Folding Clothes Read online

  Folding Clothes

  A three-part serial novel

  By Josh Hess

  Folding Clothes copyright @ 2015 Josh Hess

  All Rights Reserved

  Chapter 1

  “Thank you everyone. I wanted to come out tonight and say a few words about the Privatization of Education Act bill that is coming up for a vote this September. The PE bill we have so vigorously exercised in our theatre of the absurd. There seems to be a lot of misinformation surrounding this vote and I wanted to clear a couple of things up…so basically here it is…..”

  President Obama was his usual composed intellectual self, keeping his obvious deep emotionality in check. Now, when Obama talked about gun control after Newtown, we all felt something. If you didn’t, you’re a liar. It was his finest accomplishment as a politician, either showing his powerful emotions or keeping them in check.

  “Remember, if you like your teacher, you can keep your teacher.”

  Chapter 2

  Carlton Kennetty ran into an old friend from his hometown at the anti-war rally. Along with a few thousand other people, they were walking across the bridge away from the Lincoln Memorial, pushed together by the crowd from front and behind and by heavily armed officers of the law on either side. At one point a police cruiser almost took off Carlton’s leg as the officer’s unit encouraged the protestors out of the street and onto the sidewalk.

  “Erin?”

  “Carlton!”

  They caught up on old times as the protest raged around them. She said she had kids and was married. Carlton congratulated her warmly but felt a little sad that this would be it for this one now. Pro-war supporters screamed “Traitors!” in their faces as they walked the gauntlet with the other bussed in masses from up and down the east coast. It was the most fun Carlton had had in a while.

  These rabid pro-war guys were inches from his face and screaming dutifully. It was a bit more than he expected but he liked the feeling too. Adrenaline was in the air and Carlton was almost sure they were going to attack. Finally, the sheer mass of the crowd and its momentum pushed them apart and the protestors ended up at a stage in a grassy field.

  Chapter 3

  The drive in from outside the beltway was smooth for Tom Snoop until he reached the turnoff near Dulles. A small group of ragtag looking protesters were out holding signs that read “Shame on Dulles: Unfair wages and conditions.”

  He steadily made his way around them and continued up the parkway to where he worked. He parked in his assigned spot. Making sure everything was in order, he knew his every move was watched, he gathered up his briefcase and headed into the cube. That’s what everyone called the big black glass box where they worked. Of course he could neither confirm nor deny this to anyone he met, but that was the life he had chose.

  “Hi Sharon, good morning,” and with a swipe he was through. He took the elevator up to 4th floor and set his briefcase down at his desk. After typing in his authentication code, he typed in a name he had never typed in before: Carlton Kennetty.

  Query: Carlton Kennetty

  E-mail: [email protected]

  Phone: 575-295-0248

  Searching……

  And yes, there it was, he was in. Browsing history looked fairly uneventful with plenty of liberal tendencies. No crime there, at least not yet! he thought to himself deliciously. Occasionally, porn downloads too. Situational stuff: Office dicks, college girls anxious to get an A from that cute professor and secretaries who like to be spanked.

  E-mails were more interesting: It looked like he had a new job lined up out west. A lot of trash in there but the program knew how to sift through it. It was really a miracle the way it worked: Just type in keyword searches and the program did the rest. Words, phrases, codes, context, the program did it all.

  Text messages were a gold mine. Evidence of criminal activity was pretty easy to find if you knew how to decipher code. As long as you had that evidence, everything else could be justified. In this case the activity was small, almost infinitesimal, but criminal all the same. Here are some examples:

  Text message 8/16, KennettyC to DannyB: “You got any Christmas trees this time of year?”

  DunnyB: “It’s Christmas all year long! How much do you need?”

  KennettyC: “How about 50 worth?”

  DunnyB: “Sure thing partner. It’s medical too. I’ve got a legit connect on the inside now, haha. You’ll like it. Christmas come early! Text me later.”

  Chapter 4

  Nearby, in Washington D.C., a lobbyist was calling Dustin Fields by his childhood nickname again.

  “Look, Dusty, I know you’re a principled man and that’s why I’m here. If you think about it like I do for just a minute I think you’ll discover a new perspective.”

  He hated that. This scum sucking D.C. lobbyist, in his expensive suit and blue tie, was sitting around and calling him Dusty like they were back on the farm or like he was his best friend. Shit, I ought to slap that funny looking suit and tie right off of his funny face, he thought to himself as he wondered where the waiter was.

  When the waiter came by he ordered a steak, rare, an extra side and a Long Island Iced Tea. “Easy on the ice!,” he reminded, as the waiter trundled off. The clink of silverware could be heard from where they were comfortably ensconced in a booth near the corner.

  “We think Dusty, with your vote, we can make private education possible throughout our great nation. Finally, students will have a choice in where and how they get their education and you will be a part of making it all possible.”

  Senator Dustin Fields had worked long hours in the corn patches of the central Midwest, getting paid under the table only because he was the only white guy amongst the group of Mexican day laborer pickers. He’d run heavy machinery and his hands knew serious hard work judging from their still sizeable and powerful grip. And now some pipsqueeck lobbyist, in his squeaky clean shoes, was here calling him Dusty. His steak couldn’t arrive too soon.

  Chapter 5

  Private Benjamin Hayes awoke anxiously to the sound of a bark in the night.

  “Woof! Woof, woof, woof.”

  He could feel the sweat on his brow and he took in breath in quick successive sucking motions. Rubbing his hand through his hair he stared into the dark room. Wind was pulsing at his curtains and he felt a bit of relief at the feeling of it upon his face. A police siren could be heard urgently off somewhere in the night.

  He’d been dreaming of that night in the desert again. Things were in a state of confusion and Private Jones was pleading with him for help. It didn’t make any sense, Benjamin couldn’t understand why Jones was so insistent or what he, private Benjamin Jones, could do to help.

  Finally, after sitting up awhile on the edge of his cheap mattress, he was able to drop off and morning came in a minute. The tempting wonderful warmth was a cruel mistress and he swung his legs underneath his large frame and lumbered up to start the day, bleary eyed and moving slow. No time for anything fancy on his way out the door, but he should probably eat less anyway.

  Chapter 6

  Tom clicked off. He had bigger fish to fry. He clicked back to search.

  Query: Hamid Arcangawi

  E-mail: [email protected]

  Searching…..

  …and yes, here were his e-mails. One particular one had caught his eye.

  Hamid: Do you have the products we talked about at the mosque?

  OverseasKamil: Yes, everything is in order as Allah has willed it.

  Hamid: Praise Allah! I will make the one who is most high very proud when I am able to carry out this mission. Did you send it Fed Ex or UPS?

  OverseasKamil: Fed Ex of course. Overnight delivery is very cheap. It should be there by tomorrow god willing, prais
e Allah!

  Hamid: I will look for it. After this I will be out of communication until Allah himself reveals my work.

  OverseasKamil: Praise Allah! We will be watching.

  Tom typed in a memo: Urgent attention needed.

  He then coded it appropriately and headed down to the basement.

  The package had been intercepted and Tom wanted to have a look. The bomb squad was there and they carefully opened it up. Tom watched from behind the glass. The team gave him the “all clear” signal and Tom walked out for a look. It was some sort of electrical chip, no bigger than his thumbnail. It had been bubble wrapped.

  Tom took the bubble wrap in his hands and popped it a couple times.

  “I love this stuff,” he remarked to the tech.

  Chapter 6

  Mr. Kennetty stood, and proceeded into his task. The task today was the next idea. How was he going to get there? The students looked back blankly, a mix of can’t be bothered to care and something somewhat identifiable as interest. He took a breath, and his time, the grim realities of obnoxious official observations passed, he was free to be himself.

  They read as a class, he summoned responses and clarified a few key themes. The students could feel the summer around the corner and worked more diligently than normal on their assignments. He was pleased as students had a bit more of a pulse than usual today.

  “What do you believe Odysseus’ men’s greatest character flaw is?”

  A brown haired Hispanic girl looked up. “They’re dicks.”

  “Be more specific.”

  She rolled her eyes at the class. “Well, you know, Odysseus tells them what to do then they do whatever they want. They’re dicks.”

  Mr. Kennetty smiled. “Can anyone else think of a more suitable adjective for what Sheila is describing? I think she is on the right track but let’s try and find a better word.”

  A hand at the back of the class went up. Cesar was a model student but very quiet as he didn’t want to be found out.

  “Cesar?”

  “They’re distracted easily.”

  Mr. Kennetty was pleased. “Yes, they are easily distracted. Very good. What is the term that parents use when they’re child doesn’t listen and is distracted?”

  Nicole, from the back: “They disobey.”

  “Follow that thought up. What is their punishment for disobedience?”

  Sheila again, “Well, they all die don’t they?”

  Chapter 7

  His lady’s car had broken down again. This time it looked like for good. The timing belt had gone and it was an interference engine. It was going to require a valve job and some engine rebuilding: 2000 bucks. Civilian pay, which wasn’t much less than combat pay, wasn’t enough to cover his expenses much less this unexpected one.

  Private Benjamin could feel the heat rising in the back of his neck and remembered what the psychologist had told him: “With each breath count in 5 seconds and count 5 seconds on the release. Do this ten times whenever you feel the sensation coming on.”

  He could remember her Jewish mother inflections as she said it. Benjamin did as he had been told, dutifully drawing in long breaths and counting to five as he exhaled. Surprisingly, after ten repetitions, he felt a little calmer. Now if he could only find the money for this bill he thought as pulled back into traffic.

  Chapter 8

  Tom had been an eagle scout in upstate New York. He’d loved going to the summer camp at Ten Mile River, camp Kunetah. He’d done archery and rock climbing and camp skills. He could still remembered the silly chants sung in unison at 7 a.m. sharp, assembled into rows by the scoutmaster and after the raising of the flag:

  “I’m alive, awake, alert, enthusiastic.”

  He loved going down to the lake to go fishing or swimming. He loved it but wished he’d been able to get away more, from the regular activities and just enjoy more of the camp at his own leisure. So he decided to come back as a camp counselor during the summers. He knew everyone and everyone knew him.

  After 9/11 Tom had decided to get more involved. He stopped doing the summer camp and devoted more time to his work. He couldn’t believe an attack like this had flown under the radar, his radar.

  Chapter 9

  “Cocksuckers!”

  The lobbyist looked at him funny and then laughed professionally.

  “Yeah, you bet. The next thing they’ll want is a free lunch right?” The lobbyist chuckled again.

  “Right! Which reminds me…you got this right?” Dusty picked up his napkin, wiped his face and dropped it in the booth as he lumbered to his feet.

  “Oh yeah, of course. Can we meet again soon on this issue?”

  “Call my office,” said the Senator and with a look he was gone.

  Glad to be rid of that cocksucker, Dusty lit up a smoke and walked down to his car where his driver sat inside on his cell phone. Dragging on his smoke he watched the people hustling too and fro. Poor suckers, he thought to himself.

  Chapter 10

  Worries here are different from worries there private Benjamin thought privately to himself while stuck in traffic. Over there worries are real and in your face, while here it’s mostly financial worries and trivial matters. After worrying about the next IED, worrying about your car payment is a real psychic letdown. The trivial nature of peoples’ lives and worries got on his nerves something fierce. Take this one guy he’d met at the bar. This asshole couldn’t stop talking about whether he was going to get his unused extra sick days paid as he quit his 80k a year job, asshole.

  Chapter 11

  I-95 divided in motion and Tom took his usual turn-off. Two car lengths behind him a gray sedan made a similar move. Tom continued smoothly to the turn off to the A and W, braked and turned into the parking lot.

  The lady at the drive through gave him back incorrect change. As he pulled back out in traffic he buckled his seatbelt and took a bite of burger. Tom noticed a parked grey sedan parked in a crowded parking lot and took a drink from his soda.

  He loved this area of D.C., just a bit south and west, out Chantilly way. The roads ran like rolling hills and there were colonial mansions among the parks and nature trails. Tom pulled in at one of these parks within the city and parked. He knew there was a lake down the hill and after getting out and putting on a blue ballcap, sauntered down toward the lake.

  For the first 10 minutes he just walked, but quickly, setting a brisk pace through the pine and maple forest, over tree roots and down gentle inclines only to come up again. Briskly he walked around the loop, opening out into a sunny spot that gave him a look across the lake, and from there he walked up to a little sunny hill where there was a bench. He sat down and waited.

 

 

  Josh Hess, Folding Clothes

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