“Am I the only one who sleeps?” I felt really guilty.
“You were unconscious. I wouldn’t call that sleeping. Besides, it’s barely five a.m. You should take a nap, too. It’s going to be a crazy day.” With one last smile, he left the room.
My body rhythm was off. I walked over to the couch. Bartholomew had left me a brand-new computer, with a bow and everything. I flopped down on the couch and got comfy with my new toys. Bartholomew had created a loop of my lullaby and stored it on three different MP3 players. At least something good was happening for once.
Chapter 32
A nap was not part of my master plan for the morning. Unfortunately, once again Morpheus won, and I was out. I was having another fabulous dreamless night. One of the major benefits of Reapers was the lack of dreams. I wasn’t sure whether it was the wards on the building or just having some of Death’s blessing, but ever since I had moved in, I hadn’t dreamed. The nightmares had stopped, and I was resting. Sleep was a friend, something that I had never known before. I enjoyed going to bed and hated getting up. In a strange way, I finally felt somewhat normal in that area.
I was sure I was in REM when I was, sadly, interrupted by a call from Shorty. I was afraid I had created a monster. The man truly believed he was an informant for the CIA, or maybe the FBI. I barely managed to say hello in a sleepy, comatose stage. He delivered this message: “Boss, Church under the Bridge, nine o’clock. See you there.” Then he hung up. I was too dumbfounded to think. It took me at least five minutes to process the situation. According to the phone, it was 8:17 a.m. If I needed to be downtown, I had to leave by 8:45 a.m. That wasn’t a lot of time to shower and get ready. For a person obsessed with time, I was always running late.
I was tired of quick showers. My godmother would never believe this. One of my favorite things was to take long showers and let my mind wander. I never managed to do that anymore. This job was really affecting my life. I was out the door with a toaster strudel in less than twenty-five minutes. I wasn’t expecting to find parking near the bridge, so I wanted to have plenty of time to walk to the Mass. It was a blessing I did. I managed to hit every red light between Reapers and the service. I was starting to believe this was a test.
By the time I arrived at South State Line’s Bridge on Broad Street, the service had started. I was fairly impressed. The Church under the Bridge had over a hundred people truly worshipping. They had a band that was really good. A small lectern where a man with long, Jesus-like hair watched the band in delight. He was a handsome guy, maybe in his midthirties, with a nicely groomed goatee. I made my way to the crowd right as he started to minister. A small sound system was set up to one side.
The man’s voice was electrifying. There was a passion and a love in his speech that had the crowd transfixed. The crowd was even more impressed. All races, all colors, all religious beliefs were represented. Rich and poor stood side by side, caring for the Lord. The cynic in me wasn’t sure what to think. Instead of analyzing it too much, I looked for Shorty. If he was trying to find a busy public place, he had definitely found one. How was I supposed to find that goofy man in this crowd?
After I had done couple of laps around the outside of the crowd, Shorty was nowhere to found, and I was getting tired. I stopped to listen to the sermon. The pastor was talking about love, hope, and knowing we were children of God. Knowing we were meant for greater things and that our first calling was to care for one another. I wasn’t sure if I was moved to action, but his words hit a core in my soul. Before I could think of the message, I felt more than saw a person walking behind me.
“Boss, don’t look my way. We don’t want to attract attention.” Shorty was extremely paranoid and delusional. I was praying it was not a horrible idea getting him as an informant.
“Of course not. I would hate to look shady.”
“Everyone is suspicious around here. Now listen, before they see us together for too long. It’s going down tonight. They plan to have the packages to the other side by six p.m.” He took a sip from his cup. By the smell, it was really strong coffee.
“Are you sure?” That was not a lot of time.
“According to my sources that heard them speaking, they need to be on the other side before the sunset and the packages prepped.”
“Sunset at this time of year is around seven o’clock. That’s cutting it close, if they only need an hour.”
“They kept talking about crossroads. Something to do with major street crossings at a central location.” Shorty was sipping his coffee as he spoke.
“Anything else, Shorty?”
“The place is somewhere downtown. That’s all we heard.”
OK, so downtown and probably in between the two Catholic churches. I needed a map. Hopefully, Bartholomew would be up by the time I got home.
“Nice job, Shorty. Is there any way you could get word to the underground to stay away from downtown? It’s going to be dangerous tonight.” I didn’t want tons of collateral damage or more prisoners.
“Consider it done, boss. Anything else?” Shorty would have made a great soldier.
“Check in with me tomorrow. Take a count of how many people you have starting out, and again at the end. We
