SelectionEvent (2ed)

  “I gave up my name. Since everybody died, I'm just a guy on the beach.”

  Diaz attempted comprehension of any lurking significance in that remark. “You... you trying to be one with nature or something?”

  “Already did that,” said the guy on the beach. “Now I just hang around. Be real.”

  Diaz pondered that. Be real. Be real? He felt like he was a nightmare crawling all over himself. That was all too real all right all over okay, oh boy. He socked himself in the chest. Maybe the pain would distract him from overdrive thinking.

  “Where you headed?” asked the guy on the beach.

  “Uh. South.”

  “All the way south? Key West?”

  “All the way.”

  “You all right?”

  Diaz's eyes had fixed on the low, rolling surf. “Bipolar. Cycle's on a downswing. I got maybe a day left. Then I'm screwed. Few weeks. Like death.”

  “Bummer.”

  Diaz crawled most of the way on his hands and knees, down the incline back to his bike and dug though his medical kit. He had three whites left, then he was going to hit the end of the trail — hard — like a bug on a windshield. Rectal thoughts. He held the whites in his fist and staggered back toward the guy on the beach, threw the pills in his mouth, along with some sand, and washed it all down with another Bud. “Wish I was you, man,” he mumbled. “You ever get lonely?”

  “Lonely? Nah. Ever since I unwrapped my mind, talking to you is just like talking to me. Never know what I'm going to say next. I could be anybody.”

  Diaz tried to think about that. There had to be significance, but it eluded him.

  “You have to go now,” said the guy on the beach.

  “Yeah. I have to go now.” There wasn't much time left. He struggled to his feet and waded through the sand back to his bike. Somehow, the guy on the beach was already there ahead of him and helped him right the motorcycle and push it back up to the asphalt parking lot.

  “I'd wish you good luck,” the guy said, “but it would be an empty gesture.”

  Diaz had been expecting him to grin and say Good luck! and he was glad he wouldn't have to hear it.

  Diaz swung his leg over the cycle and felt the whites start to kick in. “Which way is south?”

  “To get to Key West, go out to the end of the parking lot and turn left. When the road runs out, you're there.”

  “When the road runs out. Got it.”

  Diaz kicked the bike to life, gunned it once, and nodded at the guy on the beach. “Later!” he yelled, waved, and rode like the wind.

  He followed the white line from key to key, over the ocean on long bridges, till he got to the end of the road. Having done that, he realized he no longer had a plan. On the asphalt under his feet was an arrow. His rat brain kicked in and Diaz knew that to reach his destination, he should follow the arrows, every arrow he came to, on the streets or on signs, no matter what color or size, turning down this street, back this way, even following tiny arrows till one of them pointed to an old but well-kept two-story house, surrounded by an iron-picket fence and a yard full of banana trees, huge overhanging mimosas, and creeping vines. And cats. Cats everywhere, some of them with big puffy, multi-toed feet.

  When Diaz fell going up the stairs, a dozen of the cats sat around him and waited patiently for him to get up. Black cats, pregnant cats, speckled kittens, orange, moon-faced toms, all quietly sitting around him on the narrow stairs, licking their paws, icons of patience.

  Chapter 66

  Martin heard Isha's happy barking as she ran up the road to meet them and then he saw Catrin step into view. The way she carried herself, her arms limp at her side a long moment before she waved, he knew there would be bad news. Something was wrong. He nudged the horse with his heels and galloped up to meet her for a minute alone.

  As soon as he jumped off and got within arm's reach of her, ready to hold her to him, he stopped. “What is it?” —and he dreaded her answer. “Are the children all right?”

  Her eyes were dark-circled and tired.

  “No one's been hurt. But there are new people here. A group of them from up in the hills, and guess who's among them — Paul and Leona. Their leader calls himself Joshua. He's over at Winch's house. Martin, people have stopped talking to each other. I'm afraid we're going to have trouble.”

  “Are they armed?”

  “Not that we've seen.”

  “We'll take care of it.” If this was another Curtiz, he was thinking, he would make short work of the problem. “Come and meet who we found up north.”

  Catrin made a good show, smiling and shaking their hands, and when Martin introduced her to Ross, he said to the boy, “This is my wife,” and the boy hesitantly shook her hand and then hugged her around the waist.

  “We have another son,” Martin said. “He was alone until he found us.”

  “I'm so glad to meet you,” she said, holding his face. She ran her fingers through the boy's hair and held his head against her, but Martin could still see the worry in her eyes.

  “Take everyone to the big house up the street. They can stay there tonight and settle in tomorrow.” Martin took Winch aside and told him what Catrin had told him about Joshua. Winch pulled out his revolver enough to click off the safety and then reholstered it. “Winch and I are going to meet our other guests.”

  She nodded. “They've been real hard on Jan-Louise. They found out what she used to do.”

  “Let's go,” Winch said. Then, just before they got to his house, he said, “I want to apologize, Martin.”

  “What for?”

  "For in case I shoot this Joshua son of a bitch.”

  Inside Winch's house they could hear the man's voice, a smooth, earnest voice, speaking in a tone which might be used to teach a child how to tell time.

  “It's very easy,” he was saying when they stepped into the doorway behind him. He was a young man, twenty-five or thirty, clean-shaved, with short neatly barbered hair combed straight back. His shirt and slacks were as clean as the rest of him.

  Jan-Louise, on the other hand, looked worn and ragged and sat at the end of the sofa, her legs curled under her, her stricken face half-hidden behind her hands. “You simply surrender,” Joshua continued. “Consider how bad you feel now, right now, at this moment. Feel it. Isn't it awful? Feel it.”

  “She was feeling fine when we left,” Winch said. “It seems to me you're the one who's made her feel this way.”

  Joshua half-turned where he was sitting and was only momentarily surprised. He stood up and offered his hand to Winch, who stared stone-faced into his eyes. “I am Joshua of The Way of the Children of God. I'm so glad to meet you. Are you Winchell?”

  “What have you done to my wife?”

  “This woman was suffering terribly from the guilt of her past, from being the wife of two men, and from being separated from god.” Joshua spoke pleasantly, smoothly, and without the slightest fear. “I've been helping her work toward finding her way back.”

  “She....” Winch's words were choked off with rage. “She was never lost!”

  “I understand your concern,” Joshua said. “And I share it. It might not have shown when you last saw her, but she was filled to overflowing with self-detestation for her past sins of living as a whore.”

  Winch had his revolver out before Martin could react. “Wait,” Martin said.

  “I have no fear,” Joshua said smoothly, opening his arms and hands. “My life is not my own. I am only the smallest instrument of—”

  “You should leave now,” Martin repeated, his hand still on Winch's arm. He could feel Winch's muscles tighten and begin to lift the revolver.

  “Jan-Louise,” Joshua said, turning to her, “would you like for me to return tomorrow?”

  She shook her head and mumbled, “I don't know, I don't know anything anymore....”

  Winch's arm was coming up, even with the pressure Martin was putting on it. “I already apologized to you,” Winch said between his teeth.<
br />
  “You've been asked to leave,” Martin said, “and you haven't. You're not taking this very seriously, are you?”

  “I'll come by tomorrow,” Joshua said, still not moving toward the door. “This woman's soul is more important than mere politeness,” Joshua said with a warm smile, standing in place. “Her soul is more important than mine. Mine has been saved, and hers still rests with Satan.”

  “All right,” Martin said, taking his hand off Winch's arm. “Winch, if he isn't gone in thirty seconds, shoot him.”

  “If I die,” Joshua said, “this woman's soul will be lost, so I will now depart.” But still he showed no fear, no anger or sense of being threatened. “Perhaps later, we can talk more calmly.”

  “Not if you stand there another fifteen seconds,” Martin said.

  Joshua was now at the front door, opening it. He looked back and said, “Till tomorrow, Jan-Louise. Your soul is near saving.”

  When the door closed behind him, Winch lowered the revolver. His hand shook visibly. “You should've let me kill him,” Winch said under his breath as he went to Jan-Louise and cradled her in his arms. “It would keep things a lot simpler.”

  ....

  When Catrin returned from settling the new people, she went to Winch's house to meet Martin. He asked her where Xeng and the children were.

  “One of Joshua's people had a broken ankle and Xeng and Solomon went to take care of it. But Missa's here with Jan-Lousie. Isn't she? Jan-Louise?” Fear swept her face. “Isn't she here?”

  “Jan-Louise,” Winch said gently, still sitting with her, “did you see where Missa went?”

  “Oh my god...” Jan-Louise said, weeping, “I can't even take care of the children now....” She buried her face in his arms.

  Martin and Catrin went quickly went through the house, and found her nowhere. Martin went around back, Isha at their heels, calling Missa, but there was no answer, no crackling of twigs, no small voice from the surrounding forest.

  “Isha,” Martin said, not knowing if she would understand, “where is Missa? Missa.” He looked around helplessly. “Missa? Where is Missa?”

  Isha barked twice and galloped around the house with Martin and Catrin following. With definite purpose, she led them down the lane to the street, away from town several blocks, and then up a dirt road, stopping and nervously waiting for Martin and Catrin to catch up.

  “Does she know what we want?” Catrin asked through her panting.

  “This dog's a genius.”

  They followed her further, off the road now and into the trees a hundred yards, down a leaf-packed gully, up the far side, another hundred yards further on, and then Isha suddenly stopped and lowered her head.

  Through the trees Martin could see a clearing, and sitting around were fifteen or twenty people. With them were Xeng and Solomon, and one of their sheet-robed women held Missa in her lap. Paul and Leona were there, and Paul was speaking quietly to Xeng, but Xeng shook his head no repeatedly and waved his hands back and forth in front of his face. One of the people was offering Xeng a cup of something.

  “Joshua's people,” Catrin whispered.

  “Stay here with Isha.”

  Martin pushed his way through the thick undergrowth and stepped into the clearing. All eyes turned in his direction and Xeng stood up and quickly came over to him.

  “Very strange people,” he said softly. “They try to get us to drink blood.”

  Solomon bolted over to him shouting, “Daddy!” and grabbed him around the legs. Martin hoisted him up and kissed him and then put him down and went over and picked Missa up out of the woman's lap. She snuggled her face into his neck.

  “Xeng, did you bring Missa with you?”

  “No. I came here with Solomon to fix this lady's ankle. That man—” He pointed to one of Joshua's followers. “—brought Missa later.”

  Martin put the girl down and went over to the one Xeng had pointed out. He was taller than Martin, thinner, had shoulder-length hair and spiderweb tattoo that radiated from his elbow to the front of his arm.

  “Good afternoon, brother. My name is Aaron, and I was a sinner.”

  “Aaron,” Martin said, “you took my daughter from my house. If I see you near my children again, I'll kill you. Do you understand what I'm telling you?”

  “My life is not my own, brother,” Aaron said. “It belongs to the Lord, so I fear not your threats.”

  “I didn't ask if you were afraid. I asked if you understood. That's a yes or no question.”

  “Yes, brother, I understand your threat,” Aaron said evenly with a pleasant smile, “and I'll pray for your redemption.”

  Martin understood Winch's desire to simplify the situation. He backed away to where Xeng waited with the children, but before he turned his eyes from Joshua's people, he realized that they were all smiling, Paul and Leona also, her smile as vacuous as it was eerie, all of them as unmoved by Martin's threat as they were by Aaron's abducting Missa.

  Martin wondered how many more times he was going to surprise himself.

  Chapter 67

  In the evening, Martin, Winch, Catrin, Xeng, Jan-Louise, and Solomon, the members of the original group, sat in the living room of Martin's house. Missa and Land slept on the floor next to Mona, who was stretched out in the shape of a black crescent. A small fire burned in the fireplace, and on the coffee table, a candle in a glass chimney burned brightly. The room smelled faintly of woodsmoke, and Martin thought how peaceful and comforting it could have been — but it wasn't.

  The talk had been sporadic, but Jan-Louise, sitting with Winch's arm around her, had said nothing at all.

  “I can see how you didn't know what to do with them,” Martin said.

  “It's like they invaded us,” Catrin said. “Even coming in our homes when we didn't want them to. But they were so god damned pleasant about it I guess we didn't know how to say no. I never thought one of them would come and take Missa.”

  “What do these people want?” Xeng asked. “Us to join them?”

  “Joshua never mentioned that,” Catrin said.

  “He just said he wanted to help us,” Jan-Louise said.

  “He helped you to hate yourself,” Winch said.

  “I'm an awful person,” she said, on the verge of breaking down. “I don't know how any of you can have any respect for me after what I was.”

  “All our pasts began after the catastrophe,” Martin said. “We're not interested in what you were. What happened before belongs to the old times. The world was different then — I sure as hell was different then. We all were.”

  “You helped me deliver Land,” Catrin said quietly to her. “I can never thank you enough for that.”

  “But I was full of poison. I still am. I can't even keep my eye on Missa for half an hour.”

  “Because you were being harassed and badgered,” Winch said.

  Xeng was nodding. “That woman with the broken ankle, the ankle was not broken. More bullshit.”

  “It wasn't swollen or bruised,” Solomon added.

  “They wanted me there to say I am bad person also, to have me drink blood and eat uncooked meat with them. Very strange people. I have not seen many people do these crazy things,” he said meditatively.

  “Missa drank some,” Solomon said.

  “I did not know this,” Xeng snew peopleaid, his eyes widening and looking across at the girl.

  “We need to get 'em the hell away from us,” Winch said. “They're dangerous. We were all right till they came, and now everything's turned to shit. They kidnap Missa and make her drink something that could make her sick, they go after Jan-Louise and make her think—”

  “I'm a whore,” Jan-Louise said. “That's what I am.”

  Xeng said softly to her, “Do not say untrue things about the woman I love.” She pushed her face against his chest, weeping. He whispered to her.

  “I think we should drive them out,” Winch said.

  “We don't want them to start thinking about reveng
e or retaliation. We have homes, children. We have a lot to lose now.”

  Winch nodded, grimly. “We'd have to be looking over our shoulders all the time. Unless we killed them all. I'd vote for that.”

  “Could we play it by ear for a few days?” Martin said. “Find out who they are, if they'll go away, whatever we can. They probably outnumber us, you know.”

  Winch's face was tight. Martin had never seen him this angry and was afraid he wouldn't agree. A split in their group was not what they needed now.

  “I can wait,” he finally said, “but not for long. Martin, if it comes down to it, can I have Joshua?”

  Martin nodded.

  “He hurt what I love most, and he did it to make himself feel good.”

  After a silence, Catrin asked, “What about our new people? What do we tell them?”

  “That we were doing fine till Joshua and his fanatics came along,” Winch said.

  “I guess all we can do is tell them that we're worried and why.”

  They sat in silence in the dying light of the fireplace. Mona roused, stretched, looked around at the silent humans, padded over to where Isha had lain quietly through the evening and snuggled against her, asleep again in a minute. Martin envied them.

  ....

  The next morning, early, the sun not yet over the mountain tops, Martin and Winch went up the road to the big house where the new people were already stirring. Smoke drifted from the chimney. But when they got to the front step, they recognized Joshua's voice before they knocked on the door.

  “Why,” Joshua was asking quietly, persuasively, “why do you think you were allowed to live when all your friends, parents, and children died in horrible anguish? Do you not suppose there was a purpose to this? Can you guess what this purpose is?”

  Winch knocked loudly on the door frame and then stepped inside. Martin followed.

  “Pardon us for interrupting,” Winch said, “but we're going to interrupt.”

  Most of the newcomers were sitting around the livingroom listening attentively, several of them eating from plates they held on their knees. The house smelled of hot bread. Joshua smiled pleasantly.