Most politicians are just high-level occultists in two-thousand dollar suits. Same goes for the heads of industry - CEO’s, oil tycoons, banking magnates and all the royal families. Those incestuous, pedophilic fucking royals!
But their day is near - the public won’t keep their heads down or mouths shut much longer. I’m going to be a big part of that transformation. The reclaiming of society. The world.
Fuck these sodomites - they can’t have it anymore.
I’ll find my place soon. Infiltration if need be. I’ll take what’s theirs and make it mine. The greatest good.
There’s always dissent in the ranks. I’ll take advantage of naturally occurring cracks, foster discontent, reallocate those who feel they belong elsewhere, build my own network - then rain Hell down on the enemy.
They will never see it coming.
Upon release from the psych ward, Caldwell takes up temporary residence with his aunt Linda - sister of his father Cameron. She was the only solid relationship in his life going back to childhood - his dad disappearing when he was just a teenager.
“Can I use your ride?” he calls out.
Linda steps into the hallway’s opening -
“You sure you’re up to it? Second day home.”
“I just want to take a drive, get some food.”
She slips him a barely-there grin.
“Take me to work and it’s yours.” she replies and disappears back down the hall.
“You need me to pick you up later?”
Footsteps getting closer.
“Nah, I’ll get a lift.” she answers, re-entering the living room.
The main strip leading downtown was more battered than he’d ever seen. Everything choking on the stale, rundown flavor of neglect - the potholed streets, overgrown grassy plots, litter blowing like tumbleweed - and working girls dotting various corners during daylight hours. A borough in decline.
He makes the block twice, honing in on one of the streetwalkers - young, pretty, jet-black dye job.
Caldwell turns onto the side street, waving her over. She gives him a quick study and heads his direction.
“What are you lookin’ for?” she asks, inches from the open window.
“You do hourly rates?”
Her face bemused.
“I usually charge by the act.”
He retrieves a small stack of bills from his right, front pocket - then looks in his wallet.
“A hundred for two hours?”
“Two-hundred.” she spits back.
He sighs and re-counts the wad.
“How ‘bout one-twenty-five - and I’ll buy you dinner?”
She tightens down on him with her lustrous baby blues.
“Motherfucker.” she declares softly, then rounds the front of the car and climbs into the passenger seat.
“You like Wendy’s?” he questions awkwardly.
Her eyes roll.
“Go.”
The car shifts into gear and advances down the street.
After a successful drive-thru venture, they park in the lot of a church to break bread. Caldwell checks the first bag - passes it to his guest.
“What’s your name?” he asks.
She applies a blob of ketchup to her fries.
“Why? So you know what to scream out later?”
“That’s not what this is - I just want to talk.”
He starts in on his burger. She pops a fry in her mouth.
“Samantha.” she says while chewing.
“That your real name?”
“Does it matter?”
He turns and eyes her up.
“How old are you?”
She has a few sips of her soda.
“You a cop or something?” she asks through a smirk.
He gives her a yeah right grimace.
“Twenty-four.”
They sit and eat quietly a few moments.
“So what’s your story?” she prods.
“What do you mean?”
“Like, is this some sort of fetish, picking up hookers and getting to know them over junk food?”
Caldwell hesitates before responding.
“I just got out of the hospital.”
“Shit, what for?”
“Lindenwood.”
“Oh. What happened?”
He takes a big bite of his burger.
“Kind of a - breakdown, I guess.” he mumbles with his mouth full.
She very cautiously peers to the right, checking the status of her door’s lock.
“Did it help?”
He shoves a few fries into his face, then giggles.
“Yeah, I think so.” he says nodding, gifting her with a slanted smile.
She takes another pull from her drink.
“Good. I’m glad.”
They finish their food and combine their trash. Caldwell stuffs the bag under his seat.
“So what are you gonna do now, that you’re out?”
He fidgets and scans the dash.
“You mind if we drive around a while?”
“Sure.”
Dusk settles in and they leave the oddly unlit church parking area.
“I have a couple friends, we’ve been talking - about the world, how everything’s gone to shit. Somebody should step in and make some changes.”
“You mean like politics?”
The vehicle slows to a stop at a red light.
“Sort of - but not really.”
“OK?”
The light switches to green, Caldwell eases on the gas.
“Not politics as in - conventional measures.”
“That’s kinda muddy.” she adds.
They take a corner, Caldwell accelerates into the straight away.
“Some people need more convincing than please and thank you.”
“Ya lost me.” she admits.
He looks over at her as she stares out the window - being very careful with his words. Can she be trusted? Is she even made for this?
“I don’t know man, sometimes I have trouble articulating myself.”
She turns and offers a gentle smile.
“Me too.”
Samantha directs another uneasy glimpse at her door lock.
