couple of potatoes, and a little onion. I hope I can make them come out something like what you used to fix for me. I’m going a little early, tonight, my dear. I’m rather tired from this trial business. Sleep well, Unda,” he said, as he folded the article to fit in his pocket and pushed himself up. His shoulders drooped as he walked toward the cemetery gates.
Chester walked slowly to Unda’s grave. His chest hurt, and the fierce sun beat at him. “I’ve got the latest news, Unda,” he said. He flopped heavily on the ground. “This is what the computer said today.”
“August 14, 2003—The prosecution rested today. Defense Attorney Dayton Mann called Ms. Vanna Dee to the stand to testify in her own defense. She testified she had never hired Noah Count to attack either Ms. Mandor or her llamas. She admitted she and Ms. Mandor had been adversarial, in the past, concerning the murrelet habitat in San Danson Village. She pointed out that issue had been settled in administrative hearing before Judge Sauer some time ago. Mr. Mann asked her again, had she hired Noah Count to harm Ms. Mandor or her llamas? She categorically denied she had.”
“On cross-examination, Prosecutor Cooda elicited from Ms. Dee that she had been at odds for several years with Ms. Mandor. He asked her to testify about several incidents over the years where Ms. Dee had used her office to pressure Ms. Mandor and her Village tenants. When he pressed these issues with Ms. Dee, she suddenly exploded with anger, and accused Ms. Mandor and the San Danson Villagers of a persistent and long-term campaign to destroy her, Ms. Dee’s, employment and personal life. When Prosecutor Cooda asked her to name instances, she was unable to provide him with a coherent answer. After this testimony, Defense Attorney Mann rested the defense. Closing arguments will be heard tomorrow, in an unusual Friday session.”
“Ms. Dee really lost it on the stand today, Unda. She was doing fine answering Mr. Cooda’s questions when something snapped in her. She started screaming about the old lady and the people in the Village being out to destroy her. She completely lost it. I think she’d have confessed if Judge Sauer hadn’t interrupted and told the bailiff to bring her a glass of water. When Mr. Cooda started his questions again, she answered him in a dull voice. Sometimes she didn’t make sense at all. When Mr. Cooda was through, Mr. Mann rested for the defense. The jury should get the case tomorrow.” For a long time, Chester lay on his back staring up at the sky.
“It’s awful lonesome here, without you, Unda,” he said. “Even after three years I still go home hoping you’ll be waiting for me. Do you ever get lonesome, over there on the other side?”
He pushed himself up into a sitting position. Grass clippings clung to his shirt. He brushed them off. “Guess I’m some kind of fool,” he said. “Of course you don’t get lonesome. You’ve got God’s holy angels to sing with. Sing, Unda, sing loud and strong.” He turned to go, then turned back to leave his finger kiss on the marker. “Good night, Unda. Sleep safe.” He left the cemetery.
Chester trudged over wearily to Unda’s grave. He leaned against the marker with one hand and wiped the sweat away from his forehead with the other. “Seems extra hot today,” he said. “Courthouse was a furnace, Unda. I can rest now, though; it’s over, my big time on the jury. We started out the day listening to the attorneys again. Mr. Cooda made a strong case out of the evidence for Ms. Dee’s guilt. Mr. Mann got up then, and tried to make Ms. Dee out to be the victim, but after everybody saw the twisted hate on her face, I don’t think it washed much with anybody. This is what the computer said:”
“August 14, 2003—The Vanna Dee trial ended today. Ms. Dee has been found guilty. Both the prosecution and the defense kept their closing arguments brief. The jury deliberated for twenty minutes, before returning their verdict. Ms. Dee growled as the bailiff led her from the courtroom. Her attorney, Dayton Mann, said afterward that he would take the possibility of an appeal under advisement. Ms. Dee will be sentenced on September 22 of this year.
The Coastal Commission will meet next Tuesday with the Governor to determine a replacement for Ms. Dee on the panel that has oversight of the coastal beaches and wildlife habitat.”
“I won’t stay today, Unda. I’m so tired, for some reason. Maybe I ought to see the doctor next week. Can’t get my breath, sometimes. Now, don’t worry about me. I’ll be back to see you tomorrow. Sleep safe, love, sleep safe, here among the stone angels.” His arm shaking for no reason he could guess, Chester left his fingertip kiss on the marker and went home.
As August dwindled into September, he faithfully continued to visit Unda. “Got one more story from the trial, Unda,” he said one September afternoon. “It’s a little one. I cut this one out of the paper myself.” He drew in a deep breath and sat on the little camp stool he carried to the cemetery with him now.
“Las Tumbas Epitaph, September 22, 2003—Ms. Vanna Dee returned to Judge Sauer’s courtroom today to hear her sentence. The session was brief. Judge Sauer read the defendant’s list of convictions, and then asked her if she chose to appeal. She shook her head no. “I sentence you to five years, to be served at the El Serrucho Oxidado institution for hardened criminals.”
“What do you think of that, Unda? And I was part of it.” He closed his eyes, and dozed. Evening came on a warm breeze heavy with the scent of ripening apples. Chester murmured unheard words to the emerging stars and sighed. Unda waited for him.
“Las Tumbas Epitaph, September 23, 2003—Las Tumbas Last Resting Place Cemetery gardeners discovered the body of long-time Las Tumbas resident Chester Dross on his wife’s grave. Mr. Dross was known to visit his late wife’s grave on a daily basis. He apparently died of a heart attack last evening while visiting the cemetery. Police say no foul play is suspected. Arrangements are pending.”
Psyche to Psyche Combat
“Conflicts waged on the psychic planes are not spectator sports,” La Señora told Elke, Rosa, Willy, Dickon, and Ben when she briefed them on what she would need for protection when Vanna attacked. “Forces ethereal do not make good video,” she continued. “When one describes them, one uses metaphors. Indeed, one who struggles on the psychic plane does so in metaphors. The metaphor each combatant uses is particular to him or her. Thus one combatant may attack with a flock of gulls the other combatant perceives as a herd of buffalo.” La Señora smiled. “It can be quite confusing, if the combatants later try to describe events to the same third party.”
“I’m sorry,” Ben said. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” La Señora stared at her lap, looking for words, “that psychic battles can be described as a series of pictures, but the combatant doesn’t form pictures in her mind. It is the idea of the idea, or the form behind the idea, that one hurls at one’s foe.” La Señora looked humbly up at Ben. “It’s most difficult to explain this to a novice, or to one who has no conscious experience of psychic events.”
“It sounds a little like an idea Plato talked about that my philosophy professor, John Dilbert Doe went on about. I didn’t understand Plato, or Professor Doe, either.”
“Then let it pass,” La Señora said. “Just be prepared for me to become very still, almost as if I were dead. Then watch that nothing, not an insect, not an elephant, not a whirling cloud of dust, can get to me. Okay?”
“We’ll do our best,” Ben said. The others murmured consent.
“Thank you,” La Señora said.
After her sentencing, Vanna returned, under guard, to the Las Tumbas Incarceration Facility. Her escorts pushed her into her cell and locked the door. She rattled the bars a few experimental times, then, suddenly exhausted, lay down on her cot, wrinkling her black sheath. She stared at the speckled ceiling until she drifted into a trance.
La Señora retired to the library for an afternoon cup of tea. She expected an attack in the night, and had arranged for Elke and Rosa to sit with her. As she sipped her Darjeeling, she instructed them on their responsibility to guard her body against any physical intrusi
on. One never knew how many minions Vanna might field. It was quite possible to win a struggle on the psychic plane, only to lose it all because the one who fought the battle in a trance was unprotected from the dagger in the dark wielded by a cutthroat. Rosa armed herself with two rolling pins from the kitchen. Elke trusted her right arm to coordinate with her left arm. Each woman took up a chair on either side of La Señora. They sipped their tea and waited. As the sun slowly sank into the western sea, La Señora entered a watchful trance state.
When the night’s dark was complete, and the last pink shreds of sunlight had passed into the shadow of the turning globe, Willy, Dickon, and Ben stood watch with the llamas. The adults formed a ring around the unicorn with the unique horn and the crías. Each adult faced outward, ready to repel invasion. At equal one-third distances around the circle, Willy, Dickon, and Ben stationed themselves. They waited, alert, as the stars twinkled into being overhead. Tonight the moon slept, uncaring.
Vanna slipped further into her trance. She began to conjure destructive forces. To her mind’s eye, they appeared as beetles and slugs, foul creeping things fetid with diseases of the spirit. When she had amassed a sufficient number
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