"Gator A-GO-GO" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dorsey Tim)

Chapter Fifteen

NEW HAMPSHIRE

Snow fluttered.

Big, thick flakes clumped before they hit ground. Accumulation reached three inches on the steps of the Dimond Library. Inside, toasty and empty.

Only four students. Three on the main floor and another in archives.

Andy McKenna sat at a microfilm machine, researching an article for the student paper on plans to attach a full-scale plastic replica of the Old Man of the Mountain at the top of Franconia Notch.

His iPod earphones: “More than a feeling…”

He didn’t hear the door open behind him.

Several pairs of feet moved quietly across the carpet. Andy’s eyes stayed on the screen as he advanced the reel.

Feet moved closer. Fifteen yards, ten, five… the back of Andy’s head growing larger… four, three…

At the last second, Andy caught a reflection in the microfilm’s screen, but it was too late.

A thick forearm wrapped around his neck. Andy grabbed it with his hands, thrashing left and right, earbuds flying, feet kicking the ground.

No use.

A voice from over his shoulder: “Just accept it and this will go a lot easier.”

“Let go of me!”

The arm released.

Laughter. The three amigos: Joey, Doogie and Spooge.

Andy jumped up and grabbed his chest. “That wasn’t funny. You nearly scared me to death!”

More laughing.

“What’s this about?” asked Andy.

“A kidnapping. It’s futile to resist.”

“Leave me alone.” He sat again. “Got work to do.”

A hand reached down to the wall and unplugged the microfilm viewer. Andy’s head fell back with a deep sigh.

“Come on,” said Joey. “We have to get going before the snow’s too deep.”

“Going? I’m not going anywhere.”

Joey was the one with big forearms, thanks to the rowing team. “Guys?”

They snatched Andy under his arms.

“Okay, okay!” He jerked free. “Where are we going? If, that is, I agree.”

“Agreeing’s not part of it,” said Spooge. “Florida,” said Doogie. “Florida? I can’t go to Florida!”

“You don’t have a choice…”

“… Andy, it’s spring break!”

“… It’ll be wicked excellent!”

“Send me a postcard.” Andy reached for the electrical plug. He was blocked. Another sigh. “Besides, you have to go.”

“Why?”

“We used your credit card to reserve the room. You have to show picture ID at check-in.”

“Dang it!”

“Relax, we’ll pay it all back. You were the only one with a card, at least not over the limit.”

“This already sounds like a disaster.”

“We’re looking out for you. All this work isn’t healthy.”

“I can’t just leave. I’ve got too much to do.”

“That’s why this is a kidnapping. We knew you’d never come on your own.”

“But I’ll have to pack. It’ll make you late.”

A smiling face. Joey raised a gym bag and backpack. “All taken care of.”

“You broke into my room?”

“You’ll thank us someday.”

“But I don’t have my cell phone.”

“It’s spring break.”

“What about my fish?”

“We’ll call Jason from the road.”

“My dad will be worried.”

“We’ll call him, too.”

“I don’t know…”

“Andy, be spontaneous for once.”

Outside, three sedans parked in a fire zone. Agents bounded up library steps.

“This is crazy,” said Andy. “I should have my head examined.”

“Now you’re talking!”

An elevator opened on the ground floor. Agents rushed inside. The doors closed as the next elevator opened and four students got out.

“This is going to be wicked excellent!”

PANAMA CITY BEACH

Coleman was down for the count, leaving Serge on solo night patrol. He reached a bend in the sidewalk and focused his camcorder on three cheerful youths waving homemade posters.

“Oooooooh,” Serge said with delight, lowering his camera. “Free pancakes!”

He walked over.

“Howdy! I’m Serge!”

“Hi, Serge. Want a free pancake breakfast?”

“But it’s night.”

“That’s when all the kids eat breakfast. Soaks up alcohol.”

“What’s the catch?”

“There is no catch.”

“There’s always a catch.”

“Why don’t you come inside with us?”

Serge followed and was soon seated in a church activities room. On the table in front of him: the largest pile of pancakes the volunteer group had ever seen anyone assemble.

Three sparkling kids pulled out chairs and joined him. They didn’t have pancakes.

Serge, chewing: “Great breakfast. Deeeeeeeeelicious!”

“It’s Serge, right?”

He nodded and stuck a fork in his mouth.

“Serge, have you ever heard of the one true living God?”

“Of course,” said Serge. “He’s like a household name.”

“Are you saved?”

“That’s a long story.”

They handed him inspirational pamphlets.

Serge smiled. “Knew there was a catch.”

“No catch. It’s the path to redemption.”

“Fair enough,” said Serge, setting his fork on the plate. He leaned back and folded his arms. “You gave me a great meal, I can at least listen. But if this turns into a time-share thing, I can’t guarantee your safety.”

“It’s not.”

“Then give me your best shot.”

The trio took turns effervescently sharing the marvelous change in their lives. A pastor circulated through the room, hands clasped behind his back. He smiled at the youths around Serge’s table doing the Lord’s work. The kids finished their pitch.

“Impressive,” said Serge. “Sounds like you got quite a program there. Unfortunately, no sale. I already have my own program.”

“You belong to a religion?”

Serge returned to his food. “Absolutely.”

“Which denomination?”

“My own.”

“What do you mean your own?”

“So far I’m the only member. But it cuts printing costs for the monthly bulletin.”

“Your religion can’t have just one member.”

“Why not?”

“It’s… you just can’t.”

“Every religion started with only one person.” Pouring syrup. “Even yours.”

“No, it didn’t-”

One of the others nudged his friend and whispered, “Actually, it did.” He turned to Serge. “So what is your religion?”

“Well,” said Serge, digging in his fork again, “it’s an awful lot like yours, except with massive confusion.”

“Confusion?”

“I question everything. And I’m still totally baffled. Which only makes my faith stronger-God’s so incredible, he’s beyond comprehension!”

“You’re devoutly baffled?”

“All questions, all the time! And as the lack of answers mounts, the infiniteness of the Almighty swells in my soul. People who claim to know his every last thought in order to bully others are just shortchanging his omnipotence. Like politicians who say, ‘Pay no attention to our performance on the economy. Look! Over there! Gay people are trying to get married! ’”

“But homosexuality is a sin against God. Says so in the Bible.”

“That’s what I thought, too,” said Serge. “But it just didn’t jibe. So I took another look at Genesis…”

“You know Genesis?”

“And Nehemiah, Ezra, Proverbs, Lamentations-one of my favorites, hilarious subtext, but I can’t read it on airplanes, where people get upset with laughing fits. The whole book’s a classic.”

“You read the whole Bible?”

“Couple times. And you know how in Genesis, Lot’s the only good guy in the twin cities, Sodom and Gomorrah. These two male angels come to stay with him. Apparently they’re lookers. Think Matt Damon and Ben Affleck in Dogma. And these people from his street bang on Lot’s door, wanting him to let the houseguests out so they can have gay sex. Now Lot’s always been an accommodating neighbor, but this ain’t no potluck dinner. They argue back and forth, going nowhere. So, finally, in an attempt to show that sex with girls is much more fun and convert them to heterosexuality, Lot offers to turn over his two underage, virgin daughters for gang rape.”

“It doesn’t say that!”

“Let me see your Bible.” Serge executed a perfect sword drill, finding chapter nineteen in seconds. He turned the book around, slid it back across the table and tapped verse eight.

Three youths crowded over the page. “It does say that. But how can it be?”

“Because God blessed us with curiosity. Read it with an open mind and you realize it’s actually a brilliant satire on homophobia. Think as an individual: The Lord doesn’t want a train pulled on little kids. It’s like reading Swift’s Modest Proposal and thinking he really wants to eat babies. What the Bible’s trying to say is we’re all his children. But if you take Lot’s story literally, well, nice family values, eh? But that’s just my interpretation, which I’m now questioning. I could be way off.”

The youths got up and went over to their pastor.

“I think we’ve been wrong about gay people…”

“… They’re fellow children of God.”

At the next table, a homeless midget in a crash helmet spread whipped butter.

The youths returned.

Serge smiled. “Looked like your preacher was telling you to stay on message.”

“Do you realize the only path to righteous glory-”

Serge took another bite. “Let’s talk about evolution…”