Home Fires Page 8

  “They were all looking at us. Did you notice that, too?”

  Skip nodded.

  A new woman seated not far from them began to howl, a wordless, animal sound.

  Chelle leaned forward. “Will the dead come, Achille?”

  “Many come, lady. Many dead.”

  A third drum joined in with an excited tapping; and Skip, following the gaze of others, saw the wire-wrapped gate swing open.

  The woman who entered walked stiffly. Her unblinking stare focused nowhere, on nothing.

  The woman on the chair ceased shouting to issue an abrupt command.

  The newcomer’s mouth closed.

  “We used to hold the whole of Johanna,” Chelle said. “The Os drove us off most of it. Then our Navy shot up their fleet, and we started driving them back. That was when I got there. Reinforcements, you know.” Chelle’s tone was almost conversational.

  A woman on the farther side of the enclosure screamed, “Ottilie!”

  Slowly, the newcomer turned toward her.

  “We kept driving them back and driving them back,” Chelle continued. “We retook a lot of positions that had been lost the year before.”

  A man had shuffled through the open gate, a man whose empty face seemed little more than skin stretched across a skull.

  “Our people tried to take our dead with them when they pulled out, but a lot got left. They were buried, mostly, when their trenches and blockhouses were knocked down. I didn’t have to help dig the fucking corpses up, thank God, but I was around when it was done.”

  “I see,” Skip said.

  “So I saw them, and they smelled like—”

  “There you are!” Vanessa had stepped through the gate. She smiled and waved. “What in the world are you two doing here?”

  Chelle gaped.

  Skip motioned to Vanessa, and the crowd parted for her like water, people scrambling to their feet or scuttling across the stone floor.

  Smiling, she crouched before them. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you two.”

  Skip said, “How did you find us?”

  “I met a local woman, that’s all. She told me to go to the other side of the mountain and follow the sound of the drums, so I did. The gate was open and I came right in.”

  * * *

  When the ceremony was over, Achille led them to a small, dark house. “Mambo come soon,” he promised.

  “We’re going to miss the launch,” Vanessa remarked. She did not sound unhappy about it.

  “We already have.” Skip glanced at his watch. “It’s one fifteen.”

  “Then there’s no point in hurrying.”

  Chelle said, “They were dead. Those people you came in with.”

  “Were they, darling? I didn’t notice.”

  Skip shook his head. “I know they looked dead, and they smelled dead, too. But I won’t believe anybody can make the dead walk again.”

  “Mambo make dead rise, mon. She wants, they come. Kill you, mon. Anything she say.”

  Chelle looked around nervously. “You called her Tante Élise before.”

  “Is her name. She Mambo.”

  “Like I’m a mastergunner?”

  Skip said, “More or less, I believe. My guess is that is means Reverend.”

  The door of the dark house opened behind him as he spoke. The tall woman who led the dance gestured, and Achille trotted inside. Vanessa followed him quite nonchalantly.

  “Are you going in?” Chelle sounded resolute.

  “We’ve come all this way to see her—and missed the Rani, I’m afraid.”

  Vanessa glanced back at them. “No, no! They won’t actually sail until high tide.”

  “And that is…?”

  “About eight o’clock. It’s just that the launches don’t run after midnight. We can find a boat and hire it.”

  Chelle muttered something, and Vanessa added, “Trust your mother.”

  A candle, short but very thick, kindled in the middle of the room. It was followed by two more on a tiny mantel. Nothing and no one had lit them, so far as Skip could tell. The large woman Achille called Tante Élise held out her hand.

  “You give money,” Achille instructed them. “You no give, she no speak.”

  Chelle opened her purse. “How much?”

  “Money, lady!” He sounded angry. “You know money? Give money! Some you got.”

  “She must be a lawyer.” Chelle dropped five noras into the outstretched hand.

  The tall woman closed it without glancing at the bills. “What is it you wish?”

  “I’ve come to buy a handgun. This man says you sell them. I want one, and I’ll pay you well for a good one.”

  “Will you carry it?”

  Chelle nodded.

  “Where?”

  “That will depend on the gun.”

  For a moment, it seemed that the tall woman might smile. “You can shoot?”

  “Hell, yes.”

  “I didn’t have to pay her at all,” Vanessa whispered. “She just came up to me.”

  Skip pretended he had not heard.

  “You buy for this man.”

  Chelle shook her head. “For me.”

  “I will show you three. You may choose. If you do not choose, three more. If you do not choose, you must go.”

  “I understand.”

  The tall woman turned and left, moving as soundlessly as any cat.

  Vanessa said, “She’s really quite kind.”

  Skip chuckled. “Let’s hope you’re a good judge of character.”

  Chelle said, “I trust her. I don’t like her, but I trust her. That’s odd, isn’t it?”

  “Not really. She has dignity, and people who have it keep their word for the most part.”

  “Like you.”

  He shook his head. “Hardly.”

  The tall woman returned and handed Chelle a gun. It was of bright metal. One grip was pearl, the other of some dark wood.

  Chelle shook it, pulled back the slide, and handed it back. “This was a good one once, but it’s fired a hell of a lot of rounds. I’d like to see it rebuilt, but I can’t rebuild it with what I’ve got here.”

  The tall woman nodded. “This is not so dear.”

  It was a revolver. Chelle cocked the hammer and tried to move the cylinder. “It’s good,” she said, “but only six shots. Let me see something else.”

  The tall woman nodded approvingly. “We are seven here.” The third gun was dark and dull, and almost impossibly narrow; Skip saw Chelle’s eyes widen.

  “It is this that you wish,” the tall woman said.

  “You’re right. All right if I call you Tante Élise?”

  The tall woman nodded again.

  “I’ll buy it if I have enough money, Tante Élise. How much?”

  “And a hundred rounds of ammunition?”

  Chelle nodded.

  “We must see.” The tall woman beckoned to Achille. “Take that candle. We go out. Light our way.”

  Achille did, grasping the thick candle by digging the points of his hooks into the wax; he looked more frightened than ever.

  “Is that loaded?” Skip asked.

  Chelle said, “The chamber indicator says so.”

  “Stop here,” the tall woman told them. She pointed to Achille. “Walk forward until another prevents you.”

  Chelle said, “You can speak your language to him if you want. I’m sure he’ll understand you better.”

  The tall woman did not reply.

  Skip watched Achille’s advance. He moved cautiously, clearly hoping he would be told to halt. The flame of his candle flickered and twice seemed ready to go out, though Skip felt no breath of wind.

  Suddenly the candlelight showed a dark figure with arms outstretched to bar Achille’s way.

  “Give him the candle,” the tall woman said. “Turn to look at us. Stand straight. Stand still. Will you move?”

  Achille shook his head violently.

  “Do not move your head. Do not
speak.”

  The dark figure behind him placed the short, thick candle upon Achille’s head and held it there.

  “If you wish the gun you hold,” the tall woman told Chelle, “you must shoot out the flame.”

  Almost casually, the gun came up. Chelle’s grip tightened and she fired—long before Skip had expected it.

  The candle winked out and the tall woman said, “This gun is my gift to both of you.”

  “Thank you!” Chelle was smiling broadly. “Thank you very much! Now we have to buy a gun for my mother.”

  REFLECTION 5: The Ride Back

  The goats and sheep and hogs are still abroad, though the maiden and her bananas are no longer to be seen. Was she at the temple? I doubt it, but it is certainly possible. There were a great many people there shouting and jumping, forever standing up and sitting down. She may have been among them. She may have danced with us. Or not.

  The man who barred Achille’s way was dead. So Achille says, and I believe him—or at least, I believe that he believes he’s telling the truth. The dead man stood behind him, taller than he, to make him stand still. What fear had the dead man of Chelle’s bullet? He was already dead.

  Or at least, believed he was.

  Our headlights show us animals, first a dog in the road, then a goat. There is something Satanic about goats, and there was something very Satanic about this one, with its beard and S-shaped horns. How easy it would be to think the ceremony Satanic, though there was no invocation of Satan. Only strange but unforgotten African gods. There were holy cards in Tante Élise’s house.

  Can God hate people so cheerful in their poverty?

  Chelle, her head upon my lap, snores softly, stirs, and sleeps again. Achille is asleep in the front seat. From the jump seat, Vanessa stares out at the night in silence. Neither of us wish to wake Chelle. Certainly I do not.

  * * *

  Don, she whispers. Don … Then something else; I catch the word dead, but nothing more. Is Don dead? I hope so.

  She bought Vanessa a little automatic, a thing like a piece of jewelry. Silver-plated, I think, though it might be chrome. If I were to see it in sunlight I might be able to tell, or so I think. She said it was old but could not have fired more than two hundred rounds in all its many years. Vanessa fired it at a tree—seven shots.

  Seven of us were present, Tante Élise said. Chelle, Vanessa, Achille, Tante Élise herself, the dead man, and me. She must have counted our driver as well though he was asleep in his taxi, so far away that the shooting did not wake him.

  I will stop the driver when we reach the summit, but only if Chelle is awake.

  Vanessa went to this side of the mountain and followed the sound of the drums. Went how? Followed how? I would have assumed that the social director would remain aboard, as perhaps she did until Tante Élise came for her.

  Achille has his hundred noras. He will attach himself to us, if he can. And I will scrape him off, unless I find him useful.

  Of what use he might be once we leave this island, I cannot imagine.

  Vanessa leans back. Her eyes are closed. Does she sleep? I would be wise to sleep, perhaps, if I can. Will I drop Chelle … if I do?

  * * *

  Drums in my dreams. Drums and dancers? Was the ceremony a dream, too? The blood and the dying, gasping animals? Does Chelle have a gun, and Vanessa? Chelle’s will be in her purse, surely. It has fallen to the floor. When I try to reach it, she stirs. Do her eyelids flutter? It is too dark to see.

  At the summit, I will tell her I want to get out. My legs must rest from her weight for a while.

  And I want to look at the stars.

  6. STATEROOM ONE

  The Rani was gone. Fog or no fog, there could be no doubt of it. A smaller vessel might still have been in port, invisible behind the goblin curtains that had become its atmosphere; no fog could have hidden the Rani’s long white hull and towering masts in so small a harbor.

  Skip glanced at his watch. “You said they wouldn’t sail before eight. It’s seven thirty-five.”

  “They weren’t supposed to.” Vanessa was scanning the fishing boats.

  Chelle said, “They told you that, Mother?”

  “Yes. Absolutely. I was worried about the passengers who might be left behind. Captain Kain told me there’d be boatmen hanging around the docks offering to ferry people back, and he wouldn’t up anchor until high tide. So I wanted to know when that was, and he said eight o’clock.”

  Achille asked, “What you do, mon?”

  “Give chase,” Skip said. “They can’t have been gone long. If it weren’t for this mist, we might be able to see them. There are men working on that boat.” He pointed with his walking stick.

  “Yes, mon. I see.”

  “Run over there. Tell them we’ll pay them if they can get us to the Rani.”

  Achille dashed away.

  The boat was small, and smelled of fish twice as much as was to be expected. Chelle sprang aboard it without assistance; Skip climbed in more cautiously, and together they helped Vanessa aboard. Their crew of three raised worn brown sails spread wide by gaffs, after which the younger men manned sweeps while the owner took the tiller.

  Chelle’s hand found Skip’s. “What if we can’t catch them?”

  “We go to Hispaniola. There should be an airport there, and if we’re as lucky as five people can be, we may be able to charter a plane to fly us to the next port on the tour.”

  “Someone who can get that much fuel.…”

  “Exactly. Which is why we’ll need wonderful luck. It will cost a great deal, if we can do it at all. This boat won’t, so it’s worth a try.”

  Vanessa joined them. “There are only four of us, and the beggar won’t be boarding the Rani with us.”

  Chelle said, “Tante Élise said there were seven people there. Remember, Mother? I think she thought any gun—”

  Skip had his finger to his lips.

  “Well, you know. Anyway I thought about that, about seven, and the man who stopped Achille made six. We four, Tante Élise, and him. So there was somebody else.”

  Vanessa said, “Skip?”

  “I simply meant that we would need more luck than four could have.”

  The rowers shipped their sweeps as the sails filled. The owner shouted at them, and one climbed the foremast with an agility Skip could only envy.

  Vanessa was taking off her shoes. “They make it hard to balance,” she told Chelle.

  “You think he’s hiding something, don’t you?”

  “Surely not, darling.” Vanessa’s smile was angelic.

  The man at the masthead shouted and pointed, then slid down.

  “We catch,” Achille said. “Catch today, mon.”

  Chelle asked, “Will we, Skip?”

  “I think so. There isn’t a lot of wind, and it takes a pretty good wind to move a ship like the Rani fast.”

  From his place at the tiller, the owner nodded and grinned. “You sleep beeg boat.”

  Chelle went to the bow, where Skip soon joined her. “Am I intruding?”

  “I was hoping you’d come.” She put her arm through his. “I wanted to talk to you in private.”

  “What about?”

  “Lots of things. Can I start with the Army?”

  “Certainly,” Skip said.

  “I’m not going back.”

  He shrugged. “That’s your decision.”

  “I used to think so.” Chelle sighed. “When you wanted to go on the cruise I thought I could use the time to think things over.”

  Skip had seen what the lookout had seen: sails not yet over the horizon. He stared at them, saying nothing.

  “Last night—do you realize we haven’t slept?”

  “You dozed in the cab coming back,” Skip said. “So did I.”

  “That’s right, so you got a little sleep. Enough?”

  He shook his head.

  “I hardly got any. Mother slept, and Achille slept before either of you, and woke up last.
Only I didn’t mean that when I said last night. I meant the night when we screwed and slept together in our cabin.”

  “The screwing was Jerry. Not me.”

  “Yeah, right. I’m sorry. I forgot.”

  “Was he good?”

  “Not very. But before that, at the party. Do you remember me telling you that Mother had peeked in?”

  Skip nodded.

  “That wasn’t really it. Not quite. She came in and handed me a gram. I asked what it said, and she said she hadn’t read it. That was a lie but it was what she said, and she beat it before I could read it myself. It was from Camp Martinez and said I was being discharged. I told you I was taking psych tests.”

  He nodded again.

  “Well, I flunked them. I’m mentally and emotionally impaired. So discharge, and disability pay for the rest of my life.”

  When Skip did not speak, Chelle added, “It’s pretty good, too.”

  He put his arm around her. “I can imagine how you must feel.”

  “It isn’t that. I can handle my feelings. Now I can. I just wanted to tell you that was why I took Jerry to our cabin. I’d been planning to leave early and lock you out. That’s the truth.”

  “I believe you.”

  “But I got hammered instead. I grabbed the guy I had been talking to because he had a hand on my—up here. You know.”

  “I grasp the concept.”

  “You do now. Yes. It’s yours. Only then…”

  “It wasn’t,” Skip said.

  “Whatever. I wanted to explain, and I wanted to let you know I’m not right. Did you guess?”

  “My guesses don’t matter.” He took a deep breath. “I love you, Chelle. That’s what matters, and if you love me, that’s all that matters.”

  “I do. I really do. I know you don’t believe me, but it’s the truth. That’s the first thing I wanted to talk about.”

  He kissed her; and it lasted for a long, long time and ended too soon.

  “Now we’re going to fight again,” she said when they parted.

  “You may fight me, but I won’t fight you.”

  “Okay. Deal. Have you made it with Mother?”

  It took him by surprise. “Certainly not. Why do you ask?”

  “Because she wants you to. I can tell, Skip, and I think you can tell, too. What’s the number of her cabin?”