerently, as he stumbles off into the darkness. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere with you pussies.”

  “Where you going, Billy?” Stevie rushes after Billy, but he’s careful to maintain a safe distance. Billy is unpredictable even when things are going well – but when he’s angry, all bets are off. “My car’s over that way.”

  “I ain’t gettin’ into no car with you assholes.” Billy is picking up speed and speaking more clearly as the pain subsides to an insistent throb. “Just leave me the fuck alone.”

  But Eddie and Stevie, with nothing else to do, continue to follow close behind as Billy stumbles down the street. “Where’s he going?” Eddie whispers. Stevie just shrugs.

  So they follow a few feet behind Billy, like ducklings, as he leads them down Cohonsett Avenue for two blocks, then three. He’s going to Fergie’s, Stevie thinks, which makes sense. Fergie’s is the last store on Cohonsett Avenue in the direction Billy is going, after that it’s just empty lots and then nothing but farmland. And as Sturdivant’s only all-night drug store, Fergie’s is the logical place for Billy to find something to ease his pain and dress his wounds.

  But logic isn’t what’s driving Billy. He’s not going anywhere in particular. He’s just walking off the anger and the pain, his head lowered like an enraged bull, fleeing from the humiliation that follows him like a persistent shadow.

  And so he could just as easily keep walking down Cohonsett Avenue. There’s no real reason why he would take a sudden turn into a dark alley.

  No reason at all.

  But that’s exactly what he does.

  ֍ ֍ ֍ ֍ ֍ ֍ ֍ ֍ ֍ ֍

  He’s not really looking down the alley. He’s stumbled a couple of times over miscellaneous debris, and it has occurred to him that he really doesn’t want to trip and fall again, so he’s paying more attention to where he’s placing his feet than to where he’s going. And anyway, the light from Cohonsett Avenue is behind him, and there’s no light coming from the other end of the alley, and his vision is still a little blurry from the recent insults to his nose, so he might not have seen the group of people walking toward him even if he had been looking in their direction.

  But his ears are still working just fine, and so he does hear somebody say something behind him, he’s not sure if it’s Stevie or Eddie, but one of them clearly says it, in an awed whisper: The Crazies!

  He stops so abruptly that Stevie and Eddie plow right into him, nearly knocking him over. They back off with hurried apologies, but he doesn’t seem to care, or even to notice. His radar is completely locked on to the people strolling toward him.

  “Holy shit, will you get a load a this,” he says, in a nearly reverent whisper. His eyes widen. He actually begins to drool in anticipation. It’s been a bad night, even by his standards, but finally, his luck is changing. He plants himself squarely in the middle of the alley and waits, as the white-robed figures approach.

  At first, he thinks there are just three of them: a short, bald guy with two chicks hanging onto his arms. The girls look scared. Well, he thinks, they should be scared. He grins and licks a few drops of blood from his teeth. It tastes good. And, miraculously, his hand has stopped hurting. And his nose. He feels wondrously alive, his head clear, his senses tingling.

  But then he sees one more person, someone is emerging from the darkness, hurrying to catch up to the others. For a moment he thinks that the dim light is playing tricks on his eyes, it’s some kind of weird shadow. Or maybe his vision is still a little fuzzy. Nobody could be that big. The guy is a fuckin’ dinosaur, bigger than Cousin Wendell, even.

  Well, let’s see, he thinks. Stevie and Eddie can handle the two girls – maybe – and I can mop up the street with baldy, but the big dude changes the equation. Whole new ball game.

  Guess it’s gonna come down to how bad these guys want to fight and how tough they are.

  Or maybe they don’t believe in fighting, maybe they’re into some kinda peace-and-love shit.

  Well, then, I’ll pound some fuckin’ peace-and-love into them. No problem.

  But what if they’re into Kung Fu? What if the little bald dude is the next Jet Li?

  Well, Billy thinks, I guess we’re gonna find out.

  And we’re gonna find out real, real soon.

  2.1.6: Sturdivant

  We can walk right around them, Walker thinks, as he pulls up beside Nathan and the girls. We have them outnumbered, and the two little guys don’t look real eager to make trouble, anyway. If we just walk around them, we’ll be past them before they can decide what they want to do. He begins to drift over toward the side of the alley, hoping that Nathan and the girls will see what he’s doing and follow his lead.

  But no, Nathan walks right up to where the short, fat guy is standing, right in the middle of the alley. He just walks right up to him, no indecision, no hesitation. He stops a few feet from the fat guy, smiles pleasantly, and says, “Good evening.”

  But Walker can see that the fat guy’s not listening to Nathan, his eyes are locked on Sunshine, who offers him a weak smile before she turns her eyes nervously to the ground.

  “Why are you looking away from me, bitch?” the fat guy demands, hoarsely. “You ain’t scared of me, are you?”

  Sunshine looks up and meets his eyes, but only for a second, then she shudders and quickly looks down again.

  “Who are you guys?” This from one of the fat guy’s skinny followers, who are standing on either side of the fat guy, like bookends. “I mean, you’re The Crazies who took over the Phillips place, aren’t you?”

  Nathan smiles his placid smile. “I am Nathan,” he says. “This is Sunshine, and this is Chastity.” He speaks with calm self-assurance, giving no indication that anything out of the ordinary is going on. “And Walker…” – Nathan glances over to the side of the alley – “…Walker stands over there.”

  How can he be so blasé about this? Walker wonders. Doesn’t he realize that we’re in trouble?

  “We come in peace,” Walker says. But he’s trying way too hard, his voice is all wrong. It sounds lame, even to him, as soon as he says it.

  “Chastity, huh?” The fat guy licks his raw lips. “I like that, that’s good. From what I hear about what goes on out at the Phillips place, that’s a real laugh. Chastity.” The name falls from his lips like a foul disease. Chastity keeps her eyes to the ground, and clings to Nathan even tighter.

  “Do you fuck for this little bald guy?” the fat guy inquires, all innocence. “How about for the fat boy over there? Or is he too big for you?”

  “Hey!” The skinny guy who had spoken earlier has been studying Walker with a puzzled expression on his face. “Hey, Billy,” he says, excited, “I know this guy. I know him.”

  “Oh, really?” Billy sounds bored. “Stevie? You gonna tell us who he is, or do we have to guess?”

  “He’s that football player, that guy from Penn State, what’s his name, Kowalski or something.” Stevie pauses as if he expects some kind of sign of validation from Walker, but Walker’s not sure that he wants to give him any. “You’re that Kowalski guy from Penn State, aren’t you?” he asks Walker, hopefully. “The lineman? The guy who quit?”

  Walker sighs. “Kowalski is the name I used to use,” he admits. He feels more than a little ambivalent about the direction of the conversation. Normally, he shies away from speaking of his past – but, at this point, he’s welcoming anything that might provide a diversion.

  “It’s him, Bill
y, I told you it was him!” Stevie says. “He was the best fuckin’ defensive lineman in the country. ‘Killer Kowalski,’ they used to call him. He was a fuckin’ terror, I never seen anything like him. Then all of a sudden, he just up and quits, just like that, joins some kinda religious cult or something, says he’s not gonna… Holy shit,” Stevie adds, as the import of what he’s saying finally catches up to him. “Holy shit. You joined up with The Crazies. You’re out at the Phillips place. Holy shit. I don’t believe it. I don’t fuckin’ believe it.”

  “Why did the bald guy say your name was Walker?” the other skinny one asks suspiciously in a squeaky voice. “What are you guys trying to pull?”

  “Walker is my spiritual name,” Walker explains, more than a little aware of how strange that must sound to this particular audience, but doggedly determined to speak the simple truth. “Nathan gives us new names when our spirits are awakened.”

  “That a fact?” Billy seems to be only mildly curious about the unexpected identification. But most of his attention, Walker can’t help but notice, remains focused firmly on Sunshine. “Why’d you quit playing football, big boy?” Billy asks, his eyes never turning from Sunshine.

  “I chose not to inflict any more pain,” Walker answers. He can tell that Billy isn’t much interested, but he clings to the faint hope that perhaps he can distract Billy, stall him, play for time. “I decided that I wasn’t put on this planet to hurt some people for the entertainment of others.”

  “Wow,” Stevie says. He still seems to be shocked by his discovery. “Killer Kowalski. Right here in Sturdivant. All this time. Unbelievable. Just un-fucking-believable.”

  “I know just what you mean, fat boy,” Billy says. “I don’t like to hurt people for the entertainment of other people, either.”

  For the barest instant, Walker feels just the faintest glimmer of hope. But there’s something in Billy’s voice, a ragged undertone, that gives the lie to his words and sets Walker’s teeth on edge.

  “I like to hurt people for my own entertainment,” Billy explains. He grabs Sunshine’s arm and yanks her away from Nathan. Sunshine desperately clutches at Nathan with her free hand, but Billy’s attack has been too sudden, too unexpected, and Nathan’s arm slips through her fingers.

  Sunshine gasps in surprise and terror as Billy pulls her to him, slamming her body into his, front to front. He releases her arm, but it’s just to rearrange his grip; sliding both of his arms around her waist, he presses the small of her back firmly into him. Sunshine had managed to fling up both hands in an instinctive attempt at self-defense, and these hands are now pressing against Billy’s chest, her upper body leaning back as she tries to distance herself from him. She’s not struggling, and Walker’s not sure if that’s because of her commitment to non-violence or because of the obvious futility in trying to fight Billy, who must outweigh her by a hundred pounds.

  Which, Walker thinks, is probably about as much as I outweigh Billy.

  I could wipe up the street with this punk. It wouldn’t even take very long. And it would feel awfully good.

  But… Nathan teaches us that violence only begets more violence. And because of my size, I have a special responsibility to control myself, to control my anger, to avoid causing damage to others. As Nathan teaches, that would ultimately only cause damage to myself.

  But… This filthy, vile degenerate is scaring Sunshine, and he’s obviously quite capable of hurting her. He must be stopped.

  Maybe violence is justified under certain circumstances.

  And maybe this is one of them.

  Maybe.

  Walker glances over at Nathan – who, surprisingly, seems to be the only person in the alley whose attention has not been captured by the atrocity unfolding just a few feet in front of him. Instead, Nathan stares intently back at Walker, as if he has just been waiting for Walker to glance over at him. When Walker’s eyes meet his, he smiles. He seems to be perfectly relaxed.

  Walker starts to sweat. His mind begins to race out of control. This entire scene is being staged for my benefit, he thinks. This is some kind of test; Nathan wants to see how I’m going to react. But that can’t be – there’s no way that Nathan could have arranged this, or even anticipated it. And even if he could have, he wouldn’t subject Sunshine to this humiliation just to evaluate my dedication to non-violence.

  Would he?

  “Nathan.” Walker finds it difficult to speak. His lips are dry, his throat is parched. “Nathan?” he repeats. “Can’t we do something?”

  He expects – or, perhaps, dreads – a typical Nathan response, something like: What is it that you would like us to do, Walker?

  “We can do a great many things, Walker,” is what Nathan actually says. “Or we can do nothing at all. It is not important. It is illusion.” He waves his hand, dismissing the issue, writing it off as inconsequential. “You cannot control what other people do, Walker,” he says, gently. “You can only determine your own thoughts, your own actions. Your own perceptions. You create your own world, Walker. You know this.”

  He’s teaching me a goddamn lesson, Walker thinks, suddenly angry. My beautiful sister, who comforted me when I was afraid, is being manhandled by the town bully right before my eyes. And all Nathan can do is spout homilies.

  Just as quickly, Walker is horrified by his own thoughts. In the midst of all the turbulence, Nathan has sensed his distress and is taking the time to help him, and his response has been anger. He’s sure that Nathan has seen the anger flash in his eyes. But he also knows, just as quickly, that it’s alright, that Nathan understands and forgives him. If nothing else, this incident is showing him that he’s not as far along as he had thought. In his pride, he has considered himself to be more spiritually advanced than he really is. How can he hope to influence other people when he can’t even get his own act together?

  All of which, of course, still leaves the fundamental problem unresolved. Billy is still holding Sunshine, and he’s not showing any sign that he’s even remotely thinking about letting her go…

  And just then, Sunshine shrieks, a single, short burst, sounding more surprised than hurt. Walker sees that Billy has swung Sunshine around so that she’s facing away from him. He’s pressing her body tightly to his, his hands are firmly wrapped around her waist. He’s whispering something into her ear. Sunshine closes her eyes in dumb horror, but she’s not trying to escape. She’s too terrified to move, Walker thinks.

  Billy’s hand slides higher on Sunshine’s robe, staining the white purity of the simple garment with dark streaks of grime and blood. He finds her breast through the heavy fabric and squeezes, a nearly demonic grin spreading on his face. His hands graze over Sunshine’s chest, stroking and squeezing. Sunshine keeps her eyes closed, her lips move silently as if she’s praying. She’s chanting her mantra, Walker realizes.

  “This is too much,” Billy says. “This is too fucking much. I’m grabbing this bitch’s tits right here in front of you guys, and you ain’t doing shit.” He laughs, scornfully. “What a bunch of pussies.” Everyone but Billy seems to be paralyzed, but Billy seems to be gaining energy with each passing second, as if he were leeching strength from everyone else.

  “That feel good, baby?” Billy croons to Sunshine with mock sweetness, as he continues to fondle her. “Let’s see what you got under this fuckin’ robe,” he says. And he grabs a fold of the robe and pulls, hard.

  “Please, don’t,” Sunshine begs softly, pitifully, her eyes firmly shut. The fabric holds as Billy yanks once, twice; but with the third pull, the front of the robe rips open. Sunshine sobs. Nobody moves.

  “Holy shit,” Billy says, as he stares over her shoulder. Under her robe, Sunshine is wearing only a tight, white T-shirt and plain white panties. The form-fitting shirt is revealing, the outlines of Sunshine’s nipples are clearly visible through the taut fabric. Billy tweaks a nipple with each hand, hard. Sunshine stiffens and grits her teeth.

  “Man, you guys are too much,” Billy repeats, as
his hands continue to idly explore Sunshine’s body. He glances at Walker, who is trembling with the effort of restraining his anger. “Whaddya think, fat boy?” Billy asks. “What would you do if I ripped off this bitch’s undies and fucked her right here in the street? Stand there and watch?” He leers and lets one hand wander down past Sunshine’s waist. He laughs as he sees the sudden spark of pain in Walker’s eyes.

  “Billy?” Stevie speaks hesitantly, and Walker is heartened by the possibility that Billy’s friends may not be entirely comfortable with what’s going on. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” Stevie says, although without much conviction, as if he’s considering whether arguing with Billy might be unwise.

  “Aw, shit, don’t worry about it, Stevie. Here.” Billy swings Sunshine around and pushes her toward Stevie, who catches her more to stop her from falling than to prevent her from escaping. “Go ahead,” Billy says, “do whatever you want. She ain’t gonna scream or fight or nothin’. She believes in free love, don’t you, baby?” He laughs.

  “And here’s one for you too, Eddie,” Billy says, as he advances toward Chastity, whose eyes widen with fear as Billy approaches.

  She gasps when he touches her. “No,” she whispers, a low moan. “Please, no.”

  But Billy yanks her sharply away from Nathan, and pulls her roughly over to where Eddie stands, eyes wide. “Here you go, Eddie,” Billy says magnanimously, as he hands Chastity to him. “Go ahead, squeeze her titties, she won’t mind.”

  But as far as Walker can see, there’s little chance that Eddie’s going to do anything of the sort. In fact, Walker has the distinct impression that this may be the closest that Eddie has ever been to a woman, he seems to be completely baffled by the situation, and maybe a little scared.

  Walker can hear Chastity whispering something to Eddie, it sounds like she said: Please don’t hurt me. And Eddie looks shocked, and maybe a little wounded, like why would this girl think that he was going to hurt her?