Birth of a Dark Nation (16 page)

My intercom beeped and I picked up the
phone.

"Good morning, Jennifer!" I said cheerfully
to my executive assistant.

"Good morning, Justin! Mr. Oliver is here to
see you."

"Thanks, send him up."

I continued to look over the MOUs, but within
seconds, Dante was at my desk.

"So you goin' on missions now?"

"What?"

"You know what the fuck I'm talking about,
nigga."

"Yo, who do you think you're talking to?"

"Somebody who almost got himself killed,
that's who!"

"I didn't almost get myself killed.
Everything's fine."

"Everything is not fine! You went into the
heart of the Anubis Society and planted bugs in they house? You
really think that's a good idea?"

"So I guess Victor told you?"

"Of course he did."

"He just told you to get under your
skin."

"This ain't about him, this is about
you."

"Calm down. I went in the daytime."

"Daytime my ass! They got cameras."

"I was in a UPS uniform with a hat on, they
couldn't see my face on film."

"You think they can't smell you? You think
they can't tell when a human they don't recognize has been in their
house?"

"I did this for you."

"You didn't do this for me, sir. You did this
for Victor. I didn't ask you to do this and I would never ask you
to do this. What you did was incredibly stupid."

"They have your brother, Dante! If you were
going to get any closer to finding him, you needed somebody—a
non-Razadi—to somehow get on the inside. And I did. I don't even
understand how this wasn't even on your radar."

"Are you suggesting that getting my brother
back wasn't a priority? Because it was. But I follow the protocol
of my tribe, and at the end of the day, I know what my prime
directive is."

"And what's that?"

"To protect you!"

"I am not a fragile flower, Dante, so stop
treating me like one."

"And you are also not invincible!"

Steve knocked on the door and poked his head
in.

"Everything okay in here?" he asked. "Sounds
like…"

"We're fine," Dante said, immediately looking
Steve in the eyes. "Everything's fine here, you may leave."

"Alrighty then!" Steve happily said, as he
closed the door.

"Did you just hypnotize him?"

"D'uh."

"Well excuse me. I didn't know you could do
that. Anyway, don't hypnotize my staff!"

"I needed privacy!"

I turned around and looked out of the
window.

"Justin."

"What?"

"Please look at me."

I turned back around and faced Dante, looking
him in the eyes.

"Yeah?"

"You will not return to the Anubis
Society."

"Is that an order?" I shot back.

"I said…you will not return to that
mansion."

"Dude. You are totally trying to fucking
hypnotize me!"

"Yeah, so?"

"But you can't?"

"I guess not."

"Ha!"

"Don't mock!"

"Ha, ha! That's what you get!"

"I'm just trying to protect you, Justin,
shit!"

"Listen. I went to that house because Victor
asked me to and because it was the right thing to do. Victor just
wants Orlando back and I don't blame him. I was never in any
danger."

"But you might be now. That's all I'm
saying."

"Well. Maybe I am. Maybe I'm not. Listen, how
about this: I'll promise you no more solo missions if you can
promise not to bully me or lock me away in a tower for my own
good."

"There's shit at play here that you just
don't understand."

"Then help me understand. Let's do this as
partners and friends, not as a master and slave, okay?"

"I ain't mean to make you feel that way,
aight?"

"I know. Let's just do this differently
moving forward. Deal?"

"That's a deal."

"And if you ever try to hypnotize me again,
we're gonna have a fuckin' problem."

"You want to go for a walk?" Dante asked me
out of the blue one Sunday morning.

"Sure," I said. "Why not?"

"And we can grab some breakfast or something
while we're out?"

"I'd like that," I said.

After showering and putting on some clean
clothes, we left my apartment and stepped into surprisingly cool
summer air.

"It feels amazing out here," I said.

"Doesn't it?" Dante asked. We took the back
door out of my building and took the long way down to Kennedy
Street, through the alley and around a massive vacant lot. Just
prior to my move in, there had been an apartment building much like
mine standing there, but it was a notorious tenement-a slum where
the real dregs of Kennedy Street lived. But for some reason, rather
suddenly, the building was haphazardly demolished, and a pile of
rubble sat there in its place. It was only as a result of many
complaints from the neighbors and a sassy neighborhood activist
appearing on the local news that the owners did finally clean up
the refuse. Now, it was just a flat mound of dirt and rocks that
grass and weeds were rapidly overtaking. It might turn into a nice
green space if the city would do something with it.

I paused at the corner of the vacant lot and
waited for Dante to pick up his leisurely pace.

"I'm here, man. I can see you."

"But I can't see you," I laughed. "You
walkin' behind me like secret service. Come on. Walk with me."

He bashfully picked up his pace and joined
me. I smiled at him and looked away.

As we walked, we heard the loud argument
between the two drug addicts I always saw walking up and down
Kennedy Street: a black lady pushing her child in an old, ratty
stroller and her partner, a sleazy white guy in need of a haircut
and a bath.

She pushed her child along with no regard for
the bumps and cracks in the sidewalk. The conversation was so
inane, so loud and rambling, that even the kid himself seemed to
beg Dante and I for a rescue.

As I stared at the baby, Dante stared at the
couple with the slightest look of contempt.

Their argument was about money. It sickened
me to know that they were off to score some dope with their baby in
tow.

Dante and I looked at each other and shook
our heads in silence.

As I looked further down the street, I saw a
small herd of little old ladies in white waddling down the street
toward us.

"That's precious," I said. We got closer to
them and saw women of different ages, from their 40s all the way up
to a wizened women of about 90, all taking their time to get up
Kennedy Street, presumably on their way to church.

"Good morning, ladies," Dante said, nodding
to them.

"Good morning!" they replied cheerfully. We
stepped to the side and let them all pass.

"Must be on their way to communion," I
mused.

"Why you think that?"

"Because they were all dressed in white. I
don't know. Either that or they were the missionaries."

I sighed.

"What's wrong?" Dante asked.

"Nothing. Those ladies make me miss my
grandma."

"What happened to her?"

"She died a few years ago."

"Oh. I'm sorry man."

"It's cool."

We walked in silence for a few more paces,
passing several corner stores and closed liquor stores.

"You don't go to church, do you?" I asked
Dante.

"Nah, I don't. You?"

"Sometimes."

"Why only sometimes?"

"I was raised in the church. Sometimes I miss
it. The music. The message. But then again, I don't suppose I ever
really identified with it."

"With Christianity?"

"Yeah. I find religion to be really
hypocritical, especially Christianity."

"That's true. Jesus wasn't like most
Christians at all."

"You say that like you knew him. Wait. Did
you know Jesus?!"

"I'm not that old," he laughed.

"Well then, why you don't go to church?
Because of the hypocrisy?"

"No."

"Then why not?"

"Because I don't need to."

"Why not? You got a free ticket to heaven
already?"

He laughed. We turned left on Fifth Street
and began walking north, up a slight hill. A Metrobus passed by us,
spewing black pollution and noise into the quiet air.

"Church is for people who have faith. I don't
have any."

"You don't have any faith? That's
depressing."

"Why?"

"You're too young to give up on
humanity."

"Humanity? Oh, no, you ain't feelin' me," he
laughed. "I don't mean I don't have faith in people. I mean I don't
need faith. Faith is what you hold onto when you can't make sense
of the mystery of conception, the complexities of life, and the
senselessness of death. Faith means an acceptance that everything
happens for a reason and that it's vaguely good. It's a belief in a
higher power that we presume to be benevolent. We have faith
because the opposite of faith is nihilism, and maybe even insanity.
I mean, what would you do if you knew for a fact there was no God?
For a fact? That when you cease breathing, there's nothing else?
That there is no white light or heaven or reunion with your friends
or loved ones?"

"Well, I'd be really sad, to say the least.
Depressed. I might not have a reason to get out of bed, maybe."

"Right. Justin, I don't need faith. I know
that there is more than just humanity, that there is a before the
before, and that there will be an after the after. I have proof
beyond faith."

"Proof beyond faith."

"Yes."

"An interesting concept."

"Not a concept at all. It's just a fact.
There is more out there. And somebody once wrote-a long time
ago-that one day, everybody is just going to know. They will all
have proof."

I paused for a long moment.

"If everyone has proof…beyond faith…that
there is an afterlife, or God, or whatever higher power, then
wouldn't everyone lose their free will at that point? Wouldn't that
make right and wrong irrelevant?"

"Maybe. Or maybe it could just be the most
beautiful thing in this world. Something we've been waiting for
since the dawn of time."

"You should know. You were there."

"I ain't that old, nigga," he laughed. We had
reached the park next to Coolidge High School. We turned to the
right, taking a pathway through the park toward downtown Takoma
Park, just over the DC line.

"So, what is it?" I asked.

"What's what?"

"The proof."

"Oh, well, it's like one of those
things…you'll know it when you see it."

"Come on! That's no different from any other
religion!"

Dante ran ahead of me in the wooded park and
climbed quickly up the side of a tree. More precisely, he ran up
the side of the tree with little effort or resistance from
gravity.

"Dante!" I called. "Get down!" I looked
around to make sure nobody had seen.

He smiled back at me.

"You don't have to believe what I believe,"
he said. "But I know there is more. And one day, you will know,
too."

"Okay, stop being weird. Just come down."

He jumped straight down from the branch he
sat on and ran directly up to my face, which he kissed.

"You'll see," he promised.

"First thing's first," Victor said, as he
settled into his seat at the Magdalene House conference room. "How
are things going here?"

"Things are excellent," I said, handing him
and Dante my quarterly report. "Here are all the details. But the
major things you'll want to know are that the actual housing
facility is now at capacity. Thirteen families are in the building.
Each of our case managers has a full caseload. As you know, we've
been taking on any client who is HIV positive and needs help, not
just women. This expansion allows us to stay busy and stay relevant
in the HIV community here. We're quickly overtaking our
competitors."

"Not that you have to compete," Victor
said.

"Yes. You're right. It's not a competition.
Still, I can't help but to try to measure our success against the
organizations which take government funding. And frankly, guys?
We're just able to do more without the red tape of the
government."

"We're happy to be able to help," Dante
said.

"And the training program is taking off, too.
People are most excited about that. And so am I."

"Magdalene is going to do big things. I can
smell it," Dante said.

"Yeah, yeah, okay, now what about the Anubis
Society?" Victor said, as he pushed my report to the side.

"Glad you asked," I replied. I opened up my
laptop and pushed play on the software that linked up to the
recordings I had collected from the mansion.

"Now, I've gotta tell you, the batteries on
these devices really only last about a week, so I doubt we get much
more than what we've already heard. But I think we've heard a great
deal."

At first there was static, but shortly the
voices filled the conference room.

.

Yeah, they're going to the National Life Lab.
Bethesda, like a block from NIH. No, the other side, by the
library. Right. No, he's sleeping peacefully most of the time. He
only fights when the morphine is low in his system.

"I'm pretty sure that was about Orlando," I
said. Victor nodded.

.

What are we going to do about Malcolm?

There's nothing to do. He's loyal to us. Let
him eat how he wants.

He's going to get us in trouble one day.

I doubt it.

.

"That was about Malcolm. As far as I can
tell, he's the muscle. Chief of security at night."

"Go on," Victor said.

.

Try some.

I'm not going to try any. Nigel will kill us
if hears any of that dude's blood went missing before it got to
National Life.