Page 13 of Night Blind

“Oh,” Helen said, looking at her cousin, who didn’t seem surprised. “And the working with Naomi, is that your natural parenting instincts based on your parents?”

The conversation she wanted to have been long overdue for them all. He was reluctant to have the talk but now was as good of time as any to clear the air to help them both understand. In his dating life, he had never reached a point of divulging the family business, and he honestly never expected to share his life with anyone who needed to know all the details. These two women did, and in the end, or at the end of his spiel, he expected the same from them.

“My father, Uncle Joe, and Samuel Johnson all grew up together and went to the same church, which was pastored byReverend Robert Johnson, who was Samuel’s father, and we called him Uncle Sammy,” Slow said, rising to make himself a hot cider. “Uncle Sammy had, or rather is succeeded by his son Brody, who lives in Pennsylvania now, and a daughter Elsa, who lives in Florida.”

Helen leaned forward in the seat, her eyes darting occasionally to her cousin, who had no facial expression to what he was telling them were tidbits of information that would be relevant to them at some point. She’d learned that about Slow. He only provided enough information to connect two points. The straight line in between the points, he walked with careful steps.

“Uncle Sammy, when he became pastor, took over the Summer Camps for foster kids, and during those summers, me, Rebecca, Zeke, Gabe, Bleu, Brody, and Elsa, became camp counselors,” he said. “Some of those kids weren’t right, and could never be right, and others, well, could be trained.”

He said the last part, looking at Cherry. His gaze then went to Helen. “We learned, through our summer camp program, that there were Christian settlements in Ohio and Kentucky that were less than legit. Many of those camps were breeding grounds for cults, which of course preyed on young girls and single mothers. In the back of all of our minds, we have a soft spot for single moms because we know what is out there.”

His eyes again went to Helen. “We understood, better than most, many times, a mother would sacrifice a daughter to keep a roof over their heads and food on the table.”

Cherry dropped her head, not wanting to make eye contact with her husband or her cousin. Slow had more to say, and when the time came for her to speak, she would, but until she was asked or prompted, she had nothing to contribute to his lesson and attempt to educate them on very important details.

“Some of those kids, Gabriel was able to help,” Slow said. “You see, he saw patterns in the behaviors of the cults, what they looked for in members, and accurately predicted where the next cells would pop up. He gained the attention of The Company in Langley, who offered him the world. In exchange, they paid for his education. He has a ThD in Divinity.”

Helen frowned, trying to understand where Slow was going with this. She opened her mouth, only to be halted by Cherry, who placed her finger to her lips. Helen knew this meant to stay quiet.

“Although he is ordained, his skillsets proved useful in infiltrating another organization out of Chicago, also called The Company, lowercase letters for the title, run by Michael Kurtzwilde,” he said. “From that company, Gabriel was also recruited by the Cavalcade of Angels, giving him a source of income from many streams that he used to create his own specialized team.”

Slow returned to the couch, intentionally sitting away from Cherry, facing both his wife and her cousin. He sighed deeply, wanting to stop, but knowing he needed to continue. Helen needed to understand and Cherry was owed his back story. Until now, she had no idea how he’d become a Technician nor why. The why was as important as the job itself.

“With the backing of the government, plus funding to clean the cobwebs and balance the books from Uncle Sam’s Summer Houses, several of those kids who came through that summer camp were sent to college on the government’s dime,” Slow said, “and in return, they went to work for The Company.”

Cherry spoke, “Do I know any of these students?”

“Yes,” he said, pointing to himself. “One Way, Wrong Way, Mr. Merge, and Falling Rocks. Reverend Johnson’s son is Mr. Yield. The Mann is Kurtzwilde’s son, and Mr. Exit was thebrother-in-law of The Glitter Man, a monster he inadvertently made while trying to protect his sister.”

“And like wow,” Cherry said, leaning forward.

“Stop and Hump belonged to Kurtzwilde, as well as Exit, who was sent to The Company by The Archangel; however, Hump worked more for Beauty, who in turn, tried to sell her to The Collector once she began adding up pieces that didn’t fit,” he said, looking at Helen. “It fell through. Hump is not only deadly, she is a bit mentally left of center but loyal and trustworthy. Beauty is dead, courtesy of a favor called in by Hump via a South American Drug Czar known as a Viper, and don’t ask. She called in the favor owed to her by a deadly Viper whom I think had dinner here at this table with me, Yield, and The Archangel. All I know is, a few days later, Beauty was dead. The Collector, at losing his chance at claiming Hump as his Black Doll, somehow happened upon Shenita and collected her instead.”

Helen leaned forward. “Shenita got away from him,” she said, referring to her former self in the third person.

“Shenita is still with him,” Slow corrected. “The thing the Archangel understands more than most is the nature of people. Working with those kids in the summertime, he, as well as most of us, learned that without purpose, the patterns of behavior continue. Women who are sexually abused choose men who treat them the same way. Poor people, even when given money, splurge on stupid shit because they expect every blessing to be taken away, not understanding the need to break the cycle.”

“Is that what you’re doing, Michael Isaac Neary, helping us break the cycle?” Helen asked her tongue in her cheek.

“I don’t know, Helen; have we broken the cycle?” he asked, also leaning forward, his hands resting on his knees. “Have we broken the cycle of the scared woman always afraid to fight, to speak up, fight back, stand up against the bully? Or did TheCollector see in you what others saw and wanted to dominate and control you with simple acts of oppressive aggression?”

Helen popped to her feet. Slow had hit a nerve, and she wasn’t going to stand for it. It infuriated her to no end how he dared make such a sweeping generalization. He didn’t know her. He didn’t know her story or anything about her life.

“You don’t know me! I did fight! I fought that bastard, and I got free. I’m going back to save those women, and I fought that fucker!”

Slow bound to his feet, slamming down the mug, and took three steps towards Helen, his chest puffed up, his fists balled into meaty hammers of punishment, and she shrank. She shrank back into the chair and nearly curled into a ball. The child inside the woman still ached with loneliness and fear. The innocence was taken from her in the middle of the night and then used as a weapon against her she wore upon her chest like a badge. He could see it. Men could see it and almost smell the fear inside of her. The adult woman smelled of the need to be loved. She reeked of the desire to be needed and cherished for whatever modicum of affection doled out. Twice, she’d asked him what she feared, yet also secretly wanted. He wasn’t that kind of man. He stood over her, intimidating the woman.

Cherry was also on her feet; a weapon, he knew she had in the couch remained nestled between the pillows, but she was prepared to use her body as a shield between her husband and her cousin. Her eyes were wide with anger, daring him to make a move toward Helen, and in one move, she would reach between the pillows, if need be, to bring the dog to her heel, but Slow changed the tactic on her.

Michael Neary dropped to his knees in front of Helen. The fisted hands came together as if he were about to pray. His eyes were on his wife.

“This cycle stops now,” he told them both. “Helen will learn to protect herself and walk through this world like a woman of purpose. Abigail will no longer have to put her life on hold to serve as a protector for her cousin because in less than three months Helen is going to be a badass, not scared or shrinking in the presence of a man with more power over her. Sit up, Helen. The time of cowering is over.”

He got to his feet, collected his mug, and bid them goodnight. Helen was no longer balled up in the chair, but her eyes were focused on her cousin. She knew the look. The look scared the shit out of her.

Tears welled in her eyes as she asked the question, “If he’d touched me, Abi, would you have?”

“More than likely, yes,” Abi said, looking at Helen, and the moment of doubt flickered in her eyes. The same concerns she had, her cousin also worried about. They never talked about any of the things that brought them to this point. More than likely, they never would.

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