Dark Witness

by Rebecca Forster

  "Talk again!" he shouted.

  Here

  Robert felt like a sausage on the coals, hot on the inside, ready to burst through his casing on the outside. It was hard to breath. His arms were tired. He would like to quit and go back to the boat and go home. His tummy was telling him that this whole situation was nothing but trouble; his head was telling him there was glory to be had.

  "Hello! Hey!"

  Three more boxes were set aside. When he picked up the fourth he saw a foot, and then a leg, and then a bloodied knee poking out of a ripped pair of jeans. The foot moved. Robert's heart leapt to his throat.

  "There you are! There you are! You're all hurt. My name is Robert. My name is Robert. Here I am!"

  Carefully, Robert lifted another box and there he was; a whole human being with a head and legs and a hand that didn't quite look like it was put together right. Robert reached for the last box that would show him this person's face.

  "I'm going to take this one down, but I don't know if the side ones are going to fall. Be ready in case it bangs your head. Okay, here I go."

  Robert lifted the box and the others did not fall. The person gasped. He sobbed. The person was crying.

  "Don't move. Don't move," Robert cried out joyfully.

  Oh blessed be the Lord that he had not killed this person with his good intentions. Turning, he grasped the flashlight, swung back and held it high. In the light he saw a young man not much younger than himself. His long hair was matted with dried blood. There was blood on his very nice yellow jacket. There was blood on the boxes. Tears rolled down his dirty, bloodied cheeks. But it was the boy's maimed hand that Robert found most interesting. It was resting on top of a head so bloody there was no way to tell what color the hair was or what kind of human being that hair belonged to. The boy must have seen him looking because he sobbed:

  "She's dead, dude. Hannah's dead."

  CHAPTER 4

  "Help! Help!"

  Robert started calling the minute he tied up the boat. He lumbered up the path, huffing, puffing, and screaming. His voice was hoarse because he had actually started screaming for help a half a mile down river. One by one the people he was calling paused in their chores and prayers, raised their heads, and tried to pinpoint where the cries were coming from.

  Glenn was the first to react. He dropped the heavy headed sledgehammer to the ground and took his first slow, cautious steps toward the sound. He well knew that panic was the devil's tickle and made a person act irrationally. When he was sure that Robert was in need, Glenn left the split in the log, and the hammer on the ground, and went to render assistance.

  Teresa was next.

  Even though it was cold outside, she had cracked the window because the kitchen was hot. When she was sure she heard Robert, Teresa wiped her hands on a hopsack towel and left the chicken stewing. She walked past the table that was set and through the front door. Outside, Teresa took the stairs in a goodly, measured fashion. She was a practical sort who looked at adversity with the same level gaze as good fortune.

  Upstairs, Melody set aside her mending and looked through the window in time to see Glenn disappearing down the path with Teresa following. Melody took the stairs quickly, her step so light that she floated over the uneven wooden floors, the steep rise of the porch stairs, and down the slippery path that led from the main house to the river.

  That left six more people in the compound: two who were in Hours, the dedicated time of prayer, and Pea who was so extraordinarily blessed that she was Within and communing silently with God. Those people would not be expected to come running when Robert called because Hours and Within were sacred. There was also Foster who was with little Peter. The boy took advantage of Foster's distraction to run out of the schoolroom. Even Melody, who liked just about everyone, would not want to be stuck all day inside with Foster, so she couldn't blame Peter for trying to escape. Foster, though, managed to catch him and herd him back inside.

  The only one who didn't run was Duncan because it was Duncan's job to wait. He waited to see which way the wind blew, he waited for those who needed guidance to ask for it, he waited to be served at meals and to be wished goodnight. He waited for enlightenment and for discourse with Pea who imparted God's plan to him. Duncan kept order for them all.

  Still, Duncan was human and curious. Even he could not resist Robert's call or the commotion it caused. He left his time with Pea and came down the stairs just as Melody flew out the door.

  He went only as far as the porch, stopping at the top of the old wooden steps, leaning casually against the post, his hooded eyes trained on the people on the path. One hand was in the pocket of the jacket he favored and the other rested on his thigh. One booted foot was crossed over the other.

  Some took his calm for disinterest and others for arrogance. Some believed his eyes were covered intentionally to hide his slyness and his posture was a disguise to hide his dangerous nature. To some he was a curled snake resting under a rock coiled and waiting to strike whoever came within range. To others he was a stalking cat. To some he was a reptile with a poisonous, stinging tongue. To his followers, he was none of those things. He had rescued them, gathered them up, brought them to this place where they would face their sins, prove their worth and be healed. His half-mast eyes were like a confessional grate, obscuring the sinners as they poured out their pitiful hearts. They would never see judgment reflected in Duncan's gaze.

  Duncan watched them disappear into the woods. They were so like children, eager for an adventure, happy to forget their trials. Soon they would be rushing back up to show him what they had found. Duncan didn't even care what it was, as long as they brought it back to him.

  ***

  Melody looked back at Duncan. She thought their eyes met and that his softened. It was hard to tell, but sometimes Melody felt that Duncan did not want to be the one left alone. Still, he gave no sign that he wanted her to wait with him, and the lure of Robert's call was even greater than her longing to be important to Duncan, so she ran on. Melody was the last to reach him, but she heard Robert clearly when she did.

  "I have a girl. I have a boy. They're hurt. I carried her all the way. . .the boat. . . From the forest. . .God helped. . .but I saved them. . ."

  "Oh, my," Teresa said as she quickened her pace. "Robert you didn't."

  "Yes. All the way." Robert's big head threw itself forward and was almost too heavy to throw back again but he managed one huge nod. "I did. . .Maybe. . .She's dead. . .I carried her. . . ."

  "A girl and a boy?"

  Glenn asked this in the same way someone would voice amazement that twins had been born. But that was Glenn. He had long since stopped asking questions; now he only sounded as if he were asking them.

  "Who are they?" Melody's voice was not far above a whisper. Still, it was easily heard by those who had grown accustomed to it.

  "I don't know. I don't know!" Spittle flew from Robert's mouth, and his hands waved. He was missing one glove, and his exposed skin was raw with cold.

  "Where did you find them?"

  Teresa called over her shoulder as she moved ahead. Melody half skipped to catch up with her. Glenn kept pace. Robert, realizing he was going to be left behind when it was his right to show off what he found, tried to run. But he could not run and talk, so he talked loudly and walked briskly.

  "Four miles down river. They were in a truck smashed all to hell. . ."

  "Robert, don't swear," Glenn admonished, but Robert was beside himself and didn't hear.

  ". . . hurt so bad. . .one might be dead. . ."

  And so they went, the four of them, rushing down the road toward the dock: Teresa measured, Melody lightly, Robert lumbering, and Glenn skirting from side to side as if he hoped to find an opening that would allow him to take a lead he didn't truly want. Finally, they reached the boat that was piled high with boxes and bags, and things covered with tarpaulins. Some of it would be sold at the store to people who would arrive from somewhere and melt back in
to nowhere after doing their business; some would see the congregation through the winter.

  "There," Robert called from the rear and everyone stopped. "I didn't think the boat would make it. It did. There. There."

  One by one they saw what Robert was pointing to. They shuddered. They crossed themselves. They closed their eyes and opened them again.

  "Do you think you should have brought them here?" Glenn asked.

  No one had an answer to that question, if indeed it was one. The fact was that they were here, on the boat, at the dock. Teresa took Melody's arm:

  "Come along."

  Teresa got on the boat, turned around, and offered Melody a hand up. The younger woman gathered her long skirts and grasped the older woman's hand. Once on deck, Teresa hunkered down and pulled open the blanket around the boy.

  "Dear God," she exclaimed.

  She looked at the girl and her face went pale. Teresa had been a nurse's assistant in her life before this place and knew that the girl was in a very bad way.

  "He shouldn't have brought them here."

  "Where else would he bring them?" Melody asked as she crouched beside Teresa.

  "To the city. To a hospital," Teresa answered.

  "Robert couldn't have done that. It wouldn't have been good for him even if he knew how to do it." Melody lowered her voice and stole a look at the big man standing on the dock. "There would have been so many questions."

  "What about when these two are missed and people come looking for them? What if one of them dies and we have to bury them here? Nothing to be done about it now," Teresa said, and then she spoke to the boy. "Can you stand?"

  The boy said, "Take care of her . . ."

  "We'll take care of your friend. Just do what I ask. Do you understand? Do you hear?"

  He nodded. Teresa took his arm knowing that he didn't understand at all.

  "Take his other side, Melody," Teresa directed.

  Teresa put her free arm around the boy's waist. Melody did her best to do the same, but it was more difficult for her. They bent their knees, the boy rallied, and when Teresa gave three counts they rose up. He cried out, and Melody almost screamed herself.

  "Sorry, my boy. Can you walk?" Teresa asked. He nodded and Teresa turned him slightly. "Melody. Melody. Step slowly. Stand as straight as you can, girl."

  Melody did as she was told and they began their slow progress. Glenn and Robert helped them all to the ground, holding them upright until the boy was as steady as he could be.

  "Listen up, young man," Teresa said. "You're going to have to go up a ways. Do you understand? Do not faint on us."

  He nodded. He made noises. Teresa gave directions to Glenn and Robert.

  "Take the girl under the arms and at her knees. Always at the joints. Don't bounce her or pull her. Watch her head. We don't know if she has internal injuries or broken bones. We don't know about her neck."

  Eyes forward, Teresa gave the signal. She and Melody and the boy began to make their way back to the house: stopping, stumbling, and starting again. The boy's eyes rolled back in his head. He fought them a little because he wanted to stay with the girl, but that didn't last long. He was weak with hunger and pain.

  The men went faster with the girl because she was small and unconscious. When they were halfway to the main house, Duncan's hand came out of his pocket and he splayed his legs as if to protect the entrance. This cargo was not what he had expected.

  The men stopped. The girl was slung between them like a felled doe. The side of Duncan's mouth twitched. He looked at her for what seemed like an eternity as he tried to make out what this all meant. He couldn't. He needed time. He needed Pea. He said:

  "Take her all the way up."

  "Near Pea?" Glenn asked. "You want her near Pea?"

  Duncan nodded and stood aside. The men went up the steps and he called after them:

  "Lay a fire, Glenn. Make it a good one. She's near frozen."

  Teresa and Melody came to the porch with the boy, stopping as surely as if Duncan had blocked their way but all he had done was look at them squarely. His eyes went over the boy, top to bottom. His jaw set. Duncan listened to the boy's mumbling.

  Hannah

  Hannah

  Hannah

  "What's your name?" Duncan asked.

  "Hannah. . . okay?" The boy muttered.

  Duncan, came down the steps, the only sign of his impatience was in the sound of his boots hitting hard on the old wooden steps. Only Teresa noticed his mood, but that was not unusual. She was most familiar with his moods. Melody was overwhelmed when he put his hand on her shoulder and leaned closer to look at the boy. When Duncan reached for his broken hand, she was faint with the anticipation that the healing was about to begin. First this boy's hand would be healed and then Duncan would touch her arm, and then Teresa and. . .

  "Your name?" Duncan asked again.

  "Billy," came the answer and Duncan released him. It was only then that Billy Zuni moaned. He rolled his head, and his weight became almost unbearable for the women. He was not healed at all. His hand was still broken, and Melody was sorely disappointed.

  "He's going to pass out, Duncan." Teresa held tighter. Her arms were shaking; her back was sure to crack in two.

  "He'll be better in my house," Duncan said and stepped away.

  "Bless you, Duncan," Melody murmured. In all this time only she had been allowed in Duncan's house but only to clean. No one had ever been a guest.

  The two women and the hurt boy stumbled through the gloom of the early evening toward the small house while Duncan stood and watched. When he heard the door close, when he saw the women through the window settling the young man, Duncan put his hands back in the pockets of his jacket and shook his head, amazed at this turn of events. Then he looked up toward the third floor and realized he shouldn't be surprised.

  "The lord works in mysterious ways," he muttered.

  He would see the boy first.

  CHAPTER 5

  I see a bright light, a blinding white light, and a silhouette at the center of it. It undulates, fading and struggling back, unable to take shape. I would think this is heaven except that I'm pretty sure it's not. A loved one has to meet you at the Pearly Gates, and my list is short. Josie, Max, Faye. Archer or Burt might be good stand-ins, but I think it has to be a loved one who has passed and not just some you like a whole lot. This could be Billy except this person I see standing in the light is busy and seems to know what they're doing. Billy doesn't move like that. Still, if anyone's going to be dead I suppose it would be him. Then again, I doubt this is Billy because I don't love him. Not enough to meet him in heaven anyway. I love him just enough to watch over him on earth.

  I wish I could wake up. I would pray to wake up if I knew how to do that, but I don't. Not for myself, or for Billy, or anything. The busy angel beside me talks. I wonder if she's praying. If she's taking to God, I hope she asks him to just let me go. I'm kind of done with all this.

  The light is too bright.

  I close my eyes.

  It's dark.

  I am gone again.

  Maybe to heaven, but I doubt it.

  That would be too easy.

  "She's a colored." Melody held Hannah upright as Teresa washed her back.

  "She's mixed. It doesn't matter," Teresa muttered.

  "But it might matter, Teresa. How are we to know? We've never had a colored."

  "She's hurt, that's all that matters right this minute."

  Teresa sponged the blood encrusted cuts across Hannah's shoulders and the angry scrape at the small of her back. It was the injury to the back that worried Teresa most. If this girl's back were broken, it would be better if she died. Even Duncan couldn't heal that. Not that Teresa was truly convinced he could heal anything.

  "It's hard to tell what's blood over on this part of her shoulder what with that tattoo," Teresa said.

  "I've never seen anything like this," Melody whispered. "Not like this, with all the colors. Why would
she defile herself this way? Do you think her soul is lost, Teresa? Is that what this means? Does she worship the devil?"

  "Pay attention, Melody. Hold her tighter," Teresa ordered, tired of Melody seeing the devil in everything.

  Melody readjusted her grip. Her arm hurt, but she didn't complain. If she complained, she would be chastised; if she didn't complete her task, she would never earn her healing. They were all so close to it that no one could afford to mess up now. Still, it wasn't as if she couldn't talk and do her chore all at the same time.

  "Do you think it's wrong? Do you think it's sinful to do that to your body? I mean, we are God's temple, aren't we?" Melody asked. "Then again, if that's true, why would he have made us the way we are?"

  "Lower her down." Teresa directed. "Gently, gently. Good. You're doing well."

  "You'll tell Duncan I did this as well as anyone, won't you?"

  "If he asks," Teresa said.

  Melody slid her arm from under Hannah, happy that her skin was warm now. This room was never used and when they stripped away her clothes she had shivered so violently that Melody was sure she was in the death throes. But Glenn had laid his fire, Teresa massaged her, and Melody held her until it seemed the worst was over.

  "Well, do you?" Melody asked. "Do you think it's sinful to do that to your body?"

  "It's not for me to judge." Teresa looked up sharply. "It's not for you to judge. Do you hear me, Melody? It is not for you."

  "Should we worry that she hasn't opened her eyes?" Melody pressed.

  "Maybe. I'm surprised either of them are alive," Teresa muttered.

  "I think the boy is going to be fine. Do you think he loves her? He didn't think of anything but her. They must be lovers. I think it's wonderful . . ."

  "Melody! Please. There's more to do." Teresa lifted a thick cloth she had hurriedly put around Hannah's head wound. The blood started instantly. "Quick, quick, another towel."