The Godly Murderer

 

            Noah's back and head simultaneously slammed into the wall immediately inducing double vision as he saw two versions of his father glaring down upon him, only to watch him turn away and strike his mother, a blow so fierce that blood spurted from her mouth as she hit the floor. It was at that moment that Noah vowed to become the violent monster his father was, but only to stop his father and protect his mother. Too many broken bones and concussions stirred within him a commitment to become something great and powerful, someone feared and respected but only feared by those who deserved punishment and control.

              Evening arrived as Noah stayed in any room unoccupied by his father, his head still not quite right with a fierce, stabbing pain at the base of his neck, fearful of further damage from the always unexpected violence of his father's massive fist. He curled into a ball under his thin blanket, struggling to sleep as he listened to more blows from his father upon his mother, followed by the all-too-common cries for mercy. Eventually everything fell silent, and Noah waited for his father to drink himself into a stupor, giving him the opportunity to flee but at the same time feeling horrible for abandoning his mother.

              His destination was perfectly familiar to him as he passed by it every day on his way to school, the bus ride too dangerous due to additional beatings from the older kids, so he walked the mile and a half, timing his departure to align with the arrival of the bus and no one knew the difference. A series of abandoned homes resided in the exact center of his path from home to school, with one in particular having a certain appeal to him, the windows, mysteriously unbroken and the grounds lacking any garbage, seemed safer than the others.

              He slipped into the hallway, wearing three layers of clothing, and carrying a small bag with his few possessions, to see his father unconscious on the urine-stained couch against the wall opposite the front door. He stepped cautiously, having memorized the exact places to walk without generating any creaks, to slowly open the front door and close it just as slowly, again avoiding all sound. The knot in his stomach for the life that lay ahead for himself and the terrors of a life for his mother, unaware of his location or personal safety, made him feel ill but he had no other choice if he were to survive, to grow, and to one day rescue his mother.

              The presumably abandoned house was dry, relatively warm, and rodent free, and much to his surprise, somewhat furnished, providing somewhere to sleep other than the floor, as well as having running water and heat, though slightly lower than he would have like but also slightly warmer than his own home. The alarm on his watch woke him, feeling refreshed and more rested than he ever had, the typical tension always present in his neck was beautifully absent. The food he had scavenged from the lunchroom garbage can the day before provided a sufficient breakfast of apples and granola bars. Afterwards he stood in a warm shower, the first he could remember in a long time.

              Two weeks into his solitude, Noah began staying late after school to watch football practice, taking notes, getting ideas, and formulating a plan to somewhat emulate their routine, an effort to build his strength, his stamina, and his agility. With vastly improved sleep, three decent meals, and a lack of beatings each day, he poured himself into creating a new, powerful, thoughtful version of himself, the knowledge and examples from the football team, access to the internet at the local library and the freedom to exercise at any given moment created an ever changing story each time he looked into the mirror.

              His exceptional height previously presenting him as a bean pole, now with stunningly increased muscle mass began to bring him respect and fear in the hallways at school, with the usual school bullies avoiding him, avoiding eye contact and a level of respect that he had never imagined. But it was the girls that surprised him the most, flocking to him in a way that communicated he was being noticed and desired, even from those in the upper grades, the temptation was great, but he restrained himself, knowing that attention such as this would distract him from his ultimate goal.

              His second year of high school continued on and with the arrival of winter sports, he took advantage of free access to the wrestling matches, again taking notes and memorizing their techniques, irritated by the rules and the artificial setting, he eventually began a relationship with the head coach, looking for something like wresting but something more natural and freeform. He learned of something called grappling and searched the internet for anywhere nearby that he could visit and observe.

               As the school year drew close to an end, he knew that the free food he had been gleaning from school would no longer be available, thus necessitating the need for employment to generate income. Three days before school ended, he saw a now hiring sign in the local grocery store. His size and remarkable strength afforded him a massive advantage over nearly every other human being, and he proved himself by demonstrating that strength to the store manager.

              After wo weeks of working in the grocery store, at the end of his shift, he carried the six bags of garbage to the dumpster out back and rolled the dumpster into place to be picked up early the next morning by the garbage collection service. As he turned to re-enter the store, he heard an emphatic whistle. "Young man, that was mighty impressive," he heard someone say from a darkened corner. "If you're interested, I can pay you four times what this store is paying you." The man emerged from the darkness and held out a card with an address on it, offering it to Noah. "Come see us," he said, "our business can certainly use a young man with strength like that. This is your only chance."

              Noah stood the next afternoon with his heart in his throat, listening to the same man from the alley offer him a thousand dollars a week to act as a bodyguard and enforcer for his boss. He stood with his back to the door through which he had just entered to hear a very deep male voice, exclaim, "Wow, Tyrone, you did say this kid was big but wow, your description does not do him justice." Turning around, he introduced himself to a very well dressed and clearly very wealthy businessman, offering his hand, he looked down on the man, easily a foot shorter than him.

              "Nice to meet you, Noah," the man said. "I hope that Tyrone has convinced you to join our organization. I have to say that I would feel very safe having you with me and from what I hear you really know how to handle yourself with anyone or anyone's, I should say."

              "Yes, sir," Noah answered. "I have very big goals to accomplish, and I think we can help one another out. Yes, I can handle anyone, and I have never been defeated. I overpowered four men at once, just a month ago and they were trained fighters."

              Four years had passed since Noah began his new line of work and in that time he ascended to the role of head guard with more kills than all the other guards combined. "I don't mean to kill anyone," he said. "I just punch really hard, and I guess it's too much for them to handle." The other man, half his size and with half his intelligence merely grunted.

              "There's not much going on this weekend," he said, "can I trust you to keep things together? I have an errand I need to run, someone I need to visit and motivate. I'll be back on Monday." At nearly seven feet tall, he lowered his head to pass through the doorway to the front step. He slid into the front seat of the black Suburban and began the ten-minute drive to his parent's home, parking down the block and just out of sight. Thankful for the lack of rain, he jogged across the street, rounded the corner, and knocked on the front door, knowing exactly what he would find.

              The door opened to a haggard, foul-smelling middle-aged man in a stained t-shirt, his pants unzipped and wet down the front. "Whataya want?" he belched, rubbing his forearm across his nose, looking up at the massive human standing on his front step. He staggered forward and tried to take a swing at Noah, completely missing his target, losing his balance, and falling onto the front walkway. Noah left him where he landed, walked into the house, and closed the door behind him.

              "Mom?" he called out, "Mom, are you here?"

              The small, frail woman who slightly resembled the mother he once knew hobbled in from the hallway with one eye swollen shut. "Noah? Is that you?" she cried, "you've grown up, you've gotten so big. Where's your father?"

              "He stumbled out the door and is lying on the sidewalk," he answered. "I've come to rescue you, to take you away from this hell he's created. I've got plenty of money and everything will be good from now on. I can take care of you, like you would have liked to taken care of me. Come on, my car is out front. You don't need to bring anything because I can buy everything you need. But put a coat on, it's quite cold out."

              The unusual couple exited the house, the massive man with his arm around the frail woman, weaving past the pathetic fallen figure on the sidewalk, Noah taking the opportunity to stomp on the fallen man's hand with a sickening crunch and a kick to the teeth. The drive home was filled with long explanations, apologies, and words of thanks from both of them. The wrought iron gate slid open as Noah ascended the driveway, stopping at the front door, to hurry out and help his mother inside.

              "Welcome home, Mom," he said. "I'll make you some dinner and you can get a good night sleep. I'll have one of the servants go shopping in the morning for anything you want. Money is not an issue. Neither one of us will ever have to see that man again. Its my turn to take care of you now that I'm retired."

              With a quizzical look, his mother embraced him, and he did all he could not to break down for all of her grief and suffering, gently returning her embrace, he then led her to her room, to return to the kitchen. He finished preparing the pre thawed chicken breasts with rice just as she returned from her shower in a plush robe, seeming more relaxed and content than he had ever seen her. "Good timing, Mom," he said, "dinner is ready."

              Their meal together progressed just as he had imagined, he could sense her struggling with a myriad of emotions, but he was afraid of revealing the source of his income, knowing her disapproval would be severe. "Whenever you get tired and need to rest, please do so, I have a meeting later this evening, but you'll be perfectly safe here as the house is protected by a security company and everything is bulletproof. I won't be gone for too long."

              Just past midnight, Noah left his bosses personal residence, somewhat shaken by his negative response to his pronouncement of retirement. He had hoped that his appeal to caring for his mother would be seen as commendable, but such was not the case. When he pulled out of his driveway, he saw a set of headlights begin to follow him and he feared the worst, knowing that a hit squad would be the most likely outcome, so he drove across most of the city, switching back and forth, avoiding his own neighborhood, eventually losing them and returning home.

              The next several days were spent at home, with regular visits from Noah's personal assistant, returning from shopping excursions for his mother's needs and desires, Noah smiling more than he had for several years with this new opportunity to restore his mother to a place of joy and safety. It was on the evening of the fifth day that an enormous explosion ripped him from his sleep, immediately bolting to his security station he could see three former co-workers at his front door, fully armed. Thankful for the extra strength doors and windows he installed at construction, their use of C4 had no impact on he and his mother's security.

              His mother appeared at the door of the security room looking confused and concerned. "Mom, we're okay," he said. "No one can get into the house and the security company and police will be here in the next two minutes. We're safe." They stood together at the security panel, watching the three men outside being removed by the police.

              "Is this going to keep happening?" she asked. "It seems that someone doesn't like the idea of you retiring."

              "Yes, you're right," he said. "My former boss is concerned that I know too much and will reveal what I know to the authorities but that is not something I'm interested in doing, because you and I have a new life now. I've been thinking that maybe we should move to a different city on the other side of the country. I have another house in Montana under a different name, so we'll be perfectly safe there. We'll need to move fast though because I guarantee that those three will be released very soon."

              Three phone calls and six hours later, Noah and his mother were on a flight to the west coast, each with only a single carry on and passports. "How did that happen so quickly, Noah?" she asked. "What about your house and cars and all of your things? And my things?"

              "It's all taken care of," he said. "My lawyer will manage all of those details. Everything will be sold and anything we need can be bought in Montana. The house is fully furnished and safe, like the last one. You and I are the only ones who know where we are, even my lawyer doesn't know. It's not like we're on the run, think of it instead that we're different people, as you saw on our passports, we have new names."

(Inspired by the life of St. Moses the Ethiopian)