Ezekiel, page 4
The party was scheduled for Saturday the fourteenth of October. Anna had done most of the organising, and Joshua, Ezra and Ezekiel had erected a sizeable marquee in the large front yard. Not only were all thirty of Emily’s classmates invited, but Anna, despite protests from Joshua, had decided it was time that some of the parents should also get better acquainted, so the invitation was extended to include parents as well. Essentially, there would be two parties running at the same time. The children would be supervised and organised by seventeen-year-old twins that lived nearby and who Anna had little trouble in recruiting. The pair were over the moon about the idea and were bubbling over with ideas to entertain the kids. Twenty-two kids were coming, and of the potential forty-four parents, twenty-nine had accepted the invite.
For Joshua, catering for fifty-one was bad enough, but considerably better than the potential for a gathering of ninety. He’d have to see if there were any opportunities for overtime at work to supplement the family budget.
By three o’clock on the Saturday afternoon the two parties were well underway. The children were noisily playing games organised by the twins, the hanging doughnuts game so far being the most popular. In the marquee a five-disc CD player was on random, playing a mixed compilation of hits from the 1990s.
The adults had formed several smaller groups. Five men were hovering around the barbeque drinking beer and sharing cooking tips for steak, sausages, and onions. A number of ladies were helping Anna with setting the tables, finishing off some salad dishes, and keeping the kitchen in some sort of order. Other women sat under the marquee chatting about their kids, their husbands, favourite party recipes and trendy hairstyles. Ezra was also under the marquee telling stories and sharing some of his conspiracy theories with three women. All three were sitting forward in their seats, fully focused on the bricklayer’s tales.
There was only one group that consisted of both women and men. There were eight in this group, three couples and two other women who had attended the party without their partners. By far the loudest and most outspoken person in this group was Wayne, a tall, fit looking forty-year-old, with a flat top haircut and a gold stud in his left ear. Quite the opposite was his wife, Wendy, a quiet, softly spoken lady who looked like she would blow away if the breeze picked up. She had a lot of make-up on, but not quite enough to hide a bruise on her cheek near her right eye.
Ezekiel had neither the slightest inclination to scamper around with the ten-year-olds, nor interact with the adults whose conversations seemed mundane and pointless. He had isolated himself on one side of the house where there was a small rock pool with a miniature waterfall that operated from mains power for twelve hours a day. There were a few lily pads and half a dozen fat goldfish in the water feature. There was also a black metal bench seat, shaded by a heavily laden mango tree, where you could sit and contemplate the world, watch the fish, and hear the tranquil sounds of running water. This is where Ezekiel sat with his Bible. On two occasions two different ten-year-old girls had appeared looking for a hiding place. The Bible reader slowly turned his hairless head and stared, without saying a word. Both girls looked at his expressionless face and took off.
The chat with the party of eight had moved from pondering their children’s future professions, to how much longer John Howard could remain Prime Minister, and then onto how Nathan Merritt became the most prolific try scorer of the year, while playing for Souths who won the wooden spoon. Joshua dropped in regularly, said a brief few words, handed out some more beers, topped up the Chardonnay, then disappeared.
While the topic of football was boring for the two unaccompanied ladies, they did admit they liked the look of some players, namely Cameron Smith and Todd Carney. Doug and Sally were singing the praises of the Broncos at winning the grand final. Kev and Susan did their best to contribute to the NRL debate despite their preference being for AFL. Wayne searched and pulled up a picture of Nathan Merritt on his flip phone and showed the group.
‘This is Merritt,’ he said loudly and over the top of Kev who was speaking about Craig Bellamy, the Melbourne Storm coach. ‘This guy scored more tries than anyone else this year.’
‘Oh… he’s a handsome one,’ said unaccompanied Lisa. ‘I’ll have to add him to my list.’
‘He could park his shoes under my bed anytime,’ added Susan.
‘Dream on love,’ said Kev, her partner. Wayne moved around the group showing the image.
‘What a cutie,’ said Wendy with a smile. ‘His skin looks so smooth.’
Wayne snapped his phone shut and glared at her. ‘What’s that supposed to mean… smooth like what? Like you wanna run your hands over him or something?’ Wayne took a step closer to his wife and looked down at her. He gripped her upper arm tightly and partly lifted her. ‘That’s what you want isn’t it?’ He moved his face close to hers. ‘To feel that smooth black cock?’
‘Come on mate,’ said Doug. ‘Keep it lighthearted.’ He gave a forced chuckle and looked around at the others for support. Wayne spun his head.
‘Do you know my wife, mate?’ he blurted.
‘No, but it’s just…’
‘Then shut the fuck up!’ With that Wayne marched Wendy away not easing up with the tight hold on her arm. His other hand was clenched in a fist. With his sleeveless t-shirt all the tightened muscles of his arms were on display.
Ezekiel heard the raised voices and peered around the side of the house to see Wayne almost dragging Wendy in his direction. He moved a few steps and stood behind the Mango tree.
Wayne pushed her down onto the metal seat and stood over her. ‘You fucking bitch. Humiliating me in front of other people. Like I’m not fucking good enough for you. Letting everyone know that you’d like some other bloke’s cock inside you.’
‘I’m sorry, love,’ she cried. ‘I don’t want that. I wasn’t thinking.’ Wendy cowered over as if she knew what was coming. ‘Please forgive me.’
Wayne lifted his hand and slapped her hard over the already bruised side of her face. She made no sound, knowing this could easily make it worse. Ezekiel’s eyes opened wide as he heard the crack against her cheek. ‘You can leave. I’ll make my own way home with Judith. Hopefully, when I get home you will be in a better frame of mind. Now fuck off.’ Wendy hastily took the car keys from her jeans and scooted away.
Ezekiel emerged from behind the tree. The warmth had spread from his abdomen to across his chest.
‘What the fuck are you looking at kid?’ snapped Wayne.
‘But let man and beast be covered with sackcloth, and cry mightily unto God: yea, let them turn everyone from his evil way, and from the violence that is in their hands.…’ Ezekiel raised his arms above his head as he spoke.
‘Are you that bald idiot fuck from the high school?’ snarled Wayne.
‘I will cast thee to the ground, I will lay thee before kings, that they may behold thee.’
‘The only casting to the ground will be your stupid arse, son. Don’t your parents teach you any manners?’ Wayne moved towards Ezekiel. His foot caught on a large rock on the surround of the pond and he fell forward. He instinctively stretched out an arm to break his fall. His fingers jammed in between two large rocks and his head struck the ground.
Ezekiel looked at the man, sprawled out, unconscious, with his right hand twisted over and his little finger bent back nearly to his wrist. Then he heard the word of God. Ezekiel, forgiveness can still find this man.
Immediately he squatted, lifted Wayne’s right arm and bit down hard on the base of the broken little finger. He tore back with his head and the finger detached easier than expected and his head jerked back with the detached finger in his mouth. Ezekiel ran to the back of the house and into his grandad’s small home. At the sink, he spat the finger out, and stared at the bloody saliva covered digit laying there with ripped skin and splintered bone. He gagged, dry retched and spat a few times while rinsing his mouth. After a few deep breaths he wiped his face and went back to Wayne.
The man’s position was much the same. His eyes were still closed. As Ezekiel stood near him, Wayne’s head started rolling side to side and he began making some grunting sounds. Blood trickled from his hand and across a rock where a slow dripping clot dangled just above the water. The teenager knelt and placed his mouth to the man’s ear. ‘You are not yet forgiven. But you may have one last chance. The choice is yours.’
* * *
Joshua and Kev sat Wayne up. He was groggy but awake. Anna was bandaging a firm dressing to his hand. Doug, Sally, Lisa, and Susan were searching for the missing finger – checking the pond; between the rocks; the surrounding area, and under the Mango tree.
‘Do you think the goldfish could’ve eaten it?’ asked Lisa.
‘No, no,’ replied Joshua. ‘They may pick at the flesh. They wouldn’t eat the bone.’ He turned his attention to Wayne. ‘Come on mate. Wake up. The ambulance is coming.’
Kev looked at Susan, his wife, rolled his eyes then hid his amusement with his hand.
Ezekiel rummaged through the kitchen cupboards until he found the collection of empty jars. He selected a small jar that still had a bit of a vegemite label remaining. He took it back to his grandad’s place and dropped Wayne’s finger inside.
With the metho from under the kitchen sink he filled the jar to the brim before screwing the lid on tightly. Ezekiel held the specimen up and studied it. ‘Why am I doing this?’ he asked himself.
In the bedroom he slid a large box out from under the bed. He saw shoe boxes which were full of photos, keys, and locks that his grandad couldn’t throw away and three copies of the Courier-Mail newspaper. The thirteen-year-old lifted each of them and saw some of the front-page headlines. He nodded his head and spoke softly, ‘Bad man. Bad man. Bad man.’ He placed the jar upright in a shoe box and covered it with photos.
* * *
Ezra moved his lounge chair a little closer to his grandson who sat in the other matching chair in the tiny lounge.
‘A pretty lively party. You did a good job of avoiding most everyone,’ said Ezra.
‘I did. You seemed to be entertaining a few of the ladies.’
Ezra smiled. ‘I told them about some mind control experiments. They thought I was joking or crazy at first. Then I got them to do an internet search for Project MKUltra and DARPA.’
‘Now they believe?’
‘Not entirely… let’s say they’re half on board. And they don’t think I’m as mad as they first thought. What was it you wanted to chat about?’
‘I had a visit this afternoon.’
‘Did you feel it?’ replied Ezra, immediately knowing what his grandson was referring to.
‘More than ever. That man, Wayne, he did not just lose his finger near the rocks around the pond. I bit it off. It is in a jar under your bed,’ said Ezekiel blandly.
Ezra was a difficult man to surprise but this made him sit back wide-eyed. For a moment he had no words. Then his head began nodding slowly as he thought.
‘Why under my bed?’ he asked.
Ezekiel smiled, then laughed. ‘That is funny, Grandad.’ He laughed some more. Ezra began a chuckle himself. ‘Of all the questions that one might ask, you chose that one.’
‘So, do you have an answer?’
‘It is a place that only you and I are likely to go looking.’
‘You felt the need to keep it?’
‘Yes, but I cannot explain why. At least not yet.’
‘Tell me exactly what happened.’
Ezekiel recounted the entire incident, beginning with the moment Wayne dragged his wife to the side of the house.
* * *
Wayne Barnes left the ED at Ipswich Hospital five hours after he arrived. His head injury observations had remained stable, and after a short trip to the minor ops theatre, his right hand had been cleaned and repaired, albeit with one less finger. He was advised to remain overnight for observation but chose to sign himself out against medical advice. After getting a tetanus injection, being given some antibiotics, spare dressings and painkillers, he caught a taxi home.
Chapter 7
Shopping
On a Saturday nearly four weeks later, Ezekiel was walking up and down the aisles of Woolworths doing the household shopping while his mother was getting her hair done. As he was dropping items into his trolley and checking off his shopping list, he saw Wendy Barnes doing much the same thing. She was thin and a little dishevelled. There was bruising and swelling around her left eye.
He moved closer to her as she stood squeezing some avocados. She looked at him, smiled kindly, and kept about her business. He put his trolley alongside hers.
‘Hello, I am Ezekiel. You might not remember me. Ezekiel Kaufman. I am the brother of Emily Kaufman.’
‘Oh yes… the birthday party,’ she replied hesitantly. ‘I didn’t see you there.’ She pulled some of her long hair over her shoulder to partly cover her left cheek.
‘I was doing some reading at the party, and I kept out of the way, but I did meet your husband.’
‘Oh!’ she placed an open hand on her chest.
‘I met him when he fell over near the pond and lost his finger.’
‘I see.’
‘Has he recovered?’
‘Unfortunately, he’s making a habit of falling over. He split his hand back open and then got a bad infection… the doctor says it’s gangrene.’
‘He is a violent man,’ said Ezekiel bluntly. ‘I am so sorry he has hurt you.’
‘Oh this!’ she lightly touched near her eye. ‘I’m a bit clumsy myself. Always walking into things, you know.’ She pushed out a smile.
‘Can you give him a message from me?’
‘I suppose… Did you talk with him after I left?’
‘Briefly.’
‘What do you want me to tell him?’
‘Tell him that Ezekiel said he is now forgiven.’
‘Forgiven? Forgiven for what?’
‘I think both he and you know the answer to that,’ said the hairless teenager. Wendy stood there looking at him. After a few quiet seconds he added. ‘Gangrene is very serious. He will lose his hand.’
‘Oh dear,’ she gasped. ‘Hopefully not. But the doctor said that’s possible. We should know more in the next day or so… You are a very unusual young man, Ezekiel.’
‘You are truly kind. Others use different adjectives.’
‘I will pass on your message.’
‘Do you have children?’ asked Ezekiel.
‘I have a son. He’s just turned eighteen. Why do you ask?’
‘Sometimes children can follow in their parents’ footsteps.’
Wendy didn’t reply just stood there staring at the boy. Some colour had drained from her face.
Ezekiel reached across the avocados and selected one. ‘This one is exactly right.’ He passed it to her, smiled and set off to finish his shopping. Wendy placed it in her trolley and watched him walk away.
Chapter 8
Evil Rising – 2004
By forty-two years of age, Frank Mortimer had amassed a mostly loyal group of followers. A handful were close, trustworthy friends; a number of others were sometime friends; there were many he considered as reliable employees, and others that were potentially reliable and recruitable, and finally there was the unreliables, who required some level of education from time to time, and who may be promoted to the reliable group or who may just disappear from the face of the earth. Progression from one group to another was a prospect facing everyone that knew Frank.
The business was drugs, mainly cocaine and amphetamines, and business had been good. The Find-Us Keep-Us Motel operated as a front for the business, with “customers” signing in for rooms and paying for extras such as massage; laundry and ironing; lavish dinners; local tours; and escort services. These clients booked in and paid but rarely ever stayed. Frank’s boys moved cars around, turned lights and music off and on so it appeared the place was at least partly occupied. The net result for Frank was successful laundering for some of his drug related income.
Frank was a short stocky man with red curly hair, and regardless of his mood he always had a trademark smile. Many found it hard to know if he was pleased with your work, or ready to cut your throat.
Today was his son’s birthday. Quentin had turned sixteen, but the Mortimers were not a family that celebrated much. Maybe if Frank moved a major shipment or attracted a wealthy client the family and closest of friends would live it up at a top-class restaurant. Tonight though, Quentin’s mother, Maureen, would cook her son his current most favourite meal for dinner – a thick eye fillet, cooked rare, with extra crispy shoestring fries and a rich thick gravy.
Quentin emerged from the pool, toweled himself off lightly, slipped on a pair of sunglasses and dropped onto a sun lounge face up. This was the Mortimer’s home – a new, two-storey, six-bedroom home on two hectares of securely fenced land. The home boasted garages for up to five vehicles, ducted air con, an ensuite for every bedroom, a rooftop entertainment area, and the latest security technology. Around the grounds there were a dozen discreetly placed surveillance cameras and more inside the home. Ronnie Bertram, a heavy-set man with a crew cut, was head of security at the premises.
‘Happy birthday, Quentin,’ said Ronnie as he cast a shadow over the sunbathing lad.
‘Thanks, big guy. Now move away you’re blocking my sun.’
Ronnie stepped aside, allowing the sun onto Quentin’s face. ‘Do you have any birthday plans?’ he asked.
‘Nothing that concerns you.’
‘Sixteen is often considered the transition into adulthood. Most teenagers celebrate it one way or another.’
‘Okay then, I’ll probably watch some S and M porn then jerk off when I’m done here,’ blurted Quentin. ‘Why don’t you go check the perimeter or take a look at the surveillance videos or something.’
