The Travelling Man (22 page)

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Matt Kravis sat at the table in the Sheriff’s kitchen, exhausted. The days had been long and hard and he knew that whatever he had been expecting to happen, this wasn’t it.

He took a swig of the beer, disliking the bitter taste but enduring it to be polite. It had been some time since he had sat in the kitchen of a woman and been offered hospitality and his social graces were rusty to say the least.

The Sheriff had herself a nice little family here and he felt bad for their predicament and for that of the whole town. It wasn’t the first such place to suffer and he could only hope that it would be the last, but he wasn’t that confident anymore.

He heard the footsteps coming back down the stairs and he looked up into the eyes of the big Sheriff as she entered the room.

“Well, Mr. Kravis,” she said, dropping the “Matt” that she had been using when he’d been helping her earlier.

“Well, Sheriff?” he replied, dropping the “Cassie”.

“I think it’s about that time,” she said tiredly.

“I guess it is,” he sighed, pushing one of the wooden chairs towards her with his foot, “I guess it is.” 

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Father Bruce Luther watched over his battered and bruised flock. The faces of his parishioners were still in shock and they were looking for guidance and Bruce knew only one direction that they needed to take. He had been meditating for some time in his small office beyond the church’s public face. He had prayed long and hard for guidance, to receive the word for what he was to do next and what he was to tell his children. He knew that he had the responsibility now to turn Granton around, to turn them all back into the warm embrace of God. They had to prove themselves worthy now of his love and find a way back into his good graces.

God’s words were faint, a whisper of a signal as if trying to come through from a great distance. Granton had slipped, of that there was no doubt, but it was now just dawning on him how far they had fallen. Now even God’s word was hard to hear and static-strewn, but the fact that at least they were still there was of some comfort. They might have a long road back, but they weren’t abandoned; at least, not yet.

He climbed back up off his knees and stood stretching his back. He wasn’t a young man anymore and he could only pray that he had enough gas in the tank to see the job through to an end that, he hoped, wouldn’t be too bitter.

He wandered back out into the church. There were people sitting in pews in the church that he hadn’t seen in the building for more years than he cared to think about. He may have been a pious man, but he was, after all, still a man and he couldn’t help but feel a little stab of self-righteousness that in the end, when the chips were down, they had all came running back.

There were many hands clasped and heads lowered in silent prayer and he hoped, begs for their forgiveness for their desertion. Granton had been struck by such a natural force of devastation that it could have only been caused by the hand of God. Their deity had looked down upon their tarnished garden in all of its decadent fall from grace and he had decided to show them just how small and insignificant they really were.

Bruce wandered amongst his flock, touching shoulders with a gentle hand of comfort. He felt all of their eyes turning up towards him and he felt the old rush of authority being thrust upon him. It was a burden, to be sure, but his shoulders were broad and it was his mantle to assume. If God had so deemed him to carry his word in Granton, then who was he to argue?

They had some supplies here, mainly because there was a festival planned for next week and a lot of the food and drink for the paid stalls had already been stored in the church’s basement. It was a sign that Bruce took great comfort in. If God had intended to send a message, it wasn’t quite the biblical cleansing of the Old Testament variety. They had been cleansed for sure, but they had not been broken beyond repair - there was still hope.

His numbers grew during the day as more and more people found their way up the hill and into the church. He saw faces that he hadn’t seen in years, if ever before. Granton’s people were scared and they were coming for comfort.

Glenn Jordan, the local diner owner, shuffled in through the doors looking nervous at the surroundings. Bruce had heard that the man’s business had gone up in smoke and he couldn’t help but wonder just what the man might have done to deserve such special treatment.

“Glenn, I was so sorry to hear about the diner,” Bruce said, shaking the man warmly by the hand.

“It was everything that I owned,” Glenn said morosely, looking down at the floor. “I don’t understand why my store was the only one on the street that burned down; why me, Father?”

“I’m afraid that is a question between you and God, my son,” Bruce said as kindly as he could manage. “I think that perhaps we all have to find some answers deep within ourselves, Glenn, because there are certainly plenty of questions being asked by the man upstairs.”

“Is this…, is this some kind of judgment, Father?” Glenn asked, looking over Bruce’s shoulder towards the large statue of the crucified Jesus standing at the front of the church.

“I just think that God was watching, Glenn. He was watching all of us and he didn’t like what he saw.”

He left the diner owner to his thoughts and stepped outside of the church into the warm air. He could see small plumes of smoke rising from various fires about town that had by now been extinguished. The town’s small emergency service personnel had been busy in the past 24 hours, presumably temporarily guided by God’s own hand. But Bruce knew that it was now time for him to step forward; God was watching and he had to take charge of his flock. He had failed them through his own negligence, but now he was stronger and more determined than he had ever been before. He would lead them out of the valley and into the promised land.

“And you’ll make a fine job of it too, my son.”

Bruce, startled, turned towards the voice and saw the Englishman, Grange, standing before him. The man looked as tired as Bruce felt but there was still a burning intensity in the man’s eyes that demanded respect.

“Mr. Grange,” Bruce said uncertainly. He hadn’t seen the man for a few days, but those days hadn’t been kind to the Englishman.

“I see that your flock are returning in droves; you must be very pleased to find yourself back in God’s favor once more,” Grange said smiling.

“He certainly picks his moments to make a point,” Bruce said uncomfortably.

“One of my own specialties,” Grange said tiredly.

“Well, I have a lot of work to do,” Bruce said, turning away.

“Yes, you do, Father. Just remember who you really work for here.”

“I work for God, my son,” Bruce said, wanting to be away from the man who had promised him much a few days ago, but now whose words seemed in stark contrast to what Bruce wanted to believe.

A hand suddenly clamped down hard on Bruce’s arm and he flinched under the painful pressure. He wanted to rip his arm free of the grasp but Grange’s elderly and well worn appearance belied the man’s undeniable power.

“I really don’t have time to waste on you, Father; the end grows closer and closer with each darkening breath and I don’t have the time to dance anymore, so you will do as you are told, you filthy talking monkey,” Grange rasped as he pulled Bruce in close and started to whisper instructions in his ear. 

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“The one thing that I can tell you with any great certainty is that he’s not a man,” Kravis said, beginning his story as the Sheriff sat opposite, listening intently. “He goes by many different names depending on where he is, so heaven only knows what his real one is. Her name was Cerys and the town was called Pleasance. It was a small town, much like Granton; just a speck on the map where everyone knew everyone and most were happy but didn’t have much in the way of material possessions. There was no industry to speak of and most people earned the minimum wage, but it was a good place, with good people,” he stressed firmly.

Cassie listened to the defensive tone of his voice and recognised it as similar to her own whenever she had been talking about Granton outside of the town. She had worked in Cedar Falls for several years, slowly climbing up the police ladder, trying to win her gold shield. She remembered spending as much time putting down barbs against her small town upbringing as she had to against her gender. “This was your home town as well?” she asked.

“For my sins,” he smiled sadly.

“And Cerys?”

“She was the most important person in my life and that bastard took it all away,” Kravis spat with venom.

“He’s responsible, isn’t he? I mean, I don’t understand what he’s doing, but it is him that’s doing it right?”

Kravis nodded. “I don’t expect you to believe most of what I’ve got to say, Sheriff, but for the sake of your town and your family I need you to at least listen. Can you do that?”

Cassie thought long and hard about what the guy might be about to say. There was a part of her that didn’t want to hear anything that Kravis had to offer, a part of her that wanted to send him packing out into the night because she knew that anything she heard from his lips, she would never be able to un-hear. But in the end she had a daughter in her heart and badge on her chest that overruled any personal feelings on the matter. She had responsibilities that could not be ignored. “Tell me your story, Matt, and I’ll listen, I can promise you that.”

“He’s a salesman at his heart, however black it might be, that’s what you have to understand about the man. He never lies, not outright at least. He lives and talks in the shadows between the truth and the lie, but it’s always your decision, your choice. I think that’s what he loves the most you know - the ability to sell us what we really want but without ever letting us see the small print. He thinks that all of us are greed incarnate; ‘talking monkeys’ is what he likes to call us. He hates us and yet he needs us at the same time, which I personally think just makes him hate us all the more.”

“Wait a minute, I don’t understand,” Cassie said interrupting. “What is he selling?”

“Whatever you most desire in all of creation. He can promise you what you truly want, but it’s all smoke and mirrors. His promises are dark and poisoned, the words are sour, and it will all taste bitter. That’s his trick: to give you what you ask for but taint it and pollute it so that it turns around and destroys you,” Kravis said, shaking his head.

“Cerys?”

“My sister was an athlete, a real track superstar. It was only the two of us; our parents had passed a few years earlier - a house fire while we were away at school. Cerys was four years younger than me, but she was always the sensible one, the adult to my adolescent. She won a full scholarship through college and was well on her way to making the Olympic trials. She’d have made the team, you know, and she’d have medaled too, but…”

Cassie waited as the man sitting opposite her tried to rip open the obvious wound and spit out the acidic words.

“I was driving,” he said in small choked voice. “I was driving and we were arguing, just bickering like brothers and sisters do. I…, I missed a stop sign and we were struck side on by a semi. Her side of the car was crushed, along with her legs.”

Cassie wanted to offer some kind of words of sympathy but she instinctively knew that if she interrupted him then he’d struggle to finish, so she stayed silent.

“She was never going to walk again, let alone run. She just sat in that damn hospital bed and started to waste away and it was all my fault, Sheriff. I put her there and I couldn’t do anything to get her out again. She spent three months in that place, refusing to do the rehab and physiotherapy. She just gave up. Her spirit was sapped and she was ripe for him.”

“Grange?”

Kravis nodded, “Only it was Kenneth Kane then, a suave older man with a slithering walk and rattlesnake’s forked tongue. Cerys suddenly started to pick up and I thought that maybe there was a new doctor or maybe a new therapist. It was clear that someone had got her out of her funk and I saw the hope in her eyes from that hospital bed. She told me all about her mysterious visitor, Mr. Kane. At the time, I really didn’t care what was making her come out of the darkness, I was just glad that something was. Whenever I tried to ask her about Kane she just clammed up. She was always terrible about keeping secrets, you know; she just had eyes that would dance whenever she was excited.” Kravis smiled at the bittersweet memory.

“She sounds nice,” Cassie commiserated.

“You remind me of her a little. She had the same sort of determined jaw line that you have, the sort of look that says nothing is going to get in my way, no matter what.”

“What happened?” Cassie probed gently.

“Kane, Grange, call him what you will - he happened. I got a call from the hospital one morning telling me that Cerys was ready to be discharged. I picked her up and I could immediately see that something was different about her. There was a bright light back in her eyes that had been missing since the accident. I wheeled her through the wards and out to the parking lot and she was positively bouncing in the wheelchair. I helped her into the car and the whole time she just kept on beaming at me with excitement. We were about a mile from home and on a long stretch of deserted road when she made me pull over. At first I thought that she was going to be sick, but just as I pulled over she threw open the car door and leapt out. I was shocked as she just laughed and twirled through the grass, dancing and laughing.”