The Wrath of Angels

25

 

 

Adiv and Yonathan trudged south through the wilds of the Jersey Pine Barrens. They had been driven for what seemed like hours over rough terrain before eventually being dumped in the woods. The man named Angel had suggested to them the direction in which they should walk if they wanted to get to Winslow or Hammonton, but they had not been sure whether to trust him and, to tell the truth, Angel had seemed a little vague about the directions to begin with.

 

‘I don’t like nature,’ he told them, as they stood under his gun, birds calling above their heads. ‘Too many trees. And garter snakes, and bobcats, and bears.’

 

‘Bears?’ asked Adiv.

 

‘And garter snakes, and bobcats,’ said Angel. ‘Don’t get too hung up on the bears.’

 

‘Why?’

 

‘Because they’re more scared of you than you are of them.’

 

‘Really?’ said Yonathan.

 

‘Really,’ confirmed Angel. He thought for a second. ‘Or maybe that’s spiders. Well, happy trails.’

 

The doors closed, and Adiv and Yonathan were abandoned in a spray of dirt and mud and twigs. Now it was growing darker, but at least they had found a road, even if there were no vehicles upon it and they could not yet see any signs of artificial light.

 

‘I thought they were going to kill us,’ said Adiv.

 

‘Perhaps you’ll be more polite in future,’ said Yonathan.

 

‘Perhaps,’ admitted Adiv. ‘And perhaps you won’t go pointing guns at the wrong people.’

 

They walked on. All was quiet.

 

‘We’re bound to find a store or a gas station soon,’ said Adiv.

 

Yonathan wasn’t so sure. It seemed like they’d driven far into the wilderness, and it had taken them a while simply to find something that was more than a trail. He just wanted to be out of the woods before night fell in earnest. He hoped that the rabbi was okay. It was one thing to be personally and professionally embarrassed as they had been, but if anything were to happen to the rabbi . . .

 

‘At least they left us with some quarters for the phone,’ he said.

 

Adiv checked his pocket, and came out with the four coins. He clutched them tightly in his fist, kissed the back of his hand, then opened it again. He stopped and examined them more closely, squinting in the poor light.

 

‘What is it?’ said Yonathan.

 

‘Sonofabitch,’ said Adiv quietly.

 

He dropped the coins into Yonathan’s hand before switching loudly to Hebrew. ‘Ben zona! Ya chatichat chara! Ata zevel sheba’olam!’ He shook his fist in the general direction of the southeast, then slapped the back of his right hand hard against his left palm.

 

Yonathan pushed the coins around with the tip of a finger.

 

‘Canadian quarters,’ he said. ‘The bastard.’