by T. C. Driver
Students on ship found it hard to believe that old Corney, the anti-professor, was a personal friend of the popular young “Becka.” We seemed to be from two worlds apart. The little Becka I knew was a wild headstrong, healthy, too cute four and five year old brat that beat up on her eight year old brother and told her parents what to do. She was famous for throwing her toys across the Café floor and or onto the stage.
“Back in the day” before Jackie quit the band for the first time, I was a regular at the old Gospel Café. I even sat in with the band playing rhythm guitar many nights. In those early days Gary Litton ran sound. He was my witness if the kid has forgotten me. She might make me out a liar (ha-ha). The band made a recorded live CD for me of my songs. I never sold any but I still keep one on my wall back home. Looking around I saw Linda Howell, Ronnie Howells wife and went over to say Hello, and yes, Ronnie married very well!
“Where’s Ronnie?” I asked as I walked up to Linda.
“Right here,” shouted Ronnie from the sound booth and “you stay away from my wife you old cuss.”
Ronnie had a great since of humor and was known in Gospel music as the “Words greatest drummer”. Ronnie waved me back towards the sound booth. He was sitting in the sound booth at the back wall of the auditorium with Gary Litton, Rodney Dole, plus a Becka sound technician that now had more help than he wanted or needed. Ronnie said he wasn’t playing tonight, too much like work. He and Linda were enjoying Bermuda and taking life easy, not spending time coming to rehearsals or keeping a schedule. He had more money than God anyway, said Ronnie and laughed.
“I let Becka’s road drummer play tonight said Ronnie! Jackie Robers liked to have her old friend, Ronnie, in the sound room whenever he wasn’t playing drums, so this poor sound man was stuck with all of us.
Ronnie leaned over and gave me a proper warning, “If Jackie or Tom calls me up to sing and play a set of songs be ready. You will be called next. Have two songs ready off of your old album, Cornelius!”
Not thinking that Jackie might do something like call me up to sing I started getting nervous and kept going over old song lyrics in my head so I didn’t talk much.
When the crowd stood up we could still see over peoples heads while sitting down in the sound booth. Ronnie was telling me “Howell” good he was doing after open heart surgery (ha-ha).He said my wife stopped by the Gospel Café now and then but not often, and that the old place was still open and that he only made it there occasionally. My Patty always did like to sing with others more than singing solo. He and Linda didn’t make it much any more because of his health neither did Big Al, and Helen (famous singers from the old days). Then Ronnie asked me if I was still playing music anywhere?
“No Ronnie” I answered. I don’t have much time to play Gospel music anymore, I’ve been busy bombing Africans, and shooting run away Mexicans, important save the world type stuff. All the while helping my giant work for God and becoming holiness. It’s been a hard job but somebody has to do it. Not much fun really, but it does pay the bills, and I got to see the “Dope” but not in person.”
“We always knew you’d be doing something for the Lord Cornelius” said Linda. “Yes Cornelius said Ronnie we both always knew!” It sure was great to talk to my old friend Ronnie and catch up on things; as we were talking they started introducing him.
“Ronnie it’s been years since I sang my old songs” I complained. Ronnie walked down the isle and played a set with Jackie and the Band and then just as he had said, Tommy “D” Tuner started introducing me. Wow, what a set up! Not like the old days. I didn’t have to try to play guitar and Jackie had the words of my old songs come up on a heads up display screen just below my sight. That’s money talking for yah! My cat could have sung those songs.
I sang “Little White Church” and then “Preacher Steve,” and ended up with “To Fly up, Get down. I sounded pretty good that night I thought!” On each of my old songs Ronnie played also and then we both sat back down. Jackie had never let being a big star go to her head. I prayed that the young “Becka” was handling the pressure well. What a joy it was to have friends who will share the limelight and still admit they know you after they’ve become rich and famous. Often it’s the other way around in life, if you have some trouble many friends dump you like a hot potato. Sometimes you just don’t know.
Becka had watched her older sister Summer become a recording star first. When her mother Christina joined Summer on stage people said they sounded like “The Jugs” an old mother and daughter duet from my childhood. Summer and Christina, although very successful were both still mere mortals. This wild crazy star world that “Becka” was now living in was different, and even bigger than fame. Jackie texted me and said that I had done alright on my songs. I wondered how she sent that text while she was playing on stage.
By the time Summer and Christina came out to sing Ronnie and I were both seated back in the sound booth, by the time they finished I thought to myself, “this crowd had already gotten their money’s worth.” Summer was first then her mother, then both and on their last big hit song “Becka” was singing with them in live shadow from behind a screen and the crowd was going crazy. The shouting soon started, then the feet stomping began, Becka! Becka! Becka! The youngsters’ in the audience chanted! First Dorothy and Buddy, and Joey Durrett, and then Jackie and then Tommy “D” Turner all did songs off their best selling CDs. Then the background lighting began to change and CO2 smoke started pouring from back stage. This was “Becka’s” trade mark entrance. The theme song of Becka’s new TV chat show started playing. Her show was already twice as popular as the old Oprah show. Young girls in the audience started fainting, many fans in the crowd started moving forward and a line of shielded police rushed in across the bottom of the stage. The music and lights dimmed as the orchestra pit started rising up slowly with a huge red parade type drum at center; every one figured that “Becka” was about to break out of that drum. Becka started all her concerts with a prayer from off stage through her wireless microphone. The prayer ended and the smoke was thick as fire works sparkled. Just as the Band struck its first note a shockwave jolted the building. It felt like the whole Bermuda Island had been moved six inches to the left. Glass showered the large ballroom. For the first few seconds the youngsters kept shouting Becka! Becka! Becka! Thinking this blast was part of the show.
Gary Litton, Rodney Dole and I knew all to well what it was; the sharp shock wave produced from modern military ordinance. We grabbed Linda and Ronnie and threw them down violently to the floor. Glass rained down on us! After a very short time we all peaked out from behind the sound room wall.
“Becka” had been still inside the drum and was unhurt, her mother Christina was on stage left playing fiddle an was hit hard. Becka saw her mother standing and bleeding on stage as she jumped out of the big red drum. Becka then ran towards her catching Christina just as she slumped to the floor. Becka then jumped back onto the Orchestra pit that was now starting on its way back down with her bleeding mother Christina in her arms. They both landed on top of the grand piano; as they hit Becka’s knee buckled with the force of the landing causing her to fall to one knee. Just then as Becka looked up holding her bleeding mother limp in her arms a photographer took a picture of the pair on top of the piano.` This picture became the photograph of the decade. Becka was already bigger than the Beatles, Michel Jackson and Elvis. She now became a world wide idol figure to young girls across many cultures. This one image on stamps, posters, billboards, coins, and magazines covers made this photographer a billionaire and Becka a God! In worldly eyes that is, the most known person on planet earth. This was all done with Gospel music at a time when God, Jesus and the Bible were often hated, unwanted and unpopular.
We stared out over the sound booth wall still not moving from our knees, people were in a state of panic everywhere. It was dark inside and out, but plain to see in the moonlight that the great Ark had been attacked. The ship had thick black smoke pouring out of a ho
le in its starboard side (the side facing us in the ballroom). All of the windows and doors, in the ball room facing the ocean and some parts of the walls were now gone giving us an unobstructed view of the Great Ark burning against the clear moonlit sky.
People at the “Becka” show were steadily pouring out onto the brick patio and beach. Many were trying to stop the bleeding from big and small cuts. Blood ran “tomato topping thick” forming a glass and ceiling tile pizza that covered the floor. “Crying, loud hysterical” people and also “still frozen quietly dying” or statue people as I called them were both everywhere to be found in abundance. About four hundred were dead quickly, four hundred more would die before help came, slightly less than nine-hundred would die in total. Two thousand people were treated, the rest of us were unhurt. Two ladies from “purchasing” lay headless in the doorway. I told police their names and title, I could tell them apart from their smell. One of them had smoked cigarettes, and one smoked those cheap little cigars. Their bodies lay for some time because emergency personnel worked on the living first. Joe Coe paced back and forth in the edge of the beach sand, his ship phone glued to his ear but going unanswered. Joe, by being off of his ship as it burned close by in front of him was fast going crazy or mad. About fifteen hundred of his students and crew had come to shore with him most were also in the sand watching her burn. Out of a hole in the side of the Ark pumped a huge black plume of smoke reaching skyward as of a volcano. EMT and hotel medical staff started arriving about twenty minutes after the blast the first ones on the scene were doctors and nurses from Patels palace next door. I had met them before in India. The Gospel Café band was rushed away by security. In all this confusion I almost forgot my appointment with Jediah Patel.
I walked across the sand toward the other resort or Jediah’s Bermuda home next door and was soon knocked down to the ground with my face in the sand by security personnel wearing military body armor and holding M16 rifles. No Business suites here in the sand (ha-ha). My face was in the sand before I could raise my hands and that grinding boot on my neck was not fooling around. I stated my appointment and I still had a Patel employee ID card in my wallet. Even so they still scanned my face, waved me with a wand and patted me down. One led the way while one held me at gunpoint with my hands on top of my head.
On a large porch, just before the next security check point were two more guards were waiting inside. A voice from the dark patio to my right said,
“Hello Joe” It was Connie that sweet Vietnamese lady from India! Glancing right I could see the glow of her cigarette brighten. She waved the guards and I sat down at her table. The guards left us alone. We talked about twenty minutes. I thought about taking up smoking again. Her cigarette smelled very good, like “back in the day.” These were real cigarettes, not “fire-safety” cigarettes like all those made in America today.
“America used to make the best cigarette, the best car, the best music and the best rockets in the world” said Connie. “Your government had a better idea and well not so much now, Joe. In fact you guys really suck, do you remember that idiot black guy back at Super Bowl Forty six! Every year there is another low class rapper with another how low can you go stunt, or a nipple ring. The whole world is laughing at Ghetto America, don’t you have any pride left at all, letting the lowest scum you can find define your image on TV world wide. My daddy was American, and also part black and I’m ashamed to speak of America now days. How could people so proud fall so low so quickly? You should be ashamed Cornelius! (You sound racist Connie I said)
Those same two big guys from Patels palace in India came downstairs and ended my conversation with Connie by walking me up to see Jediah. Both of these men were in expensive business suits. One waited outside the office with me and one went through the huge wooden double doors. Being inside a Patel home always makes a man feel small, the steps, the doors, hallways, ceiling, and railings are built to a massive scale. Starring eye to eye with door knobs is creepy. While waiting outside the door I thought about Jediah’s new house being built in India, right next door to another just like here in Bermuda. Could his daddy be of normal size and his sons be large I contemplated.
The big doors swung open “Hello Cornelius, we have much to discuss,” roared my old friend. “This has been quite a night so far. I love the excitement! It is good for ones digestion just like your red wine (ha-ha). His voice was low and powerful even when he laughed, not much like a young boy anymore. As we talked one of his Asian girls poured my glass, then he nodded and she retired into another room.
“Personal things first, Cornelius,” said Jediah. “We must speak of personal things first.” Jediah slowed his speech. “Every man has his castle. Cornelius, you were completely safe in my palace even when hunted by my uncle. We, the house of Patel including my uncle, did our best. Cornelius please know this, we both did our best. You are counted as a friend so I wanted to tell you about all this in person. In Virginia your own people lay in wait for you with papers. My uncle has old agreements with your commonwealth. We must honor them. Your life is not in danger and it is a small and old matter concerning a woman. Your own family claims that you have shamed them. You may be jailed, or fined or both! The Prince of your Province seeks you! Some advice Cornelius! Do not ask for rights from your Philadelphia constitution jury! This Prince will crush you in anger! Beware the courts in your Province of Virginia are his to do with as he wishes! This has been true since your man Woodrow Wilson sold Virginia years ago. Cornelius your charges come from a woman thirty-five years ago, she said you did not have sex with her but shamed her. This woman’s sister knows a citizen who has the ear of a board member, who is the Prince of Virginia. I’m sorry Cornelius you could run of course. You know you are always welcome back in India at any time.”
“Thank you, Jediah, but I won’t run, and I’ve always suspected that the governor was not in charge back home!”
Jediah then took a phone call but he had no phone. He gestured me out to the balcony, and I obeyed. I walked out onto his third floor balcony into the night. I could see the Ark plainly leaning to its port side or out to sea. The hole in her starboard side was plainly visible in the star light. Smoke was of very much less volume as it poured out of the hole, I guessed less than ten percent of what it had been. After some minutes Jediah then joined me on the balcony, still talking to more than one person on a phone. I could not hear or see.
“Yes, I do see her. She’s in plain sight, so Friday says he can save her. Ok! If I think she’s worth it. Ok, then, Friday! Good job, do continue for now and give an update to my man Winston every twelve hours on your progress. You are in Charge Friday, be on time. Yes, I will be talking to Joe Coe, don’t worry just do your job.”
Friday had evidently saved the ship. That is if he could get her to New Port News leaning as she was. The ships lean was almost twelve degrees to port. Many things on board ship were being dumped into the sea. The nose biting smells of petroleum jet fuel being dumped off the Ark burned our noses on shore. The smell was very strong on Jediah’s balcony. Joe’s Chief of staff First mate Friday had acted very quickly and had shut off the bulk head doors and purposely started flooding the Port side of the ship even as the missile was about to hit the ship. Shutting those doors and starting those powerful pumps condemned six hundred and sixty six men to death without a chance to get out, but lifted the damaged side out of the water far enough to save the ship. A rocket, a very fast skim the surface torpedo had been fired from near the middle of the harbor. This unprotected side was easy prey. Our protection was down. This was the same type of rocket that just missed us in the “big attack” off of Gumbo Station.
