Dominion

by Randy Alcorn

  The farther Clarence got outside the city, the more disoriented Shadow became. This wasn’t his turf. After a forty minute drive, silent and tense, Clarence turned down a long winding dirt road, ten miles past Gresham on the way to Mount Hood.

  They drove up to an isolated cabin, buried in thick Douglas firs. Clarence got out of the car and took a box from the trunk. Had this been Shadow’s turf, he might have ducked and run, but he didn’t know where to go and he had no allies here. Clarence opened the passenger door and herded Shadow inside with the Glock.

  “Sit down.” Clarence pointed to a sturdy old chair at a table, then took a tow-rope out of the box and tied Shadow’s waist to the chair. “Stretch your arms out on the table.”

  “Whatchu doin’ man? Whatchu doin’ to me?”

  “Too many black folks has forgotten,” Zeke said to Dani, “our struggle was never to get independence from God. It weren’t a struggle to be out from under lordship. It was a struggle to be under the right lordship. Freedom isn’t being out from under authority. Freedom is being under the right authority, God’s.”

  Dani nodded, watching the images forming in the portal. A plantation master was speaking to a group of slaves, one of them Zeke.

  “When old Ned died last week,” the Sunday-suit-wearing master said, “there was some grumblin’ ’cause he weren’t buried in the ground. I say he was a nigger so it don’t rightly matter. I can’t afford to waste a perfectly good box every time a nigger dies. But to show you I’s a kind Christian man, I’s gonna give you materials to build your own coffins, but only on your own time. You can’t go stealin’ your time from me; that’s breakin’ God’s law. Hear me?”

  “Yes, Massah Willy,” Zeke said. Dani then watched Zeke, bone tired from his all-day labors, using saw, hammer, and nails to build his own coffin under moonlight. After the job was done, Zeke wrote on the side of the coffin with a piece of coal.

  “Not bad for an old slave that taught hisself to read and write from that old Bible I hid under my bed.” Zeke read the words aloud: “Psalm 16:11—In thy presence is fullness of joy; at thy right hand there are pleasures forevermore.”

  Dani saw the master come up to Zeke’s coffin, squinting at it. “Who wrote those words? Wipe ’em off. I should whip you for writin’, and I would if I weren’t so full of lovin’ kindness.”

  “As I wiped off each word,” Zeke said to Dani, “I recited it as a prayer to Elyon. See, the massahs could control our bodies, but they couldn’t control our minds. My body was enslaved, but my heart was free.”

  Dani hugged him, then reached to his face and wiped his tears. “Ironic,” she said, “how that man who claimed to believe God’s Word couldn’t stand to see you write it on your coffin. What was going through his mind?”

  “Don’t rightly know, but I expect slaves readin’ and writin’ reminded Massah Willy we was real men. See, they’d say we was just like cows or mules, but I never seen a cow readin’ or writin’. Me writin’ Scripture reminded him I was a spiritual being, God’s chile. Cows and mules don’t pray and sing and worship neither. Now, hearin’ too much Bible reminded Massah Willy he’d has to stand before God for everything he’d done. What brings comfort to those who suffer injustice brings terror to those who commit injustice. Buildin’ that coffin and writin’ those words was a labor of love. For me the promise of bein’ in God’s presence was joy. For him the promise was terror.”

  “I guess we can’t know exactly what he was thinking, can we?” Dani asked.

  “Often I looks through the portal and wonders what people was thinkin’ when they said and did things,” Zeke said. “Sometimes I knows I’ll be able to ask them. But I can’t ask questions of Massah Willy. He just ain’t here to ask.”

  Clarence removed Shadow’s gloves and took another rope, tied it around his wrists, and pulled it across the table. Then he tied it to the table legs underneath on the opposite side so Shadow’s arms were stretched tight.

  “Why you doin’ this?” Shadow’s voice cracked.

  “Ever take a lie detector test?” Clarence asked.

  “No. My lawyer say not to.”

  “Smart man,” Clarence said. “I’ll have to get his name from you. Well, Shadow, today’s your chance to try out the lie detector. Got me a polygraph test right here. It’ll tell me when you lie. We’re going to use the three strikes and you’re out rule.” He held up the Glock 17 in his palm. “You lie three times, I put a bullet through your head.”

  A look of horror shot through Shadow’s eyes. He’d heard this big dude’s rep, what he’d done to Georgie.

  Clarence took his father’s blood pressure unit out of the box, wrapped it around Shadow’s right arm, and pumped it tight—too tight. Then he took out a length of clear surgical tubing he’d gotten off the shelf of a medical supply store less than two hours before. He tied it tight around Shadow’s chest. Finally, Clarence plugged into the wall outlet the electrical cord running from the power supply of Jonah’s induction coil. He positioned the thick metal nail-like end an inch from the crook of Shadow’s left arm. Shadow’s eyes got big as he looked at the imposing piece of metal.

  “You lie and I’ll know it. Three lies and you’re dead. Got it? First question— what’s your name?”

  “Shadow.”

  Clarence moved his finger on the power supply, sitting on his lap where Shadow couldn’t see it. A bright arc jumped to Shadow’s arm, which involuntarily flexed upward, abruptly stopped by the tension of the rope. He screamed, eyes wide. Clarence switched the unit off.

  “What’s happenin’, man?” Shadow shouted. “You tryin’ to fry me?”

  “It’s just fifty thousand volts. That’s strike one. Shadow isn’t your real name.”

  “Davey. Davey Williams. Everybody call me Shadow. That don’t count.”

  “It counts. Strike one. Now, are you a Crip or a Blood?”

  “I be Crip, man. Rollin’ 60s, do or die. Hate Bloods.”

  “Well, you’re telling the truth there,” Clarence said. “You deal drugs?”

  “No.” He tensed up, then quickly added, “Wait, yeah, sometimes.”

  “Almost strike two. Good thinkin’, Davey. Keep telling the truth, and you’ll keep breathing. Okay. Did you kill Sylvester over on MLK back in June?”

  Davey’s eyes looked wild. “No way, man.” The arc jumped to his arm, which twitched and flexed.

  “The machine knows you did it. Strike two.” Clarence picked up the Glock 17 and with a dramatic flourish racked the slide to chamber a round. He thought about Tommy Lee Jones in The Fugitive. “One more lie and your brains are wallpaper,” Clarence said. Davey let out a low moan.

  “You also killed Raphael, the Woodland Park Blood.” Davey looked horrified, yet he didn’t deny it. “But I’m not going to give you a chance to lie about him, because next lie I have to shoot you. See, I’m not here about those boys. Now—do you know who gave Leesa Fletcher the cocaine that killed her?”

  Davey looked down.

  “Answer me. Now.”

  “Yeah. GC do it.”

  “She wasn’t a user. He forced it on her, didn’t he? And you were with him, weren’t you?”

  “We cased her crib. Witch’s parents drove off, we come to the door. Said we wanted to talk. GC offered her coke. She wouldn’t take it. He had me make up this heavy mix. I hold her down, and GC shot it in her arm. Witch went quick.”

  “Who told you and GC to do this?”

  “Nobody.” Beads of sweat stood out on his head. He watched the induction coil as if it were a rattlesnake. “I mean, everything come by envelopes. Think it’s the same dude. Can’t be sure. We’d do the job, money just showed up. That’s all I know, man, I swear.”

  “Did you do the same thing with Gracie? Force an injection on her?”

  “Didn’t have to force Gracie. She be a base head, crack witch.”

  “How’d you get Gracie to OD? The truth.” Clarence laid the point of the coil on the hinge of Shadow’s arm.
r />   “Gave her some pure stuff, uncut. She took it and just ghosted right out of this world.”

  “Who put the heroin in my coffee?”

  “White? In yo’ coffee? Don’t know whatchu talkin’ about.” Clarence picked up the Glock and squeezed the handle. The red light shone in Shadow’s eyes. “Tellin’ the truth, man,” Shadow said. “Don’t know nothin’ about no white or coffee.”

  “Did you pay Gracie to say I sexually abused her?” Silence. “Answer me!”

  “No,” he whispered, as if he hoped the machine might not hear him. A one-inch arc leapt to his arm. The electricity stopped for a moment, then arced again. It happened a third time. Shadow’s arm showed a big strawberry splotch. Terrified, he twitched and wrestled with the rope that held down his arms. He looked up frantically at Clarence, staring into a ruby red light.

  “Too bad,” Clarence said. “Now I pull the trigger.”

  “No, wait! Don’t do it, man. You can’t shoot me!” Shadow saw Clarence’s finger turning white on the trigger. “Okay, I gave the money to Gracie. But GC sent me to do it!”

  “But whose idea was it to set me up? This is your last chance.”

  “Okay. Chill. Be cool, man. It was that guy from the councilman’s office. The little guy.”

  “Gray?”

  “Yeah, Gray, that’s the dude. That be him.”

  “How do you know Gray?”

  “Met him and the councilman at the gang summit last year. You know, where the bigwigs, they bring in gang leaders for a powwow.”

  “Has Gray ever hired GC or you before?”

  “No. Wait. Yes. Couple of times.

  “What did you do for him?”

  “Passed out stuff.”

  “And?”

  “Just some bitty favors, that’s all. We did a few things for him, gave him some names, talked to some people. He put in a word for us with the DA on some charges. That’s it.”

  “What would your gang think if they knew you and GC were gettin’ paid by the Man?” Clarence asked. “Okay. Here we go. Did you shoot up my sister’s house?”

  “No way, man, no way.” No arc. No shock.

  “Now think carefully before you answer. Did you or GC meet with some guys from out of town that did the hit?”

  Shadow looked down. “GC met a couple of dudes at the Taco Bell. Gave them an address. They got it wrong. Wasn’t his fault. I didn’t have nothin’ to do with it— straight up, man. Don’t even know who sent GC down there. He wouldn’t tell me. Same guy, Gray, I guess, but don’t know for sure.”

  Clarence took a tape recorder out of his pocket. “If I decide not to kill you, Davey, here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to take this tape recording and put it in a safe deposit box with a written record of what you’ve confessed to—the murders, the setup, the payoff, everything. And if anybody comes after me or my son or wife or nephew or anyone I know, then there’s a detective named Manny who’s going to get this. And no lawyer’s going to save you. The cops will nail you for sure. So pass the word. It better be safe for my family or you’re history Got it?”

  Shadow nodded. Clarence took off the surgical tubing and the blood pressure unit, then untied him roughly.

  Neither said a word on the drive back to North Portland. Clarence pulled up across the street from Shadow’s house. “Get out of my sight. Remember, anybody in my family gets hurt, you pay.” He pushed Shadow out the passenger door, not bothering to return his Sig Sauer or his knife.

  “Now, chillens, I been hearin’ some talk I want to set straight. I wants you to understand not all white folks is bad. There’s plenty of good ones, and don’t let nobody tell you different.” Obadiah spoke to his grandchildren, gathered at his request in the living room late in the afternoon. Ty sat there under protest, but Granddaddy had insisted.

  “I was thirty-five when I joined the army because I wanted to serve my country. There was a private named Mike Button, from Texas. One day we was doin’ field maneuvers in ninety degree heat. So we takes a break. I’s standin’ under a shade tree, and ol’ Mike, he comes up to me and says, ‘Forgot my canteen. Mind if I have a drink, Obadiah?’ I reached to get my cup to pour him some water, but Mike just slaps the cup away and grabs the canteen. Then he pulls it to his mouth and takes a long draw. Well, them days whites didn’t never drink from the same bottle as blacks. I knowed it weren’t no accident. Mike did it on purpose. That was the beginning of a fast friendship. We wrote each other letters every Christmas until five years ago when he died. I still writes to his widow, but my hand’s so shaky don’t know if she can read it. One day I’m gonna see ol’ Mike again because he loved Jesus and so do I. My black hand’s gonna grip his white hand. And it’s gonna be a strong grip then. All hell won’t be able to break apart those two hands.” His right eye grew heavy. He reached to it, and a big tear cascaded down his cheek.

  “Tell us about the Depression, Gramps,” Jonah said.

  “Well, now, them were some days, I’m tellin’ you. My brother Elijah, he traveled with me then. We couldn’t find no work in Mississippi, so we took to ridin’ the rails. We’d get off town to town, search for work all day. Most nights we was outside. We’d find some newspaper, lay it over us, and put our arms around each other jus’ to keep from freezin’. Loved all my brothers and sisters, but none like ol’ Elijah. And I think he’d say the same about me. One time me and ‘Lijah, we was in Detroit. We was kickin’ ourselves for ridin’ the rail so far north, it was so cold. We was huddlin’ up for the night in a back alley, and in the dark I hears someone amoanin’. So Elijah and me, we moves over to this poor man, stiff as a board. I gets on one side and Elijah on t’other, and we puts our arms around him.

  “He was scared at first. Can’t blame him.” Obadiah laughed. “We got out of him his name was Freddy. That’s the only thing he said all night. Frrrrrrrrreddy.”’ He laughed again. “Cold as ice. But after thirty minutes of his face buried in my ol’ sweater, his mouth thawed out. We gived him our last piece of bread. He needed it more than we did. ’Lijah was singin’ the ol’ spirituals, and another hour or so Freddy got warm enough and Elijah’s lullabies put him to sleep. No one could sing like Elijah. Well, come just after dawn, Elijah sings ‘Amazin’ Grace.’ He wakes ol’ Freddy up. Of course, by then we knew Freddy was white. You should’ve seen the look on his face when he realized he’d spent the night as lunch meat in a Negro sandwich!”

  “What did he do then, Grandpa?” Jonah asked.

  “Well, he stayed right there. And we got to talkin’. When it warmed up to about forty degrees, we got up and looked for work together. Became good friends. And for almost a week ol’ Freddy spent the nights in that same Negro sandwich!

  “Frrrrrrrreddy,” Obadiah said again, laughing so hard it took his breath away. “I hasn’t told you the best part, chillens. Freddy asked us why we cared enough to keep him warm. Me and ’Lijah, we told him the reason. It was Jesus. We went our separate ways after that week, ’cause Detroit was home for him, but if we was goin’ to sleep outside, me and ’Lijah preferred Mississippi!”

  “What happened to Freddy?” Keisha asked.

  “Don’t rightly know. Never saw him again. But one thing we learned. There’s two times when color don’t matter. One’s when you’re cold and hungry. The other’s when you know Jesus.”

  Dani looked through the portal, watching Freddy sandwiched between her daddy and Uncle Elijah. She looked as the three men said their good-byes, then was startled to see Freddy suddenly disappear. Simultaneously, in the same spot, she saw an angel appear in the invisible realm.

  A look of shocked realization swept across Dani’s face. “Freddy was an angel?”

  “Yes,” Torel said. “Some of us Elyon sends as guardians. Others he sends to test his children and to teach them lessons. Adam’s race is unaware of who these are. You encountered such messengers yourself, dozens of them. Freddy tested your father and uncle, gave them an opportunity to care for a needy person in the name of Chris
t. They passed the test. Great reward awaits them.”

  “What kind of reward?”

  “That is not mine to say. But it will involve the angel himself, the one they helped. And it will involve the Master, who takes personally the help given in his name to the needy, as if it were done directly to him. Those who help the needy he repays lavishly, beyond the dreams of men.”

  “You said I met such messengers myself. Did I pass the tests?”

  “Sometimes you did, sometimes you did not. For those you did not, of course, you will receive no reward, nor will you have opportunity to earn that reward now, for earth was the land of opportunity. But you will be taken back, shown those opportunities again, so you can learn here the lessons you failed to learn then and there. As for those tests you passed, you will learn of these too. You will meet those messengers you helped. From their hands and Elyon’s you will experience reward richer than I could describe. I will say no more about it now.”

  Clarence came in and sat next to the hospital bed. “How you feeling?” he asked.

  “For a guy with a couple of broken ribs, I’m feeling pretty good. The doctor says it’s blunt trauma. The force of the impact came through the body armor even though the bullets didn’t. By the way.” Ollie said, “thanks for bleeding all over my suit.”

  “With those bullet holes, your suit was a goner anyway,” Clarence said. “I might just buy you a better one at the Goodwill. I thought you were history, Ollie. I really did. I thought it was your blood, not mine. I couldn’t even feel a pulse. I guess my fingers were too numb from the cold. I never knew you wore body armor till Manny told me in the car. You could have saved me a lot of sweat if you’d told me.”

  “I usually don’t wear it, but when we go into any potentially dangerous situation, it’s policy for detectives to put on the armor. It’s pretty lightweight these days. Saved my skin, that’s for sure. Anyway, the lieutenant tells me by the time SERT got to the crack house, the homeboys had scattered out the back. We can’t even prove Shadow was there. No positive ID on anybody. Can you believe it? They shoot up my car, open fire on me, ruin my shirt, wing you, and they get away with it. Shadow’s out there laughin’ at us right now.”