The Son of Man 2, Elders of Zion

by C. W. Johnson

  "Yeah…" Todd said, still trying to control his mounting passion, "a few weeks after we got here. They didn’t join up with those of us coming from Nebraska I know that… maybe they’re from California."

  "What’s wrong with her?" Maria said.

  "Gladys thinks she has CreutzJake."

  Maria gasped "No…CreutzJake here? Isn’t that contagious?"

  "Well not…usually. It’s a form of encephalitis, closer to mad cow disease… usually picked up through bovine spongiform enceph—"

  "You trying to seduce me with your big sexy words, Doctor?" Maria asked softly. She gently leaned towards him, flashing him yet again.

  He cleared his throat and sat up slightly. "Anyway, it’s…a…scary stuff. We had to tie her down to a bed to keep her from harming herself. She’s like some kinda’ rabid dog, I swear—"

  Maria’s sly smile pulled Todd’s mind away from the conversation. She slowly eyed his body and looked back at him beneath long sweeping lashes. She pushed forward slightly…another flash.

  "Hmm?" she asked seductively. "I didn’t catch that. What were you saying?"

  Todd gulped and, with the back of his hand, wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Uh… oh… yeah…Vicky Tanner, she was, uh… she was raving on about seeing dark things in the trees or something. Bob said she wasn’t like that before the day."

  Maria sat on the bed and began rolling her hand over the blanket covering his knee. After a time she looked up at the window and sat staring out beyond the backyard fence into the steep timber covered mountain range rising high into the afternoon sky. "I saw someone up in the meadow this morning; a man. I could tell he wasn’t from around here."

  Todd frowned."What was he doing up there?"

  "I don’t know. He was yelling. He was up there by the hollow where Louis shot that big deer—"

  "Yelling?"

  "Yeah," she said, glancing back at him.

  "What was he yelling?"

  "I think… he didn’t want me to go into the trees… or something."

  "What?"

  "Whoever he was, he didn’t come down. I waited on the bluff for a long time. He couldn’t have come down here without me seeing him from the bluff."

  "Still," Todd said, "we’ll go up and check it out." He rose in an effort to roll out of bed, but Maria moved and stopped him once again.

  She sat in silence smiling down at him. Finally she spoke. "I love you so much, Todd."

  Todd looked at her and grinned. "What kicked that up?"

  "You love me?" she said.

  "Is a frog’s butt watertight?"

  Maria giggled. "Todd, I’m trying to be romantic here."

  Todd reached up and pushed a lock of hair away from her face. "You know I do."

  "But does it, like, almost hurt inside, like you can’t seem to get... close enough to me?"

  "Uh huh."

  "Does that feeling ever go away? Do you ever really get close enough?"

  "Haven’t yet," Todd said smiling.

  Maria slowly pulled the covers away and began gently rolling her finger over his belly. "Not much of a talker today, are you?"

  She kneeled on the bed, straddled him, and began unbuttoning her old oversized shirt.

  "Maria, hold up," Todd moaned. "Now… don’t be teasin’ me. I can’t—" his words trailed off as he watched the shirt slowly fall away.

  "I want you to teach me how to make love to you," she said.

  Todd lay on the bed, longingly looking up at her. He took her face in his hands. "Maria," he groaned, pulling their foreheads together, "Please baby—please don’t do this to me. If we start, I don’t think I can stop again—"

  "It’s been almost three months since the baby was born," she said softly. She was trembling, tenderly moving, pressing ever closer.

  Todd pushed her away. "Maria, stop!"

  Maria pulled back. She put her hand to her mouth and stared down at him. "But…I thought—"

  Todd sat up and rolled her off him. He left her on the bed and went in search of his pants.

  Maria quickly sat up, replaced her shirt and began buttoning it. "Todd?"

  Todd ignored her, snatched his pants from a drawer and moved to the bathroom.

  "Todd?" Maria called.

  Todd stepped into their tiny bathroom, pushed both hands into the rusting bucket next to the sink and sloshed cold water onto his face. He stood staring at his dim lantern-lit reflection in the mirror, watching the water drip down his chest. He had to try and deal with this, to dissipate this familiar all-consuming fire. He was a man, after all, married to the most beautiful woman he had ever known. He loved her beyond reason, but he also knew from experience that her love talking didn’t include love making. Her tender cuddling was not to be confused with foreplay. It was the great Maria Rose enigma… At pulling a man in, she was to the manor born, but let him pull back, and she’d knock his whiskers off. They even had a term for it…asexual.

  He raked a towel over his face and tossed it in the corner of the counter.

  "Todd?"

  He turned to see Maria standing at the bathroom door. Her eyes were wide. "What’s wrong?" she said softly.

  Todd shook his head and returned to his reflection in the mirror. "God knows I love you, baby, but I hate what you do to me. Everything has been fine since the baby was born but it’s starting all over again. You come to me, get me all stirred up, then push me away. It happens every time. If you want something, why don’t you just—"

  "That’s what you think?" Maria yelled. She quickly covered her mouth and peeked around the corner. Satisfied the baby was still asleep, she turned back. "You think I want something?"

  Todd moved to leave, but Maria stepped into his path. "Where are you going? We have to talk about this."

  "We have talked about this," Todd said. "We’ve jostled and fought about this till we finally settled on some compromise or… understanding, which is fine. But why do you have to make it so damn hard? You have no idea what you do to me when you do this. It’s all I can think about for weeks afterwards—"

  "Todd!" Maria interrupted, pulling him out of his tirade. "People change! How could you not see how much I’ve changed? I’m up every morning at sunup taking care of the baby. I wander all over the mountains with Nigel each week, checking up on people in the cabins. I help you and Gladys with your rounds. Louis and I set up the generator at the clinic by ourselves…just me and old man Louis! Together you and I helped all those people coming in from Nebraska — We made the trip from Nashville together, remember? I gave birth to a child and I… honest to God… fell in love with you. I love you and the baby so much! You’ve changed… why not me? How could you possibly think I’m still that prissy little brat back at UCLA?"

  Todd looked at the floor and back at her. "You’re right," he said softly. "I’m sorry… I just—"

  "I don’t want to hear how sorry you are, Riley," Maria said, holding up her hand. "I don’t want to hear any excuses. I just want sex and I want it now."

  Todd backed up and raised his eyebrows. "You mean it? You really…"

  Maria leaned forward and stared up at him. "Now!" she demanded.

  Todd moved to her and easily lifted her into his arms. He quickly made his way back to the bed and placed her there, stepped back and began fumbling with the zipper of his pants.

  Maria sat up in the bed. "Let me." she said impatiently.

  They both wrestled with the zipper till it finally yielded.

  ~~~

  Lylya, the child with strange eyes, slipped off the pile of burlap she had been sitting on and moved to her mother. A moment earlier, the atmosphere had been festive, but now something seemed terribly wrong. Days earlier, friends and relatives had arrived from all over Grozny in preparation for Ramadan, the month of daytime fasting. Some had come from as far away as Dagestan and North Ossetia. Lylya’s older Brother Abbas and his wife Aisha had traveled from Aldy, bringing with them their two children, Kheda and Sharpuddin. Since then, Lylya and Khe
da had been inseparable.

  Lylya sat silently staring up into her mother’s tear covered face. She pulled her black hair away from her eyes and glanced around the dimly lit room at the other women’s crying faces. Grandmother Satziyta had begun quietly reciting a poem, something about the mountains. Everyone was crying, and Lylya had absolutely no idea why.

  Her cousin Kheda quietly moved to her side. "This poem," she whispered, rolling her eyes, "every time they hear it they cry. They could hear it a thousand times and still they would cry."

  Lylya’s mother looked down at the whispering children and wiped her eyes. "You two go out of here. Go outside. Play in the sunshine for a change and relieve us of your constant chattering."

  "You should make them stay," Grandmother Satziyta said, dabbing at her face with the sleeve of her discarded cloak. "They are almost women now. Look at them. They need to learn what it is to be Chechen."

  Lylya’s mother frowned and looked away."They will learn soon enough, Mother. There are few things shorter than a Chechen childhood."

  "Are they to wait then until they are developed before they learn the ways of a good Muslim woman?" Grandmother Satziyta said, pointing at the two girls. "Look at them. They are already beginning to show their womanhood. And that one…." she motioned towards Lylya. "She should cover those eyes. They are…unnatural and…alluring. Those two should be preparing, yet you send them out amongst the men to play."

  The two girls flushed bright red and looked away from each other.

  "Mother," Lylya’s mother said, horrified, "they are only eight years old. Let them be children."

  Grandmother Satziyta glared down at the girls. "Remember, daughter, Aisha was only nine years old when the Prophet Mohammed took her to be his wife. If you do not teach them the ways of God, the holy law of sharia will."

  "Thank you, Mother!" Lylya’s mother shouted. "The children are unhappy and crying. You can finally be content." She pushed the girls towards the door. "Go now, children, before your grandmother has you preparing for your old age and burial. And be back within the hour. It is getting late, and I don’t want you out after dark."

  The two girls quickly moved out of the dark single room basement apartment and ran up the short flight of stairs leading into the tiny, sparsely populated, suburban Grozny neighborhood number one. At Kirov Street they turned left. Running hand in hand, they turned at the first right onto Khankalskaya Street, turned right again, and stopped at a large pile of trash that had accumulated near the end of a tiny cluttered alleyway.

  They looked about them carefully, making certain they weren’t being observed, quickly lifted a piece of black plastic and disappeared into a large wooden box hidden within the trash.

  Once inside the box Kheda reached into her clothing and produced an ancient homemade candle melted countless times in the bottom of an old crudely hand-blown glass jar. She put the candle in the corner of the box and pulled out a book of matches. Within moments, a soft glow illuminated the young faces.

  "Did you bring it with you?" Lylya said.

  Kheda pursed her lips and soundly brushed her hands off. "I have it, but let’s not have it yet. First we will get comfortable."

  The two girls pushed back and animatedly stretched their spindly legs to the limits of the box, adjusting and re-adjusting until they were both satisfied.

  "Why is grandmother Satziyta always so—" Lylya paused a moment considering her words, "grumpy. She makes me feel like a little mouse forever under her feet. She acts as if she hates us… I sometimes wonder if she hates all the children of the world."

  Kheda considered the question before finally speaking. "Before we came here, Mother told me a secret about grandmother Satziyta.

  Lylya turned to look at Kheda, her small face flickering orange in the dim candlelight. "What?" she asked.

  "Mother told me never to tell upon payment of death."

  "It’s OK to tell me. I will not tell anyone."

  "You’ll swear to it…upon payment of death?"

  "Upon payment of death, I swear it." She looked solemnly into Kheda’s eyes, pushed the palm of her right hand against her mouth and swiped the fingers of her left hand across her throat. "Upon payment of death," she repeated.

  Kheda waited till Lylya was finished and did the same. "Upon payment of death."

  Lylya leaned towards Kheda, her wide eyes glistening. "What did she say?"

  Kheda gravely looked around the dark box as if they were in a great crowded hall and moved closer to Lylya. "Mother told me that I was named after grandmother Satziyta… that her real name was Kheda Ismailova like me. She changed her name…during the time of Stalin’s exile."

  Lylya frowned. "Changed her name; Why?"

  "Mother told me that she, your mother, Uncles Akhmad and Abdulrakhman were not the only children our grandmother bore. There were others. All of them died in one week of the Cholera. Three little girls… They all died in grandmother’s arms. Grandfather had already been taken away to Anabar by then, so she was all alone when they died. Mother said she was out of her mind with grief a very long time. Then, from that time, they stopped calling her Kheda and she became Satziyta."

  "Why?" Lylya said. "What does the name Satziyta mean?"

  "It’s from the old language. It means… enough… let it stop." Again, silence fell in the old wooden box.

  "That is very sad," Lylya said, finally. "But still… why does she have to be so unpleasant all the time? If I lost some of my children, I would have more reason to love the remaining children better instead of worse."

  The Girls sat silent another moment. Finally Lylya spoke. "Should we have it now? We’re not likely to get any more comfortable in this stinky old box."

  Kheda looked mischievously back at Lylya. "I guess we could—"

  The girls’ attention was interrupted by a sound just outside the box.

  "Shhh," Kheda whispered. She quickly leaned and blew out the candle. They sat in the dark listening.

  A sudden sound of rustling trash made Lylya jump. "They’re digging in the trash. Maybe it’s the sanitation department."

  "Shhh," Kheda hissed. "It isn’t the sanitation department."

  "How do you know?" Lylya whispered.

  "How do I know what?"

  "How do you know it isn’t the sanitation department?"

  "Because everyone knows the sanitation department has forgotten number one. Oh look what you’ve done. They’ve found us now."

  The rustling sound was replaced by the sound of the black plastic pulling away followed by a pushing against the flap at the opening.

  "Who is it?" Kheda called out.

  The pushing paused and continued. Kheda leaned forward and slowly pulled the corner of the flap open just enough to get a peek. The sound stopped.

  "Can you see any—?"

  "Shhhh."

  Kheda pulled the flap open a tiny bit more, straining to see into the dark. Something popped through the hole and whipped across her face. She squealed, jumped back, and quickly wiped away the slimy trail. An intruder, big and black as night pushed through the flap and into the box.

  "It is only Ortho!" Lylya said giggling. "He came to find me."

  Kheda laughed and wrapped her arms around the manically excited overgrown black puppy who was now wreaking havoc with their tiny hut.

  The two little girls took turns frolicking with the dog until he began settling in eventually finding perfect contentment sprawled out between them on the floor of the wooden box.

  Finally, after yet another long quiet spell, Lylya spoke. "Let’s have it now."

  "We can’t now," Kheda said. "Ortho would want it. There are only two of them and I’m not sharing."

  "I’ll share with Ortho," Lylya said softly.

  At the sound of his name the puppy flicked a blindingly fast tongue across Lylya’s face. She grimaced and wiped the spittle away. "Stop!" she yelled. "Stop licking my face, you dumb dog!"

  "We need to make him go away first," Kheda s
aid, riffling deep into her clothing, making sure the package was still there. "He’ll want it all. He’ll make a fuss and ruin it for both of us."

  "We can’t just push him out," Lylya said, rubbing the dogs head. "He’ll be sad."

  Kheda reached and pushed the dog towards the flap. "He won’t care. He’s just a dog; dogs don’t care about things like that."

  The puppy resisted, pushed back out of the box and was gone.

  "See, I told you," Kheda said. "He’s probably chasing rats already."

  Lylya opened the flap and peered out of the wooden box. "Yes, he’s gone." She pulled the plastic down over the entrance. "We can finally eat it now."

  "That dumb dog messed everything up." Kheda said, grunting and pushing herself deeper into the box. "Now we must relax all over again. I’m not going to eat it until I’m completely relaxed."

  She lay for a time looking up at the top of the box. Finally, she reached deep into her clothing, pulled out the package and held it close to the flickering candlelight.

  Lylya looked on eagerly as Kheda used her teeth to tear the plastic away. She fumbled a moment before pulling one of the golden pastries from the package and handing it to Lylya.

  "What is it again?" Lylya said, her mouth watering.

  "It was an American delicacy before the day of the asteroid," Kheda said quietly, "only for movie stars and rich people. Father paid a large price for it when he was in Moscow last month. He brought it home and gave it to me to celebrate my birthday. I told him I wanted to share it with my very best cousin before Ramadan so he let me bring it here to Grozny." She eyed her own pastry hungrily. "It’s called a… Twinkie," she said, stumbling over the English word.

  Lylya laughed. As was the case with all Chechen school children, she had learned the basics of the English language. She had always found the language odd sounding. "That’s a funny word," she said, "say it again."

  "Tr…Twinkie."

  Lylya giggled. "It sounds like water dripping in a bucket."

  Kheda had already taken her first tiny nibble and was completely involved in savoring every delicious morsel. She chewed a moment and pulled back. "Hurry, try it! I don’t want to be finished before you even start."