Children of the Sunrise
Chapter 10
Something was hurting my son and I couldn't help. Something was hurting all of the children and there wasn't a damn thing any of us could do about it. It brought back thoughts of Rivi. A black drape settled on my soul and the darkling cry of the "gere" pounded in my ears.
After Jesse and I nursed the boys' cuts and pushed them off to bed, we went out on the back porch and joined Mary and Variety. Mary had just returned from the hospital. She said John Sr. was doing amazingly well. The doctors said he could come home later this afternoon. She made up some story about a hunting accident. They seemed to have bought it. Mary is one of their own. She filled out all the paper work to cover our story. She says two weeks ago it would have been impossible to take a gunshot through the hospital without a police report but these days they were too busy with other trauma cases to worry about it.
Variety made some kind of comment about John being more trouble than he was worth...her way of expressing relief. We sat on the back porch in silence for a few minutes. The rain had stopped. Clouds and haze still obscured the sun. Mist rose out of the muddy puddles in the backyard.
Sam and James Purcival were debriefing the fiasco at the city shelter with Dusty and Nam, hoping she would listen to reason about future actions. I figured they were wasting their time argueing with that little despot. Besides, I had other problems. Something is hurting my son...
I sat on the bench and laid my head on the picnic table. "I`m tired," I said to nobody in particular.
Nobody in particular answered. The ladies seemed to be lost in their own thoughts. I looked out through the murky morning air at the drab, leafless trees bordering the backyard, wishing I could take a week off for snorkleing in Cancun, or maybe a couple of weeks in a lodge in Colorado. Wishing is great stuff. It takes your mind off what you've got those times you don't want to have it. Wishing makes you feel like anything is possible no matter how dim your prospects look. It was the child in me...wishing.
I realized the child was lonely. All the other children had left. They were caught up in worries I had always thought of as adult concerns. Nobody wanted to play anymore. I was startled as a new understanding came flooding into my mind. The children...they were acting like adults!
"That's something to worry about alright." The little black boy was standing by the screen door playing with the latch. "When the `Awakening' came, the children could no longer avoid the `gere'. They are in great pain and confusion. Most of these children have been badly hurt. They knew only fear and hate until their `friends' came. They are learning to love, to forgive. They are being healed but it is a slow, halting process.
"We draw them towards the light but the pull of the `gere' is powerful." He quit fiddling with the screen door and came over and crawled into my lap. "You know, you're running that `parent' number again. Didn't I warn you about that." He gave me that nasty, condescending little smile.
"The pain and helplessness you feel is only a fraction of what they must endure. The more sensitive they are, the more the `gere' calls. It is difficult for them not to loose their vitality, to become serious, to begin to blame others. There is a great temptation to hate the ones who caused them pain. They are greatly tempted to resign and give up."
He flipped around in my lap until his head rested on my knees. His feet did a little tap dance on my chest. "Instead of driving yourself crazy about things you can't change, use something you do have." He reached up and honked my nose. "You have the gift of laughter. You must use it. They need this knowlege. They must laugh and rediscover the child within. That is the only way out." He sat up and started poking me on the temple. "Your world will not be saved by plans and strategy. It will be saved by laughter and love." He paused a moment. "Make them laugh Uncle Tom. If they cannot...all is lost."
He made an obscene face and fffooped off. I laughed. There was something I could do. I'm great at making an ass of myself.
I jumped up yelling "Alert! Alert! Critical Mass!", and slammed through the back door into the kitchen. "Issues of Great Importance!" I screamed as I ran though the living room. "Significance and Hefty Seriousness! Major Big Time Heavy Stuff!" I bellowed as I ran to the top of the stairs. "Attention everyone! Attention!"
Animals jumped to alert with a start, hackles up, teeth bared. Children darted everywhere, hiding behind furniture, looking out the windows for police. Dusty, Sam and James came running out of the den, the ladies in from the back porch.
I stood at the top of the stairs, my face a mask of maddened passion. They all looked up at me with concern and confusion. Murmurs and questions spurted out of twenty mouths. I silenced them with a grandiose wave of my arm.
"I have had a communication from my `friend,' a warning of the gravest importance." My brow was wrinkled with the gravity of the situation. I met their eyes one by one.
"He has asked me to tell you that there is an imbalence in our strategy that puts us all at risk. A fatal flaw in our cerebral logic...a fly in the primordial soup!" I was stretching it a bit too far for Jesse and Variety. They had seen this type of routine before. I could see their eyes narrow in suspicion. I had the rest of the crowd in the palm of my hand however and I wasn't about to modify my routine to satisfy the Philistines.
Dusty and Sam Glennon were getting impatient.
"What's wrong Uncle Tom!" Dusty cried out. I could see she was quivering. The poor kid was strung like a violin. My heart went out to her. The responsibility she carried for the welfare of the rest of the children must have been weighing on her heavily. She had been particularly upset by the death of the two policemen at the city shelter. She blamed herself for her inability to control the animals, particularly Smitty, and felt the deaths were her fault.
"Dusty, it is a message from the highest authority, the very tip top of the `Imaginary friend' message center. It is of such earthshaking solemnity, that I need a second to collect my thoughts." I darted up the stairs and disappeared, then stuck my head back around the corner. "Wait here...I shall return." I could see little smiles creeping up on Jesse and Variety as they looked at each other knowingly. I hoped they wouldn't blow my cover. I needed some props.
In my bedroom, I have a collection of lethal instruments of comedic torture. My wife has long accused me of being terminally unserious. I have the goods to prove it. I grabbed my box of hats, hesitated over the straw explorer hat but chose the red satin baseball cap with the frog and propeller on top. Then I threw on my oversized pink paisley shorts, one of my impeccably tasteless hawaiian shirts, my All-American red, white and blue, wide suspenders with matching bow tie and my bright yellow deck shoes. I grabbed the box of hats, my sack full of jug band instruments, my blue sunglasses with attached nose and handlebar mustache and dashed back to the top of the stairs. I couldn't have been gone more than 45 seconds.
I could hear the concerned buzz from the room below. "Quiet!" I bellowed. "I require your upmost attention for this communication from the highest council of the imaginary friends!" The voices stopped so fast I thought the windows would implode from the vacuum. I put a trumpet shaped kazoo to my lips and tooted the classic entrance fanfare "ta ta ta tat...ta taaaa", then stepped onto the landing in full sight of everyone in the room. They looked at me in shock and disbelief. Variety let out a sputter then clapped her hand over her mouth.
"The message is..." I inserted a dramatic pause, then leaned forward and in a conspiratorial whisper, said "Lighten up...All work and no play makes Johnny a dull boy...It's tiiiiiimmme (my best Ed McMahon impression) for a party!"
I looked at the little faces settled all over the room. There was no reaction at all. They just starred at me in disbelief like I had said something utterly incomprehensible. Variety and Jesse could hold back no more. They both burst out laughing, fell into each others arms, then onto the floor as they let it all go. Sam Glennon was instantly irritated. "Of all the immature stunts." he grumbled. James Purcival, his face still a mask of shock looked over at Sam, then back at me, then back at Sam. He grabbed his stomach and exploded like a champagne bottle.
Radio, John Jr. and Mary Glennon looked at James and the two ladies writhing on the floor and started loosing it. Ricky Esquivel, way too macho to fall for my stunt, started griping "Stupid cabron, scare me death."
Radio looked over at his erstwhile gang leader, started poking him in the rib cage, saying "Lighten up Ricky. Lighten up. You heard the `friends', lighten up."
Ricky tried to preserve his credibility to no avail. "Don't mess with me boy." John Jr. and Radio started howling like wild dogs.
Mary walked over to Sam, put her arms around him, and started tickling. The hard old marine put up a good defense for eight or ten seconds, then shook his head, broke into a big smile and kissed his wife.
I still kept my eyes on the children. I was beginning to worry that these kids had been hurt too many times, had too much pain inside them to react to my little vaudevillian grandstand. I stood on the stairs, mugging my heart out, tooting on my kazoo, hoping like hell I could break them up. Things were getting desperate. They just kept staring at me as if I had just flown in from outer space.
After a minute or so, the others began to quiet down as they noticed the children weren't laughing. It was heartbreaking. I don't think any of us realized how little child was left in these children. Finally, I sputtered out one last "toot" and bowed my head. It hurt too much to keep meeting those blank little eyes.
Then little Tulli and Sarah Glennon, who had been sitting in the corner giggling and holding hands, got up and walked over to Dusty. Tulli grabbed Dusty by the hand.
"It's for fun Dusty. It's for playing." Dusty looked down at the little babe. Their eyes met for a long moment. Sarah made an obscenely cute attempt at a silly face and synthetic belly laugh that was way to big for her body.
Tears came up in Dusty's eyes, something none of us had seen. She started to sputter and snort, half crying and half laughing. The other children all turned towards her. She looked up at me, standing on the stairs like a rejected clown, and let out a slow, experimental giggle. Then slowly, cracks appeared in the dam. She let out a collosal snort that sounded like a piglet at dinner time, put her hand over her mouth to stifle it, and a similar sound came out the other end.
That was it. The room exploded. I watched, tears in my eyes, as one after the other, the children's faces opened up and with a cathartic muddle of tears and laughter, they joined in the hilarity. I guess I should have been upset that in spite of all my comedic brilliance, I had been upstaged by a fart, but I have been around kids long enough to know about the ultimate punch line. I just wanted them to laugh.
I ran down the stairs, my propeller whirling, passing out all my wierd hats and musical instruments. Dusty got the pink and purple fisherman's hat with the foot-long bill. Sam Glennon got my 10+ gallon Hoss Cartwright cowboy hat. Tulli looked great in my tan, Australian outback model with the kangaroo on top, but she was jumping around so much it kept falling off so John Jr. grabbed it.
James and the ladies dissappeared into the kitchen and came back in with snacks and treats. Radio put on the Dr. Suess Cat in the Hat song book album and we all started marching around the rooms, kids and adults together, tooting, drumming, strumming, singing and yodeling to the "Super-Supper March". Dogs and cats joined in with an ungodly chorus of howls, barks and yowls that made the whole thing sound like Mardi Gras at the Animal Farm. We waltzed with bears just like Uncle Terwilliger, lost the No Laugh race, sang happy birthday to Little Sally Spingel Spungel Sporn and did a thorough search of the house looking for the "Left-sock Thievers".
The children were desperate for fun and relief. Many of the young people had been raised in households where it was dangerous to be frivolous around adults. They had become experts at being invisible. They had lived with tension like the rest of us had felt for the last week for most of their lives. It took hard work for them to relax and have fun.
After everybody ate, the kids broke up into smaller groups. Many of the children ended up lying around in each others arms or curled up with their animal friends. Some ended up in the laps of adults. This was the first time they had trusted us enough to be that vulnerable. It made us feel good. I got so many lumps in my throat watching the little hardcases push past their fears that I felt like I had swallowed a bag of marbles. Everybody had a good cry. Everybody had a good laugh. The house was thick with healing.
I missed my Joey. I snuck up the stairs and cracked the door to his room. He was lying face up in his bed with his eyes closed. His face was puffy and streaked with tears. It was hard to believe he could have slept through that racket but I decided I better let him rest. As I started to close the door, he opened his eyes, looked over at me and said "Hi Dad. You can come in."
I walked over to the side of his bed and sat down. I brushed the hair out of his face. "Want to talk about it?"
The pain in his eyes drove through my heart like a knife. He reached over and put his hand on mine. "Jubie's dead." His voice was hollow. He pulled his hand away.
"Do you want to tell me what happened?" I could barely breath.
"When the animals came out, they were crazy. They tried to hurt me but Jubie wouldn't let them. He fought with them. I ran over to a tree and tried to climb it but some of the dogs came after me. I was so scared." He looked up at me, his eyes welling up. "Dad, why did they try to hurt us. We only wanted to help them?"
"I don't know babe." I stuffed the anger that suddenly grabbed at my chest. "Dusty said it was because of all the animals that were killed in the shelter. She said the survivors could feel the deaths in the 'gere' and it made them crazy with hate. She says the same thing happened to Smitty. She doesn't know why." I knew the explanation made no difference.
He started again. "After I got up the tree, Jubie ran off. Some big dogs chased after him." He started to cry openly. "Dad, I could feel it. I could feel them bite him. I could feel him being afraid. I could feel their teeth choking his throat, they were so angry, I..." He lost control and shook in my arms. "Then he wasn't there anymore. I called him but he wasn't there." He rolled over in his bed, sobbing "Jubie...Jubie...". I didn't think I could cry anymore but I was wrong. My son had experienced the death of his best friend in a way that I could never understand. Once again I was helpless and useless, unable to soothe his pain.
There was nothing I could say. I lay down on the bed next to my little boy and held him. He cried until he fell asleep.
I lay there with my son in my arms, afraid to move, afraid to wake him, not knowing what else to do except let him rest until I finally closed my own eyes and drifted off. Move over Sisyphus, let me take a shot at that rock. I'll push that thing up the hill one more time...
-------------------------- Jesse patted me on the shoulder and woke me up. Not that I minded, I was getting tired of shoving that boulder.
It wasn't unusual for me to fall asleep when I tucked in the boys. She was used to it. She put her finger to her lips and pointed at Joey. I nodded, crawled slowly out of the bed, and followed her downstairs. When we got to the kitchen, she pulled me over by the refrigerator and put her arms around me.
"How is Joseph?" she asked.
"He hurts. He says Jubie is dead." I returned her hug. She felt good. "He felt the whole thing with that damn empathy they've got." I tightened my grip, trying to squeeze some comfort out of her, some sense in the situation. "Jeez, they're just kids."
We held each other for a couple of minutes without speaking.
Finally she broke the silence. "We've set a time for the exodus. We're leaving Saturday night with the first batch of kids. James and Nam are leaving in the morning to get things set up in New Mexico."
So the time was almost here. It was Thursday morning. Jesse, James and Nam had been working almost non-stop on the departure since Sunday. Through covert wholesale connections, James Purcival had filled two large panel trucks with survival supplies, tents, food, and tools. He and Jesse were concerned about the the law's reaction to our little disappearing act so they had gone to some trouble to disguise the escape. Most of the purchases had been made through Purcival's company and a paper trail showed they were shipped to Northwest Canada.
Jesse, who was fast becoming a serious criminal, had somehow aquired false license plates and ID's for the adults. We had each spread rumors amongst our business associates and friends that left a conflicting trail for any pursuers. Things were getting real kinky on the political scene and we had no idea how bad it was going to get.
Variety, who was tapped into a substantial local underground gossip network, said there were a number of other "safe houses" around the city. People had taken in children in a variety of locations. Only problem was, the authorities had begun to figure it out. Several homes had been raided. People had been hurt and even killed when the animals resisted. The cops had lost their sense of humor.
The news reports had developed a new tone. Parents were frightened of their children. I understood why. All sorts of wild explanations began to circulate about the cause of the week's events. Some said a global cult had drugged the water supplies or the air with something that only affected children. Some predicted the end of world, saying the change in the kids was a sign of Christ's (or various and sundry other messiahs') return. A preacher from Colorado, named Daniel Waggonner, claimed that the children were being taken over by an extra terrestrial force that was out to dominate the earth. He said it was a trial of the last days. I didn't want to think about how close to the truth he was. He was calling all "true" Christians to join him in his "Revelation Army", and save humanity. Sounded scary to me. Nothing's more dangerous than a religious zealot with a thing for guns.
Still, I didn't really know he was wrong. I couldn't tell who was crazier, him or me. Truth was, we were doing all this on gut feeling. Nothing assured us that we weren't suckers in some plot the `friends' had cooked up. Maybe they were out to take over the earth. They sure as hell were out to change things. We didn't come out and say it but worries in that general arena plagued all of us. Jesse and the others didn't even have an imaginary friend to talk to, although I'm wasn't sure that was much of an advantage.
It came down to the fact that we just trusted our children. They said the "friends" were okay and that had to be enough. None of us were willing to turn the abused kids over to the authorities or the people who had been abusing them, even if Dusty would let us, which she wouldn't.
All of us believed that if the "Awakening" actually succeeded in threatening the political and economic powers that be, no one, especially these children, would be safe.
We were all hoping the voices of reason would triumph. There were lots of good folks out there trying to keep things kosher but our `friends' said we shouldn't bet on them getting things under control anytime soon. Besides, they claimed we had some kind of special destiny waiting for us in New Mexico. In any case, we were buggin' out.
The "gere" was crazy in the middle of this mess. The kids were wearing down fast. If they didn't stay occupied, you'd find them shivering in a corner, their eyes glassy with horror. My "friend" said the negative vibes wouldn't be so bad if we could get them to a less populated area. I was worried sick their health was threatened in addition to their sanity.
To tell the truth, the "gere" was getting to me too. I was sensitive enough by now that I was looking forward to whatever relief the move would bring. My head felt like a constant, nagging whirlpool of dread. I had terrible dreams. The Sisyphus nightmare had been an improvement. Most of them were a lot worse. Needless to say, I wasn't sleeping too well, but then neither was anyone else. We were all beginning to look like charter members of the living dead fan club.
Jesse said she had to go back to work so I gave her one last hug and walked out on the back porch where Variety and Mary were talking. They paused when I walked out like they were discussing something they would rather I didn't hear. I can't stand being left out of a conversation.
"Whatsa matter", I asked "I got the plague...or were you ladies just discussing the merits of my classy derriere?"
"No Bozo, I'm not into clown butts." said Variety. I guess if I wanted to be taken seriously, I should have changed clothes. "Mary was telling me what happened at the bayou today." She gave me a funny look. "You might be interested in John's unusual medical condition. She thinks it might have something to do with you."
I didn't like the way that sounded. "What's wrong with the big guy Mary, I thought you said he was okay."
"Oh, he's more than fine Tom...that's what's so unusual. I cleaned up and went into the ICU with him. The doctor assumed the shooting had happened a couple of weeks ago. He chewed me out for using the Intensive Care facility and staff for a followup visit. I thought he was crazy but I examined the wound beside the bayou and then again at the hospital." She gave me that same wierd look.
"Tom, it's another unexplained miracle. At the bayou, he was in bad shape. I was very worried about him...but forty-five minutes later, John's wound looked like it had been healing for two or three weeks. I made him stay there for a few more tests but the truth is he could have left the hospital with me. He had most of the use of his arm back by the time I left. Something happened...something strange happened when you carried him up the side of that hill."
At first I wanted to deny it. It must have been the
`friends' or some new power of John Sr.'s but the more I
thought about it the more I remembered the light...that
living, magical light...walking in the corona of the
sun...I didn't know what to say.
