Brother Thomas

        Scott sat at the desk.  Lamp light streamed across a mass of
papers.  His hands moved over the smooth faces of the pages, on
which were scrawled countless numbers and symbols. Voices moved
through the brick walls of the dorm room as he tried to
concentrate.  Someone downstairs was shouting cries of joy at
the Monday Night Football game.  Other cheers followed, and
Scott could hear the muffled sound of the crowds, thousands of
miles away, projected through the television speaker.  He looked
beyond the white rays, and his eyes could pick out the brighter
stars of the night sky.  Airport marker lamps dotted the
horizon, and a line of headlights crawled through the void in a
straight line.  There was lot of traffic on route 30.
        He turned to an open book sitting at the corner of the desk. 
The symbols there bored him as well.  Flickering through the
pages, he thought of what he had learned over the past weeks. 
He thought of the work he and his roommate had accomplished
together, and the feeling of loneliness strengthened.  Rolling
back on his chair, he stood up and opened the door.  The sounds
of stereos and conversations flooded the room as he stepped
outside.
        Scott climbed to the second floor.
        "Who should I visit?"
        He thought of Blanca.  He had pledged a five dollar donation to
her favorite charity, and he had yet to pay.  Soon he stood
before the entrance to Room 209.  Hearing no sound from within,
he knocked softly.  Feet padded across carpet, and the door
suddenly swung open.  Blanca stood in the doorway, her hair
about her shoulders.
        "Hi.  I think I owe you some money."
        She slowly shook her head.  "What do you mean, Scotty?"  Her
Latin accent fascinated him.  "Well, come in!"  She moved back
from the door, and he stepped inside.
        "Don't you remember?  I pledged five bucks for  --"
        "Oh, that's right."  She smiled and sat down at her desk. 
Rummaging through a drawer, she produced a sheet covered with
names and addresses.  "Are you sure you won't pledge any more?"
        He shifted his weight onto one foot.  "Well, maybe next time."
        Blanca grinned as Scott reached deep into a pocket and removed
a crinkled bill.  He held it out to her, and her hand
momentarily touched his. She found his name on the sheet and
placed a small check mark next to it with a pen.
        "So, Scotty, how's life?"  She placed the cap onto the pen with
much importance and stowed it within a drawer.
        "Pretty good.  Yesterday I was buried in work."
        "I don't want to keep you from anything.  If you --"
        "That's okay.  I worked like a maniac and got it finished.  I
was just working on a calc assignment, when I suddenly
remembered, hey, I have to pay up on a debt!"
        Scott sat down on the floor and faced Blanca.
        "What have you been up to lately?"
        "My bio."  She moved her head back and forth jerkily.  "Two
tests this week, three the next.  I'm goin' crazy, Scotty!  Tell
me what to do!  You must know, with your grades the way they
are.  You still have your 4.0, and you're a senior, right?"
        Scott looked to the floor.  In the silence, he heard the drapes
part.  The breeze felt good.  Looking up, he was infected with
her smile.
        "I guess I'm a study machine, Blanca.  Perhaps I should've said
that I'm a basket weaving major with a 1.2 average."
        "That's silly, Scotty.  Here."
        She opened a drawer and produced a photograph.  "You never saw
a picture of my dad, back in Panama."
        He took the picture.
        A look of shock overcame his face.  He tried to suppress it, as
he realized that she was probably watching him closely.  In the
picture, a native Mayan was paddling through a swamp in a canoe.
 He wore a bizarre collection of jewelry, and several fish lay
at his feet.  Scott became aware of the laughter she was trying
to conceal.  He looked at her wonderingly, and she laughed
uncontrollably.  She extended her open hand towards him and
attempted to speak through her hysteria.
        "I'm sorry, Scotty.  I shouldn't have taken advantage of you
like that."
        "That's all right, you maniac.  Besides, a hundred says your
dad is a well dressed businessman."
        "That's a photo I've had since I was a little girl.  I've
always admired him."
        She stood and waited for him to reciprocate.  They faced each
other.
        "Are you hungry?"
        "Sure, studying always does that to me."
        "Good, then you can share an orange with me."
        She opened a small refrigerator.
        "It might be a little frozen, Scotty.  Is that okay?"
        "No problem."
        She removed the fruit and picked up a knife lying on the
refrigerator.
        "Have a seat.  I'm sorry I made you sit on the floor before."
        "Well, I was beginning to wonder.  Make this fruit your peace
offering."
        She peeled it with the help of the knife and broke the fruit in
half.  Scott ate his half in one bite.
        "Mmm.  Almost as good as crunchberries."
        "Do you really eat that junk?  It's not very good for you."
        "Captain Crunch is my favorite.  I substituted for my roommate
in the school senate once, and the only motion I made was to ask
for a return of the berries to the breakfast cereal bin."
        "But it's all sugar!"
        "Ya' only live once!  Other than calculus, physics, beer, and
berries, what the hell is my life worth anyway?"
        "I used to talk that way to my brother."
        "How old is he?"
        "Your age.  He told me I would grow out of it.  But, you see,
Scotty, he was listening too much to the plastic people."
        "Plastic people?  You mean his toy soldiers?"
        "He doesn't play with those anymore.  But he did go to a
military academy, here in the states.  Wait a minute.  You must
know that somehow.  You asked about toy soldiers."
        "All right, so I saw him in uniform.  You know, that picture of
him on your desk."
        "Plastic people, Scotty.  It's an illness that everyone suffers
from.  Well, almost everyone."
        "Are you a plastic person, Blanca?"
        "Spare me!"  She glared at him half seriously, but the
expression on her beautiful face melted, as did Scott's heart.
        "When I play games with people, that's just what I'm doing."
        "I know Scotty.  You're not plastic"
        "What am I then?  Metal?  Wooden?"
        He chuckled at her skeptical look.
        "Intelligence is a silly concept.  So I get good grades.  You
might say that I'm so much smarter than someone with C's typed
on a stupid piece of paper.  But it's silly.  I'm just good at
playing with symbols.  I scratch down these silly little Greek
and English symbols onto paper with graphite rods in a way that
my profs like, so they call me intelligent.  Isn't an ape
intelligent?  How about a dog?  What I mean is, we define
intelligence as some quantifiable reality that we alone possess,
and it's bullshit.
        "Besides, any difference in my math ability is minor at best
when compared with other students.  We just magnify those small
differences because they seem so damn important to us.  Really! 
Compare my math ability to that of a monkey.  Now to anyone at
this school.  The margin of difference is astronomical in the
first case when compared to the second."
        Scott stopped.  Blanca was staring directly into his eyes, her
face blank.  He cupped his hands over his mouth.
        "I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to preach."
        "That's all right, Scotty.  It's important to you.  But don't
you think what you do is worth it?"
        "I'm not sure."  He stared out the window.  Turning to her, her
face seemed to glow in the dim light.
        "Tell me one thing."  Scott leaned forward and continued in a
softer voice.  "Have you ever thought of ending it all?"
        Her eyes closed halfway.  "Sometimes.  Once I tried to tell my
brother. I told him that it hurt so bad, but he told me to just
grow up and go to sleep."
        "Why do you think he said that?"
        "Maybe he went through the same thing.  He wouldn't blow me off
like that, I mean, with something..."
        "How do you feel about it now?"
        "Oh, don't worry about me!  I'm just as chipper as can be!" 
She jumped and ran speedily across the floor.
        There was a knock at the door.  She walked quietly to the door
and stood in front of the doorknob.
        "Who is it?"
        "I am a friend.  I must speak with you... now!"
        As she unlatched the door, she felt very cold.  A man
confronted her.  He was short and clothed in an expensive
looking suit.
        "Who are you?"
        "My name is unimportant, but you must let me inside to discuss
an urgent matter."
        Blanca moved away from the door and allowed the stranger
inside.  The man closed the door behind himself.  Reaching into
his pocket, he removed a small triangle of metal.  His breathing
was labored, and sweat ran down his forehead.  Scott stood
motionless, and he crossed his arms as coldness seeped through
him.  A frozen hand moved over his body and probed through his
clothes.  It rested for a moment over his heart.  Scott shrank
back at the sensation, and the hand moved, sliding smoothly over
his shoulder and down his back.
        Blanca felt a breath pass over her neck.  The exhalation
tingled.  A raspy whisper reached her ear as the breath passed,
and she snapped her head to the side, unable to determine the
source of the voice.
        The stranger opened his eyes wide while holding the triangle
next to his cheek.  His eyes were so dark.  They appeared pure
black.  Blanca reached for the main light switch, but the
stranger's voice interrupted her.
        "If you choose to accept the task, someone may live who will
otherwise die.  But you must first stop that which threatens
him."
        "All right, what the hell is all this about?" Scott asked.
        The stranger stood unflinching as Scott moved forward.  He
stared into the dark eyes, now lightless ovals, only inches away
from his own.
        "I can get the RA if you don't stop this bullshit and explain
what you want."
        The cold breath moved across Blanca's face.  She trembled as
the stranger continued.
        "If you don't help, the walls will run red.  The howl of this
wretched soul will forever haunt you, as you will have failed to
prevent the horrible deed."
        "Who are you talking about?"
        "You know!  Why do you resist?  I have come to both of you,
imploring you to help.  Why are you so cold, just like the
others?"
        Blanca frowned.  "We don't know what do.  It looks so far like
you're the one who needs help.  Tell us what's going on.  Why
all the riddles?"
        "He is someone very close to you now.  He has found that nobody
cares about him, and I have come, asking that you show him that
somebody really does care.  That you care!"
        "Who is it?  You seem to know so god awful much about his
problems.  It's you, right?" Scott asked.
        "You must help him!"  He fell forward onto Blanca as he gasped
for air, his skin cold and clammy on Blanca's arms.  Scott
jumped forward and pushed him back forcefully.  Blanca tried to
hold Scott's hands.  As they joined confusedly, the stranger
tore at the doorknob.
        The door smacked his forehead as he tried to exit.  He stumbled
around the door and slammed it shut.  They stood there,
listening to the vanishing sound of his footsteps.  They were
speechless for at least a minute.  Then, a resounding thud
rattled the walls.  A glass on Blanca's desk jumped a fraction
of an inch, followed soon by muffled screams.  They charged into
the hall.  Students were emerging from their rooms, their mouths
hanging half open.  Others appeared from within the TV lounge.
        "What the hell was that?"
        The students moved toward the stairwell.  Scott and Blanca led
the group to the door.  Scott opened it, and the screaming and
shouting grew much louder.  A security officer was bounding up
the stairs as he listened to orders being barked through his
radio.  The officer stopped in front of Scott.
        "No one downstairs!"  He began pushing Scott backwards.  The
students behind Scott also moved back.
        "What happened?" someone asked.  Blanca moved forward to
confront the officer.
        "What's going on?  Are we safe staying here?"  Other students
voiced approval at her question.
        "You're safe.  Don't worry, the damage is done."
        On the floor below them, police were streaming into a shower
room.  On the floor, a motionless corpse lay in a sticky pool of
blood.  The man was dressed in a suit, his eyes covered with
dark sunglass lenses. His abdomen was blown open, and his inner
organs and blood dripped from the tile walls.  A modified
shotgun was lying next to the body, and the onlookers could
smell burnt gunpowder.  A priest was standing next to the police
chief, a handkerchief over his mouth.
        "My God, it's Brother Thomas!"
        The priest crossed himself.
        "Didn't anybody see this coming, Father?"
        The old priest stood speechless.  In the distance, an airplane
touched down upon a runway.