Expired (24 page)
Instantly the small hand was covered in a red, slippery substance. That was when it had happened. It was a tiny rushed explosion of separating microcosm, splitting off into different beings, an open vessel for the domination of spirits.
An open vessel for Legion.
The child could no longer emotionally inhabit this space where it had witnessed a man being beaten to death, tortured, and torn apart. No. It would leave this place for safer ground. Taking flight and journey into a different realm.
It was a realm the average human being would never cross. Along the line it would satisfy its saturation, hunger and lust for the red slippery substance. Blood.
Three days later when the remains of the man and the child who was still alive, were found the child sat happily slurping from a bottle of soured milk.
The child was a true orphan now because its mother had died a while ago from poverty and a broken heart. It was just as well because this child's existence would not be predicated on human emotions.
The scene the child had just experienced would mold and create its future. It was the last nail in a coffin that would cripple, as well as rule what would become a shell of a human being on the outside, and nothing but pure black malevolence salivating on the inside.
In the absence of spirit there would be only darkness.
That child had been Alonzo Morgan.
That man had been his daddy.
In the absence of spirit, there had been only darkness. The name of that darkness was Legion.
Michael and Dre ran to Tracie as police helicopters, sirens, and a host of riot vehicles descended on the area.
Me waved his hand, putting a block on the helicopters' view of them on the roof, and disappeared.
“Come on, Mommy,” Dre told her. “We've got to get out of here.”
“Why?” Tracie asked. “It's over.”
Souljah Boy stared sadly in her eyes. “No, Tracie. It's only just beginning. Lonzo was only a small piece. Dre and Michael are still in danger. The danger to you and your sons is much greater than Lonzo. You must go.”
“Where?”
“Follow me.”
Tracie had known deep in her soul that it wasn't done. The dreams and visions would not be vanquished.
Besides, Renee Santiago had fed her an incredible story, one that she couldn't ignore. It had come straight from the day's headlines.
But she had hoped, after confronting Lonzo, that she was wrong . . . that this was it. But it wasn't. It was far from over. And her remaining sons might be in even greater danger than the two who had been killed, as Souljah Boy had said.
Tracie was learning that there were some fates worse than deathâsuch as the pain and affliction of Alonzo Morgan's life.
She now knew she would have to go to war on a different level and on a different ground in order to preserve that which must be preserved.
Unknowingly she'd been preparing ever since she'd seen all those little black babies sailing through the air.
As Tracie Burlingame prepared to leave, the old preacher in sackcloth and ashes continued to pray.
He would soon be coming up on the third day.
48
R
ashod had finally broken through the barrier and walls of separation. Although the walls were invisible, the barriers and blockages contained within them were like steel. Breaking through them had been a most difficult task.
ashod had finally broken through the barrier and walls of separation. Although the walls were invisible, the barriers and blockages contained within them were like steel. Breaking through them had been a most difficult task.
Finally he had prevailed and reached Ms. Virginia. He had discovered that many, many others were there, too, contained within the different walls.
Many of the sequestered spirits had names he had read about in history books or had been taught about in schools. Some of the most famous names in African-American history were residing in this spiritual prison.
There were also new spirits that had been recently added. They were in quite a state. There was a lot of crying and wailing and fear among them. They didn't know what was going on. They were scared.
Some of them he recognized, since they were all from his stomping grounds in Harlem. Rashod wondered why they'd all come from the same place so recently. He knew it was somehow connected with Me's plan. He just needed to understand what that plan was.
If he could understand, then maybe he could defuse the demon. For the time being he focused on Ms. Virginia, because he believed that between the two of them they might find some answers.
Besides, she was a real smart old lady, and Rashod had grown into a new respect for her as he had watched her stroke Me to keep him calm and to keep him from hurting the others. Me had actually come to gain comfort from the old woman.
It was as though he thought a demon could have a grandmother, or something. The big, bald monster was really a complicated piece of work as far as Rashod could tell.
Right now Me was curled up in the dark of the closet, surrounded by raw meat. He was in a state of rest, which worked out just fine for Rashod, because that meant he could talk to Ms. Virginia without interruption. He wouldn't have to be on high alert.
He had finally grown to the level of bypassing Me, but it wasn't easy. It took intense levels of focus and concentration. He had had to learn how to block Me's sensors in order to accomplish the feat.
For right now things were in a relaxed state. He and Ms. Virginia needed to figure out something because time was running out. Me was resting up for the next event. That event included his mother.
Rashod had seen her again in Me's thoughts after the incident on the roof, when she had held her ground with Lonzo and then escaped with Souljah Boy before the police could detain her. He had wanted to reach out to Michael once again, but it was too risky at the time, and besides, they were safe for the moment.
But he didn't know for how long, and he knew for a fact that Lonzo wasn't the only enemy.
Me had been called to some foreign place that Rashod didn't recognize, and he was terrified. He had bowed before the power and trembled in his shoes. That meant big trouble because Rashod knew that this big, bald gobbler was afraid of nothing. He was fear itself, so for something to scare him, it had to be awesome. Rashod needed to know what it was.
Someone sneezed, and Ms. Virginia said, “There, there, child,” as she patted the head of Shelly, smoothing the soft, thick black ponytail. Shelly was very young and very vulnerable. She rarely ever spoke, but she sneezed at the oddest times. It was a symptom of her fear and nervousness. Ms. Virginia gave her a comforting stroke, and she settled down.
Shelly was the youngest of the group, seven years old. She had been a child prodigy. At the age of six she could do trigonometry and calculus and work most any scientific formula created by some of the top minds in the country.
Me had wanted her for his very own. He claimed her and swallowed her spirit whole. She was actually from the shores of Jersey. Newark. Her face was still on the cartons of milk for locating missing children.
Ms. Virginia adjusted her bifocals. She peered across at Rashod through the huge vacuum of space. “This is a mighty fine predicament we've got ourselves in, wouldn't you say?”
“Yeah. Check that. We've got to get ourselves out of it, Ms. Virginia.”
“How?”
“I don't know yet. But, there's gotta be a way.”
“Rashod,” Ms. Virginia said.
“Yes, ma'am?” Ms. Virginia was one of the few adults Rashod had always shown respect to.
“We're dead, you know.”
“I know. But I have a feeling we're not at our final destinations. It's like we're stuck in the in-between, or something. And since we can talk and see each other as we looked when we were alive, that must mean there's something we can do. I guess . . .” Rashod's voice trailed off.
Ms. Virginia thought for a moment. Rashod had always been a bright boy; he'd just never used it. Maybe it was his time to use it now, in this strange place.
“I reckon you're right, Rashod, so we'd best start figuring it out.”
“I've been wondering,” said Rashod. “Have you noticed that everyone here had something that was special about him or her? That they're all gifted in some kind of way? Well, except for me.”
“You stop that nonsense, boy. Ms. Virginia's not going to listen to that foolishness. You know me better than that. What do you mean, except you? You're just as gifted as the rest of them,” Ms. Virginia stated emphatically, hurt by Rashod's lack of self-esteem.
Rashod hung his head in shame. “No, I'm not. I'm just a crackhead. Well, I
was
a crackhead.”
was
a crackhead.”
“What you were, Rashod, was a brilliant, gifted young man, especially with those sketches, who was a bit misguided. Or maybe you just couldn't handle what you knew. Some of the most talented people I've ever known or heard of were drug-addicted. Sometimes I just think they're scared of those gifts and the things they know, so they run, and they run hard. You sure figured out how to break through these barriers. As far as I can see, you were the first one who did.”
A smile lit up Rashod's face.
It reached his eyes. Ms. Virginia was the first person he'd known who understood. He was scared. He'd been scared of what he'd seen in people, scared of what he might achieve and how he might be perceived. Scared of competing with his brothers and their talents, so instead he had run away.
Hearing it put so plainly restored something to him that he had been missing for a long time.
Unwilling to let Rashod ruminate too long, Ms. Virginia said, “So what's your question? I know you've got someâI can feel itâand we'd best be moving 'fore Me wakes up.”
Rashod cleared his throat. “Well, it's like I was saying, Ms. Virginia; all the people here, well, all of us seem to have some special quality that attracted Me. When he killed the guard at the Schomberg Center, he didn't swallow his spirit.
“When he went to visit Whiskey, he didn't kill him or swallow his spirit, either. You remember Whiskey, right?”
“Uh-huh,” Ms. Virginia said without further comment.
“Ms. Virginia, what I'm trying to say is, all the spirits that Me possesses are of an elite class of African-Americans. The man has swallowed our gifts and our histories.”
With those words Rashod triggered the unholy sight of Me, swallowing the words from all the books in Ms. Virginia's store, save one. Why hadn't she noticed that before? Save one?
Ms. Virginia leaned forward, her scholarly mind working overtime and her presence suddenly rejuvenated with an excitement beyond measure. “That's it, Rashod.”
“What's it?” Rashod asked, puzzled.
“That's the answer. Oh, my God.”
“What's the answer, Ms. Virginia?”
Ms. Virginia had turned inward almost as though Rashod weren't there. He practically had to pull her back to their realm.
She started and then shared with Rashod what she was thinking. “Me swallowed all the words from all the books in my store. He swallowed every word in every book, save one. All that was left were pictures or illustrations, nothing else.”
“The only book he couldn't touch was the Bible. It was the only book left in the store that wasn't defiled.”
The implication and dawning reality of what she had witnessed stunned Ms. Virginia. Me and whoever else he's involved with is trying to cover a secret, a trail.”
Ms. Virginia wasn't as strong in the spirit as Rashod, so she had not witnessed all that Me had done, as Rashod had. So she asked, “Did you say he did the same thing at the Schomberg Center?”
“He did that and more. He swallowed all the words on all the rare manuscripts, documents, and histories. All the rare archives, Ms. Virginia. And there was another thing he did.”
“What?”
He melted the pictures of all the authors that were hanging on the walls. He hated them, Ms. Virginia. His hatred was so strong, it rocked this vacuum. You must have felt it. He melted their images right off the canvases. Then he swallowed their names, dates of birth, and deaths, as though he wanted to erase them from history.”
Ms. Virginia let out a shocked gasp.
“That's it, Rashod. Don't you see? Throughout time each of those authors and those books must have been exposing him in some wayâbits and pieces, maybe, about his identity.”
Ms. Virginia took a long breath before continuing, “Some of those books are biographies, about great people who have been assassinated in our time. Who would want to assassinate or kill people who were bringing the truth? In the beginning was the word, and the word was God. Words are a powerful thing. The authorsâhe must equate them as having some kind of power over him.”
She paused.
“The power to reveal his identity. Maybe in a way that people would really understand. Maybe there's
one
who has the power to reveal his plan and pull the covers off his actions. Maybe they have the power to give the people recognition to see him. To see him when they didn't know that they were.”
one
who has the power to reveal his plan and pull the covers off his actions. Maybe they have the power to give the people recognition to see him. To see him when they didn't know that they were.”
Ms. Virginia halted to think. Rashod didn't move. For a time it was silent. Rashod knew she was onto something. He waited patiently.
It was all coming together for Ms. Virginia. “He's been swallowing the gifts because the generations have been failing to honor God with their gifts, which left him an open door to go after them.”
“What do you mean, Ms. Virginia?” Rashod said.
“When the people misuse their gifts, Rashod, they're in danger of losing the blessing that goes along with them. God is deserving of honor and glory. He hates sin. Now, I know you're young, but you see and hear the movies, the stories, and the music.
“Some of it is the narrow road to destruction, particularly for our people. We all haven't been honoring God with our gifts. In many ways we've been glorifying Satan. Worshiping the material things of this world, not respecting things of the spirit. We only respect what we can see, feel, and touch.”
Rashod's eyes grew as big as saucers, for he had many a memory of what Ms. Virginia had just said, and he was only nineteen years old.
“And so,” Rashod picked up where Ms. Virginia left off, “the only book he hasn't been able to touch is the one that's holy. The Bible. It's the only book that was written and inspired by holiness itself. Jack, Ms. Virginia. So, if the writers throughout time have been revealing bits and pieces of him, but we are a people out of grace, then that means . . . Ms. Virginia, if he's able to do this, then he must be . . . he must be . . .” Rashod's voice trailed off.
“He's the beast, Rashod, under direct orders from Satan. That means if we're here, we're in big trouble.” Ms. Virginia's bifocals misted over.
Rashod put a hand over hers. “Maybe not, Ms. Virginia. I ain't no religious student or nothing. But I know that time after time throughout the history of the Bible, God has always come back again and again to save his people, no matter how many times they've fallen out of grace. Right?”
Ms. Virginia sniffed. “Yes, that's right, son.”
“Jesus Christ was descended from the house of David. Ain't that right, Ms. Virginia? And he was the savior.”
“Yes, that's right.” Even through her fear Ms. Virginia was proud of Rashod. She'd always known there was something special and smart about him. Now she was discovering he was brave, too.
“Maybe there's another plan in effect. Maybe we don't know all the pieces yet. Satan doesn't have the power to totally destroy the Lord's people,” Rashod said with hot conviction.
“Perhaps Jesus will save us from this place. Look.”
Rashod pulled out the tiny black charcoal scroll he had scooped up from the broken head of Othello in the Schomberg Center. The paper was old, crackled, and parched. Slowly he rolled it open.
Engraved inside was a miniature cross. It was stained with what looked like dark blackish-red blood that was centuries old.
“I found this in Othello's head, when Me cut it off in the Schomberg Center. Me never even saw it, Ms. Virginia.”
Other books
Handsome Brute: The True Story of a Ladykiller by O'Connor, Sean
Heatstroke (extended version) by Taylor V. Donovan
Cities in Flight by James Blish
Taft 2012 by Jason Heller
Critical Mass by David Hagberg
Forest Ghost by Graham Masterton
Body and Soul: Short Story by Barbara Gowdy
The Exception to the Rule by Rinyu, Beth
Scourge of the Betrayer by Jeff Salyards
