Chapter 2
"Keep your eye on prize,
And your mind your goals,
And never fall behind."
-Dream Yourself Awake, by The Crüxshadows
Samuel Gardner, while not really expecting Jennifer to show up on Sunday, had kept true to his promise and, with the help of the parish, changed one of the store rooms into a bedroom. It was, therefore, a pleasant surprise for him when the young woman actually did arrive on Sunday.
"Ah, Miss Griffin, it is a pleasure to see you again," Samuel said early Sunday evening when Jennifer walked through the doors of the church. He'd been just about ready to leave when she arrived.
"Call me Jennifer," she laughed, "or Jen, or Jenny, but not Miss Griffin, it's too formal for my taste. So, Mr. Gardner, where's the room?"
"Right this way," Samuel answered, "I do hope that you'll forgive the lack of a shower in the church, but such things as this were never anticipated when this place was built," by this time, they'd arrived in the small but functional room which was to be Jennifer's for the time being, "but you'll find that there are otherwise adequate restroom facilities two doors to the right of this room. Is there anything else you'd like to know?"
"Um, yeah, what about food and TV?"
"For food, there's a kitchen right across the hall. And I am truly sorry, but we do not seem to have a television, there is however an old radio in the storeroom one door to the right if you'd like me to go get it for you."
"Nah, I'll get it later," Jennifer shrugged, "but thanks, Sam. It's been a long time since I've had a bed to sleep in. This'll be great, thanks."
"Samuel, if you would be so kind. I really don't like to be so informal."
"Oh, sorry, I just kinda talk like that, never much of one for formalities myself."
"Yes, so I've noticed. Well, if you need nothing else, I will be on my way."
She certainly seems well-natured enough, Samuel thought as he began his stroll home, I wonder how she ended up in such a dreadful position. I suppose I should ask her when next we meet, mayhap I should go there tomorrow. He let his mind wander for a moment as he took in the beauty of the autumn sunset. But such wonderings are for another day. I wonder what Becky's cooked for dinner...
It was shortly after he'd finished thinking that that Samuel Gardener arrived home. He fumbled about in his pocket for a moment, struggling to find his house keys. Still fruitless after what seemed an eternity o trying to locate his keys, he walked over to the gate into the backyard and swung it open. The sound of his steel-toed boots clanking against the cobblestone path that he'd put in last summer immediately set Ripper, his pet Doberman which had been named by his seven year old son, to barking up a storm.
"Relax, boy," he chuckled, "Nobody trying to break into the house. Just good old Samuel Gardner, minister of the Lord, owner of the house and now savior of the homeless."
"Is that you, Sam?" his wife, Rebecca, called from the kitchen window that overlooked the backyard.
"Yeah, I couldn't find my keys, so I had to come in through the backyard. Then Ripper decided that I was some kind of burglar."
"Well, come on in and wash up, supper's ready."
Jennifer Griffin laid back on her cot and pondered going into the storeroom to go get the radio. After all, she didn't have much better to do. It took her a moment to conquer her inner demons of laziness, but Jennifer managed to pull herself off of the bed and onto her feet.
"Okay," she muttered to herself, "storeroom was...um...one door to the right, I think..." she ventured out into the hallway, "why on earth would you ever build a church with all this extra stuff in it? I mean, it's like they were planning on turning this place into a mini-fortress."
She swung the door to the storeroom open and was amazed by the vast piles of junk that lay within. There was easily enough stuff stacked in the piles, resting on the shelves, and squirreled away in the cabinets to carpet a large house. One thing in particular that caught her was a shelf upon which rested a wooden stake and a hammer, both of which looked old enough that they'd crumble to dust if she so much as breathed on them, that is, if the weight of all the cobwebs that they were blanketed in didn't crush them first. I wonder what they ever thought they'd need that for, Jennifer thought, of course, I don't even know where I am. This could be a church that was built way back when people used to believe in vampires and such nonsense. After tearing her eyes away from the stake and hammer, Jennifer searched around for the radio, turning up various other oddities, such as a crumbling, leather bound copy of the bible with a few of the books of the Apocrypha, and a cross made of emerald. All in all, it probably took Jennifer about twenty minutes to find the radio.
"Ugh, this thing is heavy," she grunted as she lifted the large old thing up. It took quite a bit of effort for her to manage to shimmy the door open since both of her hands were in use carrying the archaic two-way transmission device. "wonder who would hear me if I used this thing to broadcast. Probably no one considering that radio's dead." At this point, Jennifer was in her room, and, inspired by her previous comment, was humming Video Killed the Radio Star as she plugged the radio into the empty wall socket.
Now that she was done with that, Jennifer Griffin took a moment to survey the contents of the room that she was staying in, not that she hadn't done so before, but she felt that she should take another look at it for some reason or another. There was a lamp in one corner, against the far wall was a bookshelf lined with books on more subjects than she could possibly imagine. Her bed rested alongside the left wall, directly across the room from where the radio was now stashed. In the middle, where she was standing now, was a small rug, oblong in shape with alternating rings of red and orange.
Jennifer knelt down and turned the radio on. The broadcaster was still going on about the murder that had happened early Friday morning, with various theories and such as to why a man who apparently had no enemies would be murdered so savagely. Then, she heard a scratching sound. She turned the volume up, but the scratching stayed soft. Jennifer got up and walked out of the room, following the sound to the front door.
She swung the door open and was greeted by the large, mangy dog that had followed her to the park on Friday. It had a piece of paper folded up in its mouth.
"What have you got there, boy?" she asked the dog, scratching it behind its ear, "come on, give me the paper." Then, the dog dropped the paper. Jennifer unfolded the note only to be horrified by what was written on the inside. It was the note that she'd found in her pocket when shed first awakened in this city. "Why did you bring this to me?" she asked the dog, thoughts of paranoid fantasy once more dancing around the inside of her head. The dog, of course, didn't answer. It stood still, panted, and wagged its tail.
"Well, c'mon, heel boy," she commanded, and the dog followed her to the back storeroom, "we can at least set you up a bed." Jennifer dug through piles upon piles of refuse, searching for something for the dog to sleep in, looking up only when the dog barked at her. It was pushing a ratty, faded teal doggy-bed toward her with its nose. "My, my, quite a talented pooch, aren't you?" With that, she picked the bed up, and placed it in her room, just a few inches left of center on the red and orange rug. "You can sleep here," she said, "at least I'll have someone to keep me company while this place is empty..."
