Rico was absolutely waiting for an answer.

Did he believe in Jesus? As an adult Roy had lost what little faith he had through a series of events that left him renouncing an uncaring God. Certainly working for the Federal government had left him agnostic to most things, including his ex-wife and his two boys. A belief was there but it had no pulse, it contained no answers for what his life had been or would become. Roy was certain Jesus could run him over in a big white tank and he still wouldn't believe in him.

But back then his religion was fear. He was afraid of Rico, as if he was some predatory animal that had stalked him at the perimeter of the orchard before closing the gap with powerful, threatening strides. Which is exactly what Rico had done.

"Of course I believe in Jesus," the boy said. "Don't you?"

"Roy, little man," Rico whispered, as he squat down on his haunches, the black wirey nostril hair and the stench of his breath now unavoidable. He grabbed the sides of Roy's head as if to gaze upon something precious."I am Jesus."