Callisto (46 page)

They all agreed with that and give Preacher Bob a fine hand of applause to keep him going. He waited till they're all calmed down again, then he says, “So the forces at large in the world, both here and abroad, my friends, are telling me – telling
you
– that we must not speak our minds for fear of a bloody result, an incident – many incidents – of carnage that would be avoided by keeping our mouths shut. I ask you this – is there any real difference between those voices overseas telling me to keep my mouth shut and those voices here at home telling me the same thing? Can you see any difference?” The congregation could not, no way, and Bob goes on. “So this thing that we call free speech, this thing
sanctified
in the Bill of Rights, is in fact a will-o'-the-wisp, a thing that isn't really there, or there part of the time but not there all of the time, according to your politics. This very day, my friends,
this very day
I have been informed by certain members of Congress that what I did last week was not allowable under the law of this land. That I cannot and must not endorse a political candidate for the highest office over the airwaves because this violates the
separation
of Church and State. I have been warned, my friends, that if I persist in doing this I will be audited by the Internal Revenue! They say I'll have the tax-exempt status of my business – which I remind you is also
God's
business – removed!
Removed!
They think they can dictate to a man of principle simply by way of the office they
were elected to by the good people of America. Well, I have got news for them. The good people of America will not take kindly to having their churches messed with by the Internal Revenue! Remove our tax-exempt status? I'd like to see 'em try!

“Americans are not cowed by threats, not even by explosions in our midst as happened in Kansas just four days ago. That was a bomb went off by mistake, I think that's plain. Who knows what its intended target might have been. I do know this much, friends. If that bomb had gone off as planned right next to the target of choice, Americans would have died by the hundreds, if not the thousands. They are not done with us yet, those terrorists. That bomb in Kansas proves it. That bomb, my friends, was our latest wakeup call. And I make the following statement to our elected representatives in Washington as
their
wakeup call. I say to them – we will not defeat this implacable foe by dividing our house! We will only survive this onslaught from within and without by electing men of purpose and will and grit! We will not survive by endlessly talking and accommodating and backing down before our enemies! America must realize, once and for all, where its destiny lies!”

They just loved Preacher Bob for what he says, and it sounded good to me too, only I didn't get to hear more because one of the soldiers comes along then and switches off the TV and picks it up to take away. I told him, “The Lieutenant said I could have that,” and he says back at me, “Lieutenant Harding just now said Go get that TV, you've had enough.” And away he went with it. That's all I got, less than an hour. Listening to Preacher Bob, I felt like joining the
Army all over again to defend America against all those crazies that want to kill us and change us into Islamites, but now with the TV gone it made me think how shitty it'd be to serve under someone like Harding. Playtime is over and I'm a prisoner again.

I didn't know what time it was, but Preacher Bob's show comes on late so it's getting near midnight now. I got to this place before dawn and went through a whole lot of bad shit already. I did not earn any of this except by being dumb, not mean, but nobody will believe this. Getting punished for being dumb is not fair, but so what, it's happening anyhow so I have just got to tough this situation out and hope someone gets through to Preacher Bob and Chet about me. Those two will get me out of here even if nobody else gives a damn. If I was the praying kind I would send a prayer asking them to hurry up and spring me before I get stomped down into a greasy spot on the floor here. I bet Bob would tell me I had to have faith, and I do, I have got faith in Bob and Chet. They are real men that know who I am and have been friendly. I could not send a prayer to God instead of them, because if he's there, God is too busy with the big jobs like keeping all those planets and stars and so forth from bumping into each other out in space. So I have just got these two on my team, but it's enough to let me lay down all stinking and naked and turn my face away from the light and slide away into sleep at last.

L
ieutenant Harding woke me up so I guessed it's morning now. He says, “Today we've got outdoor activity scheduled, Deefus. How do you feel about getting out of this place for awhile?”

“That'll be good,” I said.

“Don't make predictions,” he says, but he's smiling, so maybe it will be okay, you can't tell with someone like this that thinks I'm his enemy.

He handed me a fresh jumpsuit and I put it on, then he had me handcuffed and blackbagged and taken along the corridor by two soldiers holding onto my arms. I heard a door open and the heat outside hit me like I walked into an oven. I had not been given breakfast but it must be way past early morning for the day to be this hot already, so this is punishment after all, this outdoor activity with no food inside me. But I expected that so it's not so bad. If I had believed
Harding's smile I would be feeling twice as bad.

I could feel rough ground through the soles of my slippers which are real thin. The soldiers guided me to a spot and told me to get down on my knees, which I did and felt gravel digging into my knees through the jumpsuit. My hands are behind me and all I can see is blackness from the black bag, but I can feel the ground beneath me and the sun overhead. That is some powerful object they have got overhead in the tropics, not like the sun at home. This is like a sledgehammer that someone heated up in a forge before they hung it in the sky for those rays to come down hot and hard on my back and shoulders and head which has got no hat on it, just the black bag, but maybe this is giving me protection. Already my toes are cramping from being folded like they are in those thin slippers, and my knees are telling me to get up off that hard gravel.

“This is rest period,” one of the soldiers says to me, “so you just rest there awhile. If you move, that means you're not resting, and that's against the rules, so don't do that.”

“Okay,” I said.

He give me a kick. “You don't speak unless we ask a question, asshole.”

“Okay.”

He kicked me again and the other one says, “This guy's a fuckwit.”

“Ain't he, though. Hey, fuckwit, where's it say in the Koran about how it's okay to blow up women and babies? Go ahead and answer.”

“I never read it.”

“No? Maybe you can't read.”

“I've read
The Yearling
sixteen times …”

He kicked me again. “I didn't ask you a question!”

“Here's a question,” says the other one. “How come an American turns into a Muslim? How come you did that, you and Dean Lowry?”

“I didn't, and Dean didn't either, not really, he just acted like he was to make his aunt mad at him.”

“That is one bucket-of-shit answer. You think you'd be here now if you weren't a terrorist for Allah? What the fuck for if you're not? And Lowry, how come he's in the news for wanting to kill that senator if he's not a Muslim?”

“I don't know.”

“You don't know? Fuck, man, you'd be about the dumbest terrorist we got here.”

“How many have you got?”

The other one kicked me. “We didn't ask you a question!”

I put a lock on my lip and kept on kneeling there, wishing I'd had a good long drink of water from my basin before they brung me out here because that sun is strong, but they didn't tell me I'd be kneeling under this kind of heat so I didn't. They should have told me but they don't care, I'm just this crazy Muslim bomber that's threatening to blow up women and children.

“Hey, Deefus, that chick on the news, she acts like you don't impress her at all.”

I didn't say anything.

“Deefus, you fuckin' deaf?”

“No, you didn't ask me a question.”

“I just asked if you're fuckin' deaf, dumbo. You didn't hear me ask that?”

“The time before …”

“The fuckin' time before I asked ... whatever I asked. Now I wanna know how come that chick on the TV news says you can't even spell but you told us you can read, huh? How come?”

The second one says, “Did you fuck her in school, Deefus? She looks like she'd take on a pile of shit like you. So did you?”

I didn't like it that they're badmouthing Feenie that way. Feenie told the whole world she doesn't think I'm a terrorist, so it isn't right to be talking about her like this.

The first one shouts in my ear, “Hey, Deefus! You go deaf on me again?”

“No.”

“So how about this chick? Was she a dirty-talker on the phone like your ‘fiancée,' huh? She make you come on the phone, huh? How come your ‘fiancée' talks dirty to other men, Deefus? She don't get enough real dick from you, huh? Huh? Answer me, you fuckin' freak!”

“Go fuck yourself.”

Well, that was not the right answer. They kicked me down from my knees onto my side and kept on kicking, but it seemed to me like they're not putting much effort into it. Maybe I'm getting used to punishment so it doesn't seem so bad, or maybe it's just so hot out here they haven't got the strength. After a dozen or so kicks each they quit.

“Gimme a smoke,” says one.

“Filter tip or plain?” says the other, and they both yukked and yukked, then the first one says, “Just regular, bro.”

I heard them both light up and blow smoke. Me, I'm happy lying on the ground sideways and getting the pressure off my
knees and toes. These bozos have done me a favor but they're too dumb to know it.

“Jeez, I hate this fuckin' place.”

“Yeah, rotate me, baby.”

“We should just kill 'em all and go home.”

“Put me down for that.”

They smoked awhile, then one says, “Okay, Deefus, on your feet.”

I stood up and the other one says, “Rest period's over, now you got to get some exercise. What kind we want you to do is the song and dance kind. You know how to sing and dance, Deefus?”

“No.”

“Well, you better fuckin' learn real fast, my friend. We don't care what kinda song and dance, but you gotta do it, do it now, my man.”

“Do it,” says the other one, “or we'll make you kneel on hot asphalt all fuckin' day while we stand over in the shade and have us a nice cold beer.”

“Start now,” says the first one.

I did not want to kneel on hot asphalt all day, so I started shuffling around and singing, kind of. What I sang was, “I'm a little teapot short and stout, Here is my handle, Here is my spout …” I couldn't do the handle and spout part with my arms because I'm handcuffed, so I just sung those same words over and over and shuffled around. They laughed their heads off and told me I'm a fucking great dancer and singer too and keep it up or else, so I did, singing it over and over till I tripped over my own feet and fell down. That got them laughing again and they lit more smokes, letting me lie there like before, which was better than the singing and dancing.

Then one of them says, “Shit, here comes the dork.”

I heard footsteps coming closer, then Lieutenant Harding's voice says, “That man is supposed to be on his knees, not resting on his side.”

“He just now fell over, sir.”

“Deefus, stand up, you've got a phone call.”

I'm thinking to myself, Sure I have, maybe more dirty talk on tape from Lorraine.

“Get up and take this call!”

I got up and he tells them to uncuff me, which they did, then this little phone with the lid open gets put in my hand. So this is real, I'm thinking. Who the hell is calling me here? I put it up to my head inside the bag.

“Hello?”

“Odell, this is Agent Kraus. How you doing there?”

“Okay. It's hot.”

“No kidding. Well, the heat's off you here. We've located Dean's body.”

“Where I said he was?”

“No, in Hays City.”

“How'd he get there?”

“Your house was being closely watched, Odell. That same afternoon you dug up Dean and relocated him you were under observation through binoculars by Donnie D and his drug-pushing buddy Marcus Andrew Markham – aka, Marky Mark. Ever heard of him?”

“No.”

“They were intrigued by what they saw, so that night when you were out with Donnie and Lorraine getting cash from the ATM in town, Markham dug Dean up and drove him away.
They thought you murdered Dean and were going to turn you in for the reward while denying any involvement with Dean themselves. Donnie broke after we showed him that ATM photo. You'll be brought back here for further questioning about the murder. You still maintain that you killed Dean and buried him?”