Dragonfly by Jax Hill 

"It’s the Dunkers.”

Jack had seen them getting off the bus, and tumbling out of some busted-up little mini-vans and off a couple of little Japanese motorbikes. You could tell them because of the shirts they wore. The t-shirts used to say things like “The end is near,” but now they said, “The End is Here.” They had the line drawings of the Dunker, but now they were more iconic, like the faces of Elvis and Selena on the black velvet walls of true believers. The Dunkers were mostly young guys, Jack’s age, late teens and early 20’s, but there were some grown-ups, too. They had crew cuts and tans, baggy pants. We hadn’t heard anything about them since the Dunker had been killed. We assumed they’d been terrified by what happened to him and quietly disbanded. But that did not appear to be the case. They came to our park one day.

They had maneuvered their p.o.s. vehicles into metered parking, seemed to have packed about 10 of them into every mini-van so they kept pouring out like clowns at the circus. The overflow was on the city bus, which had arrived at the same time; like a caravan, and some of them were pulling their bicycles off the bus’ front rack. They trooped over to the park, and when they saw me and Pete, Bruiser, Jack and Jazz, the ones in the lead came over to us.

“We’re looking for Duncan’s cousin,” said one of the older ones, one of the grown-ups. He had the crazy eyes. You know, you could tell, looking at the Dunker when he was alive, that he was some kind of madman. With the camo and the wild hair, and the flashing eyes. This guy had the flashing eyes but he lacked the Dunker’s bulk and power. He seemed nervous, that was the flash in his eyes, nervous energy, anxiety, but defiance, too.

“He’s here,” Jack said, “over there.” He pointed out the green jacket on the other side of the park, sitting with some of our bum friends. “You guys ok? Did Nikolai come after you?”

The rest of the Dunkers had followed the leaders to us and were surrounding us. I saw Torstein had noticed and was coming to meet them.

“I don’t know,” the leader answered Jack. “We all split. We were scared when it came down to it. He was so brave ... and we ... we ran out on him.”

“No use you’re getting killed, too,” Bruiser said. “Look, Torstein’s coming.”

“Gentlemen!” Torstein was calling. “Welcome! You’re welcome here. You’re just the guys I’m looking for.”

Since when, I wondered? I had never heard him mention the Dunkers at all.

“We’re looking for you, too,” said Crazy Eyes. “We don’t know what to do now.”

“Yeah,” said another Dunker. “We need to do something, for Duncan.”

“And Duncan always said you were the one with the answers,” said Crazy Eyes. “You were the one.”

There really seemed to be a lot of these guys, 50 or 60, maybe 70. They all crowded around Torstein, jostling each other to get a look at him, staring at him with this ridiculous intensity. It was as if Duncan had been their head, and it was cut off, so they were desperate for a new head.

“Duncan was the greatest of men,” Torstein said. “He was always honest and didn’t pull any punches. He prized integrity, prized the truth. He would have wanted you to pursue the truth. He doesn’t need you to avenge him, and he wouldn’t want you to forget him, but he would want you to seek out the truth, and defend it. Right?”

The Dunkers nodded their heads.

“Stay here with us in the park this afternoon. Take a look at what we’re doing here. What’s unfolding here, before your eyes, is no less than the kingdom that Duncan told you was coming. Walk around, talk to my friends, discover the truth here ... and then tonight, I’ll tell you what you can do for Duncan, and for me, and for the kingdom.”

The Dunkers appeared ready to do whatever Torstein commanded, so they dispersed throughout the park. They listened to Story Hour and talked to Tawny and Mari, to Maggie and to the rest of the guys. They sat beside the homeless and argued with some of them about their alcoholism. They all had some sunflower seeds and applauded Sully’s obstacle course routine with the little dog, Tartan. They listened as Torstein comforted a grieving dad whose wife had taken the kids and left, and they bit their tongues when Torstein told a crack addict she could still be a good mother ... They didn’t understand his method, but they respected that Duncan had loved and admired him.

At the end of the day, he gathered them around and told them:

“Here’s the truth: love is the answer. The kingdom of God, the one Duncan told you was coming, it is nothing more than the kingdom where love rules ... and it’s here. Now. Whenever someone takes a risk for love, the kingdom has arrived. This is what I want you to do, for Duncan’s memory, and for me. I want you to sort yourselves out into pairs, fan out across the city, and go tell this truth to everyone — and not just in this city. Go north, south, east, west, and preach it.”

“Repent and be saved?” asked Crazy Eyes.

“No, just what I told you: The kingdom of God is the kingdom where love rules, and so whenever someone risks everything for love, the kingdom has arrived. If anyone accepts your message and wants to buy you a beer or a soda, you sit down with them and tell them what you’ve witnessed here, and how love can transform a life, a park, a city. You have your bikes and vans, and the rest of you can take the buses. Just go tell people the facts. The truth.”

They looked dubious, but they agreed to do it.

They felt they hadn’t been brave when the Dunker was killed, but really, they were way braver than me. I would never have stood on a street corner and preached like they did about criminals and gangs and drugs. I would have died from embarrassment, but they had done that for the Dunker. Now they had a new message, and they were going to preach it for Torstein. They may have been afraid of Nikolai’s bullets in the heat of the moment ... but they weren’t afraid of this much more dangerous thing: trying to tell hateful people that love is the answer.

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