The One Percenters (16 page)

This idea smelled of messy. There’s the practical issue of keeping her hidden, not to mention having to supply food, water, etc. I couldn’t see this as a fruitful decision either. This left me with but one option. I would have to take my chances and let her go. She had given me all I had wanted in the first place: an ear to listen. I had no reason to hurt such a delicate flower.

She was on my side. Our side.

Rape never crossed my mind. Fucking, yes.

Rape, no. But if we had fucked, it would have been rape, even if she pretended to enjoy it, out of fear. In fact, I’m a bit surprised I’m bringing it up even now. I was lonely and horny, not desperate for power. After all, I had more power than anyone in the world. I was a walking demigod.

“I’m going to let you go.”

She looked at me hesitantly, not wanting to appear too excited, not wanting to get her hopes up.

“I told you I just needed someone to listen, and I meant what I said. I’m a man of my word. I’m not even going to give you the old shtick about not telling anyone. I can’t imagine anyone keeping this experience to themselves, and nothing I can say now can keep you from going to the cops when you’re out of harm’s way. I can’t just let you run free, though; I hope you can understand that. Just give me fifteen minutes. I
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slipped the bandanna back into her mouth, and laid a gentle kiss on her soft cheek. I whispered a sincere

“Thank you” in her ear, and then I was off.

I walked across the street. I heard nothing from behind me. I was sure that Sam could get a scream past the rag between her lips, but she might be fearful that I was still around. Either way, I didn’t want to dilly-dally.

I crossed the parking lot as nonchalantly as I could. I entered the five-and-dime next to the grocer and looked to buy a pen. Of course they don’t sell them individually, so I was forced to buy a three-pack for $1.39. Considering that I only had about four dollars in loose change in my pocket, I had just spent about a third of my life savings on three black pens.

You see, I made a foolish move after Cristen’s death. A wiser man would have stopped at the bank on the way out of the woods and made a withdrawal.

Once I realized my error the next day, I was too afraid to visit the bank. I
had
been able to make several ATM

withdrawals before my card was disabled. I’m still not sure how they got to me so quickly.

Regardless, that bank account had long been closed, and the 1,600 dollars I had withdrawn were spent. I suppose it was for the better. Material possession was now my enemy, though I sure wish I could have eaten better over the course of that year. I went hungry more than one night in that time.

You never realize what food means to you until you don’t have it, and it’s downright frightening when you don’t. You keep looking at people who won’t give you a handout as though they must be kidding. Certainly they wouldn’t want to go hungry. I mean, what’s a buck between two human beings? Then you realize that the cold reality is most people just don’t care.

People just don’t care. I suppose that must be what it feels like to go to prison. They put you behind those cold, hard bars and you look out at the guard, figuring it must all be a joke. “O.K., buddy, ha-ha. Now let me out of here. I’ve got laundry to do, and I have to mow the lawn.” And the guard only stares back with a steely look in his tired eyes. I suppose it’s only then that
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you realize the true meaning of independence. All those Fourths of July, I didn’t even know what I celebrated. It was just a bunch of fireworks and rock music on the radio. A whole lot of hooting and hollering typical of empty American overindulgence. Hmm. Even with my anger, I never forget how many people have died for my freedom. Not anymore.

I exited the store minus $1.50 (tax), and walked to a green garbage receptacle, the kind which has the recycling symbol painted on its side. I reached inside, feeling around with intent. I was stabbed by something I thought was a needle. I remember thinking to myself what a dumb way to die: getting AIDS from a supermarket trash bin. But it was just a lollipop stick.

Damn thing had a shard of candy left on the end of it. Finally my fishing hand hit pay dirt. I removed a newspaper in good condition. Looking inside it, I found a large coupon page that was nearly blank on the reverse side.

I used my recent purchase to scrawl a quick note, and then pocketed the pens. Who knows when I’d need them again. I pushed the edge of my letter into a crevice in the front panel of the soda machine, and I ran like heck’s older brother, confident Sam would be released within minutes. Along with my explanation of where Sam was tied, I had written: “It is
you
who needs to be forgiven. May God have mercy on your soul.” And I meant it. All except for the God part.

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I took to the woods again. Not only did the quiet, hidden shelter of the forest offer me a convenient hiding spot from the insanity beyond, it also made me feel closer to nature—my employer. The greenery of the tree leaves, the smell of the moss, the sounds of the birds—they all kept me focused and grounded. Just as an artist surrounds himself with color and beauty as inspiration, I had my own creative stimulation.

I retreated to the shadows as often as possible.

And so it was that later that afternoon I sat beneath a large tree, pondering the past and future. I needed to escape again. The trail was getting hotter faster with each event in my life. I found myself having to make decisions more quickly, with less and less time to react to new circumstances. As I sat under that tree considering my next move, I heard something from my left. It was footsteps.

I took my gun—Jill’s gun—from my pocket, silently. I had come this far, and I wasn’t ready to go down without a fight, even if it meant removing a healthy specimen from the gene pool. After all, I was more important than any mainstreamer. My life had meaning. I still had Jill to go home to.

I drew the gun in front of me. I could hear leaves swishing and twigs crackling as they broke beneath heavy shoes. Then I heard a voice:

“Ed. . Edward Caine.”

My hand clenched the trigger more tightly, and I came damn close to firing at nothing at all. Then it occurred to me that the voice was not totally unfamiliar.

It was like a voice in a dream: fuzzy and muffled. Then I saw her.

She lacked both the physical presence of Jill and the spritely aura of Cristen. Her beauty was in her intellect, in her advanced knowledge of the world around us. I doubted the reality of her before me.

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“Get away from me. I have a gun. You’ve done enough.”

“Relax, Ed. The time was not right. You had taken enough from the lesson.” Still, she might have been trying to trick me. She might be wired, or. .

“Ed, it is time for us to move forward together. .

for Jill.” Those words sealed it. It was Darien, and not

“Shirl.”I’m not stupid. “Wait a minute. Stand right there.” I still had my questions.

“If that was real—if
you
were real—how come those people at the bar didn’t see us talking earlier that night? How come they were so quick to take your word?”“You’re not thinking, Ed. It was the nature of the situation. The folks there know me; you were a stranger. So I was given the benefit of the doubt from the start. Secondly, the woman is
always
given more credit. You should know that by now. Think about what I said. I didn’t say I had never met you. I said I didn’t
know
you
.
That’s a truism, at least as far as they are aware. Certainly they don’t know about all this nonsense. I tell them you’re harassing me—a regular female customer—and they have you removed. Tits are a wonderful asset, no?”

“Wait a minute. How’d you even find me here?”

“You have a lot to learn, Ed. You are still limited because you don’t think of yourself any differently.

There is so much more to your role. Soon, you’ll be able to find me anywhere I should choose to go, just as I found you. “

I was flipping through images of Big Brother in my mind, and she must have seen the grim look on my face. “Feels a lot like you’re being watched, hmm?

Well, it’s not like that at all. You’re more free now than you ever have been. You’ll see with time.” She paused.

I can only imagine she did so to take a breath, because her next thought was obviously as well thought out as those she had spoken thus far. I suppose she had given this speech about as often as Thelma Vicaro had given
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her own to my high school classmates.

“You want to know why I didn’t tell you more.

Why I had you kicked out. Well, I had to take care not to tell you too much too soon. I had to hold some cards back. These meetings tend to be overwhelming for newbies. I had to see how you’d react. Besides, you’re much more likely to retain what I tell you this time around.”

“I’d say I took it pretty well.” I beamed.

“Oh, yeah. You were a rock, Ed. You kidnapped a girl. A young, virile girl at that. Like I said, you were a rock.” I was mildly insulted and wished to move this meeting forward as quickly as possible. I also remember thinking her method of handling the situation could use improvement.

“All right, Darien. So we’ve established you are who you say you are, and how you found me. What happens now?”

“Ed, that is for you to determine.” I hate responses like that. Talk about a pet peeve.

“Come on, Darien. That’s bullshit. I’m feeling alone and unsure. You say I’ve got this great new responsibility, and thus far I haven’t heard jack shit from anybody except you about what I’m supposed to do with it. Help me out here, for Christ’s sake.”

“Ed, you’re not listening. When I said it’s for you to determine, I meant it.”

This time I didn’t answer. Darien was smart; I knew that. I wanted to think about her intent. Closed mouth, open mind. She continued before I could come up with anything, however.

“Raise your gun, Ed.”

I did, pointing it at a tree across a clearing.

“No. I mean, raise your gun at me.” I did so, in Pavlovian fashion. Darien was the only one I knew who knew what I knew, if you follow. And she knew a whole lot more than me, I was sure. She spoke. I listened. I raised the gun to the level of her chest.

“Now fire.” But I didn’t.

I don’t mean to contradict myself here. I just told you that when Darien spoke, I listened. This is true.

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But pointing a gun and firing a gun are two different monsters. I wasn’t ready to fire upon a. . a being of her superior knowledge without a little chitchat first.

“Fire?”

“Yes, Ed. I want you to shoot me. Make me bleed.”“But why? Do you want to die?”

“No, Ed. I am long past that stage, although I am quite certain that you still consider the option from time to time. Here, give me the gun.” Things happened very quickly at that moment in time. She reached for my hand, which I pushed forward to make it easier for her to take the gun from my grip. I was very nonchalant, of course, not expecting any fast moves. Fast moves are what I got.

Darien grabbed my hand and laid her right thumb over my left index finger, which pressed up against the trigger. I never had a chance to react, and the gun went off while aimed directly at her chest.

Darien fell backwards, and her dress rode up on her legs. Her shins were dirtied by the forest floor. The shot echoed throughout my surroundings.

She was down and quiet. I wondered what the hell had just happened. I was scared, again. Why had she done this? Why had she left me alone to fend for myself? Why hadn’t she told me more? Most important to me, why had she laid this guilt upon me in my current state? These thoughts went through my head in a matter of seconds. I never even had a chance to move.

Then she moved.

And I jumped.

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“You people really crack me up.” She said this lightly, laughing as she did so.

I stood there, too startled to respond.

“You always need your explanations. I figured it would be faster this way, and by God, I was right. There’s too much say in this world, and never enough do. It’s so mortal of you, Ed; it’s rather quite distasteful.”

“You’re alive, but how? Are you even bleeding?”

“Naw, nothing like that.”

She spoke like a Texan who had just seen a cow.

Entirely unimpressed.

“I took a little shake from the force. You can’t stop physics entirely. But no blood, and certainly not death.”“You’re immortal?”

I made the jump.
“I’m
immortal?”

“Nothin’ of the sort. Slow down, killer.” I chuckled at the irony of her statement, as I was certainly nothing of the kind, at least in this instance.

“I’m immortal—to use your peasant word—to
you.”
“I don’t get it.” I lit up a smoke. I took care
never
to run out of smokes. The stress relief was too valuable in my new world. If I could only thieve one item in a night, it’d be smokes. I’d rather go hungry till breakfast than be without them.

“Ed, we can’t kill each other. Well, it is technically possible, but it would be a very difficult task, it would involve pregnancy, and you’ll forgive me if I don’t grant you the pertinent information at the current time.” She motioned for me to give her a cigarette. I was in no position to argue—a fact about which I am sure she was aware.

“It’s kind of like a safety latch. If I could go