What Would Satan Do_ - Anthony Miller [64]
“Nothing,” said Cadmon.
“Good,” said the angel. The room flashed and shook, and Ezekiel disappeared without bothering with the whole arms-raising thing this time.
They sat in silence for almost a full minute. Whitford picked at his teeth absentmindedly. Cadmon caught up on some sighing he’d been meaning to do. Neither seemed to know what to say. But then Whitford snapped to attention, apparently having figured something out. He yanked open a drawer of his desk, and rummaged through papers, pens, and other office paraphernalia.
“Damnit,” he said.
He rummaged some more, and finally settled on a pen. He tore the cap off, tossing the pen itself aside, and wedged the pointy end of the pen cap in between two teeth.
He glanced up at Cadmon, his face contorted.
The preacher waited for him to say something, and tried not to let the revulsion he felt show on his face. “Well,” he said.
Whitford said nothing. He continued to pick at his teeth.
“Hello?” said Cadmon. But the Governor said nothing, so the preacher stood to leave.
Whitford grunted. “Okay,” he said, pulling the pen cap out briefly to examine it. “Alright. Lots to do. So you’ll send your men after the demon—?” The last word was garbled, as if the Governor were trying to talk while picking at his teeth. Which he was.
“What?” asked Cadmon. “Some of my men? What demon? What the hell are you talking about?” He sat back down.
Whitford smacked both hands down on the desk. “The demon? Hello?”
Cadmon stared blankly at the Governor.
“Were you even listening, dumbass?”
“Well, yes. I thought… but I—”
“The demon,” said Whitford. “The one who’s on his way here.”
“Oh, right. Right.”
“You’re supposed to send some of your men to get him.”
“My men? What are you—?”
“Unk,” said Whitford. He’d tossed the pen cap aside and was now just using a his finger. Finally he stopped, removed his hand – which had been lodged halfway into his mouth – and held something up to look at it in the light.
Cadmon nearly gagged, but felt a little relieved now that the episode appeared to be at an end.
But it wasn’t. Whitford stabbed a button on his intercom. “Withers, bring me some goddamned floss.”
Ms. Withers came in with the dental floss. “Minty, just like you like it,” she said, and bustled out.
Cadmon really, really did not want to watch this man floss. But if this, he told himself, was what it took to do God’s work, then so be it. He tried to think of Jesus’ suffering. Then he thought about how Jesus probably never had to watch the Blob floss.
When it came to Whitford, Cadmon generally tried to avoid being around for anything that even remotely resembled a bodily function. Today, however, was a total catastrophe – Cadmon had already watched the man eat, and was about to have to watch him floss. At least we’re not at the gym, he thought, and then immediately shook his head to erase the disturbing image of post-workout showers that popped into his head.
“My men?” asked the preacher.
“I know about your little army.”
Cadmon decided to ignore that one. “Why can’t you send some of your people?”
Whitford spread his arms. “Do you see anyone here?”
Cadmon glanced around, slightly confused. “I see you. What about those soldiers I’ve seen around town?” He gestured at a closet which, even on a day when Whitford’s soldiers hadn’t run off naked, probably would have had few, if any, serviceable military men, clothed or otherwise. “You’ve got tons of people – soldiers, staff, whatever – that you can send. Why can’t you do it?”
“You fuckwit. My entire staff ran off this morning. All of them. Every single one. Along with half of our – my – soldiers. Ezekiel said it has something to do with the demon. But whatever. Apparently they’re out there, just… just running around naked.” He too waved a hand at the closet, even though he’d just opened it this morning and hadn’t found a single naked guy in it.
“Ms. Withers is still here.”
“Shut up,” said Whitford.
“You’ve got to have someone. I can’t send my guys. Just send some state troop—”
Dick Whitford was capable, when the occasion called