Infinite Testament (15 page)

Many years before Bruce met Kristen, he was a senior in
high school. Then, his sights were set on another girl: Sara Ixley, the
sweetheart of the school. Her popularity worried her father, the dean,
Mr. Ixley. To him, boys her age were stupid. Hormones raged and
their minds were underdeveloped. Luckily, he could keep an eye on her all
the time. Most unluckily for him, she accepted an invitation to prom from
Bruce, his arch nemesis for years. How she could fall for such a loser
defied his understanding.

Sara sat in homeroom, patiently waiting for the bell to
ring, signaling her transition to class. Her teacher, Mrs. Gilligan, a
short woman with puffy hair who reminded her of a munchkin from
The
Wizard
Of Oz
, stood at the front of the class and meticulously took
attendance. The room was packed with dozens of polo-wearing students
(their mandatory uniforms) sitting at their desks. Mrs. Gilligan had firm
control in her classroom and demanded the silence of the students. Sara,
of course, obliged.

At the front of the room, in the doorway, appeared Stephen
Pandora. Sara smiled. Stephen and Bruce always made her
laugh. Their highjinks were highly entertaining. As much as her
father disapproved, she approved. Stephen’s collar was popped in a simple
act of defiance. “How’s it going, Gilligan?”

Mrs. Gilligan pounced her disciplinary judgment on
Stephen. “How did you get out of your homeroom?”

Stephen played stupid. “This isn’t my homeroom?”

“Okay Mr. Pandora. If you don’t get back to where you
belong, I’m going to give you a pink slip.” Uh-oh. The feared pink
slip. Stephen had a collection of the infamous VIP tickets to
after-school detention.

“Can you show me where my homeroom is? I’m lost.”

The students snickered. If there was one thing they
enjoyed, it was watching Mrs. Gilligan get riled up. While Stephen was
distracting Mrs. Gilligan, Bruce slipped into the back entrance of the
room. He weaved his way through the desks and snuck behind Sara.

“Hey Sara,” he whispered into her ear.

She turned around with great surprise to see Bruce gazing
at her. The innocence twinkled in her eyes as she looked at Bruce.
“What are you doing here? You’ll get in trouble.”

“What? Get detention? I already have, like,
twenty I haven’t served yet.”

Sara chuckled and grabbed Bruce’s hand. “I can’t wait
to go out tonight.”

“Me too,” Bruce replied, “Did you tell your dad yet?”

“I told him about prom. Nothing else.”

Stephen was still occupied with distracting Mrs.
Gilligan. “Okay, so down the hall and first room on the
right
?”
It wouldn’t last much longer and she was already pulling her stack of pink
slips from her pocket.

Suddenly, a voice filled the air. It was the
intercom. It blandly announced, “Bruce Dennett to the dean’s office,
please. Bruce Dennett to the dean’s office.”

Bruce stood up and came out of hiding. Getting caught
no longer mattered. Stephen vanished from the doorway. Bruce glanced
at Sara, who looked at him with great concern.

“I might not make it out of this one.”

Bruce sat in Mr. Ixley’s tiny, dimly lit office. It
was a familiar sight. But this felt more serious. Never had the
conflict between them been so personal. The confidence Bruce usually
exuded in this situation melted away, revealing a frailty Mr. Ixley would
gladly exploit.

“So Bruce,” Mr. Ixley said, sitting directly across from
him, “I heard the news.”

“What news is that?”

Mr. Ixley leaned forward and folded his hands.
Instead of speaking, he stared through his glasses. Several seconds
passed. Bruce stared back at him. Where was this going? Bruce
looked around the room. He had always appreciated the dim lighting.
It was daunting, like a jail cell. “I like the lighting in here,” Bruce
declared.

Mr. Ixley didn’t move. His continued staring at
Bruce. It was creepy. Was he using mind tricks? “You’re kinda
creepy, Ixley.”

Mr. Ixley pounded his fist on the desk. “You have
taken this too far, Bruce! She is my daughter!” The veins on his
forehead protruded. He was mad. Really mad.

“I think you’re taking this the wrong way,” Bruce
said. “In fact, she was too scared to even tell you that we’re
dating
.”

Mr. Ixley’s face flushed. Maybe that wasn’t the best
way to break the news to him. If he wasn’t the dean, he would probably
sock Bruce in the face.

“This isn’t about you,” Bruce added. “I liked a
girl. And she happened to be your daughter. I’m not doing this to
get at you.”

That provided no solace for Mr. Ixley. “Let me tell
you something, Bruce. I am the dean of this school. If you screw
up, just once, I can get you expelled. Just remember that.”

The bell rang. Homeroom was over. It was time
for the students to move on to their classes. Bruce stood up. “So
are we done?”

“No. We’re not.”

Bruce rolled his eyes. Mr. Ixley didn’t care if Bruce
was late to class. Just another detention for him to serve.

Bruce’s eyes wandered and settled on a dirty old leather book
that rested on Mr. Ixley’s desk. The cover had a logo: an X with a circle
around it. It was the same formation Bruce found in the forest when he
met Pocahontas. Bruce stared at the familiar symbol. Mr. Ixley
looked at his expression with great wonderment. It was almost as if Bruce
recognized the book that sat on his desk.

“What are you doing, Bruce? Sit down.”

Bruce realized how obvious he made himself when spotting
the book. Did Mr. Ixley notice? There was no way to tell. All
Bruce could do was obediently follow directions and sit.

The door behind Bruce whipped open. Sara Ixley walked
in. Mr. Ixley promptly covered the X book with another book. He was
hiding it from Sara? That meant she had no idea what he was up to.

“Why is Bruce in here, Daddy?”

Mr. Ixley’s heated anger vanished like the wind.
“Sweetheart,” he said, “We’re just talking.”

Sara looked at Bruce for verification. Bruce had
never seen her so… determined. “Leave him alone.” She held out her
hand. “Come on, Bruce.” She was bailing him out.

Bruce looked wide-eyed at Mr. Ixley then at Sara
Ixley. This was not good. No matter what he did, he was
screwed. And now, the Ixleys were turning on each other. Bruce
stood up, intently watching. Mr. Ixley was infuriated and itched to
verbally attack, but held it in for the sake of his daughter.

Sara hanged on Bruce’s side. He held his hand out to
Mr. Ixley. “I want to make this work.” His hand floated in the air,
waiting to be shaken. It could’ve waited forever. There was no handshake
coming.

“Goodbye Bruce. Two months until prom. Break
her heart and I’ll break your neck.”

Bruce stared at Mr. Ixley as he and Sara left his office.

Bruce had officially moved in with Kristen and had been
living with her for two months. Living between Michigan and Michigan
State was a situation that suited both of them. They were right between
their respective schools and it was an easy commute. Sure, he’d see
Stephen less, but he got to be with Kristen all the time.

On this summer day, Kristen managed to coerce Bruce into
going to Michigan State to help her buy books for her classes. As Kristen
sorted through the endless shelves of books, Bruce grew bored.
Quickly. He wandered off, eventually finding his way outside.
Across the street from the bookstore was a small cafeteria. With any
luck, they’d have cinnamon rolls. He would do anything for a cinnamon
roll right now.

He ventured across the street and entered the
cafeteria. It was a small, boutique coffee shop-type place. There
were only a few people inside, sipping on coffee and eating pastries.
Bruce looked at the bakery offerings through the clear-rounded glass.
There were cookies, breads, and rolls. Bruce perused the tiny signs that
indicated the names of the pastries and saw the one he was looking for:
‘Cinnamon Rolls’. Much to his chagrin, there were no actual cinnamon
rolls behind the sign. They were out!

“Excuse me,” Bruce said to the young teenage girl behind
the counter, “You’re out of cinnamon rolls!?”

“Yes,” she replied. “No more for the day.”

Bruce slapped the glass in disappointment. He stared
at the sign, wishing a cinnamon roll would appear.

“Bruce?” a male voice asked.

Bruce looked around. Who said that? He examined
the faces of the coffee shop, all of which were paying no attention to
him. Standing mere feet from him, he found the culprit: Mr. Ixley.
He looked older, but only slightly. He had aged well over the
years. Even more, he was holding a cinnamon roll in his hand.

Mr. Ixley smiled through his glasses. “What are you
doing here, old friend?”

“My girlfriend is buying books across the street. I
came here for a cinnamon roll.”

“Go figure,” Mr. Ixley said, “I’m here doing the exact same
thing with Sara.”

Bruce smiled. It was good to see him. And he looked
great. Bruce approached him to give him a hug. Mr. Ixley gladly
accepted and hugged him back. They embraced, like best friends who had
been apart for years. “Tell you what,” Mr. Ixley said, “Take half my
cinnamon roll.” Mr. Ixley ripped his cinnamon roll and offered some to
Bruce.

Bruce laughed. “Thanks.” He graciously accepted
it.

“So you have a new girlfriend, huh?” Mr. Ixley asked.

“Yeah,” Bruce said. “How about Sara? Is she
going out with anyone?”

“Oh yeah. Some cheerleader guy. I don’t like
him. You should try getting back together with her. If things don’t
work out with this new girl, give her a call, will you?”

Bruce smiled. He might call her even if things
did
work out with Kristen. Despite his best attempts over the years to quell
his feelings for Sara, he simply couldn’t do it.

“You still working at the school?”

“Yep, still there,” Mr. Ixley said. “You should be
graduating soon, right? If you ever need a job, come by and we’ll get you
in. No questions asked.”

“Thanks, Mr. Ixley. I appreciate it.”

“No problem, Bruce. It’s good to see you.” Mr.
Ixley held out his hand. It floated in the air, waiting to be
shaken.

Bruce shook it.

Their relationship had forever changed on that fateful
night.

Prom night.

What was supposed to be a magical night of romance
for Bruce and Sara turned into a disaster of epic proportions that
ultimately ended their relationship and almost caused Sara to take her own
life.

Bruce, sporting a fancy tuxedo, was deep in Mr. Ixley’s
closet. He had uncovered a door with a circled X that had a daunting look
to it. Not surprisingly, it was the same symbol he had seen several times
before. Bruce could only imagine what was behind this door. The
answers to every question he ever wondered about that night in the forest
awaited him.

Bruce put his hand on the doorknob and creaked opened the
door. He looked inside.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Mr. Ixley said.

Mr. Ixley was standing at the entrance to the closet.
There was no escape.

Bruce’s bladder was definitely calling now.

“Oh, I’m sorry. This isn’t the way to the bathroom?”

Mr. Ixley stood with his arms folded. He wasn’t a
muscular or large man by any means. But he had never been scarier.

Mr. Ixley spoke up. “It was you, wasn’t it?”

Bruce’s mouth slightly dropped open. He was so
shocked, he didn’t know what to say.

“In the forest. It was you and Stephen.” Mr.
Ixley laughed in disgust. “I should’ve figured as much. You two
can’t stay out of trouble for your life.”

Bruce managed to move his lifeless mouth just enough to
ask, “What is the X circle?”

Mr. Ixley’s smile radiated with menace as he paced towards
him. “Was it you that hit me with a branch?”

“Stay back,” Bruce said as he held his hands out.
“I’ll go in there,” he threatened. The ancient X door remained open,
daring Bruce to enter. Beyond the door was pure blackness; too dark for
Bruce to make sense of what was inside.

Mr. Ixley froze. “Don’t do that,” he implored.

“Tell me what the hell you’ve been up to! Or I’m
walking in and finding out myself!”

Mr. Ixley transformed his tone. He was now calm and
inviting. “Don’t do this. It’s prom. Go out with Sara and
show her a good time. She deserves it. Forget about this whole
thing and go have fun.”

Bruce couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Just
like that? Go have
fun
?! After all the misery you put us
through for going out?” Bruce stared at him. The power had shifted
to his corner. But part of what Mr. Ixley said was right.
Bruce needed to get going. He was going to show Sara a good time.
Nothing would stop that. Not even a crazy cult leader. But he
needed to know first. “What have you been up to? Are you a nazi?”

Mr. Ixley smiled cautiously. He wasn’t a nazi.
He was far from being a hateful buffoon. “Bruce…” He took a breath
and reluctantly continued, “...I’m trying to save the world.”

What? Save the world? Mr. Ixley wasn’t the
type. Not by a longshot. “Save the world from what?”

“Not like that.” Mr. Ixley again inched toward
Bruce. “Come on, Bruce.” Mr. Ixley shot his hand out for Bruce to
grab. Unfortunately, it shot out a little too quickly.

It scared the wits out of Bruce and caused him to fall
backwards into the X room. He landed with a thump on his side.
Bruce looked around. It was hard to make out much of anything. It
was too dark. A dim blue hue flooded the room. Bruce noticed a
figure towering over him. He looked up and could visibly see the outline
of the head and shoulders of a man. His heart began to race. He
squinted his eyes to try to get a better look when unexpectedly, he was yanked
by his feet. Mr. Ixley pulled him out and slammed the X door shut.

Bruce found himself on the floor of the closet. His suit
jacket was covered in dust. His heart rate was slowly coming back
down. Mr. Ixley stood over him and offered his hand once again.
“Don’t tell Sara about this. Alright?”

Bruce grabbed his hand. “Alright.”

Mr. Ixley helped him to his feet.

“Who’s in there?”

Mr. Ixley looked perplexed. “There’s no one in
there.” Bruce hesitantly accepted the response. As much as he
wanted answers, he had to get to Sara. He would find out later. He
had Mr. Ixley right where he wanted him. Bruce and Mr. Ixley proceeded
downstairs.

As Bruce descended, he witnessed an anxiously waiting
Sara. She was with her mother, Rachel. It was ironic: Bruce had
envisioned this scenario with their positions swapped.

Sara was beautiful. Stunning. Gorgeous.
The sweetheart of the school didn’t disappoint. She never did. Her
blonde hair was tied fancily above her head. There had to be a hundred
bobby pins holding it in place. Her red dress flowed from her hips,
conservatively showing off her perfect figure. Sara sparkled.

As Bruce reached her, he awkwardly paused. Should he
kiss her? Hug her? Mr. Ixley and Rachel were watching, after
all. Instead, he uttered, “You’re beautiful.”

Sara blushed. “Why is your coat so dirty?”

Bruce glanced at his side: it was full of thick dust from
the X room. He looked at Mr. Ixley, who nervously awaited his
answer. Would he tell her what happened?

“I… umm… fell…”

Mr. Ixley’s eyes grew wide.

Bruce continued, “It was stupid. I slipped in the
street before getting in the car.” He looked at Mr. Ixley, whose fears
seemed appeased. Mr. Ixley checked Sara, who seemed to tentatively accept
his explanation. “The street was really dirty… Street sweeping is usually
tomorrow. So… it all built up.” He was rambling now. “And
when I fell, all the stuff in the street got in my jacket. I guess I
should have cleaned it but I was excited to get over here and…”

“Okay,” Mr. Ixley interrupted, eager to end his
rambling. “Are we all ready to go?”

“Yes,” Bruce affirmed.

“Good. So Rachel and I will follow you to
Stephen’s. Right?”

“Then we’ll take some pictures and be on with it,” Bruce
said.

Great. It was Mr. Ixley’s worst nightmare coming
true. He was going to Stephen’s house with Bruce, who was taking his
daughter to prom. He couldn’t have written it worse if he tried.

Minutes later, Mr. Ixley drove with his wife, Rachel, in
his black SUV. He was following Bruce’s worn down car.

“She’ll be okay,” Rachel said, doing her best to comfort
her husband. “We raised her well. She won’t do anything stupid.”

Mr. Ixley smiled. The women of his life meant the
world to him. They were the only light in an otherwise bleak world.
He held her hand. “What would I do without you?”

“You’d be a cranky man.”

Mr. Ixley laughed. There were plenty of students who
would claim he was already a cranky man.

“Ya know,” Rachel said, “Bruce seems to care for her.
And even so, she’ll have plenty of boyfriends. You never know.
Bruce might turn out to be your favorite someday.”

Fat chance.

Bruce drove with Sara. “I’m so excited!” she
proclaimed

Bruce was excited too. They were mere blocks away
from Stephen’s house. Taking pictures was a mandatory part of prom, and
the part Bruce was not looking forward to. But it would be over soon and
they would be on to the main event.

Bruce and Sara approached a red light and came to a
stop. Cars zipped through the intersection in front of them. The
roads seemed less crowded than usual. Bruce tapped on the wheel with his
fingers as he anxiously waited for his turn to go through the
intersection. Bruce watched in his rearview mirror as Mr. Ixley’s black
SUV came to a stop. He saw Mr. Ixley. Smiling. It was a sight
he didn’t expect to see. Rachel must’ve cheered him up. Maybe the
night wouldn’t be mired by Mr. Ixley after all. The light changed.
Green. Bruce accelerated and unintentionally slammed on the gas. He
didn’t realize how hard he slammed and he flew through the intersection.

He peered in his rearview mirror. Mr. Ixley
accelerated, but nowhere near as hurriedly as Bruce. Bruce heard a loud,
almost deafening, horn. It was thicker in volume than a typical car
horn. No, this was something different. It was a huge cargo
carrying truck.

It stormed into sight in his rearview mirror and headed
straight for Mr. Ixley’s SUV. Bruce’s heart stopped. A terrible
knotting tied in his stomach. “Shit!” He slammed on the
brakes. There was nothing he could do.

The truck plowed into Mr. Ixley’s SUV from the passenger
side. The truck’s attempts to stop had failed miserably. Mr.
Ixley’s SUV was hit with such a force, it was sent rocketing helplessly toward
a streetlight.

Bruce slammed the car into park, leapt out of his car, and
sprinted toward the still flailing SUV. Sara screamed in horror as she
watched the vehicle holding her parents slide uncontrollably. The front
of the SUV clipped the streetlight, causing it to spin wildly. The SUV
could only take so much. It slammed on its side and continued its violent
slide until it rolled and disappeared into a ditch.

Bruce tore off his jacket as he hurried over the burned
grass. There it was: down in a ditch, crunched up like an accordion,
resting on the passenger side. A fire had broken out under the hood and
smoke was pouring out into the sky.

There was no way this nightmare was happening.

Bruce hustled into the ditch. He climbed onto the top
of the SUV, which was now the driver’s side door, and looked in the
window. Mr. Ixley glared at him shell-shocked. Bruce opened the
door and whipped it aside.

“Are you guys alright?” Bruce asked.

Mr. Ixley stared at him. The airbag had inflated and
was resting on his face. There was blood dripping from his forehead and
he had a thick cut running perpendicularly over his right eye. Luckily,
his eye was still intact, but he would need stitches to close the wound.
“Bruce?” Mr. Ixley asked, clearly delirious.

Bruce couldn’t see Rachel. Mr. Ixley and the airbag
obstructed his view. “Come on, Mr. Ixley! We have to get out of
here! The engine’s on fire. It’s going to spread! We don’t
have much time!”

With tears in his eyes, Mr. Ixley begged, “Please
Bruce. Help my wife.”

“I can’t get to her! We have to get you out
first! Let’s go!” Bruce extended his hand to Mr. Ixley. Bruce
crouched his legs on top of the SUV, ready to yank out Mr. Ixley.

“Are you alright?” a voice muttered from the passenger
seat. Mr. Ixley looked at his wife. She was unscathed.
Perfectly fine. Not a scratch on her. They were just thrown around
like rag dolls. How did she pull that off?