I Am The Local Atheist (36 page)

As I sat inside the car with the hail pelting down on the
windows, I sent a txt to Luke asking if Rucker was still in the
gardens. His reply said: [ he all yors. It no rain so hrd at grdn
]
Good
, I
thought.
Less distraction when my fist is
extracting blood from his face.

I started the
car up and drove out of the parking lot as the prison across the
road moped in silence looking somewhat sad amidst the hail that was
gently beating it into submission. I drove quickly – stupid, when I
think of it now, but I was in a hurry to satisfy my need for
revenge. I vaguely remember a red and blue light flash out of the
corner of my eye as I drove at least 80km and rising down
Lindesfarne Road but dismissed it as a mixture of bulging blood
vessels in my eyes and the sudden appearance of blue in the sky. I
took a lot of corners wide which allowed me to keep my overall
speed up and the few straights I bolted down probably helped to
keep distance between myself and the car that I had no idea was
following. The further east I went the less it was raining until
finally I got to the garden with a ray of sunshine arching across
the car and bathing me in its glow. I got out and ran full tit into
the gardens without even thinking where he could be, just heading
towards the shelter that most people use when it rains over this
way. He was there alright, and hardly even had a chance: He stood
up to run but I had my hands around the collar of his scrawny neck
before he could get his legs moving in time. My momentum pulled us
both in the general direction that I had been running and I used it
to thrust him onto the ground. It hit him hard as he tried to say
something but I kicked him in the stomach while he was down and
grabbed his head, throwing fist after fist into his face. I pulled
his head backwards so his face was looking up at the sky and his
back was arched awkwardly.

“
You fuckin’ sorry now you cunt?”

“
Wha… oh, shit man. Dude I’m sorry I’ll pay you”

I didn’t care.
I smacked him hard in the nose and blood splattered across his
mouth, then I shoved his head back into the ground, stood up and
started kicking furiously at his body, even aiming a couple at his
head for good measure.

“
You bastard! How dare you steal from me.”

“
I’m sorry man, I’ll repay ya! I’ll repay ya!”

“
Shut up you cunt!” I stomped viciously on his arm. His
shoulder buckled and I swooped in for more attacks, pummelling his
face with as much energy as I could muster. “You uncaring piece of
shit!” Rain kept washing the blood off making me think that I
wasn’t doing enough damage. “You could have saved her,” I screamed
into his fearful eyes as my fist connected with his cheekbone. “You
could have saved her!”

He looked confused through the abrasions that I was dealing to
his face so I yelled even louder to make it abundantly clear:
“You
killed
her!”

He tried
rolling away as I landed a hard one into his side and began begging
me to stop, but his outstretched hands were just getting in the
way, so they ended up taking the brunt of the beating instead.

“
I didn’t kill no one, I didn’t kill no one! What the fuck you
talking ‘bout?”

His pitiful
face just made me want to do a better job as each blow knocked more
blood out of him, more pain, more payback and more satisfaction out
of me. All I could see as I swung and connected each fist against
his wet and bloodied face was an animal who didn’t care, who had no
desire to care or make amends, but would only plead forgiveness
like a weasel trying to get out of what he deserved.

So I kept
hitting.

What did a
stance against violence mean to me now? Nothing. It had all turned
to nothing. Just a chance to make someone else finally know what it
felt like to be in need of so much help and to not receive it. In
some strange way, demanding that he understand what he had
done.

I didn’t hear
the sirens, I didn’t hear voices screaming at me to stop; nothing
really. But I did feel two pairs of arms grab me without
reservation and pull me away while I was still trying to kick the
fucker in the face – I didn’t care about the law, I didn’t care
about what was right or wrong, I didn’t care about what anyone
thought, I just wanted vengeance plain and simple. But they pinned
me down hard against the rain-soaked ground and I realised that
there wasn’t any point in struggling anymore – I had been in this
position once before and struggling hadn’t done me any good then.
So I relaxed, letting my body calm down and ignore the hands
forcefully positioning me. One of the cops left me to check the
damage I had done to Rucker. I don’t remember what the cops had
said to each other, but I do remember spatterings of rain howling
through the trees and landing on my face; I remember seeing the cop
help Rucker to his feet by pulling at his hair, saying something to
him that Rucker nodded in agreement to and then sending him on his
way, as though they were now in charge of the situation and would
take care of things from here on in. I didn’t care. Even as they
lifted me from the ground and shoved me towards the cop car, one of
them opening the back door as the other pushed my head down hard
and rammed me into the back seat – I didn’t care. I had done what I
wanted to do. I lay there waiting as they entered the front seats,
started the car up and began driving.

I took a
glance out the window: we weren’t heading towards the cop-shop.

Chronicles:

Satan has laid
a hand upon my shoulder

The devil came
for me today; had me in a noose, tied and bound.

The devil
sensed my burrowing sorrow, caught the whiff of vain pity and moved
swiftly to take my soul into the darkest depths as though I would
gladly sanction a pact to save myself from further shame. I slept,
I dreamed; I chased images of myself through nighted streets lit by
the glow of arcade booths shining their pixel warriors and soldiers
and racing cars at me as I ran to find the right way home. But I
was always looking behind me, but there was never anything there.
How could I sense something that wasn’t really there, and what was
it I was chasing that always eluded me?

Chronicle 1

Even before
the massive bills came, even before I lost any sense of privacy,
even before the public embarrassment of getting a erection from the
vibration, I had noticed that evil was getting its way when I paid
Lucas a visit one wintery chill-bitten night.

I left the
house while Tinsdale and his mates were exploring their developing
need to drink themselves into an obituary, thus rescuing myself
from the clutches of their insanity.

The night annoyed me. It was so cold that many felt compelled
to box themselves into a room and forget the outside through the
brain-washing sponge of alcohol.
I walk
instead.

And as I walked I knew that the dreary fog that hung so chill
in the air was endurable. It was not something that I had to hide
from or be afraid of; it was one aspect of the natural world that I
could be a unified part in. Tree branches arched their way up to
the street light beaming shadows down from on top.
There a man-made object has its place - is mine
to be just a simple act of viewing and appreciating? Endurance may
surely be the test.

But endurance
was quickly wearing thin and the cold air surrounding me seemed to
be getting thicker and thicker. As much as I wanted to prove the
worth of my own endurance to myself, I decided to call into Lucas’
place instead so I txted him asking if he was available for
visitors. His reply confirmed the positive and I arrived in time
for the fire that he was stoking to dry the snivel on the tip of my
nose. He welcomed me with a nod as we stood together in front of
the contained fireplace alongside the fence. There were some other
guys hanging around but not saying much. One of them handed me a
beer, which I took reluctantly but appreciatively so that he wasn’t
offended.

“
Lucy has some friends around. They’re about to watch the rugby
match on tonight in the lounge.”

That explained
the beer.

“
The rest of them are up in the loft if you wanna go up and
meet them.”

I didn’t, but
it seemed like Lucas was vaguely keen to mingle and the men down
here weren’t supplying him with anything to talk about so I
followed him up the staircase. The loft was quite a large room with
a bed in the far corner and a kitchen sink and bench closest to the
top of the staircase. A man and woman stood at the bench drinking
some wine and chatting. They gave Lucas a smile and a nod, and a
quick “hi” to me as we walked past and sat on a couple of empty
seats next to a bookcase. Two guys sat on the bed talking and a
woman was on a seat next to them.

“
Nice room” I said to Lucas.

“
Yeah, the owner of the house charges $170 a week for
it.”

“
Shit, really?”

“
Yeah, but that’s apparently cheap compared to what you would
pay for a place like this in somewhere like Auckland.”

I had no doubt
about it, but I was still used to only paying seventy dollars a
week for a place with two other people in it.

We sat for a
while listening to other people’s conversations but it was mostly
just talk about their work place and how much money they could be
making if they worked somewhere else. No one seemed happy about
their own jobs.

The subject of
visualising positivity in the workplace and in everyday life
suddenly sprang into existence with most of the guys saying that it
was bullshit and the girls defending it on the basis of it having a
positive impact on your outlook which affects everything you
do.

Lucas
mentioned that he was hoping that his positive visualisations of
‘receiving’ a million dollars were going to bleed into some aspect
of one of his jobs.

I laughed but
he seemed deadly serious.

I mentioned to
Lucas that despite the terrible interview that I had been through
(or even the ‘universe’ picking up my negative vibes), I got the
four-hour-a-day job unloading laundry from a truck. He was a little
surprised by this, because on last speaking to him, the weekend
after the interview, he had pointed out that perhaps I hadn’t
wanted the job so had subconsciously worked to destroy my chances
of getting it, or something like that. I’m not entirely sure what
my reply was, but I did mention that I wanted more money so that
may have overridden the imperative to not work.

We continued to chat, mostly about these positive
visualisations and whether they work or whether they are just
manifestations of coincidence which we lock into and attribute
feelings of successful thinking towards, and I started to notice
that I had been txting Lisa at the same time about the DVDs she and
Wendy had got out and whether or not I wanted to go over and
watch
Clueless
with them (I didn’t). Lucas began talking to me about the
party his friend Tina was planning a few weeks down the track and
that she had said that it was fine if I came along. I quite
specifically remember Lucas talking to me about it, and I with my
cellphone in my left hand, txting messages to Lisa trying
desperately to listen to Lucas at the same time. I had an inkling
of an idea that this is where evil got its way in the subtlest
manner.

Lucas probably
never even thought twice about it. This sort of behaviour had
become second-hand to him now and he had begun txting Tina to tell
her that I was coming while relaying me any further messages that
Tina had to tell us about.

“
You want a bed or couch to sleep on?”

I sent Lisa a
message about not wanting to watch chic-flicks unless they were
thrillers or involved nudity. “I don’t mind. I can sleep on the
floor if there’s not enough room.”

“
Tina doesn’t really like people sleeping on the floor unless
there’s a mattress. I think some of the other guys will probably
take the spare mattresses and the couches.”

“
I’ll take a bed then.”

Lisa replied
with [ tpcal ] Somehow I doubted that she was going tell her new
Christian friend Wendy what I had said. A second message came
through: [ male nudity? ]

“
Tina says you don’t need to bring anything unless you want
your own drinks to drink but she has heaps of beer and some
wine.”

“
I’ll bring some chips.”

I sent a
message back to Lisa: [ U thnk Wendys up 4 that? ]

“
Tina’s not a stoner either, so either take your own weed or
have a sesh before hand. Cool?”

“
Sweet.”

[ u’d be
srprsd wat Wendys up 4! ]

Jesus fuck
!

I suddenly
realised, from viewing the whole thing through my peripheral
vision, that here existed a scene that I had witnessed before as an
outsider – watching other people as they carried out conversations
while txting with heads hung low as though the chatter of voices
surrounding them wasn’t enough to stave off the boredom of verbal
communication – and despising what I saw. Yet now, here I was as an
insider taking part – the only exception being that no one was
there as an outsider to despise it except my own disconnected
consciousness.

I could see
Satan’s hand gently massaging my left shoulder, and there I was
thinking how wonderful it felt to be such a connected part of the
world around me.