Mojave

“Bless me father for I have sinned. It’s been a lifetime since my last confession.” “Tell me, my son”, the priest replied, “what are your sins?”

I began recounting that day, which is embedded in my brain, like a Cabernet stain seeped into a white rug.

“I was walking home from work, when I turned into an alley. I have never been down that alley before. In fact, I don’t know what compelled me to do so. All I recall is I was drawn to it; as if some mystic force led me into that alley. Nevertheless, I was on my way when I noticed something to my left. I saw a foot poking out of underneath some sheets of old cardboard. The foot was wearing a shiny black wing tip shoe. It wasn’t all black, it was two toned; you know, a white upper part and black lower part. Anyway, it seemed out of place, I thought, a foot wearing a shiny shoe isn’t generally worn by someone sleeping underneath cardboard boxes; not in this city, anyway.”

“I moved the cardboard aside and noticed a very nicely dressed man laying there. I did the ‘good Samaritan’ thing and checked for a pulse. The man was dead.

As I pulled out my phone to call 9-1-1, I noticed a small book right below his left hand. It was a small black book; a notebook, like those little notebooks we used in seminary. You remember those, father?”

“Yes I do, son”, he replied, “go on”.

“I picked up the book”, I continued, “it had a leather bound soft cover and looked like it had seen better days. The leather on the corners was worn down and the cover was creased in the middle. The book had an inscription embossed in silver on the front. It was a single word written in gold lettering; Mojave. That’s all it said.”

“I opened the book, and inside the cover, there was the name of a bank, a bank account number, and a phone number written in ink. The pages, for about a quarter of the book, were full of written dates with each date 2 to 3 months apart from the last, and a dollar amount, $20,000, next to each date. The last date was today’s date.”

“Suddenly, I heard a phone ring; it was coming from the dead man’s left pocket. The phone was poking out of his pocket, about and inch or so, and so I reached into his pocket and picked it up. It was an expensive phone, much better than any I could afford. Anyway, I noticed the call was coming from the phone number written inside the front cover of the book. Curiosity compelled me to answer the call. I pressed the 'accept' key and said nothing. After about 5 seconds, a voice on the other end suddenly began to speak.”

“What did the voice say?”, the priest asked.

“The voice said to me, ‘your fee of $20,000 will be wired to your bank account upon completion of the assignment, if you choose to accept it, Mojave.”

“‘Assignment?’, I asked, and the voice continued, ‘extermination’.”

“Extermination?”, asked the priest in a puzzled tone. “Yes, father. Extermination. The voice then gave me the name of a target marked for execution! I mean, ‘Mojave’ was supposed to kill this man!”

“What name did the voice give you?” The priest asked.

“Yours, father”, I replied.

“My name?”, the priest asked, his voice trembling with terror as he began to gasp for air. I replied, “bless me father, for I am about to sin. You see, I am Mojave now”.