Chapter 8

Trying to put something directly into the hands of a hacker was a kin to grabbing a greased pig, in a rainstorm, blindfolded; near impossible and no fun at all.

Two days ago the Vatican envoy had shown up unannounced at St. Michael's. "It is imperative that this be delivered to Mr. Simon Lewis Farron as soon as possible" the imposing envoy said to Father Deke Crane.

Father Crane was an enigma, being ordained after completing his studies at the University of St Thomas in Houston he had assumed the church would find him a place to minister in Texas and he would live out his life there. Such was not the case.

Deke was one of 8 children, raised on a cattle ranch outside of Fort Worth his childhood was spent wrangling cattle, staying out of the way of his older siblings and harassing his younger ones as was only right.

Inside Deke always felt ... separate from those he shared this life with. Many a night he would fall asleep on top of the little hill behind the ranch house after spending hours simply contemplating the wonder and vastness of the universe that played out above him in the clear Texas sky.

While his brothers and sisters pursued the normal hormonally driven activities of teenagers everywhere Deke became more and more introverted, with questions swirling in his head about the meaning of life, the depth of faith and the bridge between the two.

He would later recall his epiphany with a hearty laugh. One day while trying to round up a stray calf his horse was spooked by a rattlesnake, Deke lost control and fell, being knocked unconscious and bitten by the snake in the process.

Everyone has there own versions of death, the tunnel, the white light, a host of angles and pearly gates, or the hounds of hell having a particular interest in your entrails. Deke had none of these, his own near death, hell, his reach out and pat death on the shoulder experience was one of simple ... peace. While within this space of peace and comfort Deke realized that he was not alone.

"Hello, is someone there" Deke was surprised by the soft tenor of his voice given the fact that he had meant to yell out the call.

"I am here, the question is where exactly here is" the response from a definitely female voice startled him, he could not gauge the direction it had come from as the landscape was basically covered in a soft warm gray fog.

"Am I dead" Deke asked, remembering the snake and the fall from the horse the; only rational thought was he was now deceased.

"Energy can not be destroyed, only changed, since death goes hand and hand with destruction by your definition the answer is most certainly ... no" the disembodied voice was lyrical in its pitch and tenor, the effect on Deke was one of simple ... acceptance.

"Where do we go next" Deke felt more than heard her laugh after asking this question.

"That my friend, as all things are, is your choice. Stay, go forward, go back, whichever feels the most right to you is where you will find yourself" the voice said and seemed to fade, just as his acknowledgment of his surroundings did the same.

The bright light was what finally caused Deke to open his eyes. He could see clouds out the window, feel the bed he was laying on, and the throbbing in his head. "Oh man ... I came back" he said with groan.

Deke spent many years trying to interpret his brush with the great beyond, in the end he did not have and could not find a frame of reference for it. He understood that he wished to do good, to help people through the journey that is life. His path lead him to the church, and that path lead him to a small congregation in New York City which he tended with an open hand, open ears and most importantly an open heart.

"Find him Father, deliver this too him as quickly as you can" the envoy had said just before he left for the airport. Deke sighed and pulled on his raincoat a sarcastic "thy will be done" escaping his lips as he headed out to complete his task.

It was another rainy night and Deke was on the last page of the "known hangouts" for Mr. Farron.

The unimposing three-story brownstone in a quiet neighborhood of lower Manhattan was about as far away from where Father Crane had supposed he would find Mr. Farron.

For the past 48 hours the good father had traveled through some of the roughest and oddest places he had ever been.

From internet café's and backroom computer stores to unassuming bars and hastily thrown together rave parties in abandoned warehouse the search for Mr. Farron had led him on a merry chase.

The name Farron got him nowhere, looking through the file provided by the envoy he found an alias, Cryptic. Starting to ask with this name brought far more than the non-committal shrugs of those he asked. More often than not it produced a pronounced palling of whomever he was talking with and their hasty retreat from his proximity.

Now standing in front of the final door on his list there was a bit of trepidation in Deke's consciousness, unsure as to just what the Vatican had gotten him into his cold wet finger pressed the doorbell.

The doorbell startled him. 'Damnit' he thought, making his way down the corridor to the front door, he had seen the priest standing outside via one of the numerous video cameras tied into the security system that watched over what had finally become something akin to a home.

'Kind of late to try and save my soul' he thought wryly as he looked at the small LCD display by the door, appraising the man standing there waiting for his response. With a sigh Cryptic pushed the button.

"What can I do for you" the short clipped message surprised Deke making him jump a bit. "I am looking for a Mr. Farron, I was given this address" Deke said, trying to place the voice he heard, wondering why its tone surprised him so.

"Never heard of him, please leave" the strain in the response was un-missable.

'Farron, how did ... anyone ... know that name' Simon thought. Memories best kept buried threatened to resurface and engulf him as he watched the screen, trying to get a read on the priest.

"Mr. Farron" Deke said taking a chance "My name is Deke Crane, two days ago a Vatican envoy showed up on my doorstep with a file and a package, the file had information on you, the package was to be delivered only into your hands." Deke paused taking a breath. "Now, I have been accused of being ... tenacious, how about you let me in, I can give you what I must and then we can go from there" Deke finished looking expectantly at the door.

Simon reached for the hand pad and slowly placed his palm on the reader.

Deke heard the electronic locks disengage and the door swung slowly open. He couldn't say what he was expecting, only that Mr. Farron was as far from it as he could have gotten.

The young man sitting in the modern wheelchair looked to be no more than 16. "Mr. Farron?" Deke asked not sure that his guess had been correct.

"Please call me Cryptic" Simon said as he wheeled his chair around and headed back down the hall, not waiting for or inviting Deke to follow.

Walking down the center hallway following the young man, Deke was puzzled by this turn of events.

The brownstone was a stark modern affair on the inside. The hallway painted in dark browns lead to a large comfortable room that was actually a two story space decorated in a modern style with rich brown leather chairs and low glass tables. Everything was neat and tidy but there lacked anything ... homey, as if the place was designed for show rather than a place where people lived.

"You said you had something for me father" Simon asked, still not sure that the good father was not another do gooder trying to help the poor crippled orphan.

Deke sat in one of the overstuffed leather chairs across from where Mr. Farron had stopped his chair. "Yes, a Vatican envoy provided me with some background on how to find you and made it clear that I was to place this" motioning to the package in his lap "only into your hands" Deke said still curious about the young man across from him.

Simon's hand moved to his face, fingers rubbing his eyes he still wasn't sure about the man.

"Where are your parents son?" Deke asked tentatively, seeing the young mans shoulders slump he thought he had made a mistake.

Wheeling himself over to the small desk beside the fireplace Simon opened the drawer and pulled out a card, moving over to Deke he handed it to him.

"This is my attorney, please call him, he can verify that I am an emancipated minor, I have a small trust fund that provides for my needs, now please leave" Simon moved off towards the kitchen dismissing Deke in the process.

Deke looked at the card in his hand, shaking his head he rose and walked after Simon.

"I don't need to speak with your attorney, I was simply ... curious, I apologize" Deke said as he held out the Vatican parcel to the young man.

Simon looked up at the man in front of him, he didn't seem like a bad guy, sighing he took the package from the man's hand.

"I'm, sorry. It can be difficult being on your own and a cripple at 16, I find that most people fall into two categories, those that think they know what's best for me, or those who want to use me, I tend to jump to conclusions about people rather quickly, would you like something to drink and I'll tell you a bit about me? Simon offered as he laid the parcel in his lap and moved towards the refrigerator.

Back in the living room, Deke with a bottle of water, listened to the young mans tale.

Simon shifted in his wheel chair, looking over at the smiling seemingly kind hearted Priest he sighed, thinking it was probably time he shared the tale with someone, why not a priest on this rainy night, god knows his attorneys had been bugging him to talk with someone for years.

Taking a deep breath Simon began.

"My earliest memories are of pain" Simon closed his eyes as the memories and images that he had so religiously kept buried flashed to center stage in his mind with a power and energy that belied their age and distance from the now.

The smell of antiseptic stung his nose, 'where am I, what happened.' And then the pain hit him like wave, electrifying his senses to the point where they seemed they would fail then pulling back only to crash into him again. He wept openly the tears streaming down his face as the pain in his chest and arms threatened to steal his newfound consciousness.

"Give him some morphine" the voice said through the pain. Opening his eyes he saw a kindly looking man in a white coat talking with a very fat women in a white dress. The woman moved to a bag hanging next to the bed and injected something into it.

Almost immediately the pain withdrew, it did not vanish but dulled enough so that he could concentrate on something other than its insistent howl.

Looking around the room Simon realized he must be in a hospital, but why; he was riding in the car, the back seat, mom and dad upfront, talking, his mother looking back over her shoulder her blond hair falling across her face the easy smile offered so often, her hand on her fathers shoulder.

Then the bright lights coming through the windshield, his mother's head turning as if in slow motion, the smile dissolving into the outline of scream and then ... darkness.

The tears began anew, this time they were the wracking sobs that only great loss can produce, and with them came blessed oblivion.

The car accident had killed his parents instantly, it took rescue crews four hours to pry his broken form out of the wreckage. Fourteen hours on the operating table had saved his life, but the spinal cord injury was simply too massive, his legs would never work again.

The young parents never made a will, there was no family to speak of to take the boy in. Becoming a ward of the state at three years old was bad enough, doing so from a wheel chair was a challenge that most people would not have been able to overcome.

Over the next three years there were a series of operations to repair the damage from the accident to his body. His mind and emotional state went largely unaccounted for. Shifted from foster home to foster home Simon was hard to place, being in the wheelchair was the least of the problems.

A moody withdrawn preschooler was not high on anyone's list for placement, neither those looking for children or those trying to place them.

At six Simon was sent to live with Connie Bringers.

Connie was a high school science teacher, single but with a real affinity for children, especially children with issues.

"He hasn't been in the same place for more than 90 days in the last three years?" she asked incredulously to the Children's Affairs worker.

"No, Simon has multiple issues that have precluded a suitable placement" Sarah sighed as she took a sip of her tea before continuing. "You are kind of our last hope, if we can't get him placed we will need to move him to the state orphanage"

Connie looked at the 8 x 10 glossy of the small scared looking boy in the wheelchair, understanding instantly what she needed to do.

"When can he move in"

...

Connie was not like the other people he had stayed with. Upon arriving she had greeted him nicely, shaking his hand and showing him around the house.

"This will be your room" she said showing him the bright and airy room on the first floor at the back of the house. She placed his suitcase on the floor and left, saying over her shoulder to give a shout if he needed anything.

'Strange' he thought. Always in the past they had hovered around him trying to make sure he could reach everything, making sure he didn't get hurt or into trouble.

And so it went for the first few weeks, Connie left him to his own devices most of the time, if he needed anything he had to ask for it, she didn't baby or coddle him, she simply allowed him to be.

It was an interesting time for Simon, he had never been in an environment where he was required to be mostly self sufficient, it bothered him and at the same time it began to endear him to this new woman in his life.