Jeremiah wandered the campus, stopping at the library at half past seven. Enough time to read a book and get his mind off the afternoon before heading to Victoria’s. A chill ran through his chest. His legs felt weak, like he had spent a few hours on the treadmill and hadn’t recovered yet.
Two guys, grad students by the piles of books in front of them and the fact that they were studying on a Friday evening, chatted in a familiar but uncommon accent.
“Northern transplants,” he thought. “I wonder how they got their waiver.”
They paused their conversation as Jeremiah passed their table and watched him head towards the computer center. Only when he hit the wooden walkway in the middle of the library did they resume, adding to the mystery of their presence at the university. Jeremiah still considered the northerners his countrymen, his brothers, even though nobody else he knew felt the same.
The north had followed their own path, deciding for political, religious, and economic reasons to split from the Atlantic States and the south. Eventually, the United States re-absorbed the northern and eastern states they had lost with the exception of Maryland, Virginia, Delaware, and parts of West Virginia. Washington remained the capital of the Atlantic States. The southern states made an economic pact with the Chinese after their collapse a couple decades back and remained little more than vassals of the regime.
An empty table offered Jeremiah a place to unwind. He browsed the section closest to the table and returned with a title that looked promising. He tried to get comfortable, but his mind continued to race with thoughts collected over the past week. Pages turned without comprehension. Letters danced around and formed nonsensical phrases. Midway through the second chapter, he closed the book. His attention turned to initials carved into the edge of the table. J.M. and K.B. The next twenty minutes were spent guessing the identities. Tiring of the game, he returned the book and stepped along the wooden walkway.
The library doors swung open, and he immediately regretted not wearing his heavy sweatshirt. The cold enveloped him and penetrated the light jacket which had sufficed during the day. He blew into his hands and shrugged his shoulders into a protective ball as though either of those acts could warm him. The wind intensified in defiance.
“I might as well head over to Victoria’s,” he said. “It’s closer than my dorm.”
His feet carried him down the sidewalk. Warm mist exited his mouth and congealed in midair. He hunched forward into the wind, which impeded his progress and blocked out all noise except for the loud rush against his ears.
Even though it would take longer, Jeremiah turned behind the science building. The large L-shaped structure would protect him from the worst of the gusts until he hit the quad. A short dash across the open field and he would land on the doorstep to Victoria’s dorm. One more rehearsal of already well-rehearsed conversation starters distracted him as he made his way down the darkened alley. He turned towards a scratching noise coming from behind him an instant before a hard object smashed against the side of his head.
A burning sensation traveled to the base of his skull. He stumbled to one knee and reached to the side of his face. His hand felt warm, wet. A dark stain colored the fingers. Sounds, words, were jumbled as though they passed through a thick blanket. The tone was distinctly angry. That was the only thing he was sure of.
He steadied himself against a chain link fence and tried to rise to his feet. Another blow landed across his shoulder, and he fell to the ground. A wooden board clattered next to his head.
“Let’s go.”
Jeremiah lay in the dirt beside a discarded plastic bottle. A low, pained moan echoed beside him. It took him a moment to realize it came from his own mouth.
“I’m not finished with him yet.” The words came out slurred.
“He learned his lesson.”
A curse word slipped out, and the footsteps began to shuffle off.
“C’mon, man.”
“This piece of crap can go to hell.”
The footsteps returned. A pain screamed though Jeremiah’s entire body as the tip of a boot dug into his ribcage. Instinctively, he curled into a ball and hugged his knees to his chest. A few more blows fell on the back of his legs.
“Dude, you’re gonna kill him.”
“He should’ve thought of that before he began mouthing off.”
“He’s not worth the trouble.”
The pair of feet remained behind Jeremiah. He could feel the guy’s eyes burning down on him.
“Look at the skinny, little coward. He can talk big when he has a bunch of people around, but when he’s on his own, he’s nothing but a gutless runt.”
Despite the pain, Jeremiah’s head started to clear. The words were definitely slurred. The voice recognizable.
“Why don’t you get up and say those things again to my face? Or are you too much of a coward to do it when you don’t have your buddies around?”
Jeremiah lay still and hoped his attacker would move on.
“Damn it, JB. Let’s go.”
The wooden board rose from the ground.
“Don’t.”
The pause seemed to last forever. Finally, the board dropped back to the earth and settled against the fence. A wad of spit landed on Jeremiah’s brow.
“Where’s your God now?”
Jeremiah remained silent.
“Hey, boy. I asked you a question. Where’s your God now?”
“JB.”
“This sack of dirt should have the courtesy to answer my question.”
The guy reached down and lifted Jeremiah’s collar. Their faces rested inches from each other. Stale fumes as well as a sickly, sweet tang spilled from his mouth.
“Well, boy. You gonna answer my question or not?” The New York accent grew stronger.
“I …,” Jeremiah tried to get out.
A slap landed on his cheek.
“Spit it out, boy.”
Another slap, this time harder. The sting reverberated down the alley.
“C’mon tough guy. Answer my question.”
The slaps rained down on him, each one followed by a groan. Still, he didn’t respond. The beating stopped a moment before his legs lifted into the air on their own. With one hand, the guy pressed Jeremiah into the chain link fence. The free hand hung by his face.
“You gonna turn me in, dirtbag? You gonna run to your momma and let her know you got your butt whipped by a wild donkey?”
A fist landed in Jeremiah’s stomach. He tried to double over, but the arm held him firmly in place. The next fist hit the exact same spot. Jeremiah tasted the acid as it hit his throat.
“Please,” Jeremiah managed to say.
His plea only spurred the attacker on. He lost count of the number of times the fist dug into his stomach and ribs and jaw. The world seemed a blur. Stars spun above him. He wondered how he could still be conscious, still be alive. If God had really promised to save him.
The arm fell away from his chest, and he collapsed onto the edge of the pavement. The commotion above him was nothing more than an angry buzz. Shouts and curses, banging, rattling, and scraping. The night exploding in a display of hatred.
Jeremiah lay on his side, struggling to catch his breath, to remain awake. The last thing he remembered before he drifted into unconsciousness was a shadow approaching him.
“You alright?”
Someone tapped his cheek.
“Jeremiah. You alright?”
He tried to force his eyes open. Dim moonlight silhouetted a large pair of shoulders. Both the injuries and the darkness asphyxiated him, pressing deep into his lungs. His voice came out in a wheeze, a long, drawn-out sputter which, if not for the severity of the situation, would have added a comical note.
“It’s OK. Don’t try to talk. Can you sit up?” A hand reached under his armpit and lifted him to a sitting position. The light from a phone flashed in his face. “Man. They did a number on you. Hold this.”
The light moved slightly farther away. Jeremiah blinked in an effort to adjust to the change in brightness.
“Is this good?” came a second voice, not as low as the first one, but masculine nonetheless.
“Yeah. Right there. Keep it on him.”
Two thumbs pressed below his eyelids.
“Does this hurt?”
Jeremiah winced.
“I guess that answers my question. Where else does it hurt?”
He pointed to his stomach and ribs. “Here,” he managed to get out. His hands made small circles around his body. “Everywhere.” He coughed. Red droplets spattered into his palm.
“Did they take anything?”
Jeremiah shook his head.
“It looks like we got here just in time.”
Jeremiah shook his head again.
“OK. A little late, I suppose.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Jeremiah said, each word a hammer pounding on his ribcage.
“What do you mean?”
“They weren’t robbing me.”
“What then?”
Jeremiah’s eyes rolled around. His head spun and fell backwards.
“Andrew. Give me a hand. We gotta get him to a hospital.”
“I’m OK,” Jeremiah said. “Just get me to my dorm.”
“I think you really need to see a doctor.”
“Please, just take me to my dorm.”
“Sure thing, pal. Andrew, you got his other side? On three. One, two, three.”
Jeremiah’s body swung into the air. His head flopped onto his chest. He placed one foot down, then the other. The first few paces buckled his knees, a green sailor in a stormy sea. A few more and his legs steadied themselves beneath him. Not enough to prevent the dizziness from returning his dinner.
Ben Ahikam chuckled. “Drunken bar fight, huh? You don’t strike me as the type.”
Jeremiah ignored the comment as the dirt greeted the last of the hamburger. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. A marching band pounded the inside of his forehead.
“You got it all out?” Ben asked.
Jeremiah nodded. “Thanks.”
“No worries. Now, where’s your dorm?”
“Graham Hall.”
“The far side of the quad. I know where it is. You need me to hold on, or are you going to be OK?”
“I’ll be fine. Stay close, though, if you would.”
The three headed around the edge of the science building, passing under a pair of streetlamps which cast the trees in a pale, yellow light. Each step hurt more than the one before it. Determined not to look pathetic in front of the star linebacker, he walked as straight and tall as he could, a losing battle. Illuminated windows watched like rectangular eyes from the dorms above. Jeremiah lifted his head towards the fourth floor. He wondered if Victoria would see him but hoped she wouldn’t.
“There you go, big guy.” It didn’t sound condescending when Ben said it.
Jeremiah rested on the two-seater under the window. He could only manage shallow breaths, enough to sustain him but not enough to satisfy.
“Seriously, you need to see someone.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“At the very least, I’m sending someone to look after you. You got a friend I can call?”
Jeremiah had a short list. None who would come look after him, especially on short notice. Except one. He dug a shallow grave for the remnants of his pride.
“Victoria Robbins. Do you know her?”
“Yeah,” Ben said. “She’s a friend of Andrew’s.”
Andrew confirmed. “I grew up with her. Known her since sixth grade. You want me to get her?”
Ben nodded. Andrew pulled out his phone. Ben indicated the door with his head and said, “Why don’t you go get her and bring her back. Make sure she gets here safely.”
“Sure thing.”
Silence covered the room. Jeremiah grew self-conscious of the wheezing and did his best to soften it. Ben made himself at home, rummaging through the mini fridge at the foot of the bed. A bottle of water and a packet of crackers found room in his stomach.
“What happened out there?” Ben asked as he wiped a few crumbs which clung to the stubble on his chin.
Jeremiah let out an unintentional grunt. “Someone took issue to something I said.”
Ben twisted his lips to the side. “You have a funny way about you.” He paused. “I like that. But seriously, what happened? Did you say something about his girl? Did you insult his haircut? What?”
“I called him a horny donkey who prostitutes himself to anyone and anything.”
Ben laughed. “I never heard that one before. That’s pretty … let’s say, creative.”
“Funny thing.” Jeremiah coughed twice before restarting. “I wasn’t referring to him specifically. I was talking to all of them. And to be honest, those weren’t my words. They were given to me.”
“How so?”
Jeremiah didn’t answer and Ben didn’t press him.
“I guess I would’ve been a bit annoyed if someone had said that to me,” Ben said partially to himself. “That doesn’t justify what he did. Three of them. Big guys. Cornering you behind Science. If Andrew and I hadn’t shown up at that moment, I’m not sure what they would’ve done. Good thing we did, huh? We weren’t even going that way, but I left my wallet at the apartment. Had to make a return trip to get it. Then, Andrew drops this cup he was drinking, and the wind takes it down the alley. I told him to leave it, but he’s one of those environmental types, not the overzealous kind, but the kind that feels guilty if he doesn’t clean up. Off we go chasing this Styrofoam cup down the alley and we heard the commotion. Next thing, we found you in a bit of a situation. Crazy coincidence.”
Jeremiah waited for the story to finish, hoping for a little more explanation of how they had managed to stop the beatdown. When he asked, Ben shrugged it off.
“Both Andrew and I used to wrestle. He still does. National champion in high school, I believe.”
That was it.
Ben’s phone lit up.
“That was Andrew,” he said, reading the text. “He and Victoria are on their way. If you don’t mind, I’m going to meet them downstairs.”
“Yeah. Sure.” Jeremiah smiled. He felt as though he could read Ben’s heart. He was a good man. “Thank you. For everything.”
“You bet.”
The door clicked shut. Jeremiah shifted in his seat causing fire to shoot down his nerves. Anger, self-pity, something loosed his tongue.
“Why did you send me to them? Did any of them listen? What good came of it? Nothing good came, only evil. You know me, Lord. You know my innermost thoughts. I can’t hide from you or pretend I am righteous in your sight. Yet you know I follow you with all my heart. I listened to you when you told me to speak. Instead of paying attention to your words, they beat me until I couldn’t take anymore. Didn’t you say you would keep me safe?”
If the world hates you, know that it has hated me before it hated you. If you were of the world, the world would love you as its own; but because you are not of the world, but I chose you out of the world, therefore the world hates you. Remember the word that I said to you: ‘A servant is not greater than his master.’ If they persecuted me, they will also persecute you. If they kept my word, they will also keep yours. But all these things they will do to you on account of my name, because they do not know him who sent me.
“I heard them when they said, ‘Let us destroy him before his words take root and bear fruit. Let us cut him off from the land of the living, so his name will be remembered no more.’ Please, Lord, I can’t bear this weight. You, who judge righteously, let me see your vengeance on them. I commit my cause to you.”
If you have raced with men on foot and they have worn you out, how can you compete with horses? If you stumble in safe country, how will you manage when I send you into the lion’s den? Your close friends, your family, even they will betray you. They will cry out against you. Do not trust them though they speak well of you.
“Who am I to trust? How can I bear up under this?”
I am the one who sustains you. They will deliver you up to persecution, to imprisonment, to put you to death. But I am the one who sustains you. I will deliver you from their evil so that you shall not see death until the appointed time.
The room became still. Jeremiah bowed his head and wept.