Babylon Rolling

by Amanda Boyden

  “His stomach’s bothering him again, I guess.”

  “We can suppose,” Prancie says and closes the door.

  It is not enough. It is not even close. She returns to the parlor.

  Ed stands on Joe’s porch and plops his hands on his hips. Yesterday, Joe had confirmed their regular visit to the Rose today, hell or high water. They even toasted to it. What’s up?

  Ed knocks again. Something feels not right. He looks behind him. He goes down the porch steps and looks both directions on the street. Uh oh. There’s why. Daniel Harris lopes up the blacktop in Ed’s direction. He can tell from the way the kid walks that he’s carrying a gun. Ed knows how to tell now. Power is power.

  Ed’s not done anything to instigate another confrontation since that night, he doesn’t think. He hasn’t ‘fucked with’ Daniel ’n his. He hopes he hasn’t.

  Prancie has never forgotten a word Joe has said to her. She does not think so at the moment. Regardless. She knows the location of what she needs as well as what to do.

  Trying to watch out for Daniel, Ed goes up the steps and knocks again. Philomenia doesn’t answer the door a second time. Through the sheer curtain, beyond the foyer, someone moves around in the formal living room. Ed watches and then slaps at the glass oval repeatedly, his wedding ring clinking loudly. The person inside ignores Ed’s racket.

  Behind him, he feels Daniel approach on the street and stop. The hairs on the back of Ed’s neck stand up. “Don’t go breakin’ down no doors, Rescue Man,” the kid says.

  The silhouetted figure finally moves into the foyer. Ed knows, from the size, that it’s Philomenia. He hopes she’ll let him come in until Daniel leaves.

  She swings the door wide open with a flourish and steps back. It smashes against the wall behind. “Ed Flank,” she says flatly and lifts both her arms. She holds something. It takes him a second to recognize the object. She levels an enormous revolver at his head.

  Fearius see somethin he not sure all real.

  Rescue Man be backin down the steps away from witchy Miss Philomenia an then all a sudden he dive into her big ass bushes. She be packing. She really fuckin packing. Philomenia gots herself a gun, and she pointin it at Rescue Man.

  What happen with Fearius life that everything seem outta a game or some such he dont know. But there it be, presentin itself on this earth in the daylight. He like twenty feet back, standin in the street, and it goin down plain as a face, or a hand in front a face. Whatever they say. Fearius reach in his pants for the Jericho.

  The gun blast hurts Prancie’s wrist. She did not expect it. Behind the moths, the man has become lost in the ginger. She can hear him in there. Leaves rustle. They wave green shadows behind the moths. She pulls on the trigger with her finger again, but it does not go as easily. There! It fires! Joe warned her that subsequent shots would be more difficult to move into the chamber without cocking. There! Again!

  The tiny lady be tryin to kill Rescue Man with a .45. She come down off her porch and wave around the big gun at her ginger plants. Fearius hold his place, watchin the scene, when Rescue Man come racin like a dog out the bushes on all fours. He struggle up onto his feet.

  Fearius gots the Jericho ready. Ol Philomenia put another shot into her ginger. She blind now? Maybe she losin her sight. All the days Fearius ever know her, they always something off about the lady.

  Rescue Man run then. He motherfuckin run at Fearius standin in the middle the street an hide behind him. What the fuck? Fearius gone be a wall? Maybe. Rescue Man hold on to Fearius shoulders, press his head into Fearius back. The man crouchin.

  OK. Sure. Fearius a big wall. A big mofo wall. Hell yeah. He can rescue Rescue Man. Fearius point the Jericho at crazy ol Philomenia and wait for her to see him. Showin her she best stop her shit now. But she turn around blinkin with her head tiltin up like she only followin a smell. She step out into the street. Her eyes way wrong, wagglin around, showin the whites. Nuh uh.

  Fearius back up, bump on Rescue Man.

  They be a noise and then Fearius chest feel hot. Something go funny with his knees. He step around a little doin a dance he dont know the moves for, and then he on the ground. He try raise the Jericho but some reason his hand not workin right. Rescue Man sit down right behind him. Fearius sorta on top Rescue Man. Maybe he help Fearius out with liftin the gun. It always be heavy.

  She believes she has gotten him directly. The shadowy mass drops onto the street. There. She is done. What the future might hold is not hers to know.

  Prancie raises the revolver toward the mouse. It chews beneath her jaw. She knows. She knows it is not real. Fresh herbs rest on her counter. She could still feed more mouths real food. She was a girl once, with a scythe scar, who wanted to see the world. Prancie pulls the trigger hard.

  Ed watches the top of Philomenia’s head shower down around her onto the street. She is suddenly a marionette with cut strings, collapsing into a heap of thin limbs and a ruined face. Nothing makes sense. He can hear nothing but the echo of the gunshot in his ears.

  Sitting on his ass, Ed moves his shaking hands over Daniel, lifting the boy’s shirt. He has been shot in the chest. The hole in the top of his rib cage makes a sucking noise as Daniel tries to breathe. Ed considers CPR, but he doesn’t know what to do about pumping on a sternum so near a bullet wound. He thinks he remembers a moment from first-aid class that told him not to do it. Ed presses his palm over the hole.

  The sky has caught the kid’s fascination. He trembles in some kind of seizure. Ed becomes aware of the expansive pool of bright red blood for the first time in the brilliant daylight. It seeps around Ed’s legs. Where is everybody?

  God. This cannot be happening. He is just a boy. His skin is as smooth as Miles’. He is just a boy.

  Ed looks up and sees the moon through tears.

  He picks up the boy’s head and places it in his lap.

  Fearius feel warm. The left side his shirt wet, but he feel fine. He spot the moon again up in the blue sky. A great big bird come over and block out the light. A hand go on his face, nice and soft.

  “It’s Ed,” a man say. “It’s Ed. I’m here.”

  Ed? Oh, yeah. It time. “I gone get rescued, right?”

  26

  Cerise and Roy turn the corner onto Orchid. The sirens they kept hearin’ have to do with their own street. No, no, no, no. Something terrible has happened. Two ambulances and way too many police cars are parked every which way. A big part is marked off with yellow police tape. From across the street, another police car come pullin’ up with its siren on, turn hard, and stop.

  Cerise starts jogging. “Don’t you dare, Cherry!” Roy yells. “You ruin one hand already!” Roy catches up to Cerise and takes her arm.

  “Shh,” he says. “Shh. We find out. You not gone do nothing right now.” They have most of another block to go.

  “Oh, what happen?” Cerise walks fast as Roy lets her. “What happen?” she asks. “You don’t see Marie’s car, right?”

  “Aw, hell.” Now Roy’s understanding. Much as they enjoy some of their neighbors, the thought of their daughter being hurt sinks down to the bone like a fishing knife, fast. They both twist their heads around, lookin’ and lookin’. “I don’t see her car,” Roy says. “I don’t see it. Thank you, heavens, I don’t see it.”

  They keep walkin fast till they get up to the yellow tape. There’s blood all over, wet in the street, with little stand-up triangle markers around. It’s horrible. Miss Philomenia and Joe’s front door’s open. Walkie-talkie noise comes from every direction, and there’s lots of people going in and out the open door. They wheel somebody out the house right then, the head of the person on the gurney covered in bandages with blood showing through. Cerise puts down her wooden suitcase and lays her good hand on Roy’s arm.

  The paramedics yell for all the police to move and go down the porch fast.

  “It Joe,” Roy says.

  “You can tell? Maybe. It gotta be, right?”

  “It him.
It Joe. I know his drivin shoes he wear.”

  “He’s beatin’ the cancer though, I heard. You see Miss Philomenia?”

  “No.” He looks around, lifting his head high and standing on his toes. “No, I don’t.”

  “Our house is in there,” Cerise says right as she figures it out. “We can get in. I’m goin’.” Cerise slips under the yellow tape quick before Roy can catch her.

  “Cherry!” Cerise knows her husband’s trying to protect her from seeing things that hurt, but she’s strong again. She’s a good helper, and she knows everybody on the block. Probably the only person besides Miss Philomenia.

  A policeman stops her. “Sorry, ma’am, you can’t be in here.” He’s Chinese or maybe Thai or something. When did New Orleans get Asian folks to lose their minds and start working for the city in a uniform?

  “It’s my street,” she says. “I live here.”

  “Where?” the man asks and raises his hand, snapping at other policemen and indicating something. There’s a couple of lady officers too.

  “Is that Joe?” Cerise can’t help but sort of strain against the policeman’s arm. She has to know who all is hurt.

  “Ma’am, the paramedics need to get to the hospital.”

  Roy steps up. He’s still carrying her easel and now Cerise’s box of paints too. “That’s Joe,” he says. “Joe Beauregard—what’s the rest?” he asks Cerise.

  “Beauregard de Bruges,” Cerise says.

  The cop snaps his fingers again, this time louder. “Hey, Martin. Now.”

  “What happen?” Roy asks.

  The policeman just keeps snapping.

  “What happen?” Roy asks again.

  The cop can’t seem to get the person he wants. “Which one is your house, ma’am?”

  “Our house,” Roy tells the man. “That one.” He points.

  Cerise keeps lookin’ around for clues. She never imagined so much blood but at a butcher’s. It’s horrible. The street smells like iron. There’s an ambulance with its backside facing away from them, and suddenly she thinks she sees Ed pacing by the edge of it. He’s covered head to toe in blood.

  “That’s your house?” The policeman points the exact same direction as Roy at their house.

  “That’s where I’m pointin’,” Roy says. “What happen?” he asks for the third time.

  “That house. That’s your house.”

  What is wrong with the man? “What the hell?” Cerise asks the fool.

  “Excuse me,” the cop says. “I need to bring over a detective to question you. Please stay here.”

  Cerise keeps looking and knows it’s Ed over there. Soon as the cop turns his back and starts walking to fetch a detective, she escapes, detouring around the mess in the middle of Orchid Street. It’s a mess for real, something she knows ain’t a happy ending.

  It’s him. It’s him. She starts jogging over best her legs carry her.

  The man’s face is completely streaked with tears and blood. He looks like he decided to swim in blood. How’s he still standing? He’s pacing, pacing, when he sees Cerise.

  The man howls, and then he bends over and starts bawling. He stands up again. He holds out his arms. Cerise goes into them straight away. It has to be bad.

  Ariel sees the lights of all the cop cars, an ambulance, and the yellow tape spanning the width of Orchid and makes a T-turn in the street.

  “The police are at our house!” Miles yells.

  “No, we don’t know that,” Ariel says. “They’re just near our house.” Her stomach pulls up into her ribs. It takes all she has not to drive down and fling open her car door, screaming after Ed. Has he committed suicide?

  “We can’t park there right now. Let’s go get some milkshakes.” She can call Sharon or Indira from Baskin-Robbins on Carrollton.

  Ella starts crying in her car seat. “Where’s Daddy? I want Daddy.”

  “Daddy’s okay, sweetie.” Ariel glances in the rearview. Ella’s twisted around, staring. Something horrible has happened.

  Ariel pulls into the parking lot across the street from the bar—what’s it called, Flanagan’s?—that was in the news during Mardi Gras. In her head, Ariel can still see the guy’s arrest photo. A big lunk of a bearded bartender overserved an underage girl, and she died in their bathroom. Ariel used to feel comforted by the fact that the Belle was outside the college circuit. Now she could care less. Now she needs to know what’s happened on her street. She has to distract the kids somehow first.

  Ariel turns off the engine, and Miles opens his door. He’s out and inside the ice cream parlor before Ariel can help extract Ella.

  Inside, Ariel hears Miles already talking to a blinged-out young guy. Her son says his father’s getting arrested. “Cops are all over,” he says. “I’m tellin’ ya.” Miles nods exaggeratedly and pushes his pants down on his hips.

  Ariel strides over to her son and picks him up by his armpits, pivots around, and carries his heavy boy self outside. She sets him down but holds on to his arms. “I don’t know who you feel you want to impress, but it’s not me. Do not scare your sister, Miles, and quit with the shit. Now.” Ariel is as serious as she’s ever been.

  Ella follows them out.

  “It’s true,” Miles says. “Dad’s going downtown.”

  Where the fuck has her firstborn child learned these expressions?

  “Why?” Ella whimpers, holding small fists at her stomach.

  For all Ariel knows, it’s true. The massive police presence has her scared to near meltdown. But Parenting 101 says the kids need to see her calm. “Your father would have called me,” she tells them. “I’m sure the police are there about a neighbor or that bar. An old man probably drank too much beer and fell down. Pull up your pants, Miles. Let’s get some ice cream.”

  Ella chooses bubblegum ice cream, a bad idea Ariel doesn’t have the wherewithal to stop. Miles pushes and wins a banana split with three scoops. He knows something’s up, no question. Ariel’s not helping by acquiescing so easily. They sit in an orange formica booth while Miles eats cautiously, head down, staring out past his eyebrows through the plate-glass window.

  “I’m going outside, guys, okay?” Ariel tells the kids.

  Ella digs out a bright, drippy pink gumball from her ice cream with her fingers. She nods.

  “I can see you through the window,” Ariel says.

  “Are you going to call Dad?”

  “No, but I am going to use my phone. It’s rude to talk on them in public.”

  “Whatever.” Miles jams his plastic spoon into a banana slice, but Ariel can see he’s upset. He wants to know too. She’s impressed by the front he’s learned to put up so well.

  A bell rings on the door as she leaves. Outside, Ariel finds Sharon Harris’ name in her contact list and punches it. The phone rings and rings. Ariel’s directed to Sharon’s voice mail. “Sharon, it’s Ariel. I have the kids and saw the police on the block. I didn’t know if I should bring them home. Can you call me? Do you know what’s going on?” Ariel hangs up.

  She can try Indira.

  On the fourth ring, Indira answers. “Hello,” she says.

  “It’s Ariel.”

  “Hello,” Indira says with little change in her voice.

  “Ah, hi. Are you home? Do you have any idea what’s going on?”

  “I’m in my office.”

  Of course she is. “Have you heard anything?”

  “Sorry. What?”

  Indira obviously knows nothing. “Something’s happened on our block. I don’t mean to alarm you.” Ariel looks through the glass at her beautiful children. Her insides come apart. “There’re cops everywhere, and an ambulance. We should probably get home. I tried Sharon, but she’s not answering. It looks horrible, Indira.”

  “What has happened?”

  “I’m up at the Baskin-Robbins. I had the kids with me.”

  “But what has happened?”

  “I—” Ariel looks again at Ella and Miles. “I have no idea, but our
street’s crawling with cop cars. There’s an ambulance. There’s yellow tape. I just don’t know.” Ariel realizes she wants sympathy from Indira. Ariel also understands she’s not going to get it. “Listen. I think I’m going to go over there. Do you want me to call you back?”

  “I’m nearly done. I’ll do the same.”

  “Who knows. Probably something with Tokyo Rose, let’s hope.” Miles is taking Ella’s gumballs. Ella’s hitting Miles with her spoon. “I have to go. I’ll see you.”

  “Good bye.”

  Ariel hangs up. She needs to get home. Right now. Kids can deal with trauma pretty well, she’s read. Sometimes better than adults. Ariel has to know. She sticks her head in the door. “Let’s go. Come on. You can take your ice cream with you.”

  “Cool,” Miles says.

  Cerise sees Ariel trying to drive up to her house with their kids in the back of the car. Uh oh. Cerise knew some other people from Orchid were gonna need a lot of help. Ariel’s likely one of ’em.

  The lady can’t get at her driveway and house. Cerise walks to the edge of the yellow tape. They’re allowing her old careful person to stay on the inside now, but she has to step around the evidence markers and all the blood. Cerise’s wiped herself up some. She hopes they can wash off the street sooner than later. They all can’t be made to look at it for days more. Maybe Philomenia’s estate will pay for Daniel’s funeral. Who knows. Cerise wishes she could find where Sharon and Nate are. Likely the morgue, but she’s not sure. They’re most definitely gonna need some support.

  Cerise has her own police person now, a young lady, who’s in charge of making sure Cerise fills in neighbors coming home from work or school or wherever. More it’s that Cerise can tell the police what people can come past the yellow tape and go home and which ones just want a beer at Tokyo Rose or to take a look around.

  It’s all so sad Cerise can hardly think on it. Now, though, Miss Ariel needs to know where her husband is and that he’s not hurt. Not hurt physically. The poor lady comes up shaking, holding her two children’s hands. They have ice cream, but both are spilling it out their cups looking at the street and all the police people.