“Everything you were trying to accomplish? And just what was that? Seducing every female in town? Ruining the reputations of decent people?”
“Decent people? Excuse me, did you say decent people? Are we living in the same town, Charlie? There are no decent people here. Are you so short-sighted that you can’t see what I’ve been doing? You can’t see that I’m doing God’s work here?”
From near the far bunk, Tassie said, “Holy shit.”
We both looked at her.
She said, “You cats are out of your goddamn minds.”
A moment of silence.
Then she added, “My opinion. Never mind. Carry on.”
The Reverend laughed, and it wasn’t the good old boy laugh I’d come to know, and it wasn’t even the quietly menacing laugh from a few days earlier. This was a laugh of outright surprise.
“I reckon it does sound kinda funny when you say it out loud, don’t it, girlie? But it’s no joke. I came here to Cuba Landing for a purpose. To do God’s will.”
I said, “And what is God’s will?”
“The Apocalypse, Charlie. I’m here to bring down God’s wrath on the heads of the sinful and wicked. I’m here to exact divine justice.”
No one said anything for what seemed like minutes. Then Tassie broke the silence.
“Wow,” she said. “Divine justice, huh? That’s something, that is.”
“Are you mocking me, girlie?”
Tassie raised her hands. “No, no. Divine justice, hey. I’m behind you one hundred and ten percent, man.”
He looked at her, his grin slowly returning. “You’re a spunky little bird, ain’t you? Kinda smart to be mixed up with my boy Charlie.”
“I was just thinking the same thing. Maybe I should go, let you fellas hash this thing out?”
“Not just yet, girlie. Charlie took my audience away from me back at the church. Least you can do is listen to the sermon I had planned.”
“About Jathed Garrity,” I said. “You were getting ready to tell everyone what happened to him up in Memphis.”
“Jathed who?” Tassie said.
The Reverend shrugged. “This is kinda disappointing, really. She don’t even know who Jathed Garrity is; it kinda takes some of the punch out of it, you know.”
But he wanted to tell it, I could see it in his eyes and his posture. I kept my eyes on him, weighing my options. I’d never thought before about the possibility of a physical confrontation with him, never thought out what I might do if I had to take him on. No reason to think he might be stronger than me, or faster. No reason not to jump him right then and there, knock that insidious smile right down his throat.
But I didn’t. I couldn’t. Each time I felt myself moving toward him, ready to swing, something held me back.
He said, “I met Jathed Garrity, you know. Did I get that far at the church, did I mention that? I met him. I was at the Baptist convention and I met him and we really hit it off. He was a good old boy, I really liked him. That’s no lie. And I truly do hate what happened to him.”
“And what, exactly, happened to him?”
“He got himself killed, is what happened. See, Jathed and me, we got to talking at the convention and starting getting pretty chummy, right? We even got together after, went and had us some dinner, just talking about God and how each of us came to the Light. We musta’ talked for hours. A real meeting of the minds, you know? So we wind up back at his room, at the Peabody Hotel. I hadn’t checked into any place yet, so he invited me to share his room with him. He was just that kinda man, he was.”
“You killed him, after all,” I said, even though I knew it wasn’t true.
He scowled. “I did no such thing. I liked Jathed. I wouldn’t a’ harmed a hair on his pious little head. But,”—the grin again—“I was there when it happened. I saw Jathed die.”
In my peripheral vision, Tassie edged around the far wall, moving toward the door. The Reverend saw her too, I knew, but he seemed unconcerned. She wasn’t going anywhere, that much was for sure.
“See,” he said. “We just got to his room, and I had to take a monstrous shit. So I excused myself to the bathroom. I was just settling in for a nice long one when I heard a knock on the outside door. I heard Jathed answer it, and you know what he said?”
I said nothing.
“He said, ‘China. China Bones, what are you doing here?’ ”
He laughed out loud. “How you like that, Charlie my boy? China Bones, the little guitar-playing Sambo, wouldn’t hurt no one, came all the way up to Memphis, just to put a bullet in Jathed’s chest. I was peeking through the door, sitting there on the crapper, I saw the whole damn thing. China walked right into that room, shut the door behind him, pulled out a gun and said, ‘You ain’t gonna take Perrin away from us.’ And then he shot poor ol’ Jathed right in the chest.”
“And you just cowered in the bathroom, did you?” I said. “Just sat there with your pants around your ankles and let him kill your new friend?”
He shrugged. “Hey, I liked the man, but I wasn’t about to go and get myself killed on his account. I only just met the unlucky sonofabitch, didn’t I? But I tell you what I did do. When China left, I came out and I went to Jathed and I heard his last words. I ain’t gonna tell you what they were, that’s between me and Jathed and God, and it don’t matter much anyway. But he died in my arms, with me saying a prayer over his spirit. I found the Bible in his inside jacket pocket, the Bible with a clean little bullet hole right through its center, and I cleaned the blood off the cover and I vowed to Jesus to use that Bible to bring retribution for Jathed’s soul. I wasn’t sure just how or when, but I knew I’d make my way down to Cuba Landing and deal out God’s wrath on the sinners that destroyed Jathed.”
“Just took it upon yourself then? Appointed yourself Angel of Divine Judgment?”
“I didn’t appoint myself, asshole. God appointed me. And besides, it’s not like I had other things to do. So I hauled Jathed’s body outta there, out the back way, shoved him in the trunk of my Malibu, and dumped him in the Mississippi River.”
“Jesus.”
Tassie was getting nearer to the door, near enough for the Reverend to finally comment. “That’s about far enough, cutie pie. Why don’t you ease yourself back on in here and sit down, huh?”
Tassie said, “Look, I don’t know what any of this is about, okay? You guys are talking all this religious shit, and I’m not even a Christian. I don’t know what any of this means, but it’s seriously freaky and I don’t want any part of it.”
“Not a Christian?” the Reverend grimaced, as if he’d never in his life considered the possibility that someone might not share his faith. “You some kinda atheist then? Or even worse, one of them there Catholics?”
“No, I just . . . look, I don’t have anything to do with this.”
“Oh, but you do, little girlie. You done aligned yourself with the forces of darkness, and you’re just gonna have to take the punishment God decrees.”
I said, “Give it a rest. You almost sound like you believe this shit yourself. You know as well as I do that you’re a liar and a hypocrite. You hide behind the cross and the Bible; you use it to justify your own appetite for wickedness. All you care about is fucking and drinking and messing up other people’s lives, so come down off your goddamn high horse and just admit what you are, why don’t you? Do us all a favor. Because if there is a God, I can promise you, He’d have nothing to do with people like you and me.”
The Reverend’s eyes grew wide with outrage and anger, and the calm, in-control demeanor evaporated. His voice shaking with fury, he said, “This ain’t no joke, you lowlife mental case. Do us all a favor, you say? Do us all a favor, you piece of shit? Well, why don’t you do us all a favor, and don’t try to talk about shit you don’t know nothin’ about, you hear me? You ain’t nothing but a pawn in this, you understand? You ain’t nothing but the expendable little piece of human garbage I picked to help pave the way for my . . . my personal Apocalypse.”
“Personal Apoc—”
“Shut up! Shut up, Charlie! It ain’t your turn to speak, you half-witted little nut job! Who do you think you are? You think you know something, Charlie? Well, you don’t, you don’t know a thing, you hear me? Tell me, why don’t you tell me, what kinda person comes into a laundromat and picks up a Bible and just starts reading it, huh? And not only that, not only does he pick it up and stick his nose in it, never mind that it’s damn near unreadable ’cause of the hole right through it, but what else does he do? He takes it with him! He leaves the laundromat and takes the Bible with him!”
“You left it—”
“Damn right I left it. I left it for you, or someone like you. ’cause I’ll tell you what kinda person does that, what kinda person finds a Bible in a laundromat and reads it and keeps it and hides it away, even when he knows that keeping it could implicate him in a murder. Someone whose life lacks meaning, that’s who. Someone who wants, desperately, to believe in something. Anything. An empty vessel, with no purpose and no point. Do you get it now, you sorry sonofabitch?”
I didn’t say anything. Because I did get it. And I couldn’t help it, I started laughing then.
He glared at me, and his voice dripped with dark anger, “Something funny, Charlie? Does all this strike you as amusing?”
I nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, it really does. It’s funny that we think this is all so important. Because it’s not. It’s not important at all, and it’s funny that you really believe you’re something special.”
“Oh, is it?”
“Yeah. You’re pathetic.”
He clenched his fists, gritted his teeth. “Okay, Charlie. How ’bout I give you something to really laugh about, huh?”
I saw them first, at the doorway, behind the Reverend, but I didn’t comment. They stepped into the room, three of them, and the last one kicked the door closed behind him and the Reverend jumped. He whipped around to face them, and got a fist in the nose.
He stumbled back, almost directly into me, clutching his face, blood streaming down his jaw.
The one who punched the Reverend rubbed his fist, scowling, and said, “Yeah, let’s do that. Let’s have us a good old time.”
Three gangsters from Memphis, armed with big silver handguns. The one who took up the rear, by the door, also had a sawed-off. He slung it over his shoulder like a G.I. at ease and his smile was so easy that you could have forgotten they were there to kill some people.
From the far side of the room, Tassie said, “Damnit.”
Reverend Childe bent over, stunned, blood streaming from his face.
The gangster with the shotgun stood at least a head taller than the others, and his bare arms swelled with muscles and tattoos. He said, “What the . . . what the hell is that smell?”
“No shit,” said the one in the lead, the one who punched the Reverend. “Smells like dead monkey ass.” He was sleek and small and hard looking, with a pale scar running the length of his forehead.
All three of them laughed, and Scar Face said, “You are some hard bastards to catch up with, you know that? And you,” nodding in my direction, “well, you a lot more than what you seem, ain’t you, homes?”
Shotgun said, “He seem like just another dumb-ass cracker fuck.”
“Yeah. But he’s really a dumb-ass cracker fuck can just shrug off a bullet or two in the stomach.”
Ka-chunk went the shotgun. “We see if he can shrug off this.”
Laughter all around. I didn’t feel as indestructible as they thought I was, what with the Reverend making the strange power disappear, but I screwed up my bravado and said, “Give it a try. Let’s see what happens.”
The Reverend had stumbled over near the giant cross, making the occasional “guh” sound, leaving a mess of blood all over the place. But as the three gangsters came another few steps into the room, his noises started to sound more like words.
“Jesus Christ!” he said. “What the . . . who the . . . who are you assholes?”
The gangster in the lead looked at the others and they all laughed again. They liked to laugh. Happy happy gangsters. He said, “My name is Hobby, preacher man. That’s what you are, right? A motherfuckin’ preacher? I gotta admit, the last thing I expected to see here was a preacher.”
“No shit,” said Shotgun.
“Just cuz I’m a preacher don’t mean I can’t whup your ass, boy.”
The third gangster, ferret-faced and dreadlocked, hadn’t said anything until then. But now his grin disappeared and he finally spoke, “Boy? Did you just call him boy? Are you some racist motherfucker? One a’ them white power bitches?”
“I think he is, Bee,” Hobby said. “I think he’s one a’ them thinks he’s better than the black man. Is that right, Preacher?”
The Reverend looked ready to say something, but he didn’t get the chance. Hobby raised his gun and brought the barrel down, hard, on the Reverend’s already bleeding nose. The crack of bone snapping echoed off the walls, and I involuntarily winced.
He dropped on the floor, blood gushing. His hands didn’t go to his face this time. He just lay there moaning and I couldn’t help it, I wanted to go to him. But I didn’t.
Hobby kicked him once, in the side, then turned his attention to Tassie, who stood unmoving near the far cot. Her face looked intent, not panicking, not freaking out. Superhumanly attentive, as if she might spot a way to escape if she just paid close enough attention.
“So, there you are. Tassie Hunter. Terrible Tassie.”
I had it together enough to think, oh, her last name is Hunter, I didn’t know that. The fact that they were paying attention to her now sent a shiver of panic through me and I said, “Leave her alone. I’m the one that killed your thugs.”
Hobby looked at me and said, “True dat. But the bitch here’s the one that put it all together. She’s the one who planned the hit. And it ain’t like we don’t know her. Right, Tassie Hunter?”
Tassie’s eyes darted to me, and then back to Hobby.
Hobby said, “This little bitch got a name. She’s what you call, infamous, right?”
Tassie’s fists were clenched. I could see them shaking, even as she gritted her teeth and said, “Okay, fine. You found me. You gonna kill me now, or just pose with your big gun for a while? I ask, you know, cuz I don’t have all day.”
I took a step toward Hobby. He didn’t swing his gun around to cover me; he just cocked back the hammer and kept it leveled at Tassie. “I ain’t in a hurry. But you wanna see her brains splattered, dog, you just take another step toward me.”