Transition: Chapter 32 (Sturdivant)

Walker is not at all accustomed to feeling uneasy when he’s with Nathan. But now, an undeniable sense of foreboding gnaws at him as they stroll down the dark street.

He had been feeling pretty relaxed by the time they had pulled into town. While he had still had reservations about venturing into Sturdivant – especially at night – the meditation had calmed his mind to the point where he had been, at least, comfortable with his anxieties. But then, with typical lack of explanation, Nathan had parked the car in the middle of a dark and deserted side street. His eyes had met Walker’s in the rear-view mirror as he had shut off the engine, and Walker was sure that they had sparkled significantly at him.

The girls had jumped out of the car, laughing and talking excitedly, caught up in the heady exhilaration of sharing yet another adventure with Nathan. Sometimes, Walker had thought, as he reluctantly squeezed his huge frame out of the back seat, they seemed so incredibly mindless, as if they hadn’t a care in the world. Sometimes, he wished that he could be like that – that he could turn off his worries as easily as he could turn off a light switch.

He takes a deep breath and forces his jumbled thoughts to subside. Perhaps this is all for my benefit, he thinks; perhaps Nathan parked out here in the middle of nowhere specifically to force me to come to grips with my fears, to make me meet them head on, to see how groundless they really are.

But maybe that’s being too self-centered. Maybe Nathan simply wants a bite to eat, and where he parked his car was simply where he parked his car.

Well, maybe that’s the lesson Nathan is teaching me: not to be so egocentric, not to assume that events are being staged for my benefit. After all, I’m not the center of the universe. Life goes on within me – and without me.

Walker sighs. It’s all so confusing sometimes. All too often, his thoughts lead nowhere – or, worse, they lead to other thoughts, and soon he’s thinking about his thoughts, like a dog chasing its tail in circles that grow progressively smaller and tighter. Sometimes he feels like his head will explode from the heat generated by all the useless mental activity. The meditation techniques that Nathan teaches him usually bring him back before his own mind savagely consumes itself. But occasionally, in times of severe stress – like now – even meditation doesn’t help; he’s so jittery that he’s unable to concentrate enough to initiate the mental exercises.

Just when I need them most, he thinks bitterly, they desert me.

Oh well, he thinks, taking another deep breath, there’s nothing I can do about it now. Maybe I’ll be able to sort it all out later.

And so Walker is maintaining a steady pace a few steps behind Nathan and the girls – who are laughing and giggling, practically skipping down the street – when suddenly, Nathan veers off to his left, steering the girls with him, and disappears.

Walker’s heart begins to pound. Breaking into a trot, he rounds a hidden corner into an alley that had been concealed by the darkness from even a few yards away. He half expects that, when he turns the corner, Nathan and the girls will be gone; he’ll be alone, lost in the dark. It looks like you took a wrong turn, Rod Serling will say; you’re a long way from Sturdivant, Walker. Welcome to the Twilight Zone.

But there they are, just a few steps ahead, seemingly oblivious to the fact that they’re walking down a pitch-black alley in hostile territory.

“Nathan?” Walker slows to a walk, but still hurries to catch up. “Nathan? Where are we going?” He tries to sound unconcerned, merely curious. He won’t fool Nathan, of course, but maybe he can prevent the girls from realizing how anxious he’s become.

But he’s unable to keep the rising fear from his voice, and the girls aren’t fooled. Chastity glares at him; once again, he has dared to question the unquestionable. Sunshine, bless her, comes back and grabs hold of his arm, strokes it, soothing and comforting, her deep concern showing in her eyes. “It’s okay, Walker,” she says, gently. “Don’t worry.”

“We’re going to the Federal Diner, Walker,” Nathan finally answers, serenely. His eyes sparkle, even in the dark. “This is a shortcut.”

He knows how afraid I am, Walker thinks. He brought me down this alley specifically to force me to confront my fears.

No, that’s ridiculous, another part of his mind counters. He’s just going to get a bite to eat, and this is the quickest way there. Stop thinking of everything in terms of yourself.

But he can’t shake the pervasive feeling of dread – which, in fact, becomes more and more pronounced as they dawdle down the seemingly endless alley. His pulse pounds furiously; it reverberates in his head, shakes his enormous body, echoes off the narrow walls like sonar pings.

Something bad is going to happen, Walker thinks, with grim certainty.

Something very, very bad.