light, and heard her begging, “No, stop, no, stop, Tyler, stop,
He slumped back into the driver’s seat without bringing up his pants. Sasha curled into a fetal position on the passenger seat and sobbed. Across the lake, a giant monster watched it all through a hundred glowing eyes.
2
The knock at the front door pulled Anthony’s attention from the eggs quickly cooking in the pan in front of him. Brendan was already up and watching a cartoon about two bunnies dressed as Mexican lawmen (complete with bandoliers) hunting for a third, presumably evil, bunny that had stolen a supply of carrots. The animation in the show shuttered like the light from a strobe and the show jumped from scene-to-scene at such a frenetic pace that the few times Anthony tried to watch the show with his twelve-year old, he always left the room before his burgeoning headache evolved into a migraine. And yet, Brendan could watch hours of similar-style animation without the slightest apparent damage. Except, of course, for the ADD, which, as good parents, he and Chloe tried to keep under control with the little white pills Dr. Carroll prescribed. Those pills were best taken with food and Brendan’s favorite Saturday morning meal was scrambled eggs and bacon, eggs cooked in the bacon fat.
The knock came again. Whoever it was standing outside on the front porch, their knock suggested neither aggression nor impatience; it was a simple declaration of presence. Even so, Anthony didn’t want to leave whoever it was stranded outside when that person could clearly hear the cartoon bunnies galloping after the evil bunny and shouting,
He thought of telling Brendan to answer the door but that was an invitation for trouble, something newspapers would tout in giant headlines after some escaped sex offender made off with Brendan after the innocent boy answered the door.
Would Chloe sell him out that quickly? A mother’s love was stalwart. For the drug angle to work, though, the newspapers would have to believe that a man who never takes anything stronger than aspirin could somehow get wrapped up in the underworld dealings of Mexican drug trafficking, and all from his humble home in Sky View Estates in Orange County, New York. If anyone was going to go under the microscope of drug use it would be Chloe. Her pills were best taken with food as well. She preferred her eggs sunny side down. How appropriate.
He pushed the scrambled eggs onto a plate and dropped three pieces of bacon next to them. He set the plate on the kitchen table and, as he passed through the family room, told Brendan to get his breakfast while the bacon fat was still hot and tasty.
Anthony opened the front door. A tall man in a black suit had his hand raised to knock again. He slowly brought it down to cup the Bible held in his other hand. His suit was freshly pressed and tailored perfectly to his thin frame. Another man, shorter, though bulkier, like a lineman, also dressed in a black suit, also well-tailored, stood next to the first. This man’s suit was clean, but wrinkles weaved over the pants and jacket like varicose veins. Nearly identical smiles emerged on their faces like the multi-toothed grins of sharks breaking the water’s surface to snatch unsuspecting birds.
“Good morning,” the tall man said. His black hair was parted on the right side and gelled against his scalp; the color matched his suit. “How are you today?”
The shorter man’s hair was also parted on the right side but he had used less gel and several strands of hair were blowing around on top of his head. Neither of the men’s smiles wavered. Sharks approaching for the kill.
“I’m making breakfast, actually,” Anthony said. “For the family.”
Both men nodded in sync. They were either robots or they had done this routine a million times and knew the proper responses intuitively.
“We won’t take but a minute of your time,” the first man said. “We’re here about an exciting opportunity.”
Anthony offered a sarcastic grin. “We already have a vacuum.”
“This is an opportunity to discover your lord and savior,” the second man said and held out a folded pamphlet showcasing a picture of Jesus on the cross with the crown of thorns digging into his skin and blood trickling down His temple.
Anthony should have known. Easter was only a week away, which meant it was prime time for Jehovah’s Witnesses to spread the Good News. He held up his hand and shook his head. The shorter man looked strong enough to break Anthony’s arm in one quick move, if he wanted. Did Jehovahs get angry?
“May we leave you with some reading material?” the first man asked.
“I appreciate you guys have to do this and all,” Anthony said, “but we’re not interested in being witnesses to Jehovah. Thanks anyway.”
The second man did not lower the pamphlet and the first man’s smile did not waver. His dark stare betrayed that smile, though. Something lingered in those eyes that was not wholesome. Maybe the guy was pissed at him for not taking the damned flier, but it could be something else, something stronger than anger.
“We’re not Witnesses,” the first man said. “We’re from the First Church of Jesus Christ the Empowered. We’re not here to spout the old diatribe but to invoke the New Order. Jesus Christ is your savior and His empowerment can empower you.”
“Can
The first man’s smile actually widened, showing off even more of his large, white teeth. Now Anthony knew what that emotion was stirring in those dark eyes—not anger, but malevolence. That sounded extreme, yes, but Anthony was so sure that something was off about the first guy, probably both guys, that he thought again of sensationalist newspaper headlines.
“I’m not interested,” Anthony said with more firmness. The radical newspaper headlines running in his head were ridiculous, of course, but that didn’t mean he shouldn’t be cautious. The world was full of horrible people who did horrible things and you never knew when one of those people would step into your life.
“
The second man stepped forward and the pamphlet grazed Anthony’s chest. Had it been a knife, Anthony would be on the ground screaming. Jesus’ upside down eyes gazed up at him in a tortured expression of anguish.
“You
Unlike the first man’s dark, sinister eyes, this man’s were light blue, yet something stirred in them as well. It wasn’t malevolence, but perhaps something not far off. Anthony wanted to trust him, despite the part of his brain warning that the first man might slide a butcher knife out from his large Bible and begin the slaughter. Perhaps the