The Castle Cross the Magnet Carter (87 page)

“Bad luck for him.”

Francis Veter laughs. “Bad luck for him.”

Every few minutes the Negro's shallow breathing seems to stop, giving Randall hope. But moments later the chest resumes rising ever so slightly, life stubbornly holding on. A few hours ago this was a whole man, a healthy man. Randall should have stayed home, to make sure Erma was alright. He should have told Francis Veter he couldn't have a drink tonight, how about tomorrow? And Francis Veter would have delayed the night hunting twenty-four hours, the Negro would've been found by his people, right now having his leg cast set at the colored hospital. Or after the chicken dinner Randall could have told Francis Veter I'm tired, can I take a rain check? Or after things got out of hand here Randall could have walked away, We make our choices, Francis Veter said. B.J. said that too not long ago, then hit Randall with a pillow.

“You shoulda been a lawyer.”

Randall glowers at Francis Veter.

“You been more n fair here, some uppity Yank coon. You were kinda the attorney for the defense.”

“I tried to drown him while you all went to the car.”

Francis Veter smiles, surprised. “That a fact?”

“Make no mistake. I ain't no better n you.” The Negro murmurs.

“Reggie's gonna be disappointed when I take those fingers from him. We gonna have to burn em to ashes with the rest.”

“We hangin him or burnin him?”

“Burn him. I jus sent em off, get em outa my hair a minute. Nope, all hangin do is leave the body more identifiable.” He takes a swig from the bottle he'd all but forgotten. “The river. Burn it, dump it. With the rains oughta be carried miles downstream, he might be swimmin on out to the Gulf a Mexico.” Frances Veter looks at the Negro's vehicle. “He gonna come up a missin person. But can't charge nobody for murder if there ain't a corpse. Even if they assume dead the crashed car proves it was an accident. By the time they find the body,
if
they find the body be so disfigured, so far away from the scene a the so-called crime ain't no one gonna make the connection, whatever they pull from the river headed straight to Potter's Field, anonymous.” The Negro utters something incomprehensible. “Well. Guess the party's almost over.” Francis Veter stands. He takes what's left of the whiskey, which isn't much, and pours it liberally over the body, then crashes the bottle by the head. The Negro barely flinches, the reaction delayed. Then Francis Veter drops his cigarette onto the torso and for a second it sparks a huge flame encompassing some of the Negro's face as well, the burning man mumbling inscrutable sounds while trying to roll over and douse the fire. “Look at him wiggle!” Francis Veter seems tickled pink. Randall's pyromaniac fantasies flash, he hopes the Negro and Francis Veter and the nephews and himself and the whole goddamn forest catch, end it all. But the fuel is minimal, and the fire dies out rapidly.

“This spade refuses to die!” Francis Veter laughs. “Gotta hand it to him, another spook been in nigger heaven hours ago.” He walks over and stoops, picks up the Negro's head to face himself. The eye that is open, blood-caked, stares blankly in the general direction of Francis Veter's chin. “Listen, since you ain't usin your car, you mind we siphon some a your gas? There's an object we need to burn. I'd use my own, but we bout to take ya on a little excursion in my truck.” The Negro doesn't respond. “I will take that as a yes. Thanks a lot, buddy.” Francis Veter lays the Negro's head down, and stands. “I gotta go find those knuckleheads, tell em they can stop searchin for a tree now.” He walks into the woods.

**

Crash!
glass Eliot's ear, brownhair walk into woods. Eliot sees glass rise. Eliot's mind glass rise floating, glass rise from the earth floating, brownhair come out of the woods glass slash brownhair throat blood, blood.

**

Randall sits near the Negro, gingerly placing the misshapen head on his lap, maternal. The world lighting up every few seconds, low rumble of thunder, and in the periodic light Randall takes his fingertips to wipe some of the blood from the Negro's burnt face. Eventually a flicker of life in the Negro's eye, appearing to see Randall.

“Sorry bout all this, fella. But it's almost over now, you gonna get to rest soon. An I'm bettin you been a righteous man, heaven awaits ya.” The Negro breathing softly, gazing at Randall. “Funny how life works out huh. We didn't even know each other till today an look how our destinies got all hooked.” And he leans over to give the Negro a gentle kiss on the cheek goodbye.

**

Eliot has seen the man before. Eliot sees two men,
Why your eye doin at?
asks Miss Onnie,
I'm cross-eyeded
Eliot has done this man a kindness, Eliot gave him the shoes. If he can get his mouth to tell him this white man can save him, then Eliot can go find the dentist and bring him back here and they can look for his teeth. He tries to speak but blood in his mouth like drowning. He puts his lips around the word, what teeth he has left, he pushes. He puts his lips around the word, he pushes: “Shoes.”

**

The tenderness in Randall's face starts to fade. It's coming back to him. The lawyer from the jail. The goddamn nigger lawyer from the jail who treated him like trash! Randall drops the nigger and stands, takes a step back.
This
is who he's been trying to help all night, spare the torment? And why's he bring the fucking shoes up
now?
One final Fuck you? Randall's breath is heavy and slow and then he is bellowing, “Bastard! Fuckin arrogant nigger, you think I
needed
your shoes? Goddamn used shoes from a filthy, smelly nigger, fuck you!” Randall kicks the Negro in the face, his body sailing a few feet into the air, more teeth flying. After he lands Randall snatches him by the shoulders, face to face, Randall shaking in fury, shaking the Negro. “Listen you. I shouldn't be kickin a man when he's down, but other people's got a right to exist too. Lawyer!”

And with a shard of glass from the bottle crashed near his head, the Negro slashes Randall, a diagonal starting at the base of his ear, down his cheek, and across his throat. Randall drops the body, grabs his own neck. Blood.

“Oh my God.” Randall speaks quietly. The man's near dead, the cut shallow, and yet. “Oh my God, now you tryin to kill me.” Randall stares at him incredulous. “Oh my God, I been strivin to help you all night one way or the other and
I'm
the one you—” He stares at the Negro's left hand that assaulted him,
hates
the Negro's left hand Why didn't Francis Veter let Louis amputate those fingers too? And, just beyond the left hand, Randall sees Louis's shotgun. Randall walks over, snatches it, and brings the barrel against the Negro's temple. “Nothin I done tonight been anything but merciful to you, I was your
only friend.
” Tears flowing down Randall's cheeks.

**

Daddy's a Porter Daddy carries the peoples' suitcases, Eliot steps into the train, see little Jordan walking up to his attorney: “How do you do!” Mr. A. Philip Randolph walking out of the barn the Dream Man walking in, Mr. Randolph points his finger at Dwight and Eliot in the hay: “Uncle Sam wants
you.
” Andi tells a joke in Didi's ear, Didi cracking up doubling over, “No more! You're
killin
me!” There's a rabbit in the coffin! says Jeanine, the little coffin flies open and Roy jumps up, arms spread all showman: “Pencil-VANIA!” Miss Onnie feeding the birds Miss Onnie saved Parker's life, “Sweatin like a nigger in court,” says Beau in the passenger seat Eliot and Mama in the coal mountain they grin black teeth Hahahaha Steven basketball-shoots his paper lands on Eliot's hand Aunt Amy's orange hand
Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition
“Useful Tips When Confronted by Southern Hospitality”
by Winston Douglas, Esq. Dwight and Eliot and Parker make the snow angels Diana sleds down the hill, “Optimism, Eliot! Optimism!”

And suddenly Eliot's mind is perfectly clear. A month from now, and he is setting the table with Dwight, this first Thanksgiving since their mother died, he and Dwight promised to be with their father. Eliot gazes at Dwight, remembering how good Dwight was to their mother, always staying close to home. Remembering how much Dwight always wanted Eliot to love him, all he ever wanted from his little brother, and Eliot wants to talk to Dwight. Dwight his brother, Eliot
will
talk to him, Dwight is placing the fork and the knife on the table and even if it hurts to speak with just a few teeth Eliot will enunciate and Dwight will understand, his brother will understand Eliot will talk to his brother and now Dwight senses Eliot's eyes on him and Dwight looks up.

**

“Oh my God.”

Randall slowly turns to the voice. A deadening silence. Francis Veter and the boys have come out of the woods The world has no sound Vacuum Nothing.

“Oh my God,” Francis Veter repeats, “you blew his fuckin brains out!”

Randall turns back to Eliot. “I didn't hear it.”

“You didn't
hear
it? KA-BOOM!” Francis Veter laughs. “We come back just in time, caught his lass word.” Francis Veter affects a tiny, mocking voice. “‘Why?' and you answered: KA-BOOM! Shook the whole damn countryside!” The boys stare, awestruck. Randall looks at Francis Veter, considers what he has said, then turns back to Eliot.

“I think he said ‘Dwight.'”

“Dwight? Who's Dwight?”

A moment. “Somebody he knows.”

Francis Veter scratches his head. “No, I think he said ‘Why.' Unless. Maybe he was callin on the president. That's it, askin ole Ike for a stay a execution!” Francis Veter cracks up, a hearty laugh Randall had not previously heard from him. Fireflies everywhere, dancing to the beat of the crickets. Why hadn't Randall noticed them till now?

“Maybe he said ‘Die,'” Reggie proposes. “Like he was tryin to put some voodoo hex on ya. ‘
Die,
white man,
die!
'”

Randall hears more laughter, Randall's eyes on the lightning bugs fluttering around what's left of Eliot's head. “I think he said ‘Dwight.'”

“Well whatever he said, time to go on a little trip now. Boys? Everything we come with, put it back in the truck. I don't care if it's a eensy bit a brick got loose,
every
thing.” Francis Veter begins picking up items with the nephews.

“What if he's not dead?” Randall puts his right hand on Eliot's chest. Nothing.

“Not
dead?
You blew half his face off!” Francis Veter laughs. The boys giggle. “Louis, lee me that rope, we gonna need it. Reggie, take this pile to the truck an bring back a coupla them burlap potata sacks.” Randall sits cross-legged next to Eliot.

“Hey Uncle Francis, I found a tooth. Can I keep it? Souvenir?”

“Why ontchu start strippin him?” Francis Veter suggests to Randall. “Don't think we need to burn the body now since ain't much face left, but still gotta destroy the clothes an easier gettin em off now before he go stiff.”

“Can I keep the tooth, Uncle Francis?”

Francis Veter shakes his head. “Sorry, Louis, it ain'tcher granddaddy's day no more. That tooth ain't no souvenir, it's evidence.”

“But Reggie gets to keep the fingers!”

“Yeah I gotta talk to him about that. You missed a brick over there.”

“What if he's not dead?” Randall puts his right hand on Eliot's chest. Nothing.

“Uncle Francis.” Louis swallows, grasping for the words. “Tonight. It's like a dream. I feel like I'll wake up tomarra it won't seem real, I want somethin to keep it real.”

Francis Veter is moved by his older nephew's earnestness. “Listen. You take that tooth, this what we do. We gonna bury it deep in a secret place later tonight, the fingers too, you, me an Reggie. An you boys jus gotta remember where we put em. For the future. Think you can handle that?” Louis smiles through his glistening eyes.

Eliot's corpse is drenched in blood, mind-boggling to think a body could ever hold so much blood. Randall unbuttons his own flannel shirt. He puts his right hand on Eliot's chest, his fingers spread. Then brings his palm onto his own bare chest, a red imprint of his hand in Eliot's blood.

Francis Veter, sensitive that this may all seem strange to Randall, rips Eliot's garments off himself. What's left under the clothing seems negligibly human.

“Here's the sacks, Uncle Francis.” Reggie is startled momentarily by the shape on the ground.

Francis Veter pulls one burlap bag over Eliot's upper body, the other over his lower. “Wish I had a saw. Be easier to dispose of, piece by piece.”

“Hey Uncle Veter I found his ball. You wannit?”

“Jus drop it in here.” He opens the sack, and Louis drops Eliot's testicle in with the rest of his body. Francis Veter takes the rope and ties it tight around the sacks, then flings Eliot's shroud over his shoulder and trudges toward the truck. The boys follow. Randall is last. Francis Veter throws Eliot in the bed of the truck, covering the corpse completely with bricks, then gets behind the wheel, the nephews hopping in the back with Eliot. Before getting in, Randall shines the flashlight on the spot where he, Francis Veter, Louis, Reggie, and Eliot spent the last three hours. The owl from the woods has already swooped down to pick at the remains of the body and the blood and the brains. Then several owls appear out of nowhere. They're usually territorial birds, but occasionally form colonies. A parliament of owls, Randall remembers that from sixth grade. A herd of cattle, a flock of geese, a tribe of monkeys, a murder of crows. A bevy of niggers, Francis Veter said.