earth.
AIt doesn=t matter, nigger,@ came a grave graveled voice from behind Leon, and a single shot rang out, followed by a huge pulpy hole that opened in Leon=s forehead. His body fell slowly forward, and I finally saw where the firelight flecked from the shiny black barrel, clutched in a gnarled shaking hand.
AYou killed my boy, you dirty dirty nigger,@ the voice said in a calm tone. It was followed by one gunshot after another into Leon=s slack-jawed corpse, until the gun clicked, clicked, and clicked again. I finally came from behind my tree, and approached the frail thing that was once the proud Devil chief, but Joseph, with fire in his eyes, beat me to him.
The gun clicked at Leon again, and Joseph asked with a harsh snarl, AYou done?@
ANot yet,@ said the chief, calmly but with rising anger,@ >cause apparently all you goddamned niggers ain=t fuckin= dead yet!@ With as much power as it had seemed he=d ever possessed, he rushed, his head smashing into Joseph=s midsection, a cloud of ash pluming with the force of their fall.
Joseph heaved once, and his mighty-thewed uninjured arm threw the mad Devil chief from him, almost as easily as I might swat away a fly. The chief rose to his knees, but got no further. With lightning swiftness, Joseph=s heavy-booted foot caught the Devil square in the rib, with the full force of Joseph=s impassioned anger to augment his terrible strength. I could hear ribs snap, and I thought I saw. . .
I flipped on my hefty handy-man flashlight, and shined it in their direction. Sure enough, I could see at least one of the Devil=s ribs -- I don=t know what happened to his shirt, what was left of it -- poking through his crushed chest, dripping with blood. Joseph grabbed the chief by the back of his neck, and lifted him into the air above his head, the Devil kicking and twisting feebly. In two strides Joseph carried him to the nearest tree, a cedar about half a foot across, and with five quick, sharp smashes, turned the chief=s thick skull into splintery pulp. Bone and brain fragments were stuck to the bare spot that had been worn through the bark.
Joseph contemptuously tossed the remains of the man into the thicket, wiped his hands on his shirt, and turned to me with a grin that was a curious mixture of silly, serious, and disturbed. ALets find some grub,@ he said with a throaty whisper. AI=m starvin.@
AI know what you mean,@ I said, almost, but not quite managing my own grin. We searched around, and all we could come up with was jerky, of one sort or another.
AYou first,@ I said, gesturing at our small pile of jerky-filled leather bags.
ALike hell.@
AI=m sure it=s safe enough,@ I said with an unconvincing smile. AYou don=t think they all eat poison, do you?@
AWhy don=t you try some and find out,@ he said with a nonchalant bow. ABe my guest.@
AHunting in the morning sound good to you?@ I asked.
AWorks for me.@
AI=ll get that trackin= device off of Leon. Might be the only one, and besides, we can follow our heat trail back to the complex with it.@
AYou do dat.@ Joseph said with a solemn harshness. AI=ll go da other way.@
AWhat?@ I asked with dull shock.
AJust kidding. Let=s go,@ he smiled.
AYou tired?@ I asked as we were about halfway back down the hill of the underground parking lot.
ASure am,@ said Joseph with a yawn. AYou remember which room had all dose beds in it?@
ANope.@
AShit. Guess we=ll have ta look for it.@ Joseph was quiet for awhile before he asked, AYou sure?@
AYep.@
* * *
I don=t know how many hours we slept, but I woke up feeling refreshed enough. The cot was sinful comfort compared to the rough hard ground, with trees as pillows, I=d been used to the past few days. I=d expected to hear Joseph snoring as he always does, but when I looked over to the three bunks he=d put together to sleep, he was sitting up, his head in his hands.
AJoe?@ I inquired tentatively. His startled jump was only a twitch. I could barely see the bloodshot whites of his eyes when he turned them toward me in the dim light coming from under the door.
AWhat?@ he asked in a calm low tone.
AWhat=s wrong?@
ANothin= I can=t handle. It=ll pass.@
AAlright holmes. You feel like explorin= those last few rooms? The other two staircases, and those rooms with the locks?@ I asked.
ASure. You still got de plastic explosives?@
AYes I do.@
AYou tink we should explore da other two staircases first?@ Joseph asked.
AWhy not?@
ALets go.@
We explored the second of the three staircases, and after we managed to turn the lights on, we discovered a storehouse of wealth.
ALook at all da goddamned bottles of wine and whiskey. I=ll be damned if I ain=t goin= ta get my drunk on. I=ll be damned! Let da drinkin= begin!@ said Joseph, excitement quivering in his voice.
Almost an hour later, we were drunk. I can=t really tell you how drunk I was, but I could barely walk, and Joseph kept falling into walls. We decided, each with about half a bottle of something in our hand, to explore the last staircase. It was a short set of stairs, but it took us something like forever to get down them, and not without minor injury. After the eternity it took to find the light switch, there it was, the object of one of my first visions, parked right where I should=ve remembered it would be, to blow my drunk mind.
AThe jeep.@ I said.
AThe jeep.@ mimicked Joseph.
Shiny gray paint, polished chrome wheel covers, and an electrical cord that ran from the engine to the wall. It was all as I envisioned, and remembered.
AOur way home,@ said Joseph. ATa my wife. Lovely Tomeka.@ His words didn=t seem so slurred anymore, and he seemed to be a little steadier on his legs. AWhere do ya tink dis leads ta?@ he said, motioning with a near-drunken fall toward the narrow roadway that led off to the left.
AProb. . .prob. . .probably to those big-ole doors we passed in that big-ole parkin= lot we wuz in, walkin= thruuue. . .@ and then I giggled. Hey, I was drunk, and hell, Joseph was gigglin= too.
ALes go.@ said Joseph. AI wanna go home ta my purty, be-u-tiful wife.@
AYou caint drive. Yer too drunk. Les go sleep this shit off first.@
AOk. Yer probably right.@
We made it back up the stairs, which wasn=t nearly as nerve-wracking as goin= down them was. On our way back to the bunks we passed the first of the doors with the code locks on them.
AWe sober enough to blow up these doors? I asked.
AYeah. Might as well do it now, >cause first ting when I wake up in da mornin= or afternoon or whatever it is I=m gonna get in dat jeep, and we gonna haul-ass back ta New Africa, and be heroes for all dis stuff we found. And rich too.@
AHmn,@ I mused. ANever thought >bout that. You right, though. You shole is rite!@ I said with a mock accent. ALet's blow >em to kingdom come!@
ABoom! Shaka-laka.@ When Joseph said it, it really did sound like a damned explosion.
We dug around and found more of what we needed, and finally wired all the doors to go at once, and sat back behind some heavy metal boxes on the far side of the room with the plunger. We=d wired the doors themselves instead of the locks, because we weren=t sure whether or not their destruction would trigger the doors open.
Apparently we=d done it right. Well, Joseph did. He=d been playin= >round with explosives since he was a child, or so he said. The explosions ended up making nice splintery fires that did no damage to the contents of the rooms. We discovered more dead monitors, and other machines I wasn=t familiar with, and what must=ve been at least three different detention rooms, one with barred cells, another with tables that had restraints, another with heavy steel doors that only had narrow slits near the floor. Some of the slits were open, some shut, and then there was the room with the chemical lab, and the one that looked like a private office, and then there was the room.
Along the walls of this room lay various parts and pieces that reminded me of the ancient science fiction stories I=d read at the Great L
ibrary in the city of Shakur, a city renown for its universities and old lore, the place I was born in, lived in, and would probably die in. There, too, I=d seen the ancient cartoons, which also reminded me of all the mechanical arms and legs and wires and heads, that lay cluttered on shelves along the walls, on the floors, on tables with the grotesque forms of unfinished robots. They reminded me somehow of gutted human corpses, decapitated, dismembered, like all the bodies of the dead Devils outside. . .
ADamn,@ said Joseph. AReminds me of da time my pops paid fifty bucks ta get me inta a movie house, once. It was an amazin= experience. I spent hours in dat place, goin= from one booth ta another, and I remember it almost like it was yesterday. It=s amazing, de tings dat=ll stick with ya. . . Damn, I tink seein= all dis shit is makin= me sober up a bit. Tumoc man, I saw dis one cool-assed show dat day, I tink it was called the, no. . .yeah! It was called da Transformers, and one called Battlestar something, where dese shiny silver robots was runnin= >round killin= all dese White Devils, but just like cockroaches, da robots could never kill >em all. . . Hell, I wonder if dey=ve got some finished ones behind dat door dere,@ he said, gesturing toward the heavy steel door in the corner of the room.
AYeah,@ I said, AI seen some shit like that at the library once. Maybe behind that door, huh? You seen any bolt-cutters around here? Look at all those heavy bars and padlocks on that door, negro. We ain=t got enough plastic-E left to knock it down, and besides, I wouldn=t want to disturb any of this shit in here,@ I said, looking around the room.
AWell,@ said Joseph
The Shaman Page 6
