Whispering Stone - 1. Chapter 1

Whispering Stone

Twenty Year Old Male Found Badly Beaten Near A popular Bar For Homosexuals. That was the header above a newspaper article that Wayne Phillips had clipped and saved and was using as a bookmark for a novel he was reading which was setting on the coffee table.

 

He stirred sugar and a bit of milk into his cup of coffee and took it to the couch and sat down with the intentions of continuing reading his novel. When he opened it to the bookmark, once again he read the disturbing article. He began reading where he left off. But because the Gay bar referred to in the article was one that he preferred and frequented often, the murder hung heavy on his awareness, and he found it hard to concentrate on the novel. He finally gave up and put the clipping bookmark in the book, set the novel on the coffee table, and got ready to meet his brother to play pool.

 

Wayne Phillips and William; his straight twin brother, regularly met on Friday nights at eight PM and played pool until ten. William refused to play at a Gay bar after being hit on a half dozen or more times, so they played at Joe John’s, a regular bar.

 

Early July was hotter than normal, and the brief thunder storm that moved in at half past two that afternoon had deposited enough rain on the sizzling blacktop streets to make the air tight and sultry. So Wayne dressed in cutoff denim shorts and an ordinary white T-shirt and left his apartment. He was ten minutes late when he arrived at Joe John’s bar. Will was sitting in a booth sipping a beer.

 

“Hi, Will,” Wayne said, sounding apologetic.

 

“Hi. I got here just a few minutes ago myself. Order a beer and we’ll chat before playing.”

 

Wayne flagged the waitress, and then sat in the booth across from his brother. Crystal, the wide-load bleached blonde waitress came to their booth and stared at Wayne.

 

“Hi. I think you’re Wayne,” she said, and continued chewing gum like a teen age girl; a habit that annoyed Wayne.

“I am,” he said, “and I’d like a draft of Bud.”

“You two should wear name tags. I can never be sure which one of you handsome studs is who, because you look so damn much alike.”

“The beer, please!” said Wayne impatiently, and miffed about her persistent small talk blathering every time he and William played pool.

 

“Keep your Jockeys on sweetie. I’m sure you won’t dehydrate before I get back.”

She looked at Wayne and grimaced, and then left. William smirked.

“Ease off, Wayne. Crystal just likes to talk,” said William.

“Yeah, I know all too well. How are Mariana and Thor?”

“Mariana can hardly wait to birth the baby, and Thor is getting ornerier by the day,” William said. “Each day he’s looking more like you and me.”

“That may be more of a curse than a blessing. It sure hasn’t helped me in my love life.”

 

Crystal came back and set a frosty mug of beer on a coaster in front of Wayne. He handed her a ten.

“Do you need change, honey?” she asked.

“Yes!” said Wayne assertively.

He knew the game and hated it when asked. Especially now when his finances were getting tight. Crystal put the change on the table, and Wayne handed her a one for a tip. She indignantly snatched it up and left.

 

“Wayne, you and I are twenty-nine years old,” began William. “I’ve been married seven years and have a six year old boy. When are you going to find a man and settled down?”

“What brought that on? You don’t just turn your back to a bulletin board with names on it and throw a dart over your shoulder and go out and look for a man with that name.”

“I meant no offense. I thought you and Mark Bruster had a real thing going, but he faded from the scene a couple of months ago. I met him twice and liked him. What happened?”

“I made a mistake, Will. Mark loved me and perhaps he still does. I loved him then and still do, but I just wasn’t ready to settle down.”

“When will you be ready…thirty-five? Forty? A man needs love and companionship, and I doubt you’ll find it in those Gay bars. A straight bar is the same way. You know…, get a drink. Survey the options. Pick a chick, or in your case a guy who looks hot and like an easy lay. You make a pass. He goes home with you or you go to his place. Maybe you converse, or maybe you skip page two and go straight to page three. You both get your rocks off, smoke a cigarette, or not, and the sex-for-a-night guest leaves. End of story. Because you are Gay, it’s dangerous too.”

“Dangerous! I’m not stupid! Protection is always used.”

“I didn’t mean that danger! Two weeks ago you told me that a Gay man had left a Gay bar late at night and was found badly beaten in the alley one block from the bar. You said he died two days later. I wouldn’t want to loose the only brother I have and love. There’s a lot of hate out there toward people who are different. Frankly, I worry about you.”

“Yeah. Well, that’s the kind of homophobic world we live in. A person can’t let that stop him from living just because there are a few nut cases out there. That bar is in a questionable neighborhood, not even close to Jocks, the bar where I go.”

“That’s hardly a reason to feel safe.”

 

“This kind of talk is giving me the creeps. Let’s talk about something else, Will. How’s your job going?” Wayne asked.

“It was fine until Jerry hired a new finance comptroller. His name is Turk Underwood. He’s an asshole! He’s one of those religious fanatics. On Sundays he preaches in one of those radical evangelistic churches. That wouldn’t be a problem if he would just keep it in his church. But he goes around apostolating his theology to the rest of us at work. When I told him I wasn’t interested, he said that was all the more reason I needed to be born again. I indignantly told him I had work to do and to leave. Before he turned to leave he said, ‘God loves you’. I said, ‘God wants me to finish what I’m doing…leave’!”

“Did he stop bothering you after that?”

“For five working days. His next approach was indirect. He stopped by my cubical and started ranting about the sins of homosexuality. That’s when I went off on him. Loud enough so that the whole damn office could hear, I told him that I have a Gay twin brother, and to not speak to me about religion again because his type hates Gays. I’m getting myself upset. Let’s play some pool.”

“Yeah, let’s,” Wayne said, smiling.

 

After four games, they were tied at two games to two. Wayne glanced at his watch.

“Is it okay with you if we play off the tie and leave?” asked Wayne.

“Sure. I need to spend some time with my wife and kid before going to bed. I beat the last game, so it’s your rack.”

William played the best game of the night and won. Wayne only pocketed three balls. They finished their beers then left.

 

They paused on the sidewalk in front of the bar before going to their respective cars.

“I suppose you’re going to Jocks bar,” said Will.

“Sure am. I’m horny as hell.”

“Whore.”

“Jealous.”

“You know it. And I suppose Sunday you’ll go to the Maxwell Street Market and buy some more junk.”

“It may be junk to you, Will, but you’ll have to admit that the things I collect are unique.”

“Yeah, things no one else wants. Well, don’t get too drunk to drive.”

“I never do. Goodnight, brother.”

“Goodnight, Wayne, and please be careful when you leave the bar!”

“I’m not afraid of anyone, but I will be vigilant. Bye.”

 

Wayne was surprised to find two parking spaces when he got to Jocks. He was even more surprised to see how un-crowded it was. At the bar he flagged Blake, the bartender.

“Hi, Wayne, What’ll you have?”

“Just a beer. Make it Miller Lite. Where is everyone? Am I too early?”

“It’s not a bad crowd considering what happened Wednesday night at the Blue Boys bar down the street.”

“I haven’t heard.”

“A killing again. Stabbed several times. Only twenty-one. Cut down by some sick homophobe when he was just beginning to live. His body was found between parked cars.”

“Damn! Are you sure that the victim was another Gay man like the guy that got beaten up and then died?”

“Yeah. One of my regular customers too, although I don’t know him by name. And Blue Boys club, where he had been, is just two blocks from here. This ain’t good for business. Guys are afraid to go barring now.”

“Any witnesses this time?”

“None…again. Or at least no has come forward. I’ll get your beer.”

 

Although the bar was not as heavily crowded as usual, there were still a few possibilities. Wayne meandered through the crowd for a while, hoping to see someone desirable to go home with and make out. But the murder a week before and tonight’s news of a murder had upset him and dampened his lust. He finished his beer and reluctantly drove home alone. He read a while, but found it hard to concentrate and went to bed early. Saturday, he did the laundry and went for a bike ride in Lincoln Park. He was looking forward to going shopping Sunday for quaint little treasures at the Maxwell Street Market.

 

The blistering sun seemed to be concentrating on the Maxwell Street Market. Briny sweat stung as it trickled down Wayne’s brow and into his eyes. The Market seemed even more crowded than usual, and the stench of sweat was pungent. He quickly assessed the wares in each both, but found nothing to fill his empty gym bag. He grinned when he saw a pretty dewy eyed young lady sitting in a chair devouring the spiel from the gypsy fortune teller who was probably not a gypsy at all. The Maxwell Street Market had it’s share of seedy merchants, making it interesting just to be there. It attracted some customers who looked equally seedy. Wayne loved to shop there and observe. He finally spotted something of interest. High up on a shelf a toy wooden solider leaned precariously against an old fashioned metal child’s lunch box festooned with Disney cartoon characters.

“I’d like to look at that soldier,” Wayne said to the wrinkled, hunchback old lady sitting on a stool.

She slowly rose from her stool and placed it next to the shelves and laborishly climbed onto it and reached for the soldier. Then she carefully got down and handed it to Wayne.

“It’s an antique, you know,” she said. “Probably worth some’n if it weren’t a little bit damaged.”

Wayne grinned at her sales pitch as he examined the toy. It’s left arm had been broken and poorly repaired with a nail. It’s head was slightly splintered. It was just the type of thing that sparked Wayne’s fancy and earned the title of “junk” by brother William. Wayne could imagine it sitting under the tree Christmas morning, and a Cocker Spaniel beating the children down the stairs and grabbing the soldier and running off with it and damaging it before anyone could take it away. Imagining scenarios about the odd items he bought and put on the shelves of his second bedroom had become his hobby. He would sometimes get on his computer and weave a short yarn about them, and then compose one with a different twist. With his strong imagination, the possibilities were endless.

“How much, ma'am?” he asked.

“You look like a nice young man. I’ll let you have it for seven dollars,” she said, studying Wayne for his reaction.

“But it’s badly damaged,” complained Wayne.

“Well…it’s probably an antique, but no one seems to appreciate antiques anymore. I’ll let you have it for five dollars.”

“Five is almost too much, but I’ll take it for three,” said Wayne.

“Well…okay,” she said frowning.

Wayne paid the old lady and put the soldier in his gym bag and walked on. He soon spotted a rare and well defined eighteen inch high white acrylic statue of the famous nude discus thrower sculpture. He badly wanted it, but tried to look barely interested. It was the typical game at the Maxwell Street Market, and the vendors and buyers both knew it.

“That’s a kind of an interesting statue,” Wayne said. “How much?”

“Fifteen dollars,” said the thickset middle age man in the booth.

“Fifteen! Sir, it probably didn’t cost that new!”

“It’s unusually large and rare, boy. Ain’t many this size around nowadays. Most of them are much smaller and it’s private parts are finely detailed, if that‘s what you’re interested in,” he said, and winked with a smirk.

“You’ve got me pegged. I’ll give you ten,” said Wayne.

“Twelve! And not a penny less!”

“I’ll take it.”

 

That was more than Wayne liked to spend at the Market, but it would offer plenty of sexual stimulus to fantasize about. It was a Gay thing; a beautiful sculpture of a totally nude man in a graceful action stance. He was extremely glad to have found it. He carefully lowered it into his gym bag and walked on. Then he turned and walked down another street of vendors. He stopped at a booth that had old junky looking items, and looked for something old that might have an interesting history. He was about to walk on when an old man wearing bib overalls rose from a chair and stood on the other side of the piece of plywood that sufficed for a counter and held up by a pair of sawhorses .

“Good morning, son,” the old man said in a raspy voice. He sported a long full tobacco stained beard. His eyes were a mystic gray-blue that seemed to uniquely captivate and somewhat hypnotize, giving Wayne and eerie feeling. His stubby fingers looked sunburned and weathered.

“Hello, sir,” Wayne said. “Just looking.”

“Sure. See anything you like?”

“Not really.”

“Then let me show you something real interesting. You’ll like it.”

The old gentleman grunted when he bent to rummage through one of the cardboard packing boxes. He raised up and turned around and set something gently down on the counter as if it were precious. It was the most unusual thing that Wayne had ever seen. It appeared to be a rough ugly grayish-brown rock, except for a large egg-shaped area that appeared to be a glassy translucent stunning viridian green, partially ensconce by the ugly crust as if part of the crust had been broken away exposing the green. Wayne bent over it, and he felt like he was being pulled into it much like the mythical sea sirens lured Ulysses’ boat crashing into the coastal rocks.

“It’s…, it‘s quit different,” Wayne said tentatively. “How much, sir?”

“Thirty dollars. It is so extremely rare that it’s source is unknown.”

“It is nice, but I can’t pay that much. Sorry, sir,” said Wayne.

Then the man bent over the makeshift counter and looked deep into Wayne’s eyes. Wayne caught the foul odor of chewing tobacco.

“This stone was meant for you and you alone, young man,” whispered the old gentleman as if he meant it and didn’t want anyone else to hear.

Wayne glanced dubiously at the strange stone. Then the man grabbed Wayne’s right wrist and gently twisted it palm side up.

“Open your hand, young man.”

Wayne did, and the old man placed the strange stone, green side up, in Wayne’s hand. Wayne wasn’t sure what was going on. The merchant pushed Wayne’s fingers around the rock.

“I said, I can’t afford it, sir.”

“Never mind. Take very special care of this gift, friend. I told you that it was meant for you, and you alone. In time you will understand why.”

“You’re giving it to me, sir?”

“Have a safe day,” said the man who was as strange as the rock itself.

“Thank, you, sir.” Wayne said. “Thank you very much.”

The merchant simply nodded, then sit back down on his chair. He looked at Wayne with a hyper-serious stare, and his steely eyes followed when Wayne turned and left.

 

Wayne put the stone in his gym bag and started retracing his steps through the Maxwell Street market and back to his car. A strange and indefinable feeling swept over him, making him feel ungrounded as he drove back to his apartment. He wondered why the old vendor had given him something that had been priced so high. And why had he said, “It was meant for you, and you alone“. When home, Wayne set the items on the coffee table and reheated a cup of coffee. Then he sat on the couch and accessed the items. He found that his interest in imagining scenarios for the damaged soldier had been dwarfed by the mysterious rock. The discus thrower was awesomely beautiful and something he had always wanted, but it too lacked the intrigue of the rock. He picked up the stone and held it in his lap, gazing into the depths of the vivid viridian-colored egg-shaped portion. It looked transparent, but when he brought it close to his eyes, the interior surface of the surrounding crude brownish crust on the other side could not be seen. The stone defied diagnoses. That caused Wayne to marvel at it and grin. Then the stone began to gradually warm in his hand. That caused his pulse to soar. But rather than set it down, he kept hold of it, wondering how warm it might get. Instead of getting warmer, a milky haze began to form in the sea of green. It gradually took the ghost-like shape of a man’s head complete with a beard, and looked exactly like the old vender who gave the stone to him. That frightened Wayne more than any experience he could remember. His natural response would have been to panic and quickly throw the rock on the floor, but he felt paralyzed and helpless to do so. He was hypnotized and rendered immobile. Then, to his further shock, the face whispered two words; not audibly, but telepathically. “Beware”, and “Danger.” Wayne’s throat tightened and he quaked, and sweat formed in his armpits. Then, more suddenly than the stone had warmed and the face appeared, the warmness left and the face vanished. For nearly a minute, Wayne remained mesmerized. He finally regained his composure and set the rock in front of him on the coffee table. It frightened him, and he wanted to talk to someone about it, but it was nearly eleven PM. He didn’t dare call William and wake him or his wife at that hour. The only other person who might not resent it was Mark Bruster, the one person that might be willing to talk to him about the stone, or maybe even come over and spend the night unless he had gone out and scored and gone home with some guy or brought someone to his place. But Wayne was still upset about what happened with the strange stone, so his sense of urgency to talk to someone about it outweighed his sense of guilt. He picked up the phone and dialed Mark’s number. It rang five times before Mark answered.

“Hello…who is this?” said Mark.

“Wayne. Were you asleep?”

“Yes. By the way, I was at Jocks Friday night when you came in.”

“You were? Why didn’t you say hello?”

“Huh? In case you don’t know it, I was and still am hurt about you’re saying you loved me too, but just weren’t ready to commit to being life-time partners when I proposed it.”

“I, uh…” Wayne hesitated. He wanted to be certain about what he was about to say.

“Wayne? Are you there?”

“Yes, Mark. Listen. I made a big mistake when I said ‘no’. I really mean that.”

“Are you serious? Are you saying that you’re ready to be a couple?”

“If you will still have me, yes.”

“Wow! That pulled the rug from beneath me! Of course I will. I still love you, Wayne.”

“And I love you. Why don’t you get dressed and come over and spend the night and all day tomorrow? We’ll have sex and make plans for our future tomorrow.”

“Bad timing, Wayne. My parents came in this morning, and they don’t plan on leaving until about five PM tomorrow.”

“Sorry to hear that. Could you come over after they leave?”

“Sure. But I can’t guarantee that they’ll leave exactly when planned.”

“Well, come as quickly as you can. I’ve been such a fool. I can hardly wait to make love again.”

“Me neither. I’m feeling kind of overwhelmed right now.”

“Me too. We’d better hang up so you can get some sleep. I love you.”

“Love you back…a lot! Goodnight, sweetheart.”

 

Wayne had at last made the commitment. He eased the receiver onto the cradle and stared at it briefly. He then looked at the rock. He suddenly rose from the couch and went to his bedroom. He didn’t want to look at the stone any longer, and certainly not pick it up. He lie awake for a long time, unable to stop thinking about the unique stone, the image in it, and the strange old man who gave it to him. But more haunting was the warning of danger. He finally dosed off just before three AM. He tossed all night and woke up tired a little past seven AM. He certainly didn’t want to throw the rock away, but he wanted to get away from it for a while.

 

He went for a bike ride on the long Lincoln Park bike path that ran between the outer drive and Lake Michigan. When tired, he chained the bike to a park bench and laid down on the bench and fell asleep. It was two thirty when he woke. He knew that his face, arms and legs were sunburned, so he went home. He went to his small second bedroom he’d converted into a den for his many books, his collection of odd things he’d bought at the Market, a cheap couch and his computer. He read until two PM, then he called William. There was no one that he could trust more to look at the stone and comment honestly and without judgment. He and William could qualify to be poster men as an example of twins who were always extremely close and identical, with the exception of their sexual preferences. Mariana answered the phone.

“Hi, it’s Wayne. Can I speak to Will?”

“Sure. Will, it’s your brother! He wants to talk to you!” she yelled.

“Hi, what’s up?” said William.

“There is something that I want you to see. Will you come over?”

“Some junk you bought at the Market Saturday? No way!”

“This is as far away from junk as we are from the sun. Please, Will.”

“Please? You must be serious! Okay. In fifteen or so minutes. Bye.”

Wayne paced the floor drinking coffee while he waited. When William arrived he was carrying a six-pack of cold beer.

“Thanks for the beer, Will. But I have beer in the frig,” said Wayne.

“I brought this just in case you didn’t. Just think of me as a cowboy from the old west who never left the ranch house without his gun. Now, what is this thing that you want me to see?”

“Let’s open two of those beers first. You might need one.”

William opened the beers and took a seat on the couch.

“That’s it,” Wayne said, pointing to the mysterious rock on the coffee table. Then he sat down beside William.

“That’s a weird looking thing,” William said. “What is it?”

“I don’t know. I bought it from an odd old man at the market. What do you think of the composition?”

William picked it up and turned it in his hands.

“Off hand I would have said it’s a geode. But the layer of crud on the outside doesn’t chip away from the crystal like interior of a geode like this thing. Also, the color is completely wrong. They’re always amethyst. And the crystal interior of a geode is hollow and full of fissures. The green part of this looks solid all the way through. It’s interesting, but why did you think it was so important that I just had to come over to see it right now?”

“Well, here goes nothing. It has communicated with me.”

“What! That’s nuts! Rocks can’t talk. Get serious, Wayne.”

“I’m not pulling your leg. Okay, here’s the full story of what happened. I bought three things at the Maxwell Street Market. When I got home I put them on the coffee table, as you can see. The rock fascinated me, so I picked it up and gazed into the viridian green. Then I felt it warm in my hand. It kind of scared me, but I kept holding it. Here’s the strangest part. Like smoke from a cigarette, a ghostly image began to form into the face and head of an old man. The image looked like the old white-haired man who gave it to me.”

“Don’t do this, Wayne. That’s a solid piece of stone. Why are you making up this ridiculous story?”

“It gets worse. Bare with me. Without sound, it whispered something to me telepathically. Two words. Danger, and beware. It freaked me out.”

“Bull…shit! It’s not like you to make up shit like this. What’s gotten into you?”

“William…, I, like you, am not religious. But if I were, I’d put both hands on the bible and swear that everything I said is true. Frankly, that thing scares me to death.”

William leaned close to Wayne and carefully studied his eyes.

“Are you doing drugs, brother?”

“Hell no! You know that I don’t lie, especially to you. It’s true, Will.”

“Maybe something else scared you, and you were thinking about that when you held the rock and looked into it.”

“I was not! Forget it! I was hoping you’d believe me. Let’s change the subject.”

“That’s a damn good idea. Your lust for stimulating your imagination may be warping your imagination. It’s a good fantasy though. Why don’t you get on your computer and type it into a story. You could embellish it as much as you’d like, although you‘ve already done a pretty good job of that. Maybe you should take up a different hobby.”

“You’re pissing me off. Shut up!” Wayne said angrily. “Okay, you think of something else to talk about while we finish our beers.”

“Like what? Nothing’s happened since I saw you last. Oh yes! There is something I forgot to tell you. And you’re not going to like this.”

“You didn’t like what I said, so what’s the difference?”

“Don’t be like that. Rocks simply can‘t communicate. Anyway, on Fridays, all of us at work have to turn in a list of expenditures for the week. I completed my list and took it to the comptroller’s cubical. You know, Turk Underwood, that evangelistic nut case I told you about. As I approached his office I saw him walking away toward the coffee maker with cup in hand. I entered his cubical and put the report on his desk. The telephone book was lying open on his desk. In ballpoint, a name had been circled. Why do you still have a listed number?”

“He circled my name?”

“Yes. The only reason I can think of is to come to your apartment and apostolate his religion.”

“Is he really that aggressive?”

“Believe me, he is.”

“He’ll get a big surprise if he comes here. He’ll find himself being preached to about what I think of religion as it’s used in today’s world. He’ll wish he had never seen me. I kind of hope he does drop by.”

“You’ll be wasting your breath. Zealots like that only hear what they want to hear. By the way, have you given any more thought about getting back together with Mark?”

“Yes! Will, I made the commitment, and Mark said ‘yes’.”

“Terrific! I’m glad for both of you. I think you’ll make a great couple.”

“I hope so too.”

“Well, I’d better get back home.”

“Alright. I’m pissed that you don’t believe me about the stone, but at least you listened.”

“If I were you, I’d throw that freaky thing away.”

“Never!”

“Don’t be angry, Wayne. I’m only trying to help. In the past you told me that the weird stuff you buy at the Market stimulates your imagination. Perhaps you’re allowing your imagination to override your rationale.”

“I’ve had enough of you’re doubting me. Goodbye!”

“Bye, Wayne,” William calmly said, and closed the door behind him.

 

William’s attitude had angered and hurt Wayne. He tilted his can of beer and drank deeply. He decided to concentrate on the one good thing that had happened in a short period of time; Mark would be moving in to stay. He wondered if Mark might be more open minded about the whispering rock. But he doubted it, and decided to put it on the library shelves among his books and not mention it. He picked it up and turned it slowly in his hands. Then, to his shock, it once again warmed in his hand and the viridian portion began to glow. He stared at it, expecting the old man’s face to appear again. And it did. The lips didn’t move as once again it delivered a warning telepathically. “Danger coming soon. Beware”.

“Mark? Surely you don’t mean Mark!” Wayne said aloud to the stone. But there was no reply. And once again the stone returned to normal.

He immediately set the mysterious stone on the coffee table. The message sent chills through him. For the first time, he was beginning to doubt his sanity, and that unnerved him even more. He got up and put ice in a tumbler and filled it two-thirds full with bourbon, then gulped some down in two swallows. He looked around the room as if he were thinking that someone might have broken in while he was away and was hiding in a closet somewhere, waiting for the right moment to jump out and do him harm. He checked to make sure that the door was locked, then cautiously opened the closets in both bedrooms. Then he checked in the bathroom and behind the shower curtain. Feeling paranoid, but somewhat relieved, Wayne finished his drink of straight bourbon and laid down on the bed to relax. Soon he was restlessly sleeping.

 

It was past ten when he woke the next morning, and it was Sunday. He eagerly looked forward to seeing Mark again. As he heated coffee in the microwave he got an idea. He would eat, then go back to the market and talk to the old gentleman who had given him the curious stone, and try to find out more about it. He arrived before the Market was too crowded, and the heat was not as bad as yesterday. He walked quickly, retracing his steps to the old man’s booth. He was surprised to see another concession in it’s place. An old lady sat doing needle-point while she waited for someone to stop and look with interest at her large doll collection .

“Ma’am, there was a man in this booth yesterday. Did he quit the Market?”

“Young man, I’ve had this booth since May. No man works here.”

“But he…”

Wayne looked around and saw that the other concession booths were as they were the day before. He stepped to the booth next door.

“Sir, what happened to the man where the lady is now?”

“What man? That old gal has been here for months. She does better than I do. Don’t know why people are so fascinated with dolls.”

Wayne stepped quickly to the booth on the other side of the street. A man whittled on what would be a walking cane with the head of an old bearded man carved into the handle. He had quite a large collection.

“Hi. That booth over there,” Wayne said, and pointed. “Was there an old gray haired man with eyes that bored right through you working there yesterday?” Wayne asked.

“Nope. Not yesterday, not last week. Just that old gal. Would you be interested in one of my hand carved walking canes? The ones with a face will bring you luck.”

“No, thank you,” said Wayne.

Exasperated, Wayne opened his arms wide, palms up, and turned and looked at the three concession owners he’d spoken too.

“What in the hell is going on?” he shouted. “You are all lying!”

All three people gave him a stone-cold stare. Passersby turned to Wayne and frowned. Angry and confused, he turned and headed home, thinking that something strange was happening to his mind.

Why would those three people lie? he wondered. The rock is real. And damn it, so was that old man and his booth, and devoid of dolls. And the rock really did get warm in my hand, and I didn’t imagine hearing the warnings. What in the fuck is going on?

Because he had lost credibility with William, there was no one he could talk to about the mysterious disappearance of the old man who gave him the stone and the other merchants who lied about his existence. When Wayne got home he mixed a drink of bourbon and seven up, then put on a music CD as a diversion from the series of inexplicable occurrences. He wished Mark’s parents would decide to leave early so that Mark could be here now. He downed the drink quickly as if it were a soda, then mixed another. Not a big drinker of hard liquor, by the time he finished that drink he was feeling sleepy. He lied the length of the couch and soon fell asleep. It was past five-thirty when he woke, and Mark might show up at any time. Wayne’s apartment window faced east, so the apartment ambient light was beginning to dim. He switched on the light at the end of the couch. Then the stone began to brilliantly glow, dim, and glow again as if controlled remotely by a fast rheostat. He picked it up and looked for the face to appear, but it didn’t. Nor would the stone’s pulsing light stop it’s display, and it became hot to the touch. He quickly put it on the coffee table and stared at it intensely as his pulse accelerated. The sudden crack of a strike of lightning startled him, and he noticed that the outside light had grown very dim. Then the wind and rain hit with a vengeance. A knock on the door broke his trance.

“Mark! Thank Goodness,” Wayne said loudly.

He rushed to open the door. But to his surprise, it was a male stranger. He was tall and thin and well dressed. Wayne thought he saw a subtle intenseness in his face.

“Hello,” the stranger said.

“Hi. Who are you?” queried Wayne.

“I am a messenger from God. May I have a moment of your time?”

“I’m not interested!” said Wayne, frowning.

“I understand. Uh, could I ask a favor. My throat is dry like cotton. Could I have a drink, please?”

“Oh…sure. Come in and close the door. I’ll get a glass of water.”

“Thank you young man,” the stranger said.

Wayne turned and noticed that the stone had not only stopped glowing, it had surrendered it’s rich color to a dull gray. As he stepped toward the kitchen, a loud clap of thunder startled him, and the apartment became nearly dark. There had been no prediction of rain, but the tempest had unleashed a sudden downpour. He turned to switch on the lamp. But what he saw in the gloom was the blur of the man rushing him. Wayne felt strong hands grasp his throat. He grabbed the stranger’s hands to pry them loose. But they were too strong. Wayne punched him in the face. The man stumbled backwards, but kept his grip on Wayne’s throat. In their struggle they fell to the floor, rolling around, each seeking the advantage. Wayne was becoming weak from lack of oxygen. The stranger then rolled over until Wayne was on his back beside the coffee table with the stranger straddling his waist and sitting on his stomach. Wayne’s hands had lost nearly all strength and his vision was blurring. He feared he would soon be dead. He saw his attacker reach for something on the coffee table. It was the stone. Wayne could barely see him raise it above his head, ready to strike. Then the stranger let out a blood cuddling scream and released his grip on Wayne’s throat. The stone thumped onto the carpet. The assailant rolled off of Wayne onto his side, then onto his back. He was holding his right wrist with his left hand, and groaning copiously. Tears were forming in his eyes as Wayne gasped for air and rose unsteadily to his feet. Wayne was shocked at what he saw. The palm and fingers of the attacker were raw and bleeding profusely. The skin had been burnt away and the stench was sickening. The only explanation had to be that the stone had burnt him severely. Wayne glance at the stone and saw a tiny wisp of smoke rise from it and dissipate. Chills shot through him when he realized that the mysterious stone had saved his life, and that was certainly no figment of his imagination.

“Help me!” yelled the assailant as lay in a fetal position, rocking and reeling in pain.

Wayne saw that he now had the advantage. He thought quickly and said…

“Here, give me your good hand.”

Wayne lifted him to his knees in what appeared to be a gesture of kindness. Then he swiftly yanked the arm behind the assailant’s back in a tight arm lock. The assailant groaned and cursed. Wayne grabbed a fistful of hair and turned the man in the direction of the phone. Then he pushed him toward it.

“I’m in pain, God damn it!” yelled the stranger.

“A religious person shouldn’t take God’s name in vain. Shut up, jerk!”

“Fuck you, queer.”

“Queer? So that’s what this is about.” said Wayne as he picked up the receiver and dialed nine-one-one. “Hello. I’m holding down a man who tried to kill me. Hurry!”

Wayne gave the directions and apartment number, then hung up.

“Can’t you see I’m in pain?” said the stranger. “Let me up so I can go to the bathroom and hold my hand under cold water.”

“The police can do that if they choose. They’ll be here soon. I think I know who you are. You beat a young Gay guy to death and stabbed another to death, didn’t you. And your name is Turk Underwood.”

“No!”

“The police will find out, so why lie?”

“They were fagots, and God hates fagots. They deserved to die.”

“What happened to the bible’s words, ‘thou shalt not kill’?”

“God works his wonders through me.”

“You’re a sick man, Turk. Maybe God did work his wonders through the stone you tried to kill me with.”

Turk suddenly grew quiet and ceased to struggle. He stared at his burnt raw palm and began to weep.

Someone knocked.

“The door is unlocked! Come in!” Wayne yelled.

The door flew open, crashing against a floor lamp that fell to the floor. Wayne found himself staring down the barrels of two pistols.

“He’s the killer, not me!” Wayne said anxiously. “I live here, and I called the police.”

“Put your hands over your head and get off of him,” said the tall officer. “Frank, get his billfold and check his ID.”

“I’m Wayne Phillips. My name is on the mailbox in the lobby.”

“He’s telling the truth, Vern,” said Frank. Then Vern looked at Turk, who was still on the floor and crying. “Holy shit! What happened to your hand?” he said to Turk. “Get up and put your hands behind your back. You’re under arrest. We’ll take you to the hospital and get that hand taken care of, then you’ll await trial behind bars.”

After handcuffing Turk, he removed Turk’s billfold and opened it.

“Frank, his name is Turk Underwood. Sounds familiar.”

“Turk Underwood!” said Frank. “I’ve heard of him. He’s a preacher with a record of attacking homosexuals in the next county north. Are you…uh, Gay, Wayne?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Interesting. You’ll testify, of course.”

“You can count on it. He practically confessed to two recent killings of Gay men in this city.”

“You son-of-a-bitch…I did not!” yelled Turk.

“Shut up and walk ahead of us,” said Vern.

“Thanks, officers,” Wayne said, and closed the door behind them.

He leaned back against it and closed his eyes and heaved a deep breath. It was over, but Wayne was still shaken. He saw the stone on the floor. A bit of blood stained the carpet under it. He didn’t want Mark to see it and start asking questions, so he walked swiftly to the kitchen and wetted several paper towels and began scrubbing the blood. It was stubborn, but eventually came clean. A few seconds after he disposed of the wet towels there was a knock at the door. He rushed to the door, but didn’t open it.

“Who is it?” he asked with far more caution than usual.

“Mark. Let me in.”

With haste, Wayne opened the door wide. Mark entered, and Wayne slammed the door shut. Wayne instantly embraced Mark and held him tightly. Mark felt a tremor in Wayne’s chest.

“Honey? Are you crying?” he asked.

Wayne sobbed. “I’m just glad you’re here.”

“Then be happy, sweetheart. Don’t cry.”

“I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. Would you like a drink to celebrate?”

“Sure. But I’d rather make love.”

“Not now. Maybe after a couple of drinks.”

“You’re not just crying because you’re glad I’m here, are you? Something has really upset you. What is it?”

“It’s…, it’s personal. I don’t want to discuss it. Go to my bedroom and pull back the covers and get naked while I mix the drinks. I want you to stay here each night until we get you moved in. I don‘t want to be alone.”

“You can count on it. After work tomorrow I’ll bring over most of my clothes. Please mix the drinks so we can relax and have sex.”

After wonderfully gratifying sex, Wayne held Mark tightly in his arms, and vowed to himself to never tell Mark anything about the actions of the mysterious stone, and he would hide it behind his books in his library. He decided that if his brother asked about the stone, he would lie and tell him that he had taken his advice and thrown it in the dumpster behind the neighborhood grocery store. But one thing he was certain about; he would keep the strange gift that had saved his life for as long as he lived.