The Final Testament of the Holy Bible

I would disagree.

As is your right.

You were living illegally on public land and hoarding weapons designed to kill people.

If the land is public, why can’t we use it?

Because it was designated for other purposes.

And how can the most heavily armed, most militarized government in the history of civilization tell its own citizens they can’t arm themselves in preparation for the coming annihilation?

The coming annihilation?

Yes.

The apocalypse?

If you want to call it that.

You believe it’s coming?

Yes.

The seals have been broken and the signs are appearing?

No.

The Bible says so?

It does, but those words mean nothing to me.

Christ is coming back to do battle with the Devil?

Is that what you believe?

What I believe is irrelevant. I want to know what you believe.

I’ve told you.

This have something to do with Allah?

It has nothing to do with religion.

Then how do you know?

Look around you.

And what will I see?

That it’s coming to an end.

And you can see it?

In a way.

And it’s coming soon?

Yes.

I took a deep breath. I wasn’t sure if he was a fanatic or mentally ill. In either case, interrogation is virtually useless. Fanatics don’t break unless extreme techniques are used, and those sorts of techniques were forbidden in my branch of the government, and whatever the mentally ill say is considered unreliable, and is usually unusable in court. He closed his eyes and started taking deep breaths through his nose. I asked him if he was okay, and he slowly nodded. I asked him if he needed something to eat or drink, and he slowly shook his head. He just breathed, and I waited. After a minute or so, I thought I’d leave him alone, grab a cup of coffee, and come back and try again. When I stood up, he opened his eyes, and he spoke.

I can take it away.

Excuse me?

I can take it away from you.

What are you talking about?

I’m sorry. Terribly sorry.

What are you sorry for?

For your loss.

What the fuck are you talking about?

You lost a child.

I was stunned. I was shot in the line of duty during my first year as an agent, shot in the shoulder with a.38 caliber revolver. The bullet entered my shoulder and exited my back. Ben’s statement shocked, hurt, confused, and scared me more than that shot, more than anything in my life, except the event to which he was referring. There was no way he should have known. He had never seen or heard of me before I entered the room. I had asked all of my colleagues not to talk to me about it. We had not released an obituary, so it had not appeared in any sort of media. At the time, I believed there was no way he could have known, though that belief certainly changed.

I sat back down. I looked at him. He hadn’t moved. He just stared at me and waited for me to say something. I couldn’t speak, and if I had tried, I would have broken down. I stared at the table and clenched my jaw and thought about my little boy, about the first time I saw him, immediately after he was born, about the first time I held him, two minutes later, about a picture, which I could not look at until after I met Ben, of me and him and his mother, who I am no longer with, taken just after we brought him home. I think about his room in our house, about his first step, about his first word, which was Dadda. I replay his life in my head, and I think about how happy we were for the two years we were together. And then he started twitching, and having trouble walking, and he went into the hospital and he never came out and my life fell apart, except for my life at work, which was the only thing I could cling to in order to stay sane. I lost everything else when I lost my little boy.

I lost everything that mattered to me.

Ben waited until I looked up. I can only imagine what my face must have looked like, certainly not the cool calm federal agent trying to be an intelligent, convincing, and intimidating interrogator. He spoke.

Release one of my hands.

I can’t do that.

Yes, you can.

I won’t do it.

You’ll be able to walk through your front door without crying. You’ll be able to sleep at night.

You’ll be able to call her, and tell her you miss her, and you’ll be able to love again, and live again.

Fuck you.

I know how much it hurts.