Pulling The Dragon's Tail (31 page)

Nate was dumbfounded. “But…how do you know
that?”

“Reliable sources,” said the reporter.

It was Campbell’s turn again. “Don’t make this
into an anti-religious rant, but I’ve had it up to here with
religious minded folks over the past few days. Chad’s a man of
principle alright, unprincipled
greed.
And what’s even
worse, he’s hoodwinked you.”

“Yep. Us religious-minded folks are just plain
dumb” said Nate, fawning an exaggerated southern accent.

“That’s not what I said!” protested
Campbell.

“I think you’ve wanted to say that all along.”
Nate threw down his napkin and forcefully pushed back his chair.
“Your anti-religious bias is incredible!”

“You’re doing a lot of jumping to conclusions,”
she said defiantly.

“For what it’s worth,” said Thatcher, trying to
find some middle ground, “I liked the guy at first too. He’s a cool
swashbuckler, sort of like me.”

“In your dreams,” rejoined Campbell.

Nate had lost his appetite; his plate of
sumptuous food only half eaten. “All right, I know full well that
Chad has a big ego, but he has a profound ministry here.”

“By creating psychotic breaks?” demanded
Campbell.

“I think if you saw these people, The Others, it
would help,” encouraged Thatcher.

“See them?” The last thing Nate wanted was to be
on another psych ward.

“I promise, not another word about the matter if
we can simply show you,” said Campbell.

Nate was now near the boiling point. “Dr.
Devereaux be quiet? Don’t make promises you can’t keep. As for
telling me what to do, this is my mission
. I
decide what to
do. And I’ve had just about enough from both of you, especially the
world’s greatest atheist!”

She stared quietly at him. Then she sighed
slowly. Campbell pushed her chair back from the table, screeching
it against the hardwood floor. Standing up slowly, she said with
resignation, “If I’m not wanted, I’ll leave. Besides, I’m tired of
this wild goose chase of yours, your secrets, all that shit. I’m
over it.”

Just before walking out the doorway, she turned
back and said gently, “I thought your calling was to follow Father
Abraham’s leading. Is it your mission or His?”

“Campbell! Wait!” The door clicked firmly behind
her. Nate looked over at Thatcher.

“I’m still on your leash but I don’t have to
like it.” For a moment, Thatcher stared sullenly at his cold food.
As he got up to leave, he added sarcastically, “Thanks, Dad.”

Minutes later, Thatcher found a brooding
Campbell upstairs. She was slowly packing.

“You’re really going?

She sat down on the edge of the bed. “Yep. Not
sure what to do next. Maybe I’ll go stay with Es for a few days, or
stay in town, or visit that horrible psych ward and raise holy
hell. Or just go back to the Ellis Clinic.”

“And your dream to find the truth about
Hilliard?”

She closed her eyes, her jaw set hard with a
mixture of pain and disgust. “Damn him for making this so
complicated.”

“Your grandfather, or Nate?”

She shook her head slowly. “Hmmm. Good point.
Maybe a couple days’ll give him enough time to come to his senses.
I’ve reached my limit.”

“About that limit,” added Thatcher. “I love
debates, but even I’m getting weary or you both haranguing each
other constantly.”

“A microcosm of the larger world, I guess,”
observed Campbell. “You won’t see me apologize. How can there be
any dialogue that’s constructive? Nate’s convinced he’s right in
believing that a deity, supertechnological it may be, is actively
involved in people’s lives; it’s what gives the universe ultimate
meaning. But I know just the opposite. I defy you to find a middle
ground of commonality to start from. It just can’t be done.”

“It’s sad,” noted Thatcher. “Microcosm or not,
it’s just sad. He’s a sincere, maybe misguided, man of faith. Lord
know I’ve seen the hypocrites. And you; you’re a moral, upright
person who’s just as sincere in trying to figure life out on this
backwater planet on the edge of a spinning galaxy. Of all the
people in the world who
could
have that constructive
dialogue, I thought it could be you and him.”

Her eyes burned into him. “One more fantasy of
yours shot to hell.

“Guess so.” He got up to leave.

“So where
you
going?”

“I dunno,” Thatcher answered. “Guess I’ll just
wander around. The park off the Via Dolorosa is a nice place to
catch up on some Net reading.”

“Okay,” said Campbell. “Maybe I’ll see you later
and—”

The door slammed shut. Thatcher was gone. Alone
with her thoughts, Campbell lay down on her bed to nap. But first
the tears came. Maybe her own rescue fantasy involving her
grandfather was a bit too grandiose. How did she end up running for
her life from a madman named Herschel Hatton that her grandfather
may have helped create?

And then there was the
other
man her
grandfather helped create, Nate. His religion drove her crazy.
Logically, it was her problem, not his.
He is a good man
,
she admitted,
loyal, caring, handy, passionate
. It was a
shame he couldn’t think more like her.

Meanwhile, Thatcher read voraciously for the
rest of the afternoon, silently thankful that Es and Nate at least
allowed him to reconnect to certain areas of the Net.
Gosh
,
he thought
, I’ve missed it so much.
First of all he caught
up on world events. Then he checked his e-mail at home and work.
Don Quixote
brought some comfort. Spinoza confused him—as
Spinoza was prone to do. But try as he might, his thoughts were
never far from his new friends-his only friends. It was a bit
unnerving; he couldn’t stop thinking about them and how much he
cared. As hard as he tried, he could not stop caring about their
plight.

Campbell napped for several hours. Later she
called the Ellis Clinic, making tentative plans to return next
week. Her aborted adventures she reasoned had still been worth the
investment of time, energy, and money
. Grandpa, I haven’t given
up on you. Wherever I go in the world, I promise to be a good
person, to help other people, to make the world better, to care for
my mind and body, and to be true to my ideals and friends
. She
nearly choked on the last confusing word.

Later, she headed for the gym. The workout room
in the basement of the Heaven on Earth headquarters was large and
spacious. Campbell Devereaux used the equipment for all it was
worth.

* * * * * *

Nate ran and prayed, Dugan at his heels. He
mentally reviewed the Eight Peace Steps of CHOFA as he ran: “We
admit we are powerless as individuals to successfully manage
upheavals resulting from technological improvements and human
folly. We came to believe that a Super Being who had first come to
Abraham the patriarch in has recently revisited us through Sister
Sarah. We follow the tenets and lifestyle of the Church of Abraham,
a commitment that is vital to propagate the evolution of the human
species. We work to complete a thousand days of personal retreat to
find spiritual enlightenment and one’s unique purpose. We admit our
failings, both as an individual and for our part as a
society/species of what we have done wrong. We commit to improve
ourselves through sacrifice in order to improve the strength and
viability of our species by making amends and correcting mistakes
whenever possible. We make a conscious commitment to never
intentionally harm a person or sentient being. We seek through
prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with Father
Abraham for His will to be done through us who have the power to
carry it out.”

The cleansing power of sweat and supplication
soothed his frustration. With his eyes open and face to the sky, he
cried out, “Father Abraham, forgive me. It is not my will, but
Yours. Why do I keep forgetting that? How do I fix my relationship
with Campbell? Humble me, dear Father. Teach me your way.”

He was walking on the trail that wound
throughout the domed complex, using its shade and soft ground to
cool down. A pastor, dressed in a three-piece suit and on his way
to preach, heard the last few words of Nate’s cry.

“My son,” he offered, “let me help you offer
your heartfelt petitions to the Lord.” And there on the trail,
sweat pouring off the CHOFA member, was another man of God bowing
his head. It was a short but powerful prayer. As Nate bent over,
panting, the pastor clenched his hands around the Bible. With his
eyes closed and head bowed, he sent out a prayer to help this
desperate young man find his way. Likewise, in his hour of need,
Nate touched each finger of his left hand to the corresponding
finger on his right. His eyes were wide open, and his face looked
to the sky.

Nate finished the prayer out loud, “Thank you,
Father.”

The minister looked at him and smiled, oblivious
to Nate’s faith. “God bless. Take care.”

Leaning over to stretch, Nate realized the
medallion had worked its way out of his shirt. He quickly put it
back inside.

* * * * * *

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” Nate told Chad over
supper later that evening.

“Oh! So soon?” The CEO had been preoccupied with
answering calls and emails over the meal. His full attention was
now on Nate
. Hmm, I may need to call Browning again.
“Wish
you could stay into the weekend. I know I’m busy, but I could have
some of my staff show you some of the places not yet on your
itinerary, sort of an insider’s tour.”

“That’s gracious of you, but I do have to
go.”

“Hmmm, so where’s the rest of your party?”

“Off packing, I guess.”

“I really want you to stay another day. Is there
any way I can entice you? Women? Money? Free tickets to the Stadium
Experience?”

“No, I’m sorry, but I said no.”
What is
this
, Nate thought,
everyone wants me to do their
bidding?

“Sorry, old buddy. I was just asking. It’ll be
lonely around here without you.”

“Oh, come on. You’ll have your women to keep you
warm,” teased Nate, hoping to lighten the mood.

Chad suddenly turned angry, his lip curled up
higher on its left side. As his face grew redder with rage, he
blurted out, “Have you been talking to my staff? That’s a damned
lie, understand?”

Nate was shocked. “I was just teasing.”

“You’d think that after all my hospitality,
you’d be more considerate!” snarled Chad. “After all my
hospitality!”

Nate was shocked. What had Campbell tried to
tell him earlier today? A narcissist is out for himself; often on
your side, until it is not convenient to be on your side any
longer. He’ll wine and dine you with a goal in mind, but his goal
is the only goal. If he’s crossed, you’ll have hell to pay.

The scales fell off Nate’s eyes.
Campbell,
you’re right, once again. Father, when will I ever learn? I hope
it’s not too late for her and me
.

Chad’s profanity-laced tirade was interrupted by
the loudspeaker. “Mr. Delavan, priority call, line seven.”

“Who the hell’s using my priority line?” He
clicked a button on his wrist monitor, and talked into the speaker
imbedded in his mouth, listening with the mike in his ear. “Hello?
Yes. Uh-huh. You’re early. Wonderful! Give me—um—about ten
minutes.”

To Nate’s utter amazement, Chad’s rage
disappeared at an astonishing speed.

A moment later, a huge grin hung on Chad’s
face.

Nervously, Nate asked, “Hey, Chad, I just want
to apologize for—”

“For what? That was nothing. Forget about
it.”

“Really? Guess that phone call made you
happy.”

Chad stared at him, the smile disappeared once
again. A moment of silence passed between them. The smile returned,
“Why yes, you could say that I am actually… very happy. I just
closed a business deal—a very good business deal.”

“That’s wonderful! Anything you can share?”

“Well,” replied Chad, a mischievous grin
crossing his face. “I tell nothing until a deal’s closed.”

Maybe
, thought Nate,
it was just
stress. How could he be so happy again so quickly? The job of
running this place must be getting to him.

Ratcheting up his courage, he asked his host
another question. “I’ve heard rumors, Chad, that are a bit
disturbing, and I thought you could clear them up.”

He appeared lost in thought. “Rumors you say?
This place is always dogged in rumors. So tell me the scuttle on
the street.”

“They—these people— say that the Stadium
Experience sometimes causes harm to people’s emotional well-being.
I had a hard time imagining that, but it’s been on my mind. So I
thought I’d ask you to clear it up.”

“Did you experience any problems with your
‘emotional well-being’ after the Stadium?” he asked pointedly.

“Um, no.”

“They’re bald-faced lies! Who said that?”

Nate gulped. “Um, well…”

“Who?” He glared unblinking at Nate. The angry
demon once again took possession of Chad. He stood up and slammed
his chair back against the table, causing several glasses to
break.

What else did Campbell tell him about
narcissists? Turning a small slight into an exaggeration? It was
more eloquent than that though.

“WHO?” Chad was in Nate’s face now. “Was it your
friends, Thatcher and Caroline?”

“Her name is Campbell. No—no,” he stammered. “Of
course not!”

“You’re a pretty poor liar, Mr. Church of
Abraham! I want to talk to them! Where are they?”

“I don’t know. But they’ve done nothing wrong!”
Nate stopped, realizing that saying any more sounded like an
admission of guilt.

Chad called his secretary. “Sasha, round up the
people staying as my guests. I want to talk to them now!”