Jobe and the Red Man(Nathan) Jobe and the Red Man
I was born in late Eridug. My mother left soon after my birth where I was left in a shed to die, fortunately, I was saved. We moved perhaps ten or so times in attempts to avoid the caseworkers. I've never gotten an education above the second grade where I was moved out of. It was winter, I had just turned seven when I met this man. Right away I knew he was not ordinary. He wore all dark, jeans, and a thick black sweatshirt with the exception of a peculiar red cap sloped forwards in the front. He had bright eyes that shone a lifely blue shade that masked his heavy aging. He had a slight limp on his right leg which gave him an odd gait, and on his hand, he had a tattoo of an eye. He was our landlord, there were no legal agreements but he let us stay there in exchange for work. I walked up to him and introduced myself “nice to meet you.” He looked down kindly, paused for a moment, and reached out his hand, “I’m Jobe.”
Many weeks passed and I hadn't spoken another word to Jobe, not because I didn't want to. In fact, I quite admired his appearance, I felt like I could learn something from him and was eager to do so. Jobe was always in a rush however, I simply didn't want to distract him from his work. Every day he would wake up, get in his truck, go somewhere and come back late at night. Occasionally he’d stop at our apartment to go into the shed in the back of our complex. I was strangely fascinated by what and why he entered the shed on such a frequent basis so after my “kid work” I set off to find out. I went to the shed and found the door locked shut with a heavy chain, Damn.
One day before Jobe woke up I decided to summon myself out of bed to greet him. He came out of the flimsy glass door of the complex down the road and looked past me. I looked up at him and said, “morning Jobe, can I come along?” He gave that same silent pause of thorough contemplation and told me I could. His truck smelt burned like steak, yet sweet, it was quite nauseating really. The smell was so thick I could almost taste it. However, I was very grateful to not have to do my special work today.
We arrived eventually at complex five, a multifamily home combined with a unit of cheap one-person apartments. He told me we were ready and asked me politely to help him carry in his tool bag. When we got inside he taught me how to fix a washer by replacing its motor coupler. He spoke so soft yet so deep like some of the customers yet soothing not frightening. When we were done he gave me some cash for my help, although I didn't do much but watch, and he told me to wait in the truck.
He came back a few minutes later with a gray bag and threw it onto the truck bed. Then he hopped into the truck and took off back to our apartment. When we got there he took the grey bag from before and struggled with it on his way to the shed. He dropped the bag with a thud and pulled out his keys to unlock it. I was ecstatic. I've wanted to know what was in there for weeks. He opened it up, and nothing. It was practically empty, a few chains hung from the wall, some decrepit worn box springs from a long-gone mattress lied on the ground and some exposed beams separated what appeared to be a second room just as empty as the first. The same smell that lingered in Jobe's car was present and much worse. It was so sweet and metallic and rich I hated it. I looked up at Jobe and inquired “what is that smell?” he said “flesh.”
Jobe unzipped the big grey duffle bag he had received at complex five and took out the contents. It was a middle-aged man perhaps thirty-five or so, dead, limp like overcooked spaghetti. Jobe took the man out of the bag and walked over to the metal box springs. By now they were rusted and a few thin and dirty strands of fabric crossed the rungs like the skin of a carcass. Jobe then attached a metal anklet from the box spring to the man's leg. He pulled a dusty rocking chair from the corner and offered me a seat. I was stunned and slightly terrified but it was better than work so I took the seat. Jobe sat down cross-legged on the dirt floor with a struggling sigh and took out a matchbook. He started lighting match after match till they burnt down to his fingertips and without even as much as a flinch he lit another almost mechanically. His dark black pupils should have been contracting yet they dilated to a bizarre size as they were fixated on the match. Jobe kept this habit until he heard a stir. Immediately he stifled the flame and jerked his head towards the chained man. As if his pupils were not abnormally large enough they suddenly appeared larger as he had a sudden jolt of exultation. He lept up and startled me as he ran towards the soiled once red cans of gasoline that lay dormant under the remains of a broken ladder. The man now fully conscious, apparently not dead, turned his palms towards Jobe in submission and repeated “no...please no” in a panicking begging manner. Jobe in response flashed the eye of his palm in the direction of the man as he advanced. When Jobe got to the man he tore off the thin white v necked t-shirt that he was wearing and tossed it on the ground and whispered to himself “Your word fills the young man's heart with vigour, so that like a thick-horned bull he butts about in the courtyard.” By now I was bewildered and genuinely curious about what was about to happen. Jobe opened the can of gas and ranted like a madman “your powers are superior powers, untouchable, and your heart is complex and inscrutable. Like heaven itself, your just matrix, in which gods too can be born.” Jobe glanced at me as he poured the gas all over the man's back. He lit a match stared into the man's pleading eyes and said “I shall enflame you like fire. Like a storm I shall overturn you” and with that, he tossed the match onto the man's back and said one last thing, “Red Man.”
The next thing I knew Jobe led me to my bed which was a putrid mattress I was forced to sleep and work on. Before long I was asleep. In my sleep, I saw a burning man who announced himself as the Red man. I can not recount his words exactly but he told me to start fires or I would be burned. When I awoke I was badly beaten for having skipped work. My shoulder was bashed so badly I had to relocate it afterward which was excruciatingly painful. I thought about last year at school how grand it was to have an escape. They allowed us computers to be used there. I would research the internment camps of nazis, or rather just look at pictures. It fascinated me how the human body could endure so much physical and mental damage and still be able to recover. It was an amazing testament to me of human will.
I had to skip work again. I didn't have a choice the Red man would kill me. I went with Jobe the next morning and he truly acted as if nothing had happened. We greeted each other, I got in the truck and we took off to complex 11 a rental house. He told me to wait in the truck as he went inside. I stepped out for some fresh air as the smell was making me ill. I heard Jobe and the tenant arguing about something about “taxes” and “I can kick you out.” Then as Jobe came out I hopped back in and we took off to complex two. An old lady lived there and she apparently had a light bulb go out. Jobe grabbed a portable four-foot ladder and let me change out the bulb. The old lady told us we could stay for dinner but Jobe politely declined, thanked the lady, and left with me. Jobe dropped me off early at my complex where I was beaten in the back of the head and developed a sharp ringing noise in the back part of my brain where the head and neck meet. It was more painful then the beatings, a constant high pitched buzz, it was inescapable. I covered my ears at first assuming it was external but nothing would stop the ringing. Eventually after “late shift” I was going to fall asleep when I saw a fly buzz by my head. I know I hit the fly because my hang landed right on it but when I retracted my hand to verify, I saw no fly and the buzzing in my head stopped and allowed me to fall asleep. In my dreams, I once again saw the red man and he was angry. He told me I needed to burn something and then he showed me myself being burned alive and said that would be me if I did not obey his command. I was shaken awake the next morning by Jobe who said he wanted me to come along today. He gave me a lukewarm cup of decaf and whispered “lets roll.” I treaded lightly down the stairs and then ran to his truck and hopped in. This time we didn't visit any complexes instead Jobe pulled into a barren overgrown parking lot which had been so long abandoned that large-sized trees were bursting through the cracks in the pavement. Jobe told me to once again, wait in the car as he went into a half-demolished gas station that looked like a crack house we used to live in. While I waited in the truck I started seeing multicolored lights all around me and whistling I felt I was going mad. Jobe finally retired from the building carrying what appeared to be a little boy not even ten years older than me, maybe 14 or 15. He opened the back gate of the truck, tossed the unconscious body in, and took off. We got back to the shed and went inside. We found the shed disturbed and all objects in the rooms were strewn about curiously. A small animal, rabbit or raccoon, dangled from its neck hung from a rope. I stared at the animal as Jobe set to work preparing the boy. I just stared blankly and suddenly broke into a burst of mad laughter. I saw the Red man there and hundreds of swirling lights and colors. I steadied myself on the rocking chair still placed in its spot from last time and sat down. I continued my crazed laughter as Jobe took the adolescent and stabbed a burning match into his back. Jobe took a vile of thinly crushed glass shards and poured them into the wound. He put both of the boys' hands in shackles and hoisted him up the beams of the shed which looked much like the crucifixion of Jesus Christ. Almost systematically the boy awakened in excruciating pain as Jobe watched with me laughing until his lungs were exhausted and his voice was hoarse. We then took the can of gasoline and placed it under the beam where the boy was displayed. I handed Jobe a match and he was about to drop it into the gas can as he screamed “Join the children of the Red man!” Just then I ran with all my will towards the door and shut it. Before Jobe could realize what was going on the door was shut and locked. Jobe frantically and savagely beat on the door like a crazed animal yet I did not dare open the door. He burned in there that day along with the boy and all evidence of the shed and I was free.
I didn't go home to the apartments that day. But the Red man never left me. I was Jobe.

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