Crossing the street was difficult. You could cross diagonally, but that would expose you to four directions of traffic. So you chose to walk up one street, then across another. This meant you had to look over your shoulder twice, and you despised this the most. Fortunately, no cars were coming, so the experience was brief.
You continued walking. The sidewalks were busy but you pretended not to notice. You stared at the ground to avoid anyone who might recognize you. Across the street, in a churchyard, a Russian Orthodox priest handed out some leaflets. It was windy, and, when some flew out of his hand, they were carried across the street and into your path. He immediately began retrieving the leaflets and several people helped him by gathering the ones nearest to them. You continued walking, however, and as you kept your gaze to the ground you noticed that three of the leaflets had caught themselves under your feet.
It was only a few more blocks to the store, but it was the last two that you dreaded the most. The heat suddenly increased as the sun appeared over the top of the bank. You were happier when the sun was hidden. But you were going inside soon, so it really didn’t matter.
Every Saturday, for the past three months, you passed by this corner; and each time it got increasingly difficult not to look at them. They asked you for money but you said nothing. You tried, but you couldn’t keep your eyes away from their faces. Their faces formed a hostile procession as you walked by. Their yellow teeth only hinted at their desire to reach out and grab you, but their yellow eyes finalized the matter. You vowed not to submit; you had to be strong. But their continual glare chilled you, and you wanted to rest.
You walked forward but you felt held back. An image from something you read ran through your mind. (You lay bleeding, physically damaged and publicly humiliated. The sun beat down purposely upon you, and all of its power exploded in your brain. A quick trial followed. You were tried and you were found innocent. So they left you on the sidewalk, alone, bleeding and voiceless.) You forced yourself to stop the image. You convinced yourself that there was nothing to fear and you walked into the store.
Mark was inside, and when he saw you he approached you with a smile. “Chris, I’m glad you came. That was great what you did; I’m sure Terry will be grateful.” Mark was on his way out. He explained that he had a busy day planned, but he would try to stop by later. You grinned and said, “Okay.”
You had forgotten about Terry. But what you did for her was out of necessity, not compassion. It didn’t really matter what the others thought. If they thought you did it out of good will, then that was fine. In fact, it was probably better.
After a few hours in the store you became dizzy. Mr. Getz noticed and he told you to relax. He said that you could go home if you wanted. Later he insisted; but you refused. You couldn’t bring yourself to leave.
You found a deserted corner in the camping department. It was behind a tent, and you felt no one would bother you if you sat there for awhile. You wanted to collect your thoughts, unwind, and get into control. You began thinking about Father Maloney. He had been helping you get thought he past three months, and he told you to call whenever you felt the need. The number was in your pocket and you pulled it out. You already memorized the number, but you looked at it again to be certain.
When you woke up you were thirsty. Mr. Getz and several others were standing above you. Mr. Getz said he had phoned the police, and that if you didn’t leave they would take you. “Can I please have some water?” you said, but nobody heard you. Someone said that you had “lost it” and that you belonged in a nuthouse. You repeated you request for water, and Mr. Getz mentioned that there was a water fountain near when of the exits.
When you were leaving, Mark came back in. He was carrying a manikin. Without hesitation, you seized the manikin and ran toward the door. You pushed the door with your left hand and as you went through you heard a thud. The manikin hit the side of the wall, causing a crack to form from its right eye to the top of its skull.
It was still day when you ran out to the street. There was no one in front of the store this time, but you didn’t notice. You ran across the street without looking, though you knew people were amused to see someone running at full speed with a manikin clutched under her arm. One man chased after you for a block, but then he gave up.
You finally got tired and sat down on a hill to rest. The center of town was far enough away now and, as far as you could tell, no one could see you. You began looking at the sky; the sun was bright, but not as hot as before. You examined the trees, the houses in the distance and, when you looked behind your left shoulder, the city that you left behind. These things were mere images now: they held no authenticity, and you made a mental note of this.
When you looked back to the ground you noticed a caterpillar making its way across the grass. Its slow, methodical movements captivated you. You traveled with him for a few seconds but then you pulled yourself out. At that moment you took your right index finger and applied pressure to the middle of the caterpillar. When its green liquid gushed onto your finger, warmth spread over your entire body; you had never felt this way before. You then brought your right foot down on top of the caterpillar and twisted your foot back and forth. A few minutes later you got back up and back into the city.
Two nights later Mark and a friend took a flashlight and went up to the hill to see if they could find the manikin.