Billy stands on the porch, surveying his fellow conspirators in the early morning light. Blindfolded, Nathan stands impassively facing Billy; Billy actually has to look over Nathan’s shoulder to view the group gathered in front of the porch.
“So, what do you think, baldy?” Billy snarls. “How many of you would we have to bloody up before you’d take the hint and go back to where you came from?”
“We will leave,” Nathan says, “when it is time for us to leave. Not a moment sooner. Not a moment later.” He speaks calmly and evenly, and to Billy’s dismay he doesn’t sound the slightest bit distressed.
“Well, I think that maybe it’s time for you leave right now, asshole,” Billy growls. He clenches both of his hands into fists, then straightens them out, then clenches them again, as if he wants to take a swing at Nathan but can’t quite make up his mind.
Slug him, Billy, someone calls. Yeah, someone else adds, show him what we think of The Crazies around here. Knock his fucking lights out.
But instead of hitting Nathan, Billy just continues to stare at him. “I oughta,” he says. “I really oughta knock your goddamn head off, you smug son of a bitch.”
Well, do it, Billy. Shit, don’t just talk about it. Do it.
And Billy actually draws his arm back, but then he changes his mind, and he just stands there, his face contorted in anger and frustration.
Hit him, someone says. What the fuck are you waiting for? Kick him in the balls.
And that’s when Stevie seems to figure out what’s going on. “Yeah, hit him, Billy,” he taunts. “Hit him as hard as you can. Give him your best shot.”
There’s a puzzled murmur from the disciples. What is Bhakti saying? Why is he encouraging Billy to strike Nathan? Have just a few minutes of association with his former friends caused him to revert back to the person he used to be?
Yeah, someone says, hit the fucking dude or let’s get the fuck out of here. Shit, it’s morning already. Do it now, or let’s go.
And Billy wants to hit Nathan, he desperately wants to punish him, to humiliate him in front of his disciples. At this point, Billy feels like he has to hit Nathan, just to save face in front of his friends. But the humiliating image of their previous encounter is still fresh in his mind. He had kicked Nathan savagely where it should have hurt him the most, and Nathan had shrugged it off as if it were no more than a pesky mosquito bite. And this time, Nathan will be prepared for the blow. This time, he might not react at all, not so much as a blink.
The last time he attacked Nathan, the main result had been that Stevie had been so impressed by Nathan that he ran off to join him. What would happen now, with all of his friends watching? Would they all shave their heads, like Stevie, and kiss Nathan’s feet? Would all of Sturdivant come under Nathan’s power?
“What are you waiting for, Billy?”
“Shut up, Stevie.”
“You outweigh him by at least fifty pounds, and he can’t even see you. Why are you still afraid of him?”
“I’m not afraid of him, goddamn it,” Billy whines. “I just don’t know…” he trails off.
Oh, shit, someone says, he’s not gonna do nothing. Let’s go home. Yeah, someone else grumbles, I’m outta here.
And as Billy watches from the porch, the ragged group files into their vehicles. They start and rev their engines, honk their horns, curse and yell at each other. The cars and trucks maneuver noisily in the yard, tearing up grass, crushing flowers, knocking down bushes, nearly running into each other. The rumblings of retreating motors are audible for barely a minute as the cars and trucks weave their way back toward the town.
And then, there’s nothing but silence.
4.3.8: Sturdivant
The dew lies softly on the grass in a fine mist, sparkling like scattered gems in the soft light of the early morning sun. A robin cheerfully welcomes the new day. A pair of sparrows chatter as they playfully chase each other in tight circles overhead. Far off in the distance, like a sound drifting in from another planet, a protesting tractor sputters to life.
In the front yard of the ashram, amid the scars of tire tracks and scattered beer cans, Billy’s truck sits alone, a solitary soldier. Eddie Sweeney, puzzled and confused, slouches down in the front seat, wondering what Billy is going to do next, wishing he had ridden back into town with the other guys. I could be back at the Federal right now, he thinks, scarfing down some eggs and coffee. If Frank and Louise will let me back in, that is.
“It’s good to see you, Eddie,” Stevie says, ambling over to the side of the truck. “Real good. How’s life been treating you?”
Eddie is uncomfortable. Stevie has never talked like this before; he sounds so, well, pleasant. “Okay, I guess.” He doesn’t ask how Stevie’s been. He doesn’t want to know.
“Do you mind if I ask you a question?”
Eddie hesitates. “It’s alright, I guess.”
“Why are you guys wearing bags over your heads? I mean, it’s not like we don’t know who you are, or anything.”
Eddie looks away, embarrassed. “It was Billy’s idea,” he says, lamely.
“Oh,” says Stevie. He nods.
And Eddie knows that no more explanation is necessary.
4.3.9: Sturdivant
Are they gone? Jillian wonders from her perch on the top step, where she sits looking down into the foyer.
It sure sounds like they left. So why hasn’t anyone come back into the house?
And why don’t I hear any more noise from outside? Did everybody leave? Has everybody been kidnapped?
Is everybody… dead?
I should go downstairs and take a peek outside.
But maybe I’ll wait up here for just a few more minutes…
4.3.10: Sturdivant
On the porch, Billy and Nathan stand facing each other, unmoving. The disciples are chattering among themselves in hushed tones. I was so scared, Billy hears one of them say. He still has a gun, another cautions.
“You embarrassed me in front of my friends,” Billy says quietly. “You made me look like a fool.” His gun remains stuck into his belt, his thumb hitched dangerously nearby.
“I did nothing,” Nathan points out. “I have not moved since you placed me here. And I am blindfolded. I am afraid that you must accept responsibility for your own feelings.”
“Accept responsibility, my ass,” Billy counters, angrily. “I’ll give you something to accept responsibility for.” Stepping around Nathan, he stomps down the steps, where he turns back and glares. “I’m gonna be right back,” he snarls. “Any of you Crazies go anywhere, I’ll kill Stevie, so help me, I’ll shoot him right between his beady little eyes. And it’ll be your fault. You’ll have to ‘accept responsibility’ for it.” And without waiting for a response, he turns again and storms over to his truck.
“You wouldn’t really kill Stevie, would you?” Eddie asks anxiously as Billy strides past him. He speaks in a loud whisper, as if to spare the feelings of Stevie, who stands quietly nearby. “I mean, we came out here to get him back, didn’t we? It wouldn’t make any sense to…”
“Kill the fucking headlights before you drain the goddamn battery,” Billy growls, as he circles around to the bed of the truck. “Can’t you see it’s light out? And get the fuck out here, I need you to do something. And you,” he adds, as if just noticing that Stevie is still there, “you just might as well wipe that goddamn smirk off your ugly face, before I wipe it off for you.”
“I’m sorry, Billy,” Stevie says – and although Billy doesn’t really care, he can’t help but be impressed by the apparent sincerity of Stevie’s apology. “I didn’t mean to… what are you doing?”
“Tying you up, Stevie boy,” Billy says, as he wraps Stevie’s upper body in some of the clothesline he took from the bed of the truck. “What the fuck does it look like I’m doing?”
“But… why? I already said…”
“You already said too goddamn much, so shut the fuck up. Eddie!” he calls, impatiently.
“Where the fuck…”
“I’m right here, Billy.”
“Here. Tie his hands together, behind his back. Real tight, like this, you get me? And then tie his legs together. And hurry it up, we don’t have much time.”
“But, Billy…” Eddie seems to be puzzled. “Why do we have to…”
“JUST DO IT!” Billy screams, his face, flushed and contorted with sudden anger, just inches from Eddie’s. “Just do what I fucking tell you to do. Or are you a goddamn chicken-shit like the rest of them?”
“Y…y…you don’t have to yell at me, Billy. I ain’t no…”
“Then stop running your mouth and do it.” Reaching into the cab of the pickup, he withdraws a large hunting knife from a leather sheath. Then he turns and walks toward Stevie, who is patiently enduring Eddie’s clumsy attempts to truss him. Stevie’s eyes widen as Billy approaches, knife in hand, but he says nothing.
On the porch, someone screams.
“What are you g…gonna do?” Eddie stammers.
“Here,” Billy says, swinging the knife around and offering it to Eddie, handle first. “Use this, and be quick about it, then bring it to me up on the porch.”
“I… I don’t think I can do it, Billy.” Eddie’s voice rises an octave. “I can’t kill Stevie! I never…”
“I don’t want you to kill him, you fucking moron,” Billy says, contemptuously.
“Then, what…”
“To cut the rope, asshole. You need the fucking knife to cut the fucking rope.”
“Oh, yeah, right.” Eddie giggles. “To cut the rope.”
Shaking his head in disgust, Billy ambles back to the porch where Nathan and the disciples wait obediently. Pausing at the bottom of the steps, he puts his hands on his hips and surveys the group that stares down at him from behind the scant protection of the porch rail. “Holy shit,” he says, shaking his head, “I can’t believe that none of you even tried to get away. What a bunch of pussies.”
“But you said…” Jnana starts, then stops.
“And you believed me?” Billy laughs. “You really thought I’d shoot my buddy Stevie?” No one responds. “Hey, I wouldn’t mind shooting some of you retards, but I’m not dumb enough to shoot my own friend, you know?”
The disciples look glumly at each other and at Nathan, who remains standing exactly where Billy left him, blindfolded, facing the front door of the house.
“Okay,” Billy says, as he begins to mount the steps. “All of you, listen up. I want you to sit down with your backs against the railing, and I want you to do it fast. Everybody but you, head man,” he adds, as Nathan starts to turn and join the group. “You stay right where you are. And remember, I’m the one with the gun.” He withdraws it from his belt for emphasis; it gleams, hard and cold in the gentle morning light.
“Now!” he barks. “Move! Eddie, where’s the fucking rope?”
“Right here. I’m coming.”
Working together, Billy – and Eddie, under Billy’s careful and frequently critical supervision – bind the remaining disciples one by one, first tying their hands together behind them (“Make them fucking knots tight, Eddie”), then looping the clothesline around them and securing them to the posts that support the railing. (“Make sure they can’t move their arms, Eddie, I don’t want them to wiggle out.”)
When the disciples are all securely bound – and after he has thoroughly inspected Eddie’s handiwork – Billy saunters over to Nathan, grabs his arm, whirls him around, and unceremoniously shoves him against one of the poles that support the roof of the porch. He ties Nathan’s hands together behind him, wrapped around the pole. Then he binds Nathan’s legs to the pole. Then he wraps the remaining clothesline around Nathan’s chest, finishing the job of securing him firmly to the porch support.
“Well, folks,” Billy says, grinning maniacally at the glum disciples, “it’s been swell, but I’m afraid that it’s time for me to go.” Releasing the hammer of the pistol and jamming it back into his belt, Billy starts back down the steps, Eddie faithfully following on his heels.
But then he stops.
“Oh, yeah,” he says, snapping his fingers. “I almost forgot.” He turns quickly, nearly bumping into Eddie. “Holy shit,” Billy growls. “Why don’t you just push me down the fucking stairs?”
“I… I’m sorry. I just…”
“Go on back to the truck,” Billy orders, stepping around him. “Get Stevie in there too, in the middle, between me and you. Close the doors. Lock ‘em. And don’t let him get away, you understand me?”
“Sure, Billy,” Eddie whimpers, as he scurries off.
Clambering back up onto the porch, Billy approaches Nathan. He draws the gun from his belt. He presses the business end of the barrel against the side of Nathan’s head.
Nathan!!, someone screams. Oh my God, someone cries. Don’t, please don’t, we beg you, do what you want to us, kill us if you have to, but don’t harm Nathan!! Please, please…
“Shut up!” Billy is livid. He waves the gun around wildly as the disciples cower. “You people shut your goddamn fucking mouths before I shoot every fucking one of you!”
He turns back to Nathan and again presses the gun to his head. The cold steel nuzzles firmly against Nathan’s left temple. “So, what do you think, buddy?” Billy coos. “Would you feel any pain if I put a bullet into your brain? Or would you just shrug it off like when I kicked you in the nuts?”
“If you were to shoot me in the brain,” Nathan says calmly, “I don’t believe that I would feel any pain at all. But,” he adds, “I would most certainly die.”
“You mean you’re not, what do you call it, immortal?”
“In a sense,” Nathan explains, “we are all immortal. Our spirits are eternal. Inviolable. But our physical bodies are only too vulnerable. And if you were to shoot me, I suspect that mine would cease to function.”
“Are you ready to die?” Billy asks softly.
There are gasps and moans from the disciples. Several of them start to cry.
“I am always ready for anything.”
“But you don’t want to do die, now do you?”
“I don’t want anything. What happens, happens. If I die, I die. If I live, I live. It makes no difference to the universe, and it makes no difference to me.”
“Man,” Billy says, “I just don’t know what to make of you. I don’t know if you’re bullshitting me, or what. You mean to tell me you’re not afraid of anything?”
“There is nothing to be afraid of. The universe is not divided into good and evil, and I choose not to make such artificial distinctions. I accept whatever happens, without making judgments of any kind.”
“But you must be just a little bit afraid of me, now aren’t you?” Billy asks, as a hint of anger creeps into his voice. “I mean, I’m holding your life in my hands.”
Without moving the gun from Nathan’s head, Billy pulls the hammer back, and it clicks into firing position. Oh God, oh God, one of the disciples moans. Another begins to chant quietly, and several of the others pick it up in an unsteady drone.
“Tell me the truth, little man,” Billy says. “Right now, right at this very moment, you are afraid of me, aren’t you? You gotta be.”
And without waiting for an answer, he pulls the trigger.
The shot shatters the early morning calm. Several of the disciples scream. The pervasive sobbing builds into wailing.
But the instant before he fired, Billy had moved the barrel of the gun just an inch or two, and the shot whizzed harmlessly past Nathan’s ear.
Goddamn it, Billy thinks, the son of a bitch didn’t even flinch. How does he do it?
“Tell me!” Billy screams, pressing the pistol back against Nathan’s head. “Tell me that you’re afraid of me, goddamn it! I want to hear you say it!”
But Nathan only shakes his head sadly, as if he’s disappointed that he can’t honor Billy’s request. “I cannot say that, because it is not true,” he points out. “I am not afraid of yo
u.” He smiles warmly. Billy has the unnerving feeling that Nathan is staring at him through the blindfold, his eyes piercing the fabric like twin lasers. He feels a sudden chill and goosebumps rise on the back of his neck.
“How can that be?” Billy snarls. “You’re human, just like everybody else. You’re nothing special. You gotta feel something. How can you not be afraid of me?”
“I have explained it as best I can,” Nathan says, sadly. “But you are not ready to understand.” He smiles, and again Billy has the disconcerting sensation of Nathan’s eyes staring at him through the dirty bandanna. “Perhaps,” Nathan adds, “you might try to explain why you are afraid of me.”
“Afraid of you?” Billy scoffs; but his voice shakes ever so slightly. “Are you out of your mind? I’m the one with the gun, remember?” For emphasis, he cocks the hammer, once again producing the now-familiar click. “You’re fucking blindfolded. You’re all tied up. You can’t even move. Why should I be afraid of you? Where did you come up with that crazy idea?”
“If you were not afraid of me,” Nathan explains, eminently reasonable, “you wouldn’t be wearing a sack over your head. And…”
“You don’t know what you’re…”
“… and you wouldn’t have tied me up. And…”
“You just better shut up, before I…”
“… and you certainly wouldn’t have blindfolded me, now would you have?”
This last point seems to strike some kind of responsive chord, and Billy, about to speak, stops with his mouth open, then slowly closes it. “I’m not afraid of you,” he insists, but quietly, almost a whisper. “I’m not.”
For a few long seconds, he stares at Nathan’s blindfolded eyes, squinting at the bandanna as if trying to determine if Nathan really is capable of seeing through it. Then he looks down at the ground. Then he stares at the gun. Then he looks back at the blindfold. Then he slowly slides the pistol over so that it pokes under the bottom edge of the bandanna. And then he doesn’t move at all, but it seems as though he’s straining inside, trying as hard as he can to make the most difficult decision that he’s ever made in his entire life.
Transition Page 58