All Living : A Seedvision Saga (9781621473923) (26 page)

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Al, please, slow down a minute. The lightmen? What the hell is a light man?”

Al looked around the restaurant. It was empty except for the waiter and a cook behind the counter.

“Let’s get out of here, Les. Go back to your place. I want to see this window,” he looked down at their empty plates, “I got this.” Al fished his wallet out of his back pocket and put two twenties down on the table.

“Oh…kay,” said Lester, then drained his glass of cranberry juice.

They gathered up their stuff and went outside. Lester looked down at the ledge below the window for his cigarette, but it was gone.

“What the…?”

He looked on the cement, back and forth. Then he spotted it. The wind had blown his miracle cig off the window frame’s sill and rolled it down the sidewalk. It had stuck between the joint of two square slabs of concrete. Unfortunately, the crevice was still filled with water from last night’s rain, and the cigarette had gone out.

“Oh no,” said Lester as he picked up the soggy paper and tobacco tube. It broke in half and left him holding nothing but a short waterlogged butt.

Al looked at him and shrugged. “Easy come, easy go.”

“No. No way. I had that thing sheltered man. I had it wedged. How in the world could the wind have…can you make me another one, Al? Please.”

“Sorry, Les, one miracle cigarette per household.”

“Come on, man. You could do it in a heartbeat.”

“I can only do what God allows me to do, Les. And I doubt that he’ll allow me to do that again, especially since it’s time now for the second part of the miracle to kick in.”

“The second part? What’s that?”

“You just quit smoking.”

“What? Oh, I see. You think all that mumbo jumbo last night about me not liking cigarettes anymore is gonna’ work on me? Don’t hold your breath, man. I’m a smoker. I smoke. That’s what I do. I’ve been smoking for thirty-five years. There’s no way I’d quit cold turkey, even if I wanted to. Which I don’t.”

“Come on. Let’s go back to your place. I’ll drive.”

“Yeah, I’ve got a pack of cigarettes there,” said Lester, walking toward the car. “Shotgun.”

“Someone was definitely prowling around outside your window last night,” said Al. “The mud behind the bushes is a soupy mess from all the rain, but there are definitely some partial prints in the mulch. I did find this,” said Al, holding out a sopping wet one dollar bill.

“That’s weird,” said Lester.

“Maybe not so much.”

When Lester and Al had gotten back to Lester’s house, Al had gone straight to the window outside of Lester’s living room while Lester himself had gone directly inside. After a minute or two of scrounging around through the pockets of his coats hanging in the closet, Lester had finally found what he was looking for, a crumpled up pack of cigarettes with three or four smokes left. He was just pulling one out of the box when Al walked in and made his announcement. Seeing Lester, Al sighed.

“Still going to try it, eh?”

“Huh?” replied Lester, pausing with the cigarette halfway to his mouth.

“Smokers, male and female, inject and excuse idleness in their lives every time they light a cigarette.”

“Yeah, I’m familiar with Collette,” said Lester, “but this is not idleness. I don’t stop what I’m doing to have a smoke. I can have one while driving, while reading the paper, while washing the dishes, or cleaning the garage. I can even have one while I relax. It’s not promoting idleness, it just makes idleness more enjoyable.”

“It’s not going to anymore, Lester.”

“Yeah, right,” said Lester, through his lips, the cigarette held steadily between them while he shielded his lighter from a nonexistent wind. The end caught and flared up red as Lester took a deep, gratifying pull, and then coughed. His eyes got big, and he yanked the cigarette out of his mouth with the two fingers on his right hand.

“What did you do?” he choked, coughing and gagging, then turning to spit several times into the sink. He turned on the cold water and rinsed his mouth out twice, three times. His eyes were watering and he was hacking like he’d just swallowed a bug.

Al stood watching.

“That tasted terrible,” said Lester, spitting into the sink once more, “like I just burped up all my stomach acid.” He got a small juice glass out of the cabinet and poured himself a shot of milk, drinking it with one gulp.

“Ugh, like a bad case of heartburn.”

“Sorry, Les,” said Al. “I knew it would probably be bad, but I had no idea in what way. I’m just glad you didn’t have an allergic reaction, you know, your lips swelling up, your tongue turning purple.”

“Yeah. Maybe a fresh pack won’t taste so bad.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” replied Al.

“Seriously?” asked Lester, his face taking on the lost expression of a little boy whose kite just got caught in a tree.

“Seriously.”

“Well, damn,” said Lester.

“Les!”

“I know. I know. Sorry, I just thought I’d be able to beat it.”

“Beat it? You mean use your mind over matter to beat a miracle.”

“Lousy miracle, if I do say so myself,” said Lester.

“Are you kidding me? It’s an awesome miracle. I can’t have you dying of lung cancer before I’m able to tell you my whole story, now can I? Can’t have you calling in sick to work when there are kids out there who still need your wisdom to navigate through this world’s vile values.”

“What kids?”

“Never mind, Lester, listen to me. There is more here than meets the eye. So cigarettes are going to leave a bad taste in your mouth, literally. God has not only helped you to quit smoking, he has cleaned out your lungs. I can hear them, rejoicing in their purity. You now have lungs like a newborn baby, fresh and clean and ready to run a marathon.”

“I do feel surprisingly good, barring the taste in my throat and the feeling of heartburn in my chest,” said Lester, taking a huge indrawn breath deep into his lungs. “Almost like I haven’t really breathed in years.”

“Yes.”

“And I really did always hate thinking about how much money I was wasting on those things. A pack a day, every day for a week was at least twenty-five bucks. That’s a hundred dollars a month, twelve hundred a year.”

“You could buy a better car. Take a vacation. Donate to charity.”

“I could record an album.”

“Yeah, you could…what?”

“I’ve always wanted to have a CD of myself. Just something that I did that I could see up on my shelf, that I could pop in and listen to whenever I liked.”

“I didn’t think you played any instruments.”

“Nah, just a little guitar, but I could sing.”

“Well, yeah, and now that you’re not smoking your singing voice might even sound good.”

“Nice.”

“I’m just saying, think of all the benefits of this. It’s a good thing. Your life just took a turn for the better.”

“Okay, okay. Maybe it did. At least as far as my lungs are concerned. But what about this new development, eh? People peeking in my window?”

“Uh, yeah, look we need to talk. Why don’t we sit down? There’s something I need to tell you.”

Lester poured himself a little more milk and pulled out a chair at the kitchen table. Al did the same.

“Look, I wasn’t sure this would even need to come up, but apparently it does. I’ve had my suspicions for a while now that someone has been shadowing me.”

What do you mean, shadowing you?”

“You know, following me, spying on me.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously. Seriously bad people.”

“The Lightmen?”

“That’s right. The Lightmen.”

“Who are they?”

“Well, I don’t know specifically,” said Al, “ but I suspect it’s a very well-financed group of individuals that somehow have deduced by whatever means are at their disposal that I am not just your average Joe Schmoe working a nine to five job and coming home to watch football and eat TV dinners.”

“They know about your…age?”

“Maybe. Probably not. But they suspect something, I’m sure. It’s just impossible to know if I’ve left any loose ends. You know, I’ve owned some of my properties for over a century. I try you know, to leave myself properties in wills, to invent pseudonyms for making purchases, to have death certificates drawn up for those names. But it’s hard to get social security numbers for imaginary people. Well, not too hard if you have the money, but there’s something else I have that makes it difficult.”

“What’s that?” interrupted Lester.

“A conscience. It’s not right to lie and I don’t want to do it. I feel like I’ve justified way more than I should have just to try to keep the government from thinking they smell a rat.”

“You think the Lightmen are government?”

“Not our government. Not any country’s government. They are a government unto themselves. They are wealthier than any one country. They are connected, powerful. And they have always wanted what they don’t have. Since before the great flood they have sought it, and they continue to pursue it. They want what they suspect that I have.”

“What?” Lester’s eyes were wide and his voice barely a whisper.

“Life,” Al forced the word between his teeth so vehemently that it made Lester edgy. “They think I have the secret to eternal life. They think I’ve found the philosopher’s stone and know the recipe for the elixir of life. They believe I know the location for the fountain of youth. Or maybe they incorrectly presume that I can somehow get them back into the garden to the original tree of life. I don’t know, but these people will stop at nothing once they suspect there might be information leading them in that direction.

“I have had to be careful for years, extremely so, to maintain a low-key lifestyle. But I have obviously not been cautious enough. They’ve picked up my trail, and now they are sniffing around like hounds on the scent of a fox. They must know that we are friends, and now they have you under surveillance as well. I’ve placed you in jeopardy, my friend. I am sorry.”

“Look, Al, I’m not worried about these whack-jobs spying on me.”

“You should be, Les. They’re dangerous people.”

“Maybe so, Al, but you’re my family. I’ve got no one else. I’m so honored that you’ve entrusted me with your secrets, with your life story. I’ll protect it with my life. I’m not afraid of a bunch of creepy crackpots and neurotic nut balls.”

“Try well-heeled hitmen,” quipped Al.

“Or snazzy psychos?” added Lester.

“Opulent bedlamites.”

“Nice,” said Lester, “but enough witty repartee. Do you really think I should be worried?”

“It never hurts to be a little paranoid when you discover someone has been peeking in your window.”

“What if they planted a bug? What if they’re listening to us right now?”

“They’re not.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I’m sure. If there was a bug or some kind of signaling device I’d know it. I checked when I came in.”

“You did? When? How?”

“Well, you know. With my…”

“
Seedvision
?”

“For lack of a better term, although it’s really more audible than visible.”

“You can still do that?”

Al hesitated with a smile. “Um…yes.”

“That is so wild.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

“So, what do we do now?” asked Lester.

“We should just continue doing what we would naturally do under normal circumstances.”

“So you’re saying you want me to pick my nose?”

“Cute. No, let’s just sit here and talk for a bit. You have questions and I’m eager to know what you thought about what you read last night. I’ve never gotten to enjoy someone else’s reactions to my life story, you know.”

“That’s it? There’s nothing else we can do? Just sit here like bait and wait for birds to pick our bones clean?”

“Well, that’s a little melodramatic, don’t you think? All right, if it will make you feel better, I’m planning to contact a couple of guys who work for me. Ask them to check out a few things. I’ve got most of my affairs in order, since I’m leaving on my trip next week and am not sure when I’ll be back. There are a couple of things I’m hoping you’ll do for me also while I’m gone, but we can talk about that later.”

“You’re really leaving next week?”

“Yeah, I am. I have to. But who knows, we may see each other again.”

“Wait, you mean there’s a chance we won’t see each other again? I thought this was just a temporary move.”

“True, but I don’t know how temporary. And you know as well as I do that anything can happen. Jerusalem and the Middle East are unstable environments right now, plenty of opportunities to hug a suicide bomber.”

“Yeah, or kiss a bullet.”

“Well, God will protect me if he has a job for me to accomplish. In the meantime, I’m going to leave you my journals, so you can keep reading them while I’m gone. If you’d like.”

“Are you kidding? Of course I’d like. I’d really like. I couldn’t put that notebook down last night. It was nearly four in the morning when I finished it and I wished I had another one to dive into. I can’t wait to read about how your confrontation went with Cain.”

“Not good, I’m afraid.”

“Well, I can imagine, after everything that was said between you and his son.”