Revealing Revelations Page 6

  I park in the back. I take a deep breath and let it out. I get out of the car and walk around to the front. Even though the Coo Coo’s Nest was a weekend party spot, it was open through the week as well. I walk around the brick wall and through the green front door.

  Looking around inside, now that the place is less crowded than usual, I can actually see the brown and maroon tiles of the floor. I can almost see a glimmer of my reflection in the well-polished tiles. I see how sad I looked being here on these terms, but really I didn’t know which was worse, the fact that I was potentially willing to turn myself over for treasonous acts against my country or that I was looking for a person that I never met before that seems to know my secrets very well. It might be a joke Shane came up with. No, I refuse to entertain the idea any further. Going to jail is one thing no man plays with, even Shane. I stand in the entrance and scan the bar. I see the usual bartender, a few regulars and two women dancing alone. I walk slowly to the long side of the bar.

  “Tommy Boy!” Shouts a welcoming Dan from the opposite end of the room. Dan was the bartender of the place. He wore a flannel shirt and jeans, it was his usual apparel in the colder months, the warmer months too for that matter. I think he is the only Haitian I’ve ever seen wear flannel.

  I respond with a nod and sit on the bar stool at the very end and wait. I look around again from the manager’s office to my left to the rest of the bar to my right. I look at my cell phone once more trying to see how much time has passed, but to my surprise the clock only reads 10:22 p.m. I put my cell phone away and see a shadow approach from my rear before I turn around and feel a heavy palm rest on my right shoulder. He uses my shoulder to ease his way onto the bar stool. It was him, the mysterious man I saw outside my motor pool earlier.

  “Bartender!” shouts a familiar voice out of nowhere. It’s him. No doubt about that, the accent was the same that I heard before on the phone. It’s definitely the guy. He lifts the same hand from my shoulder and beckons for the bartender.

  I couldn’t believe it. This guy has been watching me for months this whole time, and I thought nothing of him.

  “What’ll it be for ya tonight, man?” Dan asked him.

  “Uhh…I’ll have a Coke,” the mysterious John Todd says.

  “Okay, a Coke and what else, rum?” Dan asked.

  “No, not at all. Just a Coke will be fine,” Todd says, clarifying his non-alcoholic choice of beverage.

  Dan looks at him then at me confused as to why this guy comes into a bar and asks for soda and non-alcoholic beverage. He frowns. “Fine, one Coke coming up, man.”

  Getting a better look, I began to analyze him. His Caucasian face was somewhat wrinkled suggesting that he’s in his late forties maybe and been through his share of stress. Short half-spiky half-gelled back grayish white hair. Kind of looks like Anthony Hopkins. His glass-like grayish eyes stare straight ahead at the mirror along the wall behind the row of liquor bottles. I remain silent waiting to see what comes out next. But he remains there, just silent and poise, only increasing my curiosity.

  “Quiet aren’t we?” he asks still waiting for his Coke. The nerve of this guy, it’s almost like he’s toying with me and I’m finding it hard at this point to keep my cool, but I manage. “I was expecting that this would be the point where you ask an array of questions.” Todd begins to take a deep breath and let it out slowly making charismatic motions and hand gestures. “How long have I been watching you, how do I know what the T.O.C is, who am I?” he asks back to back questions rhetorically. And I return with a rhetorical question.

  “I thought you said you were John Todd?”

  He turns his head then squints his eyes to study me. That question must have caught his attention.

  Dan puts his drink in front of him and walks away.

  “Okay, I’ll play your game,” I tell Todd. “The only question that really matters is…” I pause.

  “Why are we here?” Todd asks, feeling privileged taking the words out of my mouth. He smiles and looks at his Coke.

  “Yeah,” I answered him in return.

  “Precisely,” he says taking a sip of Coke. “Ahh! Refreshing!” he says.

  “So how about an answer then?” I asked him.

  He clears his throat and points a finger towards the T.O.C door. “Is it safe to say that here in that very room you gather information and share knowledge against the very government you are sworn to protect?”

  I used to refuse to look at it that way before, but it was true no matter how phrased it. Nevertheless, this is the moment of truth if he’s recording this conversation or wearing a wire it’ll come out now. So, I might as well just get it over with. “Yeah, you could say that,” I answered. I anticipate a S.W.A.T. team to break through the doors and shatter the glass, propelling through the window. I can almost feel my wrist hurting as though the cold cuffs were hurting already, my heart beats at a high rate waiting for the worst.

  “Well, I wish to share as well, in my own way of course.”

  I look at this guy from top to bottom. He obviously knows every detail needed to put me away so it’s clear he’s not the authorities. His demeanor, though, it almost makes me feel at ease. Almost.

  “Hmph! I didn’t see this coming. So what are you, some type of radical?” I ask Todd.

  He takes another sip of the coke. “I’m, uh, more of an extremist I guess you could say,” Todd says removing his jacket and sets it on the seat beside him. His all black attire shows a white strip at the top of his button up shirt underneath his collar. I couldn’t believe my eyes, he was a priest.

  I point towards his neck and say, “Wow. That would explain the straight Coke. Hey, bartender!” I yelled out, but wasn’t actually trying to actually get Dan’s attention. Just making a joke of the matter and laughing it off. “I’m definitely gonna need a drink for this one, ha. I’m a Christian so excuse me if I don’t do the whole Hail Mary thing,” I say facetiously. “Are you serious, a priest?”

  He looks at me with a look that only a preacher man can give you that makes you humble your attitude.

  “Okay, I guess you are serious. I apologize, it’s just something I didn’t expect,” I said. “Ahem… so, how can I help you?”

  “Actually… I came to help you, Kevin Thomas,” he says. He used my first and last name obviously to make sure he had my attention which he did. “I’ve seen your work, it’s very accurate and detailed, if I do say so myself. But think of a fly, if you will. Small in this big world yet has seen so much, pretty much all of it, yes? It’s one hundred percent free, has no hive it has to return to like bees, nor any queen, it obeys like ants, no,” he says taking another sip of soda. I’m starting to think he’ll never finish that Coke. “But what it doesn’t notice...” he says, pausing to turn his body completely my direction with his right elbow on the bar counter supporting his weight. “Is the direction he was going would lead him right into the spider’s web.” It was not hard at all to grasp the metaphor. But what was he really trying to come out and say?

  “No more beating around the issue, what’s your point?”

  “Well, I planned to ease you into it but if the bottom line is what you want then alright.” He sighs. “The world has been corrupted by secret conspirators since nearly the dawn of man. And mankind as we know it is literally going to hell in a cradle, calmly nestled away with a blanket and pacifier,” he says with such speed and no effort. Silence falls over the room. We both look around and notice the two women that were dancing before were across the room starring, Dan, stacking bottles at the other end, and the three regulars, must have overheard John’s last statement seeing as how they all now have that look on their face like their jaws almost want to drop. He raises his hands high to the ceiling, “Enter by the narrow gates, children, for the Kingdom of God is at hand!” His ‘save your soul’ theatrics seemed to have worked, seeing as how everyone has now returned to their previous conversations.

  “Good job, Father Todd.” He turns back a
round, but I get up to leave.

  “Thomas, wait.” He tries to half whisper half yell. “Even here even now, there are examples around us here,” he says frantically. He points at the liquor bottles behind the bar lined up against the mirror “There the bottle with shapes of naked women called Conjure, Cîroc, Nuevo. Just think, what do these names mean and where do they come from? These things don’t strike you as odd?”

  I don’t want to hear any more. But the fact remains he knew about the T.O.C and he could have easily given us up. So I chose to entertain the priest a bit longer.

  “So, let’s say that whatever you’re saying is true. What part do I have in it?” I ask him.

  “Simple, the same thing you are doing now, researching and reporting just in another manner. Have you ever asked yourself why things happen the way they do on this base or in the Middle East for that matter?” he asked me.

  “Everything happens for a reason,” I said.

  He laughs. “Dear boy, that is something we both know. But why is that? And who makes these choices, is not that the whole reason why you do what you do here?” he asks me, challenging me to think more into things. He starts to become flustered. “I think you even came to this question time after time in your propagandic discoveries.” He leans forward putting all his weight on folded arms on top of the counter top. “And each time you think about this question you come to a dead end, oil is no more than a small piece of the puzzle, my friend. They’re even conspirators around even you, soldier, this you should think about,” he said, sipping the last of his Coke and walking out of the bar.

  “All this for nothing,” I told myself. I couldn’t believe I got worked up over nonsense, yet the ride back to the barracks was a blur. Only thoughts that kept going through my mind was how did he know so much about me working for the Tower of Commands. And what did a man of the cloth have to do with me? My curiosity was my judgment’s spokesperson lashing back out for the choices I made.

  I lay in my bed unable to sleep, starting to wonder if I should’ve looked more into it. I close my eyes trying to catch a little snooze before I had to wake up. It doesn’t work. I open my eyes and look at a small spider in a web in the crevice wall and ceiling connect. “Spider and its web.” I jumped up and called Shane, but he doesn’t answer. So I just wait patiently until I fall asleep or until it was time to go to P.T.

  The morning was the usual six-thirty P.T. session. Five mile ability group run, I felt as though my mind was elsewhere. I couldn’t connect and play soldier today, my drive was gone and I wasn’t the only one to notice.

  “You okay, Battle?” a concerned Benal asks walking to meet me on the grassy P.T. field.

  “I’m just tired of everything,” I told him.

  “I know, bro. We all been through a lot. We all go through this phase sometime or another, but honestly, we all never thought you would have this problem. We always saw you as the poster-boy model soldier. So if anyone will be alright it’s you, bro. We’ve been through basic and mechanic school together, so trust me, I know you’re strong, you’re just bored that’s all. Besides, if you need anything I got you, Battle. Even if you just need to get things off your chest. But hey, I’m headed to the dfac before they get packed, I’ll see you at work later, bro,” Benal said jogging over to his car. He was short and stubby so thinking about him rushing to the mess hall would almost seem comical, but there are other things on my mind. He was right, though. Since the first day I stepped in the Army I met him and we’ve been together ever since. He understood me and I could trust him, but some secrets aren’t mine to share.

  I walk to the parking lot pressing the button on my keypad unlocking my car doors.

  “Thomas!” a voice calls to me.

  I turn around and look at an exhausted Shane standing before me. Sweat drenches the top half of his gray shirt. He slumps over with his hands on his knees gasping for air. “You… you… called me this morning. I was tryna see what’s up.” He leans against my car trying to support his body.

  “Someone contacted me last night by the name of John Todd knowing more than we would like him to know,” I said.

  He looked at me, wheezed once more and dropped his head. “What is he C.I.D?” he asked.

  “Nah, if he was you would be the first to know I was on my way to Ft. Leavenworth,” I said.

  “You’re right. You’d be part of the chain-gang band, huh?” he said. “So, who is he? What’s this guy want anyway, money?”

  “Naw, that’s the thing. He says that what we’re doing is basically a small portion of a big picture, and get this, he’s a priest.”

  Shane looks at me in a way he never looked at me before. His round face was fully red from fatigue and loss of oxygen.

  “He’s not a threat, Shane. I know it sounds weird, but he isn’t,” I explained.

  “I believe you, but I want to talk to this guy. He obviously wants to help us in some way. Wait here,” Shane said. He runs over to his white SUV a few cars away, opens the door, reaches in the center console and runs back over with phone in hand. “Give me his phone number,” Shane said.

  “He called me private,” I told him.

  He leans up against my car again and tosses his head back. “Okay,” he says bringing his head back to its proper level.

  “Is there a problem, Sergeant Shanahan?” an overly curious Sergeant Pummel asks. It’s as if he just appeared out of nowhere. But, that was his signature move.

  “No, Sergeant. Just have to see my soldier make it to Darnall hospital,” Shane said. He was always good at coming up with excuses to get off work and meaningless details. He stands there so cynical with his hands behind his back, displaying his superior rank in the Army as usual. He looks Shane dead in the eye as if he was about to share judgment. But, Shane keeps his usual “so-what” composure.

  Sergeant Pummel keeps his stance and shifts his eyes my direction, then back to Shane. “That’s the type of motivation more Non-Commissioned Officers need around here, Sergeant. Get him squared away,” Pummel says.

  “Roger that, Sergeant,” Shane said.

  “As for you, Thomas, I hope you really been thinking about our little conversation from the other day,” he said raising his head, but dropping his eyes down on me. I wasn’t in the mood for his ‘all about nothing’ babble.

  “Sure, Sergeant,” I replied with an obvious angry tone in my voice.

  He just stands there and says, “Audacity, always audacity.” Sergeant Pummel walks off and we quickly walk to the white Nitro and get in.

  Shane puts his key into the ignition and starts the engine.

  Vrrrrmmm!

  Shane turns on the A/C, he must still be hot and out of breath. I look around and everything inside is black leather, from the dashboard to the seat cushions. It still has that fresh new-car smell.

  “I freakin’ hate that guy, how does he get out of all the training exercises and deployments?” I ask Shane.

  His eyebrows jump. “Rumor has it he’s a Freemason,” Shane said.

  “A secret society guy, huh?” I asked.

  “Something like that, I guess,” he answered.

  I look at the traffic we were passing at an accelerated speed. Deep down the fact that Sergeant Pummel was a Freemason made me think about what the priest said. “They’re even conspirators around even you, soldier,” I say under my breath. “But, I’m not worried about that, I’m more concerned about this…priest.”

  He looks at me, not just any look. I can tell he’s really worried. I’ve only seen Shane look this way when we had to clear buildings from potential terrorists. I just can’t understand why. He seemed to be understanding about the situation when I told him earlier maybe it’s an NCO thing and pay it no mind. I see we were headed back out East gate that could only mean another trip to the Coo Coo’s Nest. The rest of the ride was silent between us, I’m sure he was thinking the same thoughts I had in mind after I had got the anonymous call from John Todd last night.

  We ge
t there and the green door in the front of the building is locked. Shane digs in his pocket and pulls out a small bracelet of keys and unlocks the door. I refrain from making any barkeep, janitorial or key master jokes at the time and simply choose to save them in my arsenal for later. We close doors behind us and walk down the black and marooned tiled floors into the T.O.C.

  I hit the light switch and Shane sits in front of a laptop at the big metal table in the center of the room. I stand beside him waiting to see what he types into the computer. He pulls up Google and types in John Todd. I would think a person finder would’ve worked better, but what came up was articles and videos on Youtube. We read article after article about the guy, and how he formerly in the Navy. Also there were articles about John Todd being a member of secret society that ruled the nations behind the scenes and were devil worshippers. The Illuminati. We come across videos and documented speeches showing how he turned and tried exposing some group called Illuminati. The more we looked into this John Todd, the more we found out this well structured and highly secretive political and cultic organization conspirators called Illuminati. But I tell Shane that even though the footage was from the seventies, the guy in the video is not the same guy that I met last night.

  Click clack! My heart drops from the unexpected sound of visitors. We both look at one another for a split second then I rush to grab the doorknob in attempts to prevent the unwelcomed entry while he closes the laptop and turn off the lights.

  “Go, go, go!” Shane tries to whisper rapidly, but before I can reach the door it opens with a full swing. I close my eyes and try to exhale, but I find it hard to breathe. We were caught red-handed. There was enough information in this room to put both of us and Bazz away for good. I finally exhale and still find it hard to face the repercussions that stands before me.