Rails Under My Back (80 page)

Yes indeedy.

Why is it, brothers and sisters, that we don’t thank him?

Why?

I say, why is it that we don’t thank him?

The congregation waited in silence.

I’ll tell you why.

Tell us.

I said, I’ll tell you why.

Tell us!

Cause we are blind!

You said it.

I say we are blind.

Yes we are.

All things were made by him and without him was not any thing made that was made. But the world knows him not.

Tell it, brother.

It don’t know him.

I said, he is in the world and the world was made by him but the world knows him not!

That’s right, brother!

Did not Eve taste the sweet red skin of the apple?

Yes she did.

Did not Eve taste the sweet red skin of the burning apple?

Yes she did.

Why did she bite of the forbidden fruit?

Why?

What drew her lips to fire?

Tell us.

She thought she was safe in the garden. Did she not see the bloody footprints of the first remorseless soul thief?

No!

Yes, the Snake was in Eden before Adam.

You said it, brother!

Just like today. The Snake is here today.

I see him.

I said just like today!

Yes!

Hiding in the apple like an innocent worm. Isn’t that always how he is? Satan waits in the shadows engineering his horrible plans.

Oh life is sweet!

Engineering his horrible plan to destroy the Lord Christ.

Sin!

So what did Eve do? Eve ate the worm-wet apple. And she knew she had done wrong. Yes, I say she knew she had sinned, for the devil’s spit embittered the sweet waters of life.

Yes it did.

And Death stretched its dark wings over the land. God put Adam out of the garden. I said, Gawd—the boy preacher was humming the words, singing them—evicted Adam from the garden. Gawd looked at him and said, My son, I said, my son-on-on, you shall bear children the rest of your days.

Yes he did.

Bear children the rest of yo natural bawn days.

Yes he did!

And you know what? Brothers and sisters, we are all Adam in that garden.

We know it.

We are all sinners.

Um huh.

I am telling you that we all are sinners, so don’t you ever think you can walk away from sin.

No.

I said, don’t you ever think you can hop free of sin!

No, Lord.

The New Cotton Rivers began to hop around the stage, robe sleeves curved like a double-headed ax. He hopped back to the microphone. After all, how far can an apple fall?

A thunder of clapping hands.

I say, how far can an apple fall?

Preach!

The Lord says, The soul is a charioteer.

That’s right, brother!

Preach.

The soul is a charioteer. See these two muscled arms—the New Cotton Rivers raised his thick curved robe sleeves like threatening scimitars—driving two horses, driving two horses. And you know what, brothers and sisters?

What?

One is ignoble—

Say it.

—and the other noble. I said, one is ignoble and the other righteous!

You said it!

The righteous learn to stay the hands of Satan.

Yes they do.

The righteous know that good and evil square off every moment.

Yes they do.

The righteous will fight for the big prize.

Fight!

Cause the children of light are wiser than the children of the earth.

Yes they are.

And the Lord tells us, Everyman is my name.

Everyman.

Everyman-an-an is my name!

Everyman!

In every breast my father planted the seed of me. A small seed so that you may gender gain and grow to seek salvation.

Tell it!

Don’t lie!

Gain and grow-ow-ow to seek out your Lawd, huh!

Yes!

So place your salvation at the feet of Gawd, huh! Place your salvation at the feet of Gawd. Place your salvation at the feet of the Lord, who can wipe your sins away, huh! Cause your soul-oh-oul dangles over the licking fires of hell, huh! I said your heels-eels-eels pull away from the scorching fingers of hell, huh!

Yes, brother! Yes!

Take him, you wretched for good.

Take him, you starved for food.

Take him, you thirsty for your cooling stream.

Take him for your joyful theme.

Lay your complaints at his bosom.

Put your burdens on his breathing chest.

If you will walk in Grace’s heavenly road, he’ll make you free.

If you walk the righteous path you’ll know

Gawd is the only stability.

That’s right, brother! That’s right!

Because his power brings you power, and your Lord is still the Lord, huh! Give your life to the Lord; give your faith to the Lord; raise your hands-ands-ands to the Lord.

The church exploded in deafening applause. Porsha put both hands firmly on the pew in front of her.

The New Cotton Rivers raised his robe sleeves and dropped silence. His eyes opened terror-wide in farseeing vision.

Moses lifted up a people and tore a nation bawling and bleeding out of Pharaoh’s side.

Yes he did.

What could ole Pharaoh say?

What?

What could ole Pharaoh do?

Nothing!

Cause Moses had fire in his head and a cloud in his mouth, huh! I say, Moses led the pilotage of a whole people, of an entire race, through the quicksands and breakers of spiritual degradation, led them-em-em, huffing and puffing, up to the plane of righteousness, huh!, led them-em-em up that mountain salvation-high, huh!, high and calculated to heighten the pulse and quicken the brain, huh!, led them to cool soul-cleansing clouds, cool to the sweat of a hot brow, for the soul’s-ole-ole’s salvation is hard work which calls for the coolest head, huh! So do not fear Satan, the Prince of the Power of Air, I say do not fear Satan, for God is the true power, Gawd-awd-awd, the sun radiating out the palm of his hand, huh!, Gawd-awd-awd lifts all, huh! And know ye that neither the terror that flies by day nor the terror that walks by night shall overtake us.

The congregation rose from their seats, their praising hands blurred with speed, quick dizzy machines. Arms raised and extended like an Olympic diver, head thrown back, face lifted to the heavens, the New Cotton Rivers saw, and seeing, made the world shine. The brightness caused Porsha to shut her eyes for a moment. She felt a power, growing from the nexus of her belly button and radiating bright streams through the entire length of her body.

Gawd put reason in the head like the stars and planets in heaven!

Yes he did!

He put the passion in the heart and the heart in the chest like angels in the air!

The congregation stamped their feet.

He put worldliness in the kidneys, worldliness in the intestines, and worldliness in the abdomen like he put man on the earth.

The organ hit a heavy beat.

But the Good Book call chillun a gift from the Lord, huh!

The church grew suddenly hot. Porsha crossed her legs and her skirt stretched, revealing smooth brown thighs. She drew her skirt down like a shade. Her breasts shifted about in her blouse. She could feel her insides kicking out, kicking with guiltless violence, furious at the cramped heat. Then the church started to rock, tossed, a hot biscuit in cool hands.

Years have rolled on, and tens of thousands have been borne on streams of blood and tears to the shores of eternity. Years have—

Porsha felt the rocking increase steadily around her, gearing up, preparation.

For out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks.

A wave rose from her stomach to her lips. Rafters arrowed into the black sky. Water came.

STRONG-BLOODED, he quickens to the challenge. Rears back against the sharp veil. Constricts. Thickens. Cuts deeper. His throat swells. Once twice three times thicker than each cord of the veil. Forces his soft dry tongue—the tongue of a parched traveler—through hard dry teeth. Lashes along his body, lines, red paths that cut in all directions. And up above, way up, beyond and through the starlight-fine—

Sharp horns curve through the drawn curtain. He wakes with a sour taste in his mouth, like metal. Hot steel pokes from his pajama fly. He raises himself to the bed edge and sits in thin sharp light, he and the bed one. The pillowcases and sheets clean and new and scented with the fragrance of fresh powder. (Sometime last night before he’d retired, Sheila had entered his room and changed the linen.) The sheet smell, the early morning quiet, and the green trees waiting outside the window bring back West Memphis. Movement plays at the edge of his vision. He looks up to discover a mobile spinning in silent space. Half-moons tracking new half-moons, turning new sickles of light. A long apple peel that spirals the round rhythm of Elsa’s walk. Turns Elsa’s hot image over and over in his stewed skull.

A mobile? Where had it come from? Sheila had placed it there. That was the only possible answer.

He washed and dressed quickly. Left his room and filled the hall with his voice. Sheila! Sheila! No answer. He banged on her closed bedroom door, banged against blind wood behind which Sheila and Lucifer shared their bed. Sheila! Sheila!

He hurried downstairs to the kitchen, almost expecting to find Lucifer standing above the round table. Expecting to see him drink his coffee in six scorching swallows, jam four slices of toast down his throat then rush out the house.

Sheila! He waited. Let the words carry. Sheila! Sheila!

White paper beckoned to him from the refrigerator door:

Damn!

He returned to his room, stuffed a carefully chosen assortment of compact discs, cassettes, and books into Mr. Pulliam’s green army bag, and quit the house.

Knife-edged. Everything sharp, brilliant in the light. Cooler than yesterday. But less breeze. The air soft under hurrying clouds. (Hard to believe this the city of icy lake wind.) Birds drew heavy lines on the sky and the sky swayed with their loud noisy weight. A bird broke the line and dropped, stunned to the porch. Deceived, it had flown into the porch window that held the sky’s reflection. Damn. He wanted to kick the red bloody thing but his shoes refused. His feet required motion.

A radio whined on the horizon.

Somebody’s bustin Jimi, he said. Somebody’s bustin Jimi.

He danced, marched to the beat, both asleep and awake. (John said that grunts learned to snooze between footfalls.)

He had sat up most of the night and watched dawn define the city with disconcerting swiftness. Sat, wavering between one plan and the next, his thoughts like loose shots. In the morning, he would ride out to Eddyland to see if John’s cab was parked in his driveway. Check the garage. Break into it if he had to. An image floated up and remained like stagnant water in his memory: Jesus’s teeth marks in the leather dashboard of John’s gold Park Avenue. The shape of anger and absence. He would ride to Union Station and talk to T-Bone. Better yet, he would return to Red Hook and—

He tries to recall the plan now, a course of action as sure and certain as a man-made river. That river had dried up and evaporated in his sleep. He can see and feel it around him, ticker tape on cool city wind. In the city today, everything is new: hotels, clubs, restaurants, stores, and the buildings that house them, streets and the markers that name them. New. He can find few spots he knew only a few days ago. He remembers the city small and unreal inside the small square window, like a miniature model of itself. He remembers slow descending circles.

The roar of the engine brought a hot flush of relief. He was leaving Memphis, the South, for good. The plane taxied. Pure speed. The rush of takeoff. Try as he might, he could not help grinning broadly, broad as the plane’s wingspan. Pure speed and the plane lifting into the air. He kept his open eyes trained out the small square window. Amazing how the large world shrinks in seconds. The plane found its altitude, leveled off, settled, cruised. Its shadow rippled over the white clouds like a black twin. A plane in flight offers the illusion of stationary life. You don’t see motion. Your body feels it. And when you do see the motion, you act under the illusion that the plane flies slowly. White and distant, the sky moves and remains. This surprising lesson flew home with him.

Memphis last night and the city this morning. He had few facts but many feelings. There remained no trace of the former wish to see and save. The old desire like an early dream from distant centuries. No will to pursue and no fear of being pursued. Faith and intuition were both useless. What was left? A sense of flying longing. John had sailed off the edge of the world. Lucifer and Jesus had followed him. Not the smallest part of their existence reached him this morning.

ABU PEERED THROUGH THE ANGLE OF OPEN DOOR with yellow eyes, eyes topaz from the smoke of Boy Scout campfires.

Damn, nigga. Why yo eyes so yellow?

What? Abu rubbed them, his round belly bouncing once, twice.

You still sleep or somethin?

Nawl. I was—Smokin some weed?

Ain’t had none in a while. So you back in town?

Nawl. I’m still gone.

Funny. Real funny.

We got in last night.

Good. Abu looked like he wanted to say more. He didn’t.

So, what’s up?

Oh, same ole. Hey, you know the concert still on?

What?

Spin.

Word?

Abu nodded.

Man, I had forgot all about that.

They canceled it last night because of the flood. Now it’s tonight.