Hazards (8 page)

“Well, if push had come to shove I’d have settled for ’em,” said Henry. “They don’t run so fast nor so far when they’re in a cage, and they sure can’t find much natural cover there.”

I could see right off that he was a natural-born sportsman who was put off his feed at the thought of littering the landscape with escaped animals what had been gutshot or worse, and I figgered if I could befriend him over the next couple of days I could maybe send him off to a zoo in Argentina or Brazil and try my hand at the god business myself.

“Anyway,” said Henry, “I was wandering the landscape looking for elephants without no success when I stumbled onto this place. I couldn’t see no one around, so I just followed the path right up to the temple, and I was so danged tired that I walked into it to get out of the sun and kind of catch my wind, and that stone altar in the middle of the place looked so inviting that I doffed most of my duds and lay down on it to take a little nap.” He shook his head in wonderment. “Next thing I knew there were twenty naked men kneeling down in front of me. At first I thought they were shooting craps, which is what’s usually going on when a bunch of Hackensack men get down on their knees, but then they saw I was awake and they began bowing and chanting. After awhile I asked one of ’em what it all meant, and he told me that I was clearly the god of prophecy that had been sent down to lead them to their former glory, and he started giving me my name and my titles. I know you thought I’d guv you a tongue twister when I introduced myself, but actually I got 38 more titles to go with the ones you heard. At first I thought reciting ’em all would charm the ladies, but the truth of the matter is that most of ’em fall asleep before I hit Number 20.”

“Speaking of the womenfolk, Brother Henry, just where are they all hiding?” I asked him.

“Oh, they’re off tilling fields and fetching water and toting firewood and other womanly duties like that,” he said. “All except for the priestesses, anyway.”

“And what about the men?”

“Mostly they’re worshipping me in private, and getting ready to go to war.”

“War?” I repeated. “You planning to attack two hundred thousand head of cattle?”

“No, we’re after the gauchos that herd the cattle,” he said. “Then I figure once we’ve won that little skirmish, we’ll drive the cattle all the way to Buenos Aires so we’ll have a little something to nibble on while we’re carrying out our war of conquest.”

“I like a man who thinks ahead,” I said. “I can tell we’re going to be great friends, Brother Henry.”

“Well, as long as you’re here, Reverend,” he said, his expres-sion softening a bit, “I might as well show you around my earthly kingdom.” He lowered his voice confidentially. “Truth of the matter is that I ain’t yet figured out where they’re hiding my heavenly kingdom.”

He headed off to the interior of the building, leaving all the menfolk behind, and I fell into step behind him.

“This here’s the Great Temple of Rakovekin,” he said. “I keep trying to get ’em to call it the Great Temple of Henry, but they’re a stubborn lot.”

I saw a bunch of half-naked women puttering around lighting candles and such, and I shot the closest of ’em a great big smile. “Them’s my Heavenly Handmaidens,” said Henry. “Each and every one of ’em a virgin.”

“Yeah?” I said.

“Well, except for them what ain’t,” he replied with a shrug.

I kind of winked at another of ’em, and she giggled and blushed, and I pretty much decided then and there that since food grew on trees and bushes and Heavenly Handmaidens only seemed to grow in Moo, I’d take a couple of ’em with me when I left and trust to the Lord that I could find food along the way.

“Over here,” said Henry, pointing to a big stone slab, “is the altar I fell asleep on that first day.”

I looked closer. It had a lot of bloodstains on it.

“I see you don’t believe in sacrificing turnips,” I noted, and he threw back his head and laughed.

“Rev,” he said, “I had a feeling the second I saw you that we was going to become friends.” He patted the stains lovingly. “No, these come from men who thought they could lay hands on the High Priestess.”

“You got a High Priest, too?”

“We did,” he said. He pointed to one of the stains. “I believe that’s what’s left of him.”

“She’s inviolate, huh?” I said.

“No,” he answered. “Last time I saw her she was in gold, such minimal duds as she was wearing. Mostly a crown, a couple of armbands, and some sandals, as I recall.”

“Sounds like she was dressed for mighty warm weather,” I said, “which I must admit we got a lot of in this here neck of the woods.”

“Just between you and me, it’s more like an armpit of the woods,” said Henry confidentially, “which is why I plan to pillage and plunder my way to Bahia.”

“I thunk you were making war on Buenos Aires,” I said.

“As long as it begins with a B and it’s got electricity and running water, makes no difference to me,” answered Henry.

“Getting back to your High Priestess, has she got a name?”

“Of course she has a name,” he said. “Why?”

“Truth to tell, Brother Henry, I got an affinity for gorgeous half-naked High Priestesses,” I said. “Some people like Ford roadsters, some people like fine Waterford crystal, but me, I like—”

“I get the point,” he said. “I may introduce you to her, but you have to understand up front that she belongs to me. If you touch her or make a play for her, it’ll bring all my heavenly wrath down on your head. That altar’s always got room for another bloodstain.”

“I don’t rightly hold with one human being owning another, Brother Henry,” I said severely. Personally, I figured taking out a short-term lease on the High Priestess was a different matter altogether, but I decided not to discuss the finer points of it with him at that particular moment.

“I fully agree, Reverend Jones,” he said.

“You do?”

“Absolutely,” he said. “No human being should ever own another.” Then he smiled and added, “Damned lucky for me that I’m a god and not a human being, ain’t it?”

I had to admit that I didn’t have no logical answer to that. In fact, I was just about to change the subject and maybe get him talking about the Brooklyn Dodgers or Equipoise or some other subject that was near and dear to folks what grew up near Hackensack, when my attention and my breath was both took by the most beautiful High Priestess anyone ever laid eyes on, and one look was enough to convince any red-blooded man or god that eyes were the very least of all the things he wanted to lay on her.

“Close your mouth, Reverend,” said Henry. “You never know what’ll fly into it in these here parts.”

She kept approaching me until she was just a couple of feet away, than stopped and smiled at me.

“Hello,” she said, extending a delicate hand. “My name is Valeria.”

“Miss Valeria, ma’am,” I said, “I just want to state for the record that in a lifetime of admiring half-naked High Priestesses and other delicate morsels of femininity, I ain’t never seen nothing to compare to your beauty, and if you’re ever in the need of a little nocturnal spiritual comfort, all you got to do is say the word and I’ll be there with bells on.”

She giggled. “Why would you wear bells?”

“You prefer feathers, just say the word,” I told her.

“That’s enough, Reverend,” said Henry. “Let’s not forget who’s the god and who’s the mortal here.”

“So you ain’t told her?” I said.

“Told her what?” he demanded.

“That any mortal what sleeps with a god will die of a hideously disfiguring disease,” I said as Valeria kind of gasped and took a couple of quick steps backward. “I thunk everyone knew that.”

“Valeria, honey, he’s just making that up!” said Henry.

I pulled my bible out of my pocket. “It’s all right here in the Book of Salome, Chapter 7, Verse 3.” (Actually, the Book of Salome ain’t got no Chapter 7 or Verse 3, but I had a soft spot for them because those were the numbers of the last Daily Double I hit at Saratoga just before I was gently requested to leave the country by a handful of gendarmes and politicians and other select authorities that didn’t have no sense of humor or proportion.)

“Let me see that!” said Henry, reaching for my bible.

I pulled it back, and shot Valeria a triumphant smile. “Think about it,” I said. “Would a
real
god have to look at the bible to remind himself of what it said?”

“But it didn’t say that at all!” shouted Henry.

“And now I suppose you’re gonna deny that you ever touched the last 200 women what died in these here parts,” I said.

“Valeria, baby, you ain’t going to listen to this intruder, are you?” said Henry, reaching out to her.

She jumped back out of reach. “Don’t touch me!” she cried.

“But Valeria, sweetie!” he said. Probably he was going to say more, but she turned and ran away before he could get the words out.

“You’re going to feel the brunt of my godly wrath for that, Lucifer Jones!” he vowed.

“Come on, Brother Henry,” I said. “I got you by two or three inches, maybe 20 pounds, and at least ten years. Let’s bury the hatchet, admit we both stumbled onto a happy situation here, and split the spoils. You can have everything to the left of the path that led up here, I’ll take everything to the right, you can have Valeria on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays (if you can convince her that she’ll survive being touched by you), I’ll take her to my side of the path on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays, and we’ll toss a coin for Sundays, provided you got any coins hidden in your loincloth.”

“I got a better idea,” he said.

“Yeah,” I replied. “What is it?”

“I think I’ll kill you and keep everything just the way it was.”

“You don’t scare me one bit,” I said. “You’re taking this god business a little too seriously, Brother Henry. You’re all alone in a strange land, wearing naught but a loincloth. Even Jesus had twelve disciples to do his bidding.”

“Conspicuous consumption,” he said. “I only need six disciples, and I got ’em all right here.” He reached into his loincloth and pulled out a snub-nosed revolver.

“You know, Brother Henry,” I said, “now that I come to mull on it, Valeria ain’t close to the most beautiful woman I ever seen. Her nose is too big, and her eyes are kind of crossed, and when she smiles I can see she’s missing a molar or two, and—”

“Shut up!” he screamed. “You’re talking about the woman I love!”

“Well, upon reconsideration, missing that molar makes her an exotic creature of mystery, and anyone who can look in two directions at once has got to be a definite value when you’re out hunting or maybe running for your lives from a bunch of outraged infidels, and—”

“Enough!” he said. He aimed the gun at me. “You got any last words?”

“Like I was saying, from the neck down, she’s just about perfect.”

“Stop talking about her!” he snapped. “You got any
other
last words?”

“Well, now that I come to think of it, I do have a question,” I said.

“Just one.”

“You got any dangerous snakes in these here parts?”

“All right,” he said, shaking his head in disgust. “I done my best, but you’re just not taking this seriously. Prepare to meet the Lord.”

“Not to be argumentative,” I said as he cocked the pistol, “but weren’t you claiming that
you
was God?”

“He’s my brother,” said Henry. “He’s minding the store while I’m busy here.”

His finger tightened on the trigger.

I kind of scrunched my eyes up so I wouldn’t see the bullet coming. The strange thing was that I didn’t hear it nor feel it neither.

“Shit!”
screamed Henry. “Get this thing off’n me!”

I opened my eyes and saw that Henry, who’d been wearing naught but a loincloth a few seconds earlier, was now wearing a wraparound anaconda what was maybe 25 feet long.

“Don’t just stare at me!” he yelled. “
Help
me!”

“I don’t mean no impertinence, Brother Henry,” I said, “but wasn’t you just preparing to shoot me before this here snake came to my rescue?”

“That was
then
!” he said kind of desperately. “This is
now
!”

“You’re still holding the gun,” I noted.

“He done paralyzed me with his fiendish venom! I can’t move my fingers!”

“Anacondas ain’t got no venom,” I said. “You’re thinking of rattlesnakes.”

“I’m thinking of being crushed to death!” cried Henry. “Help me!”

“Or maybe cobras,” I said. “I seem to remember that King Cobras are loaded with venom.” I stopped and scratched my head. “You know, now as I come to think on it, I don’t recollect that I ever saw a Queen Cobra. I wouldn’t know how to tell ’em apart anyway; I don’t imagine they can be much curvier.”

“I’m dying and you’re lecturing me on herpetology!”

“I ain’t so much lecturing as discussing,” I pointed out.

Suddenly the gun fell from his hand.

“Okay, I’m unarmed!” he said. “
Now
will you get this blasted critter off me?”

“Well,” I said, “it’d be an act of Christian charity, there ain’t no denying that.”

“Then do it!”

“On the other hand, it might well be an act of Christian suicide,” I said. “I got to think this over.”

“Don’t take more than about 20 seconds,” he groaned, “because I’m gonna be all out of air in less than half a minute!”

“What’s going on here?” said a feminine voice. For a moment I thunk maybe the snake’s wife was getting jealous, but then I saw it was Valeria, who’d come back when she heard Henry screaming.

“Get your damned pet off me!” wheezed Henry.

“I’ve warned you not to tease him!” she said harshly. Then she turned to me. “Was he abusing my snake?”

“Just the opposite, as near as I can tell,” I said.

Henry tried to agree with me, but though he moved his lips nothing came out.

“I certainly don’t want to take sides in this little dispute, ma’am,” I said, “especially since he was about to shoot me for saying how much I admired your rare and ethereal beauty, but he’s turning purple.”

“Oh, all right,” she said. “Bubbles, sit!”

The snake released Henry and coiled itself on the ground.