Page 4 of Night Blind

“Baby, it’s for you,” he said, returning to the dining area.

In the last few months, his home had undergone a transformation. There were doll babies in his home office and crayons on the coffee table, and recently, he’d found a lacy tiny sock in his briefcase when he went to work. The desk in his office, which had once held an empty picture frame, currently held a family photo of him, his parents, and his sister, along with Cherry, Helen, and his daughter Naomi. A second frame held a photo of his beautiful wife, holding their daughter, and a third frame was of him doing story time with Naomi, which was taken when he wasn’t looking, but captured a feeling he appreciated, so he gave it a place of honor on his desk away from home. One additional photo sat on his desk of Cherry and him in a pile of leaves in the backyard. This photo was taken by Helen.

“Perhaps a tracker?” he said to himself, thinking of what job he’d train her to do. She must have overheard him talking aloud as she approached him silently. The oil used in her hair gave off a distinct odor, and he always knew where she was, even if he couldn’t physically see the body.

“May I ask a question?” Helen asked.

“Of course,” he replied.

“The fax machine…I never looked before because she told me not to,” Helen started, “so I didn’t, but can you help me understand?”

“The fax machine sends over work orders,” he told her. “They arrive on special paper, printed with ink used by the government which disappears from the paper in ten minutes.”

“Wait, what if the fax comes through when you’re not home?”

“Faxes only arrive when they know you’re home and close by the machine,” he explained. “The device I gave you serves more than one function. Don’t use it until instructed to do so.”

“The phone tracks me. What if I lose the phone?”

He lowered his voice, “When your training is complete and you’re awarded a designation, you get a brand with a chip in it.”

Slow turned, opening his collar. At the base of his neck was a branded cross. In the center of the cross sat a raised medallion. He pointed to the medallion.

“My handler monitors the chip when I am working,” he said.

Her eyes were wide as she began to realize several things. “Will you be my handler?”

“I am your mentor,” he told her. “My job is to teach and train you. If the training takes, then you shall be assigned to a handler.”

“Meaning I have to leave here, my cousin, Naomi…you…your protection?” she asked, feeling emotionally overloaded.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” he advised. “As a Technician, we are in control of our emotions at all times. We think, assess, monitor, and evaluate each situation before taking any action. The same philosophy is applied to our lives. Until recently, the lives of Technicians were solitary; however, it has been observedthat we work better having something to come home to when the work is done.”

“When the work is done,” she scoffed. “You say it as if you’re going to rake the leaves in the yard when you go out and take lives.”

“Are you going to feel the same way when you are face to face with The Collector again, or are you going to end his existence and then go get a milkshake?”

“I’m going to get a slice of pie with a hot cup of coffee with the blood from his cut-off cock still on my hands,” she said, squinting.

“Yeah, we need to get started in the morning helping you focus that anger,” he said. “And that is dark. Very dark. Monsters are created in the dark. I will not train a monster, Helen.”

Her response was cut off by Cherry’s entrance, dressed in all black and carrying her work bag. On the floor in his office was a retractable door that housed their weaponry. Helen was able to see this in full for the first time as Cherry extracted her rifle, two knives, and her handgun with ammunition. She loaded her bag, passed out kisses, and left through the back door.

Helen looked at Slow. “You’re not going to say anything to her before she leaves?”

“And distract her from the focus required to handle the task she’s been given? No, I won’t. She knows we are here waiting for her return. Cherry has to go to work. you know the routine; you know the process,” he said.

“True, but I don’t like it, never have, and never will,” Helen added, “but we support with love.”

“We support with love,” he repeated.

*****

In his lap, as he sat on the couch, Naomi rested. He opened the book to begin reading a new series to her since they’dcovered most of the fairy tales. Slow had moved up the nightly reading to a chapter book, wanting to increase the mental engagement of the words to imagery in the child’s mind. They were nearing bedtime as Helen prepared to head to her home.

“Good night,” Helen said, coming from Noami’s room after putting away laundry for the child. No one had asked her to take on the task, but it was a small thing she enjoyed doing for her little niece.

“Night-night, Aunt Nita,” Naomi said.

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