Perilous Repast

A shaky hand goes up to Judy Waller's temples. She massages her temples meditatively as a tear falls down and joins the pool in her glass. The half masticated remains of lunch sit baking in the sun. The sun is shining impossibly bright on her as she sits at the table in the chic Cafe Twila.

Sidewalk Cafe, Miami Beach

Courtesy of Wikipedia Commons

Her hand darts down to her glass. She raises to her trembling lips and takes a small swig of water. She returns the glass to the table and gazes out over the railing separating her from the bustling street beyond.

Judy contemplates the information she just received as the chairman of the Senate Intelligence Committee. You see, the president had just taken office 4 months prior and had inherited a mess in the middle east. Judy smiles sarcastically to herself as she looks down at her watch. A mess indeed. When was it not a mess?

Judy pulls her purse up to her and clings to it like a life raft in the ocean. She fishes through it and pulls out a billfold. She extracts several bills and drops them on the check that was sitting silently on the table.

She stands up with too much force and almost falls backward. She regains her balance and drops her billfold back into her purse. She slings the purse over her shoulder and moves out onto the street.

She looks up at the glaring sun as she enters the heavy traffic of the sidewalk. It was times like these she wished that she could just burn up in the heat of the day. All cares and worries evaporated like so much spilt milk on the sidewalk.

Suddenly a crack exposed her Vera Wang knock offs as substandard. The 5 inch heel slips off to the side sending Judy plummeting directly into traffic. She hits the road hard, her hands scraped and bleeding. She lifts herself up slowly and sees a city bus barreling down the street toward her.

Travel Coventry

Courtesy Wikipedia Commons

Everything slowed down to a crawl. The bus’s shrill horn bellowed out of the siren. Judy was frozen like a deer caught in headlights. Curiously she could feel a drop of blood running swiftly down the side of her cheek from a gash in her forehead. A slow scream of fright was escaping her throat involuntarily.

A hand wraps itself around her midsection. A sharp pressure lifted her out of the way of the bus and threw her back on the sidewalk. She landed splayed out on the concrete. People walking around her oblivious to the events that had unfolded. The man in the dark trench coat reached out a gloved hand, the fingers breaking through the fabric.

Judy took his hand and he helped her back up onto her feet. “Thank you! Thank you so much, Mr...”

“Jessup. Mr. Jessup.”

“I owe you my life.”

“It was nothing. Just saw that you were in need.”

The senator beamed back at him. “It’s people like you... Could I buy you lunch or something?”

An strong arm covered in a suit wrapped itself around her in familiarity. A strong voice resounded within the group. “Ally, we really must be going.” Judy’s face freezes at the sound of the name. She quickly tries to cover and smiles broadly.

“Right Lawrence, of course. I apologize Mr. Jessup, I have a meeting I must get to.”

“It’s all right ma’am. I hope you have a wonderful day!”

Lawrence is maneuvering Judy around and leading her away. She calls over her shoulder, “I hope you do too.”

Safely away Lawrence speaks into his cuff link, “Dove is returning to coup.”

“Why did you use the code name? What’s going on?”

“He had an AK under his coat, ma’am.”

Girl with AK47

Courtesy of Wikipedia Commons

“That sweet man that just saved me?”

“Yes, ma’am, he--” Lawrence’s point is cut off by punctuated gunfire. Judy turns in shock to see Jessup spraying death into the cafe she was just eating at.

Lawrence forces her head down as he continues to lead her away.

“Keep down, ma’am.”

“I don’t understand!”

“You were the target. We just received word of the threat; why I came to reclaim you."

"He's not Syrian!"

"It was in response to the strike you proposed to the President on the terrorists in Oregon, ma’am.”

“Oh my god!”

“He must not have seen a picture of you; known what you looked like. Count yourself lucky ma’am. Lets get you back to the office.”

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

This work is a derivative of the story “The Fawn and the Little Tiger”. After reading it I was struck by the multiple times we can encounter someone who is seen to be a friend and turns out to be our greatest enemy. Much like the song Passive by A Perfect Circle declares, “I’m sure of your ability to become my perfect enemy.”

People’s passions about different things are affected by their perceptions. I perceive the taking over of federal buildings by a criminal group making demands as a criminal act of terrorism. However the mainstream media decides to label them as freedom fighters. If these folks had been any other race other than white or any other religion other than christian, the response would have been a lot different. However because of their race and religion we give them a pass.

In my story, I equate the group as terrorist taking on a more traditional terrorism role of attacking a cafe. I also use a red herring of the senator contemplating the strike she had ordered in Syria which also draws a parallel to their actions.

In the source story the fawn and the tiger become friends and help each other out until it comes time to feed. The fawn goes to find food for the tiger cub when the tiger cannot eat grass. The fawn is told by it’s mother that it was lucky to escape since the tiger’s food was the fawn.

I feel that this type of story resonates with the acts of terrorism on multiple levels but because of the non action against the group in Oregon they are still “friends.” When they decide to “feed” by committing an act that endangers other whites, we will know what type of food they need.

Indian Fables by Ramaswami Raju. Website: “The Fawn and the Little Tiger”.