The twin in the blue parka was the first to poke his head cautiously around the corner of the alley. Garth grabbed the fur-lined hood of his parka, rudely yanked him into the alley, and slammed him up against the brick wall. When the second twin appeared a split second later I treated him to a drop kick to the solar plexus, doubling him over. I grabbed the back of his parka, pulled him into the alley to join his brother.
My twin, the one in the tan parka, wasn’t going to be able to breathe, much less speak, for a bit longer, so I turned my attention to the other one, who was staring wide-eyed into Garth’s stony face.
“Yes, he does bite,” I said to the man, who then directed his attention down to me. He wriggled a bit, but Garth held him tightly up against the wall. “Before he does, I have one question; answer it, and we’ll all be on our way to see what Santa brings. Where did Nuvironment dump its hundred tons of rain forest soil?”
There was some gasping and wheezing from the twin at my feet. Slowly, both hands grasped to his stomach, he managed to get up. He took a few tentative deep breaths, looked at his brother, and nodded.
“Praise the Lord,” Garth’s twin said.
“Praise the Lord,” my twin wheezed.
“Amen,” Garth said, and clipped his twin hard on the jaw. He crouched down to catch the slumping body of the unconscious man over his shoulder, then effortlessly straightened up, reached over his head, and pulled down the fire escape. “Any criticism, Mongo?” he continued, looking at me.
“Well, maybe you’re just a trifle impatient, brother,” I replied, studying the thoroughly shocked face of the twin in the tan parka. “But then, so am I. No criticism.”
“You got your gun?”
“No.”
“Are you too old to break one of the guy’s kneecaps if he tries to run away?”
“At the moment, he doesn’t look like he wants to find out.”
“Good,” Garth said, and, with the twin in the blue parka still draped over his shoulder, began climbing up the fire escape. “If he doesn’t want to come up on his own, I’ll be back down in a couple of minutes to get him.”
“So?” I said to my ashen-faced twin as his eyes followed the progress of his brother on my brother’s shoulder as Garth climbed up into the night. It had begun to snow heavily, and they disappeared from sight as Garth passed the first floor. “The price of declining this party invitation is to answer my question. If you do, Garth will bring your brother back down. Where’s the dirt? Don’t bother trying to lie, because we’ll be taking the two of you with us to make sure the dirt’s where you say it is.”
My twin didn’t bother trying to lie; he didn’t bother saying anything at all. His pinched features and dark brown eyes clearly reflecting alarm and concern for his brother, he suddenly stepped to the fire escape and began climbing up into the snowy darkness. I clambered up after him—again noting his springy step, and the easy manner in which he moved.
We arrived at the top, climbed over the brick parapet to find my brother standing over his twin, whom Garth had sat down right on top of the burlap covering one of my prize-winning rosebushes. When my twin rushed over, Garth grabbed him by the lapel of his parka, sat him down on top of a second rosebush. The twin in the blue parka had regained consciousness, although he still looked more than a bit groggy. He looked around him, saw his brother sitting beside him, reached out and took his hand. If he was about to praise the Lord again, he apparently thought better of it when he glanced up into Garth’s face. Both men slumped forward on their rosebush perches, bowed their heads.
“That idiot Patton sent you two idiots to tail us,” Garth said to the men, his voice barely audible above the rising wind that whipped his wheat-colored hair about his head. “Mongo and I should feel insulted, but we don’t have time to go into that. We’re looking for a little girl, and you’re going to tell us where to find her. Your employers dumped a shipload of some special dirt somewhere around here. Where is it?”
The twins exchanged surprised looks, and that bothered me; they shouldn’t have looked surprised. It could mean that something Garth had said—perhaps something about our assumptions—was wrong, and that would be bad news indeed.
“What’s the matter?” I asked my twin, the one in the tan parka. “Talk to us, for Christ’s sake. Is it so hard for all of you people to believe that our only interest is the welfare of the child? Don’t you care at all about her? What the hell’s the matter with you people?”
“We won’t tell you anything,” my twin said. “Praise the Lord.”
“Praise the Lord,” his brother said.
“Amen,” Garth said, and both men immediately flinched and put their hands over their faces.
But Garth didn’t hit anybody. Instead, he grabbed the front of his twin’s blue parka and yanked him up off the rosebush. He unceremoniously marched the man to the parapet, then, still maintaining a firm grip on the front of the man’s parka, roughly sat him down on the brick.
My twin started to rise, and I kicked him in the left thigh—not hard enough to do any real damage, but with sufficient force to sit him back down again. “You have to forgive my brother’s impatience,” I said to the man as he furiously massaged his thigh. “I know he’s making a terrible first impression, but he’s not really as mean-tempered as he seems. It’s just that he gets very crazy about child molesters, and people who protect them. Right now, you and your brother fit into the second category.”
“Lies!” the man shouted at me. “Lies! We know who you are! You two are the spawn of Satan! You won’t trick us! You won’t defeat Christ’s legions in the final hour! The second seal has been opened, and you and your brother chose to ride with the red beast!”
“What does he have to say, Mongo?!” Garth shouted over the wind.
“He says we’re the spawn of Satan!”
“Tell the prick he’s got that right! This guy doesn’t want to say anything at all! He must think he can fly! Ask your guy if he thinks his brother can fly!”
“Tell us where the dirt is, pal,” I said to the man sitting in front of me. “That’s all we want to know; we check it out, and then you and your brother can be on your way. Patton will never know that you told us, I promise you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, spawn of Satan!” The fear and shock in the man’s brown eyes had now turned to hate which was so clearly reflected in his twisted features that it startled me.
“Oh? Why were you following us?”
“You can’t trick me! I won’t tell you anything!”
“Then don’t try to tell me you don’t know what we’re talking about, because you do. At least you know about the dirt. Maybe you don’t know about the child, so I’ll give you the story. Listen to me carefully: a lunatic by the name of William Kenecky is repeatedly raping and sodomizing a child by the name of Vicky Brown. You babble a lot of the same religious bullshit as Kenecky, but I don’t think that either you or your brother molests kids. And you have absolutely no reason to protect Kenecky. We’ll find Kenecky and the girl if you’ll tell us where the dirt is being stored. You’ll take us there, and then you’ll see that what I’m saying is true.” I paused, sighed heavily. Suddenly I was filled with a great weariness, as if the man’s blind zealotry and stupidity formed a great weight that was pulling at my heart, dragging me down. “It’s Christmas Eve, man,” I continued quietly. “Imagine how you’d feel if she was your kid. Can’t you give her a break?”
“Mongo?!” Garth shouted. “What’s happening over there?! Do I launch this guy or not?!”
“Keep him on hold!” I shouted back over my shoulder as I kept my eyes on my twin’s face. I didn’t like what I saw there; the gleaming, crazed look in his eyes could mean that he was beyond threats to either himself or his brother, and thus beyond reason. It frightened me. I said, “Don’t you think Jesus would want you to help this child?”
The man shook his head. “It doesn’t make any difference if you kill Floyd or me. Soon we’ll
both be in Paradise.”
“Good for you—but that doesn’t answer my question. Don’t you think Jesus would want you to cooperate with us in stopping a child molester from abusing a little girl’s mind and body?”
“You’re lying about Reverend Kenecky! He would never—!” He abruptly stopped speaking, but it was too late; the child molester had already been let out of the bag.
“Mongo?! Has he told you where we can find the dirt?! My arm’s getting tired!”
I glanced over my shoulder at Garth, and didn’t at all care for what I saw. My brother had pushed the twin in the blue parka back over the edge of the parapet, and the only thing that was keeping the man from falling four stories was Garth’s grip on the front of his parka. The man’s legs pumped up and down, and his fingers clawed at the brick wall he was bent back over. Garth lowered him a little more. I didn’t think Garth would drop him—but I had to admit to myself that, under the circumstances, I wasn’t absolutely sure. Vicky Brown’s plight had him more worked up than I’d ever seen him, and he’d already made it very plain to me that he cared nothing for the rights—and, presumably, the lives—of victimizers or their allies. He had truly lost patience with the evil in the world in the most profound sense; to Garth, evil people were no longer people. And even if he didn’t drop dear Floyd intentionally, there was always the chance that his gloveless hands might become stiff and numb in the cold, and lose their grip.
Cold hands just wouldn’t make a very good defense at our murder trial—and our being brought up on charges of murder wouldn’t do anything to help Vicky Brown.
“Uh, Garth, hold off for a while, will you?! My friend here and I are just getting into a serious chat! Why don’t you bring your guy over and join us?!”
For a moment I didn’t think he was going to do it. Our eyes met, held. Then he shrugged before abruptly pulling brother Floyd back up over the parapet. He dragged him back across the roof and again sat him down on my rosebush, next to his twin.
“These guys seem to have popped out of the same fruitcake as Valley, Mongo,” Garth said easily. “I think I may have to start breaking things in them.”
“You hear the way my brother talks?” I said, looking back and forth between the two men, whose faces had suddenly become oddly vacant. “He’s the bad guy—but you’re in luck, because I’m the good guy. I say, let us reason together.” I paused, moved in front of the man in the blue parka. “Floyd, your brother tells me he doesn’t believe Reverend William Kenecky would sodomize a young girl. Well, what if he would? Just suppose he would—and is. Just suppose that Garth and I can prove to you that Kenecky is a child raper. Would you help us then?”
The twins looked at each other—with Floyd displaying what might have been a slight frown of disapproval at his brother’s talkativeness. But neither spoke.
“What the hell is it that you Nuvironment people are trying to hide that’s worth all this aggravation?” I continued, struggling to remain calm and keep my tone even. “Why did Patton have you follow us? What on earth is he afraid we may find out?”
Again, there was no response. The twin in the tan parka had bowed his head again, and appeared to be praying.
“Show them the letter, Garth.”
“You show it to them if you want,” Garth replied tersely, taking the well-worn envelope containing Vicky Brown’s letter out of his pocket and handing it to me.
I removed the letter from the envelope, shielded it from the gusting wind and snow with my body, held it out in front of them. “Is this a lie? Read it.”
Neither twin would look at the letter. “We won’t be tricked,” the man in the blue parka said.
I refolded the letter, put it back in the envelope, and handed it back to Garth as I continued to study the faces of the brothers. Suddenly I felt pity for them. Appeals to reason and Garth’s threats were getting us nowhere; I wondered what might happen if I appealed to their madness. Christmas Eve was no time to be beating on people, no matter the reason.
“I can see that the two of you are very devout,” I said seriously. I was rewarded with a flicker of interest in their eyes. “Garth and I respect that, but it’s difficult for us to understand just what it is you believe. I know it’s the millennium and all that, and every thousand years all sorts of people take it into their heads that the world is going to end; it’s part of the human condition. But what’s interesting about you two is that you seem to be convinced that it’s going to happen tomorrow or the next day. What do you know that we don’t? If the world is really going to end that soon, maybe Garth and I should start thinking about getting our affairs in order.”
“You mock,” the twin in tan said. “You don’t believe it.”
“I’m just curious as to the specifics of what you believe. Is what you believe supposed to be a secret?”
He shook his head. “It’s clear for all who have truly taken Jesus into their hearts.”
“What’s clear? That the world is going to end?”
“Yes!” the second twin snapped. “Jesus is coming!”
“When?”
“Soon. Very soon.”
“How do you know that?”
“Let him who has eyes see. Let him who has ears hear.”
“How is the world going to end?”
“In fire,” the twin in tan said. “As it is prophesied.”
“What’s going to happen then? What’s on the celestial agenda after the world ends in fire?”
“Those who truly have Jesus Christ in their hearts will be spared, including those who have died before. Those of us who are clean will be swept up to the sky to be with Jesus while demons ravage those of you who have been left behind and who have survived the fire. There will be hell on earth for you. After seven years, Jesus will finally descend to vanquish the demons and establish His kingdom here on earth. We will join Him, and we will live forever. People like you will be dead. And damned.”
“So you really believe this nonsense Kenecky has been feeding you?”
Both men had been shivering. Now they stopped, and their eyes flashed. “It’s all in prophecy!” the twin in tan shouted. “It’s clearly written for all to see! The fact that you have not seen and do not believe is what damns you. Reverend Kenecky has Christ in his heart; when Reverend Kenecky speaks, it is the same as Christ speaking.”
“Even you can’t believe that Christ wants him to rape little girls—and that’s what he’s doing. I think you know now that it’s true, even if you won’t read Vicky Brown’s letter. I think you know Vicky Brown—and you certainly know Kenecky. Garth and I wouldn’t be up here in the cold chatting with you unless we were absolutely certain that what we say is happening is happening. And you say that a man who screws kids has Christ in his heart? Give us a break.”
The twins exchanged uncertain glances, and it seemed to me that each was waiting for the other to say something. I felt a rush of excitement. Mine had certainly been the voice of sweet reason, and I could see by the expressions on their faces that what I said had troubled them; I dared to hope that my words would serve as an antidote to the poison in their heads—at least long enough for one of them to give us the single piece of information we needed to go on. I glanced at Garth, gave a slight nod. Obviously, he didn’t share my optimism; he simply shook his head slowly.
“So come on,” I continued evenly. “I’m telling you the truth about Kenecky. Where are Kenecky and the little girl? That’s all we want to know.”
The twin in the blue parka said tightly, “It doesn’t matter what’s happening now. Next week, it will end. Everything that we have known will end.”
I blinked slowly in astonishment. The voice of reason croaked, “It doesn’t matter?”
“Floyd’s right,” the twin in tan blurted. “And even if Reverend Kenecky is doing something to Vicky, it must be God’s will. Perhaps the reverend’s attention to her is God’s gift to the child. You simply don’t understand. God may be working for Vicky’s salvation through the reve
rend. What he does with her would be like a sacrament.”
The owner of the voice of sweet reason suddenly saw spots swimming in front of his eyes, the result of spiking blood pressure. Suddenly I felt as if I were burning, and then all reason was swept away as rage mixed with loathing and horror and exploded. I screamed something unintelligible and jumped on the man in the tan parka, knocking him backward onto a bed of snow-smothered pachysandra. I ripped off my gloves, but couldn’t manage to get my hands around his throat because of his parka. Blind with rage, nauseous with a sick sense of something I couldn’t quite identify, I rained blow after blow on his face, and didn’t stop even when blood started flowing freely from his nose and mouth. I couldn’t stop; while one part of my mind clearly recognized that the man I was sitting on was flesh and blood, another part of me felt as if I were punching a phantom, something unspeakably evil that had plagued the heart and soul of humankind from the time we had learned to walk upright. We had split the atom and soared in space, but all the knowledge we had gained had not been sufficient to slay this evil; the evil embodied in the man I was beating was immune to knowledge, for it spurned reason. I hated this evil and knew that it was too deeply ingrained in the man ever to be expunged. Even as my fists shredded the flesh of the man’s face, I somehow felt that I was attacking superstition and stupidity, the things that had broken men’s and women’s bones in the Inquisition, the things that had caused the deaths of countless men, women, and children in countless wars.
I was a tad worked up.
“You shit-for-brains, rotten, fucking son-of-a-bitch!” I screamed as I grabbed the man’s hair and shook his head back and forth. “You tell me where Kenecky and the girl are, or I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!”
And then Garth’s powerful fingers grabbed the back of my parka, pulled me off the man even as I continued to punch and kick at the air. He lifted me up and away, then set me down on my feet—but he kept a firm grip on my coat as I again lunged for the man. The bloody mouth of the twin in tan hung open, and he seemed to be in a state of shock.
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