AT THE BOOKSTORE

CHAPTER 5

THEBOOKSTORE

            Ray sat in the cafe of thebookstore, a cold coffee and time worn copy of the Bible on the table next tohim.  Most of the tables were occupied bylocals reading.  His eyes stared at thestreet, watching the cars and pedestrians. His cell kept vibrating as a constant stream of messages blinked unreadon the screen. 

            He glanced at the screen and saw hername, but decided not to check the message. He stood and stretched; his muscles sore both from the previous night'sactivities and sitting too long in the chair. He put the cell in a pocket and walked into the rows of bookshelves,stopping to peruse every few moments, not spending more than a moment on anygiven book.  He felt the cell buzzing inhis pocket again and decided to turn it off as he reached a section ofbooks. 

            He looked at the screen and couldsee the words on the screen.

            WE FOUND YOU

            He held the power button down untilthe bar appeared and shut the phone off with a swipe of a finger.  He looked around him, but he was alone in theaisle.  He grabbed the book in front ofhim and held it in his hands. 

            DISSIDENT

            The title was the only marking onthe front, in small simple white letters on an otherwise black cover.  He traced over the lettering with his fingersand shook his head. 

            “It has been a long time.”  He muttered. 

            “Indeed, it has been a long time.”  He heard a voice repeat to his right.  He spun and faced a man of his own age, atall lean man with wisps of thin blond hair cascading over his gaunt face.

            “Ryan.”  Ray said his voicelow and quiet. 

            Ryan looked at the book in his handsand laughed, almost choking in mirth. The man’shazel eyes returned to Ray, intent and penetrating. 

            “You should read that book; it might open your eyes.”  Ryan said with a sneer. 

            Ray pushed passed him, book in towand walked back to the café, Ryan following in silence behind him.  He sat, placed the book atop his IPAD andmotioned for Ryan to sit.

            “What do you want?”  Ray said,pronouncing each word with careful precision. 

            “I want you to sign my copy.”  Ryan said, grabbingthe book and holding it out for Ray.  “I’m yournumber one fan.”

            “The author of that book died years ago, I can assure you.”  Ray replied. 

            Ryan wagged a finger at him andreturned the book to its place. 

            “It has been a long time, Ray.”  Ryan said. 

            “Indeed.  You have yetto say what you want from me.  I do nothave all day to waste in silly banter.” 

            Ryan laughed and held up a finger,as if to ask for a moment.  He approachedthe counter and bought two coffees, pouring cream into each beforereturning. 

            “I had half a mind to put sugar in yours.”  Ryan said. 

            “Your sense of humor has not improved with the years.” Raysaid.  He sipped at the coffee and waitedfor Ryan to continue.  Instead ofspeaking, Ryan grabbed the IPAD and began tapping the screen for some moments.

            “Nice portfolio.”  He said,grinning. 

            Ray didn’trespond and crossed his legs while waiting for the ordeal to be finished.

            “I have many things to say to you, but I have to ask.  Who is the girl, Ray?”  Ryan asked, the same smug grin gracing hisemaciated face. 

            “Leave it alone.” 

            Ryan laughed and tended his coffeefor a few moments, glaring at Ray, his hazel eyes probing pure hatred.

            “Some things don’t change.  Tell methough, what in God’sname is with the beard?  I can see byyour um, portfolio you can afford a haircut. Have you gone mad?”

            Ray sat in silence, feeling angerflowing in his veins. 

            “And this!?”  Ryan said, holdingthe tattered Bible aloft.

            Ray feigned a laugh and stroked hisbeard.  Ryan opened the book and atrandom, began to read.     

            “We all must give our lives to the one true lord, JesusChrist, to achieve eternal salvation.”  Ray said tohim. 

            “You can’t tell me you have got yourself saved.”  Ryan said sneering.

            “I can say I do know the way and the path, even though Istruggle at times to keep myself on the road.”

            Ryan sighed with impatience andmoved in his chair, giving Ray a view of a handgun tucked into hiswaistband.  He once again grabbedDissident and began thumbing through the pages. 

           

            There can be no other conclusiondrawn that the wealth disparity currently found in these UNITED STATESconstitutes a crime against humanity and requires swift punishment.  All that hoard a disproportionate share ofriches are deemed guilty and are marked for immediate execution.

            “The revolution will happen, with or without you, Ray.”  He said as he closed the book. 

            “I’msure it will, but you will accomplish nothing. Even if you succeed, you will only change the players at the top, notthe game.  The forces of history arepermanent; fight against those forces at your own folly.”

            Ryan clapped his hands together andchuckled. 

            “I can’t believe you speak this rubbish.  However, I’ll give you one further opportunity to return tosanity.  Meet with us tonight,midnight.  I will text you the location.”  He said as he stood, still holding thebook. 

            “I do not wish to be part of whatever it is you areplanning.  What happens if I do notattend your meeting?”  Ray asked.

            Ryan laughed once more and threw thebook on the table, which landed with a crash and splashed coffee onto Ray’s IPAD.

            “You wrote the book, Ray. I’mquite sure you remember how it ends.” Ryan said, patting the gun with his hand before turning andwalking out of the bookstore. 

            Ray gathered his things and broughtthe book to the counter.  A girl ofcollege age, with long straight brown hair, scanned the product, smiling at himas the computer flashed a price on the screen. 

            “You haven’t been here as much as usual.”  The girl said to himas he pushed money towards her. 

            “No, I have been busy writing a new novel.”  He answered.

            She nodded at him, smiling. 

            “I have a question for you.” 

            “What is it?”  He asked.   

            “Why do you keep buying this book?  If you keep buying each copy we order, wewill continue to stock the book.”  She said, placingthe book and his receipt in a bag. 

            “I know.”  He said, taking thebag and leaving the bookstore.  He shieldedhis eyes from the sun and ran across the parking lot to his car, a ’72 navyblue Camaro with whitewall tires and polished chrome trim.  The engine roared and he eased the car intotraffic, which was thick with congestion and pedestrian tourists as he drovedown Flamingo towards Las Vegas Blvd. The car idled with irritation at the intersection as he looked up, as hehad many times, at Bill’s Gambling Hall and Saloon, which looked tiny and out ofplace being so near the monstrosity of Caesar’s Palace. 

            Ray laughed to himself and crossedto the western part of the city, following the same route the limo took theprevious night.  He turned onto ValleyView and instead of stopping at the front of the restaurant; he followed asmall alley to a parking lot in the rear of the building.  He let himself in the back door and followeda dark hallway to a solitary door.  He enteredand locked the door, quickly checking the two rooms and bathroom of hispersonal quarters to ensure he was alone.

            He flipped on the light in hisbedroom, which contained only a bed, a nightstand and one bureau.  The bed was not made, the black sheets andblankets tossed about as if in madness.  Heshut the light and returned to the other room.  

            The first room served as a library,the far wall lined with bookshelves.  He tookthe book from the bag and put it on a shelf, where there were dozens of copiesof the same book.  He placed his backpackon the slate coffee tabled and sat with a thud on the black leather couch.  He removed a black box from under the tableand placed it next to his backpack. 

            He took his keys from his pocket andfished for the correct key, opening the lock of the smooth black box.  He pulled the lid open to reveal two jetblack handguns and several magazines loaded with bullets.  He grabbed one of the guns, checked thechamber and jammed a magazine into the handle of the gun.  He repeated the process with the other gunand placed them both on the table in front of him.

            He ran a finger over each of theguns, a tender caress. 

            He stood and walked into thebathroom.  He stared at himself in themirror, gripping his beard in his hand, eyes following the scar that ran downhis chin.  He looked down at the sink andthe pair of scissors next to his dusty electric razor. 

            “Soon.”  He said tohimself.  He looked into the mirror onceagain.  “Very soon.”