The Bodyguard ("Singularity" story #93)

SINGULARITY
by Michael Kroetch

The bodyguard is standing there in the alley looking into the eyes of his mother’s future maid of honor, but he can’t see the jack-o-lantern girl. His mind is elsewhere. His hands dangle—whitened knuckles twisting in the wind. Her breath is tinged with wintermint, but he won’t let himself smell it. Words are being spoken to him, but he can’t hear them. Why? Because this isn’t supposed to be happening. He’s on duty. Isn’t he? No questions! He cannot allow it. There can be no doubt. He is a professional. An army of one. End of story. He is part of the elite and is not listening. He can’t.

He is picturing something else. Himself, elsewhere. Successful. A champion with a sniper’s bullet exploding into his sternum as he leaps up, euphoric and heroic, in front of a movie star’s mother. Right there above the red carpet rolled stiff to the hubcaps of their limousine parked in front of the twinkling cinema complex on opening night. Free popcorn. Cameras flashing. People’s lips ripping open in screams at the gunshot. It is the most perfect moment. But he can’t hold onto it. The perfection slips out of his grip, to be replaced by what he most explicitly must not permit—the wintermint-scented jack-o-lantern still there and still talking. In her eyes he sees himself reflected. Or rather, his mirrored glasses. Seeing the calmness of these insect-like mirror eyes soothes him. He still has distance, can still be the army, still be on the outside. Alone. Singular. Even now. Even with her here so perilously near. He can ignore his semi-ignited state. Can keep his troops together. Maintain an equilibrium of armored readiness.

Thinking such, he moves his hand slightly toward his pocket where he put his gun, just to be sure it’s still there and that all is well. Which is when a few more words slip across the threshold of the jack-o-lantern’s re-stitched on lips, and seep out through the air toward him: “I’m worried about your mother. It seems she’s in some trouble.”