On the road back to the glory - Part 43

The aircraft had dropped Boyer on the apartment roof. She followed the directions to the Father’s apartment that were sent to her device. She would never not be frightened at the ability of the Corridor to control access.

When she stood at Father Diez’s front door and touched the flat panel beside the it, her face was scanned and the door opened. Today the Corridor granted her access. Open Sesame.

But, what would tomorrow bring?

She couldn’t worry about that now. She had a clear assignment and she had to move quickly. A surprise visitor greeted her at the door. Its tail barely wagged, not for lack of enthusiasm, but for hunger. “You poor thing,” Boyer said and she crouched down to pet the dog. “He didn’t know he’d be away this long,” she said as she scratched it behind the ears. Sensing her kindness and concern, Duplo walked her toward the kitchen.

She slowed to take in the space. The sunken living room with its massive stone fireplace and view of the Rockies made her stop mid-step. The sun was setting over the peaks of the mountains, providing a breathtaking view. Beside it was one of the largest paintings Boyer had ever seen in a home, and one of the most simple, one line of orange on blue. “You gotta be kidding me,” she whispered. “What a waste of canvas.”

The dog whined and she rushed to follow him. When she stepped into the kitchen she was hit by a smell. There was a door that opened to the patio there, but it was locked. The dog had dutifully been using the foot rug at the door for its business and it was soaked through with urine and covered in excrement. She gagged at the smell.

She opened the door, grabbed the dishtowel hanging from the handle on the oven door and pulled the rug outside onto the patio.

The fresh mountain air swept into the kitchen. She pulled the rug as far from the door as she could and left the door open to recycle the air. “Let’s find you some food.” She filled the dog’s bowl with water and it started to lap it up like a warrior in Gideon’s army.

She opened and closed cupboard doors until she found the dog’s food, and added a single scoop of food to his bowl. “Let’s ease you into it, okay boy?” she said and patted his head. He drank the bowl dry, so she filled the bowl again.

She left the dog in the kitchen and looked for the Father’s study. She recognized it immediately, for she, like thousands of others in Corridor West, had seen his workout videos and homilies online. It was must-watch content. Abs and absolution. The people couldn’t get enough of it.

Such a strange combination of physical and spiritual sustenance for the so-called godless masses. If Boyer had more time with him, she would ask if it was his brain child, this combination of workout content and sermons, or if it was simply a mandated content quota he had to fulfil, something the fine-tuned, nearly omniscient algorithms of the Corridor had concocted based on its deep knowledge of the walled-in residents online behaviours and desires.

She looked at the room. It was surreal to see it from another perspective, like she was walking into a movie. He’s a real man with real things, who lives a life, she found herself thinking, surprised at the affection and awe she felt. “Okay, fangirl,” she said and stepped into the room.

She scanned the office space looking at the art and artifacts. He had a simple desk that sat almost centred in the room, positioned to give the best view of the mountains. There was a microphone and a camera mounted on swivel arms that were themselves attached to a tripod behind the desk.

She found the crucifix hanging from a statue. The face of the bust was covered with tiles. Around the shoulders hung the wooden cross. It was simple, elegant, the wood faded. She carefully removed it from the statue and put it around her own neck.

She had what she came for. It was time to leave, go back to the roof, and head east. But she realized there was something else in the apartment she couldn’t leave behind. Boyer walked back through the apartment toward the kitchen, walked along the long granite island.

She noticed an empty cereal box on its side in the middle of the island. She walked to the door and closed the patio. The bolt locked automatically when she did. She leaned down to the dog and scratched its ears. She found its collar under its loops of curly fur and turned over the bronze tag to read the beast’s name.

“Duplo,” she said out loud. The animal dropped its ears and started to wag its tail. “Well, I can’t leave you here all on your lonesome. Who knows when your master will return. You’re coming with me.”

***

The entire corridor was under the highest level of security alert, so the aircraft flew more and more erratically the closer it got to the Phos. The last time she made her way out to Maskwacis in a Corridor vehicle, all hell broke loose.

The aircraft changed altitudes every few seconds, weaving and bobbing as though it engaged in some sort of invisible obstacle course. If a long range missile or RPG had its sights trained on the Corridor vehicle, it’d have trouble taking it out or anticipating its flight path. The interior of the craft remained surprisingly stable, and as long as Boyer didn’t look at the ground below that rushed rapidly beneath her, her stomach stayed settled.

Duplo whined every time the aircraft shifted position, unless she had her hands placed firmly on the nervous animal, which meant, within a few moments of leaving the walls, the big dog was sitting on her lap covering her entire frame like a throw blanket.