Fiery Rivers

by Daefyd Williams

  “That’s right. And how many times a day do you have intercourse with your wife?”

  “Intercourse?”

  “Sexual relations.”

  “Oh. Mmmm. Prob’ly ten or fifteen.”

  “Don’t you think that is an inordinate amount? Don’t you think that is a lot?”

  “No, I don’t. But Myrtle does. That’s why I’m here.”

  “And what is your preferred method of intercourse, of making love to your wife?”

  “I like it all. Her mouth, her pussy, her butt.”

  “I see. Well, Mr. Mayall, we use something called electroconvulsive therapy to treat patients with severe depression and mania. Our tests indicate that you present with no physical abnormality that would account for your urges, so I believe that you qualify for electroconvulsive treatment under the mania, specifically sexual mania category, otherwise known to us as satyriasis. Are you willing to allow us to treat you to try to inhibit your sexual urges?”

  “What?”

  “Will you give us permission to treat you to reduce your sexual urges so that you will not want to make love to your wife so often?”

  Harald sighed. “Yeah, I guess. That’s why I’m here. Myrtle said she’s gonna leave me if I don’t stop fuckin’ ‘er all the time.”

  “Alright, then. Fill out this form and sign and date the bottom, and I’ll go see if everything is in order in the ECT room.” He handed Harald a clipboard with the permission slip on it. “I’ll be right back.” He left the room.

  Harald completed the form and placed the clipboard on the desk. He sat back down and returned to studying the floor. An Asian nurse in a white uniform came into the room. “Have you signed the consent form, Mr. Mayall?” she asked.

  “Yeah, I put it on the desk.”

  She picked up the clipboard and looked at it. “Fine. Will you follow me, please?”

  “Sure.” He followed her down a long, fluorescent-lit white corridor, admiring the sway of her buttocks as she walked. “Boy, I’d like to have me a piece o’ that,” he thought.

  She opened the door of a small bathroom, stepped inside, and removed a blue hospital gown from a drawer near the sink. “Please empty your bladder first and then put this on with the opening on the back. You may leave your underwear on. Remove everything else. I’ll be back shortly.” She closed the door.

  He peed and then put the gown on, but could not figure out how to tie the strings in the back. “How are you s’pose to tie this thing? They want me to walk down the hall with my ass showin’?” He was trying to tie the strings when there was a knock on the door. “Come in,” he said.

  The nurse opened the door and asked, “Are we ready, Mr. Mayall?”

  “Yeah, ‘cept I can’t tie the strings in the back.”

  “It’s not important. Follow me, please.”

  He followed her down the hall to another room where Dr. Federer and another nurse were waiting for him. Dr. Federer smiled at him. “Are you ready for your treatment, Mr. Mayall?” he asked.

  “Yeah, I reckon. Ready as I’ll ever be.”

  “Fine. Lie down on the gurney, please.”

  He lay down on the gurney and the two nurses began cinching leather restraints around his wrists and ankles.

  “What are them things for?” he asked.

  “Just a precaution,” the doctor advised. “They’re so you don’t injure yourself during the procedure.”

  “Injure myself? What’re you gonna do to me?” Harald whined.

  “With ECT,” Dr. Federer intoned, “we administer a mild electric shock for several seconds, during which you will feel uncomfortable, but after which you will essentially have no recollection of the event.”

  “You sure it ain’t gonna hurt?” Harald asked doubtfully.

  “Absolutely,” the doctor reassured him.

  The Asian nurse asked him to clamp down on a rubber device, like a small hockey puck, with his mouth. Dr. Federer assured him that this would prevent him from biting his tongue during the procedure. The other nurse applied something cold and wet to his temples with an item that looked like a large Q-tip. Then she put cold metal electrodes atop the wet areas and cinched them tightly to his head so that they would not move during the procedure. “Are you ready?” Dr. Federer asked. Harald shook his head yes. The doctor pushed the green button on the ECT machine.

  A white-hot bolt of electricity surged instantly into his core and radiated out into his arms and legs. It seemed to him as though the electricity were shooting out the top of his head like a sparkler and burning the pillow on which he lay. He arched his back, convulsing and grimacing. After five seconds, the current stopped, but he still convulsed and twitched on the gurney. When he stopped convulsing, a nurse removed the mouthpiece, and he breathed rapidly through his mouth. He was sweating profusely.

  “How are you feeling, Mr. Mayall?” Dr. Federer asked him, peering at Harald’s face over his glasses.

  “Kay,” he mumbled weakly. He felt drained of all energy and lay limply on the gurney like a wet wash cloth.

  “OK, we’re going to take you to your room now.”

  “Kay,” he whispered, barely able to talk.

  For the month that he was in the Dayton State Hospital, Harald endured three harrowing ECT treatments per week. When he was released at the end of the month, Myrtle discovered that his urges had been reduced to once or twice a day, a great improvement over the ten to fifteen times a day which she had previously suffered.

  Harald was Marie’s half-brother who never associated with the rest of the family. He felt that he was the black sheep because he was the only one who had had a different mother than the others, so he and his family kept to themselves.

  Marie finished leading the congregation in singing “I’ll Fly Away” and sat down on a metal chair on the left side of the dais. Adam stood up and took his place behind the pulpit. “Thank you, Sister Hensley, for leadin’ us in that wonderful song. Yes, brothers an’ sisters, when God calls us home on our final day, we’re gonna fly away to heaven to be with our sweet Lord for eternity if we’re saved an’ warshed in the blood o’ the Lamb. I’m pleased to tell ya that tonight Brother Peatry is startin’ our first night o’ revival. He’s gonna spend a week with us gatherin’ sheep into the fold to be with us in heaven, an’ teachin’ us how to keep on the straight an’ nahr’ path which leads to heaven. Brother Peatry, come on up now.”

  Brother Peatry, who had been sitting behind Adam, approached the pulpit and looked out over the congregation. He was wearing a white suit, a white shirt, and a black bolo tie with a turquoise slide. He glanced at Devon sitting beside the heater holding Jackie in his arms. Adam and Marie had made him come because this was the first night of the revival and they knew that he had backslid and wanted him to hear Brother Peatry. Del was working at Westward Ho! cafeteria.

  “Brothers an’ sisters, God is leadin’ me tonight to talk about backslidin’. What is backslidin’, you ask? It’s turnin’ your back on Jesus once he has forgiven you o’ your sins and goin’ back to sinnin’ an’ doin’ the thangs o’ the world, just like you never been saved. If you’ll open your Bibles to Hebrews, chapter ten, verses twenty-six through thirty-one, you can read along with me.” While he waited for the congregation to find the verses, he stared at Devon. Devon shifted uncomfortably on the metal chair and looked away. Brother Peatry peered down at the Bible and read:

  For if we sin willfully after that we have received the

  knowledge of the truth, there remaineth no more

  sacrifice for sins, But a certain fearful lookin’ for of

  judgment an’ fiery indignation, which shall devour the

  adversaries. He that despised Moses’s law died without

  mercy under two or three witnesses; Of how much

  sorer punishment, suppose ye, shall he be thought

  worthy, who hath trodden under foot the Son of God,

  and hath counted the blood of the covenant, wherewith

&nbs
p; he was sanctified, an unholy thing, and hath done

  despite unto the Spirit of grace?

  “In other words, brothers an’ sisters, once you been saved an’ then you turn your back on Jesus an’ go back to sinnin’, what more can God do for you? He gave you his only son, that he allowed to be crucified on the cross for your sins, an’ you’re turnin’ your back on that sacrifice. What more can he do? Nothin’. Absolutely nothin’! All you gotta look forward to is ‘his judgment an’ fiery indignation, which shall devour the adversaries’. He got no choice but to send you directly to hell, ‘cause you spurned his ultimate sacrifice of givin’ you his son to die for your sins. You treated that sacrifice like it was the wrapper on a Hershey bar, somethin’ that you throw in the garbage can an’ forget. The sacrifice o’ the blood o’ Jesus for your sins you’re throwin’ away like it was nothin’! But this time, ‘cause you rejected God an’ his sweet son, our Savior, he ain’t a just gonna send you to HELL! No, not this time. ‘Cause we read in the next two verses,”

  For we know him that hath said, Vengeance belongeth

  unto me, I will recompense, saith the Lord. And again,

  The Lord shall judge his people. It is a fearful thang to

  fall into the hands o’ the livin’ God.

  “Do ya hear that, brothers an’ sisters? ‘Vengeance belongeth unto me, I will recompense, saith the Lord.’ In other words, I will pay you back for losin’ your faith an’ not believin’ in me. But what, you ask, could be worse’n goin’ to hell an’ burnin’ forever in the lake o’ fahr in eternal darkness? God don’t tell us. No, he just says, ‘It is a fearful thang to fall into the hands o’ the livin’ God. IT IS A FEARFUL THANG TO FALL INTO THE HANDS O’ THE LIVIN’ GOD!!’” Brother Peatry shouted. “God don’t tell us what that fearful thang he has in store for the sinners who are backsliders is, but whatever it is, it’s worse’n goin’ to hell an’ burnin’ in the lake o’ fahr forever. So if you’re a backslider, I plead with ya to come back to Jesus tonight, an’ ask him to forgive your sins again. You don’t wanta know what could be worse’n hell. Come down an’ pray right now!” He looked directly at Devon.

  The icy fist of fear had plunged into Devon’s stomach as soon as he heard the words: “It is a fearful thang to fall into the hands o’ the livin’ God.” He squirmed in his seat, blushed, and looked down at the hardwood floor. I do believe in the Holy Ghost. I do believe in the Holy Ghost. I do believe in the Holy Ghost. Wrist flick. Abdomen clench. Ow.

  A man and a woman stood up, walked to the front, and knelt at the altar to get saved again. Devon did not join them. He was too fond of The Beatles and liked watching television too much to give them up and walk the straight and narrow path into heaven. There would be plenty of time to ask Jesus for forgiveness before he died.

  Right before the service ended, Marie stood up and began speaking in tongues, “Suh lay nok shuh nie. Sah doe nah. Tee tahm lo lee. Kwon noe dae tee sah noe. Zee non toh lahn feen. Sahk lahn no nie. Tahn doe nee.”

  The congregation fell silent and waited for the gift of translation to descend upon someone. After several minutes, Dwayne stood up and gave the translation: “Verily, I saith unto you that my son, Adam, will build a great church which will have a congregation o’ five hundred souls an’ bring many more souls into my fold. He shall also broadcast my word on two radio stations so that thousands of others may come to salvation. This I saith unto thee.”

  “Hallelujah! Amen! Thank you, Jesus! Yes, Lord!” erupted from the congregation upon hearing this wonderful news directly from the mouth of God. It was an auspicious beginning to a week of revival in which many souls now were confirmed to be coming to the church and getting saved. Everyone went home lighthearted, happy, and hopeful. Except Devon. He went home with a heaviness on his heart and a torment in his soul.

  He slowly climbed the stairs to his and Del’s bedroom and found the door closed. That meant Del was asleep after a long day of work and seeing Linda. He eased the door open and retrieved his pajamas from beneath his pillow and took them into the bathroom to change. He left his clothes in the bathroom, quietly closed the bedroom door, and lay down on his bed. He remembered Brother Peatry’s voice threatening, shouting, “It is a fearful thang to fall into the hands o’ the livin’ God.” He wondered what dark horror God had in store for him that was worse than hell. He had blasphemed the Holy Ghost, and now he was a backslider. The icy fist of fear had made a permanent abode in his stomach. The fist opened, and now its icy fingers extended up into his torso and head, out into his arms and fingers, and down into his legs, feet, and toes. There was no hope for him now. “It is a fearful thang to fall into the hands o’ the livin’ God.” I do believe in the Holy Ghost. I do believe in the Holy Ghost. I do believe in the Holy Ghost. Wrist flick. Abdomen clench. Ow. “It is a fearful thang to fall into the hands o’ the livin’ God.” I do believe in the Holy Ghost. I do believe in the Holy . . . He drifted off into a fitful sleep.

  He awoke with a start. Something was wrong. He looked at the television set atop the dresser and the wall behind it. Strange orange shapes were cavorting and galloping across the television and on the wall. They were evil faces with insidious smiles come to summon him to hell. He sat up and placed his feet on the floor. He realized the shapes on the wall were a reflection of something from outside. He stood up and peered out through the venetian blind, which Del had left open when he went to bed. The river was on fire. He could see the red and orange flames flicking skyward above the roofs of the houses. He stood up, opened the bedroom door, and walked stiffly down the stairs like a somnambulist, internally frozen by fear. He opened the front door, walked down the steps, and shuffled across the field beside the house, unaware of the cool, wet grass brushing against his feet.

  When he had crossed the field, he turned right onto Neva Drive and continued down the middle of the road. He walked stiffly with his eyes fixed straight ahead. When he got to the four lanes of North Dixie Drive, he turned left towards the Great Miami River and shuffled down the sidewalk toward the bridge. He did not notice the emptiness of the street at three o’clock in the morning.

  He walked out to the middle of the bridge over the burning river. He grasped the hot outer edge of the concrete parapet with both hands and put one foot atop it. Then he brought the other foot up. He stood straight up, raised his arms away from his sides and held them out, like Jesus crucified on the cross.

  The orange and red flames twisted, leaped, heaved, and roared in front of him, twenty feet high. Acrid black smoke, like a million car tires burning, rose into the night sky, darkening it so no stars were visible. “It is a fearful thang to fall into the hands o’ the livin’ God.” I do believe in the Holy Ghost. I do believe in the Holy Ghost. I do believe in the Holy Ghost. “It is a fearful thang to fall into the hands o’ the livin’ God.” Wrist flick. Abdomen clench. Suddenly, he heard the wailing of the demons approaching, closer and closer, rushing to rip his head, arms, and legs from his body. “It is a fearful thang to fall—.” He fell headfirst toward the river of fire.

  Instantly, he felt an excruciating pain in his back, as though two giant hooks from the sky had jerked his shoulder blades out of his body. Two magnificent white feathered wings, wet and flecked with blood, had burst forth from his scapulas. “AAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!” he screamed, rocketing himself into complete awareness. As he fell, he instinctively drew his legs up and flapped his arms and was startled to feel his body begin to rise. He flapped his arms harder and the wings flapped in tandem, lifting his heels slightly above the leaping flames. He tilted this way and that, flapping furiously, keeping himself just out of reach of the ravenous inferno. He was incredibly hot and sweating profusely. An enormous black maw, like the one he had seen when he first blasphemed the Holy Ghost, yawned open below him amidst the flames, its blackness darker than any earthly black. One glimpse of the evil, dark portal to perdition compelled him to thrust his arms and his wings strongly downward, and he moved upward and eastward above
the flames, away from the maw. “I . . . AM . . . NOT . . . GOIN’ . . . TO . . . HELL!!!” he thought defiantly. He continued to beat his wings strongly and surely, but he was still above the burning river. He needed to get to the riverbank. He slightly shifted his legs to the right and felt his body inch left. “That’s it!” he thought. “Use your legs like a tail!” He thrust his legs far to the right. He slowly began to move left toward the riverbank. He was exhausted and barely able to flap his arms and wings as he got closer to the bank and out of reach of the flames. When he saw the darkness of the ground below him, he fluttered down clumsily and finally fell with a thud to the earth.

  He crawled on his hands and knees away from the flames and flopped down headfirst into the grass, battered and covered with soot, but alive. The fire trucks moved slowly down the embankment from Embury Park Road, their red lights flashing. They came to a stop beneath the bridge. The sirens ceased. The firemen got out of their trucks and stood looking at the flames. There was nothing they could do but watch the river burn. They did not notice the dark form on the bank behind them, cocooned within a pair of blackened wings, sleeping.

  Epilogue

  They worked side by side in total darkness, ripping the cold flesh from the walls of the tunnel and carrying it in their mouths up to the surface, acknowledging their descending sisters as they ascended. There was no overseer or overlord or representative of God on earth who directed them. They obeyed only the innate, primal directive with which they were born—to search for and find food and, surmounting all obstacles, return it to the colony. Nothing else mattered. They were capable of no other thought. There was no reflection that their lot in life was too arduous or too heavy a burden to bear, no anxiety arising out of the dictates of a religion, and not one lascivious or repetitive thought to torment them. They were in perfect harmony with their environment and with each other. They were at peace in body and mind.