The Brunist Day of Wrath: A Novel (128 page)

The big Blaurock woman was whumping around the Meeting Hall in her elephantine way, in and out of Clara’s old office, fat baby under one arm, shouting out commands and commentary, and wishing to avoid her, Bernice asked if she could see Glenda before she left and Calvin brought her down here to the old trailer lot where Glenda is living in a cluster of old vehicles with all the children, together with a handful of other people who escaped from the Mount, mostly women. Glenda’s own two caravans were stolen, but whoever took them thankfully dumped out everything before they drove off, including most of the children’s toys, and they left behind the small house trailer belonging to those two West Virginia miners who never came back, and that’s where Glenda is living, as well as in some abandoned cars and trucks, set about in a kind of circle the way settlers used to do on the prairie. She and Glenda now sit amid them, swatting at the mosquitoes. Bernice says she saw that Blaurock family up by the lodge, acting like they own the place. “Well, they don’t let nothing nor nobody get in their way,” Glenda says, “but the camp wouldn’t work without them. Isaiah, he goes out every day and forages for food and soda pops and other useful things. Dot, she has found a post office box key in Clara’s old office and has pointed herself the church treasurer and is writing to the faithful, asking for money. And her kids is out peddling souvenir stuff they have found in there that didn’t burn up in the fire, old letters and tape recordings and suchlike, even somebody’s diary, and including, they say, some dirty pitchers them two boys was hoarding, which her little girl sold for enough to buy carryout pizza last night for everybody. It was a kinda party after all the misery. The little girl called it their nek-kid bottoms party on account of the pitchers that paid for it. Clara, she would never have ’lowed that, but most everybody thought it was cute and give her a big clapping. They were too hungry not to. They ain’t nothing left to eat here. They have harvested the vegetable garden right down to the dandylines and crab grass and killt alla Hunk Rumpel’s chickens, and they have cooked up a great many of the wild birds and small animals. They have even et the owls.”

“I took notice it was quieter than usual.”

“Sister Debra would be horrified at the slaughter, but she always did care more for birds than people. Isaiah also brings back whatever newspapers he finds, and Dot, she digs through them, looking for other end-of-the-worlders. She says she’s found a feller up in Canada who’s got it all figured out, so they’re laying plans to migrate up there and invade that movement, and they are inviting everyone along.”

“Will you go?”

“I don’t know what choice I got.” Glenda fixes her with her one eye and a little shiver runs up her spine. There’s a faint breezy rustling all about even though the air seems still and she can’t help thinking about the ghosts of Hazel Dunlevy and Welford Oakes fluttering about somewhere nearby. With the lights out and the birds dead, it must be a spooky place here at night.

She tells Glenda what she has seen at the hospital and around town—all those downtown buildings full of the spirits of the recent dead, the shoe salesman still swinging in his window—and about how she and the head nurse at the hospital saved Mr. Suggs from being murdered by the motorcycle gang led by the naked Baxter girl. She is taking care of Mr. Suggs now privately, and thanks to her miracle water, he is much improved. The doctors are all amazed. “He is setting up and eating normal and don’t need diapers no more. Even his hair is growing back on top of his head—and it’s red as a carrot.”

Several of Glenda’s collection of little ones have arrived, complaining that they’re hungry, and that reminds her that she has to go find Calvin to drive her back; it’s Mr. Suggs’ feeding time. She fishes about in her shoulder bag and finds half a packet of cough lozenges and she passes those out to the children, promising to come back with more things. Just as she’s about to leave, however, Glenda takes a grip on her hand and turns it over, palm up, and studies it, her head cocked so the eye stares straight at it as if shooting a beam into it, and it feels almost like it is burning. She flinches, but Glenda has a tight grip. “I suppose people have told you, Bernice, about your head line and your life line and how little luck there is between them, but I wonder if they have showed you the line of escape, sometimes called the line of fancy, running crosstways down here near your wrist?” The children are crowding around to look. They seem quite dangerous. “Not everybody’s got one, but yours is plain to see, like to say it’s a powerful influence on your nature. People with lines like that, they oft-times have arty lives, but when it crosses the health line like this…” she traces a line with a long horny fingernail from Bernice’s fingers to her wrist and the sensation is that of being cut open, “they can lose control and end badly.”

Bernice’s heart is pounding. All she wants is to have her hand back and to leave this fiendish place immediately. “Badly…?”

Glenda turns her eye up to stare it at her, still gripping the hand, her gold tooth glinting in the dusky light. “A fatal confusion of the spirit,” she says, and Bernice feels her knees go wobbly. “Madness.”

“I am sorry to have to tell you, Mr. Suggs, but something evil has got into the Wilderness church camp. It is infested with the ghosts of murdered sinners and a brood of filthy-minded imps and a cannibal witch who is one of them cyplops with just one eye. Wherever she walks a fire breaks out behind her and they’s no more birdsong because she aims her evil eye into the trees and the birds they fall like rain. Even the owls. Murderers are lurking out at the edge, and worse things, too, if you could see them, but there’s like a thick smoky cloud has sunk down over the camp with a rotten smell like the Devil makes. And Sheriff Puller, he’s come back, but he is blind and walks rocking back and forth the way dead people who crawl out of their graves do. Ben Wosznik has been doing all he can, praying and fighting and singing, but he is badly wounded in the thigh and we don’t know if he will live or die. I was able to doctor it, but it is a ugly wound and has got infected and we fret for him in the secret service. Clara and her daughter, they have fell into a kind of coma trance, which is that evil cyplop’s doing, and many people are losing their minds or are in fear of losing their minds. I wisht I had better news, but fear and trembling has got holt of me, and I am glad that we are safe here and far from all that sad desolation.”

As the days pass and Bernice recovers from her scare at the church camp, she repents of the darkness that overtook her history and begins to move it in a happier direction, telling Mr. Suggs that Ben is much better, thanks mainly to her miracle water; that Clara and Elaine have waked up from their deep sleep though they’re still very weak, it being said that it was the spirit of Ely Collins who came back and kissed them both that broke the spell; and that Mr. Puller was only pretending to be a kind of zombie so as to escape his kidnappers. Too late for the birds, though. She is sorry about turning Glenda Oakes into a wicked cyplops, partly because that gives her more power than she deserves, and, hoping Mr. Suggs has forgotten what she said before, speaks of her instead as a cranky old woman who is losing her mind even as everyone else in the camp is getting theirs back. Crazy as she is, you can’t believe a thing she says.

Thinking of Glenda Oakes reminds her of her promise to Calvin Smith. On a day when the theropests come, she walks over to the Smith house to visit Lucy, stopping at the hospital first to fill up her shoulder bag. There she learns that Mr. Thornton has presented Maudie with a handsome little reward on behalf of Mr. Suggs, and also a gift for the hospital to help pay the costs of their emergency generator, and he is also arranging for a free load of coal for it to be delivered from Mr. Suggs’ mine. “He’s a real gentleman,” Maudie says, and they all thank Bernice for her part in it, and she accepts their thanks.

On her way across Main Street to Lucy’s house, she finds huge crowds gathered to watch cranes lift the fallen helicopter down off the bar and grill roof, and she tells Lucy about this when she arrives. “Folks had got climated to it and booed when it come down and cheered when it tipped sideways suddenly and busted one of its fan blades.” She finds Lucy more distracted and nervous than before, and there is a big lump on her forehead, but she says she is feeling better and only needs a few good nights’ sleep. Bernice tells her she has brought her some pills to help with that, and also some miracle water to put on the lump and make it go away; Lucy takes some pills right away and wets some cotton with the miracle water and holds it against her brow and they sit down for some cookies and a chat, Lucy saying that she can already feel the lump going down and apologizing that she only has an electric percolator, so she can’t make coffee.

Bernice fills her in on the rescue of Mr. Suggs and her errand of mercy at the church camp, adding a few details that Lucy might appreciate, and Lucy tells her how the Piccolotti boy went blind saving her life and Calvin’s—“He seemed to fly way up in the air and catch the dynamite and throw it back at the bomber all in one single motion, and that was the last thing I saw!”—and how Junior Baxter apparently murdered the Tebbetts boy and maybe some others as well because he got caught with the gun in his pocket still hot from being fired, and how Calvin, who is the most peaceful and honest person in the world, is being blamed for helping some of the people who are now being charged with murder and may get put in jail himself. “He says that Vince Bonali’s mean boy, who is known more for breaking the law than keeping it, wants his job and is out to get him and that Italian city manager fellow is helping him.”

The strangest story, though, is that of finding two more bodies buried out at the state park, two missing young people whose parents thought they must have eloped, and also a severed head and two feet, though the feet had been mostly eaten up by animals. Naturally, everybody thought the head would be Nat Baxter’s missing one, but it turned out to be his younger brother’s instead. Had both brothers been beheaded? What was going on? Then they remembered that Junior Baxter, when he was arrested, kept saying that the masked biker gan-gleader with “Kid Rivers” on his jacket was really his brother Nat, so now a nationwide manhunt for Kid Rivers
alias
Nat Baxter has begun. Or anyway that’s what Bernice supposes Lucy meant to say, for what she actually says is “…s’crazy…notion…kid…ers…” and her eyes cross and she falls fast asleep while she’s still talking, such that when Calvin comes home a few moments later, he finds his wife sprawled out on the floor snoring. He smiles and calls Bernice a miracle-worker and a heroine.

Bernice’s first and most enduring life model was Martha, who labored quietly in the kitchen when the Lord came to visit while her flirtatious sister sprawled idly at the Master’s feet to better show off her dinners, as her father’s rude miner friends sometimes called them, and of course Jesus, like all men, couldn’t get enough of her or of them, falling out of her half-buttoned blouse like fruit out of a tipped bowl, and He even scolded Martha when she complained that she could use some help setting the table. Though, yes, Bernice also did sometimes complain, she was a mostly polite and biddable child who always felt she was born to serve. The gratitude of others comforted her, even that of her unloving mother, and she knew before she was twelve years old that she was going to be a nurse. Over time, Bernice grew more interested in Miriam, who saved her baby brother Moses’ life and stood by him faithfully on their long arduous journey but who questioned his absolute authority, especially as she was his big sister, and as punishment got struck down with leprosy and eventually died, the point being, one, that she
did
question his authority and, two, her lifetime of loving service availed her little when she did. A lesson learned, which led her in turn to other less servile Bible women like Esther and Deborah, Jael and Judith, women of wealth and power, capable of guile and subterfuge but also of bold action like beheadings and driving tent stakes into bad men’s heads, even while pursuing selfless lives of service, and she has stitched a bit of each into the wardrobe by which she presents herself each day to the world.

It is these latter women who have guided her through her most recent trials in her care of Mr. Suggs. When they came to tell her that they were waiving bail and releasing her brother-in-law Lem because all the jails were full, she replied that she was very happy to hear it for she wishes to have him near to care for his needs, hoping only that his time in prison has tempered his violent nature, which he has used so often against her in times past. “Once when he got drunk,” she told them matter-of-factly, “he tried to press hisself on me and I had to fight him off with a skillet, and he said he’d cut me up and have me for dinner. Of course he probably didn’t mean it and things like that don’t happen all the time.” She said that, though he promised to shoot the fire chief and others at the fire station as soon as they let him out of jail, they shouldn’t worry because she has taken the caution to hide his guns and she won’t tell him where they are even if he beats her or tries to strangle her as he has done in the past, so where are the papers, she’ll be glad to sign them. They apologized and said they had decided to delay his release while they looked into his case more closely, and just to make sure she went to see the old sinner and told him she’d done all she could to try to get him set free, even told a few white lies, but there is somebody in the jail who doesn’t like him and is badmouthing him to the authorities and he should find out who it is and stand up for his rights, and she could tell by the expression on his face and the cusswords he used that he would not be coming home for a good while yet. Warrior types are easy pickings for the likes of Jael, Judith, and Bernice.

Mr. Thornton is smarter and wilier than Lem or those police people, so a different approach was necessary when the lawyer presented her with the trust documents. She knows that Mr. Suggs is a very rich man and that there is probably a way to get all that money herself, but she’s not smart enough, and the law is like a secret code she’ll never be able to cipher. So she needed the smooth tongue of a Rebecca or an Esther. She looked up a lot of words and memorized them as best she could, and when he came, she told him that Mr. Suggs could not accept such words as “unlimited” and “esclusive” and “perpintuity” and she took Mr. Thornton into the bedroom to show him that this was so, Mr. Suggs behaving admirably, especially the vigorous way he wagged his finger, though what he was saying was not exactly like her translation. Then they sat down in her front room for a frank discussion. She had dressed that morning like Queen Esther, in a fancy white blouse and a long dark satiny dress laced up the front like boots, with her hair braided and pinned up tightly and parted down the middle, drawing her eyebrows with a very slight frown to suggest a certain royal gravity and a troubled affection, and she could see that she had Mr. Thornton’s respect. She said she understood that, as Mr. Suggs had no known heirs, his wealth was being absorbed into Mr. Thornton’s law company so as not to let the bankers have it all. Maybe that’s the best thing, maybe it isn’t, but it was what was happening and she could accept it. If they wanted her help, however, she had two requests. One was that the trust provide a substantious gift to the Brunist church in the name of Mrs. Clara Collins-Wosznik, as this was probably Mr. Suggs’ own intention and it should be honored. Besides, it will help her persuade Mr. Suggs to give his approval. The other is that to care for Mr. Suggs and in such a way as to be useful to Mr. Thornton’s law company is a very difficult thing and she will need to be properly reinpursed. “I got a mortgage on this house. It’s not very big, you will laugh when I tell you, but with the garage burnt down and Lem in jail I am in rears and I may not be able to pay it. You know how cruel Mr. Cavanaugh is and how he is ruining this town and taking people’s houses away where they have lived all their lives. I don’t speak of myself, but if he took my house, where would Mr. Suggs go then? If Mr. Suggs can pay off that mortgage and cover my expenses as long as he lives, I am sure he will find it in his heart to agree to the trust.” “Is this Mr. Suggs’ request, Mrs. Filbert?” “It is my request, Mr. Thornton.” Mr. Thornton gave her a respectful look as though to acknowledge her wisdom and her courage and her acumen and after a moment he smiled. “Your needs will be met, Mrs. Filbert. The trust will continue to provide you a monthly stipend with enough extra to cover your mortgage payments, and when Mr. Suggs passes away, you will receive a lump sum payment of ten times the amount of the remaining mortgage due. My partners and I are very grateful for your kind and valuable assistance.” This was much more than she expected and she had to clench her jaws not to show her excitement. If Judith had shown her emotions, it would have been she who got her head chopped off, not Holofernes. When Mr. Thornton stood to go, he took her bony hand in his plump one and thanked her again; then he glanced tenderly toward Mr. Suggs’ bedroom and sighed. “The poor dear man. It is a terrible agony he is going through. And for what? It would almost be a mercy if he could peacefully pass on.”