Sequel to Hosanna Sings copyright Todd Vogel 2005
Sitting on the foredeck of EXODUS,
a restored Alden schooner, Hosanna looked across the turquoise water to the
tropical shore. Her twin daughters,
Faith and Hope, were climbing on the bowsprit, but she paid them little mind as
they were quite surefooted and the dolphins gamboling just underneath were
practiced in kid overboard situations.
An emerald hummingbird,
brilliantly iridescent in the morning sun, landed on the edge of her glass and
helped itself to a sip of mango juice.
After swallowing it preened for a moment then spoke. “So has
motherhood mellowed you any?”
Hosanna had been expecting
something like this since they had dropped anchor the previous morning. After five and a half years of idyllic
anchorages this was the most perfect.
The bay was sheltered from wind and waves. To the left there were sandy
beaches, to the right a cliff from which a waterfall tumbled directly into the
sea. All this at a place where the charts said there were two thousand of feet
of water. The island was uninhabited
yet more beautiful than any she had seen, and they had the anchorage to
themselves. God had said She would be
in touch, and Hosanna had been sensing a presence the past few days.
Hosanna answered,
“Motherhood is a nicely defined mission.
Even if I don’t always know what to do, I generally have an idea.”
The hummingbird turned its
head and watched the girls as they teetered over the water. “Maybe you can understand why I left you
to climb about on your own?”
After thinking for a moment,
Hosanna replied, “Maybe, but they know how to swim, and the dolphins are there
just in case.”
“You had dolphins too, but
that’s not what I’m here to talk about.”
“I figured as much, what
with the island and all. By the way, I
like the humming bird getup.”
The little bird launched
its-self and did a quick intricate flight over her head, then settled
back. “I think you’re ready to go
back.”
“What about motherhood?”
“You will find they are a
help, as are the others.”
“Others?”
“You will follow the stars. The first will lead you to Haiti just two days north. The child will be there waiting. Others will have seen the star and will be gathered around. You will make yourself known, and your daughters will gain a playmate. Later you will find the others, one by one.”
Hosanna nodded, “Sounds like
you have a plan,” she said.
The bird cocked its
head. “I can hardly wait until you
have a cabin full of children all asking, ‘Why’.”
“I’ve learned quite enough
with the two I’ve got.” Hosanna said thinking that even with some miraculous
powers, motherhood was far harder than she’d imagined. “Besides, I’m not sure I’ve recovered from
the last time I made like a messiah.”
The hummingbird landed on a
slack rope that led from one of the furled jibs. After preening for a moment he spoke, “That’s why I decided
that you need some help.”
“Children? What happened to
all those years of my not being ready? Wouldn’t it be better to send some older
men or women – maybe people would listen to them.”
“They listened to you,
that wasn’t the problem.”
“What?”
“They didn’t like what
they heard.”
“And just what was wrong
with my message?”
“Nothing.”
“Let me get this straight. You, the all powerful creator of heavens and earth, grand Pooh-Bah of this end of the galaxy and maybe more, send your children to earth - Jesus, and then, if I’m not delusional, me. Maybe others too.” She raised a second finger, “We do a good job, speaking at least a semblance of your will.” She raised a third finger and after taking a quick look to see that her children were not in imminent danger, continued. “And your flawed creations, nailed Jesus to a tree, and were headed in the same general direction for me, but I got out in time.” She shook her head. “And all this was after you had once used a flood to wipe the slate clean.”
“And now it’s time to go
back.”
“So society can teach Faith
and Hope about Captain Crunch breakfast sugar before they measure them for
martyrdom?”
“Give me some credit,
will you? This time I’ve got a plan.”
Chapter 2
Martha sat back and stared at the monitor. She wasn’t sure that she liked using the word processor more than writing on pads of paper. It was too easy to go back and change things, and that stopped the flow. She wasn’t at all sure that she wanted to do this. It had taken a year before she could go to the supermarket without someone coming up to her wanting a miracle of some sort or another - and that was after she had bought a hundred secluded acres in an area where people were proud that they minded their own business.
She hadn’t told anyone that
she was even thinking about it, even though her agent and the man who took
Sally’s spot at the publishing house kept trying to convince her to write a
sequel.
The dreams had started a
month ago. In them someone was knocking on the door. It continued softly, but
persistently, with pauses now and again as if whomever was listening for an
acknowledgement.
Martha put her hands back on
the keyboard, “I’m coming – I’m coming.”
“A plan, you mean like in
God’s perfect plan? I’m waiting.”
“In the old testament a
remark like that would gotten you turned into a pillar of salt.”
“Give me that old time
religion.”
The hummingbird took a deep
breath, expanding its chest and kept growing.
In a moment it morphed into a pelican.
Stretching out its neck it leaned towards Hosanna and opened its mouth
wide. A fish slid out of its bill and
landed on Hosanna’s lap. The twins
noticed and gave a little cheer.
After tossing the fish over
the side, where it was caught by a dolphin before it hit the water, Hosanna
stood. “Kids, why don’t you go aft and
see if there is a melon in the ice box?”
The twins seemed not to hear
and stood watching the pelican. Faith
spoke, “Maybe bird has melon.”
Hosanna turned to the
pelican. “Of course the bird has a melon, but it would be all slimy from being
next to the fish. The one in the icebox
might even have ice cream inside.
The kids scampered aft.
“Not above performing
mini miracles are you?”
“Not at all. Life is full of
them. So what’s the plan? And don’t give
me any of that ‘more will be revealed stuff,’ this time I’m not buying it.”
“I told you about the stars
and the children.” The pelican hopped
off the rope which was not a good perch for so large a bird. “Of course the media will be all over this,
and when you have picked up the last child you will set course for New York.”
“I don’t think so.”
The bird raised its wings
slightly in what was a shrug. “Ok. A
hurricane will come and will blow you to New York. Your choice. Once there
you will find someone waiting and you will be offered a contract for a
television show called “Out of the mouths of babes.” It will replace the morning news. You won’t have to do much, the children will know what to do and
say.”
“I can’t believe you want to
get into reality tv. Have you planed for when the mobs gather outside the
Studio?”
“I’ll come and drop fish
on them. How’s that? Big fish if need
be.”
“It may take more than fish.”
A shout from the deck behind
them interrupted, “Mommy, Hope made the ice-cream strawberry, and I wanted
vanilla.”
Hosanna turned to the
pelican, “Are you sure that this is God’s perfect plan?”
Martha looked up and
wondered the same thing. Why was she
writing this? She didn’t need the
money. She certainly did not want the
fame or attention another book would bring.
* * *
The hills around the small
town had been stripped of all their trees.
The small river that flowed through the town carried a carpet of brown
out to sea as the rains washed what fertile soil there was from the already poor
fields. Looking through her binoculars,
Hosanna could see a large crowd standing along the waterfront. There was no port to speak of so she
anchored far enough off shore to discourage visitors.
After lowering the shore
boat, built of varnished wood with sleek lines designed to make it easy to row,
she said to the twins. “Get in, you
might as well get used to crowds.”
As they drew within in a
hundred yards of shore she heard a pulsing buzz and realized it was the crowd.
Closer, she could make out that they were calling her name with a
lilting patois accent. As they
approached shore a pod of dolphins appeared and gently pushed back the people
who were surging into the water towards them.
Hosanna shipped her oars and told the twins to stand on the aft
seat. “See if you can spot your new
friend.”
When the boat touched the
beach a large woman pushed through the crowd and grasped the gunwale. “We have been waiting. The child is ready his name is Jacques.” She
lowered her voice, “We should go fast. There are those who do not want him to
go.”
The sun was hot. This was not a tropical paradise, not with
the stench coming from the river and the decaying hills ready to slide into the
town with the next deluge.
“Perhaps an exchange,”
Hosanna said, raising her hand. She
pointed to the hillside and swept her hand back and forth as though
painting. A forest appeared, tall trees
filled with fruit and birds. The bay
turned from brown to blue. The scent of
gardenias replaced the foul sewage smell.
“The trees can not be cut, they will dull any blade, stop any saw.” The crowd was now quiet and parted, making a
path wide enough for her and the girls to walk abreast. The woman led them up onto the street and
into a building made of scraps of wood with a rusted metal roof. The crowd followed filling the narrow
street. Before entering Hosanna pointed
again and long tables burdened with food appeared on the other side of the
crowd.
Hosanna walked into the shack and reached out for the boy’s
hand. He held it for a moment, but soon
pulled away and went to Faith whose hand he took. As they emerged Hosanna said,
“He will return when it is time.”
For the most part the crowd
had surged towards the tables and ignored Hosanna who quickly walked back
towards the narrow beach. The children
followed behind but stopped before leaving the street. Hope raised her hand and, using the same
painting gestures as Hosanna, quickly transformed the ramshackle dilapidated
town with a coat of paint and new walls where they were needed. Her color scheme favored pink, purple and
yellow, with a few polka-dotted buildings thrown in for diversity.
The boy raised his hand and
filled a vacant lot with a flock of chickens.
He laughed, and made more, filling the street behind them. It was a lot of chickens. He paused and pointed his finger at one As he giggled it grew - turkey sized and
then larger until it was taller than he.
It cocked its head to the side and clucked.
Faith took a step towards it
and with a pass of her hand transformed it from brown to a glorious blue with a
yellow topknot.
Hosanna called, “Come
on. There will be time to play with
evolution later.”
Later, as they sat on deck
watching the hills receed behind them Faith asked. “Why did we go and get
Jacques?”
“We followed the star,
silly,” said Hope, “and the bird told mommy to, don’t you remember?”
“I remember that. But why did the bird tell us to go? And where is the next star?”
Hosanna turned from looking
up at the darkening sky. “We should see
it pretty soon. And I don’t know where it will take us. The bird didn’t give a lot of details.” She paused for a moment, “What has Jacques
told you?”
“That he was waiting for
us. His mommy is dead. He knew we were coming.”
“Could you tell him we don’t
need any more chickens.”
“But he likes them.”
“Tell him one or two is
enough, especially since he likes them big. We’re going to be a bit cramped
before we are done I’m afraid.”
There was a minute of
silence as they watched the end of the sunset.
“Mommy?’
“Yes?”
“That bird you were talking
to…”
“What about it?”
“I think I’ve heard its
voice sometimes.”
Hosanna turned from looking
at the sky and put her hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “It’s time we had a talk. Go get your sister.”
“And Jacques?”
“And Jacques.”
Hosanna sat opposite the
three children in the cockpit. “I guess you probably know that most people
don’t live on sailboats and have visits from talking birds.” She paused and
nodded to Jacques, “and most people don’t have stars above them.”
“There’s another one,” Faith
shouted pointing up.
Hosanna turned and saw
another especially bright star, not in the west where Venus was, but to the
North West. “Yes, we’ll go follow it in
a minute, but let me finish. You will find that there are going to be a lot of
things that are different. And pretty
soon there will be crowds of people. And talking birds. It’s going to be…” she ran out of words.
“Fun,” said Hope.
“Yeah,” the others chimed
in.
“You’d better know what
you’re doing,” Hosanna muttered under her breath.
North and West took them across the Gulf of Mexico and through an inlet near Brownsville Texas. It was early morning as they approached shore and, as soon as the sun had risen, there was a flock of small planes and helicopters circling them. Hosanna remembered why she had tried to resign her messiah-hood. Two Coast Guard boats came alongside transferring three officers and a civilian to the schooner’s deck before standing off.
“Agent Reed, did they send
you to help cut through the red tape?”
“Hello Hosanna. Red tape is the least of it I am
afraid. Remember how you told me that
God has a sense of humor? I think you
used armadillos as an example.”
She nodded, waiting for him
to go on.
“Well the star that you are
following, it leads to a trailer park,” he gestured towards shore.
“Ok,” Hosanna began.
“Not ok. In that trailer-park there are thirty-seven
children between the ages of eighteen months and fourteen years of age. In each case their parents are claiming that
their child is the one you seek. About
half the parents have signed agents, some others have made a local preacher the
advisor. His name is Roy Wallis, but he
is known locally as Reverend Fangs. He
preaches what he calls a venomous sermon and his sect is known for using
rattlesnakes in their services to demonstrate their trust in Jesus.”
“And?”
“And, based on satellite
photographs and other studies done with classified assets, we believe that one
of the children in his charge is actually the child you seek.” Phillip paused.
“Maybe I’m just here to pick
up fresh fruit.” Hosanna smiled, “but then again maybe not. Reverend Fang?”
Phillip spoke, his voice
deep, trying to imitate the man, “God’s word is venom to the Devil. Accept the strike,” he made a very fast
motion with his hand toward her arm, “it is the only way to kill him inside
you.”
“No shit,” Hosanna shook her head, “God’s work is
manifold and mysterious.”
“He’s one of those who
hasn’t forgotten your last visit. At
the time he was hoping for Armageddon,
but now he maintains you were sent by the devil. So guess what? When the
news reported that you might be headed here he had his parishioners go out into
the country and gather up all the snakes they could find. They’ve done this before and know where to
look. And this being Texas, they got a
lot of them and let them all loose in the trailer park.”
He shook his head. “So far
there have been two fatalities attributed to the snakes. Only one by a bite. The other was when one of the residents got
a little over eager with his shotgun, he got the snake, but tore up his
neighbor’s truck. Now around here
that’s a hanging offense and one thing led to another…
“Several people are being
treated in the hospital for bites. The
local emergency room has flown in all the snakebite anti-venom it can get.”
Hosanna smiled, “I didn’t
expect a marching band welcoming me home.”
The smile left his face,
“Seriously, we are worried about snipers.”
As he said it a news helicopter buzzed low, the wash from its blades
causing the sails to flap wildly.
“And you are here to tell me that you can not guarantee my safety.”
He nodded, “That’s a part of
it. More importantly, they want
to know what is going on.”
“I wish I knew. This time it seems as though the focus is
going to be on the children. Maybe I’m
just going to be a glorified baby sitter.”
“Somehow I doubt that,” Phillip said.
The Coast Guard Lieutenant came foreward. “Excuse me, but how do you disengage the auto-pilot?”
Hosanna looked the woman
over. She was very tanned having
obviously spent a lot of time outdoors.
She appeared to know what she was doing. “There is no auto pilot. Exodus
is Alden designed, sails herself most of the time.”
“But the channel turns to
port,” The officer pointed to a buoy.
“We’ll probably get a wind
shift,” Hosanna looked at the water off
to her right and pointed to a set of small waves that were coming at them. “If you want to be official you might yell,
“coming about,” or something.”
“Speaking of official,” The
officer paused and looked at the buoy and the waves, before asking, “Could you
get us the ship’s papers?”
“Down below in the Galley
there is a picture of a Hummingbird, looks like it was drawn by a child. Faith
liked the paper. Turn it over. It
should be what you need.”
“Also Passports.”
Hosanna turned to Phillip
and said, “Could you tell this woman that I am less than understanding when it
comes to bureaurocracy? I’ll have the
kids make passports if she really wants them, but…”
“I don’t want passports the
children make.”
“Yes you do. And you will tell them what a good job they
did. It’s important to give praise.”
Phillip interrupted,
“Lieutenant, I believe the paperwork can be dispensed with,”
The woman stiffened
slightly, “Sir, I believe our missions differ.”
Phillip shrugged. “Trust me on this one.”
Hosanna smiled, “You want
papers?” She held her hands out as
though she was carrying a tray. “Say the magic word.”
The Lieutenant looked at
Hosanna as though she was a bit nuts.
Hosanna continued, saying, “Surely your mother taught you the magic
word.”
Phillip was smiling.
“Lieutenant, it starts with the letter P.”
“Sir, I know that!
Please?”
A large wooden box appeared
in Hosanna’s hands. It was made of
varnished mahogany with polished brass hinges and fasteners. Carved into the top were the words, “Be
Careful What You Ask For.” She handed
it to the woman who was caught off guard by its weight and who had to take a
step forward to regain her balance.
Hoasnna turned back to
Phillip saying, “Do you have a recommendation for a place to anchor?”
“The Coast Guard Base
provides the best security, but I remember you are a bit leary of governmental
facilities.”
She nodded. “Security is not
a problem.” A flick of her finger produced a swarm of bees flying just off the
boat’s side. Above them a flock of
geese forced the copter to break off from making another pass.
* * *
The Reverend Roy Wallis
watched the television coverage of Hosanna’s arrival. He was pleased they had again aired the interview he gave the
night before. There had been a lot of
waiting and he had seen it several times.
“My faith will not waver. The
Serpents will foil the Devil’s plans.
She is not the only one who talks with the Lord. And I have on High Authority that it is not
the LORD to whom she speaks.
“I have been assured that
this young child will grow up and will take over my ministery.” He was not specific about which child since
it was a bit of a problem that the child most likely under the star was female. And the daughter of a woman who added new
dimensions to the word backslide. She
cooperating only because one of his flock was in a position to put significant
pressure on her. The Reverend was still
working on how he might be able to pass a far more promising young boy off as
the star-child. That family wanted
nothing other than to be of service to the church, and the mother presented a
far better image working at Wal-Mart rather than tending bar in a place
ironically called the Devil’s Den.
That was a place the
reverend had never been in. But he had driven by on numerous occasions. It was said that the mother’s attire
consisted of a flimsy halter top and shorts that had been modified to expose as
much as the health department would allow.
She certainly was not the modern Mary the situation seemed to call for,
though his denomination was more concerned with The Father.
The televison commentators
blathered continuously about the “miracles” Hosanna had produced when she had
last visited. At the time he had been
certain that she was heralding Armageddon and had felt a vague dissapointment
when she vanished and things slowy returned to normal.
Now it seemed as though she
was coming straight to him, and he would be waiting. In his mind’s eye he saw the scene. Standing outside the house where the child lived he would wear
his finest purple robes. A large diamondback, as fat as his calf, held in his
hands. A group of his accolytes had
found a large specimen which they fed until it was sated. The Reverend saw himself waiting until the
heathen Hosanna was close, then as though applying a benediction he would reach
out and drape the snake on her shoulder.
God willing, it would strike, hopefully in her neck where the venom
would do the most and fastest harm. Her
death, carried live on television, would propel him to the world pulpit he had
so long understood was his destiny, but which had eluded him until now. He would rally the faithful…
The phone rang, interrupting
his reverie. It was the cellphone that
linked him to one of the faithful stationed down at the waterfront. “She is rowing to shore. The children are
with her.”
* * *
Looking for a different
angle Tom McAddams, a reporter for KSLF news, counted seventy-three television
news trucks, fifty-seven marked
vehicles from six law enforcement agencies, and five distinct groups of
protesters. Three ice-cream trucks, one
of which was an undercover unit for a seventh law enforcement agency, added to
the gridlock that brought all movement on the trailer park’s potholed streets
to a halt. After failing to disuade
Hosanna, Philip used a FBI vehicle to get her as close as possible.
There were very few people
on the street and the TV newscasters broadcast standing on the tops of their
vehicles. This was due to the only
slightly exagerated reports of hundreds of rattlesnakes loose in the
compound. Many of the serpents had made
their way to better neighborhoods, but there were enough in evidence so most
camera crews were able to ‘adopt’ one on film, providing footage which was
broadcast when there was a lull. News
directors saw it as a wonderful device which assisted in keeping the tension at
a pitch to ensure high ratings. One
crew was especially pleased that they were able to film an encounter between a
large diamondback and a toy poodle with more brava than brains. “Warning: graphic footage,” the announcers
trumpeted as they gleefully replayed
the scene where brave little Muffin died valiantly defending his
home. Within an hour a networks bought
the footage and Muffin was credited with having saved at least a dozen people
from death or dismemberment. Snake
experts were airlifted to TV studios so they could give detailed descriptions
of how venom effected the body. Three
breeders claimed Muffin’s bloodlines and offered a replacement to the berieved
family. A funeral was being planned.
* * *
Taking the children by the
hand, Hosanna helped them step down from the large vehicle and then set off
down the edge of the road. Three
helicopters swooped low, and a few of the braver journalists exited their vans.
“Ok guys and gals,” Hosanna
muttered to the snakes, “This is your chance to clean up the bad rap you got in
the Garden of Eden.” It took a few
seconds, but slowly the snakes uncoiled and slithered forth, emerging from
under bushes and vehicles. alligning themselves to provide a path for Hosanna
to follow. If a reporter approached,
one would rear up, threatening with fangs and rattle until the newshound backed
off.
The path led two blocks into
the heart of the trailer park then turned up a little cull-de-sac to the mobile
home, its tiny gravel yard decorated with battered plastic flamingos. This was
where the child lived.
The reverend waitied until
the cameras had the trailer in their shots.
Then, after pulling on his purple robe and carefully grasping the snake
whose mouth had been secured with a noose he would remove at the last moment,
he opened the door and moved out onto the small landing that stood at the top
of two slightly wobbly steps.
Reverend Fang had his lines
ready, and was planning to wait until she was close, but the phalanx of snakes
rose as if to strike, and the serpent in his hands surprised him with its
strength, wrenching itself from his grip.
News7copter came in low and rasied a cloud of dust. The snake coiled its
tail around Roy’s ankle raising up, mouth open, its fangs poised to strike the
Reverend’s groin. Though the sounds of
the helicopter, the whooping sirens of the police cars, and the clamor of the
crowd that was following Hosanna made it impossible, he clearly heard her say,
“Thanks, but that won’t be necessary.”
The snake swayed slightly,
feinted once and then with a slow fluid motion settled to the ground. It kept its tail wrapped around the
preacher’s ankle and its eyes focused on his face.
The reverend took in deep
breaths as he grasped for words. Nothing was the same. What had been so clear just minutes ago was
now muddled. Would the devil have saved
his life like that? Yet who else would be escorted by rattlesnakes? He heard the door open behind him, a perfume
scent that he called, ‘harlot nights,’ preceeded the girl’s mother. “God,”
he asked, “Let her not be wearing the leather vest that reveals so
much.”
Hosanna’s voice cut through
the clamor, perhaps coming from inside
their heads. “Why don’t you invite us
in? The dust is not good for the
children.”
The woman waved and the door
opened pushing the reverend off to the side of the platform. He tried to follow after Hosanna and the
children had passed, but the snake held tight to his ankle. Dismayed, he watched the aluminum door close
– shutting off his chance of a global ministry. Even more disturbing, he had felt something as they passed,
something more powerful than anything he could conjure up, more real. It had taken an act of will, and a strong
desire to get no closer to the serpent, not to fall to his knees.
Deprived of the main
characters, fifty televison cameras turned to him. The Reverend knew this was a chance to have his say, but he
remained silent. Perhaps it was the
pressure of the rattler’s tail around his ankle, maybe it was the sense that he
had been brushed by God’s true messenger, but the words did not come. He felt a pull on his ankle and allowed the
snake to lead him off the steps and across the yard. He followed the snake lined path that Hosanna had used to pass
through the mob. Eventually the press
turned their cameras from him and focused on the door of the trailer.
Martha pushed her chair away from the table where the computer whirred softly. She had missed the act of writing. It had saved her life when she was confined by giving her a refuge from the insanity that would have sucked her will to live. She never had any clear idea where her stories, or, more precisely, her characters, were going. It was as though she passed through a door into another world where things had a life of their own. She looked at her watch and saw that she’d already spent three hours at this. For most other things that would be enough, but not for this – at least for today. The next paragraph tugged at her, wanting to escape through her fingertips.
Instead
she got up and headed for the bathroom.
The next piece was going to be fun, she didn’t want to have to stop in
the middle for simple biological functions.
* * *
Wanda
waved her hand indicating the chaos that had overcome the snug living
room. “Please – find a place to sit,
you’ll have to excuse the mess, things got crazy about six days ago when that
star…” she stopped and looked at the
kids. “Down at the end there, you’ll
find Estelle. She’s been waiting, and
not a little scared.” The three kids
took off and she turned back to Hosanna. “That man,” she began, “he said that
he could get the County to take her away.
He had someone from Children’s Protection call me, one of the deputy
commissioners.” She paused, taking a
deep breath before she went on. “I had some trouble a while ago, and I guess
some people don’t think too much of what I am.”
Hosanna’s
smile grew. “There is nothing wrong
with you. Not now. Nobody is going to take your child away.”
“But
you, why are you here? On the TV…”
“You
are coming too. Unless you can’t bear
to leave all this.”
“Me?
But I’m not…I mean I work in a biker bar, I don’t know who Estelle’s father is,
I…”
Hosanna
interrupted, “You are just fine. I’m
not taking her from you - you are coming with us. I’m going to need a hand with the kids, and, if nothing else, it
will give the reporters a whole ‘nother tree to gnaw on. Besides, I suspect I know who the father
is.”
“No!
Not about the father, I mean, but reporters.”
She stopped and chewed on her bottom lip for a minute. “I had a problem, with things, drinking and
drugs and men and I did some real stupid things when I was drunk.” She brough her hand up over her face for a
moment as though to block the images, “REALLY stupid. There are pictures. Maybe even movies of
me. You see at the bar, Saturdays are
“wild night”. The wilder you get, the
less drinks cost. When a woman takes
off her top they are mostly free. That was before I started working there. I don’t remember a lot of it, but they have
a picture of me. It’s glued to the wall
in the men’s room. It’s pretty bad, I
was…” she trailed off not wanting to describe it. “That picture or as much as they can show is going to be on the
news.”
“So?” Hosanna gestured towards her own body. “Would it make you feel better to get a
photographer in here and have him take a picture of me. I’ve got the same basic equipment you
do. Same as everybody else. This shame of our bodies has got nothing to
do with God. Religion often has got
that problem, yes. God doesn’t.”
Hosanna
reached out and touched Wanda’s shoulder. “Besides, you’re not doing that any
more. Amazing how much easier it is to
keep your clothes on when you’re not drinking.”
Wanda
laughed, “I noticed that. But I still
work there, and the costume isn’t modest, not if I want to get tips.”
“I
think we can consider your resignation effective immediately. Besides, this is about them,” Hosanna pointed towards the hall, “Not you
or me.”
* * *
Martha remembered once back on ward 17k when one of the aides had left a magazine behind. In that place, so starved for stimulation, she read anything she could get her hands on. This one had been quite an education, and the inspiration for a month’s worth of fantasies. “Biker Babes”, it had been called. It was filled with photos of scantily clad women posing on motorcycles or in seedy looking bars. Not quite porno, but some distance from literary, it had provided her with an environment utterly different, but at the same time much the same. Martha had dreamed og being a Wanda especially as a way to pay Max back for having stolen so much, including her sexuality. Just on that basis alone there was no way Martha could write the story so that Hosanna left Wanda behind.
* * *
Hosanna smiled, “If it would help, we could stop by the bar on the way out, maybe visit a plague of some sort on them.”
Wanda’s eyes widened a bit. “No, we probably should just go, though there is one guy…”
Their emergence spurred the pack of reporters into a feeding frenzy so wild that several pushed their luck with the cordon of rattlesnakes and were bitten. For the most part these victims were ignored, though a couple did on-air segments describing the effects the venom was having on them. These interviews were, for the most part, relegated to the cutting room floor since the news directors’ instincts were to stay focused on Hosanna. The truth was that there was little to report. Once Phillip’s vehicle got clear of the traffic they proceeded straight to the waterfront and rowed the tender to the schooner.
Police scanners were ignored, including a series of reports involving a water-buffalo loose in a seedy bar on the outskirts of town.
Chapter 6
“You’re writing again? Didn’t you once say, ‘sometimes I think the literary world is crazier than the loony bin?’” Jeanne asked.
“I did. And it is.” Martha chuckled, “like the editor who told me about the voices he heard, the ones who helped him make corrections.” She shrugged. “I don’t miss the insanity, I can assure you of that. It’s just that I have a story that has to come out. Maybe I won’t send it anywhere. Maybe we’ll keep it a secret.”
Jeanne nodded, “You remember why we had to move; how that woman kept breaking into the garage?”
“It was time to move on. To put that house and everything that happened in it behind me.” Martha took a deep breath before continuing, “But you remember Hosanna’s story isn’t finished.”
A smile spread across Jeanne’s face, “I remember how the publisher threatened to lock you back in the attic, they wanted it so bad.”
* * *
After climbing up onto the deck Wanda said, “I’ve never been on a boat before. Not even a row boat. Not a lot of water where I came from, and my mother was afraid of things. So, even when we went to the lake, we couldn’t even get in a rowboat.” She looked around for a moment then asked, “Where are we going?”
Hosanna gestured towards the small fleet of boats that hung back between them and shore. “Away from them. The bees have to go in at sunset, and I don’t feel like conjuring up something else.”
“How do you make it go?”
“I put up the sails, then the wind blows and we sail. God does most of the work.”
Wanda looked down at the deck. “Is it going to be a problem that I haven’t been to church since”, she paused for a second, “ since a long time?”
“It’s not about church. You did spend a while worshiping things that weren’t exactly what God had in mind, but that’s over, and now you are a part of her new plan.”
“Her new plan? Me? Her?”
“Why not? Tell you the truth I was surprised that she decided to use me again after I screwed up so royally last time.” Hosanna reached out and put her hand on Wanda’s shoulder. “We’ll make a good team. Of course we’ve got to have faith that there is a plan this time. Before, I was just kind of winging it. And, if you are wondering about Estelle, and where she came from, well, only thing I can think of is that the holy ghost or whatever went on something of a bender.”
They passed through the inlet just as darkness was falling. The flotilla of press fell back as a set of short steep waves developed behind Exodus. A dark cloud enveloped the helicopters, and they too turned back.
Two evenings later as the sun was setting, Estelle called out, “It’s a star.”
“It’s too low. I don’t think so.” Hosanna reached for the binoculars. “No, it’s another boat.”
As they drew nearer it became clear that the other boat was not moving. A slight shift in the wind brought them alongside what turned out to be an open boat filled with a crowd of frantic people. More people than she could imagine the boat would float.
“Who are they, mommy,” Faith asked?
Hosanna looked around at the empty ocean where land was hundreds of miles off of any horizon, “Not an accident. We’ll ask the bird the next time we see him.”
The people in the boat had been there long enough to be sunburned, dehydrated and weak. Wanda helped them up a short ladder onto the schooner’s deck. When she thought the boat was empty she took one last look around and saw something under the rear seat. Reaching under, she felt an arm. It was small, a child. The skin was hot, burning with fever, she thought. She called for help and Hosanna came to help her pull the boy out and lift him up onto the schooner
After setting him down on the cabin top, Hosanna put her hand on his forehead. “He is the one.” She was starting to say something else when she heard a couple of the children yelling in protest.
She stood and moved aft on the narrow deck. As she neared the cockpit she saw a man gripping the wheel. Hope and Jacques were standing in front of him and were being held by another man. These men were not emaciated like the others. They were, she realized, the smugglers. They wanted her boat. “Wonder what Jesus would have done if someone had tried to mug him,” she mused as she took another step.
The man was having trouble, the wheel was not turning even though he was putting some weight into it. After a moment he noticed her and said something to the other, who tightened his grip on the two kids.
“Big mistake.” Hosanna said. A long thick tentacle emerged from the water off the port side. Coiling its tip around the man’s neck, it plucked him off the deck and lifted him back over the side. Jacques and Hope ran to Hosanna. The man at the helm took a step back raising his hands and smiling as though he had meant no harm. The giant squid dropped its hostage into the little boat from a height that caused a scream and a crash. The tentacle snaked back, reaching for the ringleader. He fell to his knees crying out “Madre d’ Dio”.
As the suckers gripped him Hosanna said, “Pray if you want. But God as I know her isn’t likely to be all that impressed.” With a flick of her head she indicated that the trash should be put out and he was cast into the boat.
The scene had made the others alert. They pointed and yelled at the two men who were now trying to stand in the little boat. They kept falling because another tentacle had emerged and was rocking the boat as it ripped pieces of wood from the hull.
The wind freshened and Exodus moved away. Darkness moved in behind them.
No one knew the boy’s name. His mother had been sick and died three days into the trip. The two men had stolen the money she had hidden in her clothes before dumping her body overboard. The boy had crawled under the seat where he was all but forgotten.
Later that night Wanda came to Hosanna who was on deck, in part looking for new stars, “That thing that came out of the water, how did you do that?”
“Divine retribution, it’s an interesting concept. Sometimes I get an idea and can make it happen, but more often the perfect thing just seems to… I don’t know, poof and there it is.” She turned to Wanda, “Pretty neat huh? Sometimes it makes up for all the other shit that happens.” She paused for a moment then continued, “Got to say that I sometimes get a real kick out of it. You remember how when we were leaving your house you told me about a guy at the bar?”
“Yeah. Frankie.” She almost spat out the name, “What about him?”
Hosanna smiled, “Too bad we didn’t have time to stop by, though don’t think it would have been good for the children to see it.”
“What?”
“A water buffalo walks into this bar.”
“This sounds like a joke.”
“Everybody laughed but Frankie. Turns out it was a gay water buffalo and Frankie was his type – if you know what I mean. They’re calling him buffalo bitch now and he doesn’t like it much. He’d punch someone, but the body cast slows him down some. They took photos and stuck them up in the mens room. You lost your place of promenance I’m afraid.”
It took Wanda a long moment to close her mouth before she could open it again and say, “Perfect. Kind of sorry I missed it.” She paused, “No I’m not. I saw enough strange shit that it’s ok. Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“You know, you’re enough to make me start believing in God again.”