Two days later the Ukulites burned the church down.
And ah ran on. And ah ran on. And ah ran on.
And ah knew ah fled the very fists that had beat poor Queenie down. And ah ran on.
Ah knew that ah was good as dead were they to catch me. Ah held no illusions as to the extent of the violence they would mete upon me. Ah wondered whether the valley walls would prove sufficient to contain the dispersement of mah many parts. And ah ran on. Some terror driving me. Fear at the wheel.
Hurtling past a strip of green ah saw the muzzle of a small dog or ferret squeezing unner a white picket fence. Ah saw its sleek shape dart on to the road, felt it scuttle past mah heels as it disappeared into a dark area on the other side.
At one point the galloping ground beneath mah feet grew suddenly spongy and ah took a fall of some kind which ah can’t remem… of which ah will spare you the details. Suffice to say that ah ended up flat on mah belly, the palms of mah outstretched hands neatly skinned and powdered in red road. Did ah ever tell you about man dogs? Yes? Did ah ever tell you about mah dogs and what they could do to a hamster? Did ah? Mah dogs could atomize a hamster!
Ah waited to be atomized. To be taken apart. Shredded. Blitzed.
Ah could hear footsteps coming toward me. Mah whole body shook with them. Boom-boom boom-boom boom-boom boom-boom. Ah turned to find the mob had gone. No. Not gone – hidden. Ah turned to find the mob had hidden. Stretched out behind me, emptied of its froth and frenzy, the road receded into the distance like a dusty red tongue.
Something rustled in the hedge to mah right. Ah could see strange, pulsing shadows crouched in ambush. A machete winked from behind a nearby roadside pine. Ah backed off. Ah felt low laughter coming at me from behind. Ah spun around. Leaning on some grain sacks in the tray of a utility, a lean weasel-faced youth sneered and sniggered at me as he whittled a piece of kindling with a large knife. Keeping mah eyes fixed on him, ah started walking backwards. Mah foot squelched in its boot. Ah glanced down. The toe of mah boot oozed a little puddle of bright blood. It shimmered in the dust like a jewel. Ah noticed a trail of such jewels scattered behind me.
A toothless hag watched me from her window, then drew back out of view.
Ah looked up and saw the weasel-faced youth thrusting his knife toward me and screwing it. His lips were curled back. He had black teeth and brown foam around his mouth.
‘Wha y’loog gnat?’ he barked viciously. Ah noticed he was very cock-eyed, very insane.
‘Wha y’fuggin loog gnat?’
Ah turned to run. A spear of pain shot up mah leg. The particles in the air blushed. All around. Ah stumbled on, holding mah leg as ah ran.
Ah heard the giggling of many children but ah could not see them. Through the red air.
The wind whispered. Chattered. A million pine needles rained down upon me. Tinkling as they fell.
‘What’s going on?’ ah thought and the ground beneath mah feet turned spongy again and ah think ah went down. Ah remember lying on mah back on the ground and looking up at the awnings of the shop fronts, at the lamp-posts, at the crackling wires, at the street lights, at the tree-tops, at the dusky sky, at the birds, and seeing there the peril intrinsic to all these things.
And then ah was crawling on mah hands and knees. The palms of mah hands stung. Bled. Mah mouth was full of grit. Eyes blurred. Ah could see in the doorway of a building three men wearing false snow-white beards, their weapons hidden in newspapers. A black man with a towel over his arm pushed past them. He was angry. His hair was steel.
‘Are y’jes gunna Stan dere d’win nuttin?’ he said, and he went for me and it was then ah noticed the very fucking big cut-throat razor in his hand. Ah spun mah arms wildly. Mah fists.
Ah ran. Ah looked behind me. The men were on the road now, wiping off their disguises and shaking their fists at me. The black man hadn’t accounted for the spongyness of the road and was laying sprawled out in the dust.
To mah right – no, to mah left – a man hiding behind the hedgerow of Memorial Square held a huge pair of shears in his hands. He looked at me and chopped the air menacingly.
Ah saw a lark screaming.
It was only then that it really struck me. Ah was running through the centre of town. A truck lumbered past, blasting its horn. Ah sped up. Ah was running through the centre of town, right down the middle of the main street. Ah turned to see who was pursuing me. The old negro was on his feet and the men were dusting him down, but no one was following.
Run. Don’t look back. Run. Don’t look back again, ah thought.
There, crossing the road in front of me was…
But ah was going too fast. It was too late to stop mahself.
We collided.
Ah didn’t want to tell you about this but ah guess ah have to. Yes, ah do. Yes ah guess ah really do. But ah don’t want to – it gives me the creeps just to think about it.
Let me take you back to the night before. The night before all this running and fleeing.
Ah had fallen asleep sitting outside on the front steps of the shack – this ah can remember – and ah guess ah had shifted inside at some point through the night as ah awoke the next morning, on mah bed, aching all over, naked, crapulent. Ah swung mah legs over the side, and stared at the little white nightdress ah held in mah hands. Ah fingered the fine cotton fabric, entranced by its whiteness, and stared in disbelief at the embroidered emblem stitched into its bodice. Beth’s nightdress.
Ah stood up and mah whole body ached in protest. Ah bent over to pick up a half-empty bottle of White Jesus. Ah glanced in the mirror and froze.
Ah was scared. Ah could have shit pigs.
Mah back and shoulders were covered in thick black bruises, some of them sticky with seeped blood. Heavy bruises that sure weren’t there last night when ah dropped off to sleep on the steps.
Ah crawled back to mah bed and gingerly laid mahself down on mah stomach, the nightdress still clutched in mah hand, and positioned thus ah looked at everything about me – all the muck and all the misery and all the rotting filth – and ah folded the bright white nightdress and put it under mah cheek. Ah could smell sweet lavender perfume upon it, feel the softness and the cleanness of the fabric.
Perhaps ah sensed mah destiny in that heavy-hearted instant, for hot tears flowed down mah cheeks as ah lay there on mah stomach, not knowing what to do or what ah had done – how on earth ah had come to have in mah possession Beth’s nightdress and how in God’s name had ah obtained such ghastly contusions? Endless questions bullied mah memory but ah drew a blank every time. What did ah do last night? Did ah go down into the town? Did ah visit Beth? Ah shuddered at the thought. Were the bruises on mah back self-inflicted? Did ah scrap with one of mah beasts? Were the angry stripes God’s work? Satan’s? Why did ah harbour such terrible feelings of dread? Of anguish?
And ah lay on the bed, haunted by a thousand such questions made all the more bitter by the presence of the sweet lavender-scented garment. And ah unfolded the nightdress and held it at arm’s length in front of me, then allowed it to descend in skirts of virgin light and sacral lavender over mah shamed, mah tearful face.
We collided.
She had not seen me coming as she ambled across the road. Nor ah her, as ah came hurtling down it.
Sky. Ground.
Ah stood, heaving for breath, in the middle of the road.
Ah held a little girl by the tops of her arms. Ah could feel her soft, warm shoulders and the fabric of her smock beneath mah skinned palms. Mah head swam in a sea of rowdy blood.
Ah held mah breath. Ah held mah breath Ah held mah breath Ah held Beth Ah held…Ah held Beth!.
Beth stared up at me and mah mind jabbered.
O mah… O mah God… O please… Please don’t scream… Please don’t cry… Please don’t scream!
But Beth had no intention of screaming, of crying. She simply looked up at me, her large, liquid eyes peering through her parted tresses of gold. Ah could feel her body trembling in
mah hands but she was not afraid. Nor was she hurt.
Beth smiled and – and – well, there was no evil in that – no, at least ah didn’t notice any and – and then Beth spoke – to me. Ah held her at arm’s length but she moved a step closer. She took a deep breath. Two. Her lavender scent seemed to negate the stench of pigshit, the collected soil of mah day’s bungling, that poured from mah person. Did ah tell you that she moved a step closer? Did ah? She moved a step closer.
‘It is you,’ she said. ‘It is you. You have returned. O Lord, ah thought you would be angry. Forgive me Jesus. I am sorry that they beat you last night. They are scared. But I am not. I am so happy that you came. I have so much to tell you now. But you know, don’t you. I need tell you nothing. Be careful, my saver. They do not like you. They will try and harm you. Quick! You must go.’
She slipped something into mah jacket pocket. Ah stared back in disbelief. Ah realized ah was still holding her by the shoulders and ah dropped mah hands. Ah looked into her welling eyes. She bit her bottom lip and swallered and a tear rolled from one eye.
‘You’ve got the wrong God, girlie,’ ah wanted to say. ‘Ah was sleeping off a two-day drunk last night. Ah’m afraid you got your wires crossed, ah’m no…’
But mah thought responses were no sooner kindled than they were terminated – hell, they were burked! – throttled by a terrible squawking to mah right. Ah did not need to look around to know that the odium that inspired such an ungracious fray was me, but ah took a look anyway, glancing over mah shoulder as ah adjusted mah sickle for flight and took off.
Thundering over the porch of the house next to Beth’s there lunged a seven-foot mastodon in a baby-blue housecoat. She barreled down the steps toward me, mouthing insanities and swinging a wooden rolling-pin like a battleaxe.
‘That’s him! That’s him!’ she boomed. ‘Look! He’s got the child! He’s got the child!’
‘No ah haven’t! No ah haven’t!’ ah cried dumbly.
‘You want more, eh? You’ve come back for more? You want me to bash your pervertinizing brains in this time? I ain’t afraid of you! Sardus! Sardus! Where the blazes are you?’ she squawked. Ah looked back again and the woman had stopped chasing me and was dabbing at Beth’s face with a corner of her housecoat. Beth struggled and squirmed.
‘What did he do, child? What did the nasty man do to you? Answer me, child! Did he touch you? Answer me! Where did he touch you?’
Ah ran and ran and did not stop even when ah passed the city limits sign at the south entrance to the town. No one followed me, but ah had a feeling this incident was not over yet.
At last ah came upon a bridge. Hallis Crossing. It was many years since ah had been there. Each side of the bank was clogged with a thickly-knitted briar of wild rose. Ah unsheathed mah sickle and set to work.
Here ah am, in all mah pain, in all mah suffering, going unner, out of life, down to death. And ah’ll tell you this much – this dying hurts. It does, it pains – yet – and yet – in spite of all the punishment of mind and body and all the rest, yes in spite of it all, you know, ah have to smile, yes ah do, why sometimes ah can’t help smiling in the face of it all.
Ah mean, all this wrath and reprobation heaped upon us from on high, all the displays of consummate malice and wanton cruelty, of hot displeasure, all that God, in his seemingly irrational, injudicious, outrageous magistracy does unload upon our sad and giddy planet is – why, this is just a front. Deep down God has a heart as big as a barn. Ah know. Ah’ve talked with him.
On the other hand, exactly what the reasoning is behind our earthly sufferance is as much a mystery to me as ah’m sure it is to you. Ah mean, what is the process by which God arrives at a decision to, say, take all the water from place A and dump it on place B? What? Ah’m asking you. If it is not meted out according to the zeal with which we go about our Godly pursuits, which we can safely say it is not, then what is it? Ah wonder. What goes on up there? What measures the affliction? What weighs the iron? Is it a chance system? A roulette wheel? Is that where the die got its name? Or is there a pattern? Something invented ante-creation, something seasonal, something astrological? Why was the diluvian technique employed in the first recorded wholesale extermination? Was God taking a bath? Ah’m asking you. Or was there first the system and then the creation? Is the system mathematical? Is it numerical? Or maybe alphabetical? ‘Today is ‘P’ day – widespread Pestilence, some Pogroms, a variety of Plagues, a Purge and a Prickly Pear…’ Soon ah will know – when death has finally overcome me – when ah am out of reach of life – when there is no chance of me returning – yes, then all will be revealed.
The night moved in on Hallis Crossing and ah squatted beneath the bolted beams of the bridge, listening to the shifting of its wood, the. shifting of the waters, while the air got serious around me. The moon was a steely prong stabbed into a sky as black and untried as the chambers of a dead nun’s heart. The moon was trying to rattle me and it had chosen the right night to do it. There was an indisputable aura of imminent catastrophe in its attitude – the way it was so carelessly perched in its invisible sling, supramundane and to mah eyes top-heavy, this sickle moon, top-heavy and tilting over as if the slightest disturbance would topple it from its heavenly roost and send it crashing down upon me. The reservoir of courage that ah’d had cause to milk so frequently on this day had all but dried up – the last brave drops spent on getting me through the raking brambles of the briar.
Ah had looped mah belt over a bridge beam and lowered mahself down, knowing ah had gone about it in the wrong way at about the same time as ah realized ah could not turn back again. It was too dark and the briar seemed deeper than ah had at first thought. Denser. Thornier. Mah belt wasn’t long enough. Or strong enough. Or was it that ah was too heavy, what with mah many burdens, mah mass of troubles, mah great whacking load of woe? Anyway ah’d taken a tumble in the wild roses and found mahself sprawled on the bank of the cloacal rivulet, free of the clawing snagglepatch, but with mah body, face, hands and neck a feast of tiny bubbling welts and scratches. Crawling unner the bridge ah took off mah jacket and trousers and spent some time in silence plucking the angry thorns that had become embedded in their fabric, in mah flesh.
‘If there was a thorn for every time that ah have died today,’ ah thought, ‘a thorn for every time that they have killed me, the world would be one big briar patch.’ And ah sighed a sigh so deeply wrought, so full of despair, so full of grief, yes, so fucking bloody sad, that ah was forced to say to mahself,’ Steady up there, Euchrid, steady up. Stay brave. You’re safe now. No one can get you here. No one can hurt you here. Chin up. Everything will turn out all right in the end.’
And ah guess the sluice-gates on some other reservoir opened up, and wearily and with many deep and draining sighs ah cried and cried and in time ah fell asleep upon the bank of that filthy little creek. And just before mah dreamtime crowded in ah remember thinking that some very bad moments were yet to be lived. Some good ones too, maybe, but most of all ah remember thinking that there were some very bad moments heading for me, close and coming fast, bad moments demanding to be lived.
Ah dreamed ah was a carpenter. The best carpenter in town. One day ah made a great cross and carried it up a hill all alone. The sun was hot and a warm wind blew, bringing the hue and cry of the townsfolk to mah ears. Ah turned to see many people young and old clambering toward me. Ah hoisted the great cross onto mah back and ran on up the hill.
There ah met a harlot who was digging a hole and when ah asked her what she was trying to unearth she told me nothing ah am burying the sins of the world. Ah looked in the hole and saw only a blood-brushed glove and ah reached in and took it out and she said lie down. Ah lay down on mah cross and she undressed me. She pulled thorns from mah flesh. She covered mah body in lavender saying that she must prepare me and draped mah loins in her own pink nightdress. Still the crowd grew closer. She hammered me on. Then she jammed mah cross in the hole and ah hung there absorbed in mah own tin
y pain.
When ah opened mah eyes the crowd were all about me. Each person was dressed in a robe, with a crown of thorns and five wounds. Too many Christs and not enough crosses, ah thought, panicking.
They pulled me off, all fighting for a position on the cross. It groaned beneath their weight, and ah grew angry.
It is mah cross, ah cried, and the people all ran away. Ah produced a giant saw and knelt by the cross. Ah started sawing. A few paces to mah right ah saw another cross, the same, and ah began to saw it. Then another. And another. Until ah had sawed through four mainstems.
‘But why, Euchrid? I am your own father. Why?’ said a voice.
Ah looked up and saw Pa sitting up in his water-tower.
‘Why?’ he asked again. And me with the goddamn saw in mah hand.
And the tower collapsed and Pa crashed to the ground.
Then, with a weird clonic spluttering, Pa threw up the ghost – a coiling heap of ectoplasm from which a wraith-like being arose. Free of the fetters of mortality, old Pa’s ghost flew about the room – we were inside the shack now, ah was seated at the table – and with arms waving all about, he dipped and swooped around me.
Then he floated over to the table and drew a chair right up close to me and for the first time in his life Pa didn’t reek of pitch or grease. He smelt instead of… nothing, the stuff of the revenant.
‘Ah want you to concentrate. Ah want you to try and unnerstand. Ah want you to listen with both your ears and try and unnerstand,’ he began. Ah could see right through him. Ah could.
‘Once there was a rottenness residing in our home. A malign evil that ah could feel spreading through our little house on the hill like a poison thing. It was not always there, y’unnerstand? There was a time when our home was a happy one and we were content, your Ma and me.
‘The first time ah noticed the stench of this rottenness was in your mother, years ago. You were not born yet, in fact Ma was big with you and your brother. Did you know you had a twin brother? Oh yes. God’s truth. Only lived one day. Just closed his eyes and passed over to the other side – this side.’