Zoltar

A short story for your amusement.

I am Zoltar.

It was one fateful night I saw something that needed action, and the fortune of a young girl would change forever.

They cajoled and nudged The Girl toward me. The dollar appeared from a friend and she handed it to The Girl. I could see The Girl hesitate, perhaps from embarrassment more than fear. At her friends’ insistence, The Girl placed the dollar in the slot.

After some of my usual movements and pronouncements, I delivered to her a rather harmless and quite expected card from a slot that produced so many expected cards. The girls all crowded around to see what it said.

You will have a great adventure.

All the girls laughed and concocted wild and teasing conjectures as to what adventure might lie ahead for their friend. But The Girl did not dismiss the fortune out of hand. As her friends teased, The Girl looked Zoltar in the eye searching for further meaning. I knew she would be back.

The man was large and seemingly a brute. He took the red cap from his head and slammed it to the ground. His girlfriend left in a huff. The man picked up the cap. He was perhaps a race fan. It said Le Mans on it. I had not seen one like it. He walked after the girlfriend.

Follow the man in the red cap.

"What man? What red cap?"

Without further payment, another card came her way.

The cap bears Le Mans on it.

Several blocks later, the man came to a rental house on a wooded lot, one of the few remaining humble structures in a beach town replacing such homes with mansions. The Girl hid behind a pine tree, peeking out at the man as he entered the house. The Girl crept closer. There was nothing else in sight but an old panel van.

Why she was following this man, she did not know. The Girl reasoned that very specific cards coming from a fortune teller machine must mean something.

The phone in The Girl's hip pocket buzzed. The Girl may have thought she was cool and unflappable, but this time, the cell phone buzz she received so often spooked her. She removed the phone to see that she had a text message from 'Z.' 'Who is Z?' she thought. 'No, that can't be,' she reasoned knowing the only Z name with whom she had recent communication was Zoltar. The message asked, 'What is the license plate number?' The Girl smiled. Z was on the case.

She crept slowly to another tree to be able to read the plate on the van. She froze. The man returned from the house. He was carrying his girlfriend like a sack of potatoes over his shoulder. The girlfriend was bound and gagged with duct tape. The girlfriend was not moving. Was she dead?

The man left the door open and returned to the house. The Girl had to get closer to read the plate. She was able to move to the opposite side of the van. It was parked close to the house, but she had enough room to squeeze behind the open door and see the license plate. She took her phone and responded to Z with the number.

The Girl didn't hear the man return until the backdoor of the van slammed shut. The Girl tried to find the inside door release in the darkened interior but was too late. The van started to move.

"Little girl," the man said to The Girl. "I don't want to hurt anyone, but if you don't come back over here, this woman is dead."

As two policemen cuffed the man, another police officer walked to The Girl, still frozen in place by the water. "Are you all right?" she asked.

"Do you know somebody named Z?"

The Girl knew the answer to that question was murky on several levels, she could only say, "I'm not sure."

"Well, we got these repeated text messages on all our phones from Z that simply provided a plate number and the words, ‘He is here.’ We ran the plates and found that the owner, that man over there being cuffed, had a warrant for his arrest. Assault with a deadly weapon. We put out an APB and I saw that van pass me. I followed it and, when it pulled off the road, I called for backup.

"Whoever this Z is, you owe him big time."

The girl knew the officer was right.

The Girl came to me once again. She talked to me, ignoring inquisitive expressions from those who wondered why one would talk to an inanimate object. The Girl knew why.

Perhaps out of habit, curiosity, or simply keeping up appearances, The Girl put a dollar in my slot. Zoltar produced a card. She removed it, read it and smiled. Then her friends came along and rushed to The Girl with expressions of 'There you are,' and 'We've been looking for you.' The girl put the card in her pocket, keeping the message between Zoltar and herself.

And there it will remain.

Come, let Zoltar tell you your future.