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“Sorry, Vic, I was on the toilet with the door closed. ”
Vic looked up at him for a moment and the anger gradually turned to a nasty smirk. “Yeah, that figures…I always figured you were full of shit. Well, get your ass down here and have your breakfast. I don’t want to hear about you being late for school. ”
“Yes, sir. ”
“You have papers after school?”
“Yes, sir. ”
“Well, get them done and get home. Don’t be late. ” He leaned on those last three words.
“I won’t. ”
Vic gave him a last perfunctory glare and marched off. Relieved, Mike sagged back against his door frame, exhaling the stale air that was pent up in his chest.
Downstairs he heard Vic yelling something at Mike’s mother, and then the door slamming as he left for work. Vic was the chief mechanic at Shanahan’s Garage in town and he was never later for work even though it didn’t matter what time he got there. Like most people, Shanahan was afraid of Vic and wouldn’t have dared risk pissing him off any more than Mike would.
“Eat shit and die,” Mike whispered to the closed door downstairs.
“Honey?” his mother’s voice called. It wasn’t seven o’clock yet and she already sounded half in the bag. Or maybe she hadn’t sobered up from last night. “Breakfast is on the table. ”
“Yeah, I’m coming. ” Breakfast would be a box of cereal and some orange juice. Mike went and sat down on the edge of the bed, fingers knotted together, shoulders hunched, staring at the patterns of sunlight on the gray indoor-?outdoor carpet on his floor. He tried to remember his dream—something about a bridge—but it was gone. “Just another day,” he said aloud. He said it nearly every morning, usually in the same way, with the same total lack of enthusiasm.
This time, however, he was wrong.
5
Tow-?Truck Eddie always started his day on his knees. As soon as he got out of bed, even if he had to go to the bathroom, he first dropped onto his knees, right on the cold wood floor, and prayed. He had a number of required prayers he had to say before he could start speaking directly to God, and he recited the Lord’s Prayer precisely fourteen times, which was twice seven—the number of God that was superior to six, the number of the Beast—and then said a rosary, a dozen Hail Marys. He crossed himself seven times, and then laid his head on the floor, his heavy brow pressed against the floorboards, until he heard the voice of God in his head.
Sometimes it would take an hour or more before God spoke to him, and by then his bladder would be screaming at him, but lately—just in the last few weeks—God spoke to him more quickly. Tow-?Truck Eddie knew that this was a very good sign, and he suspected that it meant that God would soon be revealing his Holy Mission to him.
This morning his head had barely touched the cool wood when God’s voice thundered in his brain.
Today, my child! it said. The Voice of God was almost too loud to bear and Eddie’s head rang with it.
“Yes, my Lord. I am thy instrument. Command me to the holy purpose. ”
You are my faithful servant, God said, and you are my holy instrument on earth. Do you know this?
“Yes, my Lord. ”
You are the enemy of the Beast. Do you know this?
“Yes, my Lord. ”
You are the Hand of Righteousness. Do you know this?
“Yes, my Lord. ”
You are the Sword of God. Do you know this?
“Oh, yes, my Lord!”
When the Hand of Righteousness beholds the Beast, what is thy holy purpose?
“To destroy him, my Lord! I am the servant of God!”
And if the Beast should take another form?
