Jason Deas - Benny James 02 - Pushed Page 8

  “I have come to tell you the Good News,” the person at the door bumbled.

  “Good news?” Red asked. “Bendy bees OK?”

  “Have you spoken to Benny?” the person asked.

  “Yep,” Red answered.

  “What did he say?”

  “You the good news person. You telling me what he saying.”

  The woman at the door had obviously not been briefed enough about collecting information from Benny’s old house and the person who now lived there. She was sent there with the simple task of finding out if Benny had discovered any new information. So far, she had just collected a giant bag of confusion.

  Getting back on script, the lady said, “I am here to tell you the Good News about our Savior, Jesus Christ.”

  “Red be saved,” Red answered. Red was the one now who was confused. “You ride you little bicycle around telling peoples things they already know?” Red asked. “Everybody be knowing that Jesus is Savior. Red knowing that since he a baby. You a silly wasting time lady. Maybe you should be selling dirt sucky machines.”

  The lady stared at Red, perplexed. Red decided by the look on her face that she had never seen a vacuum cleaner.

  “Come in,” Red said happily. “I show you.” Red grabbed her hand and pulled her into his house. Once inside, he hurried to the closet and pulled out the vacuum machine while at the same time grabbing a handful of dirt from one of his many houseplants. Red tossed the dirt on the floor and plugged in the vacuum. He was so excited to show her something he thought in his mind she had never seen. Red turned on the vacuum cleaner and pushed it over the dirt. When he pulled the unit back and the dirt was gone, he looked at the woman like a magician who has just performed a magnificent trick.

  “You gotta get one for you,” Red stated. He wrapped up the cord and stuck the vacuum cleaner back in the closet. “You musting be thirsty like horse after riding you bike. You like water, tea, or lemons water? Red make the best lemons water. You like?” Still trying to wrap her mind around Red, the lady just nodded her head.

  When Red exited the room, Galaxie, who had been hiding under the coffee table emerged. Galaxie gave the visitor her most evil look and turned her head as soon as the woman looked at her.

  “Come here, kitty,” the lady tried.

  Galaxie gave her a quick look and yawned widely, showing all her teeth. When Red walked back into the room, Galaxie rubbed up against his leg and gave a cheerful, “meow.”

  “What’s your cat’s name?” the lady asked.

  “She name, Galaxie,” Red answered. “She Red bestest friend beside Bendy. Bendy Red bestest friend.”

  “He’s pretty special, huh?”

  “Yep. The most special, special, special.”

  “I bet he is.”

  “What you name is?” Red asked.

  “Beth. I mean… Mary,” the lady said, rubbing her hands across her cheeks.

  “You forget you name?”

  “No…”

  “You mean you name bees Mary Beth?”

  “Yes! My name is Mary Beth.”

  “Why not you just say so,” Red said. “Try you lemons water,” Red instructed.

  Mary Beth slowly put the glass to her lips and took a tiny sip. She held the liquid in her mouth for a second and then swallowed. Her eyes lit up and she took a bigger drink and looked to Red with a huge smile on her face and said, “This is the best lemonade I have ever tasted. How did you make this?”

  “That not lemon aid and Red not know what lemon aid bees. That lemons water and Red mama teach Red how to make with real lemon and what mama call a devil load a sugar. You go be OK though, you not really drink the devil,” Red assured.

  “That’s good,” Mary Beth said, relaxing a bit.

  Changing the subject, Red said, “You really need get you a dirt sucky machine.”

  “I definitely will.” Trying to steer the conversation back to Benny, she asked, “Did Benny help you pick that out?”

  “He give to Red.”

  “He sounds very generous.”

  “If that word mean he nice, you right.”

  “When is the last time you talked to him?” Mary Beth probed with caution.

  “He call on talky machine yesterday.”

  “Where is he?”

  “South.”

  “Is he finding what he went down there to find?”

  Something in Red told him to lie. Since he had lived most of his life without words, he had become very adept at reading mannerisms. He was beginning to get an uncomfortable vibe from Mary Beth.

  “Oh yep,” Red lied. He was not accustomed to lying and it felt very strange to him to have the untruthful words come from his lips. “He say he catch the bad man in a few more days.”

  “Really!” Mary Beth said, a little more excited than she meant to. “Really?” she tried again, calmer the second time around.

  “Oh yep. Yep. Bendy say he see bad man yesterday but he not take him to jails.”

  “He saw him!”

  “Yep.” Red was actually enjoying lying as he had never really done it before.

  “Why didn’t Benny arrest him?”

  “Bendy rest him. I say that. He not touch man and let he rest.”

  “He didn’t arrest him, but is letting him rest?” Mary Beth tried to clarify.

  “That what I say,” Red said.

  “Of course,” Mary Beth answered.

  “Did Benny say anything else?”

  “Yep.” Red waited for her to ask what as he tried to think of something clever to say that would throw her off track.

  “What?” she finally asked.

  “He said the bad man be very hard.”

  “Hard?” Mary Beth questioned. All kinds of strange things flew through her mind.

  “Yep. Hard to catching.”

  “Oh,” Mary Beth said, relieved. “Benny said this man would be hard to catch,” she restated.

  “Yep.”

  “Why?”

  All Red could think of was, “Bang, bang!”

  “He has a gun?”

  “Three or four,” Red lied.

  “Three or four?” Mary Beth said in disbelief.

  “Or five,” Red said, enjoying lying. It was so fun, he thought. He briefly thought of adding more to the story, but he decided by Mary Beth’s facial expressions that she had had enough.

  “I have to go,” she said, all of a sudden and standing up. She was flustered and Red could tell. “Will you call me if you hear anything else from Benny?”

  “Yep.”

  “Can I write my number on this piece of paper?” Mary Beth asked, pointing to a paper on the coffee table.

  “Yep.”

  Mary Beth scribbled her number.

  “Bad man probably not use guns,” Red said to Mary Beth as she made her way to the door.

  “Why do you say that?” she asked as she reached for the door knob.

  “He probably use bomb first,” Red lied.

  Red enjoyed watching Mary Beth run to her bicycle and speed off down the road.

  Chapter 16

  Brother Jim woke up as the blood from his forehead made its way into his mouth. The metallic taste sparked his reflexes and he spit as he quickly sat up. As he did, he almost knocked his forehead against the bathroom counter, which would have split the other side of his brow open. Still sitting, he moved one of his legs and opened the cabinet under the sink. He found a stack of neatly folded towels and wash cloths. He pulled out a wash cloth and put it to his forehead to stop the remaining trickle of blood. Slowly standing, he looked in the medicine cabinet and found some antibiotic ointment. In one of the drawers, he found several different size bandages with which he patched himself up.

  After cleaning himself, Brother Jim cleaned the floor around him. With the floor clean, he stood up and took a good look at his face in the mirror. A sudden rage filled his body. With all his might he wanted to put his fist into the mirror. Not wanting more blood, he stopped. He prayed alo
ud.

  “Father,” he began. “What are you doing to me? Am I only here to do your dirty work?”

  Jim could not look in the mirror any longer and walked out of the bathroom and into the living area. All the blinds and curtains were open. He quickly shut them all. His stomach lurching with hunger, he made his way to the fridge to see what it held. Opening the door, he found all of his favorites—fresh sliced meats from a deli, a fresh-made lasagna ready to be cooked, potato salad, Cole slaw, chicken salad, ground beef, and more. The freezer was full of goodies as well. The pantry was stuffed with fresh breads, chips, nuts, and all kinds of delicious snacks.

  Jim grabbed a can of peanuts, pulled the lid off, and ripped off the seal. He drank the nuts as if they were a beverage—he was famished. Opening the fridge again, he found his favorite drink, orange juice, and drank straight from the bottle. He guzzled half the container before placing it back in the fridge. Like a hungry lumber jack savage, he slapped together an enormous sandwich and ate until his belly felt as if it would burst.

  With his hunger satiated, he cleaned up what little mess he had made. Once the kitchen was clean, he stood in front of a mirror in the living room. Standing still as a statue, he studied his face, examining every inch slowly. He rubbed his fingers in the places where his beard and mustache used to be and his mouth fell open with awe.

  “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” he said aloud. A tear ran down his face and he wiped it away as he stared himself in the eyes. What has the father done to the son? he asked himself.

  Jim sprinted to the hall closet and ripped the door open and found some light jackets and empty metal hangers. He snatched three metal hangers off the rack and started bending and straightening the pliable metal. As he did, he began his chanting. “Damn the snakes, damn the serpent. Damn the snakes, damn the serpent.” He rocked and chanted as he braided the wires together to make a snake. Jim sat the finished snake on the table by the note.

  The note said to stay for two days. He had no idea what he would do for two days alone in a strange beach house. He was certain the television would not work. He knew if his daddy was behind all of this weird stuff, the television would not work as he was not allowed to watch television. He grabbed the remote for the television off the coffee table and studied it as he remained deep in thought. He twirled it around in his hands and decided his daddy would never, ever want him to be trapped in a house for two days with a working television.

  Brother Jim made a decision and a deal with himself as he passed the remote back and forth in between his hands. If the television worked and was connected, he would stay for the two days and try to get his mind right. If the television did not work or only displayed the white snow of an unconnected signal, he would not follow the instructions. He would wait until dark, and slip away in the night.

  If the television did not work—that would mean his daddy was the mastermind of all this and he was not going to be a puppet any longer. He replayed his internal conversation over again two times in his mind and decided to do it. With his finger, he traced a cross over his heart and remembered an old phrase from his childhood: “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

  Jim pulled in his breath and pushed the button on the remote. Nothing happened. He knew it! His daddy was behind this. He jumped up with a thought. Jim checked to see if the television was plugged in—it was. He did not want to believe this. He studied the remote again and had another thought. He slid open the back which held the batteries and found it to be empty. Almost tripping over the coffee table and injuring himself again, he dove toward the television and pushed the power button on the front of the set. He swore he heard a click, but nothing happened. Maybe it was in his head, he thought.

  Just then, the television flashed, and a character who looked like a sponge wearing pants ran across the screen chasing a bubble. Jim’s eyes shot open wide in disbelief. It worked! The television worked. In Jim’s mind this meant that his daddy was not behind this and then it hit him—it also meant that he was. Jim was so confused. His brain felt like it was too full again, and he turned to the television to relieve his mind from the task of thinking through what was going on in his life.

  He spent the rest of the day watching television and eating. He decided to stay away from the news channels for a bit and just enjoy the day. He watched cartoons, sitcoms, and even a movie about two stepbrothers. He couldn’t remember ever having laughed so hard during that one.

  At some point, he fell asleep on the couch. When he awoke, the light had disappeared from the sky. He peeked through the blinds. He looked up and down the beach, searching for signs of movement. When he didn’t find any, he decided to go out on the porch.

  The moonlight was not very bright, but there was just enough so he could see the beauty of the moving ocean. He plopped down in a chair on the porch and put his feet up on the railing. He breathed in and out and decided he had to think about what was happening to him. His thoughts turned to his daddy. He never let him have any fun and he had been that way as long as Jim could remember. He had always told him he had a mission in this life and a reason for living, but he had never come right out and told him what it was.

  Brother Jim had spent his entire life hidden. He had never known his mother—she was not talked about. He had never had many friends. He was born on his daddy’s compound and the last few weeks were the only time he ever remembered travelling outside the compound walls. His daddy had always told him that he was his secret weapon against evil.

  The thoughts were too much and the ocean called. Jim looked up and down the beach again, and didn’t spot a soul. He quickly pulled off his shirt and his pants and stood there in his briefs. A bathing suit hung on the porch railing and Jim pulled it on. It fit perfectly. Jim felt something against his thigh and realized the bathing suit had pockets. He reached into the left pocket and pulled out a tube of suntan lotion, tossing it onto the porch floor. With one more quick glance up and down the beach, he took off running like a child toward the water.

  The sand felt amazing between his toes and under his feet. Brother Jim had never run through sand and after a few brave strides he fell headfirst. He tucked his head and rolled, popping back up to run again. Sand fell from his hair and he felt it brush past his cheeks where his beard used to be. He laughed out loud. With a new understanding of the sand, Jim continued to run toward the oncoming waves.

  Nearing the water, he felt the earth harden underfoot and felt the moisture of the packed sand. Taking a quick glance at his feet, Jim saw foam left behind by the travelling water. When he looked back up, he was entering the mystery of the ocean. He continued to run, full tilt, into the waves. As his legs went deeper and deeper, his stride suffered until he gave himself up and fell into the water with a grand smile on his face.

  Brother Jim immediately tasted the salt in his mouth and felt the sting of it on his forehead, where he had hit the toilet and split the skin. He went to his knees and crept out a little farther into the water until the water line reached his neck. He looked up at the splintered moon and dug his fingers into the sand, enjoying the many different textures of the ocean.

  As he dug, he found a conch shell. The shell was long and incredibly sharp at the end. It was the length of a pen or pencil and Jim slid it into his bathing suit pocket. Jim dunked his head under and listened. He heard a different world and somehow felt comforted by all that he did not know and understand.

  With his head back out of the water, Jim stood and felt the waves coming in and breaking against his chest. He had never felt such happiness in his entire life—he was intoxicated with the ocean and fell back, closing his eyes, as he plunged under and felt himself covered by the waves and the gently crashing water.

  Jim soon learned about the tide and how the ocean’s strength could carry a person from one place to another. He looked back to the beach house and found it was not there. He had been pulled down the beach a good ways. Jim waded back against the water. As he neared the beach in front of the c
ottage, he heard voices. He immediately stopped and crouched down to where his head was barely visible above the water. As the voices neared, he discovered it was a couple. They stopped directly in front of him on the beach, and he noticed they were holding hands. The girl was laughing, and the boy’s hands were on her back and travelling toward her backside. His heart rate began to increase. The female giggled again as the male whispered something into her ear. As soon as her laugh was released, the man’s mouth covered hers and she melted into him.

  Jim’s breathing became audible as he huffed and puffed. His fists clenched as one of the man’s hands slid under the woman’s shirt and disappeared. The man groped her and Jim stood up out of the water. He pulled the conch shell out of his pocket and gripped it like one would a knife.

  Ever so quietly, Jim crept toward them as his fury grew. He froze and dropped down as the man pulled his hand out from the woman’s shirt and looked out over the ocean. He was not looking at Jim, but right over him. The lover said something into the woman’s ear and she giggled again with her pleasure.

  Jim couldn’t believe what he saw next. The man took his hand and unzipped the woman’s pants. The man pulled the flaps of her jeans apart and slid his hand down and in between her legs. Jim waited for her to scream in protest, but she just moaned aloud with pleasure. The two lovers dropped to the sandy beach floor and Jim exploded.

  Gripping the conch shell like a dagger and running toward them, he screamed, “Let the wicked burn in hell.” Unfamiliar with the ways of the ocean, he tripped and fell. The conch shell, which had been his weapon, fell from his hand and when he emerged from the water, the couple had vanished.

  Jim tried to regain the mental peace the ocean had given him, but decided it was ruined. All of a sudden, he was tired. He remembered the bed he had seen in the beach house and the mound of covers and mountain of pillows. He imagined himself under all of it as he walked toward the beach house.

  He trudged across the sand as his energy had seemed to dissipate with the lovers. He wondered what would have happened if they had not heard him and if he had not fallen and dropped the sharp conch shell. Was I going to kill them or just scare them off, he mused.