AFLOAT SEASON 2 E. 12

It is in your moments of decision that your destiny is shaped.

Tony Robbins

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“Maurice! Maurice I know you can hear me!” 

Eric was flanked by a handful of his ferocious looking squad who were dressed in their usual uniform of red and black in multiple designs. It was almost midnight and they were in front of a modern bungalow designed with bricks and surrounded by properly trimmed flowers and shrubs. The space around the house was illuminated by bright lights hanging from the walls of the house and he could see from the open slider windows that it was occupied. Some of his men headed for the backyard while the others took up positions at the sides. They were all wielding clubs and machetes.

Eric took in the compact building which had obviously been recently renovated judging from the odor of fresh paint and the glistening walls of the front porch. A frown creased his brow as he remembered how the vigilante was formed with Maurice by his side. Maurice was his trusted deputy and right hand man until he fell out of grace and he had to hunt him down for a crime he vehemently denied ever committing even after several people testified against him. 

 

“Maurice!” 

 

He called out again, this time louder. A dog barked in the distance and he knew the story of their presence would make the headlines of the village gossip by daybreak. One of his boys rushed forward to strike the locked burglar proof of the front door with a club. Just then the lights came on in the quiet house and low voices were heard followed by the sound of a door being unlocked. A figure he could not recognize briefly peered at them from behind the burglar proof before unlocking it and stepping out onto the front porch. It was Maurice, nude from waist up with his shirt hanging loosely on his left shoulder.  

 

“Eric! What is the meaning of this? Why are you disturbing us at this time of the night? You just scared my wife!” He bellowed as he moved to stand under the full glare of the fluorescent tubes lighting the porch.

 

The voice was still the same but the years had not been kind to the man; Eric thought while sadly taking in Maurice's slight limp. His protruding stomach was almost competing with that of his heavily pregnant wife who was lurking closely behind him. Shaking off the myriad of images from the past that were suddenly clouding his mind, Eric joined him on the porch and met Maurice’s steady inquiring gaze. He opened his mouth to respond when the glint of amusement Maurice tried to conceal behind his gaze made him pause. He would have missed it if not that he knew him like his soul. Without a shred of doubt he instantly knew that Maurice had been expecting them. 

The reality of the true nature of the man he grew up competing with stifled the frail sympathy he had felt for him as the thought that Maurice might be involved in the present complexity fanned his already mounting rage. Eric suddenly felt emotions he had tried to overcome over the years reawakening like dying embers being doused with gasoline. 

 

One thing Eric had learned was that hastily unleashing his anger always had a bizarre ending. But, like his father before him, patience was a virtue the gods of their ancestors had kept beyond his strong grasp, especially when his job and the people he respected were involved.

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