Apocalypse

Part 1

Jimmy dreamed he was walking down that highway, his thumb out to hitch and knife tucked just out of sight. The air was hot on his skin but freezing cold with every breath drawn ragged through his mouth. Not a fleck of snow in sight but he knew it was winter, every car that passed him had the windows up and left a trail of white exhaust that doused him in more heat.

He kept walking, his shoes scraping loose gravel, legs weak cause he'd been having this dream for days. No one ever fucking stopped but he held his arm out and kept going. He knew what he'd do if they did, a ride would only take him so far but a car could outlast the endless highway.

A rusted red Sundance passed and the person inside only spared him a glance as if the idea of stopping for him hardly crossed their mind. Lucky in their thoughtlessness the whole lot of them.

[]

"Let the Glory of His word reach into your wicked hearts and cleanse the sin from your soul."

The prophet stood at the center of a scattered congregation in the parking lot of the small shopping center. His arms reached up as if to pull the power of angels as he called out to the disinterested passers-by.

For hours he'd been out there. The unrelenting heat of summer scorched the wrinkled skin of his neck and arms red so each grand gesture of faith and devotion was a flag against the white of his hat and garb. His flock, dressed also in simple white shirts and kakis, wandered about him to pass on the books of their faith to anyone who would have one.

Their smiles were gentle, expressions calm. They took care to offer the boon of salvation to anyone they passed as they knew there was no shortage of lost souls and even the richest in spoils could be missing God's grace. Even devoted children of their church helped, sleepy though they were from the sickly sweet sun above.

Aaron thought he might drift off for a bit, the nine-year-old still not hardened to the difficulties of their demonstrations the way his older siblings were.

"How you holding up?" His uncle, Nathaniel, kneeled down to his eyelevel and handed him a tyke-sized bottle of juice. The books he'd cradled in his arms were carefully taken from him as he guzzled it down. His head felt hot and his skin tight and uncomfortable but the drink helped him feel a little bit more awake. A cool hand brushed his head and led him away from the car. He was taken over to his eldest brother.

"Could you keep an eye on him? Mayra has Jeremiah and Erica's little girl. Aaron here needs a rest. I don't want him by the van where it's hot."

Aaron thought it was hot by his brother too but didn't protest when he was lifted to settle against Edgar's side, an ice cold bottle of water against his forehead. He drifted off momentarily, eyes heavy and head carefully pillowed against the uncomfortable warmth of his shoulder. Edgar swayed, body turning in half circle to offer what shade it could.

"Oh keep my soul and deliver me, let me not be ashamed for I put my trust in thee-" the steady hum of his voice against the crown of the 9-year-old's head made it impossible for him to stay awake.

Sleep passed in the blink of an eye, one moment he was listening to the smooth murmur of their mother's favorite Psalm and the next he was woken by the angry and boisterous sound of his father's voice trying to drown out the jeering calls of a crowd.

Their days began in the early hours of the morning, between 4 and 6 depending on if all of them were needed for the sermon held in the community center downtown. His family's work was important, they reached out to people like this, the lost and conflicted. Every once in a while someone would find the strength, the conviction of faith to reach back. Bringing those that they could into the safety of their faith made every angry counter protest worth it.

Edgar glanced away from loud angry calls of the crowd and hefted Aaron's sleepy weight higher on his waist. His younger brother stirred grumpily at the noise, his fingers burrowing in Edgar's shirt as the jeering finally reached him. They stood for a moment both unsure of how to participate in the back and forth or if they even should.

"Who the hell are you to judge?!" One onlooker called out from somewhere deep in the belly of the crowd.

"Judgment is upon us! It is not I who condemns you." His father's voice boomed and cut swiftly through the reactionary cat calls of the surprisingly large crowd. "Did Jesus not reach out to the children of his Father to bring them from their heathen ways? Did Jesus not die on the cross for your sins? And yet despite his sacrifice parents still allow their children to wallow in the muck of this society, to be sodomized by the preachers of false religions—"

"That's disgusting!" One irate mother shouted as she ushered her children away from the rabble. Spurred by the generous response the leader pointed to the small golden crucifix glittering gently around her neck.

"Make as many excuses as you like, my good lady, but the desperate cries of those poor, forsaken children don't lie!" His arms swept over the crowd, over their cries of bigot and liar. "Our time has come, the Rapture is nigh. The salvation of our children is upon us and we must ask ourselves if we will be there with them to join the Lord in Paradise." His arms came down in supplication, begging the angry and fearful crowd to join him.

There were a surprising number of people joining the group, young enough to be from the nearby middle and high school. As the argument heated behind him he noticed that a steady stream of teenagers only stayed to watch for a few minutes before wandering off, their path cutting a small sliver of walking space between the crowd and the street.

Edgar watched them curiously, noting they were generally disinterested in the conflict. He looked down at the once again dozing child on his hip and thought maybe it was a good chance to hand out more of the bibles weighing down his messenger bag and give Aaron a break from all of the boisterous yelling.

Instinct drove him to look for any sign of his other two siblings. He caught sight of Mayra scolding a sopping wet Jeremiah, who was holding an empty water bottle and smiling like a fiend so no need to guess what happened there. He only managed to briefly hold her attention to assure her he'd be nearby before she got pulled into the argument between their father and the ravenous crowd of naysayers. His expression shifted, a benign and unassuming smile settling as he juggled his load, his weight shifting to keep hold of his brother and reach down to pull a few books from his bag to hand out.

Tucked into the cover of each of the small white bible was a skinny 3-fold pamphlet with information on their congregation, where they worshiped and who to contact when interested in participating in morning and evening mass. Every time he handed out a book he felt like they were also reaching out in a small way, giving the casual passerby the option to come to God in their own time.

It seemed all the more futile when he thought about it in his own head, almost as bad as when the older members of their congregation shouted about the final judgment. Looking at the blasé faces of the teens parading by on their way from school, unaware of just how short this life would be, of how awful the end would be just made a tiny part of him feel foolish. He stood at the edge of a crowd, his brother on one hip and a bag full of salvation on the other content for one horrible moment to let them pass and vanish into the collective.

Aaron's tired grumbling snapped him out of his brief internal monologue of despair. With smile Edgar let the sight of the cranky child at his side coax the optimism out in him. Any person reached between now and then was worth the sickening knowledge that everyone else had chosen to fall.

[]

Things were getting heated, no fucking pun intended.

He could easily see from where he was situated, straddling the short, brick, perimeter wall, that shit was probably going to go down. There was a huge mob of people corralling the nervous group of Christian bible thumpers.

"Hey Fucktard!" He started as David's shiny bald head dropped into his line of sight. He winked his eye smugly at Jimmy as he jumped back to sit beside him. "Anyone been lynched yet?"

David was the guy he'd been sitting next in class for the last 3 years.

The slow crawl of people heading towards the small alcove of shops across the street was an interesting sight indeed. The few cars stuck on either side of the blockage honked noisily, unable to go back or move forward. All of the students in line snuck looks at the crowd, giddy with glee at the drama of the screaming street preacher and the people bravely stepping up to scream back.

Jimmy admitted to himself that he was getting little caught up in the whole thing too. To have the first day of class end with a hurrah Jesus hurrah across the street. Fucking priceless.

"I wanna closer look." He mumbled to David absently. The yelling was muffled from where they were, indistinct ramblings that might have sounded like "Salvation!" and "Hell!" but for the most part was drowned out by the horde of upset citizens buzzing threateningly around them.

Jimmy, and the asshole he might have considered a friend at one point, hopped off the wall and crossed the street, stomping the school flowerbeds as they went. They slipped between honking cars, shoved through the line of kids trying to avoid the messy confrontation and found a great spot to watch the street preacher theatrically illustrate the apocalypse.

He looked over at David and eyed the little wrinkle of irritation between his eyebrows with a sardonic smile.

"They pissing you off too?" he asked, elbowing the other teen. David yelped and bitchily shoved away the sharp joint, Jimmy laughed at him.

"We're Roman Catholic, dude. This shit's just fucking sad." But that just made Jimmy laugh harder.

Standing at the edge of a brewing riot under a blazing summer sun could only be fun for so long though. The two teens waited as long as their curiosity outweighed their discomfort before David decided whatever trouble that was bound to happen wasn't happening fast enough for him to endure more of the heat. Lazily they started pushing back towards the sidewalk, disappointed at the lack of bloodshed but ready to get out of the stifling air of the crowd when an irrational spark of depravity overcame Jimmy. Without thinking his foot shot out to trip up David.

Usually such instinctive acts of harassment were shrugged off as jokes, thoughtless gestures on behalf of Jimmy's unwillingness to think before acting. David should have stumbled a bit and then punched his classmate's shoulder, or called him an asshole and secretly planned to fuck up the handle of Jimmy's locker for revenge because it was hardly painful.

This time, however, he face-planted into an unlucky member of the crowd. His forehead, after colliding with the bony side of a shoulder, ached as he cursed violently at Jimmy for being so fucking immature. His arm flung out blindly to grab the hot, black fabric of the asshole's shirt when the muffled wail of a frightened child made them both freeze.

David's fistful of Jimmy went slack. They both stared uncertainly at the man and the cowering kid standing just off to the right of him, hugging his waist. Beady blue eyes stared warily at them from beside his hip. The guy leaned down indulgently and spoke quietly to the boy clutching the fabric of his shirt.

"Shhhhhh, it's okay. He wasn't yelling at you."When he stood again Jimmy noticed that the weirdly bland expression of his face didn't look irritated at either of them for the accident or subsequent bad-language, in front of his kid no less. In fact it shifted slightly when he glanced from Jimmy to David respectively. "Are you okay? Got your head pretty hard there." Something vaguely resembling a smile turned up the corners of his mouth. At least he wasn't pissed. Jimmy would have had it been his shoulder David's big ass head had smashed into.

"Fucking fine." Some people nearby were staring, if not at the kid then at the big ugly red spot on the shiny bald head of the teen stomping out of the crowd and down the street. Jimmy watched him go with no remorse. It wasn't like he'd done it on purpose, the shithead knew that.

"Here, I hope your friend is okay. God bless."

A small white book was stealthily placed into his hands and within seconds the guy and the kid were gone, shuffled forward by the crowd following the fundies as they made their escape to several vans parked at the far end of the lot. He watched them drive off as he meandered down the street in the vague direction of home, David long gone in the sweltering late summer heat.

He didn't even bother to question how the book made it into his backpack instead of the trash when he walked through the door of his apartment, instead passing out on the cool sheets of his bed with the crinkly sound of his building's air conditioner on overdrive in the vents above him.

The book managed to escape his immediate notice for almost half a year, school and his respective trade holding the bulk of his attention most days. Any moment of peace was spent dozing in the artificial warmth of his room where he could avoid the eviction threats of his landlady or just sleep for a solid 18 hours.

Sleeping to escape the cold was nice, Jimmy preferred to laze around but nothing recharged him like a weekend knocked out and alone in his apartment. It was after just such a weekend he noticed the fucking book and something else.

It was Sunday, late afternoon. His smelly landlady was banging on the door asking for her money and he was trying to sort out what he had, trying to separate bills from bottles of pills when a roll of ones and fives toppled into the depths of his bag.

"-you hear me you worthless addict? Rents due or you and your whore of a mother'll be out on your asses!"

Jimmy took a moment to savor a sweet drag of smoke from his cigarette, slowly digging through rumpled papers and debris for the wayward cash when his fingers skimmed something sharp with cold. Instinctively his hand shot back. He checked his fingers for cuts.

"I know you're in there you piece of shit. I want my money!"

It would be just like David to exact revenge by throwing loose razor blades into his bag. Jimmy had put a pinch of Valium in his sport's bottle a couple of days ago as a joke. Sure the guy'd been off his rocker for half the day and had to be picked up by his pissed off parents but seeing him stumble around the halls asking for his ball bag had been hilarious. Definitely an awesome story to tell later. At least Jimmy thought so.

His fingers seemed okay as far as he could tell.

"Open this damn door!"

He upended his bag, contents spilling across his bed and around his legs. He gathered his money and made it to the door just as Richard, his landlady's burly son raised his meaty fist to slam on the damn thing himself. They eyed all 5ft 11 inches of his skinny white frame with disgust as they opened each roll, meticulously counting out the cash. Jimmy leaned provocatively against the wall, door wedged against his hip as Richard thoughtlessly snapped the rubber bands onto his wrist, money safely stowed away in a small pouch on his mother's waist.

"Tell Rachel I'd better not find any strange men coming in and out." Jimmy grimaced at the use of his mother's given name. Like they were friends or some shit. "This ain't a hotel."

"I'm not her keeper."

"Her name's on the lease, boy. She out, you out." The older woman growled at him, long wrinkled finger pointing menacingly as she went. Richard moved beside her ever vigilant, face set in a scowl as he watched the threadbare fabric of Jimmy's tank shift. He quirked a sly grin and the guys face purpled.

God it was funny no matter how many times he did it. Hello Mr. Sexually-Oppressed, thy name is Richard.

He closed the door, leaning back to stare at the unkempt glory of his apartment. There wasn't really enough to make a mess, there never had been. What was there was not a part of the typical family home floor plan. Two mismatched loveseats corralled an end table with a small square TV, his 'living room if you would. The 'dining room' was a shabby card-table and two folding chairs. Scattered here and there were mostly empty glasses of some amber alcohol or another. Beer cans were piled up around the counter closest to the trashcan because sometimes it was nice to stick it to the rules and just leave them there. For, ya know, decoration.

"Fucking shame it would be to get kicked out of this pocket of paradise, huh?" He snarked at the empty air. "I'll be sure to let Rachel know the next time I see her." Which would probably be a while. His mother liked her boyfriend's apartment, didn't need strange men when she had whats-his-face. Not that she entertained strange men outside of the club.

Strippers were weird like that.

Jimmy had class in the morning and even though it was technically the weekend the drag of the coming week was still heavy on his shoulders. He sat on the edge of his bed and stared at the pile of shit he'd dumped from his bag. A fair amount of old homework, crumpled and dirty with pencil shaving dust was scattered about. He never finished the damn assignments, just enough work was squeezed in between classes and during lunch to scrape by on a solid C+ which was good enough for him. He just needed enough to pass the year, he'd forget whatever the class taught by the following semester anyway.

Slowly he tossed out wads of incomplete work and doodle pages. Bent up and ripped paper folders were put on his bedside table to tape up later, chewed up and broken pencils tossed in his drawer and his pens shoved in his bag's front pocket. He'd picked up the forest green binder he'd been using for about three years when a small white book toppled into his lap. Bible, it was a bible with gold embossed letters and cold faux leather cover. King James Version.

A lick of cold air cut through the warmth of his room. He glanced over at the window responsible for the leak of November cold viciously leeching air from his apartment. Jamming rinky dink towels between the sill and glass couldn't keep it out.

Just outside he noticed a small parade of people from the building across the alley. They were climbing in and out of an ugly white van with boxes and boxes of shit Jimmy couldn't see in a weird, cheery little procession. He poked moodily at the chilly towels in his window as he watched.

A tall older man in a swanky, apocalyptic-style hat stepped out from the double doors, eyes darting one way then the other, and ushered the flurry of people inside. Jimmy heard and ignored the distant pounding of Richard's meaty fist on a neighbor's door while he watched the weird religious family disappear into the building he had no idea they owned.

Jimmy was pretty sure he knew who they were, he'd seen them around protesting and shit. How the fuck had he missed where their homebase was? His window was right-fucking-there!

He pulled out a shitty white T-shirt from a bag of clean laundry at the foot of his bed, he hated the damn Funny Lion logo anyway, wrapped it around the towels and plugged the window again.

Futile were his efforts. November had long since decided to leach the unnatural warmth from Jimmy's apartment bedroom. Rachel's room was warmer but he'd be damned if he slept in the same bed his mother had sex in.

That'd been an uncomfortable morning after, for her and her boyfriend at least. Jimmy'd just been pissed.

He didn't like losing sleep, especially when he had to go to school the next morning. Damn woman told him all the time that he needed to get his diploma and then fucked up his day, if not his whole week, by screaming loud enough to have the whole apartment complex in an uproar.

Jimmy carelessly sent the little white bible tumbling into his desk, it toppled over the side and into a stack of old magazines he had underneath. After not giving a fuck about the mess he'd just made Jimmy slipped into bed, tucking himself in the nest of mismatching throw pillows and blankets, reveling in the lazy joy of knowing that in about a month he'd have the whole winter break to chill and sleep in. A whole two weeks to stay at home and not have teachers demanding he turn in course work or finish those tests they gave every week for no other reason than to sadistically watch their students squirm.

Sleep helped, it saved him from the headache he always seemed to have on Mondays when he tried to make the most of his weekends by, ya know, staying awake and doing shit. Fuck it.

If he slept now he'd wake up at 4am ready for a day of slipping uppers, downers and cigarettes for cash between classes and turning in work only slightly more than halfway finished to teachers who really only checked the first page for mistakes before moving on. Winter break was coming which of course meant nobody really gave a fuck. Midterms were a joke and second semester senior year was a blow-off semester anyway because if you didn't already have your shit figured out you were way too behind to be anything other than fucked.

He fell asleep around 4:30 and woke up just before 3 with five and a half hours to kill before school.

[]

The nudge against his hip was ignored, with a smile of course. Pissing David off was a great start to his day. Until that same foot hooked his bag and started dragging it off.

"You got my smokes, bitch?"

Jimmy kicked at his ankle to free his bag and graciously reached inside to pull out a crumpled pack of cigarettes.

"Course I do." Jimmy laughed and teased the box away when David tried to grab them. The bald teen growled at him. "Look at you, man. Getting all worked up over your addiction," David stomped up and snatched them right from his hand, "what would your parents think?"

He lit up and took a long slow drag before answering.

"Been craving these all weekend. Drove me nuts not being able to leave the house, you're lucky I'm gonna accept these things as payment for that shit you pulled with my water bottle." He dropped to the ground next to Jimmy, glad he decided to stop by early and enjoy a leisurely smoke before school. "They had me help downstairs, stacking posters and shit to send out." He muttered stonily.

Jimmy almost felt bad for the prank knowing that. Almost.

"You should have drawn penises on the swastikas before they mailed them off or something. Not my fault you missed a perfectly good opportunity to fuck with people all over the country cause you were too busy feeling sorry for yourself."

"Fuck you."

Before either of them could dwell on it for too long the double doors of the building across the alleyway opened. They watched as a small procession of people marched out carrying boxes and baskets of crap to pile into the back of the van parked nearby.

"Huh." But before David could say anything the alarm on Jimmy's watch went off, "What time is it?"

"Almost 5:30."

"Shit, I gotta get home." He stood up to leave. The old man who stood watch by the doors visibly tensed as he drew closer before curtly guiding the two youngest members of the group inside. With a maniacal grin David called out to Jimmy as he jogged out onto the sidewalk, "Thanks for the blowjob! See ya at school!"

Asshole. Jimmy scowled.

He watched him disappear around the corner, already planning out how he was gonna get the douche bag back.

As Jimmy stood to leave his Bible Jockey neighbors tittered about public displays of faggotry, which while not the worst epithet used in relation to him was certainly one of the more irritating. Several disgusted looks followed him as he took off in the other direction to meet a contact before class started. Later that day during lunch he found a big fat rat near the cafeteria dumpster and turned it loose in David's PE locker. He felt no remorse even when David complained about having to help his family mail out racist propaganda the upcoming weekend too for "bringing an animal onto school grounds" and "destroying school property".

It was on Friday, while waiting for David's ride that the two of them saw a huge rush of students trying to get to a large crowd of people around the shopping mall for the second time that year. Just like back then the street was blocked and the whole area noisier than usual with chatter and honks from the cars on either side of the human dam.

David only stuck around long enough to cross the street and stand at the edge of the crowd with Jimmy. His father parked a few blocks away to pick him up, warned by his son via text message about the trouble brewing in the parking lot across from the school. After he left Jimmy elbowed his way to the front of the crowd.

It was a mob scene. The demonstrators were mostly packed against their cars while the huge crowd pressed forward, yelling angrily. He couldn't tell what the whole mess was about from where he was but the scraps of torn up signs under the feet of the crowd gave a good indication.

The fundies didn't stick around for more than a few hours. He caught sight of them later in the day on his way back from a little business a few streets down ducking into their cars to escape from the screaming mob in the shopping center parking lot. Their piece of shit cars took off pretty quick considering how old they looked.

Slowly the crowd started to disperse, seemingly satisfied with how well they'd driven their enemies away. As they left many of the adults were still in deep discussion, arguing, much more gently, with each other over true Christianity and how those "horrible people" gave it a bad name.

Not particularly interested in joining the discussion Jimmy pushed his way past them. He used boney knees and elbows to cross the parking lot and slip into a small convenience store, tapping the Marlboro sign in the doorway out of habit.

"God, I love when they show up."

"It's horrible that they twist the bible like that." A woman at the register shook her head disapprovingly. "Jesus preached love, not hate. I feel so sorry for those kids, growing up with such anger in them, as the foundation of their faith . . ."

"But it's great for business."

Jimmy ducked to the back of the store, snatching a bag of Doritos on the way as more of a reflex than an actual need to steal. He wasn't doing too bad money-wise but it couldn't hurt to test his skills from time to time while the people up front were distracted.

His guy, Jeff, had told him that the drop would be by the trashcans, said if they weren't there then he was screwed because that meant either someone else had stumbled on them by accident or knew they were being stashed there.

Accident or not he'd take out on Jeff's hide, loose-lipped asshole that he was. He slipped out of the building through the back just as a the remaining dregs of mob were wandering out and away for the night.

Jimmy quickly scanned his surroundings, dismissing the sound of nearby dogs and the smell of garbage as he stalked over to the blocked off trash area. It wasn't till he was a good 5 ft away that he heard hushed voices.

" . . . should stay here?"

"Things looked pretty bad. I don't think anyone will attack us but I'd rather wait until some of those people go home before heading out. They pushed you down pretty hard, I don't want to chance it."

"It smells really bad out here. Like something died."

"With all the glass and nails around here I wouldn't be surprised."

They were near the trash bins.

[]

"It smells really bad out here. Like something died." Edgar winced. It hadn't really been much of a plan to duck behind the building. The crowd had surged at some point and he and Jeremiah had been separated from the congregation.

The whole thing turned into a disaster, a horrible and dangerous disaster. When they'd tried to reconnect with them they'd been pushed back and Jeremiah had nearly been trampled.

They'd hidden in the first place they could find, which of course smelled really bad. Leftover cinderblocks had been piled along one end, where they decided to sit, and several tall green trash cans with wheels were overflowing with trash across from them.

"With all the glass and nails around here," he glanced down guiltily at the ugly scratches on his little brother's palms and knees, "I wouldn't be surprised." Jeremiah hadn't complained about the small injuries much but they still looked bad. He wanted to clean them up but didn't want to risk running into the group of men who'd outright attacked them in the first place.

"Mom's right, it'll take a miracle to save those people-" Jeremiah suddenly cut off staring wide-eyed at the entrance of the little alcove. Edgar followed his line of sight up to where the skinny, dark frame of a teenage boy stood blocking them in.

Edgar, at a loss for what else to do, stood up and scooted his younger brother behind him. They watched the teen stride over to the trashcans and, while keeping a half wary half irritated eye on them, pull from some hidden place a small black duffle.

'Please let that be it. Just walk away and leave, we don't want any trouble.'

The teenager, whoever he was, inspected them from his position near the only exit.

'God, help us. Please don't let him be one of the men who attacked my family.'

Inside of Edgar's chest a knot formed right between his lungs and in direct connection to his heart. Each second that went by under the scrutiny of young man, with an alarming appreciation of the color black, made that knot tighten. His pulse flew, behind him his younger brother shuffled out of view of the frightening stranger.

Then suddenly, after possibly coming to the conclusion that Edgar and Jeremiah weren't a threat, all of the tension seemed to drain away from the teen. His shoulders dropped in a lazy tilt, head drooping to one side as he regarded them with a bored stare.

"You two are from that group with the signs." Not a question, definitely not a question. He was eyeing their khaki pants as if they were a dead giveaway.

Which was kind of silly, plenty of people still wore khakis. Edgar knew because there was always an abundance of them at the second hand shop where they got their clothes.

"Ya know," he took several steps forward, boots scuffing the gravely ground, "'m pretty sure all your people left already." His eyes looked kinda sleepy, the skin of his lids black like a bruise.

Edgar silently prayed that the man wasn't high or drunk, or already set on hurting them. Maybe if he distracted him he could give Jeremiah a chance to run away.

"Got any cash on you?" A shiver of dread ran down his spine. Were they being robbed?

"I'm sorry," his little brother's fingers were digging into the arm he had twisted behind his back. Images of their mangled, bloody bodies flashed in his mind's eye, "but we don't have any money."

That got a laugh, and a sort of half-sway one might do when one might need to go to the bathroom.

"Yeah I figured." Dark eyes traveled from his shoes up to his face. "Don't look like the type to carry anything useful on you."

Dread, horrible horrible dread was following the path of those eyes. This couldn't be happening.

He stepped back again, his legs hitting the front of Jeremiah's knees. He could feel them shaking. Edgar thanked God Almighty that, at the very least, this person so far was focused on him.

"Just a bag full of bibles, anyone else and I'd check but I remember you." He pointed at Edgar's face like the whole thing just hilarious. "You guys were out there at the beginning of the year. Nearly started a riot then too."

"Oh you were there?" He nodded, willing to go along with anything at that point. "Do you go to the school across the street?" His reply was an absent nod yes as the guy reached into his pocket for cigarettes and a lighter. "I hope our demonstrations didn't cause you or the other students any trouble, it's usually just one of the best places to interact with more people."

"Guess it would be." He mumbled back. Edgar's brain scrambled for something else to say, anything to keep the conversation friendly. He didn't have much experience with socializing so short of mentioning the weather, which was not nice even at the moment, or asking about school Edgar had no idea where to go from there.

The silence stretched uncomfortably.

"Listen, we-" he stopped unsure if he was doing the right thing in such a situation, if it was good or bad to bring attention to his little brother, "I've got to get home, my family is probably really worried . . ."

Oh God, was he being rude? Was he making the situation worse by reminding this person that it had been a long time since the protest had started? Were most of the people there gone already?

The guy's face adopted a peculiar expression. Edgar didn't like it.

". . . It was really nice to meet you-?"

"Jimmy."

"-nice to meet you, Jimmy." Jeremiah stood up behind him, ready to leave as well. He grabbed his bag and stepped forward uncertainly.

Jimmy was still blocking the only way out. Edgar wondered briefly, before he could stop himself, if the guy had a knife on him somewhere.

"You live in that big white building down the street, yeah?"

No

No no no no

"I saw that little kid there the other day at least." He gave them a considering look at the both of them. "Pretty sure I've seen you there too." His tone made it clear that arguing was useless.

"Uh-"

"I live in the building behind you. Come on."

"That's nice of you, but really we're fine-"

"I'm heading home anyway." And just like that Jimmy slipped like a shadow out of the cinderblock trash niche.

"Edgar, what do we do?"

But what could he say to comfort his little brother? They had no way to call for help, no money or anything to defend themselves with. He didn't know what to do.

"Hurry the fuck up." Clipped, commanding and impatient. Edgar was jarred from his ponderings by the shout, his grip on Jeremiah's wrist tight. He refused to let go.

Cautiously he peeked out. To his left was a long stretch of gravel alleyway and to his right was the street where the guy, Jimmy, stood irritated and scowling. At least Jimmy didn't have any friends nearby. If they could get to the parking lot things would be better. There would be others there, multiple sets of eyes to watch them and make sure nothing happened.

'If he wanted to kill us what better a place than in an alley? Maybe this isn't as bad as I'm making this out to be. Know not, judge not.'

Except there weren't more people. The lot was empty. And even though the lights in most of the shops were on he couldn't see anyone at the registers or near the windows. The signs he could see said they were open but no one was within eyesight, probably not within earshot either. There was enough light in the sky that most of the road was still visible. As if on autopilot he kept going, thinking all the while that he should take his little brother and run into one of the stores for a phone.

Jimmy was walking on one side, the smell of smoke heavy around him, while Jeremiah was on the other. His little brother was trembling faintly where he was holding on to him. They were halfway across the parking lot when Jimmy broke the heavy silence.

"Do they usually drive off and leave you guys at the mercy of angry mobs or was this just a really bad day for your family?" He rasped at them, smoke spilling out with each word in whit wisps. He laughed at Jeremiah's flinch and Edgar's uncomfortable expression.

'God just let them drive up.'

Their escort cleared his throat absently as they reached the sidewalk. Headlights from down the street stopped Edgar and his brother in their tracks. By the time the unfamiliar vehicle passed he was about a yard ahead staring back at them impatiently.

'God please, deliver us.'

Jimmy wasn't sure what he was doing.

"I thought you wanted to get home." It probably sounded a lot harsher than he'd intended. Oh well.

The little boy was staring at his bag. "What's in that?"

"Jeremiah, hush."

Jimmy sneered down at the little shit as his . . . older brother, uncle or whoever tried to get him to keep him quiet.

"What's in the bag? Drugs? Guns?"

"Jeremiah stop!" The little boy was desperately jerked around by the older man who knelt down to look him right in the eye. "Not now." He whispered urgently. The kid nodded, shaking like he was on the verge of hyperventilating.

A little node of satisfaction wiggled with glee inside of Jimmy.

Older dude stood and pulled the kid closer to him, glancing at Jimmy uncertainly.

"That's why I hate kids," He nodded over at the blue-eyed loud mouth beside the older man, "they stick their fucking faces where they shouldn't." A twinge of something flitted across the other man's face. Jimmy wondered not for the first time just how old he could be.

He was a little taller than Jimmy, probably a few inches at best. Gangly but not awkward like a teen, Jimmy grudgingly admitted that his face might've looked mature or whatever. He could easily be the Little Shit in 10 years if it weren't for the obvious difference in skin and hair color.

Someone in that family probably had a slice of Hispanic pie somewhere along the way, it would explain how he managed to be that particular shade of Latin so late in the year. Considering the family Jimmy doubted it was spray tan.

He was brought back to reality by an uncomfortable cough.

"I'm sorry for the trouble, we'll get out of your way." And without warning Dude and the kid took off across the street. The little kid was half dragged, half ushered away, feet stomping the blacktop then suddenly quieting as they hurried down the sidewalk.

Jimmy watched them for several seconds and seriously considered the pros and cons of following but before he could decide a rumbling van turned a corner, it's headlights illuminating their backs

He watched a familiar, off-white heap of junk pull up to a stop beside them. The rear doors burst open and a woman hopped out, swooping in to gather up the sobbing little boy against her and whispering softly to him. Jimmy watched the reunion with a sneer of distaste and unease. Thankfully no one bothered to even glance his way.

The doors slammed shut again with both wayward family members safely squirreled away inside. The van drove off in a dark puff of exhaust. Jimmy was alone again, silently contemplating the whereabouts of the little white bible he'd tossed somewhere in his room and the informational packet he knew was still tucked inside.

[]

"What on earth happened?"

Mayra rushed Jeremiah off to the bathroom, their mother closing in from behind with a bowel and towels. His father's hand came down on Edgar's shoulder like a lead weight, turning him to face both him and his brother, and Edgar's uncle, Nathaniel.

"We drove around looking for the both of you. Where did you go?"

"Nowhere." Edgar paused, his little brother's sobbing filling in the silence. The two older men stared him down, his father carefully blank and his uncle slightly suspicious. "When the crowd surged on everyone we tried to reach the car but someone pushed Jeremy down. I grabbed him and ran." He ended in a whisper, still not sure he'd done the right thing. "The men who threatened us were still yelling after everyone left, I didn't know what else to do so we waited in the alley for them to leave." Edgar, ashamed, couldn't bring himself to look either man in the eyes.

If his family hadn't driven up at just that moment . . . anything could have happened. He and Jeremiah had been at the mercy of a very unsavory person who may or may not have been armed, who might have been leading them off somewhere, who could have killed if not seriously harmed them.

His father's grip on his shoulder relaxed and when Edgar looked up he saw acceptance and understanding.

"I'm glad you're both safe." He gave Edgar's shoulder a reassuring pat, his voice a calm thrum through the tension of the tiny foyer. "The hand of God was with us tonight. He knows we do good work, he never left your side." He sighed, eyes heavy with relief. Edgar felt another twinge of remorse. His uncle's face was still hard with disappointment. "We thank God tonight for the safe return of the entire flock. No one was hurt."

All three men heard the bathroom door down the hall open. Edgar's mother stepped out, eyes red, face lined and sad. She glanced between each of them, dazed before settling on her husband.

"He's gonna be fine. Just a few scratches on his knees and hands." She looked over, unsure, at her oldest son. "He said a man made you both follow him." Edgar grimaced and she continued, spurred by his reaction. "That's why he's still crying, he was scared. I can't get much else out of him." This time it was Nathaniel who grabbed Edgar and spun him around.

"Was that who I saw across the street?" He stared hard into Edgar's eyes as if waiting for a lie. "Did you know him?"

"No. I'd never seen him before—"

"Why didn't you say something about this earlier?" His father interjected, concerned.

"I don't know—"

"Jeremiah mentioned drugs and guns—!" His mother cut in, voice near hysterical.

"We didn't actually see anything like that—"

"Then why would your brother say that he saw—"

"Erica, screaming will not help matters." She glared shrewdly at her husband who approached calmly, his arms opened to embrace her.

"Don't tell me to be calm when one of my kids is still crying in Mayra's lap. He is traumatized."

"Why did you follow him if you didn't know him?" Edgar's uncle asked.

Everyone was talking at once, his parents arguing, his uncle interrogating him. Whatever fear he'd felt earlier had left him exhausted, drained. He just wanted to make sure his brothers were okay, that Mayra hadn't been hurt, that his entire family was intact and he needed to see it with his own eyes. Instead all he could see was his uncle's shrewd expression as he snapped his fingers in front of Edgar's face, calling his name.

As if by the grace of God his older sister stepped in with Aaron and Jeremiah to either side of her. Their quiet sniffling effectively stopped the angry babbling.

"If all you're going to do is yell then please do so outside." The skin around her eyes was puffy and red as well. She gestured gently to the boys as she guided them over to the couch. "They don't need to hear it." Once they were seated she motioned for everyone to follow.

Once everyone was seated all eyes seemed to fall on him. He started off slow, explaining that when Jeremiah fell there were so many people that he'd almost been trampled. Edgar noticed Aaron leaning against his side and wondered what might have happened if he'd had his 9 year old brother instead of his 12 year old one. Aaron was so much smaller, he might have actually been stomped on or just lost in the crowd.

He carefully slipped his arm around little Aaron's shoulders, a comfort for himself as much as for the smallest member of his family who hugged him back.

"There was this little area behind the store where they dump the trash. We hid there so I could get a look Jeremy's cuts. That's when he showed up. Said his name was Jimmy."

[]

He stared down at the dingy brochure, fingers idly tracing the list of people under a group photo. No last names, which was smart. Made it harder to track down where people lived if either their last or first names weren't listed. A useless precaution in this situation, he already knew where they lived.

Left to Right: Madison, Lenny, Henry, Mayra, Aaron, Edgar, Jeremiah, Gregory, Erica, Nathaniel, Justin, Jessica, Philip, Chris.

He scratched out the face of each name that led up to the one he was looking for and all the ones after.

Edgar

There was a number on the back of the brochure and an address for a place to meet the congregation downtown for service. Jimmy took out a pen and set it, the brochure, and the bible on the table beside his bed. Next service was on Wednesday, 8 pm - 9 pm.

End part 1