Purgatorium (33 page)

Disoriented and scared, I open my eyes to see that I am back outside the tree. My arm is once again missing. Raphael walks me over forcefully and sits me down on the bench. I notice the
hourglass
necklace he was wearing before is now gone.

25 Minutes

“What do you know about purgatory?”
Raphael
demands.

I sit there in silence, showing him that I am still unable to speak.

“That’s what I thought!” Raphael barks at me. “Well, let me enlighten you. Purgatory, according to Roman Catholic belief, is a place where the souls of people are made pure through suffering. Now...inside that tree is every bad thing you have ever done in your life. You can’t find purification if you don’t understand your punishment. And you’re not ready to understand just yet. You need to learn how to protect yourself first. You feel me?”

I see the deer walk out of the trees into the open space near the statue.

“Hey! One armed Nancy! I’m talking to you!”

Raphael
takes out my pistol case and starts setting up the powder, the lead shots, and the ramrod. Looking at him carefully, and thinking about his erratic behavior, I wonder if
Raphael
really could be my demon. Remembering the pistol tucked into my pants, I reach behind my back and cock the hammer back.

Raphael turns to me as if he just heard my thoughts. He stares deep into my eyes and I pause. He must have heard everything that I was thinking. How could I be so careless?!

He mumbles a few words to himself that I can’t comprehend, then stares back at me. “Who went off script?!”

I sit there, stunned, not moving or thinking a single thought.

“Was it Gabriel or Michael? Did Judicial get drunk and skip ahead?! Tell me who did it?!”

Did what?

Raphael huffs and puffs. “Your demon! Who told you about your demon?! That was my day not anyone else’s. We only have a few days left till you officially push up daisies and they go off script!”

I look at him as if he was insane.

You told me.

Raphael looks almost confused at what I just thought. “You are getting to be a good liar. Your humanity is getting along faster than normal. Usually you won’t get into lying until the last day! That’s why one of the Angels told you! They must have thought you were ready. Still, they should have ran it by me first. That was gonna be my big reveal for today.”

Raphael looks almost sad saying it. He goes back to the pistol case, making loud noises from whatever he is doing with it.

The noises give me time to think, hoping the loud noise will block his train of mind reading my thoughts.

He must have either a split personality or that necklace has put a spell on him or….

He stops suddenly.

...demonic possession.

Raphael turns his head back to me. “You think I’m your demon because I’m black, right? Typical. Give me that pistol!”

Raphael reaches into my pocket and puts five lead bullets onto the bench between him and me. “Feel better now?”

Raphael
reaches into my pocket again and takes out some lead spoons. He looks behind him, stands up, and gathers some twigs, making them into a miniature teepee. Finding some larger fallen branches, he breaks them apart and builds a tiny log cabin structure around the tiny teepee. Finally, Raphael throws some twigs into the center, pulls a cigarette and matchbook out of his inner jacket pocket, lights the cigarette, and then uses it to light the twigs.

He and I sit together silently, watching the flames grow until all the wood is engulfed and coals are starting to form. Raphael takes the lead spoons and places them on top of a silver tray of metal with small molding bullet-shaped and sized indents. He places the tray on top of the coals. The spoons slowly begin to melt and gather in the indented molds.

“Might not kill a demon, but it can kill a soulless deer. You know, back in the Revolutionary War, the fastest soldier could fire six shots in one minute.”

I look back at the deer and wonder how it got here. Do deer have souls?

Now melted into the mold,
Raphael
picks up the tray by the handles and quickly places it on the bench between him and me. He waits for it to cool, turns it over, and taps it against the bench. Five balls fall out onto the bench. He lifts his hand toward me, waiting for me to give him the pistol. I don’t move, not trusting Raphael.

“Trust me or don’t trust me. I don’t give a crap,” says Raphael. He reaches around behind me and takes my pistol out. He knocks the end of it against my head.

“How were you going to shoot me without bullets? You jackass! Now, let me teach you something you already know but have once again forgotten. Gather your primer, black powder, ball, patch, flint, and ramrod. The patch should be made of linen or cotton. Load the flint into the cock. With the cock half-cocked, load the prescribed amount of black powder down the muzzle and tamp down. Wrap the ball in a patch and put in the muzzle. Tap down the powder and ball with the ramrod. Prime the flash pan with a small amount of the primer, usually less than a third of a pan.”

He finishes loading it. “Now, wasn’t that easy?” says Raphael. “Okay, not as easy as something more modern. But it was
your
weapon of choice. Life’s battles don’t always go to the strongest or fastest man. Sooner or later, the man who wins is the fellow who thinks he can. That’s the truth you need to embrace. What if I told you that the previous you was able to get off eight shots a minute? Practice, that was your secret. That and having your powder already made in packets. Your father was a big believer in the principle ‘practice makes perfect’ speech.”

I take the pistol. I look at the lion on its side.
Raphael
points to the deer. “Now shoot it.”

I look at the pistol and then at the deer. I hesitate.

“Now, when a brotha asks a strange white boy, you, to shoot at something, by God you better pull that trigga.”

I look at Raphael for a moment, then hold the pistol steady and aim.

“Well, what are you waiting for?”

I suddenly have a flashback. The field is full of snow. A deer is eating its way around a small patch of grass. The deer looks up as if it has heard something. It looks out into the woods and sees nothing but dead trees. My flintlock rifle is pointed out of what seems to be a small man-made bunker. I appear to be back in my youthful body again. I am holding my rifle, looking into the scope. Five deer are out in the field. I have my scope on a buck. My father is right beside me, looking out. I look over to him and notice that he is wearing the exact same poncho that Michael gave to me. It was my father’s.

“Did you load it correctly?” my father asks me for the fourth time.

Annoyed, I reply, “Yes, Dad. I’m pretty sure after the hundredth time of loading and reloading, I think I got it.”

“What have I been telling you?”

“That if I keep doing the same thing, practicing it over and over—”

My father interrupts, “…that it will soon become natural. Your great-granddad taught me that.”

“Please, Dad, don’t tell that story again.”

“Well, what are you waiting for?”

“I just don’t understand why we can’t use up-to-date rifles, Dad.”

“Like I said before, it’s a family tradition. Your first kill should be with this gun. Just like mine was and your grandfather’s. Now, go on.”

Nervous that I am going to miss and make him mad at me, I hold the gun unsteadily. As I press the trigger, the gun wobbles and I miss. My father sighs.

“Again! Shoot!” my father demands.

I look through the scope, take a breath, and find the buck in my sights again. The deer looks up, straight at me. I feel like the deer is staring deep into my soul. Suddenly, the deer drops his head and leaps off into the woods. My father yanks the rifle away from me and quickly looks through the end of the scope.

“Life’s battles don’t always go to the strongest or fastest man, but sooner or later the man who wins is the fellow who thinks he can,” my father says to me. I stand there, dejected and sad.

“Pull the trigger!” I am startled to hear Raphael’s voice again waking me from my flashback.

I look at Raphael, then at the deer in the clearing. I hold the pistol up, aim, and pull the trigger. “Crack!” The gun sounds and echoes in the park. The deer stumbles down onto its front knees, but then it vanishes. I look over at Raphael and then notice that my arm is back.

30 Minutes

“My brotha! My brotha! Now you’re getting it! Now give me that pistol before you shoot someone’s eye out.”

I hold on to the pistol, not trusting
Raphael
.
Raphael
grabs my arm, swings the hatchet down swiftly, cutting my arm off again. The arm and pistol hit the ground. My arm breaks apart like puzzle pieces, leaving the pistol on the ground.
Raphael
reaches down and picks it up. He puts on his sunglasses and turns, walking back toward the tree.

“Follow me,” he says.

I put everything from the mystery necklace to Raphael having a mental split personality breakdown to the back of my head. I can’t let him know anything until I am sure that he is not my demon. I must continue to act natural.

I follow behind Raphael, making sure he is in front of me at all times. He looks over to me and holds his hand out, stopping me where I stood. He waves me over and I slowly walk to him, almost afraid he heard what I was thinking again. He takes hold of my tie and yanks me to him. Fear overtakes me as he places his finger to his lips, telling me to be quiet. I kinda felt this was uncalled for since I couldn’t speak anyway. He turns his head over yonder to the oak tree as I do mine.

I see the little girl standing beside the tree again. She sees my face and her smile lights up. But when she sees
Raphael,
her smile turns to a look of sheer terror and she runs behind the tree. I look for her as I walk by the tree, but she seems to have vanished. Raphael has gone on far ahead of me so I quicken my pace to try to catch up with him. I feel a chill running through my veins.

By the time I reach the street my office light is on. I have lost sight of Raphael, but as I cross the street, I see him leaning against the front windows of my office building. He is smoking another cigarette. Seeing me, he puts it out and walks through the glass doors.

I stop, hesitating to go in.
Raphael
looks back at me, laughing at my disfigurement. I continue standing outside the door, angry, confused, not sure what to do or say. Raphael turns and continues on through the open elevator doors. I wait until they close, then enter the building and walk into another open elevator.

I head into my office and see
Raphael
has taken the other flintlock out from the glass case. He has laid out the hardware necessary to load the pistol on my desk and drops two lead balls next to the gun.

“The fastest time to reload is ten seconds. Your demon is fast. Ten seconds is all the time it needs to take that pistol and ram it up inside your mouth. If you want to get out of here, you are going to have to kill it, because your demon will never stop until it gets what you want: freedom.”

I sit down across from
Raphael
, who shows me how to load again. I copy Raphael’s actions, but much more slowly. I fumble and drop the flint.
Raphael
sighs and lights up a cigarette. He looks at me and raises his eyebrows, then starts loading a pistol.

“Have you ever played one-eyed jack? Pirates use to play it on their boats for sport. I already assume you haven’t, so here are the rules. Two men sit across from each other. They have two flintlocks and the tools to load their pistols. Whoever can load his pistol and shoot the man across from him first, wins. The fun behind the game was that back in the day, most flintlocks shot blanks. So, it didn’t matter how fast you could load. It only mattered how fast you could reload. It was a skillful game of the mind. Knowing that at any second you could die would put a lot of strain on your concentration, you see. It’s an interesting story—how the game got its name. All right, I’ll tell you. A pirate named Jack went up against a Confederate general and challenged him in the middle of the night in the general’s own house. The general was in bed ill at the time, so he couldn’t say no.”