Plantation of Chrome

by R. J. Coulson

  “So now I’m evil for being a good man?”

  “You’re trying to get benediction, Stone... absolution! You believe in God as much as I do, or else you wouldn’t be doing this for any of us. You'd just continue on blindly like Messenger or De Gracy.”

  Stone put on his fedora and stood up. He got to the door when Eckleburg said, “Your name is Noah Stone. You’re supposed to extort the human race from sin by being the last innocent man alive. It doesn’t work when you’re the sea as well. It doesn’t make a story.”

  Stone didn't move. He had grabbed the doorknob, intending to leave, but something made him stay.

  “The man you're talking about spent years collecting two of each animal, and not one minute asking any of his neighbors if they had a reason to come aboard the arc. God sees everything, but that’s just it; to see everything, you’ve got to stand way up high, and that… that diminishes a hell of a lot of little things. That’s the story, Thomas, the one you cherish so much, one of the many that reveals God’s true face. That’s the story,” repeated Stone, “and I’m not the Noah in it.”

  Noah Stone opened the front door and walked out. Eckleburg saw Stone’s shadow through a window, going through the front garden and past the white picket fence. Thunder roared from up among the clouds, and the soft sound of rain quickly followed.

  It was the middle of the night, and Eckleburg still wasn't sleeping. He was gazing out on the falling rain. He imagined the droplets like little bullets, hitting hard into the pavement and grass and traffic signs and roofs. He looked up, heard the rain through the roof, the sound of it as it kept bumping down. His mind was too dark for anything to be remembered, and he was unable to rummage through any of the memories that he felt he needed to process. He took his hand off the glass of scotch and looked at it. He looked at its lines, the way they swirled down his palm, and he imagined how the rain would fall down these empty hands, and then he wondered; he wondered just how empty these hands were, and how something so empty could act as a tool for God. He stood up and walked to the window through which he’d seen Stone earlier that night. He opened it and some of the rain and cold air sprayed inside. Then he walked to the bedroom, to see if he could open the door quietly enough that his wife wouldn’t wake up. He could, and it had been the easiest thing in the world.

  CHAPTER 5

  “Oh, come on now, Stone,” said Messenger. He walked back and forth between the book cases and the office desk where Stone and De Gracy were sitting. “We need the bucks, and you know it. Especially now. I mean, come on, the Pit’s becoming a joke.” His weak Irish accent went full-blown for a moment.

  “We talked about this,” said Stone.

  De Gracy leaned into the back of the chair, where Stone’s coat was hanging.

  “Ever since Kenny died,” continued Messenger, “this place has gone downhill. People came to see that kid, and they’ll come to see me, but not if I’m going to be fighting the same losers each and every time. You want me to fight the Crab again? Come on!”

  “Paul, we talked about this. We want to keep low.”

  “With the weapons! Jesus, like people care how high we keep the boxing? We could put us up against fucking penguins and people wouldn't fucking care, now would they?”

  “If we start putting you up against heavier opponents, people would start noticing. Many cops are into boxing. We don't need the extra eyes around here.”

  Messenger started walking more frantically, waving his arms, shaking his head.

  “I’m not saying to put me up against the damned Quarry or that other one… that other retarded, godforsaken bastard... just put me up against someone who could actually lift me.”

  “The Crab’s bigger than you are.”

  “The Crab’s worth shit, Stone,” said Messenger. “You’ve had Holden up against some of the heavier ones.”

  “Holden actually is in another weight class.”

  “Holden’s an asshole. You can let me fight him, then.”

  “We can’t have you fighting our own. People would think that we were cheating.”

  “Well, we almost are anyway, so who gives a flying damn?”

  “Roland,” said De Gracy.

  Messenger turned to him with a questioning grimace. “What?”

  “The retarded, godforsaken bastard you mentioned earlier… his name’s Roland.”

  “Oh my God, De Gracy, I don’t care!” Messenger disregarded De Gracy and turned back towards Stone. He looked him straight in the eyes, lowered his voice, and said, “Look, I ain’t doing this for any fancy medals or any crap like that, but I’d like, for once in my life, to meet someone that’d actually pose a challenge. I don’t care about the boxing, or… or the moral of any of it. Just give me the chance to--”

  The door to the office opened and Eckleburg stepped inside. Everyone looked at him.

  “Hey Dickie,” said Messenger. “A bit early today, aren’t you?”

  Stone looked at Messenger and waved him out of the room. Messenger's jaw opened wide. “You can't be fucking serious?”

  Stone nodded, and Messenger left. They heard him swearing out in the hall.

  Eckleburg didn’t seem to notice any of the things that were happening around him. Instead, he just sat down by his side of the desk and started pulling in papers from the drawers. De Gracy and Stone looked at each other.

  “Thomas, I told De Gracy about last night,” said Stone.

  Eckleburg looked up through his round glasses and nodded.

  “Carraway,” he said.

  “What?” asked Stone.

  “I’m looking at all the boxers’ sheets here, and it doesn’t make sense for us to keep Carraway. He’s losing much more than when he’s winning, and when he does win, we usually don’t have enough players to--”

  “Why’d you come back today?”

  Eckleburg looked up from his papers.

  “I assumed that I still worked here.”

  “You basically told me to go screw myself yesterday,” said Stone. “I’m supposed to look past that?”

  “No, but I am. I saw that I was wrong, and I don’t want to attract attention to it anymore. I’m sorry, Noah. I just want to do what I get paid for right now.”

  “That’s fine… fine,” said Stone. “Me and De Gracy are going out for lunch, so take care of the place, all right?” Stone stood up and made sure that he had eye contact through Eckleburg’s glasses. “All right?”

  “I’ll do it,” said Eckleburg, nodding, biting his lip. “I’ll do it.”

  Noah Stone was all alone at the graveyard. Not a single member of the congregation had yet come past the church gates, and the service should’ve been fifteen minute in by then. Stone wondered if it was even Sunday yet. He was just about to sit down on one of the benches, when a woman came running in through the gate, her face flushed, skirt flailing about. Stone recognized her, saw that she was wearing the same hat as last time, and in her hurry she didn’t even notice Stone at first, pulling frantically at the locked church door.

  “They haven’t started yet,” said Stone.

  The woman did a little shriek.

  “Oh, you startled me,” she said and laughed. “I don’t understand… I’ve been coming here the past many Sundays, and there’s always been service.”

  “I know. I don’t get it either.”

  Stone sat down, and she came to join him. He was surprised that she sat so close to him.

  “Maybe Father Sebastian’s gone sick or something. It’s already starting to be a very cold fall. Can’t imagine how cold the winter will be.”

  “I can’t either.”

  “You can’t what, exactly?”

  “Imagine how cold it’d be.”

  “Oh, no of course not.”

  “Do you come to church by yourself every time?”

  The woman bent her head and did a shy, almost sad, smile.

  “I didn’t use to, but back home, I used to go with my mother, but she passed away, and I moved
here, and since then I’ve been going alone. It’s nice, though,” she said, comforting herself. “It feels like I’ve got my mother here, you know?”

  “I’m sorry, I’m not sure I do.”

  “Oh, of course you do,” she said.

  Stone gave her his hand.

  “I’m Noah Stone,” he said.

  “Nice to meet you, Mr. Stone,” she said and shook his hand. “I’m Ju--”

  “Noah!” said a surprised voice. Stone looked up to see Eckleburg’s wife, Gretchen, coming through the church gates. Father Sebastian sneaked inside as well, hurrying down the gravel path to unlock the church doors.

  “Hello Gretchen,” he said, getting up. He noticed that she seemed nervous, like Stone had seen something he shouldn’t have.

  “You’re here early, aren’t you?” she said, forcing a trembling smile.

  “It’s already twenty past ten,” he said. “It’s you that’s late.”

  “No,” said Gretchen. “I’m pretty sure it’s just twenty past nine. We’re not starting in another forty minutes. You sure you’ve put your clock back?”

  “Oh, daylight saving time!” said the woman. “Of course!” She laughed.

  Stone looked at his watch.

  “You’re right,” he said. “I must’ve forgot.”

  The church doors were being opened behind them.

  “You best come on in,” said Gretchen. “We’ve still got some preparations to do.”

  An hour later the church was full. The woman had sat down next to Stone. Her hands were very slim and elegant, and her fingers moved across the pages of the book of hymns.

  “I didn’t get your name out there,” whispered Stone. He leaned in towards her.

  “Oh,” she said apologetically. “I’m Julia,” she said. She gave Stone her hand to renew their acquaintance, and Stone looked at the hand as he would an old friend. “Julia Sedgewick.”

  Stone nodded and leaned back. Julia Sedgewick, he thought. He could see Eckleburg and his wife, sitting on the second row with their son, and it looked like Gretchen was trying to explain something to Eckleburg, but he was crossing his arms in the way he usually did when he didn’t believe someone. Father Sebastian walked to the fountain of holy water and started reading some passages about forgiveness, but Stone wasn’t really paying attention. He looked at Julia Sedgewick’s hands, hoping the priest would soon call another hymn so that he could see her flip through the pages of the book. She had a constant smile about her, as if she was smiling to someone that wasn’t there.

  “It’s a very nice fedora,” said Julia and pointed at Stone’s hat. It was sitting on his lap.

  “It is,” he whispered. “I got it from a friend long ago. Well, that’s not true. We found it.”

  “It’s a Stetson, isn’t it?”

  “It is, yes.”

  “My father was a hatter,” said Julia. “He made this one too,” she said, pointing at her own hat.

  “It’s very beautiful,” he said. “I noticed the flowers the other week you were here.” He glanced at her eyes, but soon diverted his attention back towards the altar. Father Sebastian had moved without him noticing. Stone scouted down to the front rows of pews, but he couldn’t see Eckleburg anymore. He looked around the church, but he was nowhere to be seen. The priest moved back to the fountain of holy water and looked out on his congregation with a smile.

  “Was he mad?” whispered Stone.

  Julia Sedgewick looked at him questioningly.

  “I beg your pardon?” she asked.

  “Your father... was he mad?”

  Julia Sedgewick was quiet for a moment, but then she let out a chuckle that halted the preaching for a while. She put a hand to her mouth when she realized that everyone was looking at her, but she was still grinning through the shine of her eyes. Father Sebastian nodded and continued, and all but Stone turned once more to the big wooden cross. He was still looking at Julia Sedgewick.

  “He was wonderfully mad,” she said. “A wonderful man,” she said, looking at Stone, her eyes still glittering with laughter. “Such a wonderful man.”

  Grundy watched in horror as Eckleburg skittered like a rat through the main hall of the Pit, blood dripping on the old wooden boards. Eckleburg’s trousers were torn at the knee, blood pouring down with his every step, drenching the thin, white fabric.

  “Eckleburg!” said Grundy.

  Eckleburg turned around, his eyes dilated with horror.

  “Who... who are you?”

  “It's me, Grundy.”

  “You are not Grundy, don't lie to me!” screeched Eckleburg. “You are not Grundy!”

  Grundy put a hand to his face and realized what was wrong. “No, Eckleburg, you don't understand... I...”

  “No, you're a demon, I see that. You're a demon, a devil... which means I'm right. I have to get away from here, I have to...”

  “You have to what? What is it you have to do?” asked Grundy. “Why are you bleeding?”

  “Get back!” screamed Eckleburg, swiping at Grundy's face, scratching his skin. He then turned and ran to the exit. Grundy put out his hand, but there was nothing more he could do.

  CHAPTER 6

  Noah Stone was expecting Eckleburg when someone started bashing on his front door in the middle of the night. The darkness seemed almost impenetrable as Stone trudged through it. His spine tingled with a sense of restlessness as he grabbed the door handle. He opened the door, but instead of seeing the ghastly figure of Thomas J. Eckleburg, Stone instead faced with the soothing eyes of Grundy. Grundy's jaw was hanging down and he had a look of urgency and despair shining through his eyes. A bandage was slapped across his face, hiding most of his scarring.

  “Mr. Stone,” he said. “It’s Eckleburg. He’s not right.”

  “What do you mean? What happened to your face--”

  “Come down to the Pit, please, Mr. Stone. I don’t know what to do.”

  Stone put on his coat and hat and followed Grundy down the well of stairs that led them out into the cold street.

  There were specks of blood across the entire main hall. They were like a trail, drawing the trace of a madman.

  “You said he just came in here?”

  “I heard some rustling from inside my room, and when I came in here, I saw him right there, crouched, walking towards the door. Then I saw the blood.”

  “But why was he here?”

  “I heard him come in at about midnight, I think, but he went straight for the office.”

  “There’s a fight tomorrow, one of Messenger’s. Maybe he waited with the paperwork again.”

  “Maybe, but he was definitely in there.”

  “I’ll go look.”

  Stone walked into the office to see the entire ensemble of Eckleburg’s papers strewn across the surface of the desk. Stone looked through them. Some of the papers were about Messenger’s fight, but they were incomplete and with quick corrections scrawled all over. There were several pencils with broken tips spread out across the table. Stone went through more of the papers, and he found little notes scattered about that had been written with an obvious ferocity, scratched onto the paper like furrows or runes, black powder from broken pencils everywhere.

  “But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lustful intent has already committed adultery with her in his heart.”

  Stone looked through more of the papers and found even more notes.

  “If a man is found lying with the wife of another man, both of them shall die, the man who lay with the woman, and the woman.”

  “He who commits adultery lacks sense; he who does it destroys himself”

  Stone found one more when he heard Grundy running down the hall and towards the office, but the note was torn, and most of the sentence wasn’t even there. Grundy showed his big head through the door and looked at Stone very seriously, his lips tightened and his eyes aglaze.

  “I think he’s been in the weapon’s room.”

  “What?!” roared St
one and ran out the door.

  The hatch in the corner of the main hall had been forced open, and there was a thick puddle of blood around the opening. A lantern was still swinging deep down, throwing the shadow of the ladder against the opened wooden crates.

  “He must’ve cracked it open and pierced his leg on all this wood.”

  “Do you think he’s got a gun?” asked Grundy.

  “Look,” said Stone. “I need you to listen. There isn't much time. I think he’s gonna kill the priest, Father Sebastian. I think his wife’s been with him, and that Eckleburg’s found out. I gotta go do something.”

  “He’s already out, but he’s hurt bad, Stone. Maybe you can catch up!”

  “Father Sebastian lives right by the church. Look, Grundy, don’t do anything, but clear out all this blood. I’ll see what I can do.”

  Eckleburg was still bleeding as he dragged himself down the street. The rain fell on his wound and purified it. It also cleaned the blood off the street. His glasses were crushed, and they hanged pathetically down his no se and ears like a collapsed bridge across the expanse of a cliff. He was almost by the house, clutching the pistol on the inside of his coat. The rain had drenched him, and his open mouth was filling with water as he walked through the rain, babbling to himself. He was crying through his broken glasses, and no one in the sleeping world that surrounded him noticed his ghoulish approach. The darkness of the street was badly illuminated, and it made the houses on each side stand out like piles of dirt around him, moving closer, constricting him, as he passed down the street. He turned left, into a garden, walking all the way to the door of the house. He then turned the door handle, opening the door as quiet as possible.

  It was still raining when Stone ran past the church on his way to Father Sebastian's house. Stone reached the gate, ran through the garden, and started banging on the front door. He couldn’t hear anyone inside, but there was a light on in one of the rooms.