I can feel, though, and I’m in pain and feel terror like I’ve never known, so I go back to my old neutralizin’ game to give my mind a task. Dashboard. Vinyl blend. Maroon. Glove compartment. I’m neutralizin’, which keeps me steady and blocks out the old lady bitchin’ next to me, and in this state, I have an unusual thought.
The General’s Woods. I’m pretty sure that the general to which that name refers is Wade Hampton III.
Virgil Hampton. Why didn’t I put it together before? They’re related. His ancestor was a wealthy slaveholder, Confederate general, and early KKK financial backer. As well as famous South Carolinian (these are our celebrities). We—all of us—just keep fightin’ the same battles in new eras with new faces each time. It’s never ending. Until the world changes in an unfathomable way, our kinda Jubilation ain’t never gonna die out.
When we’re close enough, I make her stop the car in the middle of the road, and I jump out and race off, down into the thick forest. I run, managin’ to keep myself from stumblin’ or rammin’ into a giant trunk. I run until I hear voices ahead.
I slow down so they don’t hear my steps, but I keep pushing toward them, and I see a flickering light through the trees. I follow the light and sounds down a steep incline and practically come tumbling down the hill to a clearing. Where there is a large bonfire. And next to it are five crackers, jokin’, drinkin’, and takin’ turns beatin’ Clay.
“NO!” I shout. They briefly go silent, and I need to focus on these fiends, but my eyes and heart go right to Clay and his swollen features, one eye shut, the other starin’ at me as his bleedin’ mouth forms the word “Evvie.”
Once their shock wears off, they laugh.
“And what you gonna do about it, li’l girl?” one of ’em asks me. “Flap them big lips?”
“I got somethin’ she can flap ’em on,” another one says. Him I throw straight up into a tree. The first one I just knock over with a thought, and the others go down like squirmin’ dominoes as I run to Clay.
I cradle him in my arms. “It’s gonna be okay,” I say, rockin’ him as the men holler and curse and try to resist my hold on ’em.
“Nigger witch!” one of ’em spits.
I’m dippin’ down low into my red-orange space, but I can’t hold ’em all. Not all at the same time. I don’t have enough strength, and my anger is compromised by my heartache for Clay.
I can’t do this. And more are comin’. I hear ’em on their way down the hill. This is a party. A real event.
“Evvie,” Clay whispers.
“Shhh, baby, it’s okay,” I whisper back, tryna sound calm.
“Leave,” he says. “Just get outta here.”
I rock him faster as I think about all the tools I have and try to figure out what to do.
“I am a child of God I am not ugly I will do no…,” I say as I rock. “I am a child of God I am not ugly I will do no…” I can’t say it. I want to do them harm. I want to pierce every nerve in their bodies. Atti was right: I want to destroy them.
I’m doin’ my best to hold ’em, but they’re gettin’ loose. Gettin’ loose and gettin’ close, drinkin’ more beer and conspirin’. They wanna punish me for my trespasses.
I look around wildly and see it. Just yards away from me and Clay—Bottomless Pit. On the other side of it was where I made it snow. That means Grammie Atti is only yards, the width of the pond, and a mile or so away.
More noise, more nasty laughter, more beer cans. About a dozen are here now, and I’ll be damned if Virgil ain’t one of ’em. I thought I still had him and Teddy bound, but I’m startin’ to see I don’t have as much control as I thought.
I call to Grammie Atti. I call hard. I cannot do this on my own.
“Grab her,” one of ’em says. Another two put their hands on me, and I dip into red-orange and repel them off me with electric shocks. They yelp and cuss me.
“Fuck this bitch! I ain’t touchin’ her!”
In that brief instant, others pounce on Clay, and they kick him in his ribs, and somebody, sweet Jesus, somebody steps on his fingers, and I hear the catastrophic crunch.
“Leave him alone,” I scream! He can barely move!
“Looks like I win again,” Miss Athena—Atti only to her near and dear—cackles at her associates around the card table, which she’s moved into the sittin’ room for Saturday night pinochle.
“You cheat,” Miss Mary Margaret complains.
Miss Athena relishes her triumph, collects her winnings, and then she stops as if suspended in time. The other women talk among themselves and don’t notice that Miss Athena has stopped moving. Stopped breathing.
“I’ll be back,” she announces, and rises.
This is unusual. She never skips out on pinochle early.
“Are you gonna keep playin’ or not?”
“Deal me out,” she says.
She walks through her back door, out into the night. It’s a good mile to get to her destination, and she’s gotta move fast. Her granddaughter has called on her for help. Evvie has never done this before. She can’t ignore this call.
Miss Athena sees and hears them long before she’s in their midst and has to pause to catch her breath. She places a hand out to lean on a tree for support.
I didn’t see her land. But I heard it.
Any thoughts of her mother she must let go. She shakes them from her head. Any thoughts of her Roy left on the train tracks way back when she was Evalene’s age she must let go. She mustn’t be clouded by grief tonight. She gathers all her wits about her.
I’m tryna fight ’em off and protect Clay at the same time, and I’m not succeeding. We’re in a sinking ship, Clay and me. Every time I plug one hole, another leak springs up.
I’m runnin’ on empty in red-orange cuz I’m gettin’ too tired to feel properly angry. I can’t figure out how to change the atmosphere without gettin’ happy first, and I am about as far away from happy as I can be. And clarity? I can’t locate a clear thought in my head right now. One of ’em throws a punch that catches my jaw and knocks me sideways till I topple over. Immediately I roll onto my stomach, spit out blood, and start crawlin’ back to Clay despite the pain. My sankofa necklace scrapes the ground under me, still clinging around my neck. As I crawl, Virgil punches the guy who punched me, about six times in a row. Guess he’s the only one allowed to hurt me.
And that gives me an idea. I can’t hold them all, but I can steer one. I make Virgil my puppet and use him to sock, kick, and bite any of ’em that’s on Clay.
“Stop it, you fucking—” He tries to insult me, but I lock his lips to shut him up. He can’t stop me and I ain’t stoppin’. I’m gettin’ weaker, though, and Clay. Oh, Clay. What have they done to you?
“Clay!”
He’s left on the ground as a few of the others try to restrain Virgil. His breathing is comin’ slow now. I reach out to touch him, but as I get near, he’s moving away. They’re right back on him and pullin’ him away from me. I grab for him, but its no use.
Where is my puppet? I don’t see Virgil anywhere now, and it’s gettin’ hard to see anything at all cuz there’s smoke in my eyes. Smoke blowin’ all around in giant billowy puffs makin’ me cough and choke.
It’s too late, baby. My mother said that. Where is she?
You gotta run now! You gotta let him go! she says.
Mama, help us! Please!
You are a child of God! You are not ugly—
“SHUT UP,” I scream at her, wherever she is. I need more than a prayer! I am losin’ oxygen fast.
The glow of the fire is fadin’ from me and I’m fadin’ from everything and I’m startin’ to feel relief. Just to be able to rest…
NO! I cannot give up. With the last strain of power I can feel, I reach into my gut. I can’t think. I don’t know what to do. So I combine red-orange, greenish-yellow, and purple-silver into one giant undulating rainbow.
My head hits the ground. The smoke thickens. The rainbow vibrates and glows, and i
t ain’t peaceful like the first one I made. This one smells like electricity and moves like a twister. I try and fail to lift my head. My hand absently clutches at my necklace. Go back and get it Go back and get it. Reach back into the past… take what’s yours. The words float in my brain, barely makin’ sense anymore. My eyes start to close for good, but they spy somethin’ unbelievable. Something even more extraordinary than my volcanic rainbow.
I see a miracle.
The haze all around me ain’t just smoke. It’s them. My haints. The blurry, giggling, and frightening shadows lurking at the corners of my life since before I can remember. Here and now, I can finally see their forms and their faces clearly. These women—all women, all family—in flowing, transparent gowns tinted with violet and lavender and indigo. So many colors. My rainbow acts like a vibrant highway for them—a bridge between their world and ours.
I feel a bit of energy come back, and I’m able to dip into the clarity belt for a moment. And when I do, I see them as they left this world. The one in front has deep bruises and strangulation marks on her neck. Heavy welts across her chest. Another has burns all over her body and part of her face has melted. The one behind her shrinks in size to become a flesh-covered skeleton. She must’ve starved. They rebelled in their lives, and their rebellion scared someone so much, they tortured each of them to death. I wonder what I’ll look like when I join them. I don’t intend to find out tonight.
In defiance of their mutilated bodies, they all smile at me, and I think I smile back. This is my family, and they’re beautiful and terrifying all at the same time. Like me.
I almost laugh; I must be in some kinda delirium. And then I hear a cry come outta Clay that chills my blood.
“HELP US!” I wail. Please, God, let them help us.
Miss Athena reaches the pond, holding her chest and breathing hard. On the other side of the water there is a massive bonfire and a lynch mob dragging the boy away. Her granddaughter lies on the ground, losing consciousness.
Miss Athena would never make it across the pond in time. But she sees them too. An unending chain of haints hovering above all their heads.
I’m here, she calls to her granddaughter, who’s too weak to reply.
Miss Athena must attempt something dangerous. Something no living soul should ever do.
Opening her arms wide, she roars into the atmosphere:
“SistersMothers,
DaughtersOthers,
We have been kin since our time began.
We will be kin after our time ends.
Your youngest daughter has called upon you.
Yo sperrit am our bress.2
’E wantuh, needuh hunnuh. Yuh.3
As your loyal daughter
I grant you permission
To transform your condition.
Come down
To the world you left.
Come down.
You needn’t feel bereft.
Come down,
Guide us,
Abide us,
If you must,
Crawl inside us.
Do what you need
To make them bleed!”
Miss Athena can’t catch her breath. She fears she’s about to faint when someone approaches. She turns and searches the night until she sees a familiar face right next to her. She’s surprised but shouldn’t be. Miss Indigo grabs her mother’s hand, and they both cry:
“SistersMothers,
DaughtersOthers,
Come down.
Come down.
Come down.
COME DOWN!”
Miss Athena falls back against a tree, spent. Miss Indigo strokes her mother’s back.
The floating haints crash to earth. Miss Athena, her God-fearing daughter, and her granddaughter have helped them return to the human versions of themselves. This is their moment.
The white men scream and scatter, tripping over their own feet and empty beer cans. The haints laugh at the comedy of it. Their laughter is too loud, too screechy, too otherworldly to be mortal.
One of the men, who was just torturing Evvie’s boyfriend, tries to escape, but they catch him. He falls over in his tracks, and they drag him back to the fire without laying a hand on him. He cries and pleads for mercy. They huddle around him, listening to his pleas, but they quickly tire of him, and one sinks her finger low into his forehead, penetrating his skull.
From across the pond, Miss Indigo watches in horror, sickened but unable to turn away. Miss Athena watches, fascinated. She didn’t know what the haints would do if she invited them down and lent them some flesh and blood. So far, she isn’t disappointed.
They’re here. For real. I can’t see much. I pull myself up from the ground to try to make out what’s happening. The crackers yell and scatter, bumpin’ into themselves like clowns. The haints laugh their eerie laugh like this is the funniest show they’ve ever seen. Most of the fools get away, and that’s fine with me, since they just had the fright of their lives. One of ’em comes out from behind the trees where they had Clay and he tries to run, but he doesn’t make it. He falls over mid-run like a sack a potatas, and they yank him backward at breakneck speed, his useless body leaving a deep trail in the earth. He cries and begs. They huddle over him, but they ain’t about mercy. One of ’em digs her long finger into his face, and he goes unconscious.
They laugh some more—they’re beyond giggling. The party is now theirs.
It looked like alla the men were gone, but a new one emerges from the trees, pale and quivering. He tries to quietly make his escape while the haints huddle around their first catch.
My energy’s returning. Just in time. I latch on to him and hold him where he is as panic fills his entire being. Then I send a huge ball of flame into the air, causing the whole fire to rise and roar.
The haints whip around to see the victim I’ve caught for them, and they cheer. By the time they dance over to him, his Levi’s are urine-soaked and he’s too petrified to speak. They barely look at him, and he falls limp at their feet. They strip him naked and carry him over to the blaze, where he will meet the same fate as the other unfortunate soul.
And then… burning flesh. They complete the tableau I saw in my vision, sans future Atti. As before, they’re eating; their party has become a cookout. Only now I see what it is they’re eating. I’m too stupefied to shudder.
All is quiet as they munch on their game. While they eat, they hum. It’s not music. They’re like cats purring. Sated.
Gradually they start to evaporate back into the atmosphere. I don’t know why they’re leaving. Perhaps they can’t be living things for long. The rainbow takes them away from me, wrapping them up like a present, and then they disappear. I try to stand, and I do it without much of a problem. I’m hurtin’ all over, but my energy seems to be restored.
Then I see him. Dimly in the firelight. He’s up and he’s walkin’. Staggerin’, limpin’, and bleedin’ from everywhere, but he’s walkin’! We look at each other, him with the only working eye he has right now, but he sees me. I know he sees me. I’m scared to death to draw attention to the fact that Clay’s walkin’ on his own in case any more white men have been hidin’ and are ready to reappear now that the haints are gone. So I start moving toward him slowly. And with my mind’s voice I tell him, I love you.
And he hears me! He says, I love you, too. Now I’m cryin’, and I have to run to him to nurse him back to health. To do whatever I can—
Thunder. Bouncing off the trees. Hanging in the air. I hear it before I see.
Clay falls to his knees, then slumps over. No movement. No breath. Still.
I run to him and turn him over. His eye is still open. I imagine I can still see the love in it.
But it’s all gone now.
A bullet has pierced his chest right in the middle. His heart. Clay lies dead in my arms.
A keening moan ripples through me and outside me. The haints. They know. They’re sorry. They made a mistake. They didn’t get the right one.<
br />
Virgil Hampton stands off to the side with a hunting rifle in his hand. He looks at the fire and the charred remains of his chums. He shakes his head in disgust.
He dares to open his mouth to me again.
“If you’d been a good girl, none a this woulda happened,” he calls. “No. You had to use your niggery devilment, didn’t ya? Now see what you did? I hate that word. You’ve reduced me to a common redneck.”
Red orange red orange no more purple no more green no more rainbows.
“Despite your attitude, I woulda given you everything. You really blew it, girl.”
When it starts, it sounds like a thousand harmless breezes, but the louder it gets, the clearer the sound. They’re chanting now. Chanting in rhythm. The same thing over and over, faster and faster. Happy-happy happy-happy happy-happy happy-happy…
“You know what’s ironic? Your boy was late. He ran up to your door all outta breath. Only to find you gone. They woulda got to him eventually. No doubt about it. But who knows what might’ve happened if you’d just waited a little bit longer? So the way I see it, what became of him? That’s on you too.”
Red orange red orange redorangeredorangeredorangeredorangered—
Happy-happy happy-happy happy-happy happy-happy happy-happy REDREDREDREDRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR
“Evalene,” a haint screeches from somewhere in the clouds. “There is only one way. Jubilation comes from VENGEANCE.”
Miss Athena and Miss Indigo watch Evalene. The one white man left shot that poor boy like a lame horse.
It’s my fault, says Miss Indigo.
It’s HIS fault, says Miss Athena.
The man’s speaking to Evalene, and she turns her head and, at last, sees her mother and grandmother on the other side of the pond in the dark. Her eyes go flat, and she won’t communicate with them. Miss Athena and Miss Indigo summon what strength they have left and send it to Virgil. Miss Athena intends to stop him; Miss Indigo intends to rip him apart. Neither happens. It doesn’t work. Miss Indigo peers at her mother in fear.
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