Walking out of This World

Seventeen

"Thanks for the ride." I leave her car and head for the House, hoping to avoid Warren.

I pick up an after dinner snack and head for the room. The door swings open to easily for my liking. The first thing I see is Warren's laptop open on his desk. There are images moving on the lighted surface.

Out of curiosity I take a closer look. A cold rush of pure fear rushes through my body.

It can't be!

Oh yes it can!

There we are, Lacey and me, happily filling little plastic bags, giggling and laughing.

I plop into Warren's desk chair, aghast at the scene looping over and over again.

"How do you like the video?" Poison's sarcasm driving Warren's words.

"Not much," I weakly reply.

Now his iron-hard face and blazing eyes are inches from my face.

"I thought we could trust you, John!" He accuses.

"Lacey's a friend. Right?" I mutter.

"No way, John. In this business there are no friends. Only enemies," Warren yells, backing away from the force of his words. "We depend on secrecy. Every member of this team has no idea about what the others do. That's the way it works. And, that's the way we work it. And, you...John... broke the code."

"I'm sorry...but I just thought..." I look up from the computer.

"Sorry is also the enemy, John."

The pumpkin lantern is glowing yellow...and that ugly grin is laughing at me. It's like Warren's voice is being projected from deep within its yellow mouth.

"You are suspended, John!" His face is once more closing in on mine, anger spewing in the spittle from his lips. "You're going to have to get your smokes the same way everyone else does. Hand me your phone!" He commands.

"Why?" I ask, fear still wreaking havoc on my brain.

"There's no more why for you, John. You just follow orders...and...maybe...you'll earn your way back into my good graces."

I hand him my phone.

His thumbs fly over the letters. Then, he shoves it back into my face. "Put your password in the box."

I follow his orders and hand it back.

He turns the phone toward me. "Do you see this pumpkin icon?"

"Yes."

"When you want some smokes you engage this icon. It will open a window where you can deposit money. Then, you'll receive a blank note in the mail with the time and date for your pickup. Got it?"

"Yeah."

"So, your job until further notice is to keep a low profile, go to class, do your errands around the house. And, keep your mouth shut! Got it?"

My body feels like its been soaked in water and rung out real tight. "I need to go for a walk. If that's alright with you?"

Warren shoves his nose in my face. "You just do that, little brother. I don't care if you walk to hell and back. Just be back here before your new curfew. Midnight!"

I throw on my warmest coat, crawl out of the room, out the House's front door. Then, I run. I run until the wind totally blows out of my lungs. I lean against a tall electric pole, rescue a greenie from my pocket and light up.

The green haze buzzes my brain allowing a boat load of fear to pour out of my eyes. Every long puff slithers deep into the inner sanctum, resting in the yellow glow of Mr. Pumpkin. One knows what has to be done.

I try to call Lacey but I just get the standard "I can't answer right now. Please call again".

I'm tired. The fight has been sucked out of me by Warren's cleaning.

Visions of Jenkins' fists hanging out of the sleeves of a tweed coat stomp through my head. What will he do?

"Shh! Daddy's here. Just keep smoking!"

It's Friday and I'm waiting around on first street for my pickup. I see a tall tweed coat plowing its way in my direction. Jenkins!

"Ya starting to look like me. How long you been working on that long hair and browny beard?" He asks. His growl is more forceful than I remember.

"About four weeks."

"Where ya been. Haven't seen you at the shelter for a while?"

"Lost interest. I guess." I reply, trying to ignore the surging fear rising in my body.

"Ya lost interest in some other things, Warren's been telling me!"

His eyes flash and the knuckles of his right hand introduce themselves to my face. I wobble and collapse onto the side walk. A squiggle of blood wiggles down my chin.

"The only thing ya need is the learning of respect." He stands over my prone body and rearranges one of his oversized shoes onto my chest.

"Now...What is it ya doin' down here?"

"Picking up my smokes." The words escape my mouth in the hands of weak gasps for air.

"Alright, then. Get up!"

I struggle to my feet. Jenkins shoves a round package into my stomach.

I recognize the newspaper cylinder from my one day on the job. I place the white folded paper in his outstretched left hand. He checks it with his flashlight.

"Took me some time to make all of these. You must have a rich daddy to afford all them smokes." He takes a long look into my eyes. "One day you and me are going to have to take a little trip to the ATM...I'd say."

I twist on my feet and take off down the street toward the bus stop.

"Have ya self a good time!" His words fall away and are eaten by the First Street air.