Second Coming: Chapter 12

The man plopped down on my couch as soon as he was inside. I dragged my bags after me and shoved them into the hall, making sure to keep myself in view of the man. He kicked off his dirty sneakers and pulled out a laptop from his bag, which he stretched across his lap. I dragged a chair from my kitchen table and sat it across from him while he clicked away at the track-pad. “Do you… have a name?”

“One sec.” He said without missing a beat, not looking away from the screen. His eyes were focused with brow furrowed. Next, he took out his phone and stared into the screen while panning the back about my room. “Good, good, there are no signs of any strange signals or signs of a camera about. We’re okay to talk.”

I peered about the room. “Cameras? I should hope not.”

“What were you saying now?” He butted in, ignoring the query about his nonsense.

I sat up and finally caught his attention. “Your name?”

“Andrew,” He replied curtly. “That’s all you need to know.”

“Okay, Andrew.” I began, hoping to avoid provoking something out of the man. “Let’s see what sort of video you have.”

He held his finger to the air as if to silence me. “Remember what I said, that if I am not reimbursed, I will go public with this footage.  I’m assuming you’re prepared to either pay up or accept the consequences of that?”

“I’ve dealt with the many consequences so far from accepting this position, my friend.” I hummed.

“Then-” Andrew began, twisting the laptop around to face me, “feast your eyes.”

The video began to play. The drone footage began with the camera among a patch of clover somewhere in the grass of the park, assumed near the plaza. As the RC aircraft climbed up shakily, I was able to see the familiar streets and paths of the downtown area. Andrew’s face was still plastered with a self-assured look as the video dragged on, looking at nothing in particular. Then I saw it, the car-filled streets, and crowds of people- those who were there at the rally that morning.

Somewhere in the miniature-looking plaza was Joseph, myself, and the family. The footage went to fuzz for a short moment, and the flash of light glared into the lens. The red brick of the plaza ended up washed out in light, and above it, a wide flying disk, producing the light. Just as quickly as it appeared, it disappeared again, leaving only a parted crowd with the sole figure of the man standing in the center.

Andrew paused the video. “Did you see it?” He said, clicking back through the timeline. The image he paused on revealed the blurry, circular shape.

“I do see, but what is it exactly?” I pondered, leaning in closer to the screen.

“Not the gates of heaven, I can promise you that.” Andrew said smugly, taking the screen back toward himself.

“And so…?” I replied, sitting myself back. “What does that mean, then?”

The Asian man sat back and shut the computer. “Means enough to enough people that your employer might have a hard time convincing people with his nonsense.”

I sighed and looked up at the ceiling. I remembered suddenly the paycheck in my pocket, and pulled it out, double-checking the amount that Joseph had scribed out for me. It was likely several times over what would have kept the drone man quiet, but I couldn’t help but imagine the following few months of twiddling my thumbs that working under The Pastor would have in store for me.

There was a sudden knock at the door. Andrew was immediately at attention. “Who’s here? Did you call someone?”

“Call someone when? Uh… I’m not expecting anyone. It’s probably the landlord, or maintenance guy…”

Andrew shoved his toes into the floor sneakers and stood. “Which way is your back door?”

“I don’t have one,” I stated, preparing myself to look through the peephole.

Andrew hissed under his breath, “Don’t answer that just yet,” as he packed up his backpack. “Any windows big enough?”

“Not with all the crap you’re carrying around.” I concluded, glancing out. There was nobody in view of the peephole, and I cautiously undid the lock. As soon as the door was open a crack, so did intrude the black dress-shoe.

“Jude Jackson, it’s in your best interest to allow us inside.”

Andrew scuffled down the hall as I carefully allowed the door to come open. The pair of secret-service men stepped in, one after the other. One barred my exit, while the other went after Andrew. I stared at the first man as he mumbled into the headset on his collar.

“What the hell is with this apartment, no back door?” Andrew called out from one of the back rooms in a huff. A few moments later, he was being led by the agent back out to the front room. He glared at me and was forced back to his seat on the couch.

My pocket buzzed with an incoming call. The screen read blocked number, and the first agent nodded at me to answer it. “Hello?”

The voice of the lead agent spoke to me. “Jude, interesting situation we have here.”

“Is this… Agent Barth?”

“Put me on speaker, please.”

I complied and indicated so. “Go ahead.”

“Here’s the deal,” He began, addressing the room. “Andrew Wang. You’ll turn over the footage you have and delete any backups.”

“Why should I?” The Asian man huffed, sitting up.

“Or else you’ll be fined with flying your drone in restricted airspace and charged with blackmail. Evading an officer too, it seems.”

“Yes, sir.” Andrew whimpered.

I cleared my throat to reinforce my presence. “Barth, how did you…”

“We rooted and tapped your phone, Mr. Jackson. You shouldn’t leave it sitting about while you head off to the bathroom.”

Andrew huffed and looked at me puzzled. “What do you do in the bathroom if you don’t have your phone?”

I sent a disgusted glare his way. “I use the toilet and leave. Bringing your phone to the bathroom is gross.”

The Asian man clicked his tongue. “To each his own.”

“Gentlemen.” Barth hissed over the phone. “Mr. Wang, one of my associates here will be getting the video file from you and making sure that you don’t have any more copies about. Mr. Jackson, off speaker, please?”

I frowned but did what he said. I trotted back to my bedroom while thinking of what to say next. “Agent… I find this whole situation an invasion of my privacy.”

“It got us something we can use, Mr. Jackson.” Barth declared.

“Something the secret service can use? How exactly?”

“Come now, you should be well aware that we’re not actually with the secret service. And I know you know by now that Mr. Cumming’s campaign partner is not who everyone believes he is.”

Second Coming: Chapter 12

Agent Barth followed me up the stairs and to the guest room. As I opened up my laptop, I noticed the agent closing the door behind us. “We’re… they’re going to think something is up… something strange is going on if it’s just us two closed away.”

Barth shut the door with the handle twisted, making sure not to make a sound. He took a step in, his black socks with toe-holes sliding silently across the carpet. He whispered, hands in pockets, ”something is up.”

“Well, no doubt about that,” I said lowly with a shrug, pulling open the old file. “At least you’re admitting it now too.”

Barth let out a low grumble and cross his arms. “I’ve said too much. Just let me see it.”

I glanced at him, then to the play button on the video. It was the same as I had seen plenty of times, and the same that had been cut down to go on the social media sites. I kept taking a few glances out of the corner of my eye at the agent, who’s eyes were locked to the screen. After it played all the way through and began to loop, Barth stood back up. “So, that wasn’t edited, the videos you put up.”

“Just… to make it shorter. Size limit on some sites, you know…”

Barth let out a grunt. “I see. That’s all I needed to know. If you are heading on the road tomorrow, drive safe.”

“Of… of course.” I blabbered, watching as the agent awkwardly slithered back out of the room, checking the second-floor hallway for the family members.

The next morning, after allowing a slight bit of time to sleep in, I was given the keys to the teenage girl’s car and a blessing for safety on my journey, not to mention a personal check from Joseph himself, calling it my earned pay. The amount certainly wasn’t anything to scoff at.

The bug was pistachio green as described, and just barely big enough for myself and my suitcase of belongings. Just before noon I pulled down the driveway and out the gate to a farewell of waves and stares from Secret Service agents. The little round vehicle was squirrelly- an adjective I had always heard from my father’s mouth- but well maintained and smooth driving. Just as small as the car was, so seemed was its gas tank. About half-way home, I had to pull into a gas station to fill up. At that point, I decided to call home just to warn my parents about my return.

“Yello?” My father’s voice came through from the home’s landline.

“Hey, I’m on my way back to Tallahassee.”

“Jude?” His voice instantly brightened, and he shouted away from the speaker. “Hey, momma, it’s Jude, on his way back. Hey, boy, you haven’t gotten fired?” he added, voice low.

“No… just getting some time off.”

Somewhere from one of their other handsets about their house, my mom picked up. “Jude, honey, we’ve been looking on TV, every one of the rallies, for you.”

I sighed and listened to the gas pump click as it topped off the minuscule tank. “Well, I’ve been working behind the scenes. Hey, I just wanted to say I’ll be stopping by to pick up my mail key again, so you won’t have to worry about my rent for the end of the month here.”

“Oh, speakin’ of that.” My mom spoke up. “Last time I was there, there was a guy- Asian fella- looking about the front of your complex.”

“For me, specifically?”

My father clicked his tongue. “I said I didn’t trust him.”

My mother sighed. “Said he was looking for the man working for The Pastor.”

“I see…” I hummed, putting away the gas nozzle. “And did you tell him anything?”

“Well, no, but…” My mother muttered. “He was there the second time I was back.”

“Hum…” I concluded. “Well, you won’t need to go back to my place and worry about him.”

I heard a grunt as if my father was sitting up from his old lazy-boy. “If he is there… well, there are plenty of ways to deal with crazies.”

“I know, pops.”

When I finally arrived back in Tallahassee, I had a quick meet with my parents but was only looking forward to seeing my own place and using my own facilities again for the first time in several weeks. By the time I was pulling into the parking spot, I had forgotten about the man my parents had spoken of on the phone.

Not a second that I had my foot through the door, I heard a call. The voice was from an Asian man about my age- short, uncombed hair, wearing glasses. “Hey, you, gimme a second, okay?”

I tossed down my suitcase inside the door before shutting it back up. “Can I help you with something?” I asked, putting on the most unwelcoming image I could conjure.

“You’re back, huh?” He said, approaching, eyes moving back and forth about the other doors of the apartment complex.

“I don’t know who you are, or how you can assume how long I’ve been gone.”

“You’re the guy working for Joseph Cummings, aren’t you?” He said, flashing a grin between heavy breaths of excitement or possibly exhaustion.

“And what if I told you that I was?”

“That guy isn’t who you think it is.”

I repeated the young man’s words in my head a few times. “You’re talking about… Joseph… or?”

“Nah, he’s legit, as legit you want to call anyone trying to preach about make-believe nonsense.”

I frowned and sighed, but the young man seemed unable to read my body language. “Okay, well, I just got home, and…”

“It’s that Jesus guy!” He said, waving his hands in the air with an energy I didn’t expect from someone of his comportment. “I mean you can believe what you want… but think about it… there’s no way!”

“No way what?”

“I can explain, of course. Can I come in?”

“No.”

The Asian man pouted his lips, showing off tiny wisps of dark facial hair. “I was flying a drone that day, near the plaza. Took some pretty good footage. If you don’t want me to go public with it, and destroy your campaign, you’ll need to pay me… in excess of… a thousand dollars.”

“A drone, as in one of those remote-controlled helicopter-bladed things that buzz around in the air?”

“You won’t believe what you’ll see,” He said with a teasing tone. “I can show you and the whole world that your Jesus is none other than a fake!”

I yanked the door back open and waved a hand for him to head inside. “Believe me, I’ve been thinking the same thing for a long time, brother. If you’ve got something good, I want to see it.”

The Asian man blinked at me a few times but headed inside without any other suspicion.

Second Coming: Chapter 11

After Oklahoma and the long marathon of rallies, Joseph decided that we should return home. “Jude, thank you for supporting me all this time. Your help and research have been invaluable, even if I haven’t been able to make use of all of it. Once we’re back, if you need to head back to Tallahassee to handle some more affairs, you just do that.”

I agreed with Joseph that I would do that, but my car didn’t seem to feel the same way. On a humid road in northern Mississippi, the engine compartment began to rumble, and then smoke. After calling for a tow and loading up my belongings into the RV, we began again, with me sitting in the narrow kitchenette facing the man. “It’s all part of the plan,” The Pastor shouted back from the driver’s seat.

I blinked at the man while leaning at the table. “I suppose so. Hey… I don’t suppose you stay abreast of his… your father’s plans? His calendar? You might have told me that I was low on coolant.”

The long-haired holy man tilted his head at me. “I can’t say I can, Jude.”

“Well, I suppose its chocked full and hard to keep track of, his plans,” I replied.

“Are you talking to me, Jude?” Joseph shouted back.

“Nah, just thinking out loud…” I said, trying to not look into the man’s steady gaze.

“Well, keep it up,” The Pastor shot back, “that’s what I hired you for- for your ideas and plans to keep us moving.”

While taking the well-deserved rest from all the driving, I finally had a chance to notice how our followers were faring, and how many of them there were. As we headed back to the panhandle town Joseph called home, I couldn’t help notice that the other vehicles heading the same way along the country highway were all newer models, while those either going the opposite way or passing the slow-moving RV were the well-weathered sort. More so, many of them had registration-exempt plates. My suspicions were confirmed as the cars followed us right up to the front gates of the Cummings estate. There was already a collection of Suburbans and a dark van sitting outside.

“We get our own Secret Service followers even at home,” Joseph remarked as he unbuckled himself after parking in the spot.

Agent Barth was already outside to greet us but seemed to be preoccupied with the headset attached to his person. “We’ve arrived at home base, perimeter checks out fine,” he paused, taking his fingers from his ear. “Welcome back, Mr. Cummings and family.”

I watched Joseph interact with the agent as I helped Sharon and her daughter start to bring down the luggage from the cab. “Well, you move fast as well, don’t you?”

“As our duty insists, Mr. Cummings.”

“I’d usually be more than happy to open my home to you, but as far as sleeping arrangements go, my home here only has so many beds.”

“That won’t be necessary, Mr. Cummings. Only I and a few others will be remaining after today,” Barth explained. “And we will not be requiring any significant amount of your facilities.”

Sharon caught on to the conversation and joined her husband. “Well, I can’t let you stay here without offering a home-cooked meal. Of course, we’ll have to stop by the store, we’ve barely been home over this last month. I… don’t need one of you to follow me there, will I?”

“No, ma’am, that won’t be necessary.”

“Thank you dear.” Joseph nodded at his wife.

Sharon tugged on her husband’s arm to pull him in close enough for a kiss on the cheek. “We should get going then, huh? It’s already this late. Jess, you want to come with?”

I feigned that I had properly been doing work rather than eavesdropping, and continued to haul in the sloppily-packed luggage. After settling into the guest room, I decided to take a look at social media just to get a read on current events, but rather I found myself being called awake sometime later with a knock on the door and the call for dinner.

Agent Barth did, silently and uncomfortably, join us for the meal. That night it was barely seasoned baked chicken, but at that moment, it was just slightly better than the drive-through and frozen food we had been consuming over the past week. Joseph, like always, was the first to start up a conversation after the saying of grace. “Well, Jude, your car likely has a couple days in the shop, but I suppose you want to get home sooner than that, don’t you?”

I finished my bite of food before responding. “…hmm, well, I did give my mom my keys so she can get my mail and bills, but I don’t want to worry about my rent if I can avoid it. I didn’t see a Wells Fargo here in town, but… there’s still a few days.”

“No fancy banks like that in these parts.” Sharon interjected.

I shrugged. “Well, I’ll just have to wait and see about my car once they have a look at it.”

“Dad-” Jess spoke up suddenly. “Can’t he borrow the bug?”

Joseph swallowed. “Well, that’s very selfless of you, Jess. I don’t know how Jude would feel in such a car, though.”

“I couldn’t-”

“I can’t see anything wrong with it,” Sharon said pensively. “It’s just a pistachio green bug, and quite nice to drive. Jess doesn’t need it right now, and after all, I think you deserve it, Jude, after how much we’ve put you through. Joseph, it’s about payday for the boy too.”

Joseph wiped his mouth and sat back, looking to me and then his wife. “If you need it, you can take it, Jude. We’ll show you it tomorrow morning if you want to get out early.”

I nodded, not sure if I was prepared to voice my agreement. “If I absolutely need it… thank you.”

After dinner ended and the table was cleared, I stayed downstairs to catch the news on the TV while the others went about their own activities. Agent Barth appeared suddenly in the room while my attention was on the tickers and headlines. His black blazer was draped across his arm, but his ear-piece was still in. “Jude Jackson,” he said while looking to me, standing just at the edge of the screen.

“Can… I help you?” I asked warily, decreasing the volume.

“If you plan to leave, I must talk to you first.”

“Do you need to follow me all the way to Tallahassee?”

Barth looked back and forth down the hallways. “No, but you must provide us with something before you leave. That footage you recorded at the first rally. Do you still have the original?”