Transition: Chapter 35 (Sturdivant)

We can walk right around them, Walker thinks, as he pulls up beside Nathan and the girls. We have them outnumbered, and the two little guys don’t look real eager to make trouble, anyway. If we just walk around them, we’ll be past them before they can decide what they want to do. He begins to drift over toward the side of the alley, hoping that Nathan and the girls will see what he’s doing and follow his lead.

But no, Nathan walks right up to where the short, fat guy is standing, right in the middle of the alley. He just walks right up to him, no indecision, no hesitation. He stops a few feet from the fat guy, smiles pleasantly, and says, “Good evening.”

But Walker can see that the fat guy’s not listening to Nathan, his eyes have locked in on Sunshine, who offers him a weak smile, before she turns her eyes nervously to the ground.

“Why are you looking away from me, bitch?” the fat guy asks, hoarsely. “You ain’t scared of me, are you?”

Sunshine looks up and meets his eyes, but only for a second, then she shudders and quickly looks down again.

“Who are you guys?” This from one of the fat guy’s skinny followers, they’re standing on either side of the fat guy, like bookends. “I mean, you’re The Crazies who took over the Phillips place, aren’t you?”

Nathan smiles his placid smile. “I am Nathan,” he says. “This...” – he inclines his head to the right – “...is Sunshine, and this...” – he tilts his head the other way – “...is Chastity.” He speaks with calm self-assurance, giving no indication that anything out of the ordinary is going on. “And Walker...” – Nathan glances over to Walker’s side of the alley – “...Walker stands over there.”

How can he be so blasé about this? Walker wonders. Doesn’t he realize that we’re in trouble? “We come in peace,” he says. But he’s trying way too hard, his voice is all wrong. It sounds lame, even to him, as soon as he says it.

“Chastity, huh?” The fat guy licks his raw lips. “I like that, that’s good. From what I hear about what goes on out at the Phillips place, that’s a real laugh. Chastity.” The name falls from his lips like a foul disease. Chastity keeps her eyes to the ground, and clings to Nathan even tighter.

“Do you fuck for this little bald guy?” the fat guy inquires, all innocence. “How about for the fat boy over there? Or is he too big for you?”

“Hey!” The skinny guy who had spoken earlier has been studying Walker with a puzzled expression on his face. “Hey, Billy,” he says, excited, “I know this guy. I know him.”

“Oh, really?” Billy sounds bored. “Stevie? You gonna tell us who he is, or do we have to guess?”

“He’s that football player, that guy from Penn State, what’s his name, Kowalski or something.” Stevie pauses; he seems to be expecting some kind of sign of validation from Walker, but Walker’s not sure he wants to give him any. “You’re that Kowalski guy from Penn State, aren’t you?” he asks Walker, hopefully. “The lineman? The guy who quit?”

Walker sighs. “Kowalski is the name I used to use,” he admits. He feels more than a little ambivalent about the direction of the conversation. Normally, he shies away from speaking of his past. But, at this point, he’s welcoming anything that might provide a diversion.

“It’s him, Billy, I told you it was him!” Stevie said. “He was the best fuckin’ defensive lineman in the country. ‘Killer Kowalski,’ they used to call him. He was a fuckin’ terror, I never seen anything like him. Then all of a sudden, he just up and quits, just like that, joins some kinda religious cult or something, says he’s not gonna... Holy shit,” Stevie adds, as the import of what he’s saying finally catches up to him. “Holy shit. You joined up with The Crazies. You’re out at the Phillips place. Holy shit. I don’t believe it. I don’t fuckin’ believe it.”

“Why did the bald guy say your name was Walker?” the other skinny one asks suspiciously in a high, squeaky voice. “What are you guys trying to pull?”

“Walker is my spiritual name,” Walker explains, more than a little aware of how strange that must sound to this particular audience, but doggedly determined to speak the simple truth. “Nathan gives us new names when our spirits are awakened.”

“That a fact?” Billy seems to be only mildly curious about the unexpected identification, but most of his attention, Walker can’t help but notice, remains focused firmly on Sunshine. “Why’d you quit playing football, big boy?” Billy asks, his eyes never turning from Sunshine.

“I chose not to inflict any more pain,” Walker answers. He can tell that Billy isn’t much interested, but he clings to the faint hope that perhaps he can distract Billy, stall him, play for time. “I decided that I wasn’t put on this planet to hurt some people for the entertainment of others.”

“Wow,” Stevie says. He still seems to be shocked by his discovery. “Killer Kowalski. Right here in Sturdivant. All this time. Unbelievable. Just un-fucking-believable.”

“I know just what you mean, fat boy,” Billy says. “I don’t like to hurt people for the entertainment of other people, either.”

For the barest instant, Walker feels just the faintest glimmer of hope. But there’s something in Billy’s voice, a ragged undertone, that gives the lie to his words and sets Walker’s teeth on edge.

“I like to hurt people for my own entertainment,” Billy explains. He grabs Sunshine’s arm and yanks her away from Nathan. Sunshine desperately clutches at Nathan with her free hand, but Billy’s attack has been too sudden, too unexpected, and Nathan’s arm slips through her fingers.

Sunshine gasps in surprise and terror as Billy pulls her to him, slamming her body into his, front to front. He releases her arm, but it’s just to rearrange his grip; sliding both of his arms around her waist, he presses the small of her back firmly into him. Sunshine had managed to fling up both hands in an instinctive attempt at self-defense, and these hands are now pressed against Billy’s chest, her upper body leaning back as she tries to distance herself from him. She’s not struggling, and Walker’s not sure if that’s because of her commitment to non-violence, or because of the obvious futility in trying to fight Billy, who must outweigh her by 100 pounds.

Which, Walker thinks, is probably about as much as I outweigh Billy.

I could wipe up the street with this punk. It wouldn’t even take very long. And it would feel awfully good.

But... Nathan teaches us that violence only begets more violence. And because of my size, I have a special responsibility to control myself, to control my anger, to avoid causing damage to others – which, as Nathan teaches, would ultimately only cause damage to myself.

But... This filthy, vile degenerate is scaring Sunshine, and he’s obviously quite capable of hurting her. He must be stopped.

Maybe violence is justified under certain circumstances.

And maybe this is one of them.

Maybe.

Walker glances over at Nathan – who, surprisingly, seems to be the only person in the alley whose attention has not been captured by the atrocity unfolding just a few feet in front of him. Instead, Nathan stares intently back at Walker, as if he has just been waiting for Walker to glance over at him. When Walker’s eyes meet his, he smiles. He seems to be perfectly relaxed.

Walker starts to sweat. His mind begins to race out of control. This entire scene is being staged for my benefit, he thinks. This is some kind of test; Nathan wants to see how I’m going to react. But that can’t be – there’s no way that Nathan could have arranged this, or even anticipated it. And even if he could have, he wouldn’t subject Sunshine to this humiliation just to evaluate my dedication to non-violence.

Would he?

“Nathan.” Walker finds it difficult to speak; his lips are dry, his throat parched. “Nathan,” he repeats, “can’t we do something?”

He expects – or, perhaps, dreads – a typical Nathan response, something like: What is it that you would like to do, Walker?

“We can do a great many things, Walker,” is what Nathan actually says. “Or we can do nothing at all. It is not important. It is illusion.” He waves his hand, dismissing the issue, writing it off as inconsequential. “You cannot control what other people do, Walker,” he says, gently. “You can only determine your own thoughts, your own actions, your own perceptions. You create your own world, Walker. You know this.”

He’s teaching me a goddamn lesson, Walker thinks, suddenly angry. My beautiful sister, who comforted me when I was afraid, she’s being manhandled by the town bully right before my eyes; and all Nathan can do is spout homilies.

Just as quickly, Walker is horrified by his own thoughts. In the midst of all the turbulence, Nathan has sensed his distress and is taking the time to help him, and his response has been anger. And he’s sure that Nathan has seen the anger flash in his eyes – but he also knows, just as quickly, that it’s alright, that Nathan understands and forgives him. If nothing else, this incident is showing him that he’s not as far along as he had thought – that, in his pride, he has considered himself to be more spiritually advanced than he really is. How can he hope to influence other people when he can’t even get his own act together?

All of which, of course, still leaves the fundamental problem unresolved. Billy still holds Sunshine, and he’s not showing any sign that he’s even remotely thinking about letting her go...

And just then, Sunshine shrieks, a single, short burst, sounding more surprised than hurt. Walker sees that Billy has swung Sunshine around so that she’s facing away from him. He’s pressing her body tightly to his, his hands are firmly wrapped around her waist. He’s whispering something into her ear. Sunshine closes her eyes in dumb horror, but she’s not trying to escape. She’s too terrified to move, Walker thinks.

Billy’s hand slides higher on Sunshine’s robe, staining the white purity of the simple garment with dark streaks of grime and blood. He finds her breast through the heavy fabric and squeezes, a nearly demonic grin spreading on his face. His hands graze over Sunshine’s chest, stroking and squeezing; Sunshine keeps her eyes closed, but her lips move silently as if she were praying. She’s chanting her mantra, Walker realizes.

“This is too much,” Billy says. “This is too fucking much. I’m grabbing this bitch’s tits right here in front of you guys, and you ain’t doing shit.” He laughs, scornfully. “What a bunch of pussies,” he adds, derisively. It seems that everyone but Billy is paralyzed, and Billy seems to be gaining energy with each passing second, as if he were leeching strength from everyone else.

“That feel good, baby?” Billy croons to Sunshine with mock sweetness, as he continues to fondle her. “Let’s see what you got under this fuckin’ robe,” he says. And he grabs a fold of the robe and pulls, hard.

“Please, don’t,” Sunshine begs softly, pitifully, her eyes firmly shut. The fabric holds as Billy yanks once, twice; but with the third pull, the front of the robe rips open. Sunshine sobs. Nobody moves.

“Holy shit,” Billy says, as he stares over her shoulder. Under her robe, Sunshine is wearing only a tight, white T-shirt and plain white panties. The form-fitting shirt is quite revealing, the outlines of Sunshine’s nipples are clearly visible through the taut fabric. Billy tweaks a nipple with each hand, hard. Sunshine stiffens and grits her teeth.

“Man, you guys are too much,” Billy repeats, as his hands continue to idly explore Sunshine’s body. He glances at Walker, who is trembling with the effort of restraining his anger. “Whaddya think, fat boy?” Billy asks. “What would you do if I ripped off this bitch’s undies and fucked her right here in the street? Stand there and watch?” He leers, and he lets one hand wander down past Sunshine’s waist; he laughs as he sees the sudden spark of pain in Walker’s eyes.

“Billy?” Stevie speaks hesitantly, and Walker is heartened by the possibility that Billy’s friends may not be entirely comfortable with what’s going on. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” Stevie says, although without much conviction, as if he’s quickly decided that arguing with Billy might not be such a good idea, either.

“Aw, shit, don’t worry about it Stevie. Here.” Billy swings Sunshine around and flings her at Stevie, who catches her more to stop her from falling than to prevent her from escaping. “Go ahead,” Billy says, “do whatever you want. She ain’t gonna scream or fight or nothin’. She believes in free love, don’t you, baby?” He laughs.

“And here’s one for you too, Eddie,” Billy says, and he advances on Chastity, whose eyes widen with fear as Billy approaches.

She gasps when he touches her. “No,” she whispers, a low moan. “Please, no.”

But Billy yanks her sharply away from Nathan, and pulls her roughly over to where Eddie stands, eyes wide. “Here you go, Eddie,” Billy says magnanimously, as he hands Chastity to him. “Go ahead, squeeze her titties, she won’t mind.”

But as far as Walker can see, there’s little chance that Eddie’s going to do anything of the sort. In fact, Walker has the distinct impression that this may be the closest that Eddie has ever been to a woman, he seems to be completely baffled by the situation, and maybe a little scared. Walker can hear Chastity whisper something to Eddie, it sounded like she said: Please don’t hurt me. And Eddie looks shocked, and maybe a little wounded, like why would this girl think that he was going to hurt her?

Suddenly, Walker realizes that he’s making mental equations, which he hasn’t done since his bar-fighting days, many years ago, but old habits die hard. He could take on all three guys, probably. Unless they have knives. And maybe even then. But the skinny guys, Eddie and Stevie, they aren’t real eager to fight. If I take Billy out, they’ll run for cover.

So the fight, if it comes down to it, is going to be just me and Billy.

And that won’t be a fight.

That will be a pleasure.

§ § § § § § § § § §

Walker’s not the only one whose fighting instincts are measuring the subtle changes in the flow of power. Billy Barton is feeling it too, and he knows that he needs to do something to keep his momentum, before he loses the upper hand entirely.

So he decides to take a chance. He swaggers up to Walker and says, “Well, whaddya think, fat boy?” Close up, Walker is even more impossibly large than he appeared to be only a few feet away, and Billy has to tilt his head back pretty far just to make eye contact. It occurs to him that this may not be such a good idea. But what the hell.

“I got both of your women now,” Billy says, with a sneer, “and it looks like me and the boys are gonna fuck the shit out of them, pass ‘em around, have ourselves a good old-fashioned gang-bang right here in the middle of the fuckin’ alley. You man enough to do anything about it?”

Walker appears to be shaking violently, he may on the verge of losing control. “Please,” he begs, staring down at Billy. “Please don’t make me do something I don’t want to do.”

OK, so maybe this wasn’t such a great idea after all, Billy thinks, as he watches Walker struggle to control himself. This guy’s about to explode. Maybe I better switch to a softer target.

So he pivots away from Walker and takes a few quick steps over to Nathan, who still wears that same annoyingly pleasant expression. It’s like he’s a spectator, not a participant. It’s like he’s watching a goddamn movie.

“Hey, Stevie,” Billy yells over his shoulder, never taking his eyes off Nathan’s. “I think I know why this guy’s smiling. He gets off on this shit. He likes to watch other guys play with his women.” Billy grins his evil grin. “That’s what turns you on, ain’t it, Pops?”

To Billy’s surprise, Nathan just smiles back at him, his eyes twinkling. “If you’re asking if I enjoy watching you cause pain,” he says, “then I must tell you that I enjoy it just as much as if you were causing pleasure. You see, Billy, it’s really all the same.”

Billy frowns. “Let me see if I got this, you fuckin’ weirdo. Are you trying to tell me that there’s no difference between hurtin’ people and makin’ ‘em feel good?”

“Pain and pleasure are but different manifestations of the same principle, Billy. It’s really all up here.” Nathan taps his head with his forefinger. “It’s all an illusion. You’re not responsible for making anyone else feel pain, just as you’re not responsible for providing them with pleasure. Pain and pleasure both come from within; each of us is responsible for...”

Well, shit, buddy, Billy thinks, I can sure as hell be responsible for making you feel some pain. And he kicks Nathan in the crotch, hard, his leg parting the folds of Nathan’s robe, his heavily booted foot making firm and satisfying contact with Nathan’s testicles.

Let’s see how much of an illusion that is, you asshole.