some relieved sighs as the Newbies unceremoniously began to remove their armor. I stomped away to avoid speaking to anybody.
Not that it did me much good. One person followed me. Trip patted me on my armored shoulder to get my attention. 'Have I ever told you how much I respect your professionalism and restraint?'
'Some people just need a good beating.'
'I agree. The man's a jerk. But last night I talked you out of quitting, so I don't want to see you get fired today,' Trip said as we started toward the cafeteria, new suits creaking. Hopefully they would break in and soften up. My friend continued speaking as if I was one of his former ignorant teenage students. 'You know why he hates you, right?'
I had spoken about my infatuation with Julie Shackleford to Trip. He was my roommate after all. 'I suppose I do.'
'Well, then, you would be wrong.'
'Huh?'
'You think it's because of the girl. Grant probably thinks it's because of the girl too. That's because you're both idiots.'
'Gee thanks, Trip.' We continued walking slowly, talking quietly so the others wouldn't hear our conversation. 'Well, if it isn't because of her, what's his problem?'
'You're his problem. I've seen this before. Grant is the golden boy. He came in here last year and tore stuff up. He's the best at everything. Even the big dogs took him under their wing. I bet he has won at everything he's ever tried. You come along, and you're naturally better than him at some things, so immediately he doesn't like you. It is all about pride, my friend, and Grant is stuffed so full of it it's a wonder he doesn't burst.'
'Okay, I can see that.'
'And you do keep staring at his woman like a slobbering moron.'
'Slobbering?' That hurt.
'And you're a smart ass who can't help but show him up every chance that you get.'
'Fair enough.'
'And you can't handle losing just as bad as him. You're both torn up with pride and, like the Bible says, pride is the sin that will drag you down faster than anything else.'
'Where does it say that?'
'Luke chapter… something or other. Well, that's what my mom said about it anyway.'
'Thanks, Pastor Jones. I'll be sure to keep my pride and my slobbering in check from now on.' I laughed. He was not that much older than I was, but somewhere along the line Trip had gained a lot more wisdom than I had.
'That's Father Reverend Elder Jones to you… heathen. Now let's get some lunch. We got the whole weekend off, and we're going to need our energy. I've got an auntie who lives in Wetumpka, up past Montgomery, and we're gonna have us a party. Have you ever had chitlins? Bona fide Southern delicacy.'
'Can't say that I have. What the hell's a chitlin?' The way he said it, I didn't know if chitlins were a delicacy or a form of torture. Probably could go either way, depending on your perspective.
'Then you're going to have yourself one hell of a weekend, Z.'
Chapter 6
I was dreaming. I found myself in the same field as I'd been in during the strange dream that I had experienced in the hospital. Once again, the crop was lush and green, and my feet were bare. The air was cool and fresh, so I definitely was not in Alabama. The sky was darker and thick black rain clouds were collecting on the horizon. It looked like it was going to be a terrible storm.
The Old Man was there also. This time he was sitting on a small grassy mound. His hair was still wild and white, his cane sat on the ground next to him, and he was absently polishing his small round glasses on a white handkerchief.
'Hello, Boy. Welcome again here.' His accent was still thick, reminding me somewhat of my grandparents on my mom's side of the family. A deep Eastern European sound, but not from any of the languages that I spoke.
'What am I doing here?' I asked, sitting down on the grass next to him. We watched the storm front approach. The wind was beginning to pick up and the crop was waving under the onslaught. 'I thought you said that we wouldn't meet again unless I did something stupid and got killed.'
'I was wrong. I new at this too,' he answered. 'Is closer now. So I help more easy.'
'What is closer now?'
'You will see. It comes.' He pointed at the storm roiling across the distant landscape.
'What comes?'
'The storm. I show you when can. I help you if can.'
'Help me with what?' This was a confusing dream, not helped at all by my host's mangled English.
'The evil comes. The Cursed One brings. You will stop, if can. If not, time will die.' He stated it as if that cryptic information was a simple fact.
'Who are you?'
'I told you. I am friend. I here to help.' He spit on his glasses and continued to polish them. I noticed that he wore a small Star of David around his neck. His clothes were old and simple, and appeared to be sewn by hand.
'What's your name?'
'No one ask that for long time.'
'That doesn't answer the question,' I replied.
'My name not matter now, Boy. I am just Old Man.'
He held up the glasses and examined them, nodding in satisfaction before placing them on his face. 'Is good. Help me up, please.' I stood, and then lent him a hand as he slowly rose to his feet. I retrieved his cane and handed it over. The polished wood was surprisingly heavy and dense.
As I looked up I realized that somehow the storm had drawn impossibly close. The blue sky was blotted out and the wall that was approaching was a swirling mass of darkness, clouds, and lightning. The sky had taken on a green halo and I could feel the energy crackling through the ground. The crop was lying down or being torn out of the soil as powerful gusts struck us.
'We go now. I show you what I can. I need your help.'
'Okay,' I answered, not knowing what else to say.
'You help me. I help you. No can promise it will work, but I will try.' He grasped my wrist. His cold hands were frail and arthritic.
He adjusted his glasses and watched with hard eyes as the storm approached. It was moving across the land like a tidal wave now, closing on us with what seemed like malevolent intent. As it grew closer I could see that there were shapes in the clouds-warriors, monsters, death, plague, famine, suffering, pestilence and war. My pleasant dream was changing into a nightmare. The roar of wind and crashing of thunder and wails of something else washed over us. The wall of black hit us, and we were swiftly engulfed.
Still dreaming. Only now, I was somehow above the MHI compound. I had no body, but somehow I could see, and not only that, I could see everything. Walls meant nothing to me. Maybe seeing wasn't the right term. I was aware of everything. I was not limited by the information that my eyes could register or that my brain could process. I found my body sleeping peacefully in the barracks. Trip, in the bunk above, was reading some pulp fantasy novel as he did every night. The man was a fantasy book addict.
The rest of my fellow trainees were sleeping or pretending to. In the women's barracks I was not surprised to learn that Holly Newcastle slept in the nude. As interesting as that sight was, I moved on. I was no Peeping Tom, or in this case a peeping ghost.
The office/fortress was totally open to me now. It was much larger than any of us had realized, with a huge underground level that was a complete secret to the trainees. In the dark corners I glimpsed that not all of the other employees were human. What a strange dream. On the top floor our instructors were holding a meeting
