Elias's Fence

by Steinberg, Anne

  "What's that strange sound?" Matt asked.

  "It's called a didgeridoo,” Luke explained. “Funny instrument made out of a eucalyptus branch that's been hollowed out by termites. Tommie showed me. He plays it to the horses sometimes. He claims it calms them. He loves those horses, and he’s teaching me to ride."

  The door opened and Anderson's angry frame filled the doorway.

  "That damn nigger's playing that awful instrument again. I thought you told him to go home. We didn't hire him - he's not in the contract."

  "Dad," Luke soothed, "he's been helping me learn about the horses. He's a pain in the ass, I agree, but I need him for a bit longer."

  "Then get rid of him," Anderson barked.

  "I will...soon," Luke promised.

  Anderson came over and absentmindedly kissed his sons on the cheek, but when he reached Rachael, he took her chin, held it firmly and kissed her on the mouth, his tongue roughly forcing hers to open. She bit it.

  He squealed and jumped back. “Oh, you want to play, little girl?”

  She drew back, and he saw the burning hate in her eyes. In the dimness he felt it was Christine standing there before him.

  “You look like your mother,” he said softly and all three children felt it sounded like a threat.

  Even now Rachael noticed the strange mannerisms that Anderson had of sniffing. She was aware that her idea of hiding those rotting pieces in various places in her father’s clothes was brilliant. When she told Rosa of her plan she thought it was great and she had carefully sewn the chicken innards into the shoulder pads of his suits and the other parts within the linings of his suitcase. This was a small justice, she could do to him, until she found a way to do more. The hate boiled within her, even though she couldn’t remember clearly exactly what that night of her mother’s crucifixion consisted of. Thankful in a way, that the haze of drugs made it unclear and dreamlike.

  Chapter 31

  Anderson was delayed in Adelaide for ten days and they enjoyed their freedom. Luke joined his brother and Tommie on a trip to Alice Springs and they came back with another mare.

  "Shit, Dad don't care. He don't want us bored, but strange thing is, I'm not, I love it here," Luke said. "Course I bought the horse so we can all ride. I'll teach Rachael when she's stronger."

  Rachael, after being fully warned about the dangers - snakes, etc. - took to walking over the reddish land and in just a few days lost her paleness and a golden hue spread over her face and bare limbs.

  The landscape fascinated her. There were lizards, wallabies, and ground birds and occasionally in the distance she heard the howl of a lone dingo. She lay among the wild flowers and studied the incredibly blue sky and one day, after a quick shower of gentle rain, the first real rainbow she had ever seen appeared. She wandered among the rocks and once, when she had wandered too far, she found a boulder with strange paintings on it. The strange land called to her; it was so large it seemed to stretch to infinity.

  One morning when Matthew and Luke woke early, they sat on the porch drinking cocoa and watching the sun rise over a large rock in the east, shivering in their shorts, when suddenly something overcame them. Luke rose first and began to run; then Matthew felt the silent call and he, too, began to run. They ran fast as the wind, veering like wayward kites, running on and on until exhausted, they stopped by a small creek, a branch of the Todd River.

  They lay down, winded, and dipped their hands into the rippling water. Fish, silver and quick, darted among the rocks, and they felt strong and new with a happiness they could not explain or understand. The pure air, the healing sun, the beautiful face of nature, had returned to them their lost innocence and healed their bodies. And it was true, with age, memories of their early childhood came back, swiftly - like a movie in glorious technicolor - and they remembered all that was then, the happy time of innocence.

  There were blank spots in their minds that remained vacant, although sometimes in dreams they were chased by assassins and vague memories of veils swaying in the breeze on a tall iron fence. That memory haunted them. But beings chemically controlled they could not be held responsible and the selective amnesia kindly protected them from memories of the evil deeds committed by shadows of themselves in another time...another place.

  Rachael wore the rosary under her shirt, swinging between her breasts, the crystal and Bible lay under her pillow, and the ragged Teddy comforted her.

  The boys fished, then unhooked the fish and threw them back to freedom. The horses became tame under their touch; they rode; they took pleasure in grooming the animals.

  They could feel wonder, happiness, and hope. A reborn innocence emerged.

  Chapter 32

  The ranch was a large, plain affair and the house and grounds were big enough for all of them to go about their own business without being in each other's way.

  In any event, Anderson was too preoccupied to really notice his children and his projects often took him away, off to bid on another factory. The cereal company would be the easiest, he had only to alter the product being produced. His bid for a soft drink company was already in the works.

  He interviewed chemists, but so far he had not found the right team.

  Like an anxious bee darting from flower to flower, he moved from project to project, from place to place.

  Even when he was at the ranch, he ignored his children. He had no time for them - he was busy with architects, carpenters, handymen, and estimates - and more estimates.

  He had almost decided on a plan for the lab, the low flat buildings which would house the chemists; he was waiting for one last estimate for supplies for the buildings, then he would make his final decision and the work could begin.

  He tried not to let the primitive amenities bother him, but when things didn't happen fast enough, he took the paint can and began working on an outbuilding. The painting, the even up and down strokes, calmed him. He knew why.

  But the problem of the well needed to be solved. They would need good water. If the well didn't work out, he would have to irrigate from the nearby spring, or the rocks where the ghost elm indicated the presence of water.

  The well that he had been told was active needed repair; loose rocks kept dropping in. Too impatient to wait for the handyman - Charlie was too slow - he would climb the rig and tie up the rope.

  Rachael's strength, sapped by the miscarriage, grew. On Sunday, lying in the grass, she was drenched by another shower, but before she got to the house the sun shone forth and again she saw a rainbow. She was filled with hope. Across the field, she saw her brothers leading the horses home - how gentle they had become, those two.

  And the rambling frame house with bird nests in its eaves truly felt like home.

  Tired, but happy these days, they ate and went to bed early, sleeping peacefully from the fresh air, sun, and physical exertion.

  Late that night, Rachael heard Anderson get up and then the whine of his tape recorder, spoiling the quiet of the night.

  After turning the machine off, Anderson shuffled through the papers in his briefcase and a note fell out of one of the file folders. He stared at the pink monogrammed paper, recognizing Christine's dainty script. He ordered his hands to be still, but they shook uncontrollably as he opened the letter. It was Rachael’s masterpiece.

  Dear Anderson,

  I forgive you for the fence...the fence...the fence...the fence...the fence...the fence...

  It went on and on endlessly, like a needle stuck on a record and he felt dizzy as he saw the words repeated over and over again on the page. At the very bottom, where it would hardly fit, she had written in the tiniest of script:

  Love, Christine

  He hyperventilated and as he gasped for breath the stench of rotting flesh overcame him; it was here, somewhere in the room, around him, within him. He ran, stumbling, out into the night air.

  Rachael heard the front door slam. Good, it was quiet, and she rolled over into a warm, deep sleep.

  Later it
came, the nightmare of sound - a wail - a plea. "Rachael" - "Rachael" - louder now in the dark night something or someone was calling to her.

  The hoarse sound was like an angry wind demanding that she answer. "Rachael" - the sound splitting the night air. It was him – why was he calling her?

  She remembered vaguely his hands touching her. "No," she said, "No!" She shivered in distaste.

  Then, in contrast, a silence fell, a silence so complete that she could hear the drip of a faucet somewhere in the house and the subtle sound of leaves brushing the window.

  Like a sleepwalker, she got up and looked out into the dark night, clutching the Teddy. No moon - no stars - just endless black.

  She closed the shutters and the sound came again, but more muffled now. It pleaded, "Rachael, please Rachael."

  She turned away and went back to her warm bed putting her head under the pillows.

  With time it became softer, but distinctly still he called, still pleaded, "Rachael, Rachael, please Rachael."

  She pressed her fists to her ears and hugged the Teddy as she rocked back and forth trying to remember the nuns' poems. "Hail Mary, full of grace - I lay me down to sleep - our father who art in heaven - our father - forgive my sins." She rattled the words off, wishing she knew them correctly, those poems - no, they called them prayers, she thought. "I will learn those prayers," she promised herself aloud; and her voice helped drown it out - she could almost not hear him calling. Finally there was silence. She sat up and switched on the light, opened the drawer of her nightstand. The plant lay there innocently, its wedge shaped grey, green leaves wilting, the tiny pink flowers with age had turned to dark red. The branch of Birdsville Indigo waited. She wasn’t sure how much to put in his food, a crushed leaf or two, she wanted it to be slow, that awful picture they told of horses who had eaten the leaves, and the painful demise when the hind quarters no longer worked, the picture of her strange monster of a father, tottering, circling around on rubbery legs was priceless. Her hate knew no bounds.

  She closed the drawer, soon – she would do it soon. She would cook him a dinner, of one of her mother’s favorite dishes as a reminder. She drifted off and she started as the hateful sound rang out again in the dark night.

  “Rachael – Darling Rachael. Please Rachael -- ”

  She started to cover her ears but instead went to the closet and searched a clothes basket. She took out the white satin gown and the matching flowing robe.

  Stopping by the vanity, in the bottom drawer she retrieved the cologne – her mother’s favorite – “Joy”. She sprayed herself liberally of the strong perfume which had clearly gone off.

  Walking slowly in the dark night, she lit a match every once in a while and carefully sought the path to the well, and the sound of his calls led the way as it was a moonless night.

  She could barely make out the stones of the well surface and when she leaned over, the rancid smell wafted up and threatened to create havoc.

  She struck the match and saw him securely caught by the ropes in the well. His face was tilted up, shadows danced there and he no longer looked human, but like a sinister mask.

  “Oh Rachael – thank you – honey baby of mine – thank you – and a bony hand reached up towards her.

  “I can’t reach you – I’m sorry,” she said quietly, and struck another match.

  “Try – oh please try,” he begged. She feigned, her hand half-heartedly reaching.

  “What are you wearing?” he asked, his voice shaking with urgency.

  “A robe.”

  “Does it have a belt, or you could take it off and I could catch onto the cloth.”

  “No belt and I couldn’t take it off, then I would be naked, Daddy.”

  “Rachael,” he screamed – his patience and panic worn thin.

  She struck the last match and as he looked up, her face seemed older and he caught the scent of “Joy”. The body above was like a cloud of white, the sleeves blowing in the breeze seemed like wings, she was like an avenging angel.

  The burned match hit his cheek, then there was only silence and darkness.

  In the morning Charlie knocked and nervously shifted his battered hat from hand to hand.

  When Luke answered the door, Charlie announced, “There’s been an accident.”

  Luke and Matt followed him to the well. After looking, Luke said, “Oh Geez – don’t let Rachael see.”

  Trailing behind, she said, “See what?”

  Looking in the well they could see the rope which caught Anderson under the arms – held him prisoner of the well. Both of his arms had been forced high above his head, and in the many hours of agony that he had hung there, had succeeded in crucifying him.

  The slight touch of Matt’s hand on the rope twirled the body and Anderson’s head changed position and fell back.

  The scream behind them made them aware that Rachael was there and was seeing this horror as well. The almost dry well had attracted reptiles and insects of every sort and, frantically seeking moisture, they had found him. Like a lover, the huge snake had wound itself around Anderson, and they were frozen in a caress as the reptile sucked the tongue of the dead man.

  Insects of every size and color crawled through his raven hair and the sockets that had contained his eyes were empty. Rachael looked with satisfaction as a pair of antenna that belonged to some nameless thing waved and probed the air above the rigid cheek.

  It was this small movement that triggered it, and in sequence, each child in turn gave up the contents of their stomach.

  Matt saw it before he sank to the ground - the shadow. Anderson's shadow on the wall of the well, with his arms held high above his head, looked like a winged thing, looked like the angels on the fence. A dark angel - a fallen angel!

  When Charlie came, Luke, being the oldest, tried apologizing for the mess. "It was the bugs, we couldn't help it."

  Yet Charlie knew, in the genes of his ancestors he knew this dance of death. He knew only the evil ones come to death in this fitting way. Charlie leaned over and spat on the corpse.

  The serpent released his hold, stretched, and slithered down the man's torso. Selecting the right leg, it slid further and further and then, from the tip of the shiny shoe, the large snake dropped back to the bottom of the well.

  Charlie waited until the three children had gone to the house to call the sheriff. Then he looked around and slowly unbuttoned his pants, aimed, and urinated on what was left of the man's face. He looked down into the dark hole. He knew what this well was – another Pluto’s Gate – the Portal to Hell.

  "Stay in hell - where you belong," he hissed at the corpse.

  The tired tape recorder in Anderson's pocket repeated slowly, "It's okay. Anything you wanna do is okay – it’s okay."

  When Charlie turned, he realized that his horse smelling death had panicked and gone, and he now would have to walk the seven miles back to his home on Aborigine land. Before he started out, he went to the house. He knocked and then waited awkwardly, turning his hat round and round in his calloused hands.

  When Luke answered, he said his piece.

  "I told Mister to wait, Charlie fix, but no, he always pulling on the ropes, movin' the stones. His fault, not Charlie fault!"

  Luke nodded in agreement. He repeated, "Not your fault, his fault," and Charlie went away, his conscience at rest.

  Rachael looked up at the sky, and at the panorama spreading before her. She offered her face to the sun and asked, "Can you, will you, do you forgive sins of vengeance?"

  Chapter 33

  The will left everything to a Mrs. Christine Thorpe. Rachael was listed as that person on one of the passports they had used to get through customs.

  "What should we do?" she asked her brothers.

  "Calm down, it's okay," Luke said. "First thing we cancel all his bids and options."

  They looked through the many legal papers and realized how much money there was. There were bank accounts and stocks and they owned outright the
house in Adelaide and the two hundred acres at the ranch - all free and clear.

  "Just for a time, Rachael, we'll have to pretend. Older men have always had young brides. It won't be long and I'll be 21. We can brave it through."

  They planned a private funeral, to be held in Adelaide, and, following the coffin, took the train back to complete the task of Anderson's burial.

  Afterwards, they put the house in Adelaide up for sale and made their way back north to the ranch.

  In Anderson's room, they found it - tucked inside the lining of one of his suitcases. "Oh my God, what is it?" Rachael shrieked innocently as Matthew removed the withered chicken foot with a black bow tied around it.

  "Rosa - it must have been Rosa," Rachael said. "She always hated him."

  They finished going through Anderson's things; the mounds of papers that were meaningless now - the bids, the options, the proposals - and the commercials, and tapes, and videos of campaigns. Luke made a bonfire in the yard and they fed it with all those superfluous things, the tapes smoldering and for a time fouling the purity of the air.

  It was Luke who undid the purple scarf and opened the twin frame. One side of the frame was blank, but the other contained a picture cut out of a newspaper a long time ago.

  The stared at the mad eyes; it looked like him - like their father - but it wasn't. Jesus, why would anyone save a picture of him.

  Matthew snatched the frame and stared closer, unbelieving. "It’s Hitler - Adolph Hitler," and as he blurted out that evil name he dropped the frame and all into the flames.

  The glass cracked, the metal sparked, and the old paper curled and blackened.

  It was over. Somehow they knew something important was finished, destroyed, over.

  Chapter 34

  Their nightmares faded and became dim figures from that time they did not remember.

  Their minds, like broken things, healed and melded together, whole once more.