Marker of Faith

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 25

Rattle stayed in the hot steam of the shower for almost an hour; he felt like years of filth and sorrow were washing down the drain. With a contented sigh, he turned off the water and toweled himself dry.

"Too bad I gotta put on the same dirty clothes," he said wistfully to the steamy room. He wrapped himself in a warm hotel robe, the scent of bleach and fabric softener making him remember another time, and glanced at the fogged mirror. He almost wiped away the condensation to see his newly scrubbed image, but he stopped just short, his fingertips resting softly on the glass.

What would he see? Clean hair and a scrubbed face wouldn't make a difference; the heavy lines around his eyes and mouth, lines from sorrow and hunger, would still be there. He thought about his life before the war, before the terror of Vietnam, before the drugs and booze and anger, and he turned away quickly and stalked out of the bathroom. He looked around the motel room and put his hands on his full stomach, which gurgled slightly, as if trying to tell him a secret. Frowning, he realized that he hadn't had a drink since the mosque; it seemed a lifetime ago. He shuffled over to his pile of dirty clothes and picked up his jacket, wrinkling his nose at the sour street smell that clung to it.

A wave of melancholy washed over him again and he sank down on the edge of his bed that faced the door. He dropped the jacket on the floor, the thud of the bottle of wine hidden deep in a pocket echoing loudly in the small room, and his eyes stung with tears. Rattle bowed his head in his hands and began crying softly.

"I ain't nobody," he whispered through the tears.

"That's right, Rattle," a voice viciously said behind him.

Rattle swung his head up and around and saw Lem standing at the foot of the bed. Rattle's heart hammered in his chest as he jumped up and looked at the door in a panic. The security chain was still engaged -- how did Lem get in?

"Lem?" he whispered. He took a step back and clutched the robe tighter around him.

"Sad old Rattle," Lem said with a wink.

"Ho-how did you get in here?" Rattle croaked as he took another step backwards, sneaking a glance at the locked door again. Lem cocked his head to the side, a feral smile creeping onto his cracked and bloody lips.

"Oh, I can do lots of things now," Lem said, and in the blink of an eye, he was standing in front of Rattle.

The old man gasped and stumbled back. He hadn't even seen Lem move!

An evil giggle erupted from Lem's mouth and he pressed his mangled hand against Rattle's forehead. With a theatrical flourish Lem said, "Boo!" and shoved.

Rattle dropped to the floor and scrambled on hands and knees around the monster in front of him. He had to warn John! Rattle was frantically trying to reach the phone on the nightstand, but Lem materialized in front of him and shoved him to the floor with his foot. Lem ground his filthy boot between Rattle's shoulder blades, howling with glee when the old man cried out in pain.

"I'm not too happy with you, Rattle. You played a tricksie on your pal here. If I would have known you were a Guardian, I'd a killed you a long time ago."

Lem's words sent a chill down the old man's spine.

"Lem, I don't know what you are talking about."

"LIAR!" Lem screamed, and ground his boot again until Rattle's back popped. He pulled his foot away and smirked. "It don't matter none. I've got you now, old man. There's not even that much power in you, either. Just a sad bag of wasted meat.