A Journey of Souls

by Michael McKinney

  Shivering on the ground with his teeth chattering, Billy Edmonds knows he's in for a long, dark, cold night and if that wasn't enough, the neurotic chatterbox sitting a few feet away from him shows no sign of fatigue.

  “Man, it's gettin’ cold. Hey Billy, ... Billy,”

  “What?”

  “You ever gone skiin'? I'd like to try that sometime, all that white snow and everything. I'd like that. Course, I'd have to learn how to stand up with them skis on my feet but I think I could do it. You ever gone skiin'? The reason I ask is because maybe you could teach me. We could go skiin’ sometime. I mean it's just a thought. ... Hey Billy, ... Billy are you sleepin?”

  “No.”

  “I usually stay up all night. I sleep in the day time. Hey Billy, you know what I think?”

  “Why don't you tell me. I can't wait to find out.”

  “I don't think that lady had any German Shepherds in her back yard. You know why? I didn't hear any dogs when I knocked on her door. Did you? ... Billy did you hear any dogs when I knocked on that lady's front door?”

  “ ... No.”

  “That's cause there weren't any. You know how I know that? ... You know how I know that, Billy?”

  “Why?”

  “Cause I had a cousin who had three German Shepherds and every time I'd go over there, them dogs would bark, every time, every single time. That's how I know.”

  As Billy lies shivering on the ground, he knows sleep will be impossible tonight. With his feet still blistered and bloody from walking through the day and the cold now adding to his general misery, he wonders how he'll get through what promises to be a hellishly long and miserable night. Dozing off for a few minutes at a time until the cold wakes him again, he tries to ignore the intermittent strain of his companion's convoluted monologue. The night passes ever so slowly. Occasionally, looking at the stars making their imperceptibly slow transit across the sky, they seem to be fixed and stationary in their unchanging positions as the minutes pass. Every second seems to dwell forever in the perfect misery of his condition and sunrise seems like a hundred years away.

  Chapter Twelve: The Lynching

  After an interminably long night of discomfort, pain and sleepless agitation, Billy Edmonds opens his eyes to see a faint glow of dawn in the eastern sky. The raw grip of this long, difficult night is finally ending. Tired, cold and hungry, he waits for the warming rays of the new morning sun and when they come he feels as if he's been reborn. The flood of light and warmth are an immediate comfort and revive his hopes of returning home from this unfamiliar world. As the sun gets higher and stronger in the sky, Billy Edmonds feels his strength gradually return and with gathering resolve prepares himself mentally for what might be another long day of walking through the desert, but for now, it's enough to just sit up and take in the warmth of a new day's sunlight. After passing a dismal, restless and bitterly cold night, not even the sound of his chatty companion can blunt the rejuvenating surge of energy he feels in this golden moment.

  “That sun feels good. Doesn't it Billy?”

  “It sure does.”

  “You know what I did?”

  “What's that?”

  “See that ridge up there. I walked up to the top o’ that ridge an’ you know what I saw?”

  “What?”

  “I looked down the road an’ you can see the gas station from up there. It aint far at all.”

  “How long will it take to get there?”

  “I don't know, ten minutes at the most.”

  “Let's go then. I'm ready,” Billy says.

  Buoyed by the prospect of what might be the end of his grueling ordeal, Billy stands and gathers his determination to move forward. Even his feet seem a little less painful this morning as he takes his first few tentative steps.

  Meanwhile, less than a mile away, at the gas station they're trying to reach, the morning brings another day of business for Mike Hollister who's starting his early shift behind the counter. After pouring himself a cup of coffee and getting ready for a new day, he looks out and sees two men approaching the front door. The glaring sun, still low in the eastern sky, makes the two men appear as dark silhouettes and he puts his hand above his eyes as a visor, squinting to see them. Moments later, the door opens and Billy's companion Ed Williams, walks in.

  “Sir, I wonder if we could use your rest room.”

  “Sure, it's right around the side of the building. It's unlocked.”

  “Thanks.”

  Within seconds, Billy Edmonds accompanies his companion around the side and opens the door to the bathroom. As he enters and turns on the light, he looks in the mirror and gasps in disbelief at what he sees. His face and hair are completely white as white as the whitest snow. Even the pupils of his eyes are white. Transfixed by the image he sees in the mirror, an unnerving silence comes over him. He barely recalls from his memory the words a woman once spoke to him. ‘You must be a white man Mr Edmonds, and you will be a white man. Rest assured.’

  ‘But that was only a dream,’ he tells himself. This is real. This is what that lady back there meant when she said ‘You look like a ghost.’ The spell of his panicked thoughts is broken when he hears his companion's voice.

  “How are your feet doin’ Billy?”

  “You ask me how my feet are doin', look at my face! Why didn't you tell me I looked like this?”

  “What do you mean? You look fine.”

  “What do I mean? Look at me. Look at my face and hair. I'm white as a sheet. No wonder, I scared that lady back there. Why didn't you tell me this?”

  “Tell you what, that you're a white man?”

  “What's happened to me? I have no color. Even my eyes are totally white. What's wrong with me? I look like a ghost.”

  “I think ya look fine Billy, look like a white man to me.”

  “Are you crazy?”

  “I don't understand. Don't you wanna look like a white man?”

  “No! I need color, you idiot.”

  Staring back at his image, Billy Edmonds tries to reason his way through this strange predicament.

  “What should I do? I can't go anywhere like this. I need something to — wait a minute, shoe polish, yeah, that might help. Yeah, that's what I need. Look, ask that guy, the clerk inside, if he has any shoe polish. I need the kind you rub on, not the liquid. It comes in a can like car wax, you know the kind I'm talkin’ about?”

  “Yeah, I know. What are you gonna do, Billy?”

  “Just do it please, Ed.”

  “Okay, I'll ask. I'll be right back.”

  When Billy Edmonds looks back at his own image, he once again sees a face and head completely devoid of any color. He turns on the water and washes his face thinking his strange appearance might somehow rinse off, but no amount of effort helps. Opening his jaw, he sees that even the inside of his mouth and tongue are as white as his face and hair. ‘What's happening to me?’ he asks himself. His silent consternation is interrupted by the sound of a voice calling from the outside.

  “Hey Billy, can you come out for a minute?”

  “Did you get the shoe polish?”

  “Not yet.”

  After opening the door and tentatively peeking, Billy Edmonds returns outside to his companion.

  “What's the problem?” Billy asks.

  “You want me to get shoe polish, I don't have any money.”

  At the same time Billy sees the station attendant come around the corner of the building but now, instead of looking into the glare of sunlight, Mike Hollister has the sun behind him and gets an illuminated, full-on view of Billy Edmond’s face.

  “Man! What the hell happened to you? You're as white as a sheet!”

  “Look, I'm sorry to bother you but I need some shoe polish, some tan shoe polish, the rub on kind. I, I know this sounds crazy but —”

 
“You're the weirdest thing I've ever seen. You must have some kinda disease, mister.”

  “No, no, I'm all right. I just need some shoe polish and maybe an old pair o’ shoes if you have any. That's all, please.”

  “I might have an old pair in the backroom you can have. I'll see if I can find some shoe polish. Then both of you can move on. You'll scare my customers.”

  The station attendant turns to Ed Williams.

  “You can come get it,” and turning to Billy says, “you stay outside. I don't want you in my store. It's nothin’ personal, but you could have some kinda contagious disease. I'll give the shoe polish to your friend and then I'm gonna lock that bathroom door.”

  “I need to use the bathroom,” Billy says.

  “Do you want this stuff or not?”

  “Yes, yes I do.”

  “Okay then, after I give it to ya, ya both leave. It's either that or you both leave with nothin.”

  “Okay, okay.”

  After following the attendant back in the store, Billy's companion returns with an old pair of tennis shoes and a small can of brown shoe polish, dark brown shoe polish and gives the items to Billy.

  “This is what he gave me, Billy. Is this what you wanted?”

  “Yeah, great, and a pair o’ shoes.”

  After putting them on Billy looks at the can of shoe polish.

  “Did he give you a rag or paper towel or something?”

  “No he didn't. He said he wants us out o’ here.”

  “I'll have to use my hands. I wish I had a mirror.”

  “What are you gonna do?”

  “What do ya think I'm gonna do? I'm gonna put some color on my face. I can't walk around like this. I'll scare people. Didn't you see how he reacted when he saw my face?”

  “What on earth are you talkin’ about Billy?”

  “I just told you. Are you blind?”

  Billy Edmonds opens the can and rubs the dark brown shoe polish on his face. Having no mirror, he makes doubly sure to get every possible square inch of his face, neck and scalp until no trace of white skin is visible. Ed Williams is repulsed at what he sees.

  “ ... I can't believe this. I can't believe what I'm seeing. Have you gone crazy?”

  “No, you're the one who's crazy. I'm doin’ what I have to do to get out o’ here.”

  “Well, I'm not gonna stand here and watch you do this. I just can't.”

  “Then look the other way.”

  “This is disgusting. You know what you look like? You look like a white man who turned himself into a nigger. I'm not gonna be part o’ this. This is where you an’ I part company. I should a known better. I try to help you an’ you turn crazy on me.”

  “No, you're the one who's crazy. This thing you have about black is what's crazy. I'd be out o’ here by now if it wasn't for you. There's nothin’ wrong with me. It's you. You're the one who's crazy. Why didn't you tell me what I looked like? I'm better off without you.”

  “Are you forgettin’ who's been helpin’ you get through this place? You couldn't even walk back there without my help.”

  “Yeah, well now I have some shoes and my feet are better, so —”

  “You may not know it but you still need me. You don't even know where you're goin'.”

  “I'll find my way. I don't need you. You're a lunatic.”

  “It's a good thing you don't have a mirror, Billy. You'd see what I'm seein’ and what I'm seein’ is pathetic. Adios black face.”

  Billy watches in silence as Ed Williams turns and walks away. As he does, he sees something inexplicable. The receding figure of his erstwhile companion is less than fifteen feet away when it melts into the thin air and completely disappears leaving Billy Edmonds to wonder who exactly was the strange character who crossed paths with him. The warm sun and dry wind quickly remind him of his predicament and he starts slowly walking away, but he's not the only one traversing this seemingly desolate stretch of highway. Brianna and her apprentice Calvin, are walking toward him, and when he's a few hundred yards away Calvin's sharp eyesight sees his figure in the distance.

  “There's someone walking up there ahead.”

  “It's Billy Edmonds,” Brianna says.

  “He's the one we saw back there changing his tire.”

  “That's right, but that world is now behind him. He's on his way to his new destination.”

  “What destination is that?”

  “That's something only he can decide.”

  “What will determine that?”

  “Well, if he's ready to invite a gentler strain of music into his heart, then he'll go accordingly.”

  “And if he doesn't wanna hear that music?”

  “Then he'll still go accordingly, but to a very different place.”

  “Do you know which way he'll choose?”

  “It's impossible to know. That choice is inviolable. If it wasn't, then human freedom wouldn't exist. Only Mr Edmonds can choose his destiny.”

  What if he doesn't choose anything?”

  “That's not possible here, Calvin. In this place, not making a choice is the worst choice of all. He'll declare himself. They always do.”

  “How will you know?”

  “I'll sift his words and draw him out.” Brianna looks over at Calvin and says, “You'll soon be doing what I'm doing. It's good to hear you ask these questions.”

  “I hope I'm learning.”

  “You are, just be silent and observe.”

  “Will he be able to see me?”

  “No, it's not time for that yet. It's coming.”

  As Brianna and Calvin continue walking forward, their counterpart is now aware that he's not alone on this endless highway. Billy Edmonds looks ahead and sees a figure beside the road, moving closer. Within minutes, he sees a woman approaching him and as he gets closer, he recognizes her as being someone he recently met, but he can’t recall exactly where. Seconds later she greets him.

  “Hello, Mr Edmonds.”

  “Who are you?”

  “My name is Brianna.”

  “Do I know you? I've seen you somewhere.”

  “Yes, we met along the road before.”

  “Yeah, I remember you, the lady from Africa. You were there when I was fixin’ my car. Then somethin’ happened. I remember. I heard a loud horn. There was somethin’ bright in my eyes. ... I was in some kinda tunnel. After that, I woke up in this place. What is this place? Where am I?”

  “You're in a landscape of your own making. You built this world.”

  “This place is a desert lady. Why would I make a place like this?”

  “It's not a friendly place, arid, dry and unyielding, very much like the barren hospitality of a human heart clenched with bigotry and race hatred, don't you think? You're not in Georgia any more Mr Edmonds.”

  “Well, where am I then?”

  “You're on the other side.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Do you know what happened when you were changing your tire a few nights ago along the road?”

  “What?”

  “You died, Mr Edmonds. You died to the life you knew. There was an accident. It was sudden, violent and fatal. Your earthly journey ended. You were killed.”

  “Then how come I don't feel killed?”

  “Well, how did you think it was supposed to feel Mr Edmonds?”

  “What I mean is, I don't feel like I'm dead. Look at me. I'm breathin'. I'm alive,”

  “And so you are.”

  “You say I was killed, but I'm still alive. If I didn't die, then what happened?”

  “Nothing uncommon, just another page being turned in another book of countless chapters, Mr Edmonds. That's all.”

  “Yeah, well I don't wanna read any books right now lady, but a road map would be nice. Do y
ou know the way out o’ here?”

  “Of course.”

  “Tell me which way that is.”

  “The path out of this place leads into your own heart.”

  “Oh come on. What's that supposed to mean?”

  “It means you have a choice Mr Edmonds. You can come with me. If you do, the way will be hard at first, but the journey will make you wise and strong, or you can return to the world you came from, or one very much like it. That path is quick and easy.”

  “That's the one I want.”

  “Are you really sure that's what you want?”

  “Yes, I'm sure.”

  “I'm curious. Why would you want to return to the narrow minded bigotry of the life you had? That's going backward not forward.”

  “Because that's who I am. It's my life not yours. Look, how I live my life is none o’ your business. You can call it racism or whatever you want. I don't care. I wouldn't wanna live any other way. You think I'm bigoted, you should’a heard the guy that was here with me before. You just missed him. He left before you came. He was a lunatic. You should be talkin’ to him not me.”

  “I am talking to him.”

  “Now what are you talkin’ about lady? That guy was a lot older than me.”

  “Yes, he was.”

  “Well that means you're talkin’ to me not him. He's a different person than I am.”

  “No he isn't. He is you and you are him, distilled to the very essence, or to put it more accurately, he is what you'll become in twenty years. Your soul's mirror image with twenty years added, matches perfectly to your erratic walking companion.”

  “He doesn't even look like me.”

  “That's only the surface. His appearance was an illusion. Only the presence of his corrupted soul was real. Another twenty years and your bigoted fixation on race will grow into his neurotic delusions about the color black. He is what you'll become in time. You're already both joined at the hip.”