Transcontinental

by Brad Cook

  Leroy filled his mouth with water, then dropped the pills in, tilted his head back, and swallowed. “I didn’t know you and Carl were married.”

  “Yes sir, fifteen years, now. We were both in an early group of newcomers back before SpiritWood was even built. I saw something in Carl’s eyes I never seen anywhere else, and I knew God had brought us together. Far as I know, it was the same for him. We been together since.”

  The story reminded him of the way he’d felt when he first saw Jemisha. Maybe God had brought them together, too. His heart fluttered.

  “You’re lucky we got a hold of you,” she said. “No place better to be than SpiritWood. Before we had the compound, our congregation was just a church in a trailer park. Now we got acres of land, livestock, a school. I tell you, few men been better for people like us than the Bishop. He’s a visionary, and we all better off for it. I thank God every day that we met. How’d you meet him?”

  “I was at the train station, running from a racist. He kept calling me a monkey, over and over. Don’t know why. I didn’t do anything to him.”

  “No you sure didn’t, hun. Some people are just spoilt from the get-go. They lash out because of it. Ultimately, they get what they deserve. You keep your head up high and do what you can to move on.”

  Leroy nodded. “That’s when I met Pastor Mercer and came here.”

  “Demonde is a great man. Very intelligent. The Bishop is the heart and soul of SpiritWood, but Pastor Mercer is the brains of the operation.”

  “They’ve been great to me. I appreciate it.”

  Atasha smiled. “They appreciate your help, too. So, are ready for church tomorrow? Doesn’t start till eight, so you get to sleep in a little. Softens the blow for those who don’t take to God as easy.”

  “Can I ask you something?” Leroy said.

  “You sure can.”

  “What’s seeking?”

  “Well, we call it seeking for God. It’s a process we all go through to prove that we’ve been baptized in the Holy Ghost and found salvation.”

  “Is it hard?”

  Her eyes shifted slightly, just enough so that she wasn’t looking at him anymore. “It can be stressful. But it’s all worth it once it’s over.” Her eyes found his again. “Trust me. Have you had a water baptism?”

  “Like, when they dunk your head?”

  “It’s a little more involved in it than that, but yes,” she chuckled.

  Leroy shook his head.

  “What about repentance?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Oh, boy. You’re all the way at the beginning, yet. Repentance is when you confess your sins to God, you taste His displeasure at your sinful life, and you ask for forgiveness in His holy name,” she said. “Anyway, you’ll learn more about that tomorrow. How are you feeling?”

  Leroy tried to stand and found it slightly difficult, not because he was sore, but because he felt, as Atasha had said, like a jello-man. He stood on his own, though, and said “I feel better.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. Let’s get going.”

  * * *

  It turned out his day off was more accurately a day elsewhere. Atasha dropped him off at the kitchen with a friendly wave, when all he’d wanted was to stay in bed. The ache was manageable, but not fun, and his motor skills were dulled. The last thing he wanted to do was dishes.

  The kitchen supervisor sent him to the back of the room with rubber gloves that were too big for his hands. Along one wall, two girls per deep-set sink washed dishes, while on the opposite wall, others dried the clean dishes in a trough of sorts. Leroy was the only male present.

  He stopped at the last sink. A lone girl scoured a plate that wouldn’t come clean. After a moment, she noticed him and looked up, then rolled her eyes. “Great. You here to stare at me some more?” Jemisha asked.

  He didn’t know what to do or say. Here was the moment he’d waited for since he’d first laid eyes on the girl, and he was at a loss.

  “I, uh… I was… They sent me… No.” He held up his gloved hands.

  She stared him down, one eyebrow raised, then let out a snicker. “What you waitin’ for, then? Get them gloves wet and help me out!”

  Leroy stepped closer and dipped his hands in the water. “I’m Marcus.”

  “I know who you are. I’m the one sent Clayvon to talk to you.”

  Leroy was taken off-guard. “How come?”

  “Make sure you wasn’t a psycho killer or somethin’ like that, I guess,” she shrugged. “You was starin’ at me pretty hard, you know.”

  “I’m really sorry,” he said, looking into the water as he stirred it idly. “I don’t know why. It was like my eyes were stuck looking your direction. Every time I tried to pull them away, they shot right back.”

  Jemisha softened a bit. A smile brushed her lips as she looked off. “You actually gonna wash anythin’ or just play with the water like a child?”

  “Sorry.” He grabbed a dish from the depths and sponged it.

  “Quit apologizin’!” She flicked her hand down and splashed his shirt.

  “Hey!” Bits of food clung to the wet spot. He rubbed it with his sleeve, mashing it into the fabric, then looked up to see her laughing.

  “I bet that’s meatloaf!” she giggled. “Probably tastes better now than it did last night. Go on, give it a try!” She splashed again, but Leroy dodged it, sending a stream of dirty water to the floor.

  “I saw that! Clean it up!” the supervisor called from across the kitchen.

  Leroy tore a few paper towels from a nearby rack.

  “Nah, I got it.” Jemisha snatched them and dried the water.

  Leroy resumed washing dishes. His sore hands didn’t help.

  “Look at you, scrubbin’ like an old woman.” She imitated him.

  He ignored her and scrubbed harder.

  “Come on, now. Just playin’. Sharin’ a sink takes communication.”

  “Sounds like you might need some help with that,” Leroy smirked.

  Jemisha put her hands on her hips.

  “Hey, it’s okay,” he said. “We all do, sometimes.”

  “Oh, you think you slick, huh?” She shoved him, leaving a wet handprint on his skin, but Leroy could tell she wasn’t mad, and a shove was better than avoiding eye contact altogether.

  “Carl said this was supposed to be my day off.” As soon as he said it, he could see Jemisha drift off into her thoughts, her hands ceasing working. Grasping to keep the conversation alive, he said “I was so sore I could hardly move before they gave me medicine.”

  “Day off? Never heard of it,” she grumbled. “A day working with me is ‘bout as close to a day off as you gon’ get. Unless you go on path.”

  “They give you a day off?”

  “No, but when you ask for donations for abused kids, all you really gotta do is sit around and look sad. I can do that,” she said, forcing a sponge into a deep cup. “Why you think I was out with them when we picked you up? I needed a fresh breath of unholy air.”

  Leroy reached into the water. “You wouldn’t even look at me in the van.”

  “You know how many kids we pick up? Half the time I never see ‘em again. Besides, when I’m around Mercer or Wood I clam up.”

  “Why? The Bishop’s a character, but they both seem nice.”

  “Don’t like to draw attention to myself. Soon as I hit eighteen, I’m outta here. This place is for suckers. People who’s scared to live life. Not me.”

  “Maybe they just want a safe, routine life.”

  “That ain’t livin’. That’s just waitin’ to die.”

  The notion made more sense than Leroy cared to admit.

  * * *

  A whole day of working beside Jemisha had done nothing to dull his feelings for her. After a while, they’d struck a balance in which she did most of the talking, and he chipped in now and again. Then, awestruck at her openness, he listened in silence as she told him about catching catfish in the Mississippi with her
father, the summer drought a few years back that’d drained her parents’ bank account, and how her father had succumbed to lung cancer only a year later, so her mother moved the family to SpiritWood.

  Despite the tragic past, her rebelliousness was rousing, her wit was sharp, and she was so damn beautiful. She had a rough edge to her personality, but Leroy could see the deeper softness it concealed. He found himself thinking of her as he carried his food to his seat, when she called out.

  “Bring that booty over here,” she smirked, scooting to make room between her and Clayvon, who shot Leroy an awkward, bemused glance.

  Happy to be wanted, he squeezed between the siblings.

  “He thought he had got a day off,” Jemisha chuckled, and the others—Clayvon, Rashaun, Darius, Sherman, Whatson—laughed along with her. “He was all sore,” she said, mocking his stiff movements. She could make fun of him all she wanted as long as he could sit next to her while she did it.

  * * *

  Leroy slept through every precious minute of that extra hour before church, right up until Carl came clanking through.

  “Let’s go, let’s go. Church in fifteen. Everybody up and dressed.” He made his way to the end of the row. “Marcus? Can you make it?”

  He strained to sit up, but the ache wasn’t debilitating. “I’m good.”

  “I’m glad, because you’re one of two special people today.”

  “How so?”

  “Today is your day of repentance,” Carl said in a matter-of-fact tone. “You should be excited! Remember when we talked about knowing God? Like the Bishop? Well, repentance is the first official step.”

  “You mean there’s a set process to it?”

  “In a manner of speaking, yes.”

  That was a relief. Without guidelines he’d be completely lost.

  “Of course, it’s different for everyone. It’s not just boom-boom-boom then you’re done, you’re saved by God. There’s more to it. ”

  The boys changed into the formal clothes laid out for them at the foot of their beds, then Carl led the parade of sleepy, well-dressed children down the hall, across the yard, and into the main building.

  Leroy could hear faint music as they joined other groups crossing the atrium, voices singing an upbeat gospel tune as others clapped along. As two large men opened the double door, music rushed out like a tidal wave of infectious emotion. From the line, Leroy beheld the spectacle: a band played on stage with a choir; people danced in the aisles, singing along, waving their hats and hands; others sat perfectly still, smiling calmly or browsing a bible. At the center of it all, the Bishop stood at a podium wearing a flashy white suit, his cowboy hat nodding with his head. It was unlike anything Leroy had ever seen, and it inspired a euphoria deep within.

  As the room filled, Leroy scanned the congregation. People with hands held high in the air swayed side to side. One woman almost seemed to be having convulsions. In that moment, Leroy was left awestruck, tingling, feeling closer than he’d ever been to witnessing something holy.

  As Leroy sat, Clayvon appeared beside him. “Yo.”

  Leroy was about to reply, then the Bishop spoke into the microphone. “Settle down, now. Settle down.” The music faded away. “Take your seats, please. We have a lot to get through this morning.”

  A few moans and groans were followed by light laughter.

  The Bishop wore a sardonic grin. “You could either be here, basking in the word of God in His own house, or you could be off doing your jobs. Now, if you would like to leave, please do so.”

  Nobody moved.

  “I’m glad you all are so unenthused to be here, because it ties right into today’s sermon. You see, as I gaze out at my flock this morning, I see not a herd of well-shepherded sheep, but a graveyard, littered with the dry and dusty bones of the once living; those who had the Holy Spirit coursing through their flesh and blood. But no more.” He wagged his finger, pacing the stage. “Perhaps it’s my fault, perhaps it’s yours. All that matters is how, or even if, you choose to move forward.

  “Let me take you back in time. Way back. Back before you were born, before your parents, before your parents’ great-great-grandparents, before the virgin Mary birthed the Lord Christ, even. Babylon’s King, Nebuchadnezzar the second, captured Jerusalem, deposed King Jehoiakim, and exiled many Israelites into captivity, causing mass rioting and rebellion. One of the exiled was Ezekiel, a man of twenty-five, set to become a priest in the Solomon Temple.

  “Now, you can imagine how he must’ve felt: frightened, depressed, bitter, even betrayed, perhaps. But God had not betrayed him. God had a plan for him, as he does everyone. Sure enough, one day the heavens parted, and Ezekiel witnessed visions of God upon a chariot, guided by cherubs. He later prophesied that Jerusalem and the Solomon Temple would be destroyed. Few believed him, a couple years later, Nebuchadnezzar grew tired of the rebellion, and demolished Jerusalem and its temple, just as Ezekiel had predicted. ‘Told ya so’ isn’t much consolation at that point, huh?”

  With that joke, the tepid atmosphere lightened. The sermon was certainly living up to its boring stereotype, as far as Leroy was concerned.

  “While exiled, Ezekiel was chosen by God as a prophet to explain to the hopeless, helpless Israelites why they had been banished to Babylon—as punishment for their worship of idols and false gods. However, it was also a chance for redemption in the eyes of the Lord. But how does one enliven a deadened people? God subjected Ezekiel to a vision to answer that question.

  ”In this vision, the hand of God placed Ezekiel in a great valley covered with the bones of slain armies, left to rot for eternity. God asked Ezekiel to study the bones, then asked him, ‘Son of man, can these dry bones live again?’ In his wisdom, Ezekiel responded ‘O Lord God, thou knowest whether these dry bones can live.’ He knew no matter how dire the situation, only God could determine the ultimate fate. Then the Lord bade Ezekiel to preach to the bones, and as he did, the sound of rolling thunder swept through the valley, as one by one the bones connected into skeletons, then grew flesh. But, lacking the breath of the Holy Spirit, they laid lifeless. God ordered Ezekiel to speak to the wind, and as he did, the bodies began to breathe. When Ezekiel told of this vision to the captive Israelites, their hearts were lifted anew, and they desired to return to their homeland, faith and spirit intact.”

  Silence rang throughout the pews.

  “Quite a story, huh?”

  People nodded and uttered their agreement.

  “All of that is to say one thing: I am Ezekiel.” He said it as if it were the most natural fact he could muster, to a cold hush. “I am Ezekiel! I look out at my people, and I see only dead, dry bones, lacking life and spirit.” Bishop Wood, sweat forming on his creased brow, cast a piercing gaze over the churchgoers. “I have felt the hand of God. He has strengthened me, that I may strengthen my people,” he said, backhanding his open palm in emphasis. “Too often, people are afraid to get down and dirty, to truly see the dry bones. This is why SpiritWood exists. The Lord has placed you all with me to tell you that you’ve come here as punishment! Punishment for your disgusting, sinful ways.”

  Leroy was as uncomfortable as the others looked.

  “God knows what you’ve done, rest assured. And he weeps for it. For you. For who you are, and who you could be. That is why I’m here today, brothers and sisters—to spread the message of God. I’m here to tell you that you must REPENT!” The Bishop’s face shook in his fervor, and he seemed to be staring right at Leroy. “Without doing so, you’ll never be anything but a dry bone in death’s infertile valley, for only through repentance may you unlock your heart for God to get in and guide you to a blissful eternity!”

  “Amen!” a man shouted, followed by a few others.

  So much for boring. Leroy shifted in his seat.

  “So to all of you this morning who lack the spiritual connection to God, I say: O ye dry bones, hear the word of the LORD! For He saith, ‘Behold, I will cause breath to enter into you, and ye s
hall live! And I will lay sinews upon you, and will bring up flesh upon you, and cover you with skin, and put breath in you! And ye shall live; and ye shall know that I am the LORD!’”

  Men and women and some of the kids shot to their feet amid rapturous applause and passionate cries. Next to Leroy, Clayvon slumped in his seat, arms crossed, looking off with a scowl.

  Shouting above the uproar, Bishop Wood said “Now I know we have sinners in here, this morning. I know, because we are all sinners, sometimes. For this reason, I will dedicate the rest of our time today to those whose bones are dry or drying, those in need of repentance. Whether it’s your first time ever, your first time this year, or your first time this week, now is the time.”

  Leroy crossed his arms.

  “The first person I need up here is Marcus Jackson.”

  Gentle murmurs swept through the room. Oblivious, Leroy looked around, until Clayvon elbowed him and they locked eyes.

  “Go on!”

  Leroy glanced back at the Bishop, who was again looking right at him. As he stood, his vision danced. In a light-headed blur, he squeezed his way past the other kids sitting in the pew, then over to the stage and up the steps.

  The Bishop put his arm around Leroy. “This is Marcus Jackson. He’s the newest member of our family. He doesn’t know if he believes in God.”

  Men and women booed and jeered, but Leroy didn’t hear it; he was lost in the ocean of faces in front of him. Some he recognized, but most he didn’t. So many were contorted and angry. They didn’t even know him.

  “Now, now. A great deal of you were once in his position. Plenty of you were far worse! Beggars, thieves, homosexuals. This poor boy simply never thought about it. However, I believe the time has come for cogitation.”

  Some of the church-goers’ anger had subsided, replaced by shouts of encouragement. Leroy found Jemisha toward the back of the room. She mouthed words to him, but he couldn’t make them out. Then, she let her jaw hang open and pushed it closed with her hand, and it clicked. He forced his open mouth shut, feeling a familiar warm rush of embarrassment.

  “Marcus Jackson! I ask you: in your heart, do you believe in God?”

  Bishop Wood handed Leroy the microphone. He watched it shake in his hand, looked out at the hopeful faces, and nodded, swallowing hard.