And then an extraordinary thing happened. From far, far away across the countryside I heard the distant Boo-OO-OO-OOM! of a powerful explosion. It came from many miles away, and yet it was so loud that it could only be one thing – the sound of many boxes of dynamite exploding in the night.
Erwin heard it too. I saw his small ears twitch. I saw his crazed glare turn slowly from my strangulated face towards the sound. Miles away, above the trees on the road to Birmingham, a huge purple fireball and a cloud of smoke rose into the night like an air balloon. All across the valley, as far as the mauve mountains, we heard its mighty echo:
Boo-OO-OO-OO-OOO-MMmm!
‘What ’n tarnation . . .?’
I saw the confusion on his face and felt his fingers slacken on my throat. Instantly my consciousness was sucked back into my body.
I did not hesitate for a second. I touched the side of his face gently with two fingertips and turned his head towards me. Then, fixing my eyes firmly on his, I channelled all the energy that was in me – the energy of The Voice of the Wind, and Morrow the Mesmerist, and all the Gifted Ones. And I whispered, ‘Erwin . . . It’s me . . . It’s Jack . . . You remember me now, don’t you . . .?’
‘Huh!’
It was working! I could feel the difference. I felt The Gift awakening.
With a sideways movement, I slipped free of his grip and nudged him softly downwards with my fingertips. Then I placed myself slightly above him, so that I could look down into his eyes. And all the while I tried to ignore the fierce pain in my throat and a horrible burning sensation in my eyes.
‘You’ve been busy, Erwin . . . so you haven’t noticed how tired you are . . . and you are very, very tired now . . . It’s been a long day . . . It’s been a long life . . .’
‘Wha’ th’ . . .?’
I felt conviction growing in my voice. The surprise of finding my face beneath the hood . . . the explosion in the night – it had all disorientated him. Maintaining that soft pressure with my fingertips, I willed him to kneel before me. And kneel he did, like a conquered gladiator in the sand.
‘That’s right, Erwin . . . Now you can rest . . . You see the way your hand floats up . . . Maybe you would like to curl up now and rest beneath the tower – that’s fine – you look into my eyes and you keep on relaxing . . . You think you can’t relax any more, but you can, Erwin . . . truly you can . . .’
Now I had him. I would not let him go.
Slowly his expression changed. He gripped his head in his hands like a wounded child, twitching and blinking erratically.
‘You see, I’ve been waiting to talk with you, Erwin . . . I’ve been waiting to tell you that my voice is the voice you have always known . . . It’s the voice of the night and the voice of the wind and the sound of the waves on the shore . . .’
‘Th’ wind, goddamn it – thar ain’t . . . thar ain’t no wind . . .’
He was trying to resist, and yet I could tell that the aggression had deserted him. Now he began to rock and shake in a bizarre animalistic manner, forwards and backwards, making weird moaning sounds like a creature in pain.
My confidence escalated. I felt intoxicated by my power. You see, hypnosis is not about physical strength; it’s about mental strength, and the more I took control of his mind, the more powerful I became.
Erwin was staring up at me with wild pleading eyes, stammering. ‘Ha-ha-ha-ha . . .!’
‘Now you’re really beginning to relax, Erwin, and that’s good . . . Let’s count backwards together . . . Ten . . . nine . . .’
‘Ha-ha-ha-hate! Hate! HATE!’
He half rose and I thought the spell was broken. But all I did was calmly touch the huge dome of his forehead with one fingertip, and he was back in my spell. The Minotaur was defeated!
His huge body rocked in time with the counting. His gaze never left my eyes, but he pressed his hands to his ears.
‘Four . . . three . . . two . . . one . . .’
And then, to my amazement, Erwin collapsed onto his side like a falling tree in a forest. He lay curled in a foetal position, whimpering and staring up at me pathetically. The fellow was in meltdown.
‘Erwin, I’m going take you right back to your happy place . . . You remember, don’t you?’
He sniffed and jerked and trembled and stared. ‘Yeah, ah wanna be happy . . . but . . . but ah wanna keel! Hate, hate, hate!’
‘Not hate, Erwin . . . love.’
‘Hate . . .’
‘Love . . .’
He was on his back now, like a helpless beetle. And his eyes were gazing upwards at the endless ladders of the tower, which rose, rung by mighty rung, to where the moon hung in the wires.
Now I repositioned myself so that I stood with my legs astride him, like Jack the Giant Killer in the picture books.
As I took him deeper and deeper into trance, I searched desperately for a plan. I thought about Pip and Hannah. I thought of all the terrible things that Erwin was capable of doing.
‘Relax . . . relax . . . deeper . . . deeper . . . deeper . . .’
Then it came to me! A moment of pure inspiration! How obvious could it be! Right above our heads was the steel tower. Did I possess the power to make this man climb?
I glanced quickly upwards . . . No, it wouldn’t work! There was a barbed-wire canopy about twenty feet above the ground. Its whole purpose was to stop anyone foolish enough to climb.
Be calm, Jack. Be still. Stop and think . . .
I knew that the hypnotized mind could be strangely logical and precise. It enjoyed specific tasks. So how would a fellow get past that barbed-wire fence? Wire-cutters of some kind? Surely there would be some kind of tool at the farm.
But that was ridiculous! I couldn’t send the fellow home to fetch the equipment to kill himself! In any case, it dawned on me for the first time, I didn’t have it in me to actually kill a man – not even Erwin. I was a vegetarian, for God’s sake! I didn’t have the heart to eat a sausage!
And then I realized that I had killed a man . . . I had sent four men to their deaths that very night. It was I who had destroyed the pickup truck with the Klansmen inside.
But they were murderers for sure. The only regret I should feel is that I hadn’t destroyed both vehicles with all those bastards inside. Even now, the four remaining Klansmen were speeding towards some deadly mission in Birmingham.
No. I had to be as steely as the tower above me. I looked down at Erwin’s glazed eyes with their peculiar dilated pupils.
And then I thought of Hannah – that strong young woman who had lived in terror for so long. And suddenly my plan was clear: I would plant hypnotic commands deep within Erwin’s mind, so that if he ever touched her, Hannah could trigger his downfall.
‘Erwin, I want you to look upwards . . . Look up at the tower . . . Can you imagine how good it would feel to climb? You have always wanted more power, and up there is where the power lies . . . All you need to do is climb . . . up and up . . . Imagine how wonderful you would feel . . . Taller and more powerful than any man alive . . . When you climb hand over hand . . . up the ladder and into the starry sky . . . you would be like a god, Erwin . . .’
‘Laike . . . laike a gawd . . .’
‘Yes . . . Like a god . . . You would be higher and more powerful than anyone in the army . . . higher than anyone in the Klan . . .’
Erwin began to push himself to his feet. ‘Ah’m gonna claimb . . . Watch me, Momma! Watch me claimb!’
‘Not yet, Erwin . . . not yet . . . Look at me again . . . Look deep into my eyes . . .’
‘Your ahs, goddammit!’
‘I am Jack . . . I am your friend . . .’
‘Yo’ mah freend . . .’
‘Soon I will leave you . . . You will sleep a long time and then you will wake . . . You will remember nothing about this conversation, but later you may hear some words – and they will be special words, just for you, Erwin . . . What will they be?’
‘Speshul woids.’
�
��That’s right, they will be Erwin’s special words . . . and when you hear those special words, you will know exactly what to do . . . You will rise up, Erwin, wherever you are . . . You will seek out whatever equipment you need to cut through the barbed wire . . . What tools will you need, Erwin?’
‘Lemme see . . . Ah reck’n bolt-cutters do th’ job – long-handl’d is best . . .’
‘Long-handled bolt-cutters . . . yes, that will do the job . . . Then you will return, Erwin, to this very place . . . You will walk across the fields, past the red barn, and you will come back to this holy place . . .’
Maybe I was overdoing it. I’m like my ma – we’ve always enjoyed the theatrical!
‘Then you will climb, Erwin . . . like a god. You will climb the tower, higher and higher . . . What will you do, Erwin?’
‘Ah’m gonna claimb. Ah’m gonna claimb higher than evah before . . .’
‘Yes, you will climb, Erwin . . . You won’t let anyone stop you . . .’
‘Ah’m gonna claimb laike a gawd . . . Ain’t no one gonna stop me . . .’
‘But not now, Erwin . . . You need to wait until you hear the special words . . . I’m speaking to your unconscious mind right now . . . These words are settling deep, deep in your mind . . . Now I’m going to tell you the special words, Erwin . . . and the special words are these . . .’
When I had told him the words and made him repeat them, I walked away across the fields. I turned once, but he was still there, curled beneath the tower. As I came to the red barn, I paused for a moment to pull off the hateful white robe. I rolled it into a ball and tossed it into the back of Erwin’s Jeep.
Then I went back to the bungalow and waited by my suitcases until dawn, holding ice to the bruises on my throat.
Something had happened to my eyesight.
I did not sleep.
44
Rise Up Silent People
rise up silent people
the scared the poor the weak
rise up silent people
now its time to speak
cherokee apache navajo sioux
all of them was silenced hannah was too
rise up silent women
like birds who find their wing
rise up silent women
now its time to sing
nooksack chickasaw cheyenne crow
all of them was silenced a long time ago
rise up silent children
let your anger out
rise up silent children
now its time to shout
seminole seneca blackfeet creek
all of us was silenced
now its time to speak
45
Flight of the Hypnotist
High above Dead River, angry clouds assembled like a mob for a lynching. The air was dense with electricity.
Pip kept his promise. Early that Sunday morning, he and Hannah walked across the track to wait with Jack for the taxi.
They got a shock when they saw him. Jack was sitting on the deck of the bungalow, one hand stretched out to hold the tabletop, gazing into space like a sightless old man.
‘Ah now, it’s my favourite people,’ he said when he heard them coming.
Pip rushed to his side. ‘Jack, what’s wrong? Why ain’t you looking at us?’
‘Well, it’s true, Pip, the old peepers are playing up a bit. It’s not something I talk about, but I’ve had a few problems with my eyesight over the years and now they’ve gone a bit wonky. It’ll sort itself out, I’m sure, so there’s no need to worry.’
‘I am worried, Jack. I think we need to call a doctor—’
‘Pip, any minute now the taxi will be arriving. I’m going home, old fellow. But if it hasn’t settled by the time I get to Dublin, I’ll see someone about it – although perhaps that’s not the best expression!’
Pip waved his hand from side to side in front of Jack’s face, but there was no reaction. He noticed another odd thing: in spite of the oppressive heat, Jack had a scarf wrapped around his throat.
‘Hannah,’ Jack was saying. ‘Where are you, darling girl? We haven’t got long and there’s something very important I need to say to you. Will you sit beside me for a while? And perhaps Pip would be kind enough to carry my bags down the steps.’
Pip began the task of hauling the heavy luggage to the side of the track. As he laboured, he watched Hannah and Jack side by side on the swing seat, Jack talking earnestly to Hannah in a quiet voice, and Hannah holding his hand and nodding from time to time.
After a while the cab approached in a cloud of dust, and when the driver got out, Pip heaved the bags into the trunk. The driver ignored Pip as if he were an invisible houseboy, but he called up to Jack in a friendly way, ‘Headin’ fer th’ airport, sir? There’s one helluva storm headin’ our way!’
With Hannah’s help, Jack rose slowly to his feet. And just as the man had said, there was a rumble of distant thunder over the mauve mountains and jagged lightning slashed at the sky.
Carefully Jack locked the bungalow and tucked the keys under the mat. He climbed slowly down from the deck, toes searching for each step, leaning on Hannah’s arm all the while. He reached out for Pip and an expression of contempt spread across the driver’s face as the Black boy and the White man embraced each other. Then the man’s expression changed to utter astonishment as Jack kissed Pip tenderly on each cheek and wiped a tear which tumbled from the boy’s eye.
‘I’ll be away now, Pip. But you’ll come and see me with Hannah, won’t you, old fellow? Ireland is a beautiful place – perhaps I’ll move out to Kerry . . . the mountains and the sea . . . Ah, you should see it, Pip! So very blue, so very green, it is . . .’
What Pip wanted to say was that he felt the same love for this man as he had for his own father, but the words would not come. Instead he guided Jack silently towards the taxi and helped him into his seat.
‘Promise you’ll never forget; your names are linked – Pip and Hannah . . . palindromes, see.’
‘Same forward an’ backward, Jack!’
‘That’s right, Hannah. The same forward and backward. You look after each other, you two. Do you hear me, now?’
In the back seat of the cab, Jack wound down the window and raised his arm in a wave. One last time Pip had the sensation of falling into the wise eyes of Dr Morrow, where, just for a second, the mists of the Kerry moors seemed to swirl.
Hannah took Pip’s hand as the taxi bumped away along the dirt track, and the whole world trembled with the approaching storm. They watched until the cab turned onto the main street by the poplar trees. And as the dust settled, it was lost from view.
Pip wandered sadly into the farmhouse, but just as he was about to fetch water for Lilybelle’s wash, he heard a sound he had never heard before: instead of the familiar teasing tinkle, Lilybelle was clanging her handbell frantically. Pip snapped out of his reverie and raced along the corridor. He burst into the bedroom where he found Lilybelle sitting upright at the end of her bed. She seemed deeply distressed, with one hand over her mouth and the other pointing at a news item on the TV.
‘Pip! Pip! Come an’ watch. Thar’s been a terrible incident in Birmingham . . . Jes’ terrible, Pip . . .’
Pip rushed to her side. He saw an agitated reporter holding a microphone beside a pile of rubble at the back of a large modern church. The man was trying to make himself heard above the din of sirens and yelling reporters and wailing women dressed in their Sunday best.
As Pip watched the appalling sight of bodies being removed on stretchers, the reporter was saying, ‘I’m standing by the sixteenth Street Baptist Church here in Birmingham, Alabama. As you can see, there is absolute chaos here . . . It’s a truly dreadful sight. Details are emerging as I speak, but it seems that in the early hours of this morning, 15th September 1963, persons unknown have planted dynamite and, I guess, a time-delay system, beneath the steps of this famous African-American church. As you may know, this church is used as a meeting place for
civil rights leaders, including Martin Luther King himself, although we believe that Dr King was not present today. I repeat, Dr King was not present at the time of the explosion . . .’
The man spoke urgently into his microphone as firefighters hosed the smouldering debris behind him. ‘Now, the information we are receiving is that at 10.22 this morning, twenty-six children were preparing for a sermon when the dynamite exploded . . . A lady has just told me that the title of this morning’s sermon was “The Love That Forgives” . . .’
Tears were streaming down Lilybelle’s face as the report continued, ‘Tragically I can now confirm that four little Black girls aged between eleven and fourteen have lost their lives . . .’ Visibly moved, the reporter consulted a piece of paper in his hand. ‘The names of those children are Addie Mae Collins, Denise McNair, Carole Robertson and Cynthia Wesley. Police have confirmed that a further twenty-two people have been seriously injured in the blast. As you can seen behind me, every window in this church has been blown out by the explosion . . . except one – a stained glass showing Christ leading a group of little children . . .
‘You will understand that investigations are at an early stage, but I think we have a pretty good idea of who is behind this brutal attack – as regular viewers to this station will know, we have witnessed more than fifty terrorist bombings against Coloured people in this city, which have all been linked to the Invisible Army of the Ku Klux Klan. We must conclude that the Klan are the main suspects, but this crime against innocent children attending Sunday school has hit a new low. As I speak, rioting is spreading through the city, and two more Black children . . . I repeat, two more Black children have been killed, one at the hands of a police officer . . .’
All day Pip went sorrowfully about his tasks in the ever-building heat. There was plenty to do – Zachery had told him to board up windows and secure anything that might be damaged by the storm. As he worked, Pip tried to divert his mind from the tragic events in Birmingham and the sad memory of Jack’s departure by focusing on the plans that he and Hannah had made. Before the week was out they would pack their few belongings, collect Pip’s money from its hiding place in the secret valley and walk away for ever.
The Hypnotist Page 20