Dark Corner (14 page)

It was dark inside, and the awful smell made Junior want
to vomit. He covered his mouth with his shirt.

Mamu was ahead of them, out of sight around a corner.
The backsplash of his lamp gave them a little light as they
picked their way forward. Junior and Andre moved forward,
in step with one another.

They reached the corner of the cavern tunnel. Junior
heard Mamu and the other guy speaking in hushed tones.

Andre put his finger to his lips. He and Junior leaned forward and peeked around the corner.

What they saw made them drop to the ground in stupefied
shock.

Human skeletons. Dozens of them, piled one atop the
other across the ground. Many of the corpses were swaddled
in old rags.

Junior's stomach flip-flopped. He vomited.

Through his teary eyes, he saw the guy in black and Mamu, standing at the far end of the mass of skeletons. They
saw him.

"Get out of here!" the man in black said, his voice like
thunder. He pointed in Junior's direction, and Junior felt
himself lifted in the air by an unseen power. He was flung
against the wall with tremendous force, the breath whooshing out of his lungs, pain cracking across his back. He collapsed on a warm cushion underneath him, and realized that
his cushion was actually Andre.

Weak and dazed, but filled with a terror that he had never
known, Junior grabbed Andre by the scruff of his neck. Andre
got his legs under him, and the two of them broke out of there.

They ran all the way to Andre's car.

Kyle was relieved when the two men fled. He regretted
that it had been necessary to use force against them. But he
was close to achieving his goal and would allow nothing to
impede his progress.

Mamu bowed his head. "I selected our laborers poorly. I
apologize, monsieur"

"I accept your apology. Let us hope the men remember
their vow to remain silent about what they witnessed.
Perhaps their fear will ensure obedience."

Kyle, too, had been surprised to discover so many fireblackened corpses. From Mother's tale of his father's demise,
he had known that his father had recruited a number of vampiric warriors, but he had not expected to find so many. He
had counted twenty-one bodies. How powerful his father
must have been to command such a horde to follow him on
his murderous mission!

The air in the cavern was thick with stale, pent-up air
and latent energy. Kyle sensed his father's presence; it was
like a coolness in the ether. It raised the hairs at the nape of
Kyle's neck. He shivered with a thrill of anticipation.

He hated that Mother had lied to him for so long about
his father, but he was grateful that when she finally revealed
the truth, she had spared no details. Mother had given him
the precise location of this cave, though she never had seen it
with her own eyes.

Indeed, Mother had told him everything-except for
where he would find his father sleeping within the earthen
tomb. She rightfully expected that Kyle would be able to discover his father's resting place on his own.

"When we are finished tonight, I would like for you to return here and dispose of the bodies." Kyle swept his arm
across the heap of fallen vampires. "Burn them to ashes, and
bury them. I don't wish to leave behind any evidence."

"It will be done"

Deeper in the tunnel, Kyle saw symbols engraved on the
wall. He moved closer.

The symbols were a language that Kyle could not interpret.

"Can you read this?" he said to Mamu. Mamu was fluent
in nine languages.

Mamu brought the lamp closer. The words had been chiseled into the rock.

"I am sorry," Mamu said. "It is an African tongue, I believe, but I cannot decipher the meaning. I can research it-"

"He lies here" Kyle tapped his boot on the ground beneath the inscription. "I sense it. My father lies here!"

Kyle dropped to his knees. He traced his fingertips across
the smooth, cool cavern floor.

"I feel him, underneath us," Kyle said in a trembling
voice. "Ah, the power"

He plunged his hands into the earth. Mamu set down the
lamp and came forward to help him, but Kyle shoved him
aside.

"I will do this alone. I have waited all my life for this moment!"

He tore great plugs of dirt out of the ground. He worked
with machinelike speed. Dust plumed through the air, coated
his face and his hands. But he did not slow.

After he had dug about three feet beneath the surface, he
touched something: cloth. Cotton overalls.

He furiously ripped away chunks of earth.

Dusty, dark skin became visible. Cool to the touch.

Kyle heard someone shouting. He initially thought it
was Mamu, but it was him. He cried, "I am here, Father!"
in a delirious chant.

He uncovered large hands, long arms, a wide torso, broad
shoulders. Then a face.

Even though his father's face was slack and crusted with
dirt, the resemblance to his own features was clear.

My father.

Tears tracked down Kyle's cheeks.

But his father's eyes did not open. He continued to float
in the depths of Sleep.

Kyle dug away more dirt, freed his father's legs.

"Extraordinary," Mamu whispered. "He is so well preserved, as if he had slept only a day."

"Help me, Mamu!" Kyle gently hooked his hands under
his father's armpits. "Lift his legs!"

Together, they removed Diallo from the grave. Kyle carefully cradled his father's head in his arms.

He felt as if he might explode from the impact of the
emotion that rushed through him. He was crying, trembling.

He rested his fingers against Diallo's neck. The flesh was
cool. But there came, slowly, the throb of a pulse.

"He is alive," Kyle said.

Awe widened Mamu's eyes. "I will help you transport
him inside, monsieur"

"I will do it myself." Kyle placed his arm under his father's back, then slid his other arm in the bend at the back of
Diallo's knees.

His father was enormous. He had to be at least seven feet
tall, and weighed well over two hundred pounds.

Nevertheless, Kyle carried him. Weeping, Kyle carried
him all by himself, toward the house.

Toward a new life.

r1unday morning, David attended worship service at New
liLife Baptist Church, on Main Street. Nia had mentioned
that his father had attended the church regularly and counted
the pastor as a friend. David hoped to speak to Reverend
Brown after the service, to learn more about his dad.

The church was a large, simple brick building with stained
glass windows and a gleaming white cross atop the roof. Inside,
dozens of polished oak pews filled the sanctuary. The pews
were lined with plush, royal blue cushions that matched the
carpeting. White lamps that resembled small globes hung
from the ceiling, showering the chapel in golden light.

David arrived early for the eight o'clock service. At a
quarter to eight, the church was nearly full. He sat near the
back. A chorus of six men and women arrived at the altar
and launched into a familiar song of praise. He tapped his
foot in rhythm with the beat. Although New Life was smaller
than the church he attended in Atlanta, a comforting atmosphere filled the place.

When he was a child, David's mother had dragged him
and his sister to church every Sunday, forcing him to attend Sunday school and participate in activities such as the youth
choir. David had learned a great deal and mostly enjoyed
going, but he grew to resent his mother's pushing him to attend, yanking him out of bed when he wanted to sleep in, demanding that he go to choir practice when he'd rather hang
out with his friends. He vowed that as soon as he moved out
of her house, he would go to church if he felt like it-and if
he didn't feel like it, he wouldn't go. When he moved out to
attend college, he went through a period of eight years during which he slipped into church no more than four times a
year.

But two years ago, one of his high school friends died in
a car accident. David suddenly decided to begin attending
church again. There was nothing like a shattering realization
of your own mortality to awaken a yearning for Divine guidance.

Worship service began promptly at eight. Reverend
Brown made his way to the altar. He was a bear of a man,
middle-aged, with glasses and a somber demeanor. He was
dressed in a conservative blue suit, and the only piece of
jewelry he wore was a wedding ring.

A choir of about twenty-five people led the congregation
through several stirring songs. People clapped, sang, shouted,
and danced. David smiled. Baptist churches were the same
across the South.

After the choir finished singing, a slim woman in a yellow dress read the announcements, and then asked the visitors to stand to be welcomed. David hesitated, then rose.

"What is your name, young man?" the woman said.

"David Hunter."

A murmur rolled through the crowd. That's Richard
Hunter's boy, many people whispered. Looks just like his
daddy. Reverend Brown raised his head from his notes and
made eye contact with David. David nodded at him, and the
reverend nodded in return.

Now that he had made his presence known, he was certain that the pastor would make it a point to speak to him
after the service. He sat, palms sweating in anticipation.

The reverend delivered a sermon about seeking the truth
and being prepared for the answer you might receive. He
spoke in a clear baritone, sprinkling his speech with precise
references to Bible scriptures. "'Ask, and it shall be opened
to you,"' he said. "But to this I'll add, you better know what
you're asking for and be ready for the answer! Don't go
knocking on God's door till you got your act together! Can I
get an amen, friends?"

A chorus of amens! erupted from the congregation.

When the service concluded, exit doors along the sides of
the building opened. People filed out into the steaming
morning, buzzing with conversation. David had seen the
pastor stride into the lobby, so that was where he headed.

On his way, many people approached him to ask if he
was, indeed, the son of Richard Hunter, and he confirmed
that he was. "Boy, you a spittin' image of your daddy!" was
the most common response. Then they offered their condolences. David thanked them, and moved on.

He found Reverend Brown in the lobby, greeting church
members with handshakes and hugs. David awaited his turn,
and when he finally came face-to-face with the pastor, he
was startled when the man pulled him into an embrace.

"I prayed that you'd come to the service, David," he whispered. "I have to speak to you"

"Okay," David wheezed, his chest constricted by the rev-
erend's bear hug.

Reverend Brown relinquished his hold. He put his meaty
hands on David's shoulders and sized him up, grinning.

"I know you've heard this many times, son, but you look
exactly like your father did as a young man"

David smiled. "Yes, I've heard it before"

The pastor's smile faded. "I want to speak to you in my office. It's at the end of the hallway. Please wait in there, and
I'll be with you in a few minutes. I have to finish greeting the
church family."

What's this all about? David wondered, walking away. At
the end of the hall, a sign beside a door read "Reverend
Brown"

It was a small but comfortable office, with a large oak
desk, a leather chair, and two padded chairs flanking the
desk. Photographs hung on the walls. The pastor had two
framed degrees, one from Hampton University, the other
from Alcorn State. An attractive family photo-the pastor,
his wife, and two teenaged boys stood on the desk. A window gave a view of the meadow behind the church.

Reverend Brown entered the office five minutes later. He
settled into his chair and removed his glasses. He massaged
the bridge of his nose.

"That was a powerful sermon you preached this morning," David said.

"Thank you," Reverend Brown said. "I also found it appropriate that you happened to be in attendance the morning
I delivered that particular sermon. It proves the hand of God
in our lives."

"I'm afraid I don't follow you," David said.

Reverend Brown tapped the desk with his thick index finger. "Seeking truth, son. You've come to Mason's Corner because you're seeking the truth about your father. Is that
right?"

"How did you know?"

"I knew your father well. Probably better than anyone in
this town. He told me that he hadn't done right by you. But
when he passed on, he left you ... everything" Reverend
Brown spread his hands to emphasize his point.' Yes, he told
me that he was going to bequeath his fortune to you. It was
bound to make you curious and eager to learn more about
Richard."

David was stunned at the pastor's insight.

"I'll interpret your silence as confirmation that I'm correct," Reverend Brown said.

David leaned forward. "What can you tell me about my
dad?"