Into the Light

Chapter 31

Chapter: 31

But suppose that ignorance and difficulty are the natural state of the soul that it begins there and advances towards knowledge and rest as the happy life is brought to perfection within. Even so, the soul is not denied the power to make this progress by piety and diligent study of the highest things. If by its own will it refuses to do so, it is justly punished by being cast into deeper ignorance and greater difficulty; by the most proper and suitable government of the universe, it is placed among inferior things.

On Free Choice of the Will: Augustine, Book three, 22.

Miles pass by on I-81 as Darius is at the wheel of the Mazda as they head north towards WashingtonD.C. In the passenger seat, Blake's arms cross to help keep in the warmth. The clouds cover the entire eastern seaboard from Maine to northern Georgia in a bleak morning. No rain or snow, no storm out at sea, just the stresses of the millibars, atmospheric pressure and gray. The news comes over the radio "...Cashmere rebels arms themselves with nuclear devices and the conflict with India escalates to higher tensions."

With a hard tap, Blake changes the station and says, "All of that will be redundant soon. Damn it, I must check the venom canister. Darius drive cool," Blake says, cracks his neck with a roll and pulls the venom canister out from the glove box. All is there and he puts it in the cup holder between the seats. The Unknown Soldier by the Doors comes on the radio bringing chill down Darius's back.

The music sticks to their ears and Darius emboldened by the tune begins to drum the rhythm on the steering wheel. His attention lapses causing his foot to push the gas pedal a little more and a twenty mile per hour creep up over the speed limit ensues as a forested scenic route break the last section of highway planted with mini-malls. A policeman wearing prescription sunglasses, a gift from his church, catches them on radar as they blur by and the siren blares a song of violation. Blue and red beams of light spin.

The flashes cut through the Mazda and Blake's face clenches.

"Damn it Darius, I told you to drive cool," he says and Darius pops a look in the rearview mirror.

"Shit."

The Mazda pulls to the shoulder and Darius looks at Blake who has a stare like a raven on a totem pole. The officer, a bit overweight but he just started a new diet, struggles to get out of his patrol car in the brisk morning air. The vehicle is secured and he tracks up to the driver's side of the Mazda with unbending knees. He tickles the side of his flashlight. Stiggy's eyes and cops eye meet.

"Out of state license plates," Stiggy whispers.

The window disappears into the door with the buzz of an electric motor. The officer puts his hand on his gun, a 38 snub-nose his daughter bought for him last Christmas.

"Problem?" Darius asks.

"Can I see your license and registration and proof of insurance?"

As Darius reaches for the glove box, he bumps the canister in the cup holder and the top comes off. The cop tears his glasses from his face with a swipe and stuffs them into his light green shirt pocket right above the armpit stains. The information is handed to the cop but he keeps his sights on the canister. Droplets of rain fall on the ID. The needle, covered by the dry latex, on Blake's right arm begins to itch.

The cop lowers his right hand to his side, sticks the license in his pocket, and Darius sees the gun latch unclip with a thumb flip.

"You know boys that we've had some trouble with outastaters bringing weapons through here. You boy look like the friendly types and cause no harm, but can I please ask ya'll to get out of the car and allow me just to pick through for knives or other sorts of weapons?"

"Sure," Darius says.

The exposed plastic baggie of venom powder is too far for Blake to grab.

"I'm just gonna look for hunting weapons cause of poaching and some kids have been held up on the road a ways down there, but I'm sure there not gonna be a problem."

He pops open the driver's side door and his hand reaches for the middle console. The baggies is snatched and held aloft.

"What's this? Coke?" the cop asks and puts his hand on his gun.

"No it's my special sweetener. I can't have sugar or artificial stuff so I get my own organic root sweetener," Blake says from the passenger seat.

"Really," he says and unseals the baggie.

"Wait. Many people are highly allergic to that. Don't taste it," Blake says and the cop dabs his pinkie with the venom. A bitter numbness spreads across his tongue.

"Don't taste like sweetener but not coke neither. What is this? Heroin?"

"No. It's death."

The holster resists the cop's efforts to free his gun with a testy button latch but the 38 snubnose breaks it bonds and is pointed at Darius's head. A bright red and purple flush races across his face. The cop backs up, stumbles and fumbles back up to his feet like a sea cucumber rolling in the surf. The baggie of venom falls to the road as the rain becomes dense. With the last of his honor, pride, and fear he falls back towards his cruiser. The sirens are hit and the radio comes to life as the cop's drains away.

The passenger door opens and Blake searches the ground for the baggie. He scoops it up, seals it, and heads to the cruiser. The siren fades out and the cop is propped up into his seat. Darius just watches Blake grab his ID out of the immobilized cop's pocket and mount the radar gun on the dash and then walk back with hard intent.

"People will just think it's a speed trap for hours. Don't fuck up again Darius."

The ID flicks out of Blake's hand to Darius.

"No more driving for you," Blake says and gets in the driver's side as Darius hops in the passenger seat.

"His death will not be without meaning."

The turn signal goes on as they pull off the shoulder and Blake drives the speed limit all the way to the crowded DC beltway.

...

The thinning canopy of pine and oak along the highway begin to be blown horizontally by easterly gusts. Vertical perspective is gone and there is nothing but a single point where all parallel lines meet in front of them. Tunnel vision. Blake hits the gas pedal.

"I don't think I can do this Blake. I don't want to fail," Stiggy says from the back seat.

"They aren't human. They create chaos by setting us against each other. We have to stop them before they cause the next civil war. A war of class, not the North and South, soon people will wake up and see that there is an aristocracy and not a meritocracy in the U.S. and they've been sold a lie that they can be an aristocrat too," Blake says.

"Look at Alexander, no Rome, expand and spend, conquest by economy the use the outlying tribes against themselves, but this cannot be upheld. Sooner or later they will piss off someone who will inspire defeat. History has shown that empires don't work but diversity does but still empires still keep popping up," Darius says. The car smells of sour cream and onion potato chips. A half-eaten bag rests by Stiggy's feet.