Emerald Hell

Chapter 5

The Charger roared down on one hell of an ugly sight that had suddenly appeared right there in the middle of the road.

Duffy Ferris rose up in his seat and let out a gruesome giggle. He couldn't help himself, murder was all he knew. He smiled broadly and stomped the pedal, aiming the center of the grille for the big red fella right there in front of him. The distance between them was chewed down to almost nothing, the fella's confused face and really big hand waving into the brights.

Lunging forward from the back seat, Brother Jester gripped the wheel from Duffy's hands and viciously tugged it aside. Deeter said, "Hey now, wha-?" as the three of them jounced wildly inside the car.

The suspension had been reinforced for hauling boxes of moonshine over mud fiats and down across the bottoms. Welded iron plating protected the undercarriage as the Charger slid across thick brush on the side of the track. The car veered to the farthest edge of the shoulder and nearly over the rim of a ditch, the rear right tire slewing and strewing gravel. They lost a hubcap and it took Duffy another moment to regain control of the car.

"Now what'd you go and do a fool thing like that for, Preacher?" he asked. "If we'd run him over you coulda at least ate him." He sought out the reverend in the rearview, but could see nothing but darkness behind him.

Jester's black angels surrounded him, whispering secrets of what had been and what might yet be. They hissed and he hissed, a new element added to his ruined voice. Maybe it was alarm or perhaps even fear. "Striking him would've only damaged your car, and I need to set out and find my daughter this night. Keep going."

"I ain't never seen that big ole boy 'round these parts before."

"Must be one of them swamp folk. He look like he drunk a jug or two of bad moon when he was a young'un."

Fading into the shadows that were not his own, Jester said,"He is fated to join my enemy and to become my enemy."

"Then why don't we pull over and take care of him?" Deeter asked.

"It's not the proper time."

"You gonna let us know when it is said proper time?"

"Oh yes, I surely will."

"Well, that's somethin' then. Where's she at? This daughter'a yours."

"She's pregnant and unwed, and alone for the moment."

"She ain't got no man?"

"She does, but he is not with her. She's alone."

"Mrs. Hoopkins's Home for Unwed Wayward Teenage Mothers & Peanut Farm," the Ferris boys said in unison.

The brothers knew where girls went when they had no family, money, or husband. In fact, they'd sent plenty of girls there themselves, and had a number of children littering the backwoods all over Enigma. Jester's shadows offered up names and faces that he swept aside with a turn of his head.

His mind filled with a single searing image-that of his daughter in her cradle, with her dead mother on the floor beside her in a pond of lapping blood.

"How far are we from this farm?" he asked.

"We nearly there," Duffy responded, still a touch angry about losing that hubcap. "You like peanuts?"

The Ferris boys and the dark preacher stood out on the front porch of Mrs. Hoopkins's place listening to the occasional sound of a crying child upstairs in the house. Mrs. Hoopkins smiled out her screen door at the Ferris brothers and said, "You handsome fellas here to visit any of your children?"

"Not right this evening, ma'am," Duffy told her, giving her a thousand-volt smile. It didn't quite work on her the way it did teenage girls, but the woman's stern features visibly softened.

"Well, what do you boys want here then?"

"Mrs. Hoopkins," Deeter said, "this here is Brother Jester, the' famous minister who's traveled all around the Appalachians for near two decades spreading the good word. He's come back to Enigma to visit relations."

She peered at Jester for a moment and said,"I know you?"

"No, dear lady," he said, because he always spoke the truth, and she did not know him. No one did anymore, perhaps not even himself. The man she'd seen decades ago praising the Almighty in tents out in the cane fields was long gone.

"Lord above, you had a doctor look down that throat a'yours?"

"I am beyond curing."

"Nothing beyond the healing power of our savior Jesus Christ."

Jester smiled, showing yellow shards of teeth. And thinking, Oh but some things are, they are. We who are trapped by the will of God and His greater plans, those of us who are not meant to be healed, but have a more tragic part to play. Like Cain, Judas, and Pilate, like Lucifer and his minions. Creations of a Lord gone mad. Playing out the damning roles given to them. Created by Heaven but with more than a small touch of Hell to them.

"I smell fresh pie?" Deeter asked.

"That briarberry?" Duffy said."Such a sweet aroma, my tongue done gone wet and wagging."

Mrs. Hoopkins showed her dentures and primped her pink hair with one hand, feeling the scarf still atop her head and untying it to let large looping curls flop loose like strands of baling wire. "You boys like a slice of pie and some milk?"

"We sure would," the Ferris brothers said in unison.

"You like a slice too, Reverend?"

"No,"Jester said,"thank you."

"You look as if you could use a good home-cooked meal. Let me fix you somethin'."

"My spirit is sated, and thus so is my body. My rage sustains me."

"Whassat?"

"He says," Duffy said, "his faith 'stains him."

"Oh."

She got out the pie and set down plates, took a large cutting knife and sliced the Ferris boys two pieces. Turning to the refrigerator, she found there was more than a quart of milk still left. She poured two large glasses of milk and set them before the brothers, enjoying the intensity, the near-savagery with which they ate. She didn't notice that her cutting blade was no longer on the table.

Mrs. Hoopkins asked, "So why you gentlemen come visitin' at this hour? It's near nine-thirty. My girls and their babies need their sleep. We got harvestin' on the morrow."

"My dear woman," Brother Jester said. "I have inquiries into the whereabouts of one of the young women in your care. Sarah."

Pulling a pink ringlet from out of her eyes, frowning a bit, she began to speak and then curbed herself. She cocked her head and heard the children upstairs, so many of them crying when they'd been soothed and sleeping just minutes ago. After a moment of peering deeply at the preacher she said, "There's four Sarahs here, which one you got iniquities about?"

Jester was suddenly startled by the fact that he did not know the name of the family that had raised her. Bliss Nail had hidden her from him. The shadows seemed upset and flowed about inside him, knowing a mistake had been made but unsure of what to do about it. They moved toward the old woman but her strength of mind and resolve seemed to step before them and block their passage to the truth.

"She is nineteen," Jester said.

"There's three Sarahs here that age."

"Then I'll see all three of them now."

"But you won't, it's nigh unto nine thirty-five, and in this house we rise early."

"I can certainly understand your trepidation, but-"

"I don't allow my girls to linger with strangers out here in my kitchen this deep in the night. You got questions, visit during regular hours, just after supper time. We'll be havin' fried bluegill and hushpuppies tomorrow, and you're welcome to share."

"Tater hushpuppies!" Deeter said. "Ain't had them in many a hot summer!"

Jester glowered at the interruption and faced Mrs. Hoopkins again. "I thank you for that, dear woman, but I beg you to make a special consideration for me, in this case."

"And why'm I gonna do that?"

"The circumstances are exceptional."

An infant began to shriek upstairs and Brother Jester's heart both soared and cracked at the sound. He saw the hatchet covered in blood again, and could feel the rope tightening around his throat. The angel of death embracing his body in its freezing arms. He started to tremble, the power rising within him.

In an instant, he began to cry black tears, the motes of energy sparking and floating from him. Mrs. Hoopkins nearly fell over in her chair and Duffy reached over and pressed a hand to her back, holding her in place. Jester started to grin, his teeth fiery, and said, "Because if we don't go outside right this minute and I don't get the information I want, I'll have to drag you upstairs and slay all the girls and their children until I find my daughter. Sarah. Who is pregnant and who is nineteen."

"Lord have mercy," Mrs. Hoopkins whimpered.

"He does," Brother Jester said, "but not for me, and not for you this night."

Ushered outside, Mrs. Hoopkins spoke quickly but with a quiet innate strength. Even now, with the Ferris boys bracketing her in the yard, the lights of the house seeming so far away, with her death at hand, she stood with bold assurance. The shadows could hear her prayers in the back of her mind. With Brother Jester's eyes searing into her heart, she showed no fear at all for herself, but only for the girls and children in her care.

Jester loved the woman as much as he was able, despite what would have to happen next. He wanted to hug her to him and preach words of solace, even kiss her brow. He began petitioning Heaven as he turned away, gesturing for Duffy to put an end to it now.

In Duffy's hand, raised high, was her cutting knife, the edge still covered with briarberry and crumbs. She didn't make a sound as Brother Jester, once again alive with his own death, fell to his knees and began to weep black flame.

After they buried Mrs. Hoopkins out in the peanut patch, Deeter asked, "So who is this big ole red boy anyway?"

"A creature of both light and darkness who chooses not to know himself," Jester said. "Like me."

They would have to go out into the swamps and revisit his past. Not only to regain his daughter, heavy with his grandchild, but also to face his newfound brother-enemy caught in the same web between Heaven, earth, and Hell. Perhaps, Jester thought, they might redeem themselves together.

He let out a mangled stream of laughter from his ruined throat, filled with sorrow and madness.

The Ferris boys looked at each other, cruel men with dried blood beneath their fingernails, doing their best not to tremble in the humid darkness, and failing.