by Gavin Reese
“If you resign,” John continued, “if you quit, or if you wash out, you don’t ever have to worry about knowing what you missed out on. My program and its rules are designed to ensure that only the winners know what happens next. So, if you fail to meet my standards, or you decide the mystery of this work just isn’t for you, you can head on back to your archdiocese and get your next assignment. No harm, no foul, no hard feelings. And, to help protect the operational security of those you leave behind, you’ll have nothing you can actually report to the world about what we do out here, whatever it is we do, and wherever it is that we are.”
A few moments of silence passed as John looked ready to parry the next question.
“So,” a pale man with Celtic features and longish, auburn hair asked, “does that mean you won’t even give us a general idea about what we’re training for?”
“No, that’s easy, son. You’re training to do God’s work, just like you been doing your whole life, probably. I do, however, promise to spill that secret to every asshole in here that does navigate my course with sufficient precision and accuracy to move on from here. All that matters right now is that your respective archbishops, for whatever reason, assigned you to me and my associates. Any more burning questions that I’m probably gonna refuse to answer here at Minute One?”
Michael followed John’s glance around the eleven other trainees. Everyone but Sergio looks as apprehensive as I feel. This is a damned ‘blue pill or red pill’ moment...
“Just in case you’re skeptical or afraid of what happens next,” John offered, “y’all should understand you ain’t gotta get off the god-damned bus. Nobody’s gonna come through that little back door and shove you out at gunpoint. If you gotta be pushed, I want you to stay right where you are. Do not step onto my property if you feel forced to do it. Everyone has to be here by choice, and you can leave whenever you want, including right now. You got concerns about what’s going on, about what you already saw o’ my place? Think you know what we do here, and you just realized you wanna go do somethin’ else? I ain’t got no problem with that, hell, I appreciate and respect a man that knows his boundaries. It’s best for everyone, though, if you admit that right now and stay on the bus.”
Michael again glanced around and saw most of the others doing the same, as though they all waited for someone to speak or react.
“Well, then. Let’s get your summer camp started a few months early, gentlemen,” John continued. “You can think of this as a vacation Bible study, just for grown-ass men of action, integrity, and the intestinal fortitude to do the hard things that no one else is willing or capable of doing.” Although he uncrossed his arms and moved his hands back down onto his hips, John dominated no less of the bus’s interior. “You, man in the back,” he called out and nodded at Sergio with his chin. “You remember the standing order everyone got when you boarded the bus in Denver last night?”
“Me, sir,” Sergio hesitantly asked.
“You’re the only motherfucker in the back row of my beautiful bus, ain’t ya?”
“Yes, sir,” he quickly replied, “I do remember the order.”
“Anybody break it?”
“No, sir, not one.”
“I said ‘John,’ not ‘sir.’ I work for a living, and you look like you oughta already understand that. I can smell the military comin’ off you, Back Seat. You really want me to believe thirteen men rode a bus together, all night, and not one of you sons-a-bitches said one word to each other?”
“Not that I saw or heard, su, err, John.”
“Guess I gotta take you at your word then, unless someone wants to come clean now. Integrity means everything to me and my folks, so, if you need to get somethin’ off your chest, gentlemen, now’s the time.”
A second pale, red-haired twenty-something seated between Michael and John raised his hand high above his head like they were in grade school. Michael thought he looked like he’d grown up playing football in Nebraska and had assigned him the nickname, ‘Big Red.’ “Uhh, John,” he asked, “I’m pretty sure we’re all priests here, so, I think we oughta come with a little credibility in that regard.”
“The Objector,” John surmised through a smirk. “There’s one of you in every group, like some kinda virus that can’t get killed off until you get here. Well, Objector, we got a program for that. You get off my bus, and it could be the worst mistake of your professional life. Just because you got through seminary, that don’t hold a cup of water with me. All I know for sure is you’re all people, and in my experience, most people can be total pieces of shit, given the opportunity to be so. There’s a reason all my friends got four legs. You bi-pods are despicable, and that’s why I can’t trust any of you until you earn it. You, Objector, you stay seated. Do not get off my bus. We clear?”
“Well, I—”
“I apologize, Objector,” John forcefully interrupted, “I must’ve stuttered in there somewhere to lead you to believe this was a fuckin’ negotiation.” Even through the hat, sunglasses, and mustache, Michael understood the man’s adamant intent. “Do not, get off, this bus. Even if the engine starts on fire, even if it overturns on the way out to the road. Do not, touch, my facility, under any circumstance.”
Michael watched Big Red sink into the green vinyl bench seat, saved from whatever awaited the rest of them. And then, there were eleven.
“I imagine nobody else has a thought they wish to share with the group? Alright, then. Back to you, Back Seat,” John continued and again nodded at Sergio. “You had your own, specific instruction that came with that seat assignment. Which one of them knows someone else on the bus?”
Michael kept his focus on John while the pit in his stomach intensified. He struggled to keep his apprehension from being visible on his face. This kinda man knows how to read people, and I wanna stay, just long enough to see if this place’s what I hope it is. Come on, Serge, don’t mess this up!
“None, John, not that I’ve seen,” Sergio answered without any discernible deviation in his voice.
“We’ll see,” John smirked and replied. “Like I said, integrity is everything to me and my folks. Men that’re unwillin’ to be honest with themselves can’t ever be trusted to be honest with me, and certainly, they’ll never be honest with God, neither. Can’t abide that kinda man here. Not once, not ever. So, if you got a partner on this bus, a friend from an old job posting, maybe from your former life, that’s alright. You didn’t know before you got on the bus. Nothing against you, you just can’t be here. If that’s the case, you don’t even have to be honest with me, but, at least be honest with yourself. Stay on the bus. Let your buddy go forth and fulfill his purpose, his true calling in this life. You can sacrifice yourself, but you’d best do it now, before your feet hit my terra firma. There’s consequence out there. Only thing in here’s another long bus ride that nobody else’ll ever know about. Anyone wanna come clean? Last chance.”
The lengthy monologue served as another reminder of Michael’s police academy experience. The instructors created circumstances to test our integrity. Extra money in the vending machine return slot. Random sodas on the dining hall counters. They always knew the answers to everything they asked, and this might be no different. What if he knows? What if they put Serge and I on here together as a test to see how we’d handle it? Michael breathed, deep, quiet, and calm, to maintain a blank external expression while his innards broiled. John shifted his gaze among the occupants in search of deceit. Fuck it. If they already know, the worst thing that happens is they send both of us home, it’s not like they’re gonna put us in front of a firing squad. I mean, this is, somehow, gotta still be part of the Church, right?
“Time’s wastin’, then, gentlemen,” John finally announced. “Everybody but The Objector dismount. Do it fast, do it orderly, but do it now. Get up on the porch, double-time, go!” John opened the bus doors into yet another gust and ambled down the steps.
Michael momentarily lost sight of John as he and the ten
remaining men hustled up from their seats, grabbed their backpacks or duffel bags, and moved forward to crowd the narrow aisle. Although apprehensive about what might be required of him to succeed here, Michael felt tremendous excitement about the unknown opportunities that could await him on the other side of John’s program. First step is just getting past the doorway. Michael felt the bus shift beneath his feet as eleven motivated men shuffled down its steps and outside.
Through the passenger-side bus windows, Michael saw the front door of the house cracked open. Someone concealed inside stuck their arm out and passed John an upside-down, black felt cowboy hat. He accepted it without a word, and the door immediately closed. Why’d they need to stay hidden? Lots of secrets in this place already. Michael glanced down at Big Red The Objector as he passed. They made eye contact and exchanged nods before he descended the steps into the dim predawn light. John’s terra firma. A subconscious glance up confirmed a lack of overhead threats. I didn’t feel this nervous walking around the slums in Bogotá! A cold, stiff gust greeted Michael as he stepped just beyond the doorway.
“Everybody up here on the porch, quick,” John called out to the group. “Line up facing the house, eyes forward, do it now. Dress right, if you have any idea what the hell that means.”
Michael rushed along with the others to comply, despite the strange, irrational directive. He placed himself in the middle of the group and hoped Sergio, as the last man off the bus, wouldn’t end up near him. A quick glance to his right assured Michael he was in line. Moving his eyes to the house, he picked a small, eye-level anomaly on the wall in front of him and stared at it, just as John had instructed. Not in so many words, but I’m sure this’s what he meant. Michael realized he’d subconsciously positioned himself at-attention. Bet money Serge did the same. He felt odd holding his duffel bags at-attention and dropped them in front of his feet.
“Stand fast, gentlemen,” John directed. The bus door closed behind them, and the engine turned over. Michael heard its transmission shift, immediately followed by the strain of acceleration as the bus pulled forward and turned to leave. “Nobody moves until that sum-bitch is outta my sight. If I can still see him, he can still see us.”
Michael stood still while the racket from the departing bus grew more distant. The wood porch creaked beneath John’s shifting weight as he slowly and deliberately moved among the eleven trainees. Driver must be going slower takin’ off, seems like he brought us here a helluva lot faster than he’s leaving.
“The Objector might be the first to leave my property,” John announced while walking behind the trainees, “but he damned sure won’t be the last. We’re gonna see how many’s left at the end of the day, but, my personal goal, anyway, is always to drop one more. Sending two home on Day One always makes me feel like we still run a tight ship out here, even if it does have to sail on a sea of windswept grass and misery.”
Michael felt the man’s presence and realized John had stopped immediately behind him. He could no longer hear the outbound jalopy. “Now,” John exclaimed, so close that his breath warmed the right side of Michael’s neck, “let’s have us another word about what the fuck I meant by ‘integrity.’”
THIRTEEN
Wednesday, 6:44 AM.
Rural Plains. Niobrara County, Wyoming.
“Like I said before, back on the bus,” John exclaimed in Michael’s right ear, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Integrity is everything to me and my people.”
Michael still stood at attention, even though their apparent new boss hadn’t ever specifically ordered that. This would feel like getting dressed down at the police academy, except I wasn’t hiding anything from the R-T-Os there. How long before we’re pushing on The Grinder? Michael breathed the cold air in through his nose, and his sinuses soon ached from the temperature difference.
John paused before stepping away from Michael and moving down the line to intimidate another trainee. “If you can’t trust the people that swore the same oath, well, then you’re pretty well fucked.” He shouted to be heard and not out of anger. “You’re a dead man walkin’. I will not excuse, pardon, cover-up, or ignore even the slightest hint of deceit. I cannot abide a liar, and I won’t abide any of you if you rub me the wrong way.”
John moved in front of their line. He spread his arms and motioned for the few distant men to step in closer. “Alright, that first asshole’s gone. Bring it in and breathe for a minute, but pay attention to what the hell I’m tellin’ you.” His breath formed visible, short-lived vapor in the cold air as he spoke.
“First thing’s first,” he continued. “I’m not your daddy, not your uncle, and I’m damned sure not your friend. My only purpose in your life is to train you all to do things you’ve never done before, and make sure you shitheads all survive to serve God another day. I don’t care if you don’t like me, but I care greatly that you trust and respect me. We can’t put our lives in each other’s hands otherwise. You can understand, very accurately, that I’m an asshole and we can carry on just fine. But, if you think I’ve harmed or betrayed you in some way, that’s gonna make it hard to get along, and we certainly won’t get any meaningful work done together.
“There’s some rules that y’all gotta be made aware of,” John explained. “No phone, no email, no Yahoo, no twitterpated, insta-hooey bullshit out here. No outside comms of any kind. You get your phones for one hour a week. Make all the calls you want in that time, but we’ll make sure you can’t get messages to the outside world about what we’re doing here. You can let mommy and her new husband know that you’re doin’ great at summer camp and makin’ all kinds-a new friends. I can’t have you end up on the back of a goddamned milk carton, but you’re not gonna threaten my training program, either. You mighta noticed you didn’t have cell service on the way out?” He let the rhetorical question hang for only a moment before continuing. “Yep, not an accident or a coincidence. I’ll let you imagine the details. In the meantime, everything you got with a circuit goes in this box.” He held up what looked like a clear plastic box, about one cubic foot in size, with an exterior metal frame at each juncture of the plastic sides. “Any of you boys smart enough to know what this is?”
Michael waited several seconds to see if John actually wanted an answer this time. “It’s a Faraday box,” he offered when it seemed John wouldn’t proceed without a response.
“That’s right, whiz kid, and what does a Faraday box do?”
“Prevents all electronic signal from reaching or leaving devices inside it.”
“Right again, you get a gold star. Now, all of you, line up here. Dump all your electronics inside the box, step aside, and one of my nameless associates will then search you to ensure you’ve not forgotten to include anything. Sorry, I neglected to make those introductions,” John apologized and stepped back to the wall of the house behind him. He tapped on a nearby window and then stepped forward just as the front door opened. A white female and four men emerged. Two of the men were white, one was Hispanic, and the last one black. Everyone but the black man dressed similarly to John, each with Carhart-style jackets, jeans, and button-down shirts in different colors and patterns of plaid.
The black guy dared to wear khakis, Michael thought. I bet the Canadian Tux Committee makes fun of him for that.
“These folks are my nameless associates,” John explained. “You can call them ‘John,’ or ‘Jane’ as may be as appropriate, if you have to call ‘em somethin’, but they’re here to help. By that, I mean they’re here to help me decide how soon each of you gets to go home. So, like I said, drop your shit in the box, step aside, and they’ll make sure you’re clean. If any of you boys’ve ever been down to your local county jail, this’ll be a familiar experience for you. In the next few minutes, we’ll know for sure if you’re a Jew or a Gentile. Line up, and ready to get real well-known.”
Michael fell into line as instructed and again worked to avoid eye contact and proximity with Sergio. Best if we don’t share much of the s
ame space for a few days, at least, maybe a few weeks. While moving closer to the Faraday box, he took the time to both put his phone in airplane mode and shut it off. It didn’t protect the contents entirely, but at least now John and his team would need access to state-of-the-art decryption software if they tried to get past his security code and peek inside the device without his consent. If cops can get into locked phones, then I’m sure John’s got spook buddies that can do the same. I just don’t wanna make it easy for them if that’s their M-O. Within another minute, he’d dropped the phone and submitted to a very detailed search of his person and clothing. Even without a specific order to do so, all eleven of them lined back up in their original order.
“Next thing to address is your identity,” John explained. “I’ll explain our op-sec later, but, for now, none of you gets to know anything about each other. Includin’ whatever name your momma, or the court-appointed guardian, or both dads named you. The only way to trust everyone is not to trust anyone. So, how do I make sure I can trust all of you assholes not to give my name out to people I don’t want knowin’ it? By not givin’ you my actual fuckin’ name in the first place. If anyone discloses their real name, you’re out on your ear, and you can rest assured that I’ll always know who and where you are, but the opposite won’t ever be true. Please ponder that reality should you ever think you’ve got the drop on ole John.”
He retrieved the black felt cowboy hat his associates had brought out from the house, which, at some point in his wandering monologue, had ended up on the wood porch near the home’s front door. John looked inside the hat, shuffled some pieces of paper around its interior, and then scanned the group. He briefly made eye contact with Michael, and it seemed that some sort of recognition momentarily flashed across his face. “Alright.” He continued looking back and forth among the men but strode in Michael’s general direction.