Page 67 of Vanish From Sight
His gaze honed in on the most famous of them all which showed the creation of Adam. It was an iconic scene, one of God depicted as a muscular bearded man stretching out his hand to touch the hand of a reclining Adam. The fingers of the two almost touched, symbolizing the very moment when God breathed life into Adam and gave him the spark of divinity.
“From the first time I laid eyes on it, I knew I had to have it in my home,” Ed said. “A masterpiece of Renaissance art that tells the story of humanity’s creation and fall from grace. And oh, how we have fallen. Of course, we don’t like to think that we have. Not us. No. But we have.”
“That’s great,” Ray muttered, still trying to crawl his way back to the land of the living. Vague fleeting memories of the previous evening flickered through his mind. Dark thoughts that at the time he felt could only be solved by removing himself.
“You know, I often wonder, is humanity the fallen angels? You know — the ones who at one time were angels but pissed off the big fella so much that he gave them their marching orders. Of course, we couldn’t entertain that thought. It’s so much easier to think that we are separate from the horrors of this world, as we quickly align ourselves with the good. And yet what we have done right?” He paused. “Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”
“What?”
“Are we the light denying our darkness and trying to find our way back?”
His words were too much for Ray. His head was pounding from an intense hangover from all the alcohol he’d consumed prior to his leap into the gorge, most of which he could barely remember. “Do you have an Advil?”
“Hang tight. I have something better.”
Ray glanced off and saw the blurry looking old man shuffling over to a cabinet as he continued to talk. His gaze bounced to a modest kitchen, well equipped with everything that was needed to whip up a hearty meal. The countertops were thick durable wood, and there were all manner of pots, pans and utensils hanging over an island which was surrounded by mismatched chairs. “So, who do you owe money to?” Glasses clinked. He heard the slosh of liquid.
“What?” Ray replied.
“Money. Debts. Loan sharks. If life isn’t working, it usually boils down to money,” he said as he returned holding a glass full of red liquid. “Get that down you. A Bloody Mary. Always does the job.” He stuck it under his nose and Ray felt his gag reflex kick in. He turned his head away, groaning.
“I’ll pass.”
“Don’t be silly. Get it down you. You’ll feel as right as rain in twenty minutes.”
“Thanks, but no.”
“Suit yourself.” The old-timer chugged it back in one gulp and returned to his seat.
Ray glanced around the cabin. The rustic wooden walls were adorned with hunting trophies and antique pieces, including an old bear trap and a pair of mounted antlers. The floor was a polished hardwood, covered in a soft, plush rug that was the image of the American flag. The guy’s choice of décor was eclectic to say the least.
The leather sofa and two armchairs were arranged around a stone fireplace. Further down the hall he could see into a study where there were bookshelves filled to the brim with what he could only imagine was classic literature, adventure novels and survival guides. There was a large, weathered map of the region hanging above a computer desk.
“Where’s my brother?” Ray asked.
“At work, I believe,” Ed said, returning the glass to the cabinet. “Besides the hangover, how are you feeling?”
“Like a steamroller went over me.”
“I expect so. You know the problem with your generation?”
He groaned, rubbing his eyes. “No. But I expect you’re going to tell me,” Ray said as he swung his legs off the edge of the sofa and the world turned on its axis bringing the old-timer into view.
“Too soft. Too self-centered. Always looking for someone to stroke your head and tell you it’s going to be okay. Well maybe it’s not. Maybe you won’t get that caramel latte with whipped cream when you order it. Maybe life doesn’t hand out gold stars for using your damn brain cells. And maybe you’ll have to deal with the consequences of your own choices. Too bad. You see in my day, if we came home with our legs attached to our ass, it was a good fucking day. We didn’t have time for the bullshit you all get wrapped up in. So come on. Whose pooch did you screw?”
“None of your damn business.”
“Au contraire, mon frere. The moment your brother dragged your ass in here, it became my business. You see, since I’ve been associated with you Sutherlands, I’ve learned fast that your clan are like a bad dream. I’ve been threatened, beaten over the head, and if that wasn’t bad enough, I’ve had to endure listening to you snore for the past sixteen hours. Now if trouble is going to show up at my door, I’d like to know one good reason why I shouldn’t hand over your ass to them on a platter.”
“I’m a cop.”
“Obviously not a smart one.”
Ray glared at him. He didn’t have the strength to argue. “You think I could get some coffee and Advil?”
Ed eyed him through a suspicious gaze. “You’re in luck. I poured one only ten minutes ago. Or is that considered not fresh enough?” He was being sarcastic.
“That will do fine.”
