Bentley Little: The Burning

The thing was, the beating he'd dreamed about had occurred right here, where the Holiday Inn was standing. Only it had been years ago, decades maybe, and the motel hadn't been there. Instead, it had been some sort of steel yard or lumberyard. Did he feel so guilty for staying at this overpriced motel that he was mentally beating himself up about it? He didn't think so. Neither did he think he'd had some sort of random nightmare. He had the feeling that there was meaning here, that he was tapping into something.

Dennis smiled slightly. He'd become awfully self-important since leaving home.

On the other side of the highway, a train went by, a freight train, and he shivered at the sound of its whistle, an echo from his dream.

It was a long way to morning, but he did not feel tired. If he hadn't already paid for the room and it hadn't been so expensive, he would've packed up his stuff right now and taken off. The idea of night driving appealed to him. But he owed it to his mom and Cathy to act responsibly, and he didn't want a cop to come across his mangled corpse on some back road after he'd fallen asleep and crashed into a tree, and then call his mom to tell her he was dead. No, he'd stay here, wait until morning, try to go back to sleep.

That was easier said than done, however, and he ended up watching the last half of an Emmanuelle movie on HBO before finally dozing off.

He'd been planning to get an early start in the morning, but he didn't awaken until after nine, and by the time he showered, shaved, packed and availed himself of the complimentary breakfast, it was nearly ten thirty.

He didn't leave Pennsylvania until after noon.

Five

Flagstaff, Arizona

College life was great!

Angela had never suspected it would be anything less, but NAU had exceeded her most optimistic expectations. Northern Arizona University had been on the short list of colleges offering scholarships that would give her enough money to actually attend the school, and when she'd come here with her parents to visit, she'd been very impressed with the scenic beauty of the Flagstaff area. The campus itself had been impressive as well, all red brick and vine-covered rock, its streets fronted by wrought iron gates, and it had looked to her more like an Eastern Ivy League campus than the cow town college she'd been expecting. Indeed, even after she'd seen Cal Poly, San Luis Obispo, in central California, the University of New Mexico in Albuquerque and the University of Nevada in Reno, it was NAU that had remained in her mind, and gut instinct told her that this would be a good place to attend school.

It was more than good. Her initial impressions had been correct-there was definitely a hippieish vibe to the place, and she thought that was wonderful. The competitiveness of Los Angeles, the fractious tribalism with which she'd grown up, was nowhere in evidence, and instead the mood was mellow, casual, live-and-let-live, an attitude and lifestyle that immediately made her feel comfortable.

Oh, she had a few minor quibbles. Sports seemed to be far too big a deal here, particularly for a university with no nationally ranked team, but as Chrissie had said, the winters were harsh, and since NAU had a domed stadium, attending sporting events was one of the few social options open for students during the cold months. Although Angela swore otherwise, Chrissie promised her that by the first week in December, she, too, would be gratefully attending a football game.

But she just loved her fellow Babbitt House residents. And the homesickness she'd been expecting had never materialized. She and Chrissie had bonded instantly and despite their divergent backgrounds had become, in a matter of weeks, the closest of friends. While Angela still regularly called and e-mailed her friends back home, lately it had been more out of obligation than necessity because she was as happy here as she'd ever been back in L.A. Winston and Brock were great, like her own Queer Eye team navigating the world of college and Arizona for her. She didn't know Drew and Lisa that well, a married couple who were both grad students and lived at the end of the upstairs hall-they pretty much kept to themselves- but Randy, who lived alone in the apartment next to theirs, and Kelli and Yurica, who had the other downstairs apartment, were all nice and were quickly becoming friends.

She'd even met someone.

His name was Brian Oakland, he was from Milwaukee, Wisconsin, and he was a junior majoring in forestry. He wasn't exactly what she thought of as her type-not that she had a type-but he was interesting and attractive, and the two of them had hit it off instantly. They'd been on only one date, nothing hot and heavy, so it was too early to call what they had a relationship, but the date had gone well, they'd already scheduled another, and they were spending an awful lot of time on the phone. She hadn't told her parents yet, figuring it was better to be safe than sorry. She planned to go home for Thanksgiving, and if she and Brian were still seeing each other by then, she'd tell them about him. But if they weren't... well, then it was better for her parents not to know anything had happened at all.

Besides, he wasn't even Catholic.

She was still trying to think of a way to break that to them.

Of course, they'd be shocked if they heard some of the discussions she and her new friends had about religion. Just last night, Winston and Brock had invited her and Chrissie over for a potluck dinner. She'd made a salad, Chrissie a Mississippi mud pie, and Winston and Brock had come up with a spectacular seafood pasta dish. Afterward, they lounged around on the overstuffed living room furniture, and Angela asked Chrissie why she thought some people made religion the bedrock of their lives while other people had no need of religion at all, why her parents, for example, thought about God constantly while Chrissie didn't even believe he existed. She always felt more comfortable talking about this subject with other people around, although she wasn't sure why. Maybe it kept things from getting too personal, gave her an asy out if the talk turned uncomfortable.

Chrissie shrugged. "Well, I think a lot of people are like children. They can't control themselves or behave 'in a rational, civilized manner, so they have to be threatened with punishment from Daddy in order to bring them in line. It's why so many screwups and alcoholics and drug addicts become religious. They need to think that they'll be punished after they die or else they'll just keep on doing what they're doing. They have to be ordered to behave."

Every time Chrissie said something like that, Angela was shocked anew. Part of her completely understood what her friend was saying and even agreed with some of it. But part of her recoiled, expecting a bolt of lightning to strike Chrissie dead at any second.

"Maybe those people really are saved. Maybe God helps them turn their lives around."

"Then why's there so much recidivism? How come God can't save all of them all the time?"

"Religion does help a lot of people," Angela said. "It gives them faith, gives them hope... ."

"Yeah, but I just don't believe there's an invisible man in the sky monitoring your every move and taking notes so he can punish or reward you after you die, an invisible man so petty and vain that if you don't kiss his ass every Sunday, he'll let you burn in hell for all eternity."

"Leave her alone," Winston said.

"She brought it up," Chrissie pointed out.

"I did," Angela admitted, "although I wasn't trying to start an argument or convert anyone or anything. I was just curious."

"I came from a religious family, too," Winston confided. "So I know where you're coming from."

"He just ran like hell from it when he found out that God hated him and he was going to burn forever because he loved men," Brock said, grinning.