The man spat more tobacco juice. “I have my orders.” He eyed us down the length of the gun. I closed my eyes and held my breath when it clicked, but nothing happened. His laugh was a low growl. “You two best come with me.”
I pushed into Merry’s leg, but he didn’t move. Instead, he stared off into the field, hypnotized by the men marching in rectangle formations. His jaw was tight, and his eyes were really wide, like the field was full of ghosts. I cleared my throat. “What is it, Merry?”
“I—” He blinked and shook his head, and his eyes were normal when he looked down at me. “It’s nothing, Em. This whole scene is……familiar.”
The end of the gun tapped Merry’s shoulder. “Let’s make it even more familiar, shall we? Now, move.”
Merry brushed off the seat of his pants and started walking, and I slipped my hand in his and clung tight, while the soldier pointed the way with the end of his gun. We passed rows of cannons. Troops in old-timey uniforms. Most of them stopped when we passed.
“Prisoners.” It was all the soldier ever called us as we marched across the field. Smoke tore at my eyes and made them water. At least, that’s what I told myself it was. I clutched Merry’s hand and tried to copy his walk: clipped steps and straight back. He looked more like a soldier than anyone else.
Over a rise, a lanky man stood beside a dirty tent, his head shriveled under a shock of bright red hair. Merry stopped, and I almost bumped into him.
The soldier pushed us up the hill with his gun. When we reached the top, he spat a stream of tobacco juice on Merry’s boots and saluted the red-haired man. “I found these two spying in the woods yonder. Other side of the field.”
Merry broke in. “Don’t you think you’re taking your ancient war games a little too seriously?”
The man with the carrot hair and horsey face walked up to Merry and stood, nose-to-nose, in front of him. For a few seconds, he just breathed, in and out, and glared at Merry without blinking. Merry stood at attention and never broke his stare. If I weren’t so scared, it might’ve been funny. I’d seen boys act that way on the playground, right before they started to fight, but I didn’t think grown-ups did it, too.
The soldier spoke through clenched teeth. “War is serious, and you, my friend, are in serious trouble.” He cut his eyes. “Put them in the tent. Tie him up, but you can leave her free. I’ll keep watch.”
I heard a crack, and Merry fell forward on his face. The back of his head was bleeding. I dropped to my knees and pressed my hands to his head. “Why did you have to shoot him? What did he do to you?” I felt my eyes tearing up, but really I was just mad.
The red-haired soldier picked Merry up under his arms and dragged him into the tent. A hand tugged at my arm and made me follow the grooves his boots made in the dirt. The soldier’s gun was bloody at the butt, and he slung it over his shoulder. “He’ll be all right. Might have a headache later. Though, with what he’s got coming, he’ll likely wish I’d shot him.”
THIRTY-TWO
My eyes wouldn’t focus. I blinked, but every movement was like a knife through my skull. I’d endured that brand of pain. Once. The last night of my life.
I bit into my leather sleeve to keep from crying out. Sweat ran into my eyes. I could see exactly what happened the night I died.
I was traveling the Natchez Trace with a small party, on my way to Washington DC. Originally, I intended to go through the port at New Orleans, but physical maladies pulled me off the river at Memphis. I languished for almost two weeks before the commanding officer decided I should take my servant and follow a Chickasaw Indian agent along the Trace as far as Nashville.
He was a quiet fellow, the agent. Kept to himself, like me. Silence always made for faster travels. I preferred it. Thus, I had come to like the man by the time we pulled up in front of Grinder’s Stand, a day’s ride south of Nashville.
That last night, I ate dinner early. Didn’t feel well. I decided to retire to my room and gave my servant leave for the evening. My room was small but serviceable, a sleeping pallet and one wooden chair. I left a small candle burning next to my bed in case I awoke during the night.
A scratching sound startled me. Insistent. Rhythmic. From the other side of my room.
I peeled open my eyes and saw the Indian agent. He leaned back in that wood chair and let it fall to the ground. A crude rocker. My mouth was muddy when I spoke. “Did I oversleep? I can be ready in—”
He leaned forward, and light caught a line of metal splayed across his lap. “Ssh. I think you’re ready. Wilkinson, he thinks you’re ready, too.” He lurched from the chair, and it crashed against the wall as the muzzle of the gun found my head. The world between my ears exploded, and I sunk into blackness.
Did I imagine him there?
I don’t know how long I was suspended. It could’ve been minutes or hours. When I awoke, the room was dark, the candle snuffed out. My breaths were shallow, and when I felt my head, part of it was gone.
I tasted blood and realized I’d bitten through my tongue to staunch the pain, but it still felled me in waves. My throat vibrated, like I cried out, but I was deaf to my own voice. If anyone heard me, no one came.
When I shot an animal, there was always that fine moment, the one where it accepted death. Not the same thing as dying, but the hush, the silence, that descended ahead of the end.
My body convulsed, and that peace entered me. I didn’t want more agony. I’d read about men who were shot and lingered for days, screaming and wailing in torment. I was in control, and I knew what to do. With a quaking hand, I reached under my pallet and found my gun. I could only lift it as far as my gut, but I was always the master of the mortal shot.
It didn’t matter how I finished it.
A head bobbed in my sight lines, hair a corkscrewed mess. I sat up and grabbed around its neck. Pressed my fingers into flesh. I won’t let you kill me again. I won’t. I—
“Merry!”
Emmaline. Her face was flushed, her eyes buggy. How did she wind up at my deathbed?
I released her, and my world righted. My last assignment. Nowhere. Mississippi. A little girl looking for her father. I reached out and pulled her, coughing, to me. “I’m sorry, Em. I thought you were someone else. I—”
In that instant, I understood why people had kids. Why I should’ve tried harder to find love and settle down while I lived. Her face beamed straight into my heart. I wanted to teach her everything I knew. Take her everywhere I’d been. Protect her from every threat.
Emmaline coughed again. “You s-s-scared me, M-m-merry. I th-th-ought—”
I brushed her hair away from her face. “Ssh. Delusions from this crack on the head. I’ll be all right. Did I hurt you?”
She wiggled in my lap and nuzzled into my chest. “A little bit, but I’m okay now. I can shake it off. Like Daddy.” She looked up at me. “Like you.”
I wiggled my wrists and saw indentions where rope had been. Emmaline’s eyes followed mine. “I untied you. After the red-headed soldier left. Nobody’s been outside in a while.”
“How long?”
“I don’t know. It’s dark now. Everybody’s down the hill, around a big bonfire.”
I slipped my head out of the tent and sniffed wood smoke. In the darkness, a lone fiddle accompanied a female voice. A haunting tune I remembered, it called down the tunnel of time.
Why did I e’er leave this fair cot,
Where once I was happy and free;
Doom’d now to roam, without friend or home,
Oh! dear father, take pity on me.
Tears hounded the edges of my eyes, and I brushed them away before Em could see. When my sight adjusted to the dark, I scanned the area around the tent. A crude table and chair. A cluster of trees.
And a horse. Tied to a thick pine.
I scooted back into the tent and crawled to Emmaline.
“Em, we have to hurry. There’s—”
Before I could finish, a rustling interrupted me. Emmaline screamed and scrabbled behind my body.
As I looked over my shoulder, Wilkinson stepped through the tent flap. I got up on my knees and shielded Em. A pathetic defense. She buried her face into my back, and I could feel her breath burn through my jacket.
Skin creased around Wilkinson’s Nowhere eyes when he smiled. “Meriwether Lewis. It’s good of you to deliver my little beauty to me.”
THIRTY-THREE
I could hear the Judge’s voice, even when I plugged my ears with my fingers.
The Judge. His creepy smile swallowed me.
I took a step back. How did the Judge know where to find me? I saw what he did to me with his eyes, and I wanted to run away as fast as I could. If I hid in the woods in the dark, could the Judge find me there?
Would he find me anywhere?
The Judge pulled out a gun with a silencer and pointed it at Merry, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from me. He snaked his tongue over his lips. “Well, little beauty. Your Merry here is as resourceful as ever. I was beginning to think I’d lost you for good.” He rubbed sweat from his forehead with his free hand and held it out to me. Palm open, like he wanted me to take it. His fingers shook. “Why don’t you come over here? Stand by me? That way, you won’t get bloody when I shoot Merry.”
I grabbed Merry’s waist and clamped my hands together. “Don’t you shoot him. I’ll scream and scream. I won’t go anywhere with you. I won’t. I—”
The Judge lurched over to us. He lodged his shaky fingers under my arms and pulled me free of Merry. I kicked along the ground as he dragged me to the other side of the tent. The gun clicked in his hand. He flung me to one side and took aim.
It was my only chance.
I balled my body up like a ball and bowled myself into the Judge’s legs. Stars twinkled behind my eyes when I hit him, but it worked. He staggered to one side, and his shot fired wide.
Or, I thought he missed. When Merry backed into a folding table and started to fall, I thought maybe I was wrong. I looked up at the Judge and, in that moment, I hated him enough to kill him, to take his gun and point it at him and pull the trigger. If Merry died, I couldn’t be left all alone. With the Judge.
Merry rolled sideways, and when he popped to his feet, he held another gun. He pointed it at the Judge’s head and never once looked in my direction. “Give Emmaline to me, Wilkinson.”
The Judge kept his gun trained on Merry. Another adult staring match, only with weapons. I bit my lip and waited for a way to do something—anything—to help Merry.
The Judge chuckled. “You know what will happen if you shoot me.”
“You’ll be sent back to the beginning. Have to start Nowhere all over. How many times will that make for you?”
“I’ve only started once that I recall.” The Judge’s belly rippled when he laughed. “That’s right. I ditched my last assignment when I figured out I could make the rules work for me here. And they have. Spectacularly. An eternity to build an empire, to savor my Ann here. My little beauty. If I’m smart. If I don’t get caught.”
“How do you make your own rules in this place? Tell me.”
The Judge took a step toward Merry. “You always were a good soldier, weren’t you, Lewis?”
“I—”
“Every time I saw you, you were kissing ass. Doing the right thing. Upstanding. Ethical.” He spat. “Me? I only did that when it moved me ahead. Advanced my agenda.”
The Judge stopped. He panted like a dog when his eye fell on me, and I shrunk against the side of the tent.
“The only thing I’ve plotted is how to find my Ann again. That’s what happens, you know. At the end of all this, this Nowhere. Our spirits are gobbled up by living souls.”
“And you think—”
“My Ann’s soul is in that little beauty. Yes. You can shoot me now. Send me back. But I’ll find her again. It will only be a matter of time. Because, we both know in Nowhere, we’ve got nothing but time.”
Merry cocked his gun. “You won’t remember her if you go back, Wilkinson. That’s the deal I got. Everything about your tour in Nowhere is erased. The only thing you’ll recall is your miserable life.”
“The best thing about my life was my Ann. Her spirit will call to me. From Nashville. Isn’t that where you father is, little beauty?”
Instead of answering, I reared back and spit as far as I could. It landed like bird droppings on the toe of the Judge’s shoe. He kept the gun trained on Merry and smiled at me.
“I thought so.”
“Leave Em alone. Let’s have our little duel according to Nowhere’s rules. Loser goes back to the start.”
I twisted my head between the Judge and Merry. What were they talking about? Where was Nowhere? Even though I knew it was a bad time, I opened my mouth to ask, but Merry stopped me.
“You were the most self-interested son of a bitch I ever met.”
“I had to survive. I had a family. A wife. God, I miss my wife.”
Merry spoke through gritted teeth. “I missed my life, you bastard. Here I’ve been wandering through this hell all these years, worried about the taint suicide would lend my legacy. I had to spend all this time here to know who killed me.”
The Judge pulled a lever at the top of his gun and tensed. “You gave up on your life. You were a manic depressive drunk who committed suicide in the middle of nowhere, one dark October night.”
I watched the end of the Judge’s gun shake, his finger hovering over the trigger. I went to the Judge and took his hand. When I talked, my voice was different. Flirtatious, my mother called it. The voice I used for her men. “Judge. Put down that gun and come to me.” His head jerked sideways, and I could see hope in his eyes. I stoked it. “Please. I want you, like you said. I want to be with you.”
The Judge’s whole body jiggled before he turned and fell on his knees in front of me. His fat fingers stroked my face, and his eyes were glassy with tears. I held my breath to keep from smelling his cigar stink and forced myself to smile as he ran his lips all over my face. “Oh, little beauty. I knew you’d know me when the time was right.”
Shouts sounded in the camp, and a commotion worked its way toward our tent. Merry caught my eye a second before a popping sound ripped the air behind the Judge, and as he turned, the sides of the tent melted together and parachuted to the ground. While the Judge watched it flutter around us, I clasped his hand and raised it to my mouth.
And bit him until I tasted blood.
He shrieked and teetered backwards into a big fold in the falling tent. His blood was salty on my lips. I wiped it away and dove under another ripple before he could grab me again.
My heart beat so fast, I thought it would explode. “Merry! Where are you?” I swam through the sea of muddy canvas. It scratched my face and tugged my legs. When I tried to breathe, it was like I was drowning in cloth. I kicked my legs as hard as I could. “Merry! Answer me!”
The Judge’s voice seeped through the gloom. “He can’t give you what I can, little beauty. Come back to me.”
Hoofbeats pounded the ground a few feet from the tent and echoed in my chest. I clawed in their direction through the dirt. When the tent parted, a cool breeze hit my face. I crawled through an opening into the night air.
Merry.
He galloped toward me astride a black horse. He swooped down an arm and picked me up, and the whole sky tilted when I landed between him and the horse’s streaky mane. With one arm, he held me close in front of him. “Hang on, Em. I won’t let you fall.”
I looked back to try to see him, but instead, I saw the Judge pop out of the tent. He raised his fist, and when he yelled, my heart flip-flopped in my chest.
“I’ll always find you. Wherever you are. You’ll always be my little beauty.”
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THIRTY-FOUR
Decades. They rolled into a century. And more. The whole time, I stalked the spirit of my departed Ann, knowing she would land somewhere eventually. Her light was too ebullient to be kept from another life. I knew her essence would be lessened when absorbed into another person, but she would still be there.
I believed she could be coaxed to the surface. Somehow, she would remember me. The love we shared. It would bring her spirit to the fore and consume the outside person.
She was so much like the child. Sumptuous curls for my hands to get lost in. The first time I saw her, she tossed her powdered head. It was Philadelphia, her hometown. She was astounding, in her Parisian silks, set against skin of alabaster. Her eyes caressed every man in the room.
But, they rested on me.
Lingered.
I was a moth to her light. Lost at her side. Me, a pauper. From pitiful Maryland stock.
She overlooked my failings. Her eyes bored into me, and I saw the man I could be. A man of importance. Property. Even fame. With a tilt of her head, she mapped the cartography of my life. And, I followed her directives, until the moment she died.
Find me, she said, as the air seeped out of her. I gazed into her unseeing eyes, and I was obsessed.
I could still taste her, underneath the hoofbeats that reverberated in the still air of autumn.
The child didn’t recognize me, but that didn’t matter. My Ann was there. When the time was right for the child to know me, she would be mine. Underneath every protest, she called to me.
I’m here, Jimmy.
You’ve found me.
At last.
Go after them, I said.
THIRTY-FIVE
Sunday. October 9, 1977. Somewhere along the Natchez Trace, Mississippi.
Hoofbeats flayed the ground behind us. At least two horses, if my instincts were right.
I wrapped one arm around Emmaline to hold her in front of me in the saddle and tugged the reins with the other. Another set of hoofbeats ripped through the darkness. Our horse reared. Bolted in a dead run through pitch blackness. The sharp thwack and flay of the branches switched our flesh. Spanish moss clawed at my eyes. The horse swerved and ducked, picking up blind speed in the wake of more shouting. I clung to Em, fighting to keep the horse on the blinding trail.
To Live Forever: An Afterlife Journey of Meriwether Lewis Page 15
