Antebellum (32 page)

And then, just as soon as she was there, she turned her face away from me, got up, and left the hut.

“Aunt...Aunt Sarah...?”

It was as if she never heard me.

I turned to Roka for some sort of explanation, but his face was riddled with confusion. He had just heard a riddle from me that he couldn't figure out. He stared at me hard as he tried to decipher what I had said.

Unconsciously, I turned my head from Roka and back toward the door that Aunt Sarah had walked through. Before I knew what had happened, I'd come face to face with Reverend Lewis.

His grin was the ugliest thing I'd ever seen.

I cried out and turned my head away, as if his gaze would turn me to stone. He couldn't have cared less. He stood up from my bed, still grinning, and shook his head in disbelief.

“Jesus Christ in heaven—thank you for your blessings! I can't believe what I've found! A nigger from the future! I swear I didn't believe it—” he turned and looked at me “—until you spoke! You sound just like what I imagine a nigger from the future would sound like! It's amazing!”

Reverend Lewis' words were like a lightning bolt, and I began to understand why Aunt Sarah hated me now.

Reverend Lewis picked up his coat and hat and gleefully put
them on. When he was all set to leave, he turned around and looked at me again. He was still pleased, but seriousness coated his voice.

“Listen here, you belong to me now. You understand? I'm going to talk to Talbert right now. He won't be able to refuse. You get yourself ready to go traveling, nigger. I'm taking you back up north with me.”

“You sayin' it wrong, sir.”

I didn't know what I was doing. Roka looked at me as if I had given a death threat. I still couldn't lift my gaze from the floor, but I spoke desperately. The desire for redemption, no matter what form it took, was too strong for me to ignore.

Reverend Lewis' face went blank, and then the red began to come back to his cheeks. I could hear the tremble in his voice.

“What?”

“You...you sayin'...it wrong...sir. My name's Da Nig...Da Nig...”

I couldn't get the name out. My mouth refused to release it. And there was only one other name I could think of. “My name's Moses, sir.”

I knew what was coming. Quickly, I turned to Roka, looked him dead in the eye, and shook my head.

“No...”

That was the only word I could get out before Reverend Lewis' boot came down across my face without warning. Unable to cover my mouth and nose, I fell back onto the bed and let the blood gush from my face. Reverend Lewis dove quickly on top of me and wrapped his hands around my throat. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Roka twitch, and I gagged out one word before Reverend Lewis' hands cut my air off completely.

“No...!”

I began suffocating.

“You listen good, you dumb nigger...I don't give a damn what your name is! You ever talk to me like that again and I'll burn you alive myself! You think you're something special because of where you come from? A nigger's a nigger! You proved that just now. It doesn't matter how far you go in the future, a nigger will always be a nigger!”

He let go of my throat and sat on top of me as I coughed and choked. He cocked back his hand to hit me again, but a large commotion started outside of the hut. Horse hooves and men's voices filled the air, and Reverend Lewis jumped off of me to see what was happening. Roka, fearing the worst, immediately picked me up and carried me to the back shadows of the room.

Reverend Lewis stepped outside to a mob of about fifteen white men. Each one of them had probably endured a hard days' work and smelled of the slaves they had beaten in the daylight hours. I managed to raise myself and look out the window as best I could. The night sky was lit up by their torches, and the thick rope wrapped around Bradley's arm seemed to catch the light and shine brightly. The overseer led the pack with a determined countenance, and as soon as he saw Reverend Lewis, he lowered the barrel of his rifle.

The fourteen men behind him went quiet, and the silence seemed to last an eternity before one of the men in the mob yelled out to break it.

“We s'posed to be killin' that nigger, Bradley! Why you got the gun aimed at the Reverend?”

“Shut up!” Bradley called back behind him, and the man shut his mouth.

“I come for my nigger,” Bradley said matter-of-factly.

“He's my nigger now,” Reverend Lewis replied just as assuredly.

“Either I takes 'im with me or we hangs 'im tonight, but you ain't gettin' 'im. I kill you where you stand before I let that happen.”

“You can't shoot me, Bradley. You can't shoot me because you know who I am, and you know who you are. One of these men behind you would probably shoot you before you even got in to grab the nigger. So why don't you put the gun down? We both know you aren't fooling anyone.”

“You can't shoot the Reveren,' Bradley!” another one of the men behind him called out.

“Shut up!”

Bradley kept the gun trained for another thirty seconds, and then raised the barrel and shot into the air. “Goddamn you!” he screamed out as he fired.

Reverend Lewis looked contently at Bradley, and waited for him to lower his gun completely before he spoke again.

“Now, here's what's going to happen,” the man of the cloth said, loud enough for the whole mob to hear. “None of you are going to lay a hand on that nigger in there. He belongs to me now.”

“Hell he does!” Bradley screamed out.

“Would you like to go and discuss the matter with Mr. Talbert? I have a feeling that after I make my offer, he'll see things my way.”

Bradley's head looked as if it was seconds away from exploding.

“Like I said,” Reverend Lewis continued, “he belongs to me now. He is not to be touched. I'm taking him back north with me just as soon as the next train leaves out.”

“Reverend,” another man from the mob said. “Hopes you don't much mind me askin', but why you so fond a this here nigger? We comes up here to kill 'im before he heal on up and destroy the whole town. We gots wives and chirren, and ain't nobody safe till that ape nigger's dead.”

The church leader spoke as if he was bored with the conversation. “I know all about your superstitions, gentlemen. I assure you they aren't true. Bradley here has been feeding you all lies. You want the real truth? The real truth is that my colleagues up north are worried about these niggers getting too much power if we end slavery—and what I've got in there is proof that no matter what, niggers will never be the kind of force that my colleagues worry about. It's just not in their genetics, nor will it ever be. It's impossible. And that nigger in there proves it. I don't imagine any of you know the political implications of proving that we can both civilize and industrialize our entire nation by ending slavery, and not worry about the niggers gaining unwanted power?”

The men in the mob turned and looked at each other for a translation of what had just been said. When no one said anything, Reverend Lewis nodded his head.

“That's what I thought. Bradley, I'm on my way to see Talbert. If anything happens to that nigger, I'll see to it that you are hung with the same rope you have around your shoulders. Good evening, gentlemen.”

Reverend Lewis tipped his hat at the mob, and walked away whistling. The high-pitched noise echoed off of the trees even after he was out of sight.

Fifteen men sat on their horses out in front of Aunt Sarah's hut, looking around trying to figure out what to do.

“It's up to you, Bradley,” the same one who had questioned Reverend Lewis said. “You got us out here. Whatcha want us to do?”

Bradley jumped down from his horse and ran up to the door of the hut. He stopped just short of knocking it in, and stood still in front of it as he tried to decide between his pride and his life.

“AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!”

Bradley let out a scream that seemed to shake the ground. Then, slowly, he turned back to the mob of men he had brought with him.

“Y'all go on home,” he said with defeat in his tone. “Jus' go on home.”

One by one, the men directed their horses away from Aunt Sarah's place, and rode off into the moonlight. Bradley was the last to leave. His horse trotted slowly as its rider swallowed his humiliation once again.

Roka and I heard everything, and the knowledge that a group of men had come to kill me settled itself into my bones. I didn't know if I'd ever sleep again.

Minutes passed after Bradley's horse left, and I assumed that I was safe for now. Just as Roka started to take me back over to the bed, the door to the hut flew open again. He dropped me down to the floor and stood in front of me, trying to protect me from whatever it was that had invaded the space.

This is it,
I thought to myself.
They've come back to kill me. This is it.

A figure stopped in front of Roka. It held a tiny candle, and used it to light a larger one that illuminated the room.

“Auntie Sarah say da white folks is gone. Says y'all come over to da cabin now.”

I looked at the face in front of me and stopped blinking.

“SaTia...?”

I moved my right shoulder enough to loosen the tie on the sling, and used the free fingers from my left hand to pull it completely off. The pain was harsh, but unimportant, and Roka stood amazed as I reached out to her with my formerly incapacitated hand, letting it float in eternity.

12

S
he hadn't changed much. She still had the same beautiful brown skin, absent the artificial glow of makeup and moisturizers. The dirt on her face seemed to have scrubbed all her pretenses away. She stood in front of me pure, like a kindergartener in a grown woman's body. As she always did, if there was something serious going, she pressed her lips together.

Her dreads were gone; her hair hung in five different braids, and her roots were overgrown and exposed. In the world we had come from, she would've been mercilessly ridiculed. She would've been talked about because of her nappy hair. But staring at her now, with her fat braids and her thick cotton dress, her calloused hands wringing each other in nervousness, I was staring at perfection.

Roka bent down and picked me up again, and carried me about an eighth of a mile to a cabin that seemed to appear out of the darkness. I was afraid of turning away from my queen and returning my gaze to find that she was actually someone else, so I kept my eyes glued on her the entire journey. I cried out to Roka whenever he lagged too far behind her. Each time he took six or seven bounding steps and caught up to her. He was breathing heavily when we reached the cabin. Whatever he sensed in the air he had decided to take seriously.

Walking into the cabin, I assumed no one was in it. We followed
SaTia up the few steps and into a completely dark and quiet space. Yet, when SaTia gave the signal, three or four candles were lit simultaneously, and I realized we weren't alone after all. There were nine people in the cabin. Aunt Sarah sat on the opposite end of the room, and judging by her countenance, she was still unprepared to speak to me. SaTia walked over and sat down beside her, whispered something in her ear. Roka sat me down on the bed nearest to him and took a seat beside me. There were five other men in the room that I did not know, and after Roka gathered his wits, he stood again and pointed to each of them.

“That Sam,” he said, pointing to the man closest to us. Sam nodded his head. “Tom, Law, Buck, Fred,” he continued, pointing to the rest of the men. “All in field. This work cabin.”

I nodded, understanding at once the odors and weariness that permeated this place. This was a cabin for the field slaves, and the men I'd just met were worked from sunup until sundown picking cotton for Master Talbert. Yet, I couldn't evoke the empathy that I should. My eyes and heart were fastened on SaTia as she sat beside Aunt Sarah and tried to avoid my gaze. How did she get here? How long had she been here? Had anybody hurt her? That last thought caused me to squeeze my fist until my knuckles went white. If anyone had laid a hand on her, I'd kill them. Except here I was, broken, both legs and one of my arms useless until the splints and slings came off. In reality, if anyone tried to hurt SaTia, I wouldn't be able to do anything to stop them.

No! No, my mind couldn't grasp that. My heart wouldn't allow me to accept it. What good was I in any world, and especially this world, if I couldn't protect the woman I loved. An issue was settled in my mind before I was even conscious of the decision. I turned to Roka with a determination I was sure he had never seen from me before.

“Roka, let me outta these bandages,” I commanded. His face showed his shock. “Let me outta these bandages, man.”

I repeated my command—respectful, but serious as well. Roka continued to look at me strangely.

“No off.” He shook his head after processing my request. “Need more time.”

“Roka,” I said, looking him straight in the eye. “I need these bandages off.”

“But...”

He turned and looked to Aunt Sarah for help, but she was in conversation with SaTia. She didn't even notice Roka. He looked around at the other slaves, and they all stared back with baffled looks on their faces. None of them wanted to be the one to make the decision.

Roka exhaled deeply and looked back at me.

“Your breaks no heal good,” he warned.

“I got it, man. Now take these things off me.”

Hesitation broke over Roka's face as he walked up to me. Slowly, he reached up and grabbed the sling that my arm was wrapped in, untied it, and threw it to the floor. As I began to stretch my other arm out, he reached down and to my right leg. He began working at the rope that was tied so tightly to keep the wooden planks in place. I could already feel the pressure lessen as he finished untying the last knot, and all it took was a few rotations of undoing the rope for the makeshift cast to fall to the floor. I immediately felt a throbbing pain as I tried to bend my knee back so that my heel could touch the side of the bed. My joints felt like they were unthawing from a deep freeze. By the time I had bent my knee completely, I'd broken out in a sweat.