The Black Mass of Brother Springer Read Free Page B

article down, I can sell it to the Miami Herald for fifty dollars. If the Miami Herald turns it down, I'll expand the article into another inspirational book, condense it, and sell it to the Reader's Digest. Can you see the possibilities?"
           "What are you going to write about, Sam?"
           "I'm going to write the truth. That's all. Evidently, the monastic way of life is crumbling, and there has to be a reason. I don't know what that reason is, of course, but what if there is a secret moral discouragement throughout the country that we don't suspect? It says in the news item that the monks have all been reassigned. Where have they been sent? Why were they reassigned? This is news, my dear, and people today want to find out everything pertaining to religion—and especially about monks. In a valueless society, half-Republican and half-Socialist, monks and hermits are the only people left with any individuality. If they go, where does that leave the rest of us? Don't you see?"
           "As a matter of fact, I don't. Your coffee is getting cold."
           "You're right. The coffee is getting cold. And I really don't know what I'll find up there. It may be a dead trail, but on the other hand, I may run into a swarm of Life reporters and photographers beating me to the story. But I have to see for myself. I haven't been able to think of anything to write about for a long time, and this story has potential. When you finish your coffee, pack a bag for me."
           "How long will you be gone?"
           "A couple of days, maybe three. No more."
           That evening Virginia drove me to the Greyhound Bus station and I purchased my ticket for Orangeville. I decided that the trip would be cheaper by bus than it would be with the car, and besides she needed the car to get to the supermarket. While we waited for the bus to leave, I reassured Virginia that I would only be gone for three days at the most.
           "Have you got any money?" I asked.
           "As a matter of fact," she replied, "I only have about three dollars."
           "Here." I gave her a five dollar bill. "This should be enough until I get back."
           I boarded the bus, took a seat by the window, and waved goodbye through the blue-tinted window to Virginia as the bus pulled away from the station.
           It was not until the Greyhound stopped at Melbourne, Florida, about a hundred miles up the coast, that I realized I had only purchased a one-way ticket to Orangeville. Why did I do that, I wondered, when a roundtrip ticket would have been substantially cheaper?
           I knew all right. My conscious mind knew, and my subconscious mind also knew...
     
     

Chapter Three
     
     
    Every year in these United States thirty per cent of the husbands leave their wives and go elsewhere. A large percentage of these deserting husbands return, mostly those with children; they miss the children. Others are brought back reluctantly by court order when they are caught. Many return because they miss their wives, and when they realize that taking care of their own laundry, meals, sex, and so on is quite a chore when alone in a room somewhere. Some of the errant husbands are persuaded to return by relatives, ministers, and by repentant wives.
           Many, however, get away. For the determined man, it is a relatively simple matter to disappear in the United States. The first step is to leave and go to another state, preferably a fairly large city in another state. The second step is to change the name, and then get the name certified as legally correct. The easiest way to do this is to register at any Social Security office and obtain a number to go with the new name. No questions are asked at the Social Security office and within a few days you will find yourself with a new Social Security card. Next, obtain a state driver's license. Although it plainly states at the bottom of the Social Security card