The Dark-Thirty

by Patricia McKissack

  “But I’m gon’ try!” Lester spent the rest of the night plotting his escape from fate.

  “I won’t eat or drink anything all day,” he talked himself through his plan. “That way I can’t choke, die of food poisoning, or cause a cooking fire.”

  Lester shut off the space heater to avoid an explosion, nailed shut all doors and windows to keep out intruders, and unplugged every electrical appliance. Good weather was predicted, but just in case a freak storm came and blew out a window, shooting deadly glass shards in his direction, he moved a straight-backed chair into a far corner, making sure nothing was overhead to fall on him.

  “I’ll survive,” he said, smiling at the prospect of beating Death. “Won’t that be a wonderful story to tell at the porter house?” He rubbed his left arm. It felt numb again.

  Lester sat silently in his chair all day, too afraid to move. At noon someone knocked on his door. He couldn’t answer it. Footsteps … another knock. He didn’t answer.

  A parade of minutes passed by, equally measured, one behind the other, ticking … ticking … away … The dull pain in his chest returned. He nervously checked his watch every few minutes.

  Ticktock, ticktock.

  Time had always been on his side. Now it was his enemy. Where had the years gone? Lester reviewed the thirty years he’d spent riding the rails. How different would his life have been if he’d married Louise Henderson and had a gallon of children? What if he’d taken that job at the mill down in Opelika? What if he’d followed his brother to Philly? How different?

  Ticktock, ticktock.

  So much living had passed so quickly. Lester decided if he had to do it all over again, he’d stand by his choices. His had been a good life. No regrets. No major changes for him.

  Ticktock, ticktock.

  The times he’d had—both good and bad—what memories. His first and only love had been traveling, and she was a jealous companion. Wonder whatever happened to that girl up in Minneapolis? Thinking about her made him smile. Then he laughed. That girl must be close to seventy years old by now.

  Ticktock, ticktock.

  Daylight was fading quickly. Lester drifted off to sleep, then woke from a nightmare in which, like Jonah, he’d been swallowed by an enormous beast. Even awake he could still hear its heart beating … ticktock, ticktock … But then he realized he was hearing his own heartbeat.

  Lester couldn’t see his watch, but he guessed no more than half an hour had passed. Sleep had overtaken him with such little resistance. Would Death, that shapeless shadow, slip in that easily? Where was he lurking? Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil … The Twenty-third Psalm was the only prayer Lester knew, and he repeated it over and over, hoping it would comfort him.

  Lester rubbed his tingling arm. He could hear the blood rushing past his ear and up the side of his head. He longed to know what time it was, but that meant he had to light a match—too risky. What if there was a gas leak? The match would set off an explosion. “I’m too smart for that, Death,” he said.

  Ticktock, ticktock.

  It was late. He could feel it. Stiffness seized his legs and made them tremble. How much longer? he wondered. Was he close to winning?

  Then in the fearful silence he heard a train whistle. His ears strained to identify the sound, making sure it was a whistle. No mistake. It came again, the same as the night before. Lester answered it with a groan.

  Ticktock, ticktock.

  He could hear Time ticking away in his head. Gas leak or not, he had to see his watch. Striking a match, Lester quickly checked the time. 11:57.

  Although there was no gas explosion, a tiny explosion erupted in his heart.

  Ticktock, ticktock.

  Just a little more time. The whistle sounded again. Closer than before. Lester struggled to move, but he felt fastened to the chair. Now he could hear the engine puffing, pulling a heavy load. It was hard for him to breathe, too, and the pain in his chest weighed heavier and heavier.

  Ticktock, ticktock.

  Time had run out! Lester reached for an explanation that made sense. But reason failed when a glowing phantom dressed in the porters’ blue uniform stepped out of the grayness of Lester’s confusion.

  “It’s your time, good brother.” The specter spoke in a thousand familiar voices.

  Freed of any restraint now, Lester stood, bathed in a peaceful calm that had its own glow. “Is that you, Tip?” he asked, squinting to focus on his old friend standing in the strange light.

  “It’s me, ol’ partner. Come to remind you that none of us can escape the last ride on the 11:59.”

  “I know, I know,” Lester said, chuckling. “But man, I had to try.”

  Tip smiled. “I can dig it. So did I.”

  “That’ll just leave Willie, won’t it?”

  “Not for long.”

  “I’m ready.”

  Lester saw the great beam of the single headlight and heard the deafening whistle blast one last time before the engine tore through the front of the apartment, shattering glass and splintering wood, collapsing everything in its path, including Lester’s heart.

  * * *

  When Lester didn’t show up at the shoeshine stand two days running, friends went over to his place and found him on the floor. His eyes were fixed on something quite amazing—his gold watch, stopped at exactly 11:59.

  The Sight

  Until recent years, midwives attended almost all women during childbirth. One of the midwife’s many duties was to tell mothers when their babies were born with a caul, a filmy part of the amnion, covering their faces. Those special children were said to have psychic abilities. It was called being born with a veil, and the powers were called the sight. If the mother was a believer, the midwife usually explained the ways of the sight: Many never got the power, but for those who did, it could be both a blessing and a curse.

  “Your baby’s been born with a veil over his face,” the midwife told Amanda Mayes. “Are you a believer?”

  Amanda nodded.

  “He may have the sight.”

  Worry lines creased the new mother’s forehead as the woman explained. “The sight comes—if it comes—in different ways. Some can see spirits, while others can see the future or can divine. Make sure he uses it wisely, or it will bring trouble.”

  The sight would come to Esau at two times in his life—the first when he was only six years old.

  Esau and his mother lived on a small farm outside St. Charles, Missouri, where Amanda scratched out a living doing laundry. One Friday evening the boy told his mother matter-of-factly, “Miz Toppy won’t be to church on Sunday ’cause she’s going to break her leg.” Sure enough, Saturday evening Toppy Perkins slipped on a patch of freshly cut grass and broke her leg.

  From that day on the sight was strong with Esau. It gave him the gift to see the future with incredible accuracy. In the beginning he was an open vessel through which psychic energy flowed, overwhelmed by mental images that showed him things he didn’t want to know. But as he grew older he learned how to manage the visions better, controlling them with his mind.

  Fearing people might misuse the boy, Amanda taught her son to keep his gift hidden deep inside him. “You must be careful who you choose to tell about the sight,” she warned. “Certain folk might tempt you to use it for the wrong reasons. And if you do, the sight will leave you for sure.” So Esau never told another soul—until his pa showed up.

  There wasn’t a worse husband or more neglectful father than Tall Mayes. But he was charming and able to con the devil’s best man out of his shoes. Tall had left St. Charles right after Esau’s birth, coming back only two or three times, begging for forgiveness and making big promises. Then as unexpectedly as he’d come Tall would leave.

  “Trouble’s comin’ to our door,” Esau told his mother one August morning. Tall Mayes showed up three days later on the boy’s ninth birthday.

  “Hide the silver,” Amanda said sarcastically. “
Your pa is home!”

  Tall drove right up to the front porch in a shiny new 1931 Ford, kicking up dust and scattering the hens and chicks every which way. He leaped out, bearing gifts of candy, flowers, toys, and lots of talk, most of it apologies for not being around for the past year.

  “Now, Amanda, you know I love you and the boy,” he said, flashing a quick smile. “I admit I’m a rascal, but this time I’m home for good. My roaming days are over.”

  Liar, Esau thought.

  As disgusted as Amanda acted and as reluctant as Esau was to warm up to him, within the hour Tall had them dancing and laughing and turning like puppets on a string. Esau couldn’t recall a happier birthday.

  A week later Esau went into St. Charles with his father. When Tall left for a moment to make a telephone call, the boy had a vision. As soon as Tall came back to the car, Esau blurted, “Those men you owe money to? They’re coming to hurt you bad, Pa. Real bad!”

  “How did you know about …?” his father screamed. Right away Esau knew he’d made a mistake by speaking up. But what else could he have done? He had to warn his father.

  Then in a flash Tail’s mood lightened. He slapped his thigh and clapped his hands as he remembered. “Ain’t this a blessing! I knew you were born with a veil over your face, but I thought that was just old wives’ tales.” He laughed. “Amanda sure kept this a secret. Tell me, son, do you really have the gift?”

  Reluctantly Esau nodded but quickly added, “Ma says I shouldn’t use it to do wrong, because I’ll lose it.”

  Tall exaggerated a look of surprise. “I wouldn’t dream of making you do anything wrong.’ But Esau knew better.

  As soon as they got home Tall started packing. Amanda had left a note saying she had gone to visit the sick and shut-in with Elder and Mrs. Lampkin. She wasn’t expected home for another hour or so.

  “You’re comin’ with me, boy,” Tall announced. “Time I had some influence in your life.”

  “What about Ma? I don’t want to go without her.” Tall ignored the boy’s protests, and Esau started to panic. “No,” he cried. “I won’t go!”

  “Yes, you will,” Tall said, throwing the boy’s things into the trunk of the car. “Not to worry. Your ma knows I’m taking you. I told her last night and she agreed.” Tall forced Esau inside the car. “That’s why she left home. You know how much she hates good-byes.”

  Esau knew his father was lying. His mother wouldn’t agree to such a thing. “I don’t want to go!” he screamed as Tall stepped on the gas and tore out of the driveway and down the dirt road.

  One month later Tall dropped Esau off at the front gate and sped out of their lives for good. Amanda listened silently while her son recounted how he’d helped Tall win big money by using the sight to pick winning numbers and horses. “He made enough to pay back the bad men, but he wouldn’t stop gambling.”

  Esau’s voice grew quieter. “Then something happened,” he went on. “Pa made me call on the sight to pick a horse. But this time I couldn’t see a thing. Pa beat me and beat me until I finally chose one.”

  Amanda clicked her teeth and shook her head sadly.

  Esau continued his story. “Pa bet on that horse and lost every penny. When the bad men caught up with us, he couldn’t pay them. He made promises and even told them about my gift, but they just laughed at him. Then they punched him around … just like I saw that they would.”

  “None of it’s your fault,” Amanda said, hugging him close.

  “Since then I haven’t had the sight anymore. I call to it, but it doesn’t come.”

  “Maybe you’re better off without it.”

  Losing the sight didn’t matter much to Esau either. He didn’t like knowing a friend or a family member was in trouble anyway.

  And as he grew up, Esau forgot that he’d ever had the sight to begin with.

  * * *

  A lot of Missouri boys saw action in World War II, and among them was Esau Mayes. Esau was one of the lucky ones who made it back healthy and whole, and with a wife, too. He’d met Charity Rose in St. Louis while on furlough after his training at Fort Leonard Wood. “The first night we met it was like we had known each other all our lives,” Esau told Amanda the day he brought his new wife to River Ridge.

  Soon after the twins were born, Amanda gave the farm to Esau and Charity Rose, and she moved into a small house in town. The city girl took to country ways easily, and there wasn’t a more loving husband or kinder father than Esau. “Somewhere there is a man who is as happy as me,” Esau said, saluting Charity Rose at their tenth-anniversary party, “but no man can claim to be happier.”

  But as soon as the words had passed his mouth, he felt uneasy. That night Esau had a nightmare. It frightened him so much he couldn’t go back to sleep. The next night he had the same dream. After splashing his face with cold water, he checked on the boys and crawled back into bed. Again he was afraid to sleep for fear the dream would return.

  Still the dream came night after night. It always began with the smell of oil. Then he saw smoke, black billowing smoke. Next came the heat. As Esau lay trapped in a dream state, he was forced to watch his family being swallowed up by a wall of hissing flames.

  His eyes were closed, but still he experienced it all. He felt himself running, running … pain clawed at his leg … more heat, choking smoke. “Daddy! Daddy! Over here!” More running. A shadowy figure holding him back. Charity Rose screaming “No, no, no!” Fire! Water! Smoke! Screams! Then a powerful force snatching him, jerking him, slamming him against the ground.

  Esau’s eyes snapped open. Gasping for breath, he lay engulfed in his own fear.

  Even though he desperately wanted to believe it meant nothing, Esau knew his dream was more than a nightmare. The sight had returned.

  Not wanting to frighten Charity Rose or the boys, Esau kept the dreams to himself. It was the first time he’d ever had a secret from his wife, and she sensed something was wrong. When Esau brought home a new oil heater to replace the one they’d just bought a year earlier, she asked him what was the matter.

  “I’m okay,” he assured her. “I haven’t been sleeping well.” That was as much of the truth as he dared tell. “Just need some rest, that’s all.”

  Charity Rose didn’t probe, and he was grateful. Besides, the dreams stopped. After a week had passed, Esau was convinced that the old oil heater had been the problem and that replacing it had offset the impending disaster. He let himself relax.

  Then one morning while he was working in the barn Esau smelled smoke. Looking around to see what might be burning, he realized the sight was upon him.

  Esau knew he wasn’t dreaming—he was wide awake. As he fought to free himself from the paralyzing trance, his body trembled in convulsive jerks. Choking on smoke, he felt the heat, saw the explosion and fire, heard the screams.

  Esau also heard Charity Rose calling his name, but he couldn’t answer. Then slowly the sight let go its grip. He was soaking wet, cold and shivering, coughing, and sore. Beside him was his wife, wiping his face with a cool cloth.

  There was no way for him to keep his secret any longer. Esau told Charity Rose everything. “I was born with this curse,” he said, pacing the floor as he talked. “I can see things that are going to happen in the future. It’s called having the sight.”

  “Amanda told me about your special gift, but I thought it was just a story.”

  “It sounds crazy, I know. But it’s true. You and the boys are in danger—real danger!”

  Fear darkened Charity Rose’s face. “Could you be wrong?”

  Hugging her tightly, Esau continued. “No. Even though it’s hard, please believe me. This fire’s going to happen. Trust me.”

  “I trust you, Esau. Now what should we do?”

  He managed to smile. With Charity Rose’s support, Esau felt as if he’d set up his first line of defense. “I’ll take you and the boys to Ma’s house for a few days. You’ll be safe there.”

  “No. Let’s take the boys
, then you and I can come back and face whatever is going to happen the way we always have—together.”

  “Listen,” Esau said firmly. “I have a plan, but you’ve got to let me stay here alone.”

  Charity Rose hesitated but finally agreed. Esau was relieved. He rushed on with his idea. “So far I’ve been resisting the sight. If I know you’re safe, I’ll open up to it and maybe some of the shadowy details will become clearer.”

  It was settled then. Esau would stay at the farm. “Promise me you won’t use that oil stove no matter how cold it gets,” said Charity Rose.

  When the boys came home from school, Esau drove his family to his mother’s house. “The sight has come back,” he told her, then returned to the farm right away, leaving Charity Rose to fill in the details.

  The sun had set, but there was still enough daylight to finish his evening chores. Afterward he fixed himself a sandwich and ate in silence. The house was chilly, so he wrapped himself in a quilt and sat by the fireplace. The November wind shook the latches.

  As he sat staring into the fire Esau did something he hadn’t done since childhood. He opened his mind to the sight. And it came.

  Now Esau was inside a house. He knew it well—the mantel with the crystal candlesticks and his military photo. Lower down, the wine-colored couch and matching chair. On the table, a pair of glasses and a newspaper. Suddenly the smell of smoke. An old oil heater growing hotter and hotter, overheating, getting ready to explode. Back to the newspaper. His mind’s eye racing over the date: November 14, 1954. Today!

  With all his strength Esau forced himself out of the trance. Still the sight held his mind.

  The oil heater blazing brighter and brighter. The furniture growing even clearer. Why, this wasn’t his own farm at all! This was his mother’s house!

  “Nooooo!” he screamed.