I was up before they were. Both men were still unconscious on the ground when I finally stood up. The inexplicable red light had subsided and I could look more easily in their direction. They seemed to be asleep there, not hurt at all, but peaceful.
I walked over to them cautiously and I could see that they were still breathing. I thought to look for help, but then both men started to move as they regained consciousness. They sat up slowly and I asked them gently, “Are you guys alright?”, afraid that I might startle them.
The black man was skinny, but he looked healthier than I had imagined he would when I saw him in the restaurant. He didn’t look thirty anymore. He ignored my question completely and he stared into the eyes of the white man. I looked at him and he wasn’t as big as I remember. It felt like my eyes or my memory, or both, we’re playing tricks on me. Or maybe it’s the pair of them, I thought to myself as I considered the white man. They had definitely changed. The pupils of the white man’s eyes were red and though they were not illuminated in any way, they were stark and impossible to miss.
“You so stupid,” the black man said, shaking his head.
“Yeah? We both still hungry, too,” the man said it like it was the black man’s fault.
“Why we do this anyway?” The black man was exasperated and he looked away from the white man in my direction and it was the first time that he noticed me.
“The fuck?” the black man said with a petrified look on his face. “Who you?” the white man added in a seamless continuation of the black man’s surprise.
I didn’t know what to say for a second and my lips moved while I stammered. I knew what I had seen earlier; a difference appearance on both men and the bright red light that was slightly concussive. Completely inexplicable, and then they were staring up at me from the ground with anger in their eyes, like they both figured that I had witnessed the display that would definitely have gone unwitnessed in the seemingly abandoned neighborhood had I not been there, like I had violated them somehow.
“I…I saw you,” I fumbled words, “You loo…looked like you needed help.”
“You saw the light didn’t you?” the black man looked disappointed and I figured that he was mad that he would have to dispose of me, the nosey passerby. The black man stood up and dusted off his clothes and the white man moved to sit on the sidewalk. I was sure that they looked like two entirely different men than the ones I had followed from the Bojangles.
“What are you guys?” I asked, unable to restrain my curiosity.
The white man slapped at the black one’s leg. “Tell ‘em.”
The black man turned to the white one and he stooped to grab the man’s neck with one hand, and then he stood with no effort, picking up the white man and holding him up high enough that his legs dangled. The white man was laughing hysterically, and then the black man threw him like a ragdoll into a lot of overgrown grass.
I cowered back and the black man turned and bowed before me.
“I am Fomorn, at your service.” He spoke with a different accent then, I assumed it was Irish, like a leprechaun.
“What are you?” I asked, mesmerized and frightened all at once.
“I am a man who could use some help,” Fomorn said.
“You don’t need help,” I said, “your friend does.”
Fomorn rolled his eyes. “Can you hurt the wind?” he asked.
And suddenly there was a strong gust of wind and the white man literally flew back to his spot on the sidewalk.
“Fo, if it was that easy, then this little marriage of ours would have been over a very long time ago.” The white man had the same accent as the black one and he smiled showing his teeth.
“My friend here is very durable,” Fomorn explained. “That was a tap on the head to him. A man like that is not so easy to rid yourself of, as you will soon find out.”
It seemed that he was being foreboding, not in a malicious way, and if I had to characterize it, I would say that he seemed to feel bad for me. If only I had heeded the warning.
“You can consider us your fairy godfathers,” the white man said. He held a hand out and it glowed red. “Ask for it, you get it. You did for me earlier, I won’t forget that, you are a good recruit.”
Fomorn shook his head.
“We should just do what we came here to do,” Fomorn was obviously tired like he had done this all before.
“You’re dumb if you think we’re ever gonna do enough to redeem ourselves.” The white man spoke fast. “It’s never enough, friend,” he looked at me with purpose then, but he still talked to Fomorn. “But if you just let me do what I’ve planned all these years, we can get what we want and say fuck it to this homeless community service situation.”
I could have left at any point. Or I think I could have, I like to think that I had some control during the ordeal. I think I could have just taken off, sprinted back to the college and jumped into my car and gone home, but I didn’t. I watched the two of them have a conversation about me and I had no idea what they were talking about. It seemed that they were pretending to be homeless, I thought maybe they were actors. And which of their accents were real? They spoke in their southern accents before they knew that I was following them, and I really hate to say this, but it was jarring to see a black man speak so naturally with an Irish accent. It was all very uncanny and I could not take my eyes off of them. And the white man’s hand was still glowing red.
“He wants to challenge some gods,” Fomorn said like it was preposterous. “But if we just do what we have to do to make amends, then we can go home. You can’t make a zar understand logic, they just want to smash…”
“Shut up,” the white man stood and offered me his glowing red hand. “You’re a good man. You can be a great god.”
I stared at the hand and wondered how it would change me.
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