SCATTERED IN ALL DIRECTIONS
STERLING WOULD NEVER forget the morning Seese had not returned from town, and Ferro had learned his friend was dead. Lecha had rolled herself out to the kitchen in the wheelchair to get her medication. She had asked Sterling if he knew where Seese might have gone, then she had gone back to her bedroom. Sterling had been bundling up the garbage in the kitchen while Zeta sat at the table with Ferro and Paulie watching the morning news on TV. Ferro had been drinking from his cup of coffee when suddenly he had let the cup drop from his hands. Coffee had splashed the wall, and broken pieces of the cup scattered across the tile floor. Zeta and Paulie had both looked at Ferro, but Sterling saw Ferro’s eyes were fixed on the TV screen, and the close-up photograph of a handsome young man with blue eyes and blond hair. The video report that had followed showed the interior of a dingy bar and two corpses in body bags leaving the bar one after the other. Ferro had bellowed like a wounded animal—“No! No!” Sterling heard Lecha’s telephone ring, and then Lecha had called his name. “Sterling! Sterling! Quick!”
Sterling had wanted to alert Lecha to the developments in the kitchen, that someone Ferro knew had been killed, but Lecha had been in a hurry. She gave Sterling the keys to the old Lincoln and slipped a pistol from under a pillow into her purse. Then she got out of bed in her red silk robe and stepped into the wheelchair. She had seemed healthy enough to walk, and she wasn’t crippled. She rolled herself around in a wheelchair; for sympathy and to fool the cops, she said, but still, Sterling had felt something was odd.
In the kitchen Paulie was on his hands and knees wiping up the spilled coffee; Sterling saw the paper towel had spots of blood where Paulie had cut himself on shards of the broken cup. Zeta had her arms around Ferro, who stood rigidly, resisting her comfort, shivering as if he were about to explode. Sterling saw wet streaks down Ferro’s pale, fat cheeks. Lecha had looked at Ferro and Zeta, and at Paulie; Lecha had seen Ferro was upset, but Sterling knew her mind was on the phone call, and they had to hurry. Lecha had not told him, but Sterling thought he knew: it was Seese who had just called. Lecha didn’t want Zeta to find out Seese was in trouble. Zeta had focused all her attention on Ferro as she tried to console him, and she did not look up even when Lecha and Sterling came into the room. Paulie had kept his head down, but Sterling saw the tears in his eyes.
Zeta could not stop the stampeding horses that had scattered in all directions—that had been her nightmare after the police shootings. Now Ferro had gone off with Paulie. Paulie wanted to park a junker car loaded with dynamite next to the Prince Road police substation. Zeta had seen the expression in Paulie’s eyes; Paulie wanted more than anything to prove his love to Ferro now that the rival was dead. Paulie’s devotion had only made Ferro’s grief more fierce and Zeta was afraid Ferro might want to follow his boyfriend to the grave. Zeta’s grief had surprised her, and she felt a terrible pain in her chest as if her grief had crowded her heart against her ribs.
She and Calabazas had been fools. Their lives were nearly over and what had they done? What good had all their talk of war against the United States government done? What good had all their lawbreaking done? The United States government intended to keep all the stolen land. What had happened to the earth? The Destroyers were killing the earth. What had happened to their sons? She loved Ferro; she didn’t want him to die.
The time had arrived more quickly than any of the people had ever dreamed, and yet, all the forces had begun to converge. Lecha had learned a strange story from the gardener, Sterling.
A giant stone serpent had appeared overnight near a well-traveled road in New Mexico. According to the gardener, religious people from many places had brought offerings to the giant snake, but none had understood the meaning of the snake’s reappearance; no one had got the message. But when Lecha had told Zeta, they had both got tears in their eyes because old Yoeme had warned them about the cruel years that were to come once the great serpent had returned. Zeta was grateful for the years she had had to prepare a little. Now she had to begin the important work.
Packing a great sidearm put a rare glow in Zeta’s eyes. She had walked the dingy street along the railroad tracks and felt light on her feet because the .44 magnum was in her purse. Greenlee had phoned to say he was ready to do business. Zeta told Greenlee she’d sell him the .44 Blackhawk he wanted. Her hands weren’t as steady anymore, and she wanted to buy a pistol that was less demanding.
Greenlee had never realized how much Zeta hated him. The more tense and stony faced she had been, the more animated and friendly Greenlee had become. Zeta had allowed the misunderstanding to continue for years because he had sold her guns without any questions. But now, messages from the South had indicated Greenlee was a key man.
Greenlee had waved off the six security men pointing Uzis when he saw it was only Zeta with the .44 Blackhawk in its holster. She was one of their “best customers,” Greenlee had exclaimed as he pretended to scold the security guards for not recognizing Zeta. Zeta had always let Greenlee think she was swallowing the flattery with the lies. Today she smiled and winked at him. She wanted to be left alone with him in the huge basement vault; she wanted plenty of time, no hurry. She let Greenlee show her special laser scopes to fit handguns and examined an automatic rifle he had taken from the rack on the wall.
He had a hilarious new Indian joke for her too, Greenlee said as he answered the red phone next to the computer terminal. Zeta could barely stomach Greenlee’s jokes; she knew the jokes were his way, his little test, for dealing with Mexicans or Indians and blacks. His theory had been that anybody who got huffy or hot while he told his nigger and beaner jokes would eventually try to cut his throat. “Cheaters win, and winners cheat,” Greenlee liked to say. So he got them first. Greenlee thought his jokes and “tests” were foolproof.
Today Greenlee seemed enormously pleased with himself; Zeta knew business was good; Awa Gee had just intercepted computer data that revealed big transactions between Greenlee and Mr. B. Greenlee’s small, pale-blue eyes were bloodshot. He had always watched Zeta’s eyes as he told the jokes, and she had never flinched. Greenlee really liked this one, he said, “because it’s about that TV broad—you know, what’s her name? Bah-bah Wah-wah! So anyway the bitch is talking—interviewing this Indian chief.”
Zeta smiled; she still had to marvel at the hatred white men harbored for all women, even their own.
“Oh, by the way,” Greenlee added, “the joke’s title is ‘Never Trust an Indian.’ ”
Zeta had burst out laughing.
“I knew you’d really like that!” Greenlee said.
Zeta was still chuckling and had nodded her head. Zeta really was going to enjoy this one.
“So Bah-bah Wah-wah asks the chief why he has so many feathers, and he tells her, ‘Me fuck them all—big, small, fat, tall—me fuck them all!’ ” Greenlee tried to imitate a falsetto scream. “ ‘Oh, you ought to be hung!’ ” he lisped, then Greenlee had bellowed, “ ‘You damn right me hung! Big like a buffalo, long like a snake!’ ”
Zeta had laughed out loud because everything essential to the world the white man saw was there in one dirty joke; she had laughed again because Freud had accused women of penis envy.
Greenlee had mistaken her laughter as a compliment and preened the hair at the edge of his shirt collar. “So Barbara Walters cries out, ‘You don’t have to be so hostile!’ The chief says, ‘Hoss style, dog style, wolf style, any style, me fuck them all!’ ” Here Greenlee had doubled over with laughter until his pale eyes watered.
Zeta smiled and had nodded to encourage Greenlee to laugh harder.
“So she cries out, ‘Oh, dear!’ The chief says, ‘No deer—me fuck no deer. Asshole too high! Fuckers run too fast! No fuck deer!’ ” Greenlee had not laughed so hard before. Zeta could feel a chill at the base of her spine. Greenlee was almost hysterical, and Zeta could not resist laughing at the bright pink color of his face. How perfect his face was for this one moment! Ah, his laughter! How i
t echoed up and down air-conditioned aisles of the basement vault. “No fuck deer!” Greenlee kept repeating the punch line over and over.
“Bombproof, bulletproof, fireproof, but not foolproof!” Greenlee had loved to brag about his office in the basement vault. Because only a fool would dare attack this vault. Zeta had let the revolver rest comfortably on her lap after she had removed it from the holster. She had used both hands with the barrel at a perfect forty-five-degree angle the pistol butt braced against her stomach. “No, not foolproof,” Zeta said as Greenlee’s grin went flat on his face when he saw the pistol was cocked. “Soundproof though,” Zeta said as she squeezed the trigger. Soundproof but not foolproof because only a fool fired a .44 magnum without earplugs. Zeta took her time. Greenlee’s security unit would not return for hours unless Greenlee called them. The vault was off-limits. With her ears ringing, deaf as dirt, Zeta had gathered the disks and readouts Awa Gee needed to complete his work.
PART SIX
ONE WORLD, MANY TRIBES
BOOK ONE
PROPHECY
THE INTERNATIONAL HOLISTIC HEALERS CONVENTION
ANGELITA LOOKED AROUND the ballroom of the Tucson resort carefully. She was alert for familiar faces from the Freedom School in Mexico City. If the Israelis or Chinese had sent spies to the International Holistic Healers Convention that meant they were on to the plan. She saw none of the familiar faces, but that did not mean there were no spies. She had left Wacah and El Feo in the mountains with the people. Hundreds of people kept coming to listen to Wacah talk about the ancient prophecies and explain the future. German and Dutch tourists had witnessed Wacah’s sessions with the people, and soon a German television crew had trekked up the muddy paths with their equipment to record the odd new mystical movement among Indians in Mexico, who were growing their hair long and painting their faces again in imitation of the twin brothers, who served the macaw spirits, and who promised the people the ancient prophecies were about to be fulfilled.
The video cameras had recorded a slow but steady trickle of people, mostly Indian women and their children, trudging along muddy, steep paths and rutted, muddy roads. The people came from all directions, and many claimed they had been summoned in dreams. Wacah had proclaimed all human beings were welcome to live in harmony together. People from tribes farther south, peasants without land, mestizos, the homeless from the cities and even a busload of Europeans, had come to hear the spirit macaws speak through Wacah. The faithful waited quietly by their sleep shelters and belongings. After the German television report, the cash had started flowing in from “Indian lovers” in Belgium and Germany. They had received a large amount of cash from a Swiss collector of pre-Columbian pottery in Basel. A people’s army as big as theirs would not need weapons. Their sheer numbers were weapons enough. A people’s army needed food. Wacah said the people would eat as long as they were with him. All they had to do was walk north with him.
After the cable news report there had been trouble. Authorities heard rumors that the native religion and prophecies were a cover, and the true business of Wacah and his brother was to stir up the Indians, who were always grumbling about stolen land. The Mexican federal police had sent truckloads of armed agents to search the mountains for secret caves suspected to contain caches of weapons the Indians had allegedly received from the Cubans. But even the four-wheel-drive trucks the police drove could not cross the landslides which the mountains had shaken down in previous weeks. Straggling in to the villages on foot, the police had found nothing; all the able-bodied had followed the twins. Those too sick or weak to travel said the mountain spirits were shaking the earth and would not stop until the white man’s cities were destroyed.
The cable television news crew had still been at Wacah’s camp when the federal police arrived; the calm of the people and the frenzy of the police had been televised all over the world. But the police had soon realized they were greatly outnumbered and they had withdrawn. Wacah’s invitation to address the world convention of holistic healers had arrived within days of the federal police raid. But the spirit macaws would not permit Wacah or El Feo to leave. They had to walk with the people. Wacah and El Feo must not ride in automobiles or helicopters. The spirits required that the people walk. Wacah and El Feo had sent Angelita to the healers convention to make apologies for them, and to invite all those gathered to join them. All were welcome. It was only necessary to walk with the people and let go of all the greed and the selfishness in one’s heart. One must be able to let go of a great many comforts and all things European; but the reward would be peace and harmony with all living things. All they had to do was return to Mother Earth. No more blasting, digging, or burning.
Wacah’s message to the holistic healers assembly was to be prepared for the changes, welcome the arrival of the people, and send any money they could. All money went for food; the people were protected by the spirits and needed no weapons. The changes might require another hundred years, until the Europeans had been outnumbered and the people retook the land peacefully. All that might be okay for Wacah and El Feo, but Angelita had plans of her own. What Wacah and El Feo didn’t know, wouldn’t hurt them. Angelita was in charge of “advance planning.” From villagers in Sonora, Angelita had heard about certain people and families living in Tucson who might wish to help.
Wacah, El Feo, and the people with them believed the spirit voices; if the people kept walking, if the people carried no weapons, then the old prophecies would come to pass, and all the dispossessed and the homeless would have land; the tribes of the Americas would retake the continents from pole to pole. They did not fear U.S. soldiers or bullets when they reached the border to the north because they did not believe the U.S. government would bomb its own border just to stop unarmed religious pilgrims. But Angelita wasn’t so sure. The U.S. Treasury might be nearly empty, and the United States might be caught in civil unrest and strikes—but the white men would spend their last dime to stop the people from the South. The U.S. government might have no money for the starving, but there was always government money for weapons and death. The Mexican Treasury had been bankrupt for months, but still the federal police got paid. The U.S. was no different. The people themselves might be finished with wars, but their generals and business tycoons were not.
El Feo and Wacah had to obey the spirit macaws. What they might personally think did not matter. Wacah believed the spirits would protect them, but personally El Feo had agreed with Angelita La Escapía, his comrade-in-arms: the U.S. government might not wait for the twin brothers and the people to reach the border. The unarmed people would most likely be shot down before they even reached the border, but still they must have faith that even the federal police and the soldiers would be caught up by the spirits and swept along by the thousands. How long could the soldiers and police keep pulling the triggers? They might fall by the hundreds but still the people would keep walking; not running or screaming or fighting, but always walking. Their faith lay in the spirits of the earth and the mountains that casually destroyed entire cities. Their faith lay in the spirits outraged by the Europeans who had burned alive the sacred macaws and parrots of Tenochtitlán; for these crimes and all the killing and destruction, now the Europeans would suffocate in their burning cities without rain or water any longer.
El Feo told Angelita she must do what she felt was best. What was coming could not be stopped; the people might join or not; the tribal people of North America could come to the aid of the twins and their followers or they could choose not to help. It made no difference because what was coming was relentless and inevitable; it might require five or ten years of great violence and conflict. It might require a hundred years of spirit voices and simple population growth, but the result would be the same: tribal people would retake the Americas; tribal people would retake ancestral land all over the world. This was what earth’s spirits wanted: her indigenous children who loved her and did not harm her.
The followers of the spirit macaws believed they must
not shed blood or the destruction would continue to accompany them. But Wacah did say the pilgrims would be protected by natural forces set lose, forces raised by the spirits. Among these forces there would be human beings, warriors to defend the religious pilgrims. These warriors were already waiting far to the north. Wacah believed that one night the people would all dream the same dream, a dream sent by the spirits of the continent. The dream could not be sent until the people were ready to awaken with new hearts.
Angelita did not see how any spiritual change could take place overnight, especially not in the United States where the people of whatever color had become desperate in the collapse of the economy. Angelita did not believe in leaving the people or the twin brothers defenseless, even if the spirit macaw had said the end of the Europeans in the Americas was inevitable.
Angelita did not care if El Feo teased her or called her by her war name La Escapía, all the time. She wasn’t taking any chances. She had come to the healers convention in Tucson to make contacts with certain people, the people with the weapons she needed to protect the followers of the spirit macaws from air attacks. Those amazing shoulder-mounted missiles worked as simply as holiday skyrockets. Angelita had fired one herself and it hadn’t been much different from holding a Roman candle. The missiles were purely defensive measures, of course, against government helicopters and Wacah and El Feo need never know. Angelita heard from spirits too—only her spirits were furious and they told her to defend the people from attack.
The Almanac of the Dead: A Novel Page 84