The Good Atheist

by Michael Manto

  She disconnected.

  My next stop was Collin’s hardware store. The roof of the shed was covered in patches of green moss, and a lot of the tiles were cracking and curling up at the corners. I’d also found evidence of water leaking through inside. I decided to put a new roof on the shed. It would get me out of the house and give me something to do while waiting for whoever it was to pick up Paige. I arranged to have enough new shingles and plywood delivered to the cottage later that afternoon, which gave me enough time to get back and get Paige and the kids safely out of sight.

  Paige helped me carry the groceries inside when I got back to the cottage. The delivery truck came by later, while Paige kept the kids inside with the curtains drawn. The driver, who also happened to be Collin, helped me stack the packages of shingles and plywood neatly inside the garage and then left.

  I was actually looking forward to the work. I’d been cooped up in the cottage for several days, and was sick of reading and sorting through old books. My grandfather had every tool imaginable in his shed, and I had no trouble finding a hammer and a roofing shovel. I got out a ladder and climbed up onto the roof, and got to work scraping and pulling the old shingles off. Paige and the kids raked and bagged old leaves in the yard.

  A couple hours later I was still on the roof, enjoying the physical activity and the fresh air, when Paige came over and stood below me, squinting up at me while shielding her eyes from the sun with one hand. “Excuse me, Jack.”

  “Yes?”

  “We’ve finished raking the leaves. What would you like us to do now?”

  Dozens of bags of leaves were stacked against the back of the garage. Paige was no lay-about, and I was coming to appreciate that quality in her. But the arrival of the delivery truck made me think of something that had not occurred to me before. “I think you and the kids need to stay inside and out of sight.”

  “There’s no one around for miles.”

  “Yes, but my grandfather knew a lot of people, and there’s interest in town with my arrival. We could have unexpected visitors dropping by. I don’t want to take any chances.”

  “I see. All right, I can keep busy inside. It’s about time to start dinner anyway.”

  Her comment surprised me. “It’s only four.”

  “Yes, but with that ancient stove, I need to cook old-fashioned. It takes at least an hour to make something decent from scratch.”

  I liked to cook, but I wondered how anyone had time for anything else but to cook and clean before the arrival of smart stoves and smart packaging.

  “Dinner will be at six. I’ll call you when it’s ready,” she said. Then she turned and headed towards the house, kids in tow. I watched her walk inside. Things were starting to get entirely too domestic between us. The sooner her ride arrived, the better.

  • • •

  I spent the rest of the afternoon on the roof. The old shingles came off easily enough using the roofing shovel. As I pried them off, they would slide down the slope of the roof and fall to the ground. It would take another day of hard work to get all the old shingles off, and then another half day to pick them up from the ground around the shed. Around six Paige came out onto the porch and called me in for supper. I climbed down off the roof, thankful to call it quits. Long-neglected muscles screamed in protest at the abuse they’d received all afternoon, and I ached all over.

  But I’d done some thinking while up on the roof and arrived at a decision. We were standing in the kitchen cleaning up after dinner. She’d cooked a delicious meal of coated chicken breasts and potatoes. Her ride did not show up. It was clear that something was wrong.

  “I’m going to drive into town tonight to talk to someone I think can help us,” I said.

  Her eyes weighed me in the balance. “What kind of help?”

  “Someplace where you can stay until your rides shows.”

  “What makes you think this person can help?”

  “Well, it’s unlikely my grandfather managed his underground activities all by himself, without any of his close friends knowing. There’s a very good chance that some of his friends were involved with him, and can contact the underground for us.”

  “I see.”

  “Look, you really can’t stay here much longer. I need to get back home while I still have a job and a wife to get back to. I can’t sit around here for who knows how long waiting for our mystery guest to come get you. It’s been two days now and there’s no telling how much longer it will be. I need to do something.”

  Paige glanced into the living room where Micah and Amanda played retro Monopoly. We could see them on the floor from the kitchen where we stood. I’d found some old board games in a closet that Grandpa had kept on hand. With no internet, halo-vision or computer games there wasn’t much for kids to do. Evidently he was used to harboring fugitives with children in tow.

  She kept wiping dishes. “You don’t need to explain yourself, Jack. You’ve already been more than generous.”

  “My grandfather knew a lot of people. I’ve met some of them already, and they’re Christians – uh – like you. At least most of them are. They may know what to do. They may even know how to contact the underground. It’s a shot, anyway.”

  She put plates away in the cupboards. “Sure.” If she was worried, it didn’t show.

  When we finished cleaning up I drove into town to find the one person I felt sure would be able to help me with Paige.

  12

  The sun was down and the streetlights on. I found Jorge’s home, using the directions he had given me at breakfast the other day. It was on a quiet side street a few blocks from downtown. But then everything in this small town was located within a few blocks of downtown.

  I parked on the street in front of his house. Lights were on and the curtains drawn closed, but it looked like someone was home. I walked up the sidewalk, hoping I wasn’t making a mistake, and stood on the porch in front of the door. The house avatar would have already got my name from the chip in my finger and notified Jorge that I was there. I waited, and a moment later a voice intoned from a brass grill on the wall next to the door. “Jorge will be right with you, Mister Callaghan.”

  A moment later the door swung open. Jorge stood in front of me wearing blue jeans and a black turtleneck sweater. “This is a surprise.”

  “Jorge, I’m sorry to interrupt your evening, but I need your help with something.”

  He stepped aside and waved me in. His house was small but tastefully appointed. The furniture was modern looking and the décor had been recently updated. The hallway was lined with framed photographs of what I assumed to be family. Most of the photographs featured a woman and three children. There was a wedding photograph of a younger version of Jorge with the same woman.

  I wondered what had happened to her, and where the children were. He led me into the living room and indicated the couch. “Please, have a seat.” He sat a recliner across from me. “What’s on your mind?”

  “You were one of my grandfather’s best friends,” I said. It was more of a statement than a question.

  He nodded. “Yes. I knew him for almost twenty years. We were as good friends as friends can be, I would suppose.”

  “I need your help with something and I’m not sure where else to turn.”

  “Your grandfather would have done anything for me. We went through a lot together. If you’re in some kind of trouble, I’ll do what I can.”

  “It’s not me that’s in trouble,” I said. I leaned forward, elbows on my knees. “I’ve just found out in the past couple of days that my grandfather was involved with something. Something illegal.”

  He didn’t look surprised. “Illegal maybe, but I’m sure not immoral. Times like these can turn good men into criminals just trying to do the right thing. What is it you think he was involved with?” His tone was guarded but not shocked.

  I hesitated. It was a gamble. If I guessed wrong, then I would be exposing the whole thing to someone who knew nothing about it, and
there was a risk that it would get out. But Jorge was a Christian, and a long-time friend of Grandpa’s. Even if he had not known about Grandpa’s underground connections, I didn’t think it was likely he would go to the police with the information I was about to give him. I figured the odds were in my favor.

  I had to trust someone. It was time to roll the dice. “I think he was involved in some kind of underground railway that get people wanted by the Tolerance Police into Canada.”

  I watched him carefully for a reaction. He didn’t flinch, and never took his eyes off me. “How did you come to suspect this?”

  “You don’t seem surprised.”

  “Let’s just say you’ve come to the right place. Now, tell me what’s going on.”

  I told him about Paige. “I’m not sure what to do,” I said when I finished my story. “She can’t stay at my place, she can’t go home, and I don’t know how to contact her underground friends. I’m taking a risk coming to you, I realize, but it seems to me that if anyone knew about my grandfather’s underground contacts and how to reach them, you would.”

  He stood up suddenly and paced the floor, eyebrows knitted together while he scratched the whiskers on his chin. “Seems like they didn’t get the word.”

  “Who?”

  “Ben died suddenly. I guess the word didn’t get to the right people in time.”

  “So my grandfather really was involved with the underground?”

  Jorge stopped his pacing and looked at me. “His cottage was used as a safe house.”

  “Can you help?”

  “What would you like us to do?”

  Us? I wondered. “Did I come to the right place?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can you find a place for Paige to stay, or get word to someone in the underground to come pick her up?”

  Jorge sat back down in his chair, and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Clearly she can’t stay with you. It’s too dangerous.”

  “Can you get word to the underground?”

  He paused for a moment. Then he said: “You just did.”

  I sat in silence. A clock ticked from someplace in the house. Lights from a passing hovercar swept across the wall behind Jorge.

  “I see. Will you help?”

  “It’s not as simple as getting word to the others. I’ll want to find out how the breakdown in communication happened. Where the break in the link occurred. That may take a few days. I have to be careful – we may have been compromised at some point. But it’s too dangerous for Paige to stay with you. I will find alternative arrangements for her.”

  “Where?”

  “Probably best if I didn’t tell you that. But there are friends she can stay with who will keep her safe.”

  “When?” I asked.

  “Tomorrow sometime. Either myself or a friend will swing by to pick her up.”

  That was all I needed to hear, and I stood up to go. “Thanks. I’ve taken up enough of your time. I appreciate this.”

  Jorge saw me to the front door. He opened it and we stood outside. A choir of crickets and cicadas filled the warm summer night. “I have a few phone calls to make, but someone will be by tomorrow to pick her up.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “Do you think they can still get her to Canada?”

  “I will do my best. If they can’t, I can manage it. A lot depends on whether that cell has been rolled up or not. I guess it won’t hurt to tell you that much, anyway, since you’ve likely figured out as much. Ben and I never actually got people across the border. We kept them safe here, and made the necessary arrangements with the people who could. His cottage was the perfect place for this. Very private, out of sight. People could come and go without anyone noticing.”

  “Have a lot of people passed through Grandpa’s cottage on their way to Canada?”

  “Hundreds.”

  “All Christians?”

  “For the most part, but there have been plenty of people from other religions, not to mention atheists.”

  That last bit surprised me. “Atheists?”

  “Sure. It was radical atheism that took over the social agenda of the country, remember, led by a group who took the writings of Harris and Dawkins of the last century to heart. Ideas have consequences, and theirs were as bad as the religious fanatics they were so critical of. In fact they share many of the same cultic traits. Dogmatic insistence that their own narrow view is the only possible alternative for intelligent and enlightened people. Anyone who disagrees with them are just stupid, dangerously deluded and a threat to society. Intolerantly dismissive of any critical examination of their core beliefs. It’s cultic, and they don’t represent thoughtful moderates. Moderate atheists are persecuted as quislings and compromisers. We’ve had quite a few come through looking for asylum in Canada.”

  This was getting to be way too much information. More than I wanted to know. “I need to get going,” I said.

  “And I need to start making phone calls,” Jorge said. He put out his hand and we shook. “Thanks for coming to me with this, Jack.”

  “I’m not so sure you should be thanking me,” I said.

  “Do you mind if I ask what made you think of me?”

  “It was just a logical deduction. Since Grandpa was running a safe house in the underground, it seemed like good odds some of his friends would know about it. You knew him better than anyone.”

  I got in the car and drove away, feeling relieved that I’d found a solution. If all went well, Paige would be out of my hair by tomorrow afternoon. I could finish the garage roof, close up the cottage and be free to go home the day after tomorrow. I felt much better knowing that there was a plan. And, oddly, it felt good that I was helping Paige. My mind and education told me that I should be turning her in, but my heart argued differently. Paige wasn’t the crackpot fundamentalist we’d been warned about, and I’d decided to go with my heart.

  That good feeling evaporated when I got back to the cottage.

  13

  A strange car sat in front of the cottage when I returned. I parked next to it, wondering who it might be. It was too soon to be Jorge or his friends coming for Paige. It might be Paige’s long delayed ride from the underground.

  With a shudder it occurred to me it might be the Tolerance Bureau. I got out of my car and looked at the other car, and noticed the decal of Amazon Rentals on the side of the door. Relief washed over me. It was not likely the Tolerance Bureau used rental cars.

  But I’d forgotten that my wife did.

  I walked into the cottage, closed the door behind me, and turned around just in time to catch sight of an object speeding through the air towards my head. I tilted my head to one side and the missile whizzed by my ear and shattered against the door frame behind me.

  I looked down at the floor. The remains of a small battery-powered clock lay in pieces at my feet.

  “Quite the cozy little love nest you got here, dear!”

  I looked up. Selene stood across the room next to the wall cabinet where the clock had sat.

  “You’re aim is improving, honey,” I said.

  She snorted and reached for a kerosene lantern. I was across the room in three strides and grabbed it from her hands. “Do you want to set the place on fire?”

  “I’ll set you, this cottage, and all these blasted books on fire!” Her cheeks and eyes were red the way they always get when she is angry.

  “Would you mind telling me what the problem is?”

  Without saying a word, she inclined her head towards the couch. Paige sat there, looking very uncomfortable. I hadn’t noticed her when I came in. I’d been too busy ducking flying clocks.

  I put on a brave smile. After all, I didn’t have anything to be guilty of. Not really. At least not for what she was thinking. “I see you’ve met Paige.”

  “Don’t get cute with me.”

  Paige stood up. “I tried to explain things to your wife, Jack.”

  “She’s a bit young for you, don’t you think, dear?”
>
  “It’s not like that,” I said.

  “I think I’ll just leave you two alone,” Paige said and started walking towards the bedroom where she stayed with the children.

  “You stay right there,” Selene snapped at her. Paige froze, looking between me and Selene.

  I grabbed Selene gently by the shoulders. “Selene, listen, it’s not what you’re thinking.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Really? Then you’d better tell me what it really is.”

  I told her everything. Selene kept looking between me and Paige as I told her the whole story.

  “So you see?” I said when it was finished. “There’s nothing to be jealous of. I’m just trying to help her out.”

  Selene didn’t say anything. She just looked into my eyes, weighing my words, trying to decide what to believe.

  I went for the close. “Have you ever known me to lie?”

  “Well, no. You do have an annoying habit of being painfully honest. You’re almost neurotic about it.”

  “And I’m telling you the truth now.”

  “I’m going to check on Micah and Amanda,” Paige said and quickly left the room before Selene could say anything.

  With Paige out of the room I drew Selene close. “You should know me better than that. I’ve never cheated and I never will.”

  Selene forced a smile. “We still have a problem.”

  “Oh?”

  She stamped her foot and in a low, forceful whisper said, “Don’t be stupid! While I’m relieved to know you’re not having a fling, you are harboring a criminal wanted by the law. That’s a bit of problem, don’t you think?”

  “She’s not a criminal.”

  “According to the law, she is.”

  “Her only crime is one of conscience.”

  “That’s the worst kind!” she cried. “Those people are dangerous. Their crazy religious ideas are precisely what’s wrong with the world. And she is going to raise her kids that way too. The very least we could do is turn her in so that her children can be placed in a better home.”