Travel Bug (36 page)

Dr. Clark Reilly was not someone who could be ignored any longer. He taught that if there was a problem in any country, it could almost always be attributed to the United States and its imperialistic foreign policy. He was a serious terror threat with connections all over the world. He was a threat to life and liberty and one with academic tenure. He was a radical who did not have to follow any rules. The money he probably sent overseas from hard working Americans used to blow up innocent civilians was probably considerable. It was, at the very least, not chump change. Luther parked his truck in student parking, keeping his superior in a cat carrying case for good measure. The professor taught night school and this time he was specifically directed to play it cool and avoid controversial public attention. Nightfall would come. The others he could get during the daylight because they were not so high profile as the author of many treasonous books praising mass murders who bowed at the altar of Marx.

He wasn’t at all surprised to see that nobody in town caught up to him yet. There was Wesley but he was a broken man without Smith. Calvin was a complete and total idiot as were the rest of the local law enforcement folk of their little town. He used to describe it as a sleepy town. Now he knew the truth, it was much more like a sleeper cell town. This professor pissed him off when he was still weeks away from the time he spent in that hellhole Iraq. He didn’t care if people were opposed to the war. Hell, he even played around with the idea that the whole thing was insane. He was sent by a president who never went to war himself but that was the great baby boom generation for you. It was the disrespect and the sheer madness of people like Reilly. He called them, the brave vets Nazis. They never put people into concentration camps or anything that even came close to that. He defended his life in order to stay alive and tried to get through the day. That’s all.

“Yes, I know, they soon grew to respect my talent.”

He patted Moose’s head and looked deep into those bright yellow eyes.

“I’m a killing machine, I know it. I only murder evil, the ones who have it coming and probably damn well know it.”

The cat licked his hand with that good old sandpaper tongue that felines are well known for.

“Yes. I understand.”

His orders were clear and he heard nothing further from the animal inside of his head. Now he was just a cat. Moose was like that every now and then. The computer must need a rest every now and then. Well, perhaps the people communicating to the animal need a break. It’s only human to need some sleep.

“Rest easy, sorry you have to be confined in that stupid thing,” he said earnestly.

Then a terrible thought entered his head. It was awful to the core because it was filled to the brim with a merciless truth. What if Thomas managed to escape from the hospital that he was in? Now he made himself relax. He forced himself to calm down and let the tension escape. Surely this was an unlikely scenario. It was, of course, also unlikely that he escaped the first time when he was supposed to be put to death. Then he killed more people by cutting their stomachs open and got off. He was found not guilty by reason of insanity and then a lighter sentence due to a technicality. Surely a man who could achieve these dark accomplishments could escape once more. Growing up with an odd family couldn’t hold a candle to Thomas’s fiendish clan. The boy was destined to be abused and perhaps not so much inclines as predestined to grow up to be a monster. Luther ordinarily didn’t buy this bullshit about the sad childhood justifying evil but in Thomas’s case, he made an exception. He kind of had to; he was after all, his neighbor. They boy was terrible and afraid. The man could do anything he wanted to do. He was free, in the worst and most dreadful sense of the word.

“I’m probably worrying for nothing,” he said.

Moose rubbed up against his hand.

Then he thought about it some more. Thomas was not to be underestimated. He could come back to try and stop him from his work. He loved chaos, instead of the order that law provided. Thomas lived for things to go wrong. Luther’s every thought and deed was filled with a desire for true justice. They were neighbors but fate made them polar opposites. Luther killed the guilty but Thomas killed both guilty and the innocents were collateral damage. He hated the religious ideas that people used to explain what was wrong with the world. Thomas equally hated the arrogant philosophical certitude that atheists had, which he always thought mirrored those of the blindly faithful.

“We will wait a while but you know that. You gave the orders.”

He laughed at the cat for a moment. He was wondering if the cat was just sort of possessed now and then became super intelligent. It was obviously not a permanent transformation or things would have been different with its behavior. Now he seemed like that old silly friend Moose that played games and loved to mess up his litter. The switch was somewhat confusing but then again so was killing small town folk that he had known his entire life. A soldier, the only true citizen, deals with these kinds of complications in life.

“Wait here, I’m going to look around for a while, Moose.”

Luther left the cat for a little while. He needed to get a good look at the campus and try to focus his thoughts. He was going to assassinate a popular left wing icon with ties to those who celebrated the deaths of three thousand Americans in 2001. That didn’t change the fact that he was walking around a lovely campus. This was a fine institution.

“Can I help you?” asked the librarian.

“Sure.”

“What would you like to see?”

“A certain book by a godless lover of all things capitalism, who actually used to live under totalitarianism, you must know her name.”

“No.”

“Too bad, she was a genius.”

“Oh, really, a genius she was?”

“What made her a genius?”

“There is a mirror that reflects humanity and she made it work for her.”

“What mirror was that?” she asked.

“The one that can only reflect the truth instead of self-deception, you know the lies we tell ourselves every single day.”

“Alright,” answered the librarian.”

“Her initials were A. R…”

“I’ll check it for you.”

He was actually looking forward to reading a good book before he killed West and anyone who would dare get in his way. Missions were not negotiable or close calls. Success or failure was the only ways to categorize them. He was beginning to wonder why the librarian was taking so damn long. Luther didn’t ask her anything too complex. There was no advance research into the theory of relativity or theoretical mathematics. This was just a woman who wrote about the great virtues of free enterprise who lived under Hitler and totalitarian Marxism.

“Sorry…”

“What?”

If this intuition which was appearing not to be son fine now didn’t have this book, he might abandon his mission and just kill the librarian instead. This was no piece of crap from a hack; this was a great intellectual classic that made one value being an American. If they had bookshelves full of pro “people’s revolution” books but lacked this one masterpiece, Luther thought he might lose all control.

“We only had one copy and that was just taken out by a business major about an hour ago. I’m sorry. I could hold it for you when he returns it.”

“No, thank you.”

“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.”

“Wait, she had other books. She wrote at least four or five.”

“Sorry, that’s the only one we carry.”

“Alright…”

Luther walked away while he could still maintain himself in a dignified manner. He was literally moments away from going postal on this commie library. Frustrated beyond words, even words than could be found here, he took a good look around. Luther wanted to know what kids were being taught these days. Luther had plenty of college credits and he really could have gotten a degree if he had been less involved in his other work.

“Can I help you with anything else, I feel just terrible,” the librarian said, following behind him. She smiled up at him and he grimaced back.

“No……”

“Please……”

She was an older woman, but not quite sixty. She was either having a maternal instinct or she was hitting on him. He didn’t know which it was but he wasn’t sure he wanted her company prior to performing the serious task at hand.

“Okay, what do you recommend?”

“Sir, this is one of the finest libraries around. I can recommend quite a bit,” she said, her tone flirting with sarcasm.

“Okay.”

“That short haircut of yours, you know, I was wondering……”

“Yes.”

“I knew it. You are a veteran.”

“Yes,” Luther answered her.

“So was my son.”

“Oh.”

“He fought in Afghanistan, how about you?”

“Iraq.”

“Well, I’m very proud of men like you and my son, fighting that terrible enemy and protecting us from evil doers.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, that’s why I’m going out of my way to help you. They don’t pay me half enough to be this helpful to folks.”

Luther laughed, he didn’t want to but he did, despite himself.

“Well, you tell your son that we’re very proud of the men who fought in that country as well.”

“I wish that I could tell… him…” she couldn’t finish her sentence.

“Oh…”

“I… I…”

Luther knew quicker than a cheetah that her son was dead and buried.

“Ma’am, I’m very sorry… I did not mean to offend you, honestly. I would never do that. I’m truly sorry.”

“For goodness sake, I know you of all people never meant to offend me. I’m sure your mother was happy beyond belief to know that you came home alive.”

“Well…”

“What?”

“You see my parents…”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I just assumed a young man like you…”

“That’s fine.”

“No, really, I am. I’m sorry.”

“I know you are.”

“I don’t think two people have ever worried about hurting each other’s feelings in a library more in American history.”

“You may be right, young man,” she said.

Now he regretted his playful anger. He had fantasized about killing this nice lady. Why? Because the library didn’t have the first choice in a book he wanted to read? Now he was sounding like the spoiled brats who come here with mom and dad’s money to learn how to hate their country. No. He didn’t want to think that way. Luther needed to explore this fine educational institution a little more before making harsh generalities. If a fine woman like this worked here, a lady who lost her son and still spoke highly of the war that took his life, well, no need to be prejudiced about this library’s books.

“Well, I can tell that you are a great person and I like you already,” said Luther.

“I wish that I had a daughter to set you up with but Michael was my only child.”

“I don’t even know your name and this has been one of the most intimate, disturbing and wonderful conversations of my life.”

“Luther Knox.”

“Jennifer Joyce.”

“I am very pleased to meet you, ma’am.”

“Thank you.”

“You are quite welcome.”

The love that Luther felt at times seriously rivaled the hate he felt for the enemies of freedom and the sadistic religious fanatics he fought overseas. This woman, this goddess selected, no, chose to be a great person of faith and liberty. No one put a gun to her head.

“I have to ask…”

“No.”

“Sorry,” answered Luther.

“He died of a heart attack, many, many years before my baby, my Michael died in combat. It was truly tragic but I like to think that my family, our clan, always stood for something more than mediocrity. I always liked to think that my son’s blood watered the tree of liberty that Jefferson so eloquently wrote about.”

“Oh.”

“We’re not royalty, we’re just common folk but I think bravery makes even the most average family into extraordinary heroes.”

“Wow!”

“Sorry, don’t mean to be preachy…”

“You’re just an extraordinary woman. Show me the patriotic books.”

Now he was coming down to the nitty-gritty. What did this library have to offer to true patriots who were willing to give their lives for justice and freedom?

“You know, all the schools seem to be rather left of center.”

“Yes.”

“I was hoping for a different point of view.”

“I know,” said Jennifer.

“Well, I know this school has a good reputation for a superb education.”

“Luther, you want to know why there is such a hate America first attitude.”

“Exactly, Jennifer, that’s what I want to know.”

“Well, there isn’t such a thing at all, it’s all an illusion.”

“What?” Luther asked.

“America is a whole lot bigger than just folks on the right side of the spectrum. I mean everyone from the libertarians in favor of gay marriage and legalizing drugs to the religious right who want a theocracy.”

“Oh,” he said stunned.

“America let’s all points of view get expressed.”

“Then why the fuck is the woman who loves capitalism censored by limiting her best seller to only one book in your P.C. library?”

She was stunned.

“Why?”

“Well…”

“Fuck you, you don’t know,” he screamed at her.

He ran away from her. He hated her because he damned near loved her. She reminded him of a very influential woman in his life a little bit too much for comfort. It hit way too close to home. Ethel was dead and not because of him, simply because she chose the terrorist side to avenge her family.

“I can’t believe you would talk to me like that.”

“I’m sorry but…”

“Sorry, nothing,” said the outraged librarian.

“The left is really starting to piss me off.”

“Funny, the right pisses the left off,” she answered him.

“I see.”

“You see nothing, my courageous but ignorant new friend,” said the librarian.

“I fought and could have died.”

“I know.”

“Your son, madam, did not die for left wing bullshit, he died for real freedom.”

“I know.”

“Really, you do know?”

“Yes.”