by Sandy Nathan
“OK. I’ll punch it.”
Bud pulled his hat off his head and whacked his only partly civilized horse in the flank with it. The horse leapt forward like it had been waiting for the chance. That mustang was made to run, which is why Bud picked him.
Bud shoved his heels down and took a deep seat in the saddle. Ground flew past him as the cayuse stormed across the pasture. The three-beat cadence of the gallop filled his ears. The horse’s legs moved like scissors, reaching out and pulling the ground in. Bud sat like a Native Buddha as the powerful animal beneath him heaved and blew. Sensations and sounds merged as he flew.
And then he heard nothing but his ancestors’ prayers, blessing his way. Would they be enough?
Wes jumped when Bud came galloping up alongside him, gesturing at the bucket. He rattled to a stop.
“What’s the matter?” he shouted.
“Sam’s in trouble. Drop the bucket. We have to get him out of there.” Bud swung off his horse and pulled the tarp off the bucket. “Oh, no. Help me, Wes. Get him on the ground over here, and some of those mats under him.”
Wes froze when he saw Sam. He was as gray as the people who had just escaped the underground. His arms were pulled up on his chest, crossed over with his hands like claws. Wes had seen people who were almost dead in that position.
“I’m sorry, Bud. I didn’t know.”
Bud looked at him carefully. Wes quailed. They both knew that at one time, Wes could feel what was going on with anyone around him as well as Grandfather could. This wouldn’t have happened if Wes was who he had been.
“I’m sorry. I couldn’t tell.” His voice was a wail.
“I know, Wes,” Bud said with all the kindness he could muster. “But I got to help him fast or I won’t be able to. You make sure the rest get to the cliff safely. That’s your job. I’ve given everyone orders. Jeremy and Martin will stay with me.”
Grace rode up. She looked at Sam on the ground and her face went white. She started to swing off her mount.
“No, Grace,” Bud said. “He won’t heal if you’re here. You’ve got to go …
“Henry, take her away. I got to get to work. You all have your assignments. Now do them.”
59
The minute Bud stood next to Sam, the Power hit him so hard he couldn’t think. He sat down on Sam’s left side. A gray cloud came up around them, straight out of the earth. He couldn’t see any of the others outside or even hear what they were doing. The outside world might have ceased entirely for all he knew. He’d seen Grandfather surrounded by such a cloud and knew that you couldn’t see in if you were outside.
Jeremy led Martin through the gray wall. Only those who were supposed to be there could enter. Jeremy sat cross-legged by Sam’s right shoulder and Martin sat next to him, by Sam’s hip. They leaned over him, stricken by his terrible condition.
Bud’s eyes closed and the Power took over. He spread his hands over Sam and said, “Oh Great One, You know we’ve got a sick man here. Please heal him. We’ll do whatever we have to do to see Your will done. We’re waiting on You. Please release this good man from whatever’s put him like this.”
Bud opened his eyes. He was back in the Bigs’ chamber with the battle against the spiders raging. Then he and the others were in the lower level, beneath the main hall. The air around them glowed too white for actual reality. Everything but what mattered was bleached out. He had been pulled into a very powerful vision.
The spider queen’s pearly white abdomen pulsed as she squeezed out eggs. Her mandible was split in the middle, opening like a nutcracker. Her spiky feet aimed a human’s lower leg at her jaws. A red trickle ran down her opalescent belly.
“Oh, Sam! Kill me! Kill me if y’ can find it in yer heart. If y’ ever loved me, kill me. She’s eatin’ me piece by piece.” Sam Big’s voice grabbed Bud’s attention.
Suspended from the ceiling by spider silk, Sam Big’s malformed head shone in the vision’s surreal brilliance. Terror lit his eyes. With his severed hands and missing lower leg, Sam Big looked like a freshly killed steer hung to bleed out. His eyes locked on Sam’s.
That moment froze. Sam looked at his tormenter, transfixed.
“If y’ ever loved me, kill me.” The words filled the space, filled their minds.
“If y’ ever loved me, kill me.”
Sam came to life, leveling his machine gun and ripping Sam Big with bullets. He tore him apart.
“If y’ ever loved me, kill me.”
Bud sat quietly, the words rattling around their private world within the gray mist shroud. Bud wanted to ask Sam something, but he couldn’t speak.
Abruptly, the scene changed. Bud was in a darkened underground chamber. Sam Big was lying next to him, facing him. He must have been lying down, too, because Big’s misshapen face with its heavy brows and cheekbones was right before his eyes. Bud realized he was in Sam’s body, lying with Sam Big.
The other man looked at him, eyes soft and wondering, feelings flickering over his face. Awe, fear, and love. Definitely love. Sam Big reached out and stroked him, whispering something in the language of the village. An endearment. He continued to caress Sam, looking at him in amazement.
Bud heard Sam’s voice, not a true voice; Sam was too close to death to speak with a physical voice. Still his voice filled Bud’s mind.
“I saw him when he was naked.” The words came out slowly. “I saw him when there was just him and me.”
The vision continued. It was a scene of love.
“Aye, I loved him,”’ Sam’s voice continued. “I saw who he was without the sickness and his friends to make him bad.
“He watched out for me. The others would have killed me. He kept them away. He knew I was saving the babies, and he didn’t stop me.
“I loved him.”
The truth of that filled them as completely as Sam Big’s desperate plea had earlier.
Sam lay still for a moment, and then his jaw clenched and his hands formed fists. His fury erupted like the Bigs’ rage.
“And I hated him!” Sam exploded, words charged with everything he’d suffered.
“He loved me, and he …” Sam threw his hands in the air, face contorted. “He killed my sister …
“He put the eye in me. He knew it would kill me. He knew how it would hurt …”
Sam drew up his hands and howled, expressing the misery of living in a place where love promised betrayal, nothing was sacred, and love and pain and sex and filth were intertwined. An unmoored universe with no escape. His cry beat against them.
“Oh, Sam!” Jeremy leaned over Sam, grabbing his shoulders. “I’m so sorry.” He peered into Sam’s tightly closed eyes. “When I made the shelter, I wanted to make a place where good people could grow and live. I wanted to make a better world, not one where that happened.
“I wanted things to be nice, Sam.” Jeremy opened and closed his eyes furiously. “I’m sorry, Sam. I didn’t want what happened down there.”
Sam opened his eyes and looked into Jeremy’s. “Aye, lad. I know what ye wanted. It’s in the Book. But it wasn’t what happened.” Cascades of tears ran down Sam’s cheeks.
“Ah know that he loved me, and ah loved him. It wasn’t what ah wanted, but it happened. And he did what he did, knowing it would kill me. Like love was nothing. Like it was a lie.”
“It’s not a lie, Sam,” Jeremy grabbed him again. “You said you wanted me for your son. You wanted me because you love me. I can feel it. Don’t die, Sam. Don’t take that away!” Jeremy’s voice approached a wail.
“Don’t die, Sam!” He pulled so hard on Sam’s shoulders that he hauled him to a half-sitting position. Sam put his arms around Jeremy.
“Ah won’t leave thee, son. Not if ah can help …”
“Don’t leave us, either,” Martin piped up. “Sam—we need you. An’ we love you.” He pitched himself at Sam, grabbing him around the midsection, the only area he could reach.
“I love you, Sam,” Jeremy and Martin said at
once. Sam’s long arms reached around both of them.
“And we don’t care what happened in the underground. It’s over, Sam. I don’t care what happened to you or what Sam Big did or what you did. It’s over.”
“Now is the time we get out and make a better world, Sam,” Martin said. “That’s what the Book says. We’re the good people. We’re supposed to make a good place. All of us, with you leading us.” Martin was insistent.
“Do you want to live, Sam Good Man?” Bud wasn’t aware of what he was doing. The Power blotted out everything. He bent over Sam, who had his arms wrapped around Jeremy and Martin. “Do you want to live, Sam?” He put his face in Sam’s.
“Yes,” Sam cried. “Ah want to live with all m’ heart. Ah want to be here and live.”
“Good.” Bud rose onto his knees and turned toward Sam’s legs. He grabbed the coverings Ellie had put on them with both hands. The casts let out a loud Crack! and split from top to bottom down the front, falling open like halves of shells.
Bud looked at Sam’s legs. Spots of green and streaks of red indicated gangrene and blood poisoning. Sam would be dead within hours because of his legs, but they weren’t the real problem. Yellow vapor and a vile odor rose from Sam’s calves when the casts let loose. The yellow powder creeping toward them from the shelter had smelled the same. Golden swirls peppered with darkness rose from his lower legs and eddied above them. Sam’s legs had black tracings over them, like colonies of mildew reaching out to touch each other. He was shot with rot.
“You’re cursed, Sam. This is a black curse.”
The vapors rising over him compressed into a figure. The doctor’s golden form appeared in the mist, eyes a bit larger than they had been in life, his body sticklike. He had long limbs that moved stiffly at knobby joints. He looked less human than he had before. The doctor rose ten feet above Sam, staring down at him with loathing.
“I am going to kill you,” he hissed. He pointed at Sam’s face. “You are dead.” Sam stared back, aghast. The doctor turned to Jeremy. “I am going to kill you, and you.” He pointed to Martin.
“No, you’re not,” Bud’s voice was calm.
The creature turned to him. “Why not?”
“Because I won’t let you.” Bud found himself standing face-to-face with the doctor, far above the other men.
“I will kill you.” The doctor pushed Bud’s chest, growing taller, filling the sky above the meadow.
“No, you won’t.” Bud pushed back, hard. He grew just as big as his opponent.
The doctor screamed at him, enraged. He kept growing, and Bud rose with him. They soared above the meadows, feet scrambling for a toehold. They fought, grappling and tearing, punching and gouging.
Bud didn’t look down; he just kept giving what the Power gave him to dish out. The doctor seemed to know how to fight better than you’d think a peace-loving alien would. He grabbed Bud by the short and curlies. Bud bent forward and started to yell, but rage overtook him. He rammed the doctor in the belly with his head. It was like ramming a Gummy Bear, those disgusting jelled candies his kids loved. Bud tore after his opponent with his teeth, which caused the doc to loosen his grip. Bud took advantage by kneeing the doctor in the groin, giving back what he’d been given. The doctor screamed, apparently not knowing what it felt like to have his new equipment assaulted.
That put some life in the yellow boy, who came after Bud, swinging wildly. Bud kept his elbows in and watched where he punched. Gumby could be hurt, but it tended to hurt Bud just as much. The doctor leapt at him, and Bud gave him a one-two punch in the face. That stopped him, but only for a minute. The doc was back, slugging better, learning from Bud.
He swung away, not knowing how much time had passed. His knuckles were bloody and he was past winded. The doctor was equally spent, looking at Bud with surprise. The doctor held up his hand, indicating he needed a break. Bud stepped back, catching his breath and staring at his opponent. Something occurred to him. The problem and the solution.
“You’re all wrong,” he bellowed.
The doctor pulled the punch he was getting ready to throw. “What?”
“You can’t win. Everything about you is wrong. Look at you. Anyone in your world saw you, they’d laugh. What the hell is that hanging down to your knees? What did you do to get that?” Bud pointed between the doctor’s legs.
“You call that natural? There’s nothin’ natural about that at all. You couldn’t make babies with that. What did you do to yourself?” Bud was outraged. “And why?”
The doctor looked at Bud proudly. “It’s magnificent.”
“What did you do to get that stupid thing?” Bud jeered. “Have surgery? Eat pills? Take hormones?”
The doctor was taken aback. “I went through a series of treatments …”
“Well, there’s where you went wrong. If you were supposed to look like that, you would already. But you have to go messing with what you’re given and what’s right for your kind. You’re against the Law!”
“What law?”
“The Law, the Natural Law. The Law of the Great One that created this universe and keeps it going. God’s Law. You’re outside all of that, and what you did is outside of that. You are an abomination, that’s why you stink.” Bud stood outraged. “I rebuke you in the name of the One that created and upholds the universe.
“Look at what you did and why you did it. Every bit of it was outside the Law. You lusted after a woman who didn’t want you and did all sorts of unnatural things to yourself in hopes she would. And she didn’t, did she?”
“No.” The doctor blanched.
“She told you she was married to another man, didn’t she? You were lusting after another man’s wife! That’s really against the Law, buddy.
“So you tried to kill him. You’re still trying to kill him. Now you’re trying to kill me and everyone else on this planet. All because she didn’t want you.
“But you did more than that. You destroyed your own planet’s goodness, getting them hooked on smut TV. That’s evil. And you got hooked yourself, grabbing on to impure thoughts? You did, didn’t you? So all you want now is more and more filth.
“You will stop now!” Bud waved his hands as though he was sweeping away dirt.
The doctor opened his mouth and disappeared. Poof! Gone. Bud looked down. It looked like he was on top of a huge skyscraper, like the world below was a toy. As the doctor vanished, he could see the yellow stain over the meadow whisked away.
“You scare me so much. You scare me to death.” Bud was normal-sized, kneeling by Sam. He hid his face in his hands and trembled. The other three men stared at him.
His chest heaved as he tried to figure out what had happened. He put one hand on his heart. “Oh, Great One, You scare me so much. You are mighty. You are good. But You are so big.
“I’m an ordinary man. I’m not big like You. I seen You make Wesley and Grandfather huge like that, but I’m just ordin– …” Something like thunder rolled around them and Bud gasped, “OK, I’m whatever You want me to be. You want me to be big, I’ll be big. Whatever You want.”
Bud’s eyes fell on Sam’s exposed lower legs. They were riddled with disease. He began speaking in a voice that was more exaggerated than his normal country diction and sing-song in its cadence.
“What kind of a mess is this? My, my. This is a’ infected mess. We can’t have that. Take this, you disease, get out of here.” He scooped out gangrene and bacteria, throwing them in a pile near Sam’s feet.
“I just hate this mess. Look at this mess, Great One. All green and cruddy. Clear out, you mess.” Bud looked up and saw Sam staring at him. “Sam, you might want to lie back now. Shouldn’t hurt a bit.” Sam flopped back on the mat and didn’t move. Bud’s hands sunk into his legs and pulled out internal decay.
“Oh, dear. This man needs skin on his legs, Lord. Let’s have some skin here, and all around here. Look at those feet! They don’t have any covering at all. He needs a resole. A good, thick resole. Dou
ble resole. Make this man fit to run a marathon in his bare feet. Cover those pinkies!”
He grabbed Sam’s feet, which had only suggestions of new skin growing on them. “Skin. We need skin. All up and down here.” His hands moved up and down Sam’s calves.
“Now that’s better! That’s what I like to see: lots of skin. Oh, Lord, now make it match the rest. That color don’t match. Don’t want to scare anyone if ol’ Sam goes wadin’. Now watch out here, y’see. Little too much skin here.
“Kinda overdid it between the toes, Lord. Ol’ Sam’s feet look like Sea World. Like a web-footed creature. Le’ me do this,” Bud sculpted Sam’s feet, pushing the edge of his hand between his toes. “There, that’s better. I must say, I love this Power. I love it when You come to me, Lord. I’ll do whatever You want for You to come to me.” He took a good look at Sam’s injuries. “Well, you look pretty good, Sam.”
Bud sat back like he might be finished, but he looked over at Martin and frowned. “Oh, lookee here. Here’s a man who can’t see. That’s a shame.” He leapt up, just like he wasn’t verging on middle-aged with creaky knees, and stood behind Martin. Bud put his hands over Martin’s eyes.
“Oh, you can’t see, you poor thing.” Bud considered, hands resting lightly on Martin’s face. “Except you can see.” He experienced what Martin did. “You can see things others don’t know. You can see the truth, and the other world. Spirit World, my people call it. You can see, but not like other people.” He was silent a moment.
“Martin,” Bud leaned around to speak to his face, hands still over the other man’s eyes, “would you like to see like the rest of us? Would you like to see Sam’s handsome face—or Jeremy’s pretty brown skin? Would you like to see them and the world you’re used to?”
“Yes. Ah would like to see.” No hesitation from Martin.
“OK. I can do somethin’ about that.” Bud’s fingers slipped into Martin’s skull. “Oh, yeah, we got a bad connection here. A bad connection. Let’s pull this out and move this around. Put these together. And these aren’t even formed yet. Let’s see about this.”