I say, “You really think she’d just abandon a Jeep?”
“In the face of God’s wrath, it’s not unusual for many to shed their material possessions. The physical world is a shackle itself, binding us to this unclean place. Even our bodies are nothing more than rotting prisons from which only death, the great liberator, can finally free us.”
Max says, “See, now that’s something I know a bit about. My dad just got liberated a few days ago.”
Mother Evangeline asks, “And how did this come to pass?”
“Cancer. In his pancreas. Around Memorial Day, he noticed he was losing some weight. By July Fourth, he was admitted to the hospital. He never left.”
Plucking a tissue from the box on her bed, Mother Evangeline looks at the coffin. She wipes her eyes, then turns back to Max. “You have our condolences and sympathies. The path God asks us to walk is not without sorrow. The great rupture of death shatters our lives. Isn’t that your experience, young Eli?”
I’m caught off guard, but I recover quick enough. “My experiences aren’t something that need concern you.”
“I do not judge you like the others. Quite the opposite. Aloysius has stayed behind with me, much the same as your sister’s spirit has lingered.”
Max asks me, “What’s she talking about?”
I’m not sure what to say, and Judge jumps in. “Your boyfriend didn’t tell you his sister’s ghost follows him around? Years back, she took a tumble off that lighthouse where you two were making naughty.”
I grab the washbasin off the bed and swing it into Judge’s face. It catches him flush on the cheek with a satisfying clank. He recovers fast and lifts the rifle up like a bat.
Mother Evangeline yells, “Not in the Lord’s home!” and Judge freezes.
There’s an odd stillness then, and I can see in Judge’s face that his pride was stung when I caught him off guard. Finally, it’s Max who speaks. “We weren’t making out,” she says. “Anyways, we aren’t talking about Eli and his sister or whatever. We’re talking about me and my dad. His ashes are in a shiny silver can that was in the Jeep. I want it.”
Mother Evangeline nods as she processes this. “The trophy? Yes. Charity brought that to me earlier. We were curious about what it was, and she’s quite fond of it.”
“Where is it now?” Max demands. “It’s mine.”
But Mother Evangeline looks over at the coffin. “Be patient, Aloysius. I will ask her.” She smiles at Max. “Do you ever have strange dreams, child? Waking dreams that speak to you of the future?”
“Can’t say I do. Sounds like a hoot and a half, though. You going to tell me where my dad is, lady?”
Judgment leans toward her. “You’d best learn to tame that tongue. Or somebody’s likely to tame it for you.”
“Just give us our stuff,” I say.
The tone in my voice must be enough for Judgment, who swoops in behind me and grabs hold of my shoulders. Mother Evangeline lifts up a plump hand, and I say, “Let us take what’s ours and we’ll drive out of here, never look back. I’m trying to get this girl off this island before that storm hits. I don’t even know what time it is, but it’s got to be getting late in the afternoon. That iron bridge goes up at five. Trouille told you all this, right?”
Mother Evangeline nods her head as if listening. She glances toward the coffin and grins. Finally, she says, “We cannot overlook God’s providence. He provides for His children the things that they need, even when they, in their eternal ignorance, don’t comprehend His divine and holy plan. God put that Jeep in the path of my family because we have need of it. Returning it to you now would violate God’s plan, and so I cannot do that. Also, I cannot allow you to leave this place because God wants us to face the storm together.”
Max rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “I take it God tells you His plan.”
“God reveals His plan to all who listen. But through His grace, I have seen that which lies ahead. You have visited me before, girl, with your green hair and your venomous words. In my visions of what is to come, I have foreseen our shared fate. We are bound together. Only the most foolish try to resist the will of God.”
I can’t believe this. All my life, I heard the Odenkirks were a bit extreme, sure. But what I’m seeing today, the way she’s talking, it’s a whole other level of nutjob.
“What you fail to realize is that you stand on holy ground. This church was sanctified by my ancestors, who watch over us still. My great-grandmother was blessed by visions that brought her and her followers to this place from this country’s farmlands. But the children of their children were weak, and in their weakness, they abandoned God’s gift and fled this island. They betrayed their blood and denied their destiny. They failed their test, and now God, in His infinite mercy, has given us a chance to make amends. He has spoken this truth to me that we face a trial. It may come to pass that His wrath will claim these homes. I know the waters may rise up. But He will spare the island. And the faithful who remain shall bear witness to His greatness. They shall be lifted up and considered His most favored servants.”
Soon as Mother Evangeline finishes her mini sermon, Max goes to speak, but I cut her off. “It’s no use, Max.”
But Max can’t help herself. “You’re telling me you’re going to risk the lives of all your kids on account of what a bunch of dead people did? Lady, that’s ancient history.”
Mother Evangeline strains to sit forward. “The past is never the past. The dead don’t never die. We are chained to what was, the same as our souls are chained to the flesh.”
She’s quiet now, and there’s only the wind outside and the rain splattering on that blue tarp draped over the Airstream’s poor excuse for a roof. The hole above us is big enough that if God reached down, He could pick Mother Evangeline right up. Her gaze slides from Max to me. “Would you, blessed by visitation from your own departed sister, deny the truth of my words?”
Judge and Max wait for me to speak. The camper shimmies in a strong gust, and I look down at the unsteady floor. “I got nothing to say.”
Mother Evangeline seems to consider this. Then she says, “Very well. I am grateful for this chance to visit. Some of my children are preparing a great feast, which we’ll enjoy together in the church. With the glory of what’s to come, a celebration is called for. For now, you both have much to contemplate.” She lifts that thick chin toward Judge. “Take them to the tent. Then check on the others. Be certain your sister is all right and that her work is proceeding.”
Judge aims the Remington toward the door, but I don’t move. “Mother Evangeline,” I say. “I’m good with machines. I could help your daughter with whatever she’s trying to get running.”
Mother Evangeline tilts her chubby head toward the coffin and nods. “We see your true plans, boy. Sabotage and flight. It’s more difficult than that to deceive those who stand with God.”
I shrug. Honestly, I was trying to help save them too.
Judgment ushers us toward the curtained exit. But at the threshold, Max puts a hand on the frame. She turns back to Mother Evangeline and says, “What is it exactly you want me to contemplate?”
“The coming of the King, child. He descends upon us with the storm, with the wind and the rain. He comes to test our resolve and sound the depth of our faith. And I for one will not be found wanting. You must decide for yourself how best to prepare. The day of reckoning is at hand, and you and I are surely fated to confront it side by side.”
PRODDING THEM WITH THE BARREL OF HIS RIFLE, JUDGE marches Max and Eli back across the compound, hobbling crookedly behind them in the steady rain. When Max looks at Eli, he seems preoccupied with a sound coming from a slanting barn down below, a whining grind of an engine that won’t crank over. The wind blows a ragged kite along the ground, and it reminds Max of a wounded bird struggling to take flight. Max is amazed by all the junk and crap scattered everywhere. She can imagine a time when the buildings of this bizarre compound may have been sturdy and proud, b
ut that was decades ago. Now, with the rot and mold, Max is pretty sure they can’t be salvaged. Could be a case where tearing them down is the right thing, starting with a clean slate.
At first, she’s not sure why this thought brings Angie to mind. Max remembers how badly she treated that woman when she first began dating her dad. The nasty looks and the snide comments about her appearance, her youth, those goofy AA coins she was so proud of and that shiny gold cross she always wore. Max couldn’t believe someone could be so sincerely optimistic, though she’s pretty sure that stealing the urn will have wiped that ever-present smile from Angie’s face. But just now this notion gives Max no pleasure, and some part of her wishes she could go back in time and have a fresh start.
The truth is, as much as Max hates to admit it, Angie was good for Max’s dad. She helped him stay away from the booze and used her contacts as an interior designer to get him some good upscale reno jobs. But Max begrudged the way Angie would always ask about her schoolwork, her grades, and her plans for life after high school. Max was certain that Angie’s lectures about college were motivated by a desire to ship her off, out of state even, just to have Max’s dad to herself.
At the edge of the Odenkirk compound, Judge takes them through a ring of log cabins to a tent just inside the tree line. Max sees some kids up on the porch out of the rain, watching them as they go. She wonders where they came from, where their parents are.
Without meaning to, Max lets this troubling thought slow her pace, and Judge jabs her in the lower back with his rifle’s butt. She trudges on.
Inside the tent, Judge makes them stand back to back and binds their wrists, then ties them together. He steps back to admire his handiwork and says, “I’d set you face-to-face, but then there’s no telling the kind of trouble ya’ll would try to get into.” Eli says something Max doesn’t quite hear, and Judge kicks him hard in the hip, toppling them both to their sides in the dirty grass. As he leaves, he says, “Be nice and maybe we’ll take you with us.”
Once he’s gone, the two of them wriggle until they’re at least sitting up, backs pressed together. Max has so many questions—about Eli’s sister, her fall from the lighthouse, the haunting that apparently followed—she’s not sure where to begin. But she finally chooses a more recent curiosity. “What do you think Baldy meant by that?”
She can feel Eli’s hands trying to undo the knots. After a bit, they go still, and he says, “I knew there was a difference between crazy and stupid. Down at that barn, they got a couple vehicles, I figure. They’re working on some way of getting the family off this end of the Shacks. The land out here is practically below sea level. When that storm surge hits, it’s sure to flood. I just can’t reckon how they expect to move Big Momma. It doesn’t look like she gets out much these days.”
“Who cares about Big Momma? Or any of them? Let’s make a break for it. That tent flap isn’t locked.”
She hears Eli sigh. “You want to go for a six-mile hike in a hurricane tied back to back? Maybe I’m the first to tell you this, girl, but you got a serious problem with impulse control. What we need is a plan, first part of which might be getting free.”
She feels him tugging again at the knots, and she starts doing the same. But Judge spent a while with the ropes, and they seem tight as cords. When Eli finally stops, she asks, “How’s your face feel?”
He leans his head back onto her shoulder. “About like a piece of stomped meat. Last thing I remember is running from those hogs. What happened after I was out?”
Max pictures the hounds, how they snapped and snarled at the great boar and tore it to shreds. She had never seen anything die before, and the beast fought till the bitter end. The way that razorback whinnied and wailed, it reminded her of a child’s cry. The whole way back to camp, the brothers kept the dogs on leashes, but they strained against them, lunging at Max. Now and then here on the compound, she’s heard their raucous barking. She won’t admit it, but she’s terrified of them.
Instead of telling Eli any of this, she says, “What you’d expect. They killed those hogs, then dragged us back here. Judge carried you over a shoulder. He’s one strong SOB.”
“Thing about big guys like that, they aren’t used to being hit. If you can tag him good in a fight, just sting him, it tends to screw with their minds. You see his face back in Mother Evangeline’s bedroom?”
She relishes the memory, wishing only that she had flung that pan at the big man herself. Speaking back to back with Eli feels strange but nice. Max eases her head onto his shoulder and rests it there, just as he’s doing, so they’re cheek to cheek, looking up into the tent’s darkened peak.
“I never should have brought you here,” he says. “It was a dumb idea.”
“Dumb for sure,” Max tells him, “but tell the whole story now—the idea was mine.”
“No. I knew who these people were. We should’ve just hiked up to the bridge. Who knows? By now, maybe we’d be across the intercostal.”
“What time do you think it is?”
“Hard to tell with the storm blocking the sun, but if I had to guess, around three maybe? Four? How should I know? I’m the one who was knocked out, right?”
Max laughs gently. Outside the tent, they hear two voices pass by, and Eli smells cigarettes. After the voices are gone, Eli says, “Okay, now. If we’re going to get out of this, you need to trust me. Don’t forget our deal. I lead and you follow.”
“I’m not so good with the trust thing. Everything about this is so royally freaking wrong. What’s up with Aloysius?”
“You saw that coffin, yeah?”
“I did,” she says. “I was really hoping I had that wrong.” And she hesitates, worried that if she goes on, she might isolate her one ally. “I want to trust you, Eli. I do. I need to, I think. I just … ”
He lifts his head from her shoulder. “What? You got something to say, say it.”
Max takes a breath but stays silent. Angie was always urging Max to “express your feelings, especially the bad ones.”
Eli says, “Listen good. You and me, we got no time to get to know each other, and we don’t have to be best friends. But if we aren’t straight with each other and don’t work together, the future looks short and ugly.”
“All right,” Max relents. “The brothers, the way they talk about you being messed up in the head. And Mother Evangeline made that crack about you being acquainted with the dead.”
“So?”
“So what’s up with your sister?”
The wind sucks at the sides of the canvas tent. She hears him exhale. Then he asks, “You’re upset that these crazy people think I’m crazy? All the problems we got on our plate, and that’s the thing that’s got your stomach in a knot?”
Max inches her tied hands along the ground, awkwardly craning one arm so she can get a grip on Eli’s fingers. She squeezes and says, “I just want to know who I’m dealing with here.”
As much as he can with the ropes, he yanks his hand from hers. “You’re dealing with Eli LeJeune, the Official Lost Cause of Shackles Island. Six years back, my big sister Celeste and me were up at the lighthouse in the crow’s nest, right where you and me were.” He pauses and takes a big breath, and Max wonders if she heard that right, that Eli’s sister shares a name with the hurricane. But that doesn’t seem nearly as important as the weight of the words she can tell are coming next. His voice is barely a hush when he says them. “She went over the side, down onto the rocks. Figure since then I haven’t exactly been real good company.”
Max pictures that lonely lighthouse. She’s still not sure what business Eli had up there in the storm—she can tell there’s more to this story—but she’s closer to the truth now. The silence from Eli is heavy, and she turns her face to the side to say, “I’m so sorry.”
Still looking away from her, he huffs, sniffles, then clears his throat. “No point in you apologizing. Nothing you did wrong.”
Max feels like she may be trespassing now, but his voice
is thick with hurt. And somehow, this conversation, this sharing of secret things, is easier when they can’t look at each other. She asks, “But you, you think you did wrong, don’t you? I can feel it. How come?”
“What’s it matter to you?”
In this crazy place, where it seems like the world really may come to an end, it feels easy to let some secrets slip. “I got guilt of my own,” she says. “Know how I told you about my dad’s dying wish to have his ashes spread?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s not entirely one hundred percent accurate.”
“You care to give me a math lesson?”
She closes her eyes. “Well, it’s true that I finally visited him when he was sick and dying in that hospital. My stepmom had told me about this bad final turn he’d taken, said he was asking about me. But I was so angry and mad still, guilty too, I just didn’t want to face him.”
“Guilty for what?”
So many examples crowd her mind. Quitting the basketball team. The nose studs. The time she stole Angie’s phone just for spite. But one example presses forward. “I dyed my hair green the morning my dad and Angie were getting married.”
“No you didn’t,” Eli says.
“Did too. Just to be sure everybody knew how I felt.”
“Were they upset?”
“That’s just the thing. My dad sort of snapped, but Angie put a hand on his shoulder, told him it was nice I was putting effort into finding my own look. Of course, that just pissed me off more, so I sulked up the aisle in my stupid gown and sighed and huffed through most of the ceremony … right up till that moment when the pastor asks if anyone has reason these two shouldn’t be married.”
“Get the heck out,” Eli says, letting loose a chuckle.
“I didn’t actually say anything. I just stood up and walked out—dropped my bridesmaid’s flowers in the aisle and everything. My dad followed me out into the parking lot and put the ceremony on hold for fifteen minutes. I refused to go back inside.”
Into the Hurricane Page 7
