The unveiling, p.12
The Unveiling, page 12
part #3 of Chaos Series
Not surprisingly, the story was leaked to the press by someone working at the hospital.
This didn’t come as a surprise to President Danforth. Then again, in this strange new climate, perhaps the story wouldn’t even make the front-page news. How could it when the Miracle Maker, as many in the press called Salvador Romanero, kept dominating each news cycle?
Once they ran out of inspiring things to print about him, their focus then shifted to the Pope, and how he’d just offered hope to a billion Catholics.
Perhaps because there would be no black Friday advertisements splashed all over the newspapers this year, there might be a glum-looking still-shot photograph of President Danforth—on page two or three—at Annapolis Naval Hospital alongside his wife.
The caption might read: FIRST LADY OVERDOSES! PRESIDENT DANFORTH INCAPABLE OF LEADING THE NATION BACK TO HER FEET! Or: HOW CAN THIS MAN OFFER HOPE TO ANYONE WHEN HE CAN’T EVEN TAKE CARE OF HIS OWN FAMILY?
Beneath these captions might be: While the two miracle workers from Europe are doing a remarkable job restoring hope to billions in the wake of this unprecedented tragedy, aside from restoring travel, what else has President Danforth done to help bring the world back to its feet?
The President sighed. Couldn’t the Pope have at least waited until after Thanksgiving to energize so many Catholics with his message of assurance? This is my holiday, not yours!
It was too much to take in at once.
Deep down inside, Jefferson Danforth wished there were a few more pills in his wife’s prescription containers for him to swallow. Then perhaps his problems would go away. At least for a while.
Then again, after the way this week had gone, if his goal was to commit suicide, he would have surely failed even at that.
Happy Thanksgiving!
23
SARAH MULROONEY WOKE TO a sound in the hallway. She sat up in bed and looked at the clock on the table on her husband’s side of the bed.
It was 2:22 a.m. The sound grew more and more faint as it drifted downstairs. Too noisy to be an intruder. Either it’s Brian or Chelsea.
After ten minutes had passed, and whoever went downstairs didn’t come back up, Sarah quietly climbed out of bed, careful not to wake her husband, put on her robe and slippers and tiptoed downstairs. She found Brian sitting on a chair in the closed-in porch, apparently deep in thought.
“Mind if I join you, son?”
Brian nearly jumped out of his skin. He was reflecting on what he’d just read in the eighth chapter of the Book of Romans about predestination and how those whom God predestined, He also called, justified, and glorified, when his mother’s shadow covered the page, extinguishing his light like a cloud blotting out the moonlight.
“Sure, Mom.” Brian closed his Bible and tucked it into his robe.
“Is everything okay?”
“Couldn’t sleep, that’s all.”
Sarah kissed her son on the forehead. “I know the feeling. Cup of tea?”
“Sounds good.”
“How about some strudel to go with it?”
“No thanks. Just had some pumpkin pie.”
Sarah went to the kitchen and filled the teakettle with water and placed it atop the gas stove.
Brian was desperate to talk to someone who was knowledgeable about the Book he was reading. But if all true Christians vanished, was there anyone left on the planet to talk to? Would there be another shot at redemption for those still on Earth?
Am I to suffer hell without first getting a true account of Heaven? What a tragedy it would be to finally learn the Truth, only to be denied a second chance at salvation.
Sarah returned from the kitchen nibbling on a tea biscuit. Seeing the disheveled look on her son’s face, she said, “What’s on your mind, sweetie?”
“Doing some serious thinking. Guess you could say I’m reevaluating everything. Soul searching’s a better way to put it.”
“I know what you mean. I’m in the same boat. I think we’re all in that boat. Problem is, I don’t like many of the thoughts I’m thinking.”
“I hear you, Ma...” Brian noticed his mother’s sudden change of expression, “Are you okay?”
Sarah burst out in tears. “Actually, I’ve never been so scared in all my life. All these years I thought I was happy. I mean, I was happy, but this tragedy’s forced me to realize how weak I really am. If I had to go through last week alone, I would have never made it.”
“Everything’ll be fine, Mom,” Brian lied, brushing back the hair from his mother’s eyes.
“I hope so...” There was no conviction in her voice.
The screaming of the teakettle broke the moment. Sarah went into the kitchen and poured two cups of Chamomile tea.
When she returned, Brian said, “Mom, can I ask you a question?”
“Sure. Anything.”
“If this was a ‘Christian thing,’ like they’re now saying, why did only some Christians vanish?”
“I don’t know, sweetie.”
“I can’t help but wonder if they know something the rest of us don’t.”
“You heard what your father said, right?”
“Yeah, I heard him,” Brian said, flatly. “I also heard what the Pope said. But I want to know the whole Truth, not just someone’s version of it.”
Sarah blew softly on the hot tea cup in her hand, “His logic seemed all right to me.”
“I’m not so sure. Besides, I didn’t ask for Dad’s opinion or the Pope’s, I asked what you thought.”
Sarah was caught completely off guard. “To be honest, I’m not sure what I believe. I know there’s a God and all, but where He fits into what happened last weekend is beyond me.”
“What if I told you Justin was a born-again Christian?”
“I don’t know how to respond to that.”
“I believe he came to Michigan last week mostly because he wanted to talk to me about his faith in God. The football game had little to do with it.”
Sarah looked confused. “Why do you say that?”
“Well, for starters, he left a Bible on the night stand in my spare bedroom for me. He even wrapped it as a Gift. I didn’t see it ’til after he was gone. In all honesty, I was just reading it.”
Sarah raised an eyebrow when Brian pulled it out from his robe.
“He also wrote a heartfelt letter explaining how he became a born-again Christian during his college days. Been reading the Bible every chance I get, including on the train yesterday. I have to say it’s fascinating. But it flies in the face of many things Dad talked about today.” Brian paused a moment, “Why weren’t we ever encouraged to read the Bible growing up?”
“That’s a good question, son. One I’m not qualified to answer.” Sarah wondered what would come out of Brian’s mouth next. Searching his face, she couldn’t think of anything comforting to say to him.
“I’ve read so many books except the one I should’ve been reading all along. Now I can’t put it down. The little I’ve read so far is life-changing. It’s forced me to take a prolonged look within and examine everything in my life. Justin also wrapped a Bible for his parents and one for Craig. At least I think they’re Bibles. They’re in my suitcase.”
“When you say it differs with what your father said earlier, what exactly do you mean?”
“That’s just it. I really can’t put it into words. Don’t get me wrong, Ma, parts of what I’m reading are quite familiar to me from hearing it read so much at Sunday mass. But for whatever reason, it feels different to me now and more personal...”
“Not sure I understand you, son.”
Brian took a sip of tea. “What has me most confused is how Justin seemed so sure of himself when it came to God and Heaven. You’d think he was a Bible scholar or a priest or something.
“I went to Catholic school my whole life, followed by Notre Dame, yet I know nothing compared to his overall knowledge of the Bible.”
Brian sighed. “His knowledge, wisdom rather, has forced me to challenge my past teachings. His letter was full of hope, full of truth, full of love. His words impacted me greatly. And regardless of what the Pope thinks, I believe Justin’s in Heaven right now.”
Sarah had no response to her son’s outlandish comments, only more confusion on her own end. Facing the direst of dire straits, the strength she felt from her husband’s positive attitude earlier was gone, much like the steaming liquid in her cup. Who knew what truth was anymore?
“Why don’t we both sleep on it? If you still feel this way tomorrow, we can talk some more, okay?”
They clearly weren’t on the same page. “Sure, Mom. Sounds good. Thanks for listening.”
“That’s what mothers are for.”
Walking up the stairs, Brian stopped, “Mom?”
“Yes?”
“Can we keep this between us for now?”
“Sure, sweetie.” Sarah knew what he meant—don’t tell Dick for the time being.
“Thanks, Mom. Good night.”
“Good night, son.”
“Oh, and Mom?”
“Yes?”
“Can you make sure I’m up at nine? I’m going to Mitzi’s in the morning to see Craig. I wanna surprise him ” Knowing he’d be awake most of the night reading the Word of God, he didn’t want to oversleep.
“Sure, sweetie. He’ll be happy to see you.”
“Thanks, Mom. I love you.”
“I love you too, Brian.”
24
IT WAS FRIDAY MORNING, the day after Thanksgiving, and Tamika Moseley once again pleaded with her supervisor that she needed to go back to work as soon as possible.
Being alone inside her empty apartment made her think too much—about her kids and mother, her ex-husband Isaac’s visit two days ago, not to mention Charles Calloway and his “Jesus” theory.
Three more days of this might drive her completely insane!
As had become the custom, her boss put her on hold to check the schedule, once again leaving Tamika alone with her thoughts.
After trying to talk herself out of it many times, mostly due to the fact that she was battling a nasty cold, Tamika was glad she ended up going to the Waldorf-Astoria for Thanksgiving dinner.
Prior to last weekend’s mayhem, she never stepped foot inside the world-class hotel. She couldn’t afford a cup of coffee there, let alone a dinner. For all she knew, one night’s lodging at that place equaled one-month’s rent at her apartment. Perhaps more!
Now she was a frequent visitor. Go figure!
With a few days to absorb the massive blow, the many boxes of Christmas decorations Tamika saw littering the lobby floor a few days ago were carefully hung in place. The Waldorf-Astoria looked magnificent; almost as if last Saturday never happened.
Tamika wore the nicest outfit she owned—a simple brown dress with thick vertical, black stripes, black accessory belt, three-quarter inch high heel shoes and a brown hat. Perhaps she didn’t meet the “Waldorf-Astoria” standard, but at least she didn’t look like a pauper like her first two times there.
All throughout the meal Tamika kept telling herself that she shouldn’t be dining in elegance, that she needed to be home still mourning her irreplaceable losses or sulking or something.
Who suddenly loses their family then dines with some stranger at the Waldorf-Astoria? What kind of mother did such a thing? No one in their right mind!
Tamika brushed aside the thought, so guilt wouldn’t twist through her again.
“When can you start?” her boss said, snapping her back to the present.
“Really? I can work today?”
“When can you start?” he said again, a little more gruffly this time.
“Now, but under one condition.”
“If you’re going to beg for a new vehicle again...?”
Tamika cut him off, “That’s not it. I know I have to keep my cab for now. But I only want to deal with call-ins today...”
“This ain’t Uber, Tamika!”
It would be if only I owned a car! “I know. But last thing I need now is to pick up some lunatic running around Manhattan with a gun or knife.” Then again, perhaps that’s exactly what I need, to put me out of my misery once and for all. Tamika kept these unnerving thoughts to herself.
The real reason for her request was that she didn’t want to be a wandering generality, lost in a sea of apathetic humanity. What Tamika Moseley needed this day was guidance, direction, instead of aimlessly driving up and down the cluttered streets of Manhattan looking for a customer, or better yet, a victim.
At least that’s how most riders felt after being charged such outrageous fares for transportation. Some drivers were charging five, ten, even twenty times the amount advertised on the outside of their cabs. It was downright criminal.
“Any other requests, your Highness?”
“No,” Tamika said.
“Done.”
“Thank you.”
Tamika jotted down the name of her first customer and went to pick him up. She arrived at the corner of 58th and 2nd and saw a man hailing her down.
She rolled down her passenger-side window. “You call a cab?”
“Yes, I did,” came the reply.
“Name?”
“Brian Mulrooney.”
“Yep. Hop on in,” Tamika said, matter of factly.
Mulrooney looked rather disapprovingly at the damaged vehicle and wondered if it was even safe for travel. Oh, why not? He climbed inside. Compared to last weekend, this was nothing.
“Where to?” Tamika asked Brian.
“Mitzi’s Deli. On the corners of…”
Tamika interrupted, “Forty-second and fifth, right?”
“Yeah. Popular run for you?”
“Not really. Actually, I was just there for the first-time las’ week.”
“I’m friends with the owner,” Brian said.
“Who, Craig?”
“How do you know Craig Rubin?”
“He left his cell phone in my cab las’ weekend.”
“Not surprised. Would’ve left his head there, too, if it weren’t connected to his neck.” Brian half-chuckled. “Bet he paid you to bring his phone back, right?”
“Guilty.” Tamika flashed an exhausted smile; her first in nearly a week. “He even offered to buy me dinner. I took a rain check,” she explained. “Actually, I’ll never forget taking your friend to the airport…”
“Airport? What airport?”
“JFK, why?”
“No, don’t tell me. Are you saying you drove Craig to the airport on the day of the disappearances?”
“Um-hmm.”
Brian was totally stunned. “I can’t believe this! What are the chances of me being in your cab right now? They have to be better than a million to one!”
“It is kinda strange.”
“I’ll say.”
“Anyway, like I was saying,” Moseley continued, “after I dropped your friend off at the airport, BAM, it happened. There were two guys in my cab at the time. One vanished into thin air right where you sitting. Couldn’t believe my eyes!”
“You saw it happen?” Brian leaned all the way up in his seat. His face was almost touching her right shoulder.
At first, Tamika felt uncomfortable, especially not having the Plexiglas barrier to protect her. But this man didn’t seem the type to try anything funny. She relaxed. “Not exactly, but the other man in the back seat did. They was in the middle of a deep conversation when all of a sudden, he was gone.”
“Unbelievable! How did you know it was Craig’s cell phone?”
“I didn’t at first. First time it rang I nearly jumped out of my skin, you know,” Tamika said, upon reflection. “I didn’t answer it. Then it rang a few more times. After a while I guess my curiosity got the best of me, so I finally answered it. He actually thought I stole it.
“When he realized he left it in my cab, he offered to pay me fifty bucks to bring it back to him. Would’ve done it for free, but it wouldn’t be a top priority. Guess the money sprung me back to action.” Tamika sighed. “Sad, isn’t it? Even at times like this, I still jumped at the Almighty Dollar.”
Brian ignored her carrying on about the money. “Wow! What are the odds?” Brian asked again, more to himself this time.
“I’d say they pretty good, mister. After all, you in my cab, right?”
Brian laughed. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” This is too strange. Coincidence or Godincidence?
A few moments later, Tamika pulled up to the front of Mitzi’s Deli.
“Can you move up a little further? Craig doesn’t know I’m coming. I wanna surprise him.”
“Sure.”
Mulrooney handed Tamika a twenty-dollar bill and had a sudden thought: “Why don’t you join us for breakfast? This may be the only chance you’ll get to take Craig up on his offer. If I were you, I’d jump all over it while it’s still fresh in his mind.”
“I just started my shift,” Tamika said, handing him change. “In fact, you my first customer.”
“I see.”
“Can I ask you a question, mister?”
“Shoot,” he said.
“Did you lose any loved ones last week?”
“As a matter of fact, I did. “Why do you ask?”
“It’s just that you seem so happy now.”
Brian paused to let her comment sink in a bit. “I may appear happy, but I’m just as scared and confused as the next person. Tell me, what’s your name?”
“Tamika.”
“Tamika, I happen to agree with President Danforth that we need to do our best to move on.”
This didn’t come as a surprise to President Danforth. Then again, in this strange new climate, perhaps the story wouldn’t even make the front-page news. How could it when the Miracle Maker, as many in the press called Salvador Romanero, kept dominating each news cycle?
Once they ran out of inspiring things to print about him, their focus then shifted to the Pope, and how he’d just offered hope to a billion Catholics.
Perhaps because there would be no black Friday advertisements splashed all over the newspapers this year, there might be a glum-looking still-shot photograph of President Danforth—on page two or three—at Annapolis Naval Hospital alongside his wife.
The caption might read: FIRST LADY OVERDOSES! PRESIDENT DANFORTH INCAPABLE OF LEADING THE NATION BACK TO HER FEET! Or: HOW CAN THIS MAN OFFER HOPE TO ANYONE WHEN HE CAN’T EVEN TAKE CARE OF HIS OWN FAMILY?
Beneath these captions might be: While the two miracle workers from Europe are doing a remarkable job restoring hope to billions in the wake of this unprecedented tragedy, aside from restoring travel, what else has President Danforth done to help bring the world back to its feet?
The President sighed. Couldn’t the Pope have at least waited until after Thanksgiving to energize so many Catholics with his message of assurance? This is my holiday, not yours!
It was too much to take in at once.
Deep down inside, Jefferson Danforth wished there were a few more pills in his wife’s prescription containers for him to swallow. Then perhaps his problems would go away. At least for a while.
Then again, after the way this week had gone, if his goal was to commit suicide, he would have surely failed even at that.
Happy Thanksgiving!
23
SARAH MULROONEY WOKE TO a sound in the hallway. She sat up in bed and looked at the clock on the table on her husband’s side of the bed.
It was 2:22 a.m. The sound grew more and more faint as it drifted downstairs. Too noisy to be an intruder. Either it’s Brian or Chelsea.
After ten minutes had passed, and whoever went downstairs didn’t come back up, Sarah quietly climbed out of bed, careful not to wake her husband, put on her robe and slippers and tiptoed downstairs. She found Brian sitting on a chair in the closed-in porch, apparently deep in thought.
“Mind if I join you, son?”
Brian nearly jumped out of his skin. He was reflecting on what he’d just read in the eighth chapter of the Book of Romans about predestination and how those whom God predestined, He also called, justified, and glorified, when his mother’s shadow covered the page, extinguishing his light like a cloud blotting out the moonlight.
“Sure, Mom.” Brian closed his Bible and tucked it into his robe.
“Is everything okay?”
“Couldn’t sleep, that’s all.”
Sarah kissed her son on the forehead. “I know the feeling. Cup of tea?”
“Sounds good.”
“How about some strudel to go with it?”
“No thanks. Just had some pumpkin pie.”
Sarah went to the kitchen and filled the teakettle with water and placed it atop the gas stove.
Brian was desperate to talk to someone who was knowledgeable about the Book he was reading. But if all true Christians vanished, was there anyone left on the planet to talk to? Would there be another shot at redemption for those still on Earth?
Am I to suffer hell without first getting a true account of Heaven? What a tragedy it would be to finally learn the Truth, only to be denied a second chance at salvation.
Sarah returned from the kitchen nibbling on a tea biscuit. Seeing the disheveled look on her son’s face, she said, “What’s on your mind, sweetie?”
“Doing some serious thinking. Guess you could say I’m reevaluating everything. Soul searching’s a better way to put it.”
“I know what you mean. I’m in the same boat. I think we’re all in that boat. Problem is, I don’t like many of the thoughts I’m thinking.”
“I hear you, Ma...” Brian noticed his mother’s sudden change of expression, “Are you okay?”
Sarah burst out in tears. “Actually, I’ve never been so scared in all my life. All these years I thought I was happy. I mean, I was happy, but this tragedy’s forced me to realize how weak I really am. If I had to go through last week alone, I would have never made it.”
“Everything’ll be fine, Mom,” Brian lied, brushing back the hair from his mother’s eyes.
“I hope so...” There was no conviction in her voice.
The screaming of the teakettle broke the moment. Sarah went into the kitchen and poured two cups of Chamomile tea.
When she returned, Brian said, “Mom, can I ask you a question?”
“Sure. Anything.”
“If this was a ‘Christian thing,’ like they’re now saying, why did only some Christians vanish?”
“I don’t know, sweetie.”
“I can’t help but wonder if they know something the rest of us don’t.”
“You heard what your father said, right?”
“Yeah, I heard him,” Brian said, flatly. “I also heard what the Pope said. But I want to know the whole Truth, not just someone’s version of it.”
Sarah blew softly on the hot tea cup in her hand, “His logic seemed all right to me.”
“I’m not so sure. Besides, I didn’t ask for Dad’s opinion or the Pope’s, I asked what you thought.”
Sarah was caught completely off guard. “To be honest, I’m not sure what I believe. I know there’s a God and all, but where He fits into what happened last weekend is beyond me.”
“What if I told you Justin was a born-again Christian?”
“I don’t know how to respond to that.”
“I believe he came to Michigan last week mostly because he wanted to talk to me about his faith in God. The football game had little to do with it.”
Sarah looked confused. “Why do you say that?”
“Well, for starters, he left a Bible on the night stand in my spare bedroom for me. He even wrapped it as a Gift. I didn’t see it ’til after he was gone. In all honesty, I was just reading it.”
Sarah raised an eyebrow when Brian pulled it out from his robe.
“He also wrote a heartfelt letter explaining how he became a born-again Christian during his college days. Been reading the Bible every chance I get, including on the train yesterday. I have to say it’s fascinating. But it flies in the face of many things Dad talked about today.” Brian paused a moment, “Why weren’t we ever encouraged to read the Bible growing up?”
“That’s a good question, son. One I’m not qualified to answer.” Sarah wondered what would come out of Brian’s mouth next. Searching his face, she couldn’t think of anything comforting to say to him.
“I’ve read so many books except the one I should’ve been reading all along. Now I can’t put it down. The little I’ve read so far is life-changing. It’s forced me to take a prolonged look within and examine everything in my life. Justin also wrapped a Bible for his parents and one for Craig. At least I think they’re Bibles. They’re in my suitcase.”
“When you say it differs with what your father said earlier, what exactly do you mean?”
“That’s just it. I really can’t put it into words. Don’t get me wrong, Ma, parts of what I’m reading are quite familiar to me from hearing it read so much at Sunday mass. But for whatever reason, it feels different to me now and more personal...”
“Not sure I understand you, son.”
Brian took a sip of tea. “What has me most confused is how Justin seemed so sure of himself when it came to God and Heaven. You’d think he was a Bible scholar or a priest or something.
“I went to Catholic school my whole life, followed by Notre Dame, yet I know nothing compared to his overall knowledge of the Bible.”
Brian sighed. “His knowledge, wisdom rather, has forced me to challenge my past teachings. His letter was full of hope, full of truth, full of love. His words impacted me greatly. And regardless of what the Pope thinks, I believe Justin’s in Heaven right now.”
Sarah had no response to her son’s outlandish comments, only more confusion on her own end. Facing the direst of dire straits, the strength she felt from her husband’s positive attitude earlier was gone, much like the steaming liquid in her cup. Who knew what truth was anymore?
“Why don’t we both sleep on it? If you still feel this way tomorrow, we can talk some more, okay?”
They clearly weren’t on the same page. “Sure, Mom. Sounds good. Thanks for listening.”
“That’s what mothers are for.”
Walking up the stairs, Brian stopped, “Mom?”
“Yes?”
“Can we keep this between us for now?”
“Sure, sweetie.” Sarah knew what he meant—don’t tell Dick for the time being.
“Thanks, Mom. Good night.”
“Good night, son.”
“Oh, and Mom?”
“Yes?”
“Can you make sure I’m up at nine? I’m going to Mitzi’s in the morning to see Craig. I wanna surprise him ” Knowing he’d be awake most of the night reading the Word of God, he didn’t want to oversleep.
“Sure, sweetie. He’ll be happy to see you.”
“Thanks, Mom. I love you.”
“I love you too, Brian.”
24
IT WAS FRIDAY MORNING, the day after Thanksgiving, and Tamika Moseley once again pleaded with her supervisor that she needed to go back to work as soon as possible.
Being alone inside her empty apartment made her think too much—about her kids and mother, her ex-husband Isaac’s visit two days ago, not to mention Charles Calloway and his “Jesus” theory.
Three more days of this might drive her completely insane!
As had become the custom, her boss put her on hold to check the schedule, once again leaving Tamika alone with her thoughts.
After trying to talk herself out of it many times, mostly due to the fact that she was battling a nasty cold, Tamika was glad she ended up going to the Waldorf-Astoria for Thanksgiving dinner.
Prior to last weekend’s mayhem, she never stepped foot inside the world-class hotel. She couldn’t afford a cup of coffee there, let alone a dinner. For all she knew, one night’s lodging at that place equaled one-month’s rent at her apartment. Perhaps more!
Now she was a frequent visitor. Go figure!
With a few days to absorb the massive blow, the many boxes of Christmas decorations Tamika saw littering the lobby floor a few days ago were carefully hung in place. The Waldorf-Astoria looked magnificent; almost as if last Saturday never happened.
Tamika wore the nicest outfit she owned—a simple brown dress with thick vertical, black stripes, black accessory belt, three-quarter inch high heel shoes and a brown hat. Perhaps she didn’t meet the “Waldorf-Astoria” standard, but at least she didn’t look like a pauper like her first two times there.
All throughout the meal Tamika kept telling herself that she shouldn’t be dining in elegance, that she needed to be home still mourning her irreplaceable losses or sulking or something.
Who suddenly loses their family then dines with some stranger at the Waldorf-Astoria? What kind of mother did such a thing? No one in their right mind!
Tamika brushed aside the thought, so guilt wouldn’t twist through her again.
“When can you start?” her boss said, snapping her back to the present.
“Really? I can work today?”
“When can you start?” he said again, a little more gruffly this time.
“Now, but under one condition.”
“If you’re going to beg for a new vehicle again...?”
Tamika cut him off, “That’s not it. I know I have to keep my cab for now. But I only want to deal with call-ins today...”
“This ain’t Uber, Tamika!”
It would be if only I owned a car! “I know. But last thing I need now is to pick up some lunatic running around Manhattan with a gun or knife.” Then again, perhaps that’s exactly what I need, to put me out of my misery once and for all. Tamika kept these unnerving thoughts to herself.
The real reason for her request was that she didn’t want to be a wandering generality, lost in a sea of apathetic humanity. What Tamika Moseley needed this day was guidance, direction, instead of aimlessly driving up and down the cluttered streets of Manhattan looking for a customer, or better yet, a victim.
At least that’s how most riders felt after being charged such outrageous fares for transportation. Some drivers were charging five, ten, even twenty times the amount advertised on the outside of their cabs. It was downright criminal.
“Any other requests, your Highness?”
“No,” Tamika said.
“Done.”
“Thank you.”
Tamika jotted down the name of her first customer and went to pick him up. She arrived at the corner of 58th and 2nd and saw a man hailing her down.
She rolled down her passenger-side window. “You call a cab?”
“Yes, I did,” came the reply.
“Name?”
“Brian Mulrooney.”
“Yep. Hop on in,” Tamika said, matter of factly.
Mulrooney looked rather disapprovingly at the damaged vehicle and wondered if it was even safe for travel. Oh, why not? He climbed inside. Compared to last weekend, this was nothing.
“Where to?” Tamika asked Brian.
“Mitzi’s Deli. On the corners of…”
Tamika interrupted, “Forty-second and fifth, right?”
“Yeah. Popular run for you?”
“Not really. Actually, I was just there for the first-time las’ week.”
“I’m friends with the owner,” Brian said.
“Who, Craig?”
“How do you know Craig Rubin?”
“He left his cell phone in my cab las’ weekend.”
“Not surprised. Would’ve left his head there, too, if it weren’t connected to his neck.” Brian half-chuckled. “Bet he paid you to bring his phone back, right?”
“Guilty.” Tamika flashed an exhausted smile; her first in nearly a week. “He even offered to buy me dinner. I took a rain check,” she explained. “Actually, I’ll never forget taking your friend to the airport…”
“Airport? What airport?”
“JFK, why?”
“No, don’t tell me. Are you saying you drove Craig to the airport on the day of the disappearances?”
“Um-hmm.”
Brian was totally stunned. “I can’t believe this! What are the chances of me being in your cab right now? They have to be better than a million to one!”
“It is kinda strange.”
“I’ll say.”
“Anyway, like I was saying,” Moseley continued, “after I dropped your friend off at the airport, BAM, it happened. There were two guys in my cab at the time. One vanished into thin air right where you sitting. Couldn’t believe my eyes!”
“You saw it happen?” Brian leaned all the way up in his seat. His face was almost touching her right shoulder.
At first, Tamika felt uncomfortable, especially not having the Plexiglas barrier to protect her. But this man didn’t seem the type to try anything funny. She relaxed. “Not exactly, but the other man in the back seat did. They was in the middle of a deep conversation when all of a sudden, he was gone.”
“Unbelievable! How did you know it was Craig’s cell phone?”
“I didn’t at first. First time it rang I nearly jumped out of my skin, you know,” Tamika said, upon reflection. “I didn’t answer it. Then it rang a few more times. After a while I guess my curiosity got the best of me, so I finally answered it. He actually thought I stole it.
“When he realized he left it in my cab, he offered to pay me fifty bucks to bring it back to him. Would’ve done it for free, but it wouldn’t be a top priority. Guess the money sprung me back to action.” Tamika sighed. “Sad, isn’t it? Even at times like this, I still jumped at the Almighty Dollar.”
Brian ignored her carrying on about the money. “Wow! What are the odds?” Brian asked again, more to himself this time.
“I’d say they pretty good, mister. After all, you in my cab, right?”
Brian laughed. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” This is too strange. Coincidence or Godincidence?
A few moments later, Tamika pulled up to the front of Mitzi’s Deli.
“Can you move up a little further? Craig doesn’t know I’m coming. I wanna surprise him.”
“Sure.”
Mulrooney handed Tamika a twenty-dollar bill and had a sudden thought: “Why don’t you join us for breakfast? This may be the only chance you’ll get to take Craig up on his offer. If I were you, I’d jump all over it while it’s still fresh in his mind.”
“I just started my shift,” Tamika said, handing him change. “In fact, you my first customer.”
“I see.”
“Can I ask you a question, mister?”
“Shoot,” he said.
“Did you lose any loved ones last week?”
“As a matter of fact, I did. “Why do you ask?”
“It’s just that you seem so happy now.”
Brian paused to let her comment sink in a bit. “I may appear happy, but I’m just as scared and confused as the next person. Tell me, what’s your name?”
“Tamika.”
“Tamika, I happen to agree with President Danforth that we need to do our best to move on.”
