The Awakening (9 page)

             
Ben chuckled to himself and shook his head.  “Better than a movie.”

             
“I do miss people watching,” came a quiet voice from behind Ben's right shoulder.

             
Startled, Ben sat up and whipped around to see his sister's love-interest, Mark, standing there.  He was wrapped up in a thick, black wool coat, his short curls blowing in the breeze, a pair of thick glasses covering his eyes.

             
“It passes the time,” Ben said, once his heart stopped thumping in his chest.  “How did you know I was here?”

             
“Friendly stranger pointed you out after your sister said I might find you here,” Mark replied with a shrug.  “Mind if I have a seat?”

             
“Be my guest,” Ben said and moved over a space to allow Mark room to sit.  Ben watched in fascination as Mark navigated around the bench with his cane, used his hand to examine the empty space, and then sat, turning to face Ben.

             
“I'm sorry to drop in on you like this, but you've been avoiding my phone calls,” Mark said.  His words were accusatory, but his tone was neutral, if not quite friendly.

             
“Right,” Ben said, clearing his throat.  “Look, I mean you're really nice, and I appreciate your religious investigative work, but I really don't want to be involved with things like this.”

             
“Does the idea of possibly being healed by a religious-based miracle make you uneasy?”

             
Ben shook his head, remembered Mark couldn't see him, and said, “No.  It isn't anything like that.  Whatever happened to me, happened to me.  Whether it was religious or a transfer of energy, or some ridiculous coincidence, it happened.  My biggest concern, truthfully, is Abby.  She's already terrified of losing me, I'm her only real living family left, and the thing is, there's a good chance my tumor will come back, and this time around I might not have some Jesus-like homeless man to lay hands on me or whatever.  Abby will upend her entire life, dragging me to bleeding icon after crying statue to get me healed, and when it doesn't work, and I die, she'll crack.”

             
Mark listened to this, his face stoic but understanding.  “If it helps, Ben, I don’t believe in religious miracles.”

             
“You don't?” Ben asked.  “Abby seems to think you're a religious miracle expert.”

             
“I am,” Mark affirmed.  “Not by belief, but by study.  I'm also not a particularly religious man, which I realize might be confusing considering my position in the school, as well as my past.”

             
“Abby said you came from Russia where you were a priest.”

             
“Priest can be a rather loose term in the Church,” Mark said.  “I didn’t hold Mass, but rather spent my days working and studying.  None of this is particularly important, though.  What matters is that you have someone who understands what you went through.”

             
“Why should your understanding matter to me at all?” Ben demanded, crossing his arms against the cold.

             
Mark leaned forward, taking off his glasses, his milky-white eyes fixed on Ben's face.  “Because it's the only way you're going to help me, and the only way you're going to believe me when I tell you that I know exactly why your tumor disappeared.”

             
Ben was stunned into silence, not because of the words, but because of the finality and surety behind them.  Ben, by nature, was a skeptical person, but in this moment he believed Mark.  Somehow, without even knowing this man, he knew Mark was telling the truth.

             
It took him some time to answer, but eventually he muttered out, “Okay.”

             
Mark smiled and his posture relaxed slightly.  “I don't believe it's fair to you that you experience something like this.  Having a potentially fatal tumor disappear isn't something you can just let go and stop thinking about.  I want to explain it to you, but the first thing we need to do is find where this man was taken, and then we need to find a way to see him.”

             
Ben licked his lips, a nervous habit, and shoved his hands into his coat pocket.  “I guess I could make some calls.  I can check his case file tonight, see who his judge was, and if he had a public defender or if he just pleaded guilty, and if that's the case, I'll try and find out where he was sentenced to.  It's not likely they just let him go, not with a violent assault like that.”

             
Mark reached into his pocket, pulled out a small card and handed it over to Ben.  “This is my personal number, a line that no one but your sister has, and I want you to please phone me the moment you know where he is.  This will be worthwhile to you, I swear it.”

             
“And what about Abby?  Are you going to tell her any of this?” Ben asked.

             
“I will leave that decision up to you.”

             
“Abby is a bright girl,” Ben said.  “I think she deserves the truth.”

             
“Are you sure you're not just trying to sway her from her fierce belief in God?” Mark questioned.

             
Ben's face flared red, a little angry, but mostly from guilt because Mark had it right.  “What's your opinion, then,
Father
?”  He used the word Father angrily, mockingly, but Mark didn't seem to notice or mind.

             
“Truthfully, I believe Abby has amazing potential and it would not hurt her to know the truth, in the end.  She may be hurt at first, to learn most of what she knows is a well-fabricated lie, but she'd overcome it quickly.”

             
“Are you interested in her?” Ben asked suddenly, blurting the question.  “It's none of my business, but... well... I'd just like to know.”

             
“I'm not in the position at the moment to court anyone,” Mark said after a short pause.  “Your sister is a wonderful person, and beautiful, I’m sure.  I’m aware of her affections towards me, but there is too much going on in my life for me to take interest in anyone.” 

             
Ben decided to leave it at that, satisfied with Mark’s answer.  He slipped the card into his pocket and then sat forward, leaning a little towards Mark.  “Give me a week, okay.  One week and I should have all the information you need to find this man.”

             
“Take all the time you need.”

             
Ben stood up, brushed his hands down his coat, and waited politely for Mark to rise.  “Can I give you a ride home?”

             
Mark smiled and shook his head.  “It's not a long walk, and it's nice out.  Thank you, though, Ben.  Hopefully I'll hear from you soon.”  Mark extended his hand and Ben took it. 

             
He stood there as Mark started off in the direction he'd come in, his cane stretched in front of him, his face turned up slightly.  There was an almost bounce to his step, Ben noticed, and he wondered if maybe he shouldn't look up this crazy homeless man.  Maybe he should wash his hands of this entire thing, be done with it.

“That's what Pilate did, didn't he,” Ben said
aloud to himself, and then laughed at the fact that he even remembered that from his Biblical studies.  Shaking his head, he headed out of the park, to his car, and decided that he would go to the office.  What harm could come from taking a small look into the case, and where the man was sent?

~*~

              Ben eased down into his desk chair, gingerly holding his cup of scalding hot coffee between his hands.  Though he didn’t suffer from a tumor anymore, the surgery still affected him enough to make coming back to work a little more difficult.  He was easily tired, and using deductive reasoning on his cases didn't come as easily as it had been before.

             
The doctors all assured him it was nothing to worry about, he was healing, and even an exploratory surgery in the brain would cause some temporary secondary symptoms.  Still, Ben was frustrated, and ready to get back to work and put the nonsense behind him.

             
He was lucky enough that his captain had kept the entire incident to himself.  Ben didn't think he could handle well-wishing cards and good-humored jokes made about his mental state.

             
Firing up his computer, Ben went straight into the database in search of the case involving the vagrant.  It was easy enough to find, especially since Ben had been first on scene to respond.  His notes were included with the report the officers on scene took, and the case had been assigned to a judge with whom Ben had a working relationship.

             
Neither the sentencing, nor the court minutes were available in the database. This meant that either the homeless man was still unable to be identified, or he hadn't been sent for sentencing yet.

             
Picking up the phone, Ben dialed the records department manager, a man Ben knew from college.  After three rings, a tired voice came on.  “Good morning, Brian Williams speaking.”

             
“Hey Brian, it's Ben Stanford,” Ben said, trying to sound more cheerful than he felt.  “How are you?”

             
“Hung over,” Brian groaned.  “My brother is getting married next weekend and his bachelor party got out of control last night.”

             
Ben chuckled.  “Sounds rough, man.  Sorry.”

             
“Don’t be sorry, I did this to myself,” Brian said.  Ben could hear him pause to gulp what had to be coffee, and then Brian cleared his throat.  “So what's up?  I'm assuming this isn't a personal call.”

             
“I need some information on a man in a case I responded to a couple of weeks ago,” Ben said.  He gave the date and case number to his friend.  “From what I can tell, there still hasn't been identity established, and I have a possible lead on someone who might know him.”

             
All Ben could hear from Brian's end was the clicking sound of a keyboard for several moments.  “Ah,” Brian said eventually, “you're right, no identity established.  The case went before Judge Baker, but John Doe was incoherent and hospitalized at the time.  The DA had the case transferred down to San Diego County.  Looks like he was admitted to Edgington Behavioral Health Hospital for sixty days pending review of his case and upon establishing an identity.”

             
“San Diego County?” Ben repeated.  “Wonder why?”

             
“Doesn't say, just that Baker allowed the transfer and he's at Edgington.  This was that bleeding hands guy, right?  The one in the paper?”

             
Ben rolled his eyes and suppressed a sigh.  “Yeah that's the one.”

             
“The paper said when the paramedics picked him up the wounds were healed,” Brian breathed.  “Did you see that happen?  I mean, man, that's crazy shit right there.”

             
“I didn't see anything like that,” Ben lied.  “It was more likely blood from the man he attacked.  Either way, he didn't say much to me, but if this guy I ran into actually knows this John Doe, we might be able to get some answers.”

              “Well good luck with that,” Brian said.

             
Ben laughed, “Thanks.  Feel better man,” and with that, he hung up.  Feeling a little confused, Ben sat back and stared at his computer screen.  His email icon was blinking, so he went over and saw he had over two-hundred new emails.

             
He rubbed his face hard with his hands and decided that he wasn't quite ready to take all of that on just yet.  Ben reached into his pocket and pulled out the little card with the name Mark Roman printed at the top, and what he assumed was his personal number on the bottom.

             
Ben glanced at the clock on his computer and saw it was just past nine.  Nine AM on a Monday meant more than likely Mark was teaching his first class, so even if Ben did call, he wouldn't get through to him.  Then, Ben realized, this might be the best course of action anyway, and thought maybe leaving a voicemail would be a little easier.

             
He picked up the phone and dialed, holding his breath, until Mark's simple voicemail message picked up.  “I will return your call promptly, thank you.”

             
Ben waited impatiently for the beep.  “Mark hi, it's Ben.  I'm at my office and I have some information on this person you're looking for.  I'm happy to help, however the case is still open, so I need a guarantee that you can positively identify this guy before we go further.  Call me when you get this and we can meet.”  As an afterthought, Ben left his personal cell number just in case Mark didn't have it, and then he hung up.

             
Without even thinking about it, Ben reached down, turned the volume on his phone all the way up, and then opened his email to begin what looked to be an extremely long, and tedious day.