IX

Glenn entered the "Singles" Sunday school room fifteen minutes early, strategically taking the seat adjacent to the group leader at the front of the semi-circle. He had hoped for a full crowd and was pleased when the fold-out chairs had to be taken from the closet to accommodate the overflow. All the key people were there and Glenn could barely listen to the lesson in anticipation of his announcement to the class. His heart raced as the time for prayer requests finally came. One after another the group shared its concerns, the leader jotting things in his notepad like a doctor examining a patient in an advanced stage of illness. Tim Hendrick's aunt had passed. Emma Phelps was trying to find a new job. Derrick Wilkerson was trying to decide what to do after obtaining his associate's degree. There were several ailing grandparents. Finally, it was Glenn's turn to speak. Unbeknownst to Glenn, word had spread that he had lost his job at Shaw, thanks to the church "prayer chain" so the others had been awaiting Glenn's turn almost as anxiously as he had.

"As some of you may or may not know, I turned in my letter of resignation this past week at Shaw Recliners. I have been feelin' the Lord call me in a different direction for some time now and finally decided that the time was right to make a move. So, about two months ago I just asked the Lord to show me the way. I didn't know what he had in store for me, but I told him that I'd follow. That's when the Lord opened a door for me that I never thought possible. He provided me with a job in Atlanta, Georgia. At first I was afraid, but then I asked the Lord to give me strength and, of course, He was faithful. So, I'll be headin' out to Atlanta tomorrow. I'm gonna miss everyone and I'll keep in touch. I'm sure I'll see all of you when I blow back into town for the holidays and what have you." Glenn had orchestrated the situation perfectly. He could see the tears forming in Julie Carpenter's eyes as he spoke. He could feel the jealousy growing in Tom Chambers’ heart with each word. "I'm sorry for the short notice, but this whole thing's kinda been a whirlwind. An opportunity like this may just come around once in a lifetime, so I just figured it was time to roll the dice. It's like Randy always says: 'God plus one is a majority', so I know I don't go alone. This is just another case of Romans 8:28 takin' place. So, y’all remember to pray for me. I'm sure the first few weeks will be rough- adjusting to the big city and all." Glenn could not repress his smile.

"Where is it you're going to work, Glenn?" asked Randy with veiled suspicion.

Glad Randy had asked, Glenn coolly replied "Coca-Cola. I'm in their executive training program. I train for two years, learn the ropes, then they shoot me on up the ladder." Randy scribbled in his note pad and the group bowed their heads in collective prayer. Glenn basked in the glory as many petitions were made for his well-being in the big city.

X

The Greyhound terminal was an outpost on the edge of the small town. Glenn waited, along with several blacks, for the bus to arrive. He sat his small suitcase by a deserted fireant hill and stepped on the dried-up mound. A few solitary ants staggered from the ruins, sluggish and unsynchronized, as if to defend their abandoned home. Why had these ants been left behind? Were they just too old to make the journey to a new ant hill? Had all of the others been killed in some battle? Glenn felt like one of the ants as he stared down the road, summoning the bus with his eyes. Waiting was the worst part. Once he got on the bus he would be O.K. He made up a tune to hum. The blacks were so carefree as they waited. He felt as if they could feel his unease. The air had that heavy, damp, tangible feel that all summer mornings in Mississippi have. The texture of the air accompanied by the monotonous hum of the crickets coming from every direction but no place in particular, generated in Glenn a sort of Pavlovian response, causing beads of sweat to break out on his forehead. Every day that started like this in the past had been miserably hot. This one would too. One of the ants slowly climbed up the side of his saddle oxford. He crushed it with his other foot and watched two little black boys as they threw rocks at a nearby stop sign. The bus was already two minutes late. Maybe it had had some tragic wreck or been hit by a train. Maybe he would have to postpone his journey for another day or week. His parents sure would be excited to see him.

He rehearsed answers for reporters in his head. "Yeah, something told me not to take that bus and sure enough..." Maybe the bus would crash on the way to Atlanta. He saw it careening off a backwoods bridge and into a river. He imagined what he would do under the water as the other passengers screamed and thrashed. Blacks couldn't swim. He emerged from the murky water with one little black boy under each arm. When asked who had saved them the boys replied in unison: "I think it was an angel." When the reporters and camera crews finally sought him out, Glenn humbly replied: "I just asked the Lord to give me strength- and He did." The town had gathered in an all-night vigil, fearing the worst. With Glenn's words on CNN they had broken into collective cheers of joy. Julie Carpenter's eyes again filled with tears. Randy was proud. Harper and Wainwright clapped with the others.

The bus hissed as it pulled into the desolate stop and waited impatiently, rattling with latent energy. The two little boys scrambled up the steps as soon as the double doors opened. A gimp-legged porter carelessly tossed the passengers' bags into a hold under the bus. Glenn held his suitcase close by his side as he stepped onto the vehicle. He surveyed the other passengers, looking for a hospitable seat. There was an old, gruff looking white man about half way back. A solitary college-aged kid looked out the window at the barren Mississippi landscape, glad to be from somewhere else. All the others on the bus were black. Glenn took his chance with the college kid. "Is this seat taken?"

"Looks like it is now," said the young man, still looking out the window.

"Thanks." Glenn fumbled with the overhead compartment. The others were all seated by now and he could feel the angry glare of the driver. The blacks had already adapted to their new environment. Glenn sat down, placing the suitcase at his feet. Without giving him time to contemplate his actions, the bus lurched forward. In unison, the little black boys let out a gleeful yell. Glenn's throat tightened. He could feel a ringing in his ears. The voices around him faded into background noise. His palms began to sweat profusely. He tried to make small talk with his fellow rider to calm himself.

"So, where ya from?"

"Non-ya." The young man examined the passing countryside.

"Really? That in Mississippi?"

"Beeswax."

"What?" Glenn tried to remember where he knew the young man from before understanding that his conversation was not welcome. He could feel the veins in his neck pulse. He had to yawn to get enough oxygen. The bus began to close in on him. He focused the air vent onto his nose to get enough air. The voices seemed to circle his head and come from no particular direction like the humming of the crickets. His eyes lost focus as his heart tried in vain to pump blood. He could feel a numbness in his thighs that slowly made its way down to his feet. He was trapped inside of a four foot universe. Ideas raced through his head. How could he get the driver to stop the bus? If he pretended that he was having a heart attack the driver would surely pull over. He was having a heart attack- or suffocating. The driver could take him straight to the hospital. At least he would be off the bus. But they would want blood at the hospital. Maybe he could make a run for it as soon as the driver opened the doors. But what would he tell them at church? What would Julie Carpenter think? He would have to confess to his parents. They couldn't take anymore heartbreak. Glenn's whole body pulsed as he reached into his pocket. He couldn't take the pills. What if the bus went into a swamp? He wouldn't be able to swim. Who would save the little boys? His breaths didn't seem to go past the bottom of his throat. He breathed in to make sure that his chest would expand, but could not feel the air go into his lungs. Half a pill was a good compromise. He broke one of the pills in two with his moist palms and placed it onto his tongue. Just knowing that the pill would take effect soon calmed him some. He breathed in deeply through his nose. Some of the air reached his lungs this time.

Calmer now, Glenn again addressed the college kid. "You in college?"

"Nope. I go to Southern."

"That's a good school. What's your major?"

"Undecided."

"Oh, so you're just startin' out. Well, what do you wanna be?"

"An Astronaut."

"No kiddin'? That's a mighty big dream." The young man continued to stare out the window. Talking calmed Glenn's nerves and he could feel the pill beginning to take effect. "But I say go for it- whatever your dreams are. Shoot for the moon."

"I'll have to remember that one."

"Yeah, I'm chasin' a dream or two myself, you might say. Startin' a new career." Glenn waited for his companion to ask the obvious question, but was greeted with more silence. "Yeah, I'm headin' for Atlanta. Atlanta, G-A. Takin' a step up the old executive ladder."

"What? And leave all this?" The young man continued to look out the window.

"Yeah, it’s gonna be hard, but it was time to move on. Sometimes you just gotta do what you gotta do."

"That's another good one."

Confident in his new-found status, Glenn continued. "Don't you worry. You'll find the right major. And when you do, you'll know it. One day you'll look back and it'll all be worth it. You never know, you might even be the first man on Mars." Speaking as the idea popped into his head, Glenn turned to his fellow traveler with an awkward smile. The bus motored smoothly down the highway. Glenn knew that he could make it. "Yeah, it'll all be worth it. So, where ya headed?"

"Huntsville. I'm gonna be a Space Camp councilor."

"No kiddin'? Now, that sounds like a fun summer job. I thought I was doin' good if I had a few lawns to mow. How'd you land that one?"

"Like you said, I just believed in myself. And gave one hundred and ten percent. Things just kinda fell into place." Glenn did not detect the collegian's flippant reply.

"Tell me about it! That is great. That's just like me with this job I got offered. I mean, I just kept pluggin' away at my old job and one day it hit me- they don't really appreciate me here. I gotta go live my own dream instead of someone else's-and here I am- goin' to Atlanta." Glenn was beside himself. He felt like such a wise mentor but his exuberance was checked by the medication. He could feel himself having to struggle to enunciate each word. "That space camp is gonna look good on your resume too. You gotta keep a good resume. Never underestimate that. So, is that camp all summer?"

"Pretty much. At the end, the best counselor gets to go up on the shuttle. That's what I'm shootin' for," said the young man with a straight face.

"No kiddin'. I didn't know they let you do that. I thought that you had to go through a lot of training. "

"Well, you did back in the old days with Apollo 13 and stuff like that. Nowadays they let just about anyone ride- school teachers, car salesmen, cops- you name it. Just have to get on the waiting list."

"No kiddin'. I never knew it was that easy. What's your name? Maybe I'll see you on CNN one day."

"Griffin."

"Nice to meet you, Griff. I'm Glenn. You from around here?" Glenn's eyelids weighed a pound each.

"Fortunately, no. Michigan."

"Wow. You came a long way just for school. USM is good, though. Good lookin' women too." Glenn smiled as he pulled down the foot rest with his feet, now both suspended in invisible blocks of concrete. His mind thought of other questions for his young companion, but his body vetoed them. "I think I'm gonna catch me a little catnap if you don't mind." Glenn's heart beat lethargically under the influence of the tranquilizer. His whole being felt heavy and slow, a pace behind the rest of the universe. He always felt as if there was a possibility that he would not awaken when he took the medicine and hated the loss of control of his body, but saw it as the lesser of two evils. He tried to remain vigilant for several minutes before being lulled to sleep by the churning of the bus' wheels.

Glenn nervously tried to squeeze his feet into his shoes, but they seemed to be at least two sizes too small. He could hear the roar of the crowd as he frantically tried to get his heel into the shoe. He was finally getting his chance to play in the big game for Magnolia. No one seemed to notice that he had been out of high school for more than a decade. Practice had gone great. He had secured a starting tailback position. Looking down at his feet, he noticed that his mom had bought ballet slippers instead of cleats. Frantic, he slid them over the balls of his feet and ran out of the locker room towards the field. He wound up in the car of Jesse Singleton. They drove in silence, looking for a place to buy cleats perhaps. Jesse sat across from him in geometry and had always been cordial but was never a close companion. It seemed odd to Glenn that Jesse would be the one to take him to buy cleats. Then it occurred to him- Jesse and he were two of the last people left on planet Earth. They had banded together out of a common insecurity. Somehow, Glenn knew that only vague acquaintances remained. He took solace in the fact that he was with Jesse. At least he knew Jesse. He was not totally alone. Besides, they would probably become the best of friends. It was night time and the two entered a strange house. There was a party inside. Glenn danced with a girl that looked vaguely familiar, but he could not quite place her. She smiled and whispered something in his ear. He suddenly realized that he was still wearing the slippers and that he was clothed in only his underwear. The other partiers had not yet caught on and Glenn tried to remain calm. He grabbed a pillow and placed it over his crotch. Some of the faces in the crowd came into focus. His elementary school coach, a tough looking dike named Ms. Reeves eyed him from a corner of the room. "Did I hear you found a dollar in your pocket?" The woman gave a knowing smile as she spoke the words. Glenn did not fully understand the hidden code, but knew that she must have noticed that he was in his underwear. Then, the unthinkable happened. Or did it? Somehow he remembered or had a memory of remembering that he had had sex with the masculine, rotund woman. He could not imagine what circumstances would have caused him to commit such a vile act, but was almost positive that it had happened. Then he remembered the football game. He searched in vain for a familiar face- someone to take him back to the game. He could feel his universe spinning around him like a giant vortex. Then he found himself back in the halls of Gentry middle school. It was time for class to start and he could not remember where his locker was or his locker combination. The world seemed to be crashing in around him. The school morphed into the local junior college. It was mid semester and he still had not found his Spanish class. Somehow he had forgotten about it until now. To his dismay, he walked right into a midterm. He answered a portion of the test on simple arithmetic, but could feel his mind cramping as he turned to the second page. He was stricken with an incapacitating panic. He was unable to focus. It was almost time to hand the test in and he had not answered any of it.

Glenn was jarred awake by the stopping of the bus. He looked out the window, still groggy, trying to get his bearings. A sign saying "Welcome to York- too Lovely to Litter" greeted him. An old black woman got off the bus and two young black men boarded. Glenn had never heard of the town before but was too embarrassed to ask his traveling companion which state they were in.

"Whoa, I guess I dosed off for a little longer than I expected, huh?" Glenn sheepishly smiled.

"Guess so." Griffin continued to look out the window.

"We passed any places to eat? I'm gettin' kinda hungry." Glenn tried to covertly discover their whereabouts.

"No, but you missed it. The stewardess served finger sandwiches and punch. Guess they consider that supper."

Unsure of how to respond, Glenn just smiled. From what he could see of the small town, it was even more desolate than Tatum. A train track was right by the bus stop. Poor blacks milled about aimlessly like the ants from the deserted ant bed. An old man in a tattered shirt, oily pants and painters cap staggered along outside the window. He stopped at Glenn's window and peered in, his gaze unfixed. Glenn wondered to himself how the man had gotten in such a condition. Didn't he have any family?

The two little boys exited the bus along with their mother. Glenn would not have to rescue them after all. For a split second, a voice inside of his head whispered: "You can leave now. You need to get off this bus." Glenn blocked out the voice, but could feel the anxiety rising back up from his stomach. He yawned to get more air. The bus surged forward as quickly as it had stopped. A faint ringing sound that gradually grew louder resonated in Glenn's ears, then faded again. Glenn felt weak. He did not want to take the other half of the pill. He felt as if everyone on the bus was privy to his inner turmoil. As the bus pulled back onto the highway, a wave of anxiety consumed him. He looked straight ahead at the back of the seat in front of him, as if acknowledging the rest of the world would put him over the edge. After less than a mile he knew that he needed the other half of the pill and reached into his pocket, careful not to draw attention from Griffin. He placed the second half of the pill on his tongue and swallowed. Counting every heartbeat, he closed his eyes tightly and waited for the pill to kick in. He was certain that Griffin would notice the pulsing of the arteries in his neck. Glenn's panic heightened as the bus moved out of the small town and into the even more sparsely populated Alabama countryside. His mind raced with doomsday scenarios. "How far was the nearest hospital? What kind of quacks would work in a hospital in the middle of nowhere?" He had seen a Sixty Minutes piece where a poor, old black guy got his hand caught in a combine and the local hospital only had aspirin to offer him. He looked around the bus, trying to find someone that looked as if they could help him if he were to stop breathing. None of his fellow passengers looked as if they were up to the task. Glenn's foot rocked involuntarily. He made eye contact with the lady across the aisle and forced a smile on his face. He reminded himself that the pill would soon take effect and focused on this thought for several miles until it became a reality. Glenn's universe expanded again and the featureless countryside became less threatening. His inward terror was replaced by a torpid optimism.

"Check it out." Griffin suddenly became animated. Glenn read the sign: 'Prison Area: Do Not Pick up Hitchhikers.' The prison came into view only a few hundred yards after the sign. The dilapidated, two story building did not resemble the mental picture that Glenn had drawn in his head. There was a tall fence with razor wire just as he had imagined, though. Dozens of inmates strolled around the prison yard, most of them smoking cigarettes, making idle conversation. The passengers of the bus gawked at them like apes in a zoo. One inmate stood right against the fence, within a stone's throw of the bus. Poised for action, in the split second that the bus was passing he reached his left hand into his orange jumpsuit. Glenn watched in horror as the man produced a massive, erect penis and began to pound it with a vengeance, his right hand shaking the fence above his head. The savage's face contorted in a primal scream as his eyes followed the passing bus. Time slowed as the exhibition was blazed into the minds of each of the passengers. The inmate held each of them mentally captive until his image was obscured by a cluster of small cedar trees.