Volume One: The Road Out
Chapter Two
Verse Seven: The Call Knows Where You Live
Harley and Marion sat eating take out Chinese food when Harley's phone began to ring. Harley answered the phone, "Hello, this is Harley. I can here you."
The voice on the line sounded as though it belonged to a boy, a young teenager probably, "Is this the Walker? Because we need your help to escape the city. Please listen."
"The Walker?" Marion said, his brow furrowing.
"That's you!" Marion exclaimed, "You're the Walker. It's from my visions. You're the Walker and I'm the Dreamer."
Harley spoke into the phone, "How did you get this number? Who is this?"
"The Witch Doctor gave it to us. Because he said you would help us. Please help us. Our father is hunting us, his men are tracking us. We need your help."
Harley was about to answer, when Marion's phone rang. Marion answered his phone, " Hello?"
A male voice answered, "This is Agent White. You are to turn over the Salt children immediately. Do you understand?"
"You mean as in Darius Salt? The rich guy? We don't have his kids. I only just heard about the kidnapping from the news."
"You will find that feigning ignorance does not impede us. We will retrieve the children. If you do not comply and turn over Maia and Fitzroy Salt immediately the result will be the total destruction of your lives."
"We don't have the kids!" Marion said desperately.
"What do you mean your father's men are looking for you? Isn't that a good thing?" Harley asked.
Harley was struggling to hear what the boy was saying and also listen to Marion's conversation, when a young girl's voice broke in over the boy's voice on the phone line, "Something is really wrong and my dad isn't really who he's supposed to be and he's bigger than what he is here and he has layers and he's trapped by choices and stuff he's making in the other layers and he's bigger on the inside. And we have to escape otherwise everything is going to get lost again and we all have to start all over. Please help us."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Harley said, "Maybe you should speak to Marion. Isn't he the Dreamer? Maybe he'd understand better?"
"Agent White, please we don't have any children. We have nothing we can give you." Marion said.
"It is always the Storyteller who assists the rebel children in their escape. The children have escaped. Therefore, the children must be with you. This is not complicated. Your role is well known and you cannot hide from us as a result. We know what you must do. We know the course you will follow. You cannot escape us. We will find the children and if you do not cooperate, we will destroy you as we have many times in the past." And abruptly the line went dead. Marion stared at the phone in shock. Harley turned to Marion.
"Here," Harley said, "Marion's off the phone. I'll give you to him."
"Oh no, they're here. Maia run!" And the line went dead.
Marion and Harley alternated between staring at their phones and then staring at each other. They didn't say anything for a long time. Finally Marion spoke.
"It's not a tumour. They're not hallucinations. It's much much worse than that."
"Yes, it is." Harley agreed.
Harley tried to call the number back twice, but only received a generic answering machine message.
"so what do we do?" Marion asked, "Whatever this is, it's not leaving us alone."
"Whatever this is, it isn't telling us any useful information that we can act upon either."
"I can show you what I've puzzled out," Marion offered, picking up his notes and sketches from the previous day when he was procrastinating against looking for work.
Harley raised an eyebrow and then nodded, "Alright, I'm listening. talk to me. If nothing else, let's get onto the same page."
Marion began by walking Harley through his visions again. Then he moved onto to pointing out the recurring characters and themes and conversations. From their Marion went on to explain his guesses as to who was on their side and who wasn't and who was or might be a good guy or a bad guy and how he thought different groups might be connected. By the time Marion had brought Harley up to speed and answered his questions, a few hours had passed.
"Well," Harley said cautiously, "It all sounds like its connected some how. I can hear matching themes and bits that kind of rhyme with each other. But some stuff seems really weird and out of place, like the secret agent guys. Most of the symbols have an old world ancient archetype feel to them, how do generic government agent looking guys fit into that?"
"Maybe they're a modern take on an old symbol? I don't know." Marion answered, he opened his mouth to say more and was interrupted by a knock at the door, sharp and brisk. Both boys looked up in surprise.
"Harley Night. We know this residence is occupied. Open the door." A voice said through the timber panels of the door.
Harley answered the knock at the door and found himself staring at five pairs of sun glasses and five business suits. The lead pair of sunglasses and business suit flashed an ID.
"Special Agent Bridger. We are investigating the kidnapping of Maia and Fitzroy Salt. A cell phone owned by Darius Salt and registered to his son Fitzroy was used to call a cell phone registered to Harley Knight. Are you Harley Knight?"
"Yes, I am. What can I do for you?"
As Harley answered, Special Agent Bridger pushed his way in followed immediately by the other for pairs of sunglasses. Harley looked down in surprise as Special Agent Bridger muscled past him into the room. Harley's carefully composed expression of reasonable concern shifted slightly, his brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed slightly. Marion noticed his friend's lips thin into a slightly harder line. Harley was subtly clenching his teeth.
"I didn't give your permission to come in." Harley said, very slowly, "I'm pretty sure you have to have a warrant to do that."
Special Agent Bridger didn't look at Harley, "Mr. Knight, Sit down. This is very serious."
"Serious enough to break the rules, I guess?" Harley said. Marion noticed that Harley was still holding the door handle, and that his knuckles were white from how tightly he was clenching his fist around the door handle.
"The joke isn't funny Mr. Knight. What was the phone call regarding?"
"It really isn't, but since you aren't listening, I guess I can tell the men breaking and entering into my house about an anonymous phone call I received. Why not?" Harley said, finally closing the door and releasing the handle, "I got a call from two kids, they didn't give their names. Sounded like a teenaged boy and a younger girl. They asked for my help. Said something was wrong with their father. And then they said that somebody had found them and hung up as they yelled at each other to run. I tried to call the number back and got no answer."
"Why didn't you report this?"
"Report what? A crank call? Why would I report that?" Harley raised his eyebrow and gave the agent a decidedly unfriendly look.
"We're going to need your cell phone, Mr. Knight." Special Agent Bridger held out his hand, but still didn't turn to look at Harley.
"Do you have a warrant for that," Harley was speaking so slowly that each word was its own sentence, "Or do you plan to steal it while you're breaking and entering?"
"You don't seem to understand the gravity of your situation, Mr. Knight."
Harley's face clenched sharply. And when he spoke this time, he spoke very quickly with a tone so sharp Marion felt like the words might cut him, "I understand that life has been kicking me and my best friend in the head for the last few days. And I understand that if you really are employees of the government that you have to follow certain rules in order for any of this to be legal. The world has been pushing me around and pushing my friend around, and I've really had enough. I try to be nice and reasonable. But you guys aren't giving me the nice and reasonable vibe. They seemed like nice kids on the phone. I am happy to help, but not without you guys going through the proper channels. Because right now you guys seem less like honest civil servants and more like the agents from 'The Matrix'."
Special Agent Bridger was silent for a moment, and then turned to one of the other pairs of sunglasses, "Go talk to the resident upstairs." he turned back to Harley, "We'll be back in touch Mr. Night, with a warrant. Don't delete anything on that phone. That would be tampering with federal evidence."
The business suits in sunglasses stood up and headed out the door, although they didn't close it as they left. Harley closed the door and turned back to Marion.
“They didn't seem to know about the phone call you received.” Harley said to Marion, who nodded in response.
Upstairs, Marion and Harley could hear the suits knocking on Mrs. Critchwood's door and bits and pieces of the discussion that followed, mostly the high pitched shrieks of outrage from Mrs. Critchwood.
After a minutes the screeching ceased, but this was followed by the sound of stomping footsteps and another round of sharp knocking at the door. Harley answered the door to Mrs. Critchwood in housecoat and curlers and full fury like a wet cat trapped in a dishwasher.
"Do you know who interrupted my soap operas?" She howled, "The FBI, that's who. What have you boys been doing to bring the FBI down on your blasphemous heretic heads?"
"Did they say that they were the FBI?" Marion asked. "Because they didn't say that to us."
"Who else would they be you fool? What they want? I will not be harbouring fugitives."
"Those rich kids that were in the news because they got kidnapped. the kids called my cell phone looking for help. Probably dialled it randomly hoping to find anybody who could help. They hung up before they could give any information. The investigators wanted to know about that."
"Why would they call you? What have you been doing wrong?"
"As I just said, if you'd listen, I assume that they dialled it randomly. They ended the call by telling each other to run and that somebody has found them. So I assumed they were desperately dialling any number they could."
"Then why was the FBI there so quickly? Were you already on there watch list? Are you a terrorist?"
"Mrs. Critchwood. The call was placed on a cell phone. I answered with a cell phone. Cell phones are incredibly easy to trace. That is why they were there so quickly. Further they were monitoring the cell phone the children used because it was their father's phone."
"I don't like this. You'd better be on guard. And wait a minute, why is he still here? He was here the day before." Mrs. Critchwood jabbed a shrivelled bony finger at Marion.
"He's my best friend. So there is that. He also got robbed, and lost his job. He needs to use my printer so he can print off resumes. Yeah . He'll be over regularly well he's printing off resumes. I am allowed to have guests Mrs. Critchwood."
"I don't trust you Night. You're hiding something. I'll be watching you, like a vulture watches a dying horse. I have church bridge club to go to and I'm not letting you ruin that. But I'll be talking to you tomorrow. I'm thinking I may need to start looking for a tenant who can follow the rules and obey the laws. If you understand my meaning."
"Have fun at your bridge game Mrs. Critchwood." Harley said and abruptly closed the door in his landlady's face.
Marion stared at the closed door in shock. Mrs. Critchwood knocked loudly, but then stopped. Marion guessed that she was as bewildered by Harley's actions as Marion was.
"This stupid story of yours." Harley said angrily, the rage in his voice causing Marion to step back in surprise.
"It's not my story. I didn't ask for it. The damn thing is happening to me. It's not my fault."
"No, it isn't. But, whatever it is, has taken away our lives, piece by piece. It didn't matter how careful I was, it just took everything. It wants us to be something else and so it's stripping away everything that isn't that or would let us avoid being what it wants us to be. This story has ruined our lives, and we have no idea what kind of a life its offering in place of the lives it took."
"Harley? Something kind of weird to think about, but our lives sucked before this too. My job was already on thin ice and it was a crummy job on top of that. I bounce from job to job and can't hold it together. How is that a life? My landlord and your landlady, they already hated us before this. Anything going wrong could have tipped our housing into worst case scenario. You've kept your job, where I haven't, but you hate your job. It sucks your soul and numbs your mind. I mean when you get down to it, whatever this is, it didn't have to do much to break our lives. Our lives were already filled with hairline cracks, all this thing had to do was gently tap them in order to shatter our lives."
"But why? What does it want? Okay, our lives weren't ideal. We didn't like our jobs and our rental situations were shaky. But I've lost Amy, and what kind of crazy thing are we getting tangled into with those kids now? How is this better? How is this at all better?"
"I didn't say it was better. I just said, we weren't fine before this happened."
"So what? Why would that matter?"
"Maybe this story didn't want us at all. maybe it just needed people who weren't doing something important with their lives?"
"So we're what? The guys who were available? 'Legendary heroes wanted: Must not be using their lives well already?' Is that the idea? So we were just the most pathetic people they found who fit the profile, is that it?"
"Maybe we were just in the wrong place at the right time?"
"Wonderful. Music to my ears, except that music is free jazz."
"I like free jazz."
"Of course you do." Harley said.
"Who are you, and what have you done with Harley?" Marion asked as Harley turned away from the door.
"I have put nice Harley in a nice little box. He'll be there when I need him." Harley didn't look at Marion, wouldn't meet his eyes.
Marion shook his head, "How often does nice Harley go in that box?"
"Not very often. I don't like doing it. But I am very tired of listening to the world tell us that it's going to kick us and we're going to like it. I don't like being angry, people make mistakes when they're angry, people burn bridges and hurt friendships and ruin marriages and make their children cry when they're angry."
"Your parents aren't bad people Harley."
"No, they aren't. They just weren't able to stay reasonable, they got angry and they let it control them. I refuse to make that mistake. But sometimes nice Harley isn't enough, and so nice Harley goes in a box. It isn't fun. I don't like how I sound when I'm angry. But it's done now and for the time being I get to be reasonable nice Harley again."
"Are you okay?"
"I'm tired, and I am going to bed and unless the world ends at midnight I am not dealing with anything else until morning."
* * *
Harley awoke to the sound of his cell phone ringing. He pulled himself awake and answered the phone.
"This is Harley, I can hear you."
"Harley, how are you feeling?" The voice on the other end of the phone said.
"Dwight? What time is it? Why are you calling? Are you still at the office?"
"Hey, funny thing. They have me shredding documents non stop. I haven't been home. I think there's some sort of legal trouble coming, so maybe getting downsized wasn't so bad, am I right? But that's not why I'm calling. So, hey, Harley there are some guys are your old desk. Like in suits and dark glasses and with scary federal looking ID cards and that's never a good thing, am I right?"
"At my desk? What. Now? What time is it?"
"Yeah, right now, it's a little after three. They came in about twenty minutes ago, this was the first time I could slip away without looking weird, or yeah, I would have called you sooner. I mean if I thought this was legit, I wouldn't be calling you, but I can't imagine it being legit, because you are like the most stand up guy I know, am I right? So I looked a little closer and these guys were not legit, and hey that's bad. I mean, they might be legit as in real government agents, you know, but what they are doing is definitely not legit. We're talking 'Three Days of the Condor' stuff here, am I right?"
"The Robert Redford movie? Where he gets framed for uncovering the government's own dirty work by mistake? Wait, Dwight, what are you talking about, you aren't making sense."
"Harley, government agents are going through your old desk right now and they are putting stuff in it. I mean, I think they are planting evidence. I don't know what they are doing, but this just screams of a frame up job, am I right?"
Harley froze and didn't know how to answer. A frame up. His mind cast back to Agent White's conversation, and back to the phone call with the kids: Maia and Fitzroy. He tried to make his brain drag up the things Harley had been saying about Darius Salt and the reward and Marion's dreams. This could all be a mistake. But Harley didn't play risky and the mental calculus of practicality and risk management that Harley's brain performed effortlessly told his conscious mind that the current trouble he and Marion were in had passed the point where business as usual would work. Dramatic action now seemed the only advisable course.
"Thanks Dwight. Clear your call history after you hang up. I don't want you getting in trouble for this."
"Hey, you're a good guy, and good guys deserve to be helped. Am I right?"
"I hope so Dwight"
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