Walking out of This World

Twenty Three

I have to confront Warren. His weed business has to be stopped!

"Warren here," his firm voice makes a statement.

"John," I reply.

"John! Well ain't this a surprise. Where are you? Your dad wasn't very happy about your disappearing act."

"I need to see you, Warren. I'll explain everything."

"Well...Hey...Come on over. I'll be here the rest of the day."

This whole venture reminds me of Daniel being sent to the lion's den. That was a story I heard in Sunday School when I was just a little kid. I really got caught up in the story. I had bad dreams that night until I remembered that I AM shut the lions' mouths.

The bus is plowing up the hill toward Road House. A skiff of new snow is coloring the street with a dirty white. Paul understands my mission, which he is supporting with a bus pass. Round trip is my intention, as long as Warren cooperates. "Don't worry, I won't be gone long," I promised. I still have a job to do back at the shelter.

Same walk up another little hill to the House. Same gray box with the bell and camera. "John Foster," I answer.

"There's no John Foster here. State your purpose!"

A muffled voice is slightly audible in the background. The door pops and I'm heading for the visitor area.

Warren is seated in a Lazy Boy, legs resting on the foot piece that lifts one's legs to a more comfortable position.

"Have a seat." His eyes are closed, a grin is pulling across his face. "What's on your mind?" He forces the leg lift down and leans forward, a bemused expression occupying his face. "Need some smokes?" He throws the words out behind a laugh.

"No, Warren. I don't need any more smokes and neither does anyone else. I'm here to ask you to shut down your operation."

"Oh! Now ain't that a request for the ages." He leans back into the Lazy Boy, hands clasped at the back of his head.

After a moment's pause he abruptly leans forward. "You have no idea what you're asking for, John!" His words are steaming down the tracks. "There's the offshore guys. They aren't interested in loosing business!"

"We can make a plan and get this whole thing cleaned up," I reply.

"How's that plan going to keep us healthy?" He leans back in his chair with a don't-be-ridiculous expression handling his face.

"Trap them with law enforcement!"

"Now that's a great idea!" His words are packing more force. "Some of them are players...like Jenkins. He pauses and his eyes turn up. Forget I said that." He jumps off the chair and heads for the hall. "Your time's up, John. I'll tell your dad you're still alive." He throws the words behind his back.

Jenkins! The cop! Next stop!

I figure if I hang around Sally's Bar Jenkins will show up. If we can break that link in this ugly business the whole thing just might crumble.

He's exiting Sally's and heading for the side door. He doesn't pay any attention to someone walking by him. He waits, pops the green light with his plastic card and yanks the door open.

Strong guy. Big yank.

A little gust of air holds the door for an instant. I twist and push a pebble into place where the door jam meets the side walk.

I'm peeking through the slit of light. He's half way up the stairs. I push the door away and slip into a dark corner. A weak bang completes the door's job.