We are nearly there, D. Hold out your hand.
I do as I’m told and lift my arm up so that Nuru’s light will guide us through the darkness. “Nuru says we’re almost there.”
Nyla and Keem nod silently to let me know they’re ready to go on. I turn to Billy and see that he’s trembling. “Billy—are you OK?”
He stares at his hands and then points at me. “You…you…”
I put my hand on his shoulder and try my best to reassure him. “It’s all right, Billy—we’re safe. The nether beings can’t reach us now.”
Billy shakes his head but not because he doesn’t believe me. “You…touched me,” he says softly. Billy looks at me with tear-filled eyes and then stares down at his hands once more. Tears fall into his palms as he holds them out, transfixed. For the first time, I notice that the gray gloom has left his body. Billy glows with light that is pale, but warm. “I…I can feel again,” he says, amazed.
Keem steps up and holds out his hand. “We couldn’t do this before.”
Billy stares at Keem’s hand for several seconds, then reaches out and shakes it heartily. Billy’s excitement spreads, and we all start to laugh as Keem tries to teach him the homeboy handshake. Billy turns to Nyla next, but she doesn’t hold out her hand—Nyla opens her arms and folds Billy inside. Our laughter dies when we realize that Billy’s sobbing. Nyla doesn’t let go. Keem turns away and clears his throat. I wipe away my own tears with the back of my sleeve. It’s been three months since my mother wrapped me in her arms. I can’t even imagine waiting more than two hundred years for someone else to hug me. For just a moment, I think of Mrs. Martin and how it was between us before Mercy arrived. Nuru’s voice helps me push those thoughts aside.
We must not delay. Follow this tunnel to the Chamber of Souls.
“We’re almost there,” I tell my companions. Then I take a deep breath, banish all thoughts of the past, and say, “Let’s do this.”
There’s an eerie silence in this new tunnel. No sound penetrates the curved brick walls, and with each step forward, I feel as if I’m leaving reality behind. A moment ago we clung to a sleek, silver train—now we seem to be sliding into the past, leaving technology behind.
“That’s weird—my watch stopped. Anybody got the time?” asks Keem.
Billy and I shake our heads. Keem opens his mouth to say something else but sighs heavily instead. Nuru’s light burns bright above, but we all slow down as a heavy, invisible burden settles upon us.
Suddenly Nyla gasps and clamps a hand over her mouth. Tears squeeze out of her closed eyes and trickle down her cheek. Keem reaches her before I do. Without a word he slips his arm around her shoulder and helps her to keep moving forward.
Billy frowns and looks at me. “Do you feel it, too?”
I nod and look around the still, silent tunnel. “It’s like wading through a sea of grief.”
“What could have caused so much suffering?” asks Billy.
“We’re not far from Ground Zero,” Keem says quietly.
Nyla clears her throat and wipes her eyes. “Can you help these souls, D? They deserve to be at peace, too.”
“I don’t know,” I answer truthfully. “I hope so.” I glance back and see that Keem has removed his arm from Nyla’s shoulder. They’re holding hands instead.
We walk in silence for a long time. The sad feeling in the tunnel doesn’t disappear, but the hope in our hearts gives us the strength to go on. Then Billy points at something up ahead. “Look—we’ve reached the end.”
A brick wall chokes off the tunnel and stops us in our tracks. I shine Nuru’s light over the wall and notice that the rails don’t end—they seem to run right under the wall.
“They must have sealed off this old tunnel back when the trains went electric,” says Keem. “There’s no third rail down here.”
“These bricks do look old,” adds Nyla, running her fingers over the wall’s façade.
Nuru, I say in my mind. What do we do now?
But all Nuru says is, Proceed.
“We have to find a way to break through,” I tell my companions. “Any ideas?”
“Anybody got a sledgehammer?” asks Keem sarcastically.
“We might not need one,” says Nyla. “The mortar around these bricks is crumbling—some of them are already loose.”
We all join Nyla and run our hands over the bricks, looking for signs of decay. I’m the shortest, so I try the ones closest to the ground. I find one brick that already has a chipped corner. I pull my keys from my pocket and dig at the surrounding mortar until I can grab hold of the brick with my fingers. “I’ve got one!” I cry.
Since I’ve only got one free hand, I step back and hold the light up high while the others finish the job. Nyla uses her fingernails to get a grip on the loose brick and then jiggles it back and forth until it starts to slide out of place. “You’re going to owe me a manicure, D,” she says with a smile. “There—I did it!”
Nyla pulls the brick out of the wall and holds it up to show the rest of us. Billy takes it from her, and Keem kneels down beside her to see if he can loosen the surrounding bricks. Before long they’ve managed to pull out a dozen more, leaving a hole in the wall that’s big enough to crawl through.
“After you,” says Keem with a dramatic sweep of his arm.
I get down on my knees and stick my hand through first so I can see what lies ahead. Nuru’s light doesn’t reveal much, though, and the only thing I notice is the silky softness of the dirt on the ground. I crawl through the opening we made in the brick wall and find that the train tracks don’t extend beyond the barrier. I hold my hand high above my head but can’t find any walls other than the one at my back. Nuru says nothing but I’m pretty sure we’ve reached the Chamber of Souls.
Billy crawls through the opening next, followed by Nyla and Keem. I don’t have to tell them that we’ve entered another world—the world of the dead. Before we can take one step forward, a wave of sound rolls toward us, building in volume and intensity. With nowhere to run, we let the wave press us back against the brick wall. It’s the scariest sound I’ve ever heard—hundreds of souls groaning in agony!
Nyla grabs hold of my arm. “Is that…the dead?”
“I guess so,” I say, hoping I don’t look as scared as I feel.
“They don’t sound too happy to see you,” Keem says nervously.
I try to keep the fear out of my voice. “It’s Nuru they’ve been waiting for all this time, not me.”
“They’re just restless,” says Billy, giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “They know the end is near.”
When the wave of sound ebbs into the darkness, I push myself away from the wall and plunge forward with my hand held high. Nyla, Keem, and Billy follow my lead. Our feet make no sound on the feathery dust. We stay close together and try not to lose our bearings in the vast open space. Nuru’s light burns bright in my raised hand, but so far there is nothing to see. Then another sound sails toward us on soft currents of black air. This time we rush toward the sound instead of falling back.
Have you ever seen a living hymn—music so vibrant that it shapes the air? Praise songs light the gloom, turning the void into a moonlit beach. Voices swirl around us like stars, and words of rapture dance about our heads like beautiful moths drawn to Nuru’s unfailing light. We hear bells, sighs, cries of hallelujah! There are songs of joy sung in a hundred different languages, yet somehow we understand everything.
And then we see them—the dead! They stand in rows, heads bowed, arms folded across their chests like mummies from ancient Egypt. They are skeletons—bleached bones glow like polished ivory in the dark—but they sway with the grace of fifteen thousand dancers. As we draw closer, we see among their bones strands of blue beads, gold buttons, cowrie shells, and coins—all the reminders of home that have endured over the centuries.
I look down upon the dead and feel myself thinning, expanding, blossoming like a flower. I see Nuru’s light pouring down from my ra
ised hand, and then I blink and no longer sense my hand, my arm, or my body—I am filled with light. I am the light.
Somewhere below and behind me I can hear Nyla’s faint voice calling my name, but I feel no urge to respond or turn back. Billy stands with the dead, tears streaming down his face. And then Nuru speaks through me in a voice that rings like a gong: Awake, my beloved! It is time.
And with that, the light that I am shoots up into the air and explodes in brilliant sparks like the final firecracker on the Fourth of July. I feel the fluttering of wings as parts of me drift down upon the dead, settling upon the stark white bones as flesh. I am a magnificent star shining overhead, and below me are the dead awakened, hands clasped, arms raised in victory.
Then the ship arrives on serene black waves. The dead stop rejoicing and stand in silent awe as the vessel drifts in from afar. I smell salt in the dark air. The dead say a prayer of thanks and then form a solemn procession heading toward the ship’s gangplank. I watch the newly embodied souls helping one another, shepherding children on board. Very few among the dead are aged. Most died too soon, their lives cut short by the hardships of slavery. Billy moves among them, lifting infants up so they can be folded into the waiting arms of those already on deck. He beams with purpose and moves with the certainty of one who has found his place. He is white, yet he belongs. This journey will not be like the hellish crossing of those souls stolen from Africa so long ago.
A gust of sea wind fills the sails, and the wooden beams creak as the loaded ship rises on swelling waves. From above I see myself standing beside Billy on the deck. From below I see myself as a shining star high in the night sky. Then, as the ship pulls away from the shore, the sky turns pink and peach as the star becomes the sun. The dawn fills me with warmth and radiant light. I float in a cloudless blue sky as squawking gulls accompany us out to sea.
I see myself standing upon the deck, basking in the sun. I see the sun shining above me. I am both. I am complete. I am content.
Then I hear Nuru’s voice.
Look into your heart, D, and tell me what you see.
“Light!” I exclaim ecstatically. “Everywhere there is light.”
Look again, my child. Do you really wish to leave this world behind?
“Yes!” I cry without hesitation. “You said it yourself, I have nothing to lose. I want to see your realm.”
Won’t you miss your friends?
Suddenly I hear Nyla weeping softly. I don’t need to turn around to know that she is standing on the shore, wrapped tightly in Keem’s strong arms. Though he makes no sound, I can see the tears shining on Keem’s cheeks as well. “They have each other,” I say without a trace of envy or regret. “They don’t need me. You told me once that everyone belonged somewhere. I belong with you. Right?”
You have been an excellent host, D. But—
“But what?” I see a cloud manifest in the azure sky. It threatens to pass before the sun. “You said we had to stay together from now on. You said you’d never let go!”
Even if I release you from service, I will always be with you, D.
“‘Release me?’ You can’t—you can’t do that!” My voice gets louder as the ominous cloud creeps across the sun, dimming its glorious light. I can feel a storm of hysteria swirling within me. “I thought you were different. Everyone leaves me behind—everyone!”
You are my host, D. Through you, a part of me can continue to live in this world.
A sob slips from my throat. “I don’t have anyone to go back to.”
You have two loyal friends. And your foster mother is missing you now—she cares about you, D.
“No she doesn’t! Mrs. Martin only cares about Perfect-me. She doesn’t even know who I am.”
You haven’t given her a chance. I knew you were special because you opened your heart to me. If you are honest with others, they too will see your worth.
Billy holds me close and whispers, “Farewell, friend.”
I turn to the sun. The sun turns to me.
It is time, D. I must return to my realm. And you must return to yours.
“Please…don’t leave me. Don’t go!” I cry helplessly.
Hold fast to my love, D. Let it be the light that guides you home.
Another cloud passes in front of the sun. I search the ship deck but can no longer see myself there among the dead. Then there is total darkness as the rolling waves embrace me and pull me back to shore.
15.
I wake to the sound of water splashing below. Under my hands I feel the cold metal of the railing on Lullwater Bridge. I stare down into the lake and in its depths see a small ship trailing a brilliant star. “Good-bye, Nuru,” I whisper.
I am not gone, D, she answers. You will find me when you look within.
I smile and gaze at the sinking star until it disappears from sight. Then I look up and see Nyla and Keem holding hands by the boathouse. I cross the bridge and join my friends on the far side of the lake.
“Missed me, huh?”
I roll my eyes at Keem but can’t keep myself from grinning.
Nyla drops his hand and pulls me into her arms. “Welcome back, freak,” she whispers in my ear.
My hand automatically reaches for the sharp pin inside my coat pocket, but then I realize that I don’t need to draw blood to truly feel what’s in my heart. I hold onto Nyla instead and bury my face in her neck as hot tears spill from my eyes.
I feel Keem’s big hand resting gently on the back of my head. “We got you, D,” he says quietly. “We got you.”
THE END
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I’m blessed to have many friends who believe in magic, and as many family members who believe in miracles.
I thank my friend, Gabrielle, who listened to my summary of the story in its early stages and insisted that I let D live. Stefanie helped me work out the plot as we jogged around Prospect Park; Kate read the earliest draft and assured me that the story was complex and compelling. My writer friends on Facebook cheered each time I posted my word count over the holidays. Belonging to a community of artists is invaluable, and I thank all those who respect my need for solitude and welcome me back when the writing’s done—especially Rosa, who calls even when she knows I won’t pick up. I thank my book blogger friends for keeping me in the loop and for being steadfast supporters of my work.
Marvin Broome and Annemarie Shrouder taught me how to curse in German; my student, Naa Addico, enlisted her grandmother’s assistance when I needed help with West African languages. I appreciate their help, but I am responsible for any translation errors.
The park rangers at the African Burial Ground National Monument are phenomenal—informed, impassioned, and always willing to help. I thank Lead Park Ranger Douglas Massenburg for introducing me to Dr. Muhammad Hatim of the Imams Council of New York. Dr. Muhammad and Umar Al-Uqdah taught me about their faith, and I’m extremely grateful for their generosity.
Prospect Park is a vast wonderland in the heart of Brooklyn. I have wandered its paths since first moving to the city in 1994, and the park continues to soothe and inspire me. I thank the Prospect Park Alliance for preserving its beauty and history.
I want to thank my agent, Faith Childs, who read the manuscript and responded with enthusiasm and encouragement. I also thank her for persisting in an industry where doors and minds are so often closed to writers like me.
Lastly I thank the AmazonEncore team for keeping their door open.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Born in Canada, Zetta Elliott moved to Brooklyn in 1994 to pursue her PhD in American studies at New York University. Her poetry and essays have been published in several anthologies, and her plays have been staged in New York, Chicago, and Cleveland. She wrote the award-winning picture book Bird and the young adult novel A Wish After Midnight. She currently lives in Brooklyn.
Ship of Souls
Discussion Topics and Writing Activities
The novel begins with D overhearing a conversation between
his mother and a stranger he thinks is his father. Why do you think D’s mother wouldn’t let the man inside? Pretend that you are D’s father and write a letter to your son explaining why you’ve been absent for so long.
Cemeteries are considered “sacred ground,” yet the African Burial Ground was nearly destroyed by construction in lower Manhattan. Visit the site (or the Web site: http://www.nps.gov/afbg/index.htm) and learn what life was like for the enslaved men, women, and children who were buried there. What jobs did they perform? What clues were found during the archaeological dig that prove these people still felt connected to Africa?
What important historical sites can be found in your community? Choose one site and write a magical scene that might unfold there late at night.
Many historical sites don’t have a plaque or monument to explain their significance. Design a marker, sculpture, or sign to pay tribute to an important person, place, or event from your community’s past.
Enslaved Africans built the wall that ran along Wall Street, and they widened the Lenape Trail that became Broadway. When did slavery end in New York State? Learn more about the history of slavery where you live. What contributions did enslaved people make in your state?
Some blacks fought alongside the Americans in the Revolutionary War, and others sided with the British who promised them their freedom. Pretend that you are Jake, Billy’s enslaved friend. Write a monologue in which Jake explains why he wants to fight in the war. Which side would Jake choose?
Keem is a popular school athlete, yet he still gets teased because of his religion. Keem tells D that everyone has to fight for respect. How do you earn the respect of others?
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