Chapter Fifty Three

 

9:55 .m. EST

 

“Buckle up tight, Boobie,” Glenda said to Zack.

Zack tugged his seat belt and viewed the twinkling lights that dotted the rising landscape below. In the surreal silence, his thoughts mixed a thousand memories, wishes and might-have-beens—Fifty-two spins around the sun, and you die in Marylandnot good time to think of futuresThey say it all flashes byas you get closer to the end you pray or pay or somethingdo you have a choice?Heaven and helland even now the doubt. But the intellect concedes the doubtfeeds the doubtwhat’s that?free willwho the hell is Joe Case anyway?

He recalled a verse from Ecclesiastes, 9:11: “I returned, and saw under the sun, that the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, neither yet bread to the wise, nor yet riches to men of understanding, nor yet favor to men of skill; but time and chance happens to them all.”

Time and chance happens to them all—that explains it. Bus hit by a train, baby dropped down a wellthe tornado that killed Frick but left neighbor Frack untouchedtwo seconds either waysenseless, luck of the draw.

He shook his head. And then there’s omnipotence, knowledge of past, present, and future. How can that jog alongside free will?

He mumbled, “Logic of Tweedledee.”

Glenda said, “You okay, Boobie?”

“Yes, thank you.”

He thought about the times he slugged it out with himself, his bishop, his conscience; forgiving, forgetful, young-at-forty-five Elizabeth, Sister Ursula’s lead-pipe cinch turns out to be a monkey-wrench curse. Then there’s O’Brien.

“You mumbling Boobie or praying?” Glenda said.

“Praying.”

“You think it helps?”

“I’m still working on it.”

He went back to his thoughts: Maryfirst day of fall semester. She strolls in to his classroom, a gift dropped through the ceiling, lands front row, center. Trolling from the start. Was that the sign I had been seeking? How do you know? Some signs are between the eyes, others a glimmer at night, a passing train, black nights, no light, no hope, no nothing. Can we never know the truth except we die? But then, think about it—I was never really afraid to die. Honestly, I almost long for the adventure. If only I could believe. It’s called faith, Jocko. Augustinian faith. Help me to be pure, Lord, but not just yet, got a few things to doright.

Zack felt that presence again, Joe Case, and heard that in-your-face voice, How many steaks can you eat a week?

“You’re mumbling again, Zack,” Glenda said then addressed the co-pilot. “Listen up, Herb. Don’t nobody pick their nose just yet, this is going to be one helluva gotcha landing.”

Zack watched yet another string of approach lights growing larger as the plane descended like a falling star to the Baltimore airport. He observed Glenda, in a blur of beeps, flashing lights and quick movements, calling out this and that to the co-pilot, switching things and looking like she was a kid at a game in a video arcade. He noticed her smiling.

She really is enjoying this, he thought.

“Buckaroo time” Glenda shouted.

The jet hit the runway with a jarring thud. Zack watched Glenda slam controls and stiffen her legs. The engines thundered.

Zack’s seatbelt tightened around him; he fought the pressure forward. He looked at the runway lights flashing by. The tires screamed over muffled human screams and shouts from the rear.

“We’re not going to make it,” he mumbled.

“You’re mumbling again, BooBoobie.” Glenda’s voice shook with the vibrating airplane. “Anyway, I’m going to getyou roolled out to the end of this runway. When this crate stops, hit an emergency exit in the cabin and get your little fanny in the clover, soto speak. Then it’s up to yooou, okay?”

The plane began to slow, and Zack smiled. We’re going to make it. “Got it.”

With a final little jolt they came to a stop and Glenda took a deep breath. She looked at an army of distant red flashing lights streaming toward the plane. She said to Herb, “did we just land at BWI?”

“I’m afraid so.”

She looked at Zack and shook her head. “The emergency vehicles are rolling, Boobie. Better hurry and duck it, ’cause if you’re wrong about this, my tush is going to be flying Eskimo pies to Alaska and you’re going to the lethal injection table.”

Zack said, “Captain, where are you from?”

“Parts unknown, why?”

“You ever know a Joe Case?”’

“No, why?”

“Nothing.”

“Looks like plenty of running room over that fence, Boobie. You better get your butt moving.”