Borderlands 5 Read Online Free

what they make you do? They can put her someplace safe and you’ll never have to hurt her again.”
    He dragged an arm across his teary eyes, then inhaled thickly. “ Really? ”
    “I’m almost certain, yes.”
    He looked toward City Hall and took something from his pocket; a small, cheap, plastic toy modeled after a Saturday morning cartoon character. “I got this for her to say I’m sorry. I always get her something after … after, and she always … thanks me. Do you think she’ll like it?”
    “I’m sure she’ll love it.”
    “They sell these over at the drug store. I could— hey, I could maybe tell them I’m taking her out to buy another one, then we could go over there.”
    “That sounds good. Make sure you use the dark brown metal door on the 5th Street side.” That would take them down a short set of stairs into the police station.
    “I’ll remember. You bet I will.” And he walked away, gripping the toy as if it were a holy talisman. “ Swear to God I never meant to hurt her. They made me. They always make me. Oh, God …”
    I watched until he disappeared around the corner. I bent down to collect my spilled change and my car’s horn sounded from behind. After I’d managed to squeeze back into my skin, I turned, still shaking, to see Listen sitting in the passenger seat. He grinned at me and waved. “I’d forgotten they were out of the coconut cream pie,” he said, leaning out the open window. “I took care of the bill. Let’s go for a ride.”
    I gathered up what change I could find and climbed in but didn’t start the car.
    “Another story, I take it?”
    I exhaled. “Jesus, that guy was … was—”
    “—at the end of his rope, just so you know. I’d share the specifics of his home situation, but it would only make you sad and sick.”
    “Do you know what’s going to happen?”
    “Yes. I won’t say he and the little girl will both be fine, because the possibility of that outcome died a long while ago. But he’ll get her out of there tonight and take her through the brown metal door and, eventually, things will be better for both of them. Not great—never great—but better . Now believe it or not, I am on something of a schedule, so if you would please start the car and drive out to Moundbuilders Park …”
    “Why there?”
    He huffed and made a strangling gesture with his hands. “Arrrgh!—and when was the last time you heard anyone actually say that? Look, do I strike you as being impulsive? No? Do you think I go about will-nilly?  Of course not. Has any of this seemed unplanned ?”
    I started the car and drove away.
    “Have you ever seen any paintings or drawings of Jesus?” he asked.
    “Of course.”
    “Can you remember anything specific about them?”
    I shrugged. “Beard. Hair. Flowing robes. Eyes.”
    “But the faces have always been different somehow, haven’t they? The hair longer or shorter, the beard fuller, the cheekbones higher or lower, fuller or more drawn, even the hue of the skin has been different—yet somehow you always recognize the face.”
    “Okay … ?”
    “Ever wonder how many different versions of that face exist in statues or paintings or sketches?”
    “Thousands, I would think.”
    “Seventy-two, actually. Followers of the Prophet Abdu’l-Bahá believe that everything in nature has ‘two and seventy names.’ That’s almost right. The thing that has always annoyed me about the various religions is that, with rare exceptions, their beliefs are too compartmentalized. This is what we believe in, period. I’ll tell you a secret: they’re all wrong—individually. The problem is none of them can see Belief holistically. If they were all to ‘gather at the river,’ so to speak, and compare notes, you’d be surprised how quickly people would stop setting off bombs and flying airplanes into skyscrapers. But I digress.
    “Everything in nature does have seventy-two names. But certain of these things also have seventy-two forms.