The House of Dust - 5th Chapter

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The Church

John

John wasn’t impressed with the church. After all, he was a good Christian and saw all the great churches everywhere he traveled. That one was mediocre and poorly constructed, like the rest of the town. What interested him the most was the angry shouting inside. Standing in front of an improvised desk—a door over two trestles—two men debated furiously like a bunch of ignorant animals.

“I walk back to the farm,” Feit said, but John barely listened, for he was focused on the fight a few meters ahead.

Gerbert argued with a small man, shouting about the dangers of climbing the tower without the right equipment. The short man looked remarkably like Ernie from the “Hey, Arnold!” cartoon, a small but muscular figure with hair growing more on his chest and arms than on his head. But Ernie had a good heart, while that small man was just an asshole.

Behind them stood a priest in long black clerical garments, tall, proud, and vain, looking at Gerbert and Ernie with disdain. His eyes were black, matching his clothes, and John felt his intense presence like he was a magnet. The priest ignored the fight, looking uninterested around the construction site, judging the quality of the work so far. Proposedly or not, the priest also missed John, like he was not even in the room.

Behind them all, there were three teenagers. John wondered if they were all built in an assembly line, for they were the same, with a slight difference in height from oldest to youngest.

John got bored from looking at them, so he walked around the church, trying to fill in his boredom. The church was cross-shaped, with the altar in Jesus’ head, five meters tall, but the walls and ceiling were incomplete. The tower was above the altar, held by four large pillars, with no floor. The access to the gallery was a shaky wooden ladder or the scaffoldings attached to the church’s central post, both not high nor safe enough. If they wanted to reach and build the tower floor, they would need to climb, and for that, they were surely underequipped.

The arguments escalated. Gerbert and Ernie punched the table to avoid hitting each other.

Mark smoked a cigarette in a corner. John wondered what his brother was thinking underneath that poker facade.

“Fucking sozzled! Cake eater!” Ernie shouted.

“It’s too risky! Hear me up, please. We don’t have enough belts for us, at least to raise the boards! Yar plan is insane, Stephen! We need more time and tools. Father Octaviano, we need fuel to go get more scaffolding and order more belts,” Gerbert said.

Stephen, not Ernie, John thought, looking at the short man, gazing at his scornful eyes. Stephen wanted to be heard, to get onto Gerb’s nerves, either by shouting like a kid or verbal aggression.

“Ya’r a scared little pony, aren’t ya, Gerbert?” Stephen said.

The Christian Father had a low and penetrating voice, echoing through the construction site. Even the pillars seemed to shake with his voice. Everyone was silent, including John’s thoughts, when he spoke.

“That is enough. God has spoken, and His will is clear. This pursuit of yours has taken much longer. You ought to finish the church by the solstice, as promised. That’s in a week, isn’t it, Gerbert? So, I suppose you don’t have the time you want. Make it work.” The priest shook the dust from his robe and exited the church, passing by the Rodriguez brothers like they were not in the room.

“Y’all heard the man! Back to work,” Stephen shouted to the teenagers and laughed, turning to the brothers. “Well, well, well. What we have hir’? Gerbert take more cake eaters in?”

“We’re brothers,” John said.

“Brothers, hum?”

“Live ‘em boys alone. Y’all said, everyone back to work!” Gerbert said, rubbing his face on a kerchief.

“Maybe they do the tower. ‘Em cake eaters look more men than y’all, Gerbert, even Beardy over there. What about ya, Ms. Grundy, fancy jasper. Cant’ya work hard? Arya men enough for this job, boy?” Stephen said, pointing at Mark.

Mark only threw smoke in the air, not bothered by the comment. But John, oh man, John wanted to put that small man into his place.

“They have no experience. ‘Em boys sort material, it’s safer,” Gerbert said.

Stephen laughed with scorn. “Bushwa! What about the Beardy over there? He looks like a dew-dropper, but the fancy doll over there seems to know a lot about woods and nail.”

“Enough, for mighty out highty! Dylan, take ‘em boys in the yard and show ‘em the work,” Gerbert said, and the older of the three teenagers came closer to John quietly. “Ignacio and Virgil, work on the walls. I’ll check if someone in town have racks, scaffolding, ladders, or anything that we could use.”

Stephen laughed again and shouted some old dirty slang, following the teenagers outside.

“Com’,” Dylan, the taller and probably the oldest, called. His voice was cracked with insecurity.

A pile of wood boards and other construction materials rested on another improvised desk in the backyard. Dylan explained the many construction materials and how John and Mark should sort the bolts and nuts, a job not worthy of John’s time anyway. Soon Stephen came closer and said, “Let’s try not kill ourselves today, shalln’t we? Yar, homo brothers, sort me this list. Bring inside. Boys’ll help y’all with ‘em heavy boards. Careful with yar flower hands. Capice, sozzled?”

“Sure,” Mark replied, emotionless.

“Beardy here look like someone who knows about wood and nails, aren’t y’all cake eater?” the little man provoked again, mocking Mark’s long hair and leaving right after. Dylan chuckled while John snorted.

Mark started to work as if nothing had happened. John was incredulous about his brother’s hard skin; he would kill that small man if he could.

“Why aren’t you pissed?” John said.

“What’s the point? Let’s get this done, and later if we’re lucky, we can leave.” Mark shrugged.

Mark seemed to be speaking another language, for it took forever for John to absorb what he said. But Mark was right; it was not worthy. Soon John realized that the work he was doing was stupider than he thought, so he only pretended to work and watched the church and the workers.

“I’m bored,” John said.

“That’s ‘cos you’re not working.”

“Fuck you and these stupid chores,” John shouted and walked away, raising dust with his heavy fancy shoes. He decided to go after Mann and the fuel, for he wouldn’t wait the entire day with his arms crossed.

The street was a desert, covered in sand. The construction site was remote. John could only see buildings a few blocks away, looking as decayed and mediocre as everything else in that stupid city. There was a larger building in the distance, probably a school or a police station.

They should have fuel for the police cars, at least, John thought and walked towards it, but the sun was unbearable. Soon, the heat took over his body. Why did I wear this stupid shirt and shoes? The sweat rolled down his neck slowly. For a moment, John became dizzy from dehydration.

John would get sun sick if he kept pushing toward the distant building. That was when he heard a motor roar. Mann’s truck came from the ground road, driving towards John. John got in the middle of the street and signed for Mann to stop.

I’m so lucky! Mann just came to see me with his fuel truck! What are the odds?

Mann stopped and stepped out of the truck. The old man seemed even weirder in the daylight: fragile, as thin as a pencil, with crazy-looking eyes, one blue and one green, humping as he walked.

“Howdy. Wher’s Gerbert?” Mann said.

“He isn’t here. He’s in the city to look for... something. I think,” John said.

“Oh, rhatz! Shit’s warm. Bad sun, eh.”

“Good, I found you. Do you have news about the fuel?”

“Nah. Notta pip, eh.”

Those words smelled like lies! Or was it the strange smell coming out of the old man?

“How are you driving this big truck then? Just give half what you have, and I will pay you ten times the regular price.”

“Nah, can’t do tha’. Have ain’t much, eh. Tomorrow com’ yars.” The older man barely finished his sentence and jumped back to the truck, leaving John fishing for words.

Fuck Esperanza! John shouted in his mind. Mediocre sons of bitches! I hate this place; I hate these people! What am I doing in this butt hole?! What was I thinking when I accepted this stupid trip when everything in my life was falling apart? John decided to find a phone in the city, call a taxi, and leave the insurance company to come to rescue his car. Mark could finish the trip alone.

The trial was the most important event of his whole life. Win or lose, it would define his life forever, and he is the butt-hole city counting nails. How fun was that? Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

Oh, John hated his ex-wife at that moment. Fucking bitch must be laughing right now, pushing me into this abyss!

John couldn’t stop sweating, and the dizziness was back. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe. Finally, knowing he shouldn’t stay longer in the sun, John went back to the church to ask Mark for help.

Mark still sorted the nails, bolts and nuts, pegs, wood boards, joints, and wires as asked by the workers. He was a busy bee with his arms and hands full of dirty oil and red sand. He was shirtless to fight the heat and looked like a beggar more than ever.

“You look tired; here!” Mark said and threw John a water bottle, cleaning the sweat on his face. John’s cheeks felt red, and he was thirsty as hell. Finally, Mark lit a cigarette, and John stared deeply back at him. “What’s wrong, and please don’t tell me it’s the cigarette?”

“Nothing, Give me the list. What do I do?” John replied, drooling a bit of the water.

“You could stop bitching, for starters,” Mark said, emotionless, which took John by surprise. It was the first time John heard Mark saying something like that, so instead of reacting, John laughed. “Now, you see those small boxes? Put these piles inside them and take them inside.”

John laughed his tension away and finally started to work.

Two hours passed, and Dylan talked to Mark about his life and home school. His father died in the church fire, as did many with him, and his mother was a teacher for most young kids. After telling him about his humble origins, the teenager asked Mark for a cigarette. They both smoked together, enjoying each other’s company.

Then one of Dylan’s brothers came to the yard and screamed, “Break time!”

Everyone went out of the church to the backyard when Gerbert arrived back, carrying a giant picnic basket. Although John’s voracious hunger, he couldn’t pay any attention to the large sandwiches that Gerbert took out of the basket; his eyes were fixed on the person near the old farmer. His mouth opened and closed like a fish trying to breathe, and the sun warmed up to ten thousand degrees.

Who is she?

The world became silent, mute; everything was gray but the colors of that angel. John could only hear her steps and see her red lips. His heart stopped, watching her suave moves as she glided in the clouds, levitating.

Her black hair was tied up in a complex ponytail. Her face, so perfectly shaped, was delicate and symmetrical, covered in freckles so charming as Monet’s gentle brush. Her lips were full, not large nor small, but a perfect kiss shape covered in a thin layer of lipstick. Her skin was tanned, and she wore a long summer dress, light blue, stopping at the ankles, so John could see her perfect shoulders and arms, solid but delicate, big breasts, fine neck, and thin waist rounding hips. Finally, her porcelain feet, restrained by leather sandals, were miraculously absent of any sand and dust, white with long but delicate fingers.

The woman looked at John, and for a moment, he felt like all the air had escaped from his lungs. Her eyes had different colors, blue like water from a Greek pool and green like the widest tropical jungle, sparkling with the sunlight like perfect gems, sapphire, and emerald.

Such absolute perfection! That woman could only be a goddess, perhaps Aphrodite or maybe Calypso. John would be thrilled to be trapped in the Ogygia islands with that goddess. For a moment, he forgot about all his problems.

After measuring her thoroughly, John realized that the priest was also back. The woman strolled towards him, greeting people as she passed by but not giving much attention to anyone.

Her eyes met John’s again, and the time stopped.

“Hi,” she said in such a beautiful voice and smiled but left before John could remember the sound of the words in his mouth.

When she reached the priest, John realized his lungs were indeed working, and the world’s sound and color were back on. Still, the poor lawyer’s heart sounded like an orchestra.

Running from inside the church, Jack Feit rushed to her side like a bodyguard or a kid protecting his candy.

“She’s hot, isn’t she?”

“She’s perfect,” John answered automatically, not realizing that Mark was the one asking. His young brother was covered in dust and smelled like sweat and smoke, and John realized that he, too, was filthy. How could he approach her in his precarious-looking condition?

Stephen was near the priest and took a long breath to push his big belly in, trying to look less fatty. Funny enough, the woman simply ignored him.

For the first time, Jack Feit smiled. Before that, John never saw any human emotion in him. The man was a soldier, cold and emotionless, but he looked like a kid around that angel. John realized that the man was much younger than he first thought.

“Lili! Come see the tower,” Jack said and pushed her inside the church.

“Thanks for the smoke, sir.” Dylan gave back Mark’s half-smoked cigarette and ran towards Gerbert and his big picnic basket. There were fresh water and egg sandwiches, and everyone stopped to eat.

Gerbert eventually came closer to John, who ate alone below a thin bush, watching the woman from the corner of his eyes.

“Hey, champ. I saw Mann earlier, and he said tomorrow yar fuel come, as always. So maybe he’s right, and tomorrow y’all can leave. But I shan’t bet that horse, eh,” Gerbert said.

“I saw him too. How is he driving that big old truck then?” John said.

“Old? Well, I checked ‘em truck, and the tank mark is red. Sorry, champ.”

That whole situation was a joke, for Esperanza was a trap with no hope. John had never felt so alone and vulnerable in his life; there was nothing he could do but pray that the rest of the world would be waiting for him. But the reality is often grimmer. John knew that he would become a fugitive by not being available to the court at the right time. There was not much to do but try to convince that old farmer to help him find alternatives. John could easily manipulate that simpleton to do his bidding. Country people, simple-minded people, are often docile and sympathetic, and Gerbert should’ve known who could have fuel or a telephone in the city.

“Look, Gerbert. I don’t know if I mentioned it before, but I am a lawyer. People call me Dr. Rodrigues, even if I’m not a doctor, but I don’t mind. In ten days, I have an important audience, a huge case of injustice, you know, a real travesty! An innocent man was unfairly charged with wrongdoing, and I’m the only one who can defend him.”

Gerbert listened carefully in silence, and after a pause, in which John thought the dumb farmer didn’t understand a word, he said, “The innocent man is you, isn’t it, champ?”

John was caught by surprise. That farmer was much cleverer than John predicted and worse, even sounding like Paul, John’s father.

But that didn’t shake John, oh no sir, for he was a brilliant lawyer, a master of manipulation. Thus, he quickly adapted his strategy from hero to victim.

“Yes. I’ll be frank with you, Gerb. Can I call you Gerb?”

“Sure,”

John’s voice was mellow like a hungry cat. “So Gerb, my wife wants a divorce. She wants my money. You’re a businessman and know how hard it is to build up your assets. Imagine if Miridiana tomorrow decides to unmarry you and take away all you have, everything you ever worked for. Still, I’m a fair man, so I’ve proposed a very good deal, something no one in sound conscience would refuse, but she did. Now my case is going in front of a judge, and the judge’s a woman.”

“A woman?!” Gerbert sounded surprised, so John felt satisfied with grabbing his attention.

“Can you believe that? And there’s more, Amanda started to spread misinformation about me, trying to damage my image, which is something fundamental to a lawyer. Because of all of this, I need to be back home ASAP to work on my case.”

John felt like winning, but he realized that suddenly Gerbert stopped reacting, so the lawyer continued.

“On top of that, my mother passed away last week. A tragedy, she just learned about all this misinformation Amanda’s spreading, and my mother, oh my mother, she’s the proudest when it comes to her lawyer son. It just killed her.”

“I’m deeply sorry about yar mother, champ.”

“Thank you, Gerb. Sorry to trouble you with my problems, but I can’t stop thinking about all of this. First the divorce, and now my mother. It broke my heart to see her go, cancer—a nasty, nasty disease. I wanted to be with her all the time when she got sick, but my work and this divorce pushed me away. Mom even wrote me a farewell letter saying that, despite my issues, she was proud of me. She had one humble dying wish: for me to take her ashes to the coast so she could rest with my father in the sea. I do everything for her, so I’m here, lost in the desert.”

The old farmer didn’t move a muscle, looking fixed at the church tower. John grew impatient again and involuntarily started talking again, faster and louder.

“I need you, Gerb. I need you to help me finish my mother’s dying wish, so I can make her proud again. Please, help me find fuel or a telephone.”

“I just told y’all that we have none. Y’all should talk to Mann.”

“Someone in the city must have reserves, right? You said something about the mines, and I saw a police building. They must have police cars there. I don’t need much, just enough to get to the next city. I’m sure if we find the right office, or even some of your friends in the mines, they can get us some for the right payment, of course. Maybe fifteen liters? That will take me to the next city.”

The farmer looked back at John, tired, and said, “Yar asking me to pay someone to steal the gasoline? For a lawyer, y’all do seem to know very little about laws.”

John blushed red.

“Look, champ, I can’t help you. I don’t know what build y’all see, but there’s no police, and every time the fuel misses, the mine stops. I can only ask around, but it’ll be a waste of time.”

“That’s all I’m asking. Thank you, sir.”

“Don’t sir me yet. And son,” Gerbert paused again, measuring his words. At last, he said, “We all make mistakes, sometimes even little things become an absolute nightmare. Sometimes it even cost the lives of the people we love the most. We can take responsibility or let it decide our penance. Either way, we’ll pay in the end. Make sure y’all get to decide how much for yar mistakes.”

Gerbert finished his sandwich and stood, stopping to say one last thing.

“What ‘bout yar brother, eh? He seems like a good kid, except for that woman’s hair. Did he take care of yar mother when she was sick?”

John thought before answering, picking up words, regretting using his mother to win the old man’s sympathy.

“Mark is unemployed. It was a fair arrangement.”

“Unemployed, hum? He say last night he’s a pro... programo... something, whatever that is.”

John’s mind was racing, not sure when Mark talked to Gerbert about it or even if that was true. John didn’t know anything about Mark’s professional life. “It’s not a real job, and you shouldn’t believe all Mark says.”

“So, the kid lied?”

“I don’t know,” John said.

“So y’all don’t know about yar brother’s life? Didn’t y’all talk when y’all visit yar sick mother?”

John was fishing for words, involuntarily opening and closing his mouth.

“Y’all visited yar mother when she was sick, right?” Gerbert carried on, but John felt like his tongue was locked. “So, yar brother, who don’t have a real job, took care of yar mother because y’all’re busy protecting yar money from yar wife? It’s not my place to say anything, but y’all seem to dig yar own grave. Maybe y’all should ask yar brother help; he seems to know what he’s doing. Anyway, I’ll see what I can do.”

Gerbert left, and John was reminded of those bitter words his mother wrote in her farewell letter:

Take your brother’s life as your own.

John swallowed his pride in silence.

Two hours after the launch break, shouts came from inside the church. Mark and John dropped everything and ran inside, only to see the exact figures around the improvised desk fighting again about the upper floor.

John was bothered to see the priest without a sweat on his face, despite his black clerical clothes. What are you, a pig?

Mark watched the scene shirtless and dirty, looking like a starving prophet, with his long hair, beard, and curious eyes. Then, finally, he asked John, “This again?”

“Asshole time,” John replied but kept looking around to see if he would find the sexy lady. She wasn’t there, only Jack Feit.

Gerbert seemed more agitated than before, so Stephen seemed to be getting the best out of the discussion with his childish mockery.

The priest barely mediated the debate, for it was already decided when he finally said, with his low and powerful voice, “My decision is final. You will carry on and start the upper floor today.”

“But Father, this’s a mistak—”

“I heard you the first time, Gerbert,” the priest interrupted and headed to the backyard but stopped when he saw Mark shirtless, standing at the backdoor, and shouted in disgust, storming out of the church. “This is the house of the Lord! Have some respect and put your shirt on at once.”

Mark didn’t move one millimeter.

Gerbert looked hundred years older, while Stephen shone and smiled, asking who was brave enough to climb the scaffolding.

“Arya, Beardy? Arya, pretty boy?”

“I… I can do it. I’m not afraid of a damn thing,” said Dylan, insecurely, the older teen who smoked with Mark. He was clearly not up to that task.

“This boy Dylan have some balls, right Gerbert?” Stephen said.

“Enough with the mockery, Stephen. I’m tired of your stupid behavior. This is the house of the Lord, and one shall not curse or deceit in his presence. “The priest returned, stopping again at the door to repress Mark. “Why didn’t you put on a shirt yet?”

Mark finally rushed outside.

Gerbert said with more insecurity in his voice, dripping sweat and sorrow, “I’ll do it, not the boy. If something happens to me, so be it. He can help me send the material up the scaffolding.”

“It is settled then. Start immediately,” the priest ordered.

John went back into the yard and saw Mark looking for his shirt. They started to work again, but something was bothering John.

“Do you think there’s something wrong with the church? Any reason that the priest or Stephen would rush to finish this stupid church?”

“Why do you say that?” Mark said.

“I don’t know, just a feeling. I deal with scumbags most of my time, and that priest’s a qualified scumbag,” John said.

Mark shook his shoulder and continued working.

I must be nervous about my trial, John reflected. I must be seeing evil everywhere now. God, how I miss my wife.

But didn’t that bitch betray you? a voice spoke inside John’s head. She abandoned you and is now trying to send you to jail.

Yeah, that bitch! She pushed my buttons with her lover. If she hadn’t abandoned me, maybe I would’ve spent more time with my mother.

John knew that those thoughts weren’t rational, but he was tired, and antagonizing Amanda seemed the right thing to do.

Stop wasting time with useless thoughts. I need to get out of here tonight, but how? Gerbert didn’t give me much hope with the fuel... Maybe I could ask for a ride on the road? Or perhaps the pregnant lady sleeping in Bull Farm?

She’s stuck here as well, without fuel, the voice said. Besides, would you leave your car with your irresponsible brother? Remember what happened last time he drove your father’s truck.

That was another irrational thought. Mark was just a kid, and even his mother said, “Forgive your brother.” Besides, Mark didn’t need to drive the Jaguar, for John could send the insurance company to come and get it. That was a solid plan, and John just needed to walk on the road and wait for someone to hitchhike.

Are you that desperate to consider walking to the next city? The voice spoke again.

Yes, I am!

Something on John’s face must have called Mark’s attention, who interrupted the older brother. “Are you talking to someone?”

“Me? No one.” John sighed, and Mark lit another cigarette.

“Can I have one?” John asked, embarrassed about asking something from his brother that he didn’t have.

“Sure.” Mark handed him a bud and the lighter. They both took a long smoke. “You look tense.”

“I’m fine. It’s just here, with the trial and all.”

“Don’t worry, we will get out soon.”

John noticed the perfect opportunity to ask his brother to take care of his car until he could send the insurance to come and pick it up.

So, he took a long breath and said, “Maybe you could help me. I know we never saw eye to eye, but I wanted you to know that you are my brother, and I never forget that. Maybe after all this ends, we can be closer someway.”

“Yeah, sure.” Mark didn’t sound convinced.

“Can I trust you? Just stop counting the fucking bolts when I talk; it’s important. My trial is in nine days, my arraignment,” John said.

“Your what?”

“It means they will read my case in front of the judge; I will plead not guilty, and they will decide if my case goes to trial.”

“Are you not guilty?” Mark said.

“That’s not important. There are many players involved in this case, including some old clients. Being innocent doesn’t help me much. Mark,” John paused for dramatization purposes and said, “I’m in danger.”

“In danger?”

“Sure, I can lose my license and even go to jail, but my only chance is to cooperate with the police to catch this big criminal, an old client of mine. But if he finds out I’m looking for a deal, I’m dead,” John said.

“Oh my God, John, you represent big criminals?”

“That’s not the point?”

“Isn’t it? You just said you’re in danger. Besides, if this is only a divorce, you wouldn’t go to jail,” Mark said.

John weighed the words before answering.

“There’s more. I assaulted Amanda’s lawyer; I thought it was her lover.”

“You assaulted a person? What does that even mean?” Mark said.

“I punched a guy.”

“You punched a—”

“Hey, this is not important. The point is, I need your help; I need you to take care of my Jaguar while I walk to the next city. My insurance will come to pick the ca... you up.”

“What? What about Mom’s wish?”

“You need to help me, little brother. Mom would—”

“What?” Mark’s voice got loud.

Everyone in the backyard stopped to watch the discussion.

John got nervous with the exposition. “My life is at risk; your brother’s life should be more important to you than helping...” John whispered, “these clowns. It’s my life here, my reputation!”

“Excuse me?” Mark said.

John was losing again. Why was it so hard for him, such an eloquent lawyer, to convince people to help?

“I’m sorry. I just need your help. What do you want from me? I made a lot of mistakes. Is that what you want to hear? I mean, don’t you get it, we are alike! You did some shit too, right?”

“Let me see if I got this straight. I should help you because I’ve done some shit?” Mark threw the rest of his cigarette inside an empty box, lifting smoke and dirt.

“Look, I have no right to ask you any favor…” John said.

“You’re right, you have no right!” Mark said.

“I know. But it’s my life at risk here. I’m so desperate that I will walk hundreds of kilometers in the hot sun to fix this. I’m doing the hard part here; you’re welcome! You just need to stick around here doing... whatever you’re doing and wait. If you want, you can drive my car, okay? You keep asking! Win-win, you get to drive my baby if the fuel arrives before the insurance. What do you say?”

“Screw your stupid car! How do you have the courage to ask me anything? All these years, I’ve taken care of your mommy alone, paying her medical bills alone, while you wasted your life. How is this my problem? How is this Mom’s problem? She asked you to bring her ashes to the coast, and when the task becomes inconvenient, you bail. What the fuck, man?”

John stammered.

“Yeah, say nothing like you did all these years,” Mark said

“Mark, if you had any financial problems because of Mom, I could pay you all back, if that’s the problem,” John said.

“Do you think I work for you? Do you think you can wiggle your wallet, and everything will be okay? I don’t need you; I never needed you. Her bills are paid, everything is paid, tears and blood. That’s not the point. You think that if I drive that piece of shit of car you have, everything’s paid? Do you want me to wash it too, maybe put on some nice wax? Geez. You got to be kidding me. What about what you did to your mother? How you gonna pay that, John? No wonder your wife divorced you, you selfish son of a bitch.”

John wanted to fight back, but his nerves and tongue didn’t seem to collaborate. Mark, on the other hand, knew exactly what to say.

“What was more important to you than to be with your dying mother? Tell me why it was so hard to pick up your fancy cell phone and call her? She asked about you every fucking day and only stopped when she started to hallucinate, because she thought you were there. So just tell me, where were you?”

Mark would never understand what John went through, so there was no point in discussing it. John sighed and said, “I’m leaving tonight. Can you please take care of my car until help comes? I’ll pay you, just tell me how much.”

“You want to pay me?” Mark said.

“Yeah! Anything. I mean it. You sure look like you can use some extra bucks anyway, so I’ll be doing you a favor.”

Mark looked down with fists closed, trying to breathe. John realized that the argument was about to become physical.

Finally, Mark relaxed and spoke in a cold and hoarse voice.

“I hope you die in jail.”

“What did—”

Crack.

Screams.

A louder crack.

A big noise came from inside the church. Something was happening.

“What’s goin—?” Mark mumbled and looked around.

The people escaped from inside the church, screaming.

First came the priest, then Stephen.

Then Feit.

Then confusion.

And chaos.

John froze. He was a few meters from the backdoor when it happened, so he could see inside. The central pillar bent and cracked.

The tower collapsed, all the posts that held the ceiling snapped, and the holy church slowly collapsed.

Oh my God!

More screams.

There were still people inside, screaming. The metal junctions and bolts from the scaffolding bent and whooshed like a dying animal. Still, something seemed to hold the ceiling from collapsing.

Everything happened in less than ten seconds.

The dust rose high when the whole church became debris around what seemed to be the scaffolding still holding the weight.

John watched, horrified at the collapsing scene, coughing as the cloud of dust and sand saturated the air.

Then a silence came, more frightening than the sound of disaster.

The tension was palpable.

The air was a sand-colored blanket covering everyone’s eyes.

John couldn’t move, irrationally afraid that the church would collapse again if he moved.

Finally, a scream broke the silence. “Help! Someone help!”

The scream came from inside the wreck.

“There’re people still in there?!” Mark shouted and rushed into the wreck, unpacking the wood debris bare-handed.

The dust was settling, and John watched, paralyzed, as his brother and Jack Feit dug the wreck to save whoever was screaming inside. There was a big pile of debris where the scaffolding stood, probably where the people inside were trapped, but it was hard to reach it with all the trash around.

The scaffolding was the safe harbor until it wasn’t.

Woosh.

Crack.

With an agonizing scream, the platform collapsed.

No one screamed after that.

Silence and dust, this time denser and lasting.

Minutes passed; everyone was in silence. John could barely see the people’s faces.

When the air settled, John saw the cemetery where the mighty church skeleton stood.

“Who’s inside the wreck?” Mark shouted after the long pause.

“Where are Gerbert and Dylan?” someone said.

“They’re inside! Oh God, save us all!” the priest replied in a high pitch, desperate, praying with his head down.

Mark jumped on top of the wreck, coughing, cleaning the debris out of the way. The teens and Jack Feit started to help, but John couldn’t move; John was terrified.

What the fuck just happened?

Finally, a thought crossed John’s mind, and his despair reached its peak.

Gerbert is inside! Oh my God, who will help me get the fuel?

John got dizzy; everything started to turn. Trying to keep his head from spinning, John looked straight ahead and saw the priest, horrified. But right behind the priest, John saw something that made his blood cold: Stephen smiled, touched by a strange shadow behind his back.