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33

Author: Jeremy Jab
last update Last Updated: 2024-10-29 19:42:56

The man was thin but extremely muscular, clean-shaven

man said.

to me?" he asked.

all over, you know what I mean?"

each other, having a jolly time.

"Maybe not. I'm just saying what I would have done."

and black-haired, with soft fleshy lips and oily skin the color

of hazelnuts. He was Puerto Rican with a strong island

accent, casually dressed in black slackS and loose-fitting

tropical shirt open to the breastbone. He had long mani-

cured fingers, a square gold ring on each hand, and shiny

gold chains around his neck. At most he was thirty-five. He

extended a hand, and Mark had to grab it out of politeness.

The ring seemed to weigh as much as the appendage. "LuIS

Camacho," the man said. How you doin' ?"

Peter Benedict," Mark replied. "I'm doing okay"

Luis pointed emphatically at the floor. "When I'm in tow

this is my favorite place. I love the Luxor, man"

ed sipped his beer. There was never a good time for

emall talk, especially tonight. A blender whirred loudly.

JIndeterred, Luis cont
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  • I-SHIRLEY   39

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  • I-SHIRLEY   38

    The heavy, sweating animal between his legs warmed hisbody against the crisp chill of the mid-December day. Hewas not a good rider. Stonecutters were used to slow speedsin an ox-drawn cart. He gripped the reins tightly, pressed hisknees against the belly of the beast and held on as best hecould. The horse was a healthy animal that the monasterykept stabled on the mainland, just for this kind of purpose.A ferryman had rowed Ubertus from the shingled beach ofVectis to the Wessex shore. Josephus had instructed him tomake haste and return within two days, which meant thehorse must be made to canter.As the day wore on the sky turned slate gray, a hy.to the rocky face of the coastal undercliffs. He rodethrough a frosty countryside of fallow fields Pacewalls, and tiny villages, much like his own. Occasionallyakinde at pace stonehe passed dull-looking peasants, trudging on foot or ridtlethargic mules. He was mindful of thieves but in truth h:only possessions of value were t

  • I-SHIRLEY   37

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  • I-SHIRLEY   36

    Luis had looked at it and had told him it was probablypolice? He hadn't. He was too frightened. They had arguedwith a postcard pinched betweenl his fingers. It's a Doomsdayostcard, Asshole, with my name on it and today's date!a sick joke. Maybe the idiot clerk John had recently firedvetting back at him. And anyway, had John called thewasack and forth for a while until Luis's cellphone had goneoff on the hall table with its campy "Oops I Did it Again"ring tone. John had leapt for it and had cried out, Who thefuck is Phil? Answer, truth be told, was the guy from SuttonPlace, but Luis had dodged the truth unconvincingly.John's emotions had red-lined and, according to Luis, thenormally mild-mannered fellow had lost it, grabbing thealuminum softball bat that he had abandoned by the frontdoor a decade earlier after tearing an Achilles tendon inan adult-league game in Pelham. John had wielded it likea lance, pushing the end into Luis's shoulders, screamingobscenities. Luis

  • I-SHIRLEY   35

    When Martin was young, his father would take him fishing, because that's what fathers were supposed to do.He'd be woken before dawn with a poke on his shoulder.throw on clothes and climb into the pick-up truck for thedrive from the panhandle town of Quincy down to PanamaCity. His father would hire a 26-footer by the hour from aworking-class marina and chug south about ten miles intothe Gulf. The journey, from his dark bedroom to the spar-kling fishing grounds would occur with scant exchange ofwords. He would watch him pilot the boat, his bulky frametinged orange by the rising sun and wonder why even thenatural beauty of a warm morning boat ride on calm shim-mering waters did not bring joy to the man's face. Eventu-ally, his father would stub out a cigarette and say somethinglike, "Okay, let's get these lines baited up," then lapse intosullen silence for hours at a time until a snapper or a wahoohit the tackle and orders had to be barked.Crossing City Island Bridge and

  • I-SHIRLEY   34

    At the end of the day, they went back through buck nakedSince scanners couldn't detect paper. Underground was ster-Building 34 vas the most sterile complex in the Unitedby a cadre of Department of Defense recruiters who didn'tlie ground. Nothing came in, nothing came out.States. It was staffed by employees who had been selectedhave the slightest clue about the nature of the work for whichthey were recruiting. They only knew d the of skill interviews set that they wwere allowed to reveal that the job involved Area 51, athen only with the permission of their superiors. Inevitablthat wasrequired. At the second or third round of inter51, andInevitablylace theyed replyinstallationall that cansful applicantment employeesathe recruiters were then asked, "You mean the place theykeep aliens and UFOS?" to which their authorized renlwas, "This is a highly classified government installaidoing critical work on national defense. That is all thatbe disclosed at this time. Ho

  • I-SHIRLEY   33

    The man was thin but extremely muscular, clean-shavenman said.to me?" he asked.all over, you know what I mean?"each other, having a jolly time."Maybe not. I'm just saying what I would have done."and black-haired, with soft fleshy lips and oily skin the colorof hazelnuts. He was Puerto Rican with a strong islandaccent, casually dressed in black slackS and loose-fittingtropical shirt open to the breastbone. He had long mani-cured fingers, a square gold ring on each hand, and shinygold chains around his neck. At most he was thirty-five. Heextended a hand, and Mark had to grab it out of politeness.The ring seemed to weigh as much as the appendage. "LuISCamacho," the man said. How you doin' ?"Peter Benedict," Mark replied. "I'm doing okay"Luis pointed emphatically at the floor. "When I'm in towthis is my favorite place. I love the Luxor, man"ed sipped his beer. There was never a good time foremall talk, especially tonight. A blender whirred loudly.JIndeterred, Luis cont

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