Paul Vargis
TyThe night began like most night’s do in this weird world. A horrible cup of black coffee, and many hours gone since sunshine vanished. The rain will start again soon, and I will still be sitting in this uncomfortable truck stop booth watching minivans, semis and motor homes going in and out. But here I sit, when a source calls saying they have a big story, a source you trust, this is what you do.
The redheaded waitress with sass was looking dragged out tired. “Hey Suze can I get a refill?” she laughs, too often she’s seen me sitting here. Drinking coffee, waiting for the next “sketchy” individual to come and speak with me. I scratch my beard, more salt than pepper now. The flip phone even my cell carrier mocks begins to vibrate as Suze fills up the chipped ceramic mug. It’s getting to the point in the waiting where I should start thinking of a burger or eggs.
“Lucas here.”
The voice muffler kicks in on the other end of the line. “They know.”
“Who knows?” it was an obvious question, but needed to be asked.
“They. They are coming for us.”
Okay this seemed strange even for my world. Now I got a muffled and digitally distorted voice on my phone going on about “They”. What the fuck are the They? How do strange things always track me down? The line suddenly cuts off and blasts white noise static. Flip closed, finger in ear to ring it out when the white suit appears and slides in across from me.
And it is truly a white suit, seer sucker, and flashy, pure white, like Herb Tarlic belt from WKRP white, with the matching shoes. Part of me is screaming that if this is the “sketchy” individual that is my source then I have stepped into a 700 Club world, and perhaps hell is real. White suit also has smooth white beard, trimmed short, piercing blue eyes and shoulder length white hair.
His hands are covered in white leather gloves as he waves Suze down and turns over his own coffee mug. “I assume the Voice reached you?”
“The Voice?” said like a name, it probably was the call I just received, but I don’t want to let on I know what this guy is talking about until he fills in a few more of the blanks.
“The Voice, disembodied, sounds digitally altered, it is literally a disembodied voice from the void. It can become solid in our world long enough to speak through old school cell phones, Smart Phones just blow up.” Suit says.
Bonus point for the guy with old school tech nobody else wants, I get to have a disembodied voice call me and warn me ominously about the coming of “They”. “Okay you explained the Voice flashy suit, and have insinuated I should trust it, but then that would mean I need to trust your statement, but I have no idea who you are.”
The man’s blue eyes become like intricately woven diamonds as they sparkle. Sucking one into the internal cosmos of the star dust that sparked each person’s soul and joined them to the all creator, and who metaphysical isms just keep leaping out. “Lucas, They are coming.”
Then the eyes go back to bright blue and I am once again having that uncomfortable spring in the left buttock’s from this bench booth. “Fine, but two questions: 1) who the hell are you? And 2) what the hell is “They”?”
Watch the eyes and the body language. Where is white suit taking this, my flip phone begins vibrating again. Number check, toll free probably some discount air liner announcing I have one a Bahama vacation. Ignore while white suit sips his bad diner coffee. “You Lucas, will discover They.” He rises and walks away. Great not exactly what I needed in this time and place some mysterious source acting like a Tulpa. So mysterious and yet leaving me with the bill. Move slowly from the table toss a ten on to cover, and follow him out calling after.
Step into the parking lot. No white suit, but a crack of lightning, roll of thunder and the skies open.
Great.
A flash of lightning. A bolt that hits the asphalt just before me. A form materializes in shimmering white suit. What the heck? “Suit?”
The sparkling diamond blue eyes lock back on me. “Lucas you seem to miss the point. They will not care about this pitiful world, or even you. They are here to destroy, rend.”
Another flash and white suit is gone. I am heading home.
The sun shone through the stain glass. Nice little loft bedroom built in what was a former balcony in an old church building. Yes I am strange in that I picked it up cheap on the bankruptcy market, and built an office for investigations out of it. Simple semantics, sanctuary converted to apartment, church office used for my office. That’s all the ancient building had going for it. Although the way the morning sun dances through the old stain glass gives a calming influence for re-entry from slumber.
Especially after last night.
Turn on the coffee pot in the kitchen, apartment area is open concept; click the radio on for the morning news. CBC is a national broadcaster that will update what is happening outside my front door or so the theory goes.
Some simple toast with fresh coffee black.
A Monk's Musings 