by Steve Cash
The crowd went wild. Jack and Biscuit thought it was the best stunt they had ever seen. Ciela had her hands over her eyes, scared to death and unable to watch. Owen Bramley cleaned his glasses with a handkerchief and kept repeating, “Remarkable, simply remarkable.” Ray whistled as loud as he could and waved his beret. Carolina whooped and shouted, and Caine, who sat high atop Sunny Jim’s shoulders, pointed toward the sky and laughed and laughed. I turned to Opari and said, “Let’s go find Geaxi as soon as she lands. I’ve got to tell her that was amazing, then you can talk to her.”
“Yes, I agree,” Opari said. “She is something, no?”
“Yes,” I said, grinning and shaking my head. “She is something.”
Owen arranged for Opari and me to enter the hangar where the biplane would be parked and serviced. The area was off-limits to anyone but pilots and performers connected with the show. Owen walked with us through the maze of airplanes, pilots, and mechanics clustered outside the hangar. We attracted a few passing glances, but most were too busy to notice. Owen posted himself by a side door while Opari and I slipped inside. Immediately, we were disoriented. The hangar had been partitioned into three separate areas, divided by immense curtains of sailcloth, which were billowing and moving back and forth in the cavernous space. There seemed to be only three planes inside, but it was difficult to tell. We walked around the first curtain and I caught a glimpse of brilliant red just beyond the second curtain. “That’s her biplane,” I said.
We walked toward it. I could hear the big engine roaring. The other two planes were silent with no one in them or working on them. The second curtain swelled and waved from the force of the propeller’s blades. Opari and I slowly rounded the curtain and in a split second we were both reaching for our Stones. Ten feet from the red biplane, Geaxi’s pilot lay on the hangar floor facedown. He was either dead or knocked out. Beyond him, only five feet from the powerful propeller, two men had Geaxi wrapped inside a carpet, making it impossible for her to reach for her Stone or move anything but her head. They were holding her up and level, walking her toward the propeller, head first. The men wore dark suits and looked to be Maori tribesmen. They were both over six feet tall and heavily tattooed on their faces.
Geaxi either felt us or saw us the moment we saw her. She turned her head in the carpet and smiled. “Good timing, young Zezen!” she screamed.
The two men stopped and turned to look, but before either of us could use the Stone or say the words, two other men appeared from around the curtain behind us. One of the men, tall and skinny with the face of a boy, yelled out, “Look here now! What’s going on? What do you think you’re doing with that boy? Put him down or I’ll find the police!”
The two Maori glanced at each other, then without a word between them, put Geaxi down and walked away. They were not in a hurry and they were not frightened. They were professional killers and their plans had simply changed.
Opari ran to help Geaxi out of the rolled-up carpet. The two men and I followed and the shorter one climbed up the fuselage and jumped into the cockpit, shutting down the engine at once. As Geaxi got to her feet, the taller man asked, “Are you all right, kid?”
“Yes, I think so,” Geaxi said, glancing at me.
“Do you want me to get the police?”
“No, no, that is unnecessary,” Geaxi said firmly. She found her beret on the floor and quickly brushed it clean and placed it on her head.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Is Cooper alive?”
The other man checked on the pilot, who was regaining consciousness and groaning. “He’s going to have a hell of a headache for a while, but he should be fine,” the man said.
Geaxi looked up at the tall man. “I owe you one, Slim.”
“That’s all right, kid. Who were those fellows, anyway?”
“I have no clue,” Geaxi replied, then stared at Opari and me. “Perhaps my cousins know,” she said. “I will ask them.”
The tall man scratched his head and said, “Well, if you want me to get some help, I will, otherwise Bud and I will take Cooper to get some first aid.”
“Thank you again, Slim.”
“Anytime, kid. By the way, Bud and I came back here to tell you the ballet pose was something else.” He turned to me as he was leaving. “Your cousin is something else, isn’t he?”
“That’s for sure,” I said. “He is something else.”
After the two men escorted the groggy pilot away, I asked Geaxi who they were. She said the shorter man was Bud Gurney, a friend who had entered the parachute spot landing contest. The tall, skinny, boyish-looking one was his pilot. Geaxi said everyone called him “Slim,” but his real name was Charles Lindbergh.
“Are you unhurt, Geaxi?” Opari asked.
“Yes, of course,” Geaxi said and paused, looking into Opari’s eyes. “You saw the faces of the Maori?”
“Yes.”
“I know of only one tribe who tattoo their faces with such a pattern—the ‘po ngaru,’ the ‘night wave.’” She ripped the false mustache from her upper lip. “This is true, no?”
Opari nodded in agreement.
“And there is only one who employs this tribe—the Fleurdu-Mal.”
“No, there is another, Geaxi, though I am now certain she believes she is the Fleur-du-Mal.”
Geaxi looked puzzled. “I do not understand. Who is trying to kill me, and why?”
I interrupted. “The same one who murdered Unai and Usoa. It was not the Fleur-du-Mal. It was Ray Ytuarte’s sister, Zuriaa.”
Geaxi seemed unfamiliar with the name Zuriaa.
“She is also known as the ‘Pearl,’” Opari said.
“Ahhh,” Geaxi sighed, recognizing the name. “The Fleurdu-Mal’s rejected apprentice, no?”
“Yes, and mine in some ways, I am ashamed to say. Her mind has broken. We are all in danger.”
“But I never saw or felt anyone else in the hangar,” Geaxi said. “The two Maori were by themselves.”
“Yes, and this is…larritu… worrisome,” Opari said, glancing at me. “I am not sensing her presence; however, I am certain she is near.”
“Two birds with one Stone,” I said suddenly, not even realizing I said it out loud.
“You are not making sense, Zianno,” Geaxi said.
“Opari?” I asked. “Could Zuriaa have always known of the Fleur-du-Mal’s obsession with the ‘Prophesy’ and with Star?”
“Yes, it is possible. She was his shadow for many years.”
“If Zuriaa’s mind has…fractured, and part of her, or all of her, truly believes she is the Fleur-du-Mal, then that part would be in St. Louis for one reason—to kill Caine and determine his fate! That’s why she is not in the hangar!”
I spun on my heels and sprinted for the corner of the giant sailcloth curtain, pulled it back, and ran through the hangar, under the wings of the second biplane, then around the second curtain and back to the side door where Owen was waiting outside talking to a promoter. Opari and Geaxi were right behind, not even breathing hard. I waved for Owen to follow. We raced through mechanics and tools and ladders, taking a shortcut back to where Carolina and Sunny Jim and the others sat with Caine. The sun was low in the sky and I had to shield my eyes to find them. Finally, fifty yards away, I could see them through the maze of people and planes. We ducked under the wing of the last plane. They were sitting in a circle and they had a blanket spread between the folding chairs. Ciela was reaching in her basket, handing out pieces of chicken to everyone. They seemed to be moving in slow motion. Caine sat in Carolina’s lap and Sunny Jim sat next to them. He was showing Caine how to pound the pocket of Mama’s glove. He held Caine’s hands in his, guiding him. Then, in an instant, Ray leaped up in front of Caine. He screamed a name I had never heard before. He screamed, “Ikerne! Ikerne!” I looked to where Ray was looking and saw a paradox. Standing ten feet away with legs spread, facing Carolina and Caine, was the Fleur-du-Mal, except I knew it was not the Fleur-du-Mal. It was Zuria
a. She looked and dressed exactly like him, down to ruby earrings and ponytail with green ribbon. She had a stainless-steel throwing knife in one hand and her arm was cocked and ready to release. But she was frozen, mesmerized, staring at Caine and not blinking. Ray’s voice held her and the name he uttered had kept her from throwing.
“Zuriaa!” Opari yelled out. “Put the knife down! Now!”
Opari’s voice woke her. She blinked violently and gasped for air, then turned and stared at Opari. They locked eyes and I saw the vicious and fierce hatred in Zuriaa come alive. Her green eyes flamed with psychotic rage. Ray took a tentative step forward. She backed up instinctively, without looking at him, still focusing on Opari. Her throwing arm never moved or dropped. She took one more step back, then pivoted suddenly to find her target. She let the knife fly and it zipped past Ray’s head, directly toward Caine’s chest. In the same instant, Sunny Jim raised Caine’s hand and caught the knife in the webbing of Mama’s glove, six inches from Caine’s heart. A great catch from a good first baseman.
Just then the entire crowd around Lambert Field exploded with applause and a tremendous roaring cheer. Someone had made a perfect parachute spot landing in the center ring. Zuriaa yelled a phrase or a curse in Chinese, then turned and vanished, a blur of green and black and red.
“I’m goin’ after her,” Ray shouted.
“It is too late, Ray,” Opari told him and held his arm. “You will never find her. She has already planned her escape.”
“I think it is high time we leave this place,” Carolina said. She was still sitting in her chair, holding Caine to her chest with both arms around him.
“I think you’re right,” I said, looking directly into her eyes. I saw genuine fear and firm resolve. “I’m sorry, Carolina. You know I wish I could change things. This should never have happened.”
“Yes, Z, but as Opari just said—it is too late. Besides, all of this is not anyone’s fault. Now, let’s go home, and quickly.”
“Right, right,” Owen added, helping Carolina to her feet. Sunny Jim removed Zuriaa’s knife from Mama’s glove and handed both over to me. He said, “I won’t say a word about this, kid.” Jack and Biscuit helped Ciela with the baskets and blanket and all of us hurried through the crowd with Owen Bramley leading the way. Ray kept scanning the crowd for his sister. I had never seen so much concern in his eyes.
“What was the name you shouted to Zuriaa, Ray?” I asked.
“Ikerne,” Ray said quietly.
“Who is she?”
“Our mother.”
Geaxi’s wing walking “ballet” merited a small headline and story on page three of the Post-Dispatch. The headline read, “Spider Boy Spins Magic Over Lambert.” The writer had no way of knowing it was also the Great Geaxi’s final barnstorming performance. That same night, Opari, Ray, and I learned it was not a decision she made out of caution or fear of Zuriaa or her own death. Her decision to stop wing walking came from a completely different place. She said it was time for her to return to her true job—finding the Egongela, the Living Room, our “destination” as Sailor likes to call it. And she feared for Nova. Nova and Star were currently traveling in Scandinavia on a promotional tour. Geaxi wanted to warn Nova of the danger from Zuriaa in person. Nova needed to hear this information from her, she said, otherwise Nova might not take it seriously, or even care. Nova’s “visions” had become her obsession. When Ray heard this, he insisted on going with Geaxi. After that, he said, he would begin searching for his sister, Zuriaa. She had to be saved from herself, if possible…or stopped. Opari then insisted she accompany Ray. He would absolutely need her assistance to find Zuriaa, she said, and it was something she should have done long ago.
Opari looked at me. “You must remain here, my love, in St. Louis with Carolina and Caine. I am certain when Star hears of this incident, she will be returning. You must be a good shepherd for these good people, Z. Unfortunately, the Meq have once again brought terror and insanity into their lives. Now we must remove it.”
We were standing in the “Honeycircle.” There were only a few more minutes of daylight. I stared up at the big oaks and maples surrounding Carolina’s property. All were still in full leaf. A few were beginning to change color, showing hints of red, yellow, and gold.
“Zianno,” Opari said, “you are agreeing, no?”
“Yes, I am agreeing.”
Haste became essential. Not only had the Fleur-du-Mal proved himself obsessed and unpredictable, but now his living ghost, Zuriaa, had entered the equation. Nova and Star were vulnerable. They must be told as soon as possible.
Events happened quickly. Opari and I had little time to say good-bye. Three days after the air show, Ray, Geaxi, and Opari boarded a train in Union Station bound for New York. Geaxi wore her black beret and Ray wore Kepa’s old red beret. Their Meq presence seemed to glow, at least to me. Ray and I rarely said good-bye and this was no exception. I reminded him to tell Geaxi and Opari about Susheela the Ninth and the Octopus.
Geaxi heard me and asked, “By the way, young Zezen, how was Africa?”
“Complicated,” I said.
“As always, as always. There is something you must see, Zianno. I will leave it with you for study. Nova saw a clear image in one of her ‘visions’ and I asked her to write it down.” Geaxi handed me a sheet of paper with two intersecting lines of written script in the shape of an X. The script was the old Meq script that only I could read. I translated it instantly. The lines intersected through the word “in.” They read, “The Son is in the Daughter, The Daughter is in the Son.”
“Where were these lines in her ‘vision’?”
“Floating. Floating in water.”
“What do you think it means?”
“I will leave that to you, and Sailor when I see him,” Geaxi said, then adjusted her beret and headed for the train.
Opari and I embraced on the station platform. It was not a common embrace of twelve-year-old children, and much too passionate for a brother and sister, but we were oblivious to the comments and stares we might have caused. I wonder if there is a word for a singular force and living bond beyond lovers and friends? If so, we were there, we are always…there.
Early the next morning I had a dream. I was riding bicycles with Sunny Jim Bottomley and Carolina and the Fleur-du-Mal. The Fleur-du-Mal was smiling. His teeth sparkled. Carolina was twelve again and wearing a yellow dress. Her hair was blond and stringy. Sunny Jim wore his Cardinals uniform and cap. He said, “Come on! This way!” He led us into Forest Park, but it was an area I had never seen. The street signs were written in Meq. “Where are we?” I shouted ahead. The three of them were pedaling up the hill in front of me. They didn’t answer and none of them turned around. They crested the hill and I put my head down, pedaling furiously, trying to catch them. My bicycle began to wobble and shake. The spokes bent and twisted and popped loose, flying in all directions. “Wait! Wait!” I yelled. “Come on, Zianno, hurry!” Sunny Jim shouted from over the hill. “Come on! We’re going to Ithaca!”
I opened my eyes.
“Come on, Zano, come on! Wake up, Zano!” It was Caine. He was at eye level and shaking the bed. His dark hair was tousled and tangled from sleep. I remembered his mother waking me in just the same way to go to the World’s Fair. She had called me “ZeeZee” that fateful morning.
“Pancakes,” Caine said. “Granny made pancakes.” He tugged on me and smiled, showing the gap between his two front teeth, which were still baby teeth.
His smile and voice brought on a wave of emptiness and sadness I could not explain or hold back. It was strange. I knew the sudden departure of everyone was not the reason. The reason was a state of mind common to many Meq, more like an infinite ennui that appears out of nowhere. Opari had warned me of it. For the Meq, she likened the experience to a “time disease.” It comes on suddenly and has no focus or form, but if left unchecked, can feed like a virus on the weeks, months, and years to come.
Luckily, my spirits lifte
d only a few hours later. The date was October 10, 1923. The World Series was beginning in New York between the Yankees and Giants at Yankee Stadium and it was the first time a World Series game was broadcast coast to coast on radio. We gathered in front of Carolina’s big Edison radio and it seemed like magic to hear a play-by-play broadcast all the way from New York. That was the first thing to make me feel better and I knew it would. The second I never expected and it has never been explained to me since. Maybe it had something to do with Zuriaa’s return, but whatever it was, it was a miracle to all of us, especially to the skinny, dark-skinned orphan, now seventeen, from the streets of New York, renamed Oliver “Biscuit” Bookbinder.
Carolina and Ciela (in Spanish) had always included and spoken to Biscuit as if he were an active part of any conversation. However, Biscuit had not spoken a word and remained mute ever since he witnessed Unai and Usoa’s murder on the Orphan Train. He and Jack were best friends and went everywhere together, but Jack did all the talking. Carolina taught him a similar kind of “no speak” communication she and Georgia had developed naturally. Sunny Jim didn’t speak to Biscuit at all when he visited. He didn’t have to. Baseball did it for him. For a boy his age, Biscuit was one of the best fielding shortstops I had ever seen. Sunny Jim spent hours with him and taught him every fundamental of the game. Their conversations together were a pleasure to watch, full of silent power, grace, and balance.
