The Nothing (4 page)

I wish people knew that when there is shooting going on, it was best to
go somewhere else, not standing there like your watching a fucking parade or street performer. Oh God why didn’t I use some fucking patience?

Any other time his heart would have
broke. But all he wanted to do was get to his squad car. As Bentley ran from the alley out into the street, he glanced to the front of the restaurant. The large crowd had now made their way inside. Several turned around and pointed as he ran by. No time to watch out for any more gunmen. They could be inside or somewhere waiting in ambush. And the spectators still weren’t making much of an effort to get out his way. After several bumped shoulders and shoves, Bentley made it to the door of his car. The time from when he grabbed the door handle, to when he was able to get in and close the door, seemed like an eternity. As soon as the door slammed shut, Bentley fumbled for the lock button then heard the beautiful sound of all four doors locking. Finally he could catch his breath.

Sadly, the
stillness inside of the car was quickly disrupted. Several people surrounded the car and began yelling and banging on the hood. He was able to make out “Murderer, pig, and killer pig.” Bentley had shot two unarmed black businessmen taking a lunch break, two innocent businessmen that he had sworn to protect. They probably went to church like he did. Might have been war heroes, organ donors, college graduates, mentors, artists, husbands, fathers, brothers, and sons. They were more than likely the type of men that Bentley would give his life for because he believed so much in his job and the people he protected. Never had he ever wanted or imagined that he would be in a situation like this. Gentleness and innocence were Bentley’s strongest character traits. Now he was a cop that had abandoned a homicide scene, a bleeding suspect still cuffed to a chair, shot two innocent men, and was being targeted by a group of men that wanted to kill him. And he was alone.

The weird guy

There stood the payphone. A channel for help amongst the chaotic scene on Cam 32-45N. James wanted to laugh because it was so ridiculous to him. No calls to 911 were being registered from Almeda’s.
Why don’t any of those dumbshits use the payphone since obviously their cell phones aren’t working? That cop is going to get his ass kicked!
He made a deal with himself that if no one used it for the next 5 minutes, he was going to go masturbate in the supervisor’s restroom. Sooner or later, James felt that he would be supervisor. And things would run smoothly with him at the helm.
How would supervisors know what to do in a situation like this anyways? They sit in their offices and play Angry Birds or Candy Crush on their stupid smartphones.

James
leaned in closer to the screen showing the action at Almeda’s and noticed that people were continuously having trouble getting their cell phones to work.
Must be a downed tower.
This was all fascinating to him, watching the drama unfold on a monitor from a small windowless room on the third floor. Being tucked away in the Houston Transcom building gives a person a sense of security. It was a heavily secured building that spanned seven floors above ground and three below. The protection is necessary because if anything was going wrong on the city’s roadways, the guys at Transcom had to be able to help coordinate city response.

Still, t
wenty feet away from the chaos stood that perfectly good payphone. Several coworkers had come through to make sure he was aware of what was transpiring on Cam 32-45N. But he would snap at them. “I’ve been on this since the beginning. Nothing gets past me like it does all of you. Shut the door behind you.” Quite often, he believed he was the only around that knew about life and how to handle anything.

The view of I-45 northbound elevation, and the riot
brewing below it, was projected on a 9-inch LED Sony. In was one of forty screens in one of many small rooms called stations. James would sit in that room for eight-hour shifts listening to emergency reports, monitoring the roadways and providing information for responding personnel if requested. He liked the job title, Emergency Response Analyst, and would mention it anytime someone paid him any attention. Communication from an analyst, such as James, would be through a typed message on a computer and sent to all assigned police, fire and rescue personnel working the scene. To most it would be a boring job and it barely paid above poverty. But James enjoyed being by himself not having to move around or lift anything. He felt that if he did a job that required lifting, moving and sweating, he’d be wasting his many self described talents.

My brain is something that
is valuable. It would be a waste to do warehouse or outside work. What makes my hands dangerous is my brain. What makes me superior is my brain. Only a loser would do things that used sweat and dirt. I know for me, I will go far and dominate any endeavor I come across.

But t
his situation was becoming unusual. People usually would be aiming their phones to capture the melee on video. In a scene like that, spectators usually call a friend or family member to brag about what was going on as if it were a party. But this one felt different. Yet James was enjoying the show nonetheless.

Occasionally
James would get to see a major accident or a crime scene off the side of whatever freeway he was monitoring. One time he watched a roof fly off of a gas station during a tropical storm. That made him excited and he made a point to brag to anyone who would listen. As he was watching the riot unfold in the front parking lot at Almeda’s Burger Shack, he pondered what the people there were thinking. James always disappears into analytical thought and assumption.
I bet she is trying to call her boyfriend to come beat up the cop. That guy there is a drug dealer planning to bring in his gang and rob the place. Deputy Duey is probably scared shitless. I’ll send a citywide message; maybe there are garbage men nearby that could help. Man if no other cops show up, this could get bloody. God I wish I could be recording this. A video like this would make me famous. And for sure if I was there, I could help that cop. I would know what to do.
While deep in thought, James failed to notice each screen, one by one, go blank.

Analyzing situations was like mental exercise to
James. It was how he amused and entertained himself. Usually he ends up disappearing into his own thoughts and fantasies while forgetting where he is. Just like daydreaming. Sometimes he would think of his former professor, Dr. Zachariah Abernathy. The old man had lectured on human nature in a psychology class during James’ junior year at the University of Houston. Most of the other professors, in James’ eyes, were nothing but know-it-alls who used big words to make them sound smart. But not Dr. Abernathy. What James liked most was that he encouraged his students to question everything and look deeper beneath the surface. Even rebel against authority. Lectures on the subject of authority would often focus on history and how many of the greatest societal improvements for mankind were made through rebellion, and even terrorism.

Several
lectures were on self-awareness, and if you feel that you have a sort of superior and advanced ability, then it is a natural feeling that should be explored. It was only then that you could attain superiority over others. Simply by seeing what everyone else doesn’t. There are few wolves, but many sheep.
I may look like a sheep but I am a wolf in hibernation that will awaken when the time comes!

James took
a strong liking to Dr. Abernathy’s lectures and would obsess over his notes. When others in study groups would get tired of James’ long tirades and blabbering, he would insult them and say that they didn’t have the capability to understand such advanced concepts. James had also said to quite a few classmates who challenged him, “Go get a job and leave academia to the advanced people.” Occasionally James would even misstate facts to someone who knew better. He would try to top anyone’s story by telling an even bigger one on the same topic. If someone talked about being arrested, James talked about the hell and danger he experienced at the mental hospital, all three times. If someone told a story of their vacation backpacking through Europe, James had to revel in his survival expertise from hiking the woods behind his childhood house. When in all actuality, he was just a kid camping in a tent in his backyard. If a story came up about a particular career, he always seems to know how to do the job or that he had done something like it before. A lawyer, whom James met through a dating website, made the mistake of telling him a few stories about her experiences. He talked about how he had thought of being a lawyer, but that he was too smart and could do more in the real world outside of a courtroom. She also had no idea what an Emergency Response Analyst was, but though it looked interesting on his online profile. What James didn’t tell her was that he worked for Transcom for just above minimum wage. He was evasive and secretive when she would ask what he specifically did at his job. In his hopeful mind, she would assume he was a secret agent or spy; and then excitedly sleep with him at the end of the night. Yet it didn’t quite work out that way. They had met at a nice Italian place called Marco’s. She was well dressed, smelled wealthy, and loved to run marathons. James was overweight, kept sweating and smelled like mildew mixed with vanilla. Etiquette and presentation were virtues that always escaped James in social situations. Needless to say, he never saw the lawyer again.

Another time,
James accidentally talked about his ideas of combat and war with an Army officer named Julio. Though James had no idea who the guy was at the time or that he had seen combat throughout the Middle East. James’ mother had been celebrating her birthday and invited a large group of friends and family to the house. Older folks visited in the kitchen while the younger folks sat in the living room talking politics and the conflicts overtaking several Middle Eastern nations. James invited a few of his own friends to the house as well. The Army officer was a friend of James’ cousin Josh. Five minutes into the conversation, James began discussing what combat conditions were like in the latest Iraqi war as if he had experienced it. But Julio grew suspicious of James’ flawed Hollywood like details and had to speak up. “You seem very familiar with combat and war. Did you serve in the military? Which branch? How did you come to know what war is like?” James responded that he knew but couldn’t really go into detail.
How dare this motherfucker question my intelligence! What if I had top-secret clearance, was a secret agent, and couldn’t talk about it. People should back the fuck up and show some respect.

Cousin Josh
knew James’s tendency at embellishing details and being full of shit, but kept his mouth shut. Sometimes people found it entertaining to see James mouth off a bunch of bullshit only to be proven wrong. So Josh was going to let this conversation run its course. And James went with it hard. “If I was involved in any work in the government, I wouldn’t be able to talk about it. I would be sworn to secrecy. So I can’t say what I have done without jeopardizing lives!”

Now Julio was pissed.
“Enough with the bullshit dude! Talk about something else or shut the fuck up. You are so full of shit! I’m so sick of hearing Army electricians claim to be Special Forces or Navy firefighters claiming to have trained with Navy Seals! Or fat boring whiners wanting others to think they are something they are not!” James was trying to hide the trembling in his hands. “What makes you think I am bullshitting? You don’t know me or where I have been!”

“Yeah you are right, I don’
t know you, but I know combat. And it is definitely not what you’ve been describing. By the way, I am Lieutenant Julio Olmos of the 75
th
Ranger Regiment, United States Army motherfucker! One thing I also know is that you are too fat and egotistical to have been to war. If you had been, then it would be a disgrace to be acting like you are. A soldier would never talk of war as if it were a movie. I know your type; you like to lie about being in some secret unit, carrying out assassinations and missions. You say your records are so top secret that you can’t even admit you were in the military. You think you can impress people, make them worship you. You lie to cover up your failures and the fact that you are nothing. I have heard it all before and it disgusts me.”

James knew he was backed into a corner.
Situations like this always threw him into a whirlwind of self-deprecation.
I wish I were dead. Why can’t life be better? What am I doing? I always end up making an ass of myself. Why couldn’t I have been someone like Julio? I bet he has had lots of girlfriends.
Ok, damage control! Let me see if I can salvage this and make it through this evening without looking like a total loser.
Being called a nothing made James feel really low. The walk from conversations like this, were very long and depressing. After such bad evenings, James would call in sick to work, sleep and eat too much. He would hurt for several days. But for now, he was still sitting across from Julio.

James
felt a tense heat in his face and knew that he was in an awkward spot. Unfortunately the conversation had already dealt him a losing blow that he wasn’t going to recover from. It would have been best if the conversation had died at that point, yet with his ego, James couldn’t help but to continue. “Yeah well looks can be deceiving. Maybe I can’t tell you anything because my experiences are classified.” With a confident grin, Julio finished. “Then we will leave it at that. If you will excuse me, I am going to go visit with someone else.”

Figuring
that stopping right there would let the issue fade away, James stayed silent. Julio walk away without even looking at him. The rest of the evening couldn’t have gone slower. Everyone who had been near the whole conversation knew that James must have been very embarrassed, but couldn’t think of anything to say or do to lighten the atmosphere. At social gatherings, people always worried that James was going to make an ass of himself. Some felt sorry for him, but with time, patience would wear thin. James would eventually lose touch with most of his friends. Friends became conveniently busy when James was free.

Once upon a time, James had
actually tried to enlist in the military. The Army had told him he was too fat and that being on antidepressants automatically disqualified him from being a candidate for military service. But in his mind, he felt like he knew enough about military and that the recruiters didn’t know what they were talking about.
Oh, they have no idea what I can do. But I can understand their worries with me someday taking their jobs or running the show. They should make exceptions for fat people with exceptional capabilities.

With the military a dead end
, James started taking community college classes. Eventually he made his way to the University of Houston. He finished with a bachelor’s degree in Philosophy at the age of thirty-two after eleven hard years. Those who knew him felt he was finally going to do something with his life. It was a relief to his mother, who thought he was going to be living with her for the rest of his life. James’ dad left when he was six to go live with a male escort in Mexico he’d met in a Tijuana brothel. James has never been ready to move out, nor has he managed his money to the point where he could afford it. Frequent job hopping and empty excuses hindered the confidence his mother tried to have in him. “The company is shutting down,” “I was laid off,” or “They have mold in the walls making everyone sick, I have to leave or I will die. No Mom, it’s not all the beer I drink!”