The One Percenters Read online

  Now, however, it was beginning to catch up to me. I feared imprisonment, I felt guilt, and I was lonely. I had never been a people-person. Indeed, for the first nine months, I had enjoyed my forced super-independence. The grim reality was settling in that we are social creatures, even the freaks among us. I missed camaraderie, and I missed women. Physical affection and attention was becoming a priority. I decided that something needed to be done.

  I spent the day working my way eastward. At first I was on foot, but I borrowed a bicycle from a rack outside the library’s entrance. The risk was minimal, as there was no one in sight and I’d be a mile away in minutes. There wasn’t much to the decision process.

  I rode for the better part of four hours until I hit a decent-sized town. I can’t remember the name of the city now; details are becoming harder to recall. I stopped at a diner and asked a waitress if I could borrow a phone book. I was careful to keep a low profile. It suddenly occurred to me that I had absolutely no idea how one secures a call girl or how much their services cost. I had always seen those escort services listed by Page 103

  the dozens in the big cities. I assumed the process was one of picking and choosing. They probably wouldn’t have much of a rooting out process. I mean, how much power could you command if you had to sink to fucking in back alleys to make money? Just enough to get a-hold of some crack, I guess. Okay, that’s a stereotype.

  Forgive me, I’m just an angry man I guess.

  This was no big city, though. It isn’t exactly as though there is someone you can go to for advice in such a situation. I became angry and walked out of the diner, forced to spend another day alone. My gift was quickly becoming my burden. I felt anger towards the world for first providing me so little common sense in a society where it is crucial and then putting such a responsibility on my shoulders. I began to think it might be easier just to give up on life, but I had failed before at such a goal, and I was certain that I would fail again should I try. If Jill’s death hadn’t been enough inspiration, a little loneliness certainly wouldn’t do. I never even put the gun’s barrel to my head.

  Most of us are born with a dual link to our world: Mom and Dad. They ground us; give us a starting point, a meaning. Those of us who are lucky find them to be a source of love and inspiration as well. From them we find purpose: to go forth, aim for success—

  whatever that means—breed, and die. Along the way we encounter fortune and famine, and gather resources which hopefully enable us make some sort of sense of our surroundings.

  Sure, there is help along the way, in friends for instance. Perhaps a handful of people can be counted upon for guidance and support, with the rest serving as drinking buddies and golf partners but never really forging a heartfelt relationship. We might find reassurance in pets, in our work, in the attitudes of those around us. Often we do not. On the days when it is cloudy, when our bus is late, when our stomachs are queasy, we feel as though it will never get better. Soon, though, we find renewed solace from whatever escapes we have chosen for ourselves.

  In the end, our parents typically have the largest role in our lives. When we lose them, we suddenly feel Page 104

  lost and very, very naive. The world is very large, and we are very small. Our link to the past is gone, and this frightens us to the bone. We look around and see myriad dangers over the horizon. If we are old enough and established enough, we persevere. It is not so easy on the young. Orphanages across the land house numerous people who have an uphill battle in front of them. Yes, the loss of one’s parents is extreme.

  Imagine losing an entire society—a culture—

  and you get some sense of what it feels like to be on the run. There is nowhere to run, no one in whom to take solace. Some forge new identities and hide within the false shelter it creates for them. Me? I never had a shelter to begin with. I was a natural pariah who, due to circumstances not within my control, had now attained a new outcast status. I needed to channel my anger and frustration into my work and find some measure of success in it in order to regain a sense of pride and self. I decided I needed someone to share this feeling with. I could never replace Jill, for she was unmatched in this world. But I needed someone, and it would have to be soon.

  As it turned out, it was the very next day.

  Page 105

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  I had visited museums frequently in my youth. I was especially fond of natural history museums and the fossil evidence they contain. I was interested in what scientists call biological parallelism—similar adaptation over time in different species. The forearm in primates, for example, is akin to the fins of a fish and the wings of a bird. At least I think that’s right. I’m no scientist.

  Anyway, I find this all rather dazzling. Two creatures, perhaps unrelated, adapting similar physical structures, modified or enhanced only in response to different physical pressures. To me, it implies a purpose, although the evolutionists out there insist there is no greater scheme. Bollix! That’s just politics speaking.

  Life is purpose. The development of language, the response to new and different diseases, and the creation of new species—it’s all rather tidy. Sometimes nature’s adaptations can even provide a little comic relief. Need I mention flatulence? What would the world be without a cutting fart? No, there is a purpose that we cower from. While I couldn’t tell you what this purpose to life on Earth is, I knew that I had an active role in its progression, and that’s more than most people can say. The only true control we have over our lives is awareness. I planned to make the best of my newfound awareness.

  As I said, the next day I made a friend. It was Samantha James, the girl in the woods. I have told you our beginnings; I was in a rush to do so. I felt it was important. But our initial contact was now behind us.

  Her eyes focused on me intently, as if studying me. I could see fear, but not terror. It was as though she were trying to hide her anxiety, as if I was a stray dog and could sense it if she showed a hint of despair.

  Oh, child, what have they taught you in this world of yours? Even now, I am forced to laugh.

  I continued, since she seemed hesitant. Her Page 106

  indecision was understandable, for she was new to this and I’d had a year to prepare for our rendezvous in the woods. Had it been a year already? It seemed like only yesterday that inspiration had struck me.

  “Relax, I’m no stalker, no hell worm. I am just a man with a cause who needs someone to listen. It’s hard finding someone to listen, wouldn’t you agree?

  To really listen, I mean.” Many people inject random

  “mm-hmms” and wait for their turn to speak. They never really listen.

  After a few seconds elapsed, she nodded her head almost imperceptibly. I figured she was humoring me. I do not like to be humored.

  “You were probably prom queen,” I said. She looked up at me quizzically. Women often look at me quizzically, typically for the wrong reasons. I suppose I’m more of a figure of morbid curiosity than one of intrigue. Fair enough.

  “Am I right? Prom queen?” I got no response.

  This cat-and-mousing was starting to irritate me.

  “Come on, Sam. Tell me, were you prom queen?

  Belle of the ball? It is in your best interest to answer.

  Friendships are based on trust. You should know that.”

  “No.” She shook her head slowly to reinforce the answer.“Really? I’m surprised. Well, I’m sure you were a popular thing in school, nonetheless. I can’t imagine why you might be cashiering, though. A girl like you, I figured someone to be looking after you, caring for you, providing for you.” I looked at her hand; there was no ring. I didn’t see Sam as the type to reject an old tradition, so I took her to be single.

  “Sam, I don’t ask that you speak much. I understand your situation here. Trust takes time.

  Perhaps later you will wish to contribute to the conversation. For now, I only ask you to listen. Would you care for a drink first?” I had a gallon jug
of water with me, which I now lifted from the ground beside us. She glanced at the jug, and I could see from her first reaction that she was thirsty, dehydrated.

  “No.” There was a pause, then: “No, thank Page 107

  you.” Ahh, politeness. They are always polite, hoping to appease their captor. Hollywood doesn’t lie. If only I could explain to her that I was not a kidnaper, that I was no shadowy figure who lurks in bushes behind college dormitories. Alas, I could not, and I suppose this is why she turned down the water she so clearly desired. I drank in large sips from the jug, not to make her envious, but to try to encourage her to do the same.

  Besides, I was thirsty too.

  “All right, Sam. If you change your mind, let me know. We’re in this thing together, you know, at least for a little while.” The last of that sentence gave her a start. “No, Sam. I just meant. .” I trailed off, realizing that she wouldn’t believe me anyway. No need to waste my breath on that. I had enough to say as it was.

  “Sam, you seem like a bright girl. I’m sure you’ve heard of evolution.” Of course she had, but like they say, even the longest journey. .

  At first there was no response, and I almost rolled right into my next sentence, willing to make the assumption. Finally, it seems, she surprised me with a little ribbing—probably just a defense mechanism. I could respect that.

  “I’m Catholic,” she said.

  This time I took my time in replying.

  “Oh, really, and a staunch Catholic at that, I am sure. Church every week and such. But I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. Am I correct to take your response to mean you don’t believe in evolution?” She didn’t answer, probably afraid now of giving the wrong answer. I waited for a response.

  “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know, or you’re afraid to answer?

  Because there is nothing to fear here, Sam, except ignorance.” Again a wait. I touched her cheek, and she shied away from me. Exasperated by the circumstances, she replied at last.

  “I. .I believe.”

  “Good. That’s settled, so we can move on.” I sipped from my water bottle again, and made a gesture to offer her some, but she turned her shoulders away.

  Page 108

  “Samantha, for a long time I wandered the Earth, just as you do, wondering what my purpose here is and how it managed to stealthily elude me. Certainly we can’t all be here to drink beer, sell cars, and tattoo our asses.” I paused to look at a chipmunk in the clearing.

  That small creature seemed at that moment to have plenty of purpose. Boy, those sons of bitches are as cute as buttons, ain’t they? The sun was coming out, the rainwater on the leafy floor glistened, and all was right with the world. Moments such as that are rare in this life.“Finally, following the death of someone I loved very dearly, I realized my purpose here.” I noticed that I had put another start into my new friend. “I didn’t kill her, Sam. She was taken from me by the vile filth of which I now rid the world, but that can wait a moment.

  Here, I insist.” I held the jug of water to her lips, and at last she drank. Thirst won out in the end; it always does. “I’ll spare you the techno-talk; I’m not one for jargon. The essence of it all is that our genes are passed on in a wonderful process that, despite what you might hear, works toward a greater good. The problem, though, is that we’ve fouled up the works. Instead of taking nature for the generous mother she is, we’ve trashed her system.

  Our technology and our greed are making evolution obsolete; the ill-minded and ill-bodied now survive. It’s rather alarming. But the Earth is resilient, as you well know, Sam. People like me are put here to level the playing field. You see, I am but one of one percent of the population who have the enviable job of reestablishing natural force as the force to be reckoned with, as it should be. Do you understand?” The look in her eyes screamed, “Murderer. ” I was saddened by this. I had hoped for more. She was so young, I thought she might yet be unfazed by the garbage our heads are filled with by the media and others out for no damn good.

  “Please, Sam, say something.”

  To my surprise and relief, her response was immediate.

  Page 109

  “What do you want?”

  “Aren’t you listening?” It was an angry tone. I settled myself. “I want you to listen, and hopefully to accept. I am letting you in on the world’s biggest secret.

  It took an unfortunate and untimely death to make me wake up. I am trying to save you the same pain.

  You see, we can help each other. You can lend me an unaffected ear, and I can teach you.” She had her head down.

  “You are young and obviously bored with the world. I hoped—I still hope—that you will be open to new opportunity, to new ideas.” My train of thought had been interrupted. I gathered myself. “Do you have a boyfriend, Samantha?” I sensed fear once again. “I ask you this only because I hope you have someone you can love as much as I loved my wife. Only through love are we able to see the world with passionate and curious eyes. We are inspired by one another.”

  “No. No boyfriend.”

  I doubted the validity of this statement, but gave her the benefit of the doubt.

  “That’s too bad. I’m sure you will find your happiness in time. Anyway, there is not much more to tell. I thought it would take forever to explain, but like anything else, when you weed out the extraneous crap, it’s all fairly basic stuff. Good versus evil, just like in the movies. Now, I have told you so much about me, but true understanding is a two-way street.” She didn’t take the hint, or at least she didn’t lead on that way. I continued.

  “What do you like to do?”

  She didn’t answer. I was prepared for it. I had been alone for most of a year. I could wait. “It’s O.K.

  Take your time. I’m in no hurry. I stepped behind her to let nature work for me for a change. I urinated on the wet forest floor and felt great relief in my midsection.

  Steam wafted up from the ground, and a sweet smell found my nostrils.

  “I like to bike ride and to read.”

  “Reading. Very good.” I zipped up my fly and returned to my space in front of her. There was a mild burning in my abdomen. I continued: Page 110

  “Yes, books are a very good start. We should remember, though, that they merely act as inspiration and guidance. It is easy to forget about the larger world beyond. What type do you read?”

  She dug her foot into the soft ground. “Romance.”

  “Well, I must say, I am disappointed. A bright girl like you reading such trash. Besides, true romance awaits you in the real world. Why look to the uncaring pages of a book to find it?”

  She must have taken the last to be rhetorical, so I repeated myself.

  “Why look to the uncaring pages of a book to find it?”“I like reading about it. It’s..comforting.”

  “Ah, yes, it is, isn’t it?” That one was rhetorical, and she took it as such. “What would you like to do with your life?” I took a cracker from my pocket and nibbled its edge. It was salty, and I spat it out onto the leaves below me.

  “Teach.”

  “A very noble desire. Certainly it is. But what can we teach if we refuse to learn?” Admittedly, I was beginning to sound a little self-important, pretentious even. But it was my spotlight now, after all these years.

  I stifled a laugh.

  “Kindergarten.” This time I couldn’t stifle.

  After all, we don’t really teach kindergartners much of anything except how to share and get along. Come to think of it, maybe these are the most important things to know. I know more than one person who could use a refresher course.

  “Very good, Sam, very good. Are you in college?”

  “No.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Money.”

  “Ah, yes, money. It all comes down to that, doesn’t it? You need it to get it. Well, certainly you will find a way. A mind like yours should not be wasted.

  You are so bright. . and beautiful
. You remind me of someone I once knew.” There was a long quiet.

  Finally, she asked: “Your wife?”

  “Hmm. That’s very perceptive of you, and Page 111

  also very presumptuous, but I give you full credit for listening. What is it you kids say? Props?” The sun was out in its full golden suit by now. “My Jill was both a beauty and a smart woman, I must admit. She had the double barrel effect going for her. A very rare creature.

  I’d give just about anything for five minutes with her.

  And do you know what I’d do with those minutes?”

  “I can imagine.” Apparently her fear was quelling.

  This was good. I wanted her to feel comfortable. Her eyes were still red, though. I knew that the fear still remained inside. She probably just didn’t want to piss me off.“You’re wrong. I’d use my five minutes to thank her with every ounce of my being. She was my light.

  She was my fire. She was everything to me, more than I deserved. And some bastard took her from me. Do you know how that feels?”

  “No.”

  “It’s gut-wrenching. It tears your heart out.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” Her voice was still weak and fluttering. She hid her eyes from me when she spoke. I wished that I could have met her in a bar and had this conversation under different circumstances. I felt I could have loved her. I knew she would have loved me. My voice is soothing. I’m quite charismatic for someone so invisible.

  “Because I needed to tell someone, and as I told you, you are young and innocent of the indifference that befalls us as we age.”

  I had smoked several cigarettes during the course of our discussion, and they were forming a pile in front of me. I am mildly obsessive compulsive. I like neat piles, straight lines. It is an affliction, and not one I’d wish upon anyone.

  “I am afraid, Sam. Why, you ask?” I did not wait for her to ask; I knew she wouldn’t.

  “I am afraid because I am alone in the world. My father was in my life only for a short time. My mother no longer is. My wife died. My girlfriend died.” I saw Sam react to this. “Again, not me. It was diabetes.” I lied, yes, but only because she would never understand the truth. Too much too fast. “I am alone.” Page 112