Wake-Up Call. Joaquin De Torres

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ nothing at all to report. I was about to check my calendar for next week to answer her when I heard a large metallic crash off to my left. I snapped my head and saw that a couple of teens on bikes ran into, or kicked down one of the large trash cans at the entrance to the park about 30 yards away, spilling its contents onto the grass and pebbled walkway. They laughed and just kept going, and I wondered if they’d done this to every trash can in the park.

      This pathetic generation of youth! Assholes!

      I retrieved a pair of latex gloves from the box I keep in my glove compartment, and got out to clean up the mess. I looked around and saw no one else nearby I could voice my displeasure to, so I got to work. I set the can upright again and took out the huge plastic bag within and began picking up the spilt trash. I looked in the direction of the perpetrators as they rode away and shook my head in disgust. After I cleaned up the pebbled trail, I moved to the smooth pavement of the bike path and cleaned that up. As I stepped onto the grass where most of the trash lay, I noticed someone beside me also picking up items.

      “Can you believe this generation of kids? Delinquent bastards. Disgusting!” I spat without looking.

      “D-D-D-D-DISH…KUSHHH…T-T-TING!” the person slurred loudly. I spun around, alarmed and astonished. Standing there with an armful of trash waiting for me to open the bag was Doogie Tuckman.

      Chapter 3

      A Perfect Stranger

      I simply stood there, not knowing whether to feel shock or exhilaration. One thing that I noticed right off the bat was that contrary to the photos I had of him, he did not have a misshapen mouth. In the photos it was prominent and grotesquely distracting. The right side of his mouth actually slacked, pulled down by some invisible weight hanging from his lips. But as I looked at him, his mouth was perfectly normal.

      His eyes! These, too, were different. In the photos they were droopy, dopey-looking. And his right eye was off-center; a lazy eye looking away while the left looked at you. But I was now staring at two perfectly normal eyes looking straight at me. Body-wise, he was the same as in the photos: short and obese. He wore a blue, plaid long-sleeve shirt, jeans, a camper’s sleeveless vest and a gray hoody—all of the ensemble was dirty, stained and tattered. He wore knee-high rubber rain boots caked in mud, and on his head was a knit winter cap. He had found a way to shave because his face, huge and round, was not shaggy as in the photos, but covered with dark spiny whiskers. I didn’t know what to say. I was still holding the bag of trash, and he was still holding an armful of trash. He decided to talk first.

      “T-t-t-traaaa-shhhhh! E-e-ev-v-v-very-wh-wh-wh-ere!” He was looking at the bag I held. I came out of my stupor and opened the bag wide. He stepped forward with a limp and opened his arms. The trash tumbled into the bag. As he bent over to pick up more, I simply stood there and watched. He cleaned up the grass area and I put the full bag into the canister, peeling off my gloves and dropping them in.

      “B-B-B-B-B-BYE-BYE!” He turned to leave, but I jumped in front of him.

      “Don’t go!”

      “Wh-wh-why?”

      “I want to talk to you.”

      “Wh-wh-why?”

      “I’ve been looking for you for weeks.”

      “Wh-wh-why?”

      “I want to help you.”

      “Are you the commander?”

      My heart stopped.

      “ARE YOU THE COMMANDER?” he repeated with more firmness.

      His question, both times, were without stutter or slur. His voice was clear, and the underlying tone, lucid. My mind and my pulse raced uncontrollably. Somewhere within this jolt of electric shock I realized I had to say something.

      “I’m Javier Flores. I’m a doctor.”

      “Are you the commander?” Again the question, but I knew neither the reference nor inference of which he spoke. He shook his head woefully, dropping his eyes, and turned to leave.

      “No, but I know the commander!” I didn’t know what else to say. I thought about the dream, so vivid in my mind.

      “Prove it.” Doogie’s eyes remained coldly on me. I had a hunch and I thought I’d try it.

      “Wait here.” I ran back to my car and rummaged through the lidded compartment between the seats. I found what I was looking for and ran back to him. He had not moved from his spot. I held up a quarter between my index finger and thumb. His eyes widened. Then I closed the coin within my palm.

      “Come with me,” I said. “And maybe we can find the commander.”

      “You are not the commander,” he declared firmly, and began walking off.

      “Doug!” I called out. He ignored me. “Doug Tuckman!” He kept walking. “DOOGIE!”

      He stopped and turned around.

      “H-H-H-H-ow d-d-d-o you kn-kn-kn-know my n-n-name?”

      I took a deep breath. I didn’t want to lose him again.

      “Doogie, I’m your friend. My name is Javier. You can call me ‘Jav.’”

      “H-H-H-H-A-A-A-V-V!”

      “That’s right, Doogie!” I approached him slowly, sensing the slightest whisper of trust. He looked down and took a step back. I stopped and held my hands up. “Doogie, see that bench there?” I pointed to the nearest park bench about 20 feet away. “Wait for me there and I will get us some food.” He looked quickly up to me.

      “F-F-F-OOOOOO-D!?”

      “Yes! I will bring back food! Just wait for me there, on that bench!” He turned towards the bench. I ran to Fresh Mart Sato, straight for the take-out counter and the multitude of steaming trays behind the display glass. It only took about seven minutes to get everything out of the store.

      I managed to carry everything pass my car and to the edge of the park where I had picked up the trash. I looked down the walking path on my right. Doogie was sitting on the bench, gazing at the first stars appearing on the horizon. I sat next to him and put down several plastic bags between us. Despite the sweet, tangy and deep fried aromas emanating from the bags, Doogie didn’t seem to notice. His head remained tilted up, his eyes alight with amazement. I sat back and looked at the purpling sky, darkening into night.

      “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” He ignored my question as his finger pointed up in the distance.

      “That’s the Moon, see the crescent?”

      “Yes.” I responded, keenly aware that his stutter had again disappeared. He pointed to various points in space, and I followed his finger.

      “Now, look up and to the right. That’s Pollux; and next to that is Castor, about 18 light years away. Beautiful stars!

      If this is all true, how the hell did he know any of it? I asked myself.

      “Now, from Castor, drop straight down. That’s Mercury, and СКАЧАТЬ