A Body to die for

you. But if I had to judge, I’d say you’re acting like a fool.”
    I’m generally more comfortable with people judging me than praying for me, and I could tell by the nervous sweat on Larry’s forehead that he was, too. I said, “Are you the head Jehovah in this operation?” j Brother said, “I would hardly call the Jehovah’s Witnesses an organization. More of a following of the Lord’s teachings.” He spoke matter-of-factly, but without condescension.
    “Gary Gilmore’s brother was a Jehovah,” I shared.
    (I learned that from reading Shot in the Heart.)
    Brother ran his hand over his bowl cut and regarded me closely. His eyes never strayed lower than my collarbone—strange. He said, “May I ask who you are and what you’re doing here?”
    “You may.”
    He looked heavenward. I hoped he wasn’t praying for me. “I’ve known about this lab since yesterday, Lawrence. I was hoping your foolishness would end— that you’d come to me to explain yourself. But now you’re bringing strangers onto our private property. I can’t look the other way now.” Brother regarded me and Alex. We weren’t looking our best. He said, “And the rats. Just stupid, Lawrence. If your rats got loose, they’d gnaw through every bag in the warehouse. They’d breed. I love all the Lord’s creatures, but those rats have got to go.” Brother looked at us. “So will you people. For all I know, you’re the ones who led Lawrence down the wrong path.”
    “Molly here can take full responsibility for his fall,” I said. “We’re here for my own selfish purposes.”
    “Such as?” Brother asked.
    “Free coffee beans.”
    Larry, meanwhile, was hiding under his makeshift lab table. I wondered if he had any formula nearby that would turn him invisible. I took another look at Brother Samuel. What was it about this thirtyish guy with flat hair and geeky shoes that could terrify Larry? In a fight, Larry could succotash him like a squash. Molly stood in front of the table, blocking Larry as much as she could. I wasn’t sure how much love it took for her to protect her boyfriend from a man in leisure slacks, but it was probably a lot. Alex stepped toward me and whispered in my ear, “He’s packing.”
    I looked at Brother Samuel’s fly. “I know you’re not happy to see me,” I said. “So that must be a gun.”
    He patted his pants and said, “The alarm went off at headquarters, and I had to be ready for action. I’m prepared to fight to protect our supplies. Without the contents of this warehouse, future generations of humanity couldn’t survive after the apocalypse.”
    “I suppose they wouldn’t send you alone on such an important mission,” Alex asked.
    “Reinforcements are on the way.” In that blue and white van, no doubt. “And if you even think about stealing any of our coffee, forgive me Lord, but I’ll defend our honor. If I don’t get you, the dog will.” Alex tapped me on the shoulder and whispered, “I think we should leave.”
    Molly heard him and begged with her eyes for us to stay. I considered it, but decided they were on their own. Under the circumstances, I figured it was best for me to hang on to Larry’s notebook. From the strange grin on Brother Samuel’s face, I’d bet that Larry’s ad hoc lab wouldn’t last through the hour. I sent Alex a telepathic message. He rubbed his left eye—code that he’d received it loud and clear. I turned to Molly and said, “Aloha.”
    We split like canned peas. At a run, Alex and I vaulted the mountains of burlap coffee bean bags and climbed. A few broken nails later, we’d clawed and scraped our way to the top of the pile. From that high up, I could see that Brother Samuel had male-pattern baldness. Alex said, “Let’s fly,” and he ran on top the bags and boxes toward the west wall of the warehouse. I liked the sound of the beans and corn crackling under my feet as I ran. The piles were uneven, and I had to make running jumps a few times to keep up with Alex. I was getting more exercise in one day than I had in most of my adult life. I minded.
    A shot rang out and ricocheted around the metal walls of the warehouse. I heard Molly scream. Shooting the rats? I wondered. What a waste of bullets. Alex and I were just at the end of the warehouse. He deftly maneuvered down the burlap bags. I followed and fell about eight feet to the floor. My knee was bleeding pretty badly as we sprinted for the hole in the wall we’d crawled in through.