The Nothing (17 page)

While Martha was riding the elevator to the twenty- fifth floor, she wondered if her home phone was working.
It works on underground lines, like a string between two cups. I’ll try calling Raymond’s base when I get home.

However, Martha figured that it
would be a good idea to not tell anyone she has a landline, especially if it works. Everyone would want to be her friend.

I remember when Raymond’s
daddy bought him his first Playstation; all of a sudden he had so many friends. They would always be knocking on the door after Raymond came home from school and immediately go to his room to play videogames. I knew they were using him because he was the first kid in the neighborhood to get one. I imagine it would be the same thing with my phone. Glad I still have the old one with the cord attached. Because supposedly some fart in the wind blew away every signal hanging in the air.

The stillness of the elevator provided a small sense of safety. Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough to quell Martha’s anxiety. She
took out a small razor blade from the bottom of the cart, reached under her shirt to right below her left armpit, and cut three shallow cuts three inches long. She made sure to always wear a thick halter-top to absorb the blood under her work shirt. Martha’s blissful escape from mental activity by physical pain was then interrupted by the automated elevator voice. ‘Floor twenty-five, welcome to The Holden and White Firm.’
Wish I had time to do one more cut. One more and things would be perfect. Damn, it’s always one more.

Martha felt like she was stepping into someone’s house that was worth more than her own life.
The small wastebaskets around the front lobby area were the first task. The office area was quieter than usual. In fact, she didn’t see anyone. It was as if everyone had evacuated when their cell phones stopped working. Then Martha heard the voices of two women in an office around the corner from where she was standing. On any other occasion, she would walk past and come back to that office later when the workers had left. This time however, the voices were elevated and argumentative. The curious side of Martha wanted to hear what they were saying. Plus they might be talking about the idiotic mess people were creating for themselves outside. One woman had a high toned-Jersey Shore accent while the other one had a slow southern drawl. The Jersey woman was freaking out,

“Anything?
Shit, if we aren’t able to get a hold of him…. Oh my God, Oh my God!”

“Relax Snooki.”
The southern woman sounded the sarcastic type. Martha was enjoying it. “Don’t call me that you honkey bitch!”

“Listen darlin’
and calm down. When Mr. White gets back, we will tell him everything was dead and stinking.”

“But that look on his
fuckin’ face. It was like he would kill us if we didn’t call President cockblaster!”

“Honey, a
ll we did was wait a while. Yeah Mr. White told us to call the guy right that minute but he wasn’t going to be back from Washington for a couple of days anyway. What’s the big deal?”

The Jers
ey woman began to scream at the southern woman. “You really had to run some errands didn’t you? Now he is going to know we were both gone. We should have called the motherfucker right away instead of goofing. Didn’t your fat ass hear him say that all the diplomats in Russian and China are being expelled? Like I give a fuck, but I’m assuming it is important shit”

Martha was now standing four feet from the door to the office where the women had been arguing.
There were a few moments of silence. Martha slowed her breathing so she couldn’t be heard. Then suddenly a fat redheaded woman stuck her head out of the door. It was apparent that it was the southern woman when she said, “Oh excuse me sweetie, we thought we heard someone get off the elevator. Martha Diaz, Am I right?”

How does she know my na
me? Breathe girl, don’t puke now!

“Umm, I am so sorry
. I was cleaning. How do you know my name?”

“No worries h
un, we know everyone in the building. The Attorney General owns this firm. Use to be a better man before he got into politics. Only a security precaution here. My name is Scarlett. Say dear, you got a cell phone?”

“Uh hi
Scarlett. No I don’t own one. Not even a computer.”

“Oh I’m sorry,
you don’t read or write?”

“
Yes I can do all of that. I never had the use or the money for any of those gadgets. Didn’t see the point.”

A tall slender woman
in a tight fitting dress, barely hidden cleavage, and shiny black hair, came out of the office.

“So what now, we having a social hour, group hug slash orgy?”

Scarlett sarcastically laughed and shook her head.

“Don’t w
orry Martha, J Wow is experiencing her daily period.”

“Fuck you bitch!”
The Jersey woman then turned to Martha, held out her hand and said, “Hello dear, my name is Jenna. You have a cell phone? Does it work?”

Wow, these two women have the fever just like everyone else.
This is pathetic.

“
Everyone quick to the point aren’t they? No Ma’am I don’t, I’m sorry. Is there any way you guys can fill me in on what’s going on? I just came from the lobby where everyone is freaking out over their phones and computers not working. I’m getting pretty scared.” Jenna lowered her head in disappointment and walked back into the office. Scarlett turned towards Martha, grabbed her gently by the elbow, and led her to a couple of chairs in the hallway.

“Well Martha, w
e have no idea what is causing everything to crash.”

Is that it?
Doesn’t anybody know anything? Why is she looking at me like she wants to kiss me?
Scarlett leaned sideways in her chair worrying Martha that she was going too far. Instead, Scarlett told Martha what she and Jenna had experienced. “I can see you are in shock hun. It’s ok. Big momma Scarlett and whore bath Jenna are here for you. But anyways, Jenna came to me earlier for some bullshit information. I’m sure you know the problems the government is having with Russia and China. They have been blaming America for their inflated prices and trade inequalities. They are campaigning around the world for economic support and petitioning for sanctions against the United States. Oh well, who gives a wet fart. I am the Department of Justice’s liaison to this office and Jenna is my bitch. Without me, she wouldn’t have phone numbers or addresses on anyone. When she asked me for some diplomat’s information, I told her I was going to go get my hair permed and do some shopping. She told me that the boss had left. I asked her if it could wait because I had to take a shit and I wanted to get going. Jenna got pissy. But like Jekyll and Hyde, she smiled her surgically altered grin and asked if she could tag along. We have been good friends for a while. When we got back, everyone was freaking out because all the phones were dead and the internet wasn’t working. Supposedly the phones worked until around lunchtime. So people started acting sick so they could go home. Pansies all around girlfriend!” Martha again wondered how no one had any old phones anywhere. Maybe, she had hoped, a law firm would be smart enough to have a few available. “What about older phones on landlines, the ones buried in the ground”

“
Sorry hun, everything here is cellular and satellite based. I threw my own push button phone away years ago. Hell if they still exist, they might not even work. I wish I could call my boyfriend to let him know I was ok.” As Scarlett stood to stretch her back, Martha accidentally muttered, “I hope my phone at home is working…”

Oops!

“Wait a minute now, hold on! You have one of those older phones at home? The ones that are hooked into the wall?”

Why can’t I keep my mouth shut?
I had felt that I shouldn’t tell anyone and then it comes out like a fart.
“Yeah, but I doubt it would be working. Didn’t they faze them all out because they were breaking down?”

“Yes that is right,
new wireless technology was making communication completely reliable and fiber optics were way obsolete. But have you used it recently?”
Ok Martha, try some bullshitting. You should have never eavesdropped on their conversation! Should have gone on your merry way!

“I don’t remember.
With my son overseas, I don’t really have anyone to call.”

Jenna walks out of the office
with her hands on her hips and a face of determination.

“I have heard enough
ladies.” Jenna’s hands were now on each of Martha’s shoulders with her eyes staring intently into Martha’s. “Listen to me carefully girlfriend. Scarlett and I both ride scooters to work. I can fit you on the back of mine and Scarlett will follow on hers. You wouldn’t fit with her on her bike. We need to go to your house and use that phone. That is if it works.” Martha turned her face away. It is not that often, if ever, that Martha is put on the spot like this. Even though these women seemed aggressive, she had to be up front. “I really don’t feel comfortable doing that. I don’t know you ladies well enough. You seem nice but maybe another time?” Scarlett put her arm around Martha and in a southern charmed tone said, “Oh no dear, you have nothing to worry about. You are perfectly safe with the two of us. We don’t ever hurt anyone. It is only to use the phone and you get a free ride, that’s it. Besides it is only scooters and motorcycles that can get around now with all the traffic problems. Don’t you want to be able to make it home sweetie?”

Maybe they
only want to make one phone call. But what if everyone else starts to show up. My apartment is my home, my sanctuary. It is my comfort zone and I almost let that fat creep come with me that one time. But maybe it would be alright. I do want to go home and I think my boss Wilton would understand when he finds out in the morning. Otherwise I might be stuck here. I just want to see my kitties.
“Ok, I think it would be alright. Can we go now? I’ll deal with my boss tomorrow. I don’t want to stay here anymore. Do you have an extra helmet?”

“Oh
we don’t use helmets. Those are for pussies. If you are going to wreck your bike and bust your head open, then you don’t know how to ride a bike and shouldn’t have been riding in the first place. We never wreck. Put your cart up and meet us in parking garage 3B. We will meet you there in fifteen minutes.”

Many
thoughts rattled Martha’s brain like tumbling bingo balls. One that kept popping in her head was that Raymond had emphasized to be real careful and not let any strangers in the apartment. On one of his most recent calls, he told her that you could never truly know anyone enough; that you never know who you can trust. Martha had assumed Raymond may have recently had his heart broken by a girl or a friend ripped him off. Martha figured that he was just upset about something. Plus he had been evasive for a few years about his job in the Army.

Scarlett
and Jenna may be her only way home if the buses aren’t running. Martha wanted to cut herself again. The urges were strong and she didn’t know when she might get another chance. Plus she didn’t know how long Scarlett and Jenna were going to stick around her apartment.

After she put her cart up, Martha grabbed her purse and walked
through the basement corridor to the parking garage. Before the end of the long corridor, she reached into her purse and took out a razor blade. Then Martha noticed a security camera mounted on the ceiling that was aimed at where she was standing. She stood there stoically looking toward the camera with wetness forming in the bottom of her eyes. For thirty seconds the reality of her addiction was shining on her through the lens of the camera. When it was apparent that cutting herself on camera could bring her unwanted attention, Martha grabbed her purse from the floor and speed walked through the exit door with the razor still in her had. There was a dark corner across from the door she came out of. A perfect spot for someone wanting to hide. Martha was fighting the urge to cry because if the tears came, they would come hard and heavy.

No cameras were pointing towards that dark corner.
The parking garage was quiet and half empty. Martha put her purse on the ground and stood in that dark corner looking at the razor she held in her hand. After thirty seconds, she reached under her cloths to her left armpit. Martha felt for the three cuts from earlier and found the spot below them. With one deep breath, she took the razor and cut a line that was three times longer and much deeper than the three cuts from earlier.

I have to make it longer and deeper; but just this one time.
Maybe it will be the last time. I need to have the strength to make it. I need my head clear and nothing does it better than this.

Then she cut
another line. Then another. It took her seven cuts before she could stop.

Hiding

“This is becoming too much Lord. The weight on me is like the world on Atlas’ shoulders. I feel like I have been on the outside watching in. Watching your children as they slip further and further away from reason, compassion, logic, and even you Lord. I feel at risk and exposed kneeling before you while the devil puts his demons to work outside these walls. I have fought with theses demons myself. They come in all forms. These demons have smothered all of our babies with the blood of sin. Men that I respected and considered friends have stolen from me. I am afraid of their greed. I want to be kneeling here with my eyes on your son until you bring me home Lord. I want to………” Wooden doors splintered and yells filled the church as a group of seven young men entered with a wild fervor. The doors had been locked, but age made the locks mere decoration.

“Hey
guys hold up. I see the preacher at the front. Don’t do anything.” Ben turned slightly and lowered his hands from prayer. He figured the boys to be around fifteen or sixteen years old. “Yo preacher, what do you think you are doing here? Take my advice and go home. Get out your gun and stay low. Forget about the church.” It took a determined defiance to speak against this young man who appeared to be the ringleader. Knowing that a strong stance could bring violence, Ben responded, “I will do no such thing my child. Nothing will deter me from speaking with my God.”

“Hey man, you don’t know what is going on out there.
Everyone is going crazy. No cops, no phones, no email, no nothing. It’s party time out there so you need to move on out!” Pastor Ben strongly rose from his knees and turned around. He looked each young man in the face with a look of a disappointed father, and then stopped at the one that had been speaking. “Party time? Everyone going crazy? And what do you call this? What is it exactly that you are doing? What is it that you are hoping to accomplish?” The young man leaned side to side while looking at his feet as if he was a kid being lectured by his parents. “Nothin’ we ain’t going to do nothin’. Just searching for supplies and stuff that we could sell. With shit goin’ down outside, I don’t think the streets going to be working so smooth. We just looking around yo.”

Pas
tor Ben looked the young man with the look of an parent. He put his fists on his hips and proceeded to lecture in the hope that things weren’t going to spiral out of control. “I know what is going on out there. I know that the phones stopped working this afternoon. I know that the internet and Wi-Fi stopped working as well. I know that it is back to the old days of two cups and a string, writing a letter and putting it in a tin box. Back to the times of walking down the street to invite a friend for a drink. I know what all is going on. Problem is that I just don’t get why everyone thinks it is the end of the world. Why everyone is so upset and wants to destroy things and get angry. I come from the school of when things get bad, people come together to help each other through it. I was a Marine in combat; we adapted, adjusted, and dealt with the horror. We dealt with the fear and all that comes with it because we had no choice. No way around it. What then? Sit around and cry over something you can’t control? Or be smart, step back, and think of the best way to deal with it. The best way to survive. But I guess that is me. Not you.”

Each of the boys
felt shame from what Pastor Ben had said. But their time of silent thought, personal reflection, and retrospect was short lived. “I’m sorry preacher, your God is not my God.” He pulled up his shirt to show a large pistol in his front waste band. Three of the others did the same thing and the other three brought out AK-47 rifles that each of them had been holding behind them. “The streets are my God. Now we’re going to look around and get what we need. You can leave or you can stay and watch. But you better not get in our way.” The leader then nodded his head sideways signaling his crew to get busy.

The seven youths
proceeded separately around the pews. Two left out the side door that led to classrooms and a small banquet room. One went through the door to the right side of the church that led to Ben’s office. The rest went to dismantle the sanctuary sound system. All Ben could do was watch. He didn’t care what they took. He knew, with cell phones and Wi-Fi down, that there is no way to call the police or get help. And what could anyone do against seven heavily armed youths? Several of them looked familiar. Maybe they crossed paths at the gas station, grocery store, or their mother was a church member. He returned to the front alter and tried to pray against the noise of things being tossed around and broken throughout the church.

“Lord guide me and tell me what to do.
All I can think of doing is kneeling here and praying to you. I could go outside, but where? I could go home, but this is your home and I want to be with you. What am I suppose to do? I couldn’t find my son. I couldn’t find my grandkids at their school. I couldn’t find anything but chaos and war.” Pastor Ben rose to his feet and sat on the first row as if taking a break from a boxing match.

They know to find me here.
My son, my precious son. He turned out to be such a good man. His sons turned out to be such good sons. I hope they know to come here. This isn’t the first time the church has been robbed. For some reason I hope it isn’t the last. I must be crazy. But for it to be the last time, means either that everyone out there is dead, or that soon I will be.

Pastor
Ben’s House of Worship has been robbed several times before. Yet he never believed in installing any security systems or an alarm. Ben’s hope was that somehow, the person who stole something would think about where they got it from, thus creating an opening for God to come in and heal them. Ben would joke with his deacons that it was the only way to get criminals to come to church. The deacons didn’t see eye to eye with him on it, but it was Ben’s church. He had been running that church for forty-five years. Ben had paid for it with his Army pay from Vietnam and maintained it from day one. Police officers that responded to the robberies would disagree with him and belittle him when he wouldn’t take their recommendations to install a security system. He would explain his reasons. But for the cops, it was cut and dry. The criminals would keep breaking in because it was such an easy target. But there was one cop that Ben took a liking to. The cop even visited the church that following Sunday to be supportive.

I think his name was Bentley.
It was a special Sunday because if was the first time a white couple had visited my church. It meant so much to me that he showed up. I invite everyone I meet and never thought any police officer would ever show up, but he did.
Ben nearly teared up when Bentley understood his stance on the security system. “Hey Pastor, I know that all you get is flack for not wanting to put in anything. But I enjoyed hearing what you said, you know, about God having a purpose for all those that walk in here. I feel like my spirit was speaking to me. That God was telling me that you are right. That no matter what banner or flag someone walks under, that no matter what purpose they walk through those doors with, this is God’s house and he welcomes all. That really got to me and I have to say it is an honor for my wife and I to visit.” Ben knew that Bentley went to Houston Baptist Ministries. But to Ben, all churches are houses of God even if someone like Nick Simmons runs it.

That
’s another thief right there. Seemed like a nice genuine fellow when I first met him. Oh what evils people can hide beneath the skin. I wonder if Nick is going to walk through those doors tonight also. With all the chaos outside, Pastor Nick might take one last stab at my heart before it all ends. I b
et
he is hiding at his church right now. Only instead of using prayer and God’s comfort, he is using guns and his many cronies. Funny, I was alone here four months ago praying in the same spot and feeling the same way while the church revival was going full swing outside. I am hoping that it was the last time Nick came by playing his tricks.

“Hey there my man!
Nice revival you have going here. Thought I would help with the festivities!”

No matter what premise Nick showed up under, Ben knew the true agenda.
“I won’t sell to you Nick.” In the manner of a used car salesman who was being accused by a customer of ripping him off, Nick played it smooth and said, “Whoa, Whoa now hold on there chief. I am trying to be nice and use the gifts that God have given me to help you.” Ben held his emotions yet stood firm.

“Get those trucks out of here please.
If I wanted your help, I would have asked for it.” There were already twenty people in the churchyard sitting and eating hotdogs when Nick drove up with two box trucks. It was going to be a big revival with two guests scheduled to speak. There was going to be singing and dancing. Ben even had a nice stereo system playing Christian and Gospel music. Several barbecue pits from a local restaurant were smoking meats with several volunteers tending them. And many more people were expected as the day went on.

How did he find out I was having a revival?
Ben didn’t even need to ask.

“Well
Ben, I received phone calls from several of your parishioners saying you are throwing a revival and that you had no idea what you are doing. You may have forty-five years experience, but my seven years experience have been much more productive. You haven’t learned; I have. Sorry to say, you got people here that are concerned.”
You have spies in my church? Concerns my ass!

Nick turned around and yelled at his guys to start unloading the trucks.
Inside those trucks were large speakers, folded tables and even bleachers. Coolers full of water, soda and cold foods were stacked as well. “All feelings aside, you could use this stuff. All free. No conditions. But the issue of you and me still needs to be settled.” Ben looked away defiantly from Nick while he was talking. But felt the time had come to address these issues once and for all. “Nick why don’t you come with me into my office. Tell your men to hold off on unloading the trucks. In fact don’t let any of my people see the stuff in the trucks because being the good hard workers they are, they will jump in and start unloading.”

“Right behind you preacher, lead the way.”

Once inside, Ben watched as Nick rolled his eyes while looking at the pictures on the wall. Being the size of a small bedroom, Ben’s office couldn’t even begin to compare with the elegant and over the top office that Nick had. In fact, Nick appeared uneasy about sitting in one of the two plastic chairs in front of Ben’s desk. As if they were too cheap or dirty for him.

“Alright Nick, it is just you and me here.
No putting on a show. No bullshit. I know you are buying churches all throughout the Southwest. I know you feed them this story that you are going to save them and help them. I also know you use them for your businesses. I know you want this property to be used by Manny as a car dealership to funnel drugs into the area. You want to use God’s house to move drugs? I too have people in your church that have concerns as well. I hear everything. You have been trying for years to lure church members from smaller churches. You promise all kinds of assistance for the poor. Then you make them work to pay it off. I know your angles.”

“Ok Ben, stop right there.”

“No Nick! Admit it. There isn't anyone listening here. Lay it out for me. Because I plan to fight you hard.” Nick sat back in the chair calmly with a sigh, and an expression of a man ready to confess. He bluntly began, “Ok, you want the truth? Your church will become mine. Your people will still come to worship; you will still lead your pathetic services. You can even have your little revivals which don’t do shit. But you will ask me for permission. You will not be allowed to care what my business is. But you will pay rent. You have structural issues, compliance issues and even debt issues. You will not have the resources to fix them. Then at a time that is appropriate, your building might have to be demolished. Whether it is a car dealership or a nail salon that takes its place, I will decide what will best benefit this community.”

“Yeah because you and your cronies will
create those issues to make it happen. Let me tell you what. Your little wife sits up at your big house in River Oaks all day and all night by herself. She sleeps all the time and watches TV. She never gets any support from you and is probably looking to get away from you. What if she were to see pictures of you at the strip club or a prostitute happens to give her a call. A prostitute that you beat up Nick! And who happens to be a member here in case you didn’t know. What if your wife knew all about the fire here several years ago and that the man convicted for setting it was a janitor from your church? She might want to talk to the news about it.” Nick was having trouble hiding his uneasiness as he answered.

“She won’t care becaus
e it is in her best interest not to care. Katy knows better. And it would be in your best interest to shut the fuck up before the Lord’s power works its way through my fist straight into your face!”

“I know you aren’t going to be able to take my church from me.
Even you know it. So what are you going to do, bully me? Hurt me?” Ben could see rage replacing the nervousness and reddening the skin of Nick’s face. The rage spilled out. “I will kill your fucking family is what I will do. You have really pissed me off with these stupid allegations. Now you owe me this church. You don’t do this to someone and not pay for it.”

“What?
You’re going to threaten me now? I resist, you get pissed and because of that I owe you? Owe you my church?”