Lies of the Prophet

by Ike Hamill

  “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” said Carol. “And just because you’ve successfully kept a dog alive for a few years doesn’t mean you’d be a good parent. So don’t even start with me.”

  “Am I doing you a favor here, or what? Could you possibly be less grateful?”

  “Fine,” said Carol. “I’m sorry. Can we just get back to your house so I can get cleaned up?”

  “You’re not going home?” asked Melanie.

  “No, I can’t. That’s the first place they’ll look,” said Carol.

  “Oh great, you’re in some kind of trouble?”

  “Trust me, the less you know the better. If you can just help me out a little I’ll be out of your hair and I’ll tell you the whole story sometime when it’s safe,” said Carol.

  “Fine,” said Melanie.

  “Did you bring any money I can borrow?” asked Carol. She wanted to lump all the unpleasant conversation together, now that it had started. Melanie had constantly borrowed money from Carol, from when they were little kids all the way up to high school. Carol had drawn the line when Melanie had refused to pay back a loan so she could buy a leather jacket for her no-good boyfriend. Carol had wanted to use that money to go on a class trip. Ever since, the sisters never talked about money. The subject was closed between them because of the deep rifts it caused. She didn’t feel comfortable asking her sister for money, even if it was a very temporary loan, but she didn’t feel like she had any other choice. She needed to get herself on track.

  “I have some,” said Melanie.

  “Can I have it?” asked Carol.

  “Do you really need it right now?” asked Melanie. “I mean, what’s this money going towards? You won’t even tell me what kind of trouble you’re in.”

  “Can I have it?”

  “Yes, fine,” said Melanie. “I have to get it out of my purse though. You promise me that you’re not on drugs or something? You’re not going to use this money to dig yourself deeper into a hole, are you?”

  “You know me better than that,” said Carol.

  “I used to,” said Melanie.

  Carol turned around in her seat and spotted Melanie’s purse on the floor of the car. She grabbed it and brought it to her lap so she could pull out her sister’s wallet.

  “Hey, don’t do that. That’s such an invasion of my privacy,” said Melanie.

  “You’ve got a lot of nerve, asking me if I’m on drugs,” said Carol. “You’ve got a pharmacy in here. How did you ever get someone to prescribe all this junk?”

  “It’s all legal,” said Melanie. “I need those things. Seriously, get out of my purse.”

  “I’m taking this,” said Carol. “She held up a big wad of bills she’d found. I’ll pay you back. I promise.”

  “At least leave me enough to buy gas,” said Melanie.

  “Use your credit card,” said Carol.

  Melanie tried to engage Carol in conversation several times after that—tried to get her to open up and admit who was after her and where she’d been. Carol held her ground. She didn’t want to get caught up in a long explanation that Melanie would never believe. Melanie also pressed for details about Donna, but Carol again held her tongue. Just after Don’s death, Melanie had kept her promise to be helpful, whether she was asked for help or not. Carol had accepted the help begrudgingly, mostly because she was so terrified and overwhelmed that she didn’t know how to say no. Her postpartum depression combined with her fears that she was either going crazy or her new daughter had been replaced.

  It hadn’t taken long for Melanie to wear out her welcome. Carol never got over the feeling that Melanie was pleased by Don’s death.

  They’d worked their way down into this dead-end relationship as if it was the only natural thing to do. Carol wasn’t sure how to back out; she wasn’t even sure if she wanted to.

  CAROL GOT OUT OF HER SISTER’S HOUSE as quick as she could. She did the essentials—cleaned up, ate, and took what she needed for clothes. Melanie objected to each step in her passive-aggressive way. She wanted Carol to shower in the downstairs shower stall, so she wouldn’t dirty either of the good bathrooms. The clothes caused contention. Melanie argued that her clothes wouldn’t fit Carol.

  Carol figured out the secret to navigating the mind games—she ignored everything that Melanie said. She showered in the master bath, and raided Melanie’s closet for comfortable clothes that didn’t look half-bad. Melanie acted upset at first, but didn’t put up much of a fight.

  When she walked out of her sister’s house, she had shoes on her feet and money in her pocket for the first time in weeks. The only thing she lacked was a plan. Her old house, the one with her driver’s license and credit cards, might as well have been on another planet. Carol wouldn’t risk going there.

  Melanie lived a few blocks from the main drag. Carol headed that way, thinking that she might be able to get access to her account if she could find a branch of her bank. The streets were busy with midday traffic. People with no jobs, or perhaps off-shift duties, moved around the small city. Carol smiled as she walked. It felt good to blend in. She was just one of many people doing errands, and moving through life.

  Several blocks later, her new enthusiasm still hadn’t waned, but her energy began to. The food she’d swiped at Melanie’s sat heavy. Carol rested on a sidewalk bench and watched the traffic. She wondered about her job—whether her boss had already given up on her. She wanted to call in, but didn’t know what to say. She didn’t have any idea when she’d be able to get back to work. Unknown forces shaped her life now, and Carol hated to commit when she wasn’t sure she could keep the promise. Plus, she wasn’t sure if she was mentally up to facing work.

  A big bus screeched to a stop in front of Carol, bathing her in sweet, smokey exhaust. Carol looked up, blinking her way back to reality, and blushed when she realized that the bus had stopped for her. She stared up through the open doors into the eyes of a bored-looking driver.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, I’m not waiting,” she yelled to him over the engine noise.

  The driver rolled his half-lidded eyes, closed the door and pulled away.

  As the bus gained speed Carol read the advertisement on the side. It explained how she could earn extra cash from the comfort of her home. Just above the smiling face of the ad lady, who presumably was earning extra cash while Carol sat with no purpose on the bus stop bench, a real woman watched out the bus window.

  Carol stood up when she saw the woman. It was the same woman she’d met at her house when Donna had initially disappeared. She couldn’t remember the woman’s name, but she remembered that the woman had known about Donna. She and her partner had known what Donna really was, and they’d chased after Donna. The woman riding on the bus suddenly seemed like the best hope Carol had to returning her life to normal.

  Carol jumped up and jogged after the bus, thinking that if she could catch up she might be able to get the driver to stop again.

  The bus gained speed and left Carol behind.

  Carol kicked up her own speed and worked her way up to a sprint, gaining on the bus once more.

  What the bus lacked in acceleration, it had in stamina. Carol’s sprint fell away as the bus chugged on. Carol continued the chase though, backing off to an easy jog. She hoped that the bus would pull over for another stop, or perhaps get caught at a traffic signal. When it was about two blocks away, Carol saw the bus’s brake lights. Hope flooded her chest and gave new strength to her burning legs. She pushed forward faster.

  The bus ducked over to the curb and a woman got off. Lynne could see, even at that distance, that it was her woman; the woman whose name she couldn’t remember. She ran faster.

  “Liz, or Linda, or Joan,” Carol thought, but none seemed right.

  The woman, with her blue blouse and tan slacks, crossed the sidewalk and stepped into a single-story building next to a diner. Carol let herself slow, trying to catch her breath. She approached the building. It was a flat-roofed pub, c
onstructed of brick. The windows were filled with lighted signs reading “Budweiser,” and “Coors Light.” Carol pushed open the thick wooden door and a bell jingled. She stepped down—the bar was sunk a couple of steps below street level. By the time the door had banged shut, her eyes had adjusted.

  The pub looked like the kind of place that Carol would enjoy. The inside walls, brick like the outside, looked good against the black-and-white tile floor. The big bar dominated the left side, with a thick pine top. Tables to the right lined the wall. Paintings that hung on each wall were by local artists, and price tags showed that most were for sale. As inviting as the place looked, Carol couldn’t get past the smell of stale beer and the chilly draft, which made her feel cold even though it was a warm day outside.

  Carol’s eyes swept the bar twice, looking for the woman in the blue shirt, before she realized that she recognized the guy sitting at the far table. She didn’t recognize the man he was sitting with.

  She approached—“Don’t I know you?”

  “Yeah, prolly,” he said.

  “Weren’t you at my house last week?” asked Carol.

  “Are you going to sit down and buy us a drink?” asked the other man at the table. Carol became sure she’d never met this other guy. His scratchy voice would have left an impression.

  Carol pulled out a chair and apologized before she sat down—“I’m sorry, I don’t have any money to buy drinks.”

  “S’ok,” said the man she recognized. “I’ve got plenny.”

  “So you were at my house, right?”

  “Yeah, but not lass week,” said the man. “It was a few weeks ago. I’m Jenks, what’s your name again?”

  “Carol.”

  “Oh yeah, Carol. Carol, this is Jerky,” he waved at the man across the table.

  “Nice to meet you,” Carol said as she nodded at scratchy-voiced Jerky.

  “I guess it was a few weeks,” said Carol, turning back to Jenko. “I’ve got to tell you, my life has been pretty much upended since that day.”

  “Oh yeah?” asked Jenko. “Pretty much me too.”

  “Well, I’ve got to figure out what to do next,” said Carol. “I’m afraid that I can’t resume my life until I get this whole thing straightened out.”

  “Good luck with that,” said Jerky. “I’ve been trying to get this guy straightened out for years, but he just keeps fighting it.”

  “You funny,” said Jenko.

  “We’re on a celebrity-skip day,” Jerky explained to Carol. “This guy calls me up, tells me it’s celebrity skip day, but then he’s mostly drunk before I even get over here. That’s not the way it’s supposed to be played.”

  “D’you blame me?” asked Jenko.

  “Not really,” Jerky laughed. “You want a drink?” he asked Carol. “It can be arranged.”

  “No, I’m okay,” said Carol. “So Jenks, you work for The Commission, right? Can you guys help me with my case? I’m being tracked by non-human things and I need some protection or something. I just want to get everything back to normal.”

  “Yeah, me too,” said Jenko. He paused and then laughed at his own statement. Jerky joined him in laughing, and Carol had to wait it out. “I’m a little long inna tooth for a guy to start over. I definitely need to get all my shit back to normal. It’s funny, you never know when you’re going to come up short. I thought I was doing a good job and all.”

  “So you can help me? Get the Commission to help me get everything straightened out? Maybe arrest the inhuman thing that’s been impersonating my daughter?”

  “Nope. Oh no, no,” said Jenko. “You have the wrong idea about me. I’m not with The Commission. Whoever told you that was a big liar.”

  “I think it was you,” said Carol.

  “Now that’s a dirty lie too,” said Jekno. “I never told anyone that. Lots of people may have assumed it, but I was never part of it.”

  “Well what are you then, if you’re not part of The Commission? What were you doing at my house?” asked Carol.

  “Just doing my job,” said Jenko. “Turns out I wasn’t that good at it, but I tried. Really the only thing I ever thought I was good at, but I failed. I watched her get dragged away. Did I tell you that, Jerky? Did I tell you how they dragged her away?”

  “I never even met her,” said Jerky.

  “She was great,” said Jenko. “I didn’t know her long, but I could tell she was going to be a good par’ner. She just cared. And she had no idea how good she was at the job. She was like a bonfire. So talented. Did I tell you about the cat?”

  “Yeah, you mentioned the cat,” said Jerky.

  “Look, you must know something about all this,” said Carol. “Can you help me? I have to get my life back.”

  “I’m sorry, no,” said Jenko. “I can’t help you get your life back. I can’t even get my life back. You know what happens? You spend all this time waiting to be allowed to do something and then by the time you’re actually able to make it happen, you no longer believe that anything is possible. You know what I mean? After everyone tells you to be realistic for a couple of decades you’re lucky if you can even tie your shoes without being crippled by self-doubt. You know how old I am?”

  “Too old,” said Jerky.

  “That’s right,” agreed Jenko.

  “Where’s the woman?” asked Carol.

  “What woman?” asked Jenko.

  “The one that came out to the house with you? Linda?” asked Carol.

  “Oh,” said Jenko. “Lynne. I told you—I lost her.”

  “Pardon?” asked Carol. She looked around the small bar and wondered where the bathrooms were located. She figured that must be where the woman in the blue shirt had gone.

  “She’s gone. They took her away. That was the one thing that I was supposed to do more than anything else: protect her. Every night when I’d put in my report and every morning before I’d get my assignment, they always said the same thing. Someone was after her from the start. One of their mediums channeled it or something. We thought it was that little boy thing, but it turned out to be Gregory after all. I didn’t really think that Gregory was talking about her anyway. Half the women employed by the Vermin fit that description. Could have been any of them, but it turned out to be mine.”

  “You’re not making any sense,” said Carol. “Could you just tell me where she went? I’m looking for someone to help me, and I thought it might be nice if that person was at least half sober.”

  “I’m not as think as you drunk I am,” said Jenko. He winked to let her know he was kidding. “Look, lady, I told you a couple of times already—I don’t know where Lynne is at. Her stupid fat roommate called up Gregory and told him that she thought Lynne was the one he was after. A couple hours later they showed up and before I could get any backup, they had stuffed her in a van and taken off. I lost track of the van when their chase car ran me off the road a half mile later.”

  “When did this all happen?” asked Carol.

  “A few days ago, I guess,” said Jenko. “I don’t know, how long have I been drinking, Jerky?”

  “Couple of weeks,” said Jerky.

  “Okay, a couple of weeks then,” said Jenko.

  “And you haven’t seen her since?” asked Carol.

  “Nope, not a trace. I looked everywhere,” said Jenko. “Really hard to stake out Gregory though. He moves like cool mist.”

  “Poetic,” said Jerky.

  Jenko laughed.

  “How come I just saw her walk in here then?” asked Carol. “You didn’t see her just walk through that door?”

  “I did not,” said Jenko. He was still smiling when he hoisted his drink to his lips, but his arm stopped halfway and the smile disappeared. “Wait, did she have a cast on her left arm? Was it in a sling?”

  “Nope,” said Carol.

  “And you’re sure it was her?” asked Jenko.

  “She was only ten feet away from me,” said Carol. “I’m as sure about that as I am that we’re talking
now.”

  “What did she say to you?” asked Jenko.

  “Nothing,” said Carol. “She was on the bus that drove by me.”

  “And then she came in here?”

  “Yes.”

  “City bus?” asked Jenko.

  “Of course, what else would I have meant?” asked Carol.

  Jenko was up out of his seat before she finished her question—“Come on, you’re driving,” he said.

  “Driving where?” asked Carol. “I can’t drive, I don’t have a car.”

  “Shit,” said Jenko. “Jerky?”

  “No way. I’m walking home. I’m half lit up,” said Jerky.

  “Yeah, me too,” said Jenko. He picked up his black bag from under the table and strode over to the bar where the bartender unloaded the dishwasher. Carol noted that had she just walked in, she never would have guessed how drunk he was. She wondered if his slurred words had been an act. Jenko talked to the man behind the bar who then picked up a phone. “Come on,” Jenko said to Carol. “We’re getting a cab.”

  “I told you I don’t have any money,” said Carol.

  “That’s okay, I do.”

  SHE HAD HER DOUBTS about Jenko, but got in the cab anyway. He wouldn’t explain much as they stood out on the street waiting, and he didn’t explain anything once they were in the cab. He gave the driver a set of instructions instead of an address. Carol watched out the window as they passed by the airport. They were moving away from the manufacturing and office buildings and past the outskirts of town into a more wooded area. The houses thinned out along with the sidewalks and street lights.

  “On the right, up here,” Jenko informed the driver.

  When Jenko ordered the cab to stop Carol couldn’t see a house in sight. No mailboxes graced the narrow road, at least none that Carol could spot. Jenko got the phone number of the cab company and climbed out of the back seat.

  “You coming?” he asked Carol.

  “Coming where?” she asked. “Are we somewhere?”

  “Just come on,” said Jenko.