Half of Paradise

by James Lee Burke

  “Let’s go, let’s go. Everybody in the trucks,” Evans said.

  “I can’t get up,” Benoit said through the rain.

  “You ain’t in my gang. Get out of the way,” Evans said.

  “Where’s gang three?”

  “How do I know? Get out of the way and let my men up.”

  “Quit pushing,” someone said.

  “You dumb bastard. You knocked my hat in the water,” another said.

  “Gang five up here,” Evans shouted.

  “Help Claxton up.”

  “Grab hold of a root, Daddy.”

  Avery, Toussaint, and Brother Samuel pushed him up by his legs. His hands reached the top of the ditch, and then he fell backwards into the water and went under. He sat up with just his head and shoulders showing. His gray hair was matted with clay.

  “Try it again.”

  “Gang five over here,” Evans shouted. “Get the hell out of here, Benoit.”

  “I can’t find my gang.”

  “Where’s Rainack?” another inmate said.

  “Down at the other end,” Evans said.

  “Stop shoving, for Christ’s sake.”

  “Let me get on your shoulders.”

  “Cut it out.”

  They pushed Daddy Claxton up the side until he could get his stomach over and make the rest of it with his elbows and knees.

  “Who’s next?” Toussaint said.

  “I’ll go,” Benoit said.

  “Where’s Jeffry and Billy Jo?”

  “They went fishing,” LeBlanc said.

  “Benoit, I told you to find your own gang,” Evans said, the rain beating against his cork sun helmet.

  “I don’t know where it is.”

  “Let Brother Samuel go,” Toussaint said.

  Toussaint made a foot-step with his hands and they boosted Samuel up the embankment. He crawled over the top.

  “How about me?” Benoit said.

  “Wait your turn,” LeBlanc said.

  “I can’t find nobody. I’ll go to detention if I ain’t back with my gang.”

  “That’ll break my heart.”

  “Come on, Avery.”

  LeBlanc and Toussaint shoved him to the top. LeBlanc followed, and Avery and Brother Samuel lay on their stomachs over the side to help Toussaint up. He dug one foot in the clay and leaped upward, grabbing some roots. He hung there and kicked his feet into the embankment. They caught him by the wrists and pulled him up. Benoit was left in the ditch

  “How about me?” he said.

  “Go take a bath,” Evans said.

  “Be a good guy. I’ll get time in detention.”

  Evans looked around him. His eyes snapped. He forgot about Benoit.

  “Where’s Billy Jo and Jeffry?” he said.

  “They gone fishing,” LeBlanc said.

  “Shut your mouth. Who’s seen Billy Jo and Jeffry?”

  No one answered.

  “God damn you, where are they?”

  “I ain’t seen them since it started raining,” Daddy Claxton said.

  “They was down in the ditch. You ain’t blind. What happened to them?” Evans said.

  “They could have got mixed up in another gang,” Daddy Claxton said.

  “Somebody here saw them. I want to know where they are.”

  “Go talk to a wall,” LeBlanc said.

  “I’m going to send you back to the box for that.”

  “You fat swine.”

  Evans struck him across the mouth with the heel of his hand.

  “I’ll use my pistol barrel the next time you say it,” he said.

  “It don’t matter what you do. You ain’t got long.”

  There was a smear of red across LeBlanc’s lips. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and spit.

  “You got dirty hands,” he said.

  Evans hit him again, this time across the nose.

  “Get in the truck, you sonofabitch. Get moving, every one of you.”

  “I know how I’m going to do it. It’s going to hurt,” LeBlanc said.

  “Move! I’ll get straight with you later.”

  They walked across the clearing through the mud and the rain and climbed in the back of the truck. LeBlanc got in and looked at Evans.

  “You seen a hog cut before?” he said.

  “You’ll pay through the ass for this,” Evans said, and slammed the doors shut and snapped the padlock.

  There was no light inside the truck. The men sat on the benches in their wet clothes and listened to the rain beat on the roof. They could hear Evans speaking to the captain outside.

  “I’m missing two,” Evans said.

  “Where are they?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe they got in with another gang.”

  “How long have they been gone?”

  “I didn’t miss them till I ordered the others out of the ditch.”

  “Can’t you keep watch over seven men without losing somebody?”

  “There was a dozen guys down there that didn’t belong to my gang. I couldn’t tell which ones was mine.”

  “We’ll check the other gangs. You’d better hope we find them,” the captain said.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Tell Rainack to phone in to the warden.”

  “We ain’t sure they broke out yet.”

  “The warden wants a report when anybody’s missing.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Check this end of the line and I’ll start on the other.”

  Daddy Claxton had his ear pressed to the back door of the truck. His mouth was open in a half grin. The water dripped off his clothes onto the floor.

  “By God, they done it. They broke out,” he said.

  “Did anybody see them?” Avery said.

  “They was working next to me,” Brother Samuel said. “When the sides started caving in they dropped their tools and took off down the ditch.”

  “Did you hear the captain chewing out Evans?” Daddy Claxton said. “He’ll get busted if they don’t catch them.”

  “We ain’t sure they got away yet,” LeBlanc said.

  “They wasn’t running down the ditch for no exercise,” Toussaint said.

  “They could have climbed up the other side when all that dirt fell in,” Daddy Claxton said. “The hacks was worrying about the ditch flooding and them pumps going out.”

  “The dogs won’t be able to follow them in the rain. They have a good chance,” Avery said.

  “Billy Jo said they had a car hid out somewhere,” Daddy Claxton said.

  “They’ll be lucky if the police ain’t sitting in it waiting for them,” Toussaint said.

  “They talked it around plenty,” Brother Samuel said.

  “Them boys is long gone. I wish I was with them,” Daddy Claxton said.

  “Why didn’t you go?” LeBlanc said.

  “I asked them. They told me I was too old.”

  “They couldn’t have stopped you from going.”

  “I reckon they’re right. I been in prison too many years to have any business on the outside.”

  “I ain’t sure I want to be with them,” Brother Samuel said.

  “How come?” Claxton said.

  “Jeffry’s carrying a spirit. I seen the sign this morning. There was a big wart on his finger.”

  “You get warts from picking up frogs,” Claxton said.

  “Not this kind,” Brother Samuel said.

  “Them boys is gone. There ain’t no wart going to hold them back.”

  “I told him the spirit might come back after I healed him.”

  “They’ll be out of the state by tomorrow morning,” Daddy Claxton said.

  “It was a devil wart. It takes a special kind of conjuring to get rid of it.”

  “How long they going to keep us here?” LeBlanc said.

  “We ain’t got to work as long as the hacks is out on search,” Claxton said.

  Evans unlocked the back doors and threw them open. The wind blew the rain inside the tru
ck. He and the captain climbed inside and left the doors open. Their boots and the bottoms of their trousers were covered with mud. A thin stream of water ran off the brim of the captain’s campaign hat. Their slickers were shiny from the rain.

  “Somebody in here saw them get away,” the captain said. “I want you to tell me where they went.”

  The rain blew in the truck and formed small pools on the floor.

  “Speak up. You ain’t deaf and dumb,” Evans said.

  “What about you?” the captain said to Daddy Claxton.

  “I was working all the time. I didn’t see nothing.”

  The captain asked each one of them.

  “I didn’t know they were gone until we came out of the ditch,” Avery said.

  “There was too many people around,” Toussaint said.

  “I heard they went fishing,” LeBlanc said.

  “I didn’t see nothing,” Brother Samuel said.

  “Everybody outside,” Evans said.

  “Where we going?” Daddy Claxton said.

  “You’re going to stand in the rain till we find them or somebody tells us where they are.”

  “The rest of the trucks is going to the barracks,” Claxton said.

  “This one ain’t,” Evans said.

  They climbed out and stood looking at Evans and the captain. The rain ran off their straw hats down inside their clothing. The other trucks drove past them through the mud. Several guards were moving into the trees on the other side of the clearing. They carried rifles and shotguns. One of them was examining the area where the ditch wall caved in, an eroded pile of clay that sloped down to the bottom of the canal. He bent over and looked at the ground, the rain breaking across the back of his slicker.

  “Here’s where they come out,” he yelled.

  The other guards came back and looked at the deep boot marks in the clay.

  “This is it, captain. They headed into the woods.”

  “Call the warden and tell him to get the state police moving in from the other side,” he answered.

  “What about us?” Claxton said.

  “You’ll stay here till we catch them,” Evans said.

  “It’s getting cold. Let us get in the truck,” Daddy Claxton said.

  “I’m going to send Rainack over here to watch you. Don’t move till we get back.”

  “We didn’t help them. How come we can’t go to the barracks with the rest,” the old man said.

  “Because you all think you’re so goddamn smart playing closemouth,” Evans said.

  “Go get Rainack,” the captain said.

  Evans walked down the line and came back.

  “He’s coming. I told him to get a couple of rifles out of the pickup,” he said.

  “I’m an old man. I can’t stay out in the wet like this,” Daddy Claxton said.

  Rainack came through the rain with two rifles that were slung upside down over his shoulder to keep the barrels dry. They were ’03 Springfields that had been bought from the government. He swung them off his shoulder by the slings and handed them to the captain. He reached under his slicker and took a handful of shells out of his pocket.

  “This is all there is,” he said, giving the cartridges to the captain. “The rest is corroded.”

  The captain handed one rifle to Evans, and they opened the bolts and loaded. The heavily grained military stocks were rubbed with linseed oil. There was a thin spray of rust on the butt plate of Evans’ rifle.

  They went around the farther end of the ditch to the far side of the clearing and moved into the trees with the other guards. The captain spread his men out through the woods. Rainack got in the back of the truck and sat on one of the benches. He took out his tobacco and rolled a cigarette. He struck a match on the wall of the truck, covered the flame with his hands, and exhaled the smoke into the damp air.

  “They’re gone now,” Claxton said. “Let us get out of the rain.”

  Rainack smoked in silence.

  “Come on, nobody will know the difference. We ain’t going to say nothing. I’m soaked plumb through.”

  “You heard the orders. You got to stay there till they get back.”

  “They ain’t going to know,” Claxton said.

  “I got my orders. If it was just me I wouldn’t mind,” Rainack said.

  Claxton stepped towards the truck.

  “Stay where you are.”

  “I had pneumonia once. I ain’t strong enough to pull through it again.”

  “I can’t do nothing for you.”

  “Don’t expect a bastard to act like a decent man,” LeBlanc said.

  “What did you say?”

  “I said you’re a bastard.”

  “The box didn’t seem to teach you nothing,” Rainack said.

  “Let the old man out of the rain,” LeBlanc said.

  “I’m going to tell Evans about this when you get back.”

  “Come out here and do something yourself.”

  “You should be in a crazy house,” Rainack said.

  “Why didn’t you go with the others? You’re going to miss the shooting.”

  “I don’t want to hear no more from you.”

  “You can hit a man through the eye at two hundred yards with a Springfield,” LeBlanc said.

  “Shut up.”

  Daddy Claxton began to cough.

  “Let him get in the truck,” Toussaint said.

  “I got my orders.”

  “Don’t ask him nothing. He’d let the old man spit blood before he’d do anything,” LeBlanc said.

  “Take my hat,” Avery said.

  “I’m obliged to you,” Claxton said.

  He put it low on his head. The wet locks of gray hair stuck to his forehead. He began coughing again. The rain poured out of the sky in steady swirling sheets. The irrigation ditch was almost filled. The embankment was washed smooth with the level of the ground. Roots and pieces of broken tree branches floated on the water. A moccasin slithered across the surface. The red water rippled back in a V behind his black head. He tried to work himself up on the bank and the current sucked him out again. He reared his head up as though climbing into the air and struck at the bank and tried to coil his body on the clay. He slipped out and was caught by a floating branch and pulled under.

  The rain stung Avery’s eyes. His fingers were pinched and white from the water. He felt the cold beginning to numb his feet. Brother Samuel looked straight ahead at the trees. His oversized clothes hung wetly from his body. Toussaint, Claxton, and LeBlanc stood with their heads slightly bowed, the rain sluicing off their hats. They looked blankly at the rivulets running through the mud. Brother Samuel stared at the place in the woods where the guards had entered.

  “They ain’t coming back,” he said.

  “They’ll be in Mississippi come morning,” Claxton said.

  “He was carrying a spirit. I seen the sign. I shouldn’t have used my powers to heal him.”

  “Don’t worry about them boys. They’re young. They can take care of theirself,” Daddy Claxton said. “It’s us old ones got to stand out in the rain and die from pneumonia.”

  “I thought I was doing right and I done wrong,” Brother Samuel said.

  “You didn’t do nothing wrong,” Toussaint said. “If they get shot it’s their bad luck. You didn’t have nothing to do with it.”

  “I went back on my promise to the Lord and had dealings with the Black Man. I should have knowed better. Billy Jo and Jeffry is going to pay for what I done.”

  He took the wood disk and its leather cord from around his neck and held it in his hand. The letters on it were cut deeply in the wood. He wound the cord tightly around the disk.

  “What are you doing?” LeBlanc said.

  “I’m giving up my powers.” He threw the disk across the clearing into the canal. It splashed into the water and floated along in the current. He took the snake fang and turtle foot from his pocket. He jabbed the fang into the shriveled foot and threw it against the op
posite bank. It hit and rolled into the ditch.

  “You mean you ain’t got no more powers now?” Daddy Claxton said.

  “I done renounced,” Brother Samuel said.

  “Just throwing them things away and you can’t heal no more?”

  “I done it too late. Jeffry and Billy Jo is going to stand before judgment today.”

  “They can take care of theirself. They ain’t old and wore down,” Claxton said.

  “They’ll go before the Lord with the evil spirit clinging to their souls, and the Lord will look down at them and turn His face away. He’ll point His finger at them and lightning will strike from His hand and the spirit will drag them down to the shade.”

  An hour passed. The rain lessened and then began again in a fresh downpour. The trees shook in the wind. Bits of dead leaves lay in the pools. The clearing was rutted with deep tire tracks where the trucks had passed. The warden, the parish sheriff and two deputies had driven out to the line and had become stuck. The car sunk down to its hubs and the tires spun and whined deeper. The smell of burnt rubber filled the air. The deputies got out and pushed and the mud splattered their uniforms, but the car didn’t move. Gang five was ordered to push them out. Toussaint got the jack from the trunk and jacked up the rear end. They put leaves and brush under the wheels and let the jack down. They lifted up the rear bumper, and while the warden accelerated they bounced the car out of the ruts. Then Rainack took them back over to the truck, and he got inside and they remained in the rain.

  It was two o’clock and Avery’s legs felt weak under him. He had his eyes closed and his face tingled from the steady beating of the rain. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He thought of when he used to work on the exploration crew on the Gulf. It seemed long ago. He remembered the hot, clear days on the drill barge and the easy roll of the swell, the few whitecaps in the distance, the long flat blue-green of the water and the way the trout jumped in the morning, their sides silver and speckled with red in the sun, and at night when they laid the trotline out. The next day it would be heavy with catfish, and there was the good feel of rope in his hands when he moored the jug boat to the rusty bulkhead of the barge, and the pitch of the deck when the weather got rough and they had to put on life jackets because someone was always getting washed overboard when they went out to pick up the recording cable, and the cans of explosives that were screwed end to end and were run down through the drill pipe below the floor of the Gulf, and the battery and detonator that the shooter used to set off the charge and the way the iron barge would slam and jar when the explosion went off, and the acrid yellow smoke that floated back off the water and would give you a headache if you breathed it, and going back inland on the launch after the hitch was over with everybody getting drunk and talking about going to whorehouses and staying there until the next hitch began, and the island off the coast with the pavilion among the cypress where they served chilled wine and the beer came in beaded mugs.