The Simple Truth

Rufus didnt open his eyes, and he didnt say anything. Fiske watched as his lips moved slightly. Finally, Rufus opened his eyes and looked up at him.

What were you doing?

Praying.

Oh.

How about you?

How about me, what?

Have you prayed over your brother yet?

Rufus, I havent been to Mass since high school.

Rufus gripped Fiskes sleeve and pulled him down next to him. Then its time you started up again.

His face suddenly pale, Fiske looked at the grave site. Come on, Rufus, this isnt fu

Nothing fu

I dont remember any prayers.

Then dont pray. Just talk, plain words.

What exactly am I supposed to say?

Rufus had already closed his eyes and didnt answer. Fiske looked around to see if anyone was watching. Then he turned back, looked over at Rufus, awkwardly put his hands together and, embarrassed, finally let them dangle at his sides. At first he didnt even close his eyes, but then they just seemed to do so on their own. He felt the moisture from the ground soak through his pants legs, but he didnt move. He felt the comforting presence of Rufus next to him. He didnt know if he could have remained here without it. He focused on all that had happened. He thought of his mother and his father. The insurance money had given Gladys Fiske her first trip to the beauty parlor in years, and some new clothes to admire herself in. To her he was still Mike, but at least she remembered one of them. Ed Fiske would soon be driving a new Ford pickup, the loan on the house paid off. He and his father were pla

Oh God, he said with an outward breath. He couldnt do this. He felt his body start to give on him. The tears suddenly poured with such force he thought his nose was bleeding. He started to go down, but a strong hand grasped him, easily held him up; Fiskes body felt light, fragile, as though he had left part of it somewhere else. Through the blur of tears he looked at Rufus. The man had one hand under Fiskes arm, thrusting him up. Yet his eyes were still closed, his head looking to the sky; the lips still rising and falling in the narrowest of ranges as he continued his prayers. Right then John Fiske envied Rufus Harms, a man who had lost his own brother, a man who really had nothing. And yet in the most important way, Rufus Harms was the richest man on earth. How could anyone believe in anything that much? Without doubt, without debate, without an agenda, with all his substantial heart? As Fiske looked at the calm face of his friend next to him, he thought how very fine it must be to know for certain that your loved one is in a better place, embraced and held for all time by the phenomenon of unassailable good. So comforting a notion at the precise time you needed to feel it. How often did such timing occur in life? Death as joyous. Death as the begi

The somber group of men sat in a large room that rested far below ground, and was accessed by only a single elevator. The chamber had been secretly built during the Cold War under the guise of renovating the World War IIera private building that squatted over it. The original plan of course was to use this super bunker as a refuge during a nuclear attack. It wasnt for the top leaders of American government; the president, vice president and others in the upper chain of command would be long removed from Washington, D.C., in the event of nuclear war. This chamber was for lower-tier leaders whose level of relative unimportance dictated that they probably wouldnt be able to get out in time, but who still rated protection afforded no ordinary citizen. Politically, even in the context of total destruction, there must be order. It was a hopeful if naive time when people believed it both possible to survive a direct hit of that kind by burrowing into the earth inside a steel cocoon and desirable to survive the holocaust that would a