Marker of Faith

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 19

John and Rattle were back at the coffee shop, huddled in the same booth as earlier in the day.

"I'm losin' it, man," John said in a ragged whisper as he tried to light a cigarette. The repetitive click of the lighter sounded like chattering teeth. "Going tits-up bye-bye," he whispered as the lighter finally flared. John held the quivering flame on the end of his cigarette; it shimmied between his shaking lips, and he coughed as he inhaled too deeply.

"Take a few slow deep breaths and imagine a field of snow," Rattle said calmly.

John reached up with two fingers and rubbed the space between his eyebrows. "What?" he snapped.

"The brain mummies at the VA Hospital told me to try it. They said, 'Visualize a peaceful place and just let yourself be there,' and you know what?" Rattle grinned at John. "It actually works." John looked at him skeptically.

"Seriously, just try it," Rattle said.

John sighed and leaned back against the booth. Why not? He closed his eyes and tilted his head back. After a minute, he heard his heartbeat and the whoosh-whoosh of blood rushing in his ear drums, but so far all he could visualize was the back of his own eyelids.

Snow, think of snow, he thought desperately, taking another deep breath. One perfect little flake materialized in his mind's eye and it floated gently down on top of his frenzied memories. It wasn't a field, but it was a start. He cracked open an eyelid and peeked at Rattle across the booth.

"Well?" the old man asked.

"I guess," John answered sullenly. He actually did feel a little calmer now.

"That was all I managed to take away from that evil place," Rattle said, leaning back against the cracked upholstery. "So, what do we do now?"

"How the fuck should I know?" John snapped as he took a sip of his coffee. "I still want a drink."

Rattle started to pull out his paper-wrapped bottle of Mad Dog, but John put his hand up, saying with a weak smile, "No, not that crap again." He put his head down on the table next to an ashtray and watched the smoke from his cigarette rise in silvery little rings towards the ceiling.

"Christ in a tea cup," Rattle chuckled.

"Now that's a peaceful place I can visualize." John's cell phone chirped and he sat up to answer it.

"What!" he barked into the phone, thinking it was the Chief calling to bust his balls, yet again.

"John, it's Roddy."

"Oh, hi. Pretty meaty, eh?" John said, referring to the dead imam. "I tried to warn you." He looked over at Rattle who was staring out the front window with a detached look on his face.

Roddy's voice sounded tinny and strained through the cell phone. "Yes, it was gruesome. We need to chat. I have the work up on the priest and a preliminary on the rabbi, but I think this new one will be the same as the others. It's got a weird feel -- some nasty twists and turns, and I think...well, I don't know what I think, but I need to see you and have a face-to-face about it all."

"I'm sorry about earlier," John said.

"Yeah, I don't know if I should keep talking to you about all this, but --"

"Roddy," John interrupted. "I'm cool. I'm on the case. It's fucked up and I can't deny that I'm treading water, but I'm on it." He rubbed his forehead and sighed. The cell phone connection crackled and John looked at the signal bar on the screen.