Walter Mosley - 47

"What now?" I said.

"We have to destroy the machine that still lies in that hole," John said.

"How big is the rest of it?" I asked.

"Like so," John said, holding his arms out as if he were holding one of Mama Flore's prize watermelons.

"Really ain't all that big," I suggested. "I guess we can fall on 'em and it'll prob'ly get broke in the jumble."

Tall John smiled. He opened his mouth as if he were about to laugh.

"No, Forty-seven," he said. "You can't just fall on my golden machine and hope it will break. That thing carried me through ten thousand suns and just as many black holes. It will take more than a clumsy boy to destroy it."

"So, what then?" I asked, a little piqued about him laughing at my ignorance.

"I will climb down the left side," John said then. "You go down to the right. When you get behind those pine trees I want you to gather up as many throwing rocks as you can. Then, when you see my signal, start throwing your rocks at Stewart and Pike. Every time after you've thrown a stone run a few steps before throwing again. You have to keep moving because Stewart will be shooting at you."

"Shootin' what?" I asked. "He don't have no gun."

"You don't want to find out, brother."

Brother. It was a word that I had heard most of my life. There was Brother Bob who called us all his brothers, and there were the slaves that had the same mother, there were the male puppies from the same litter, but never had the word meant so much to me. John, after only a few days, had become my brother. He was as close to me as my hands or feet. His pain would be my pain and his people were my own. This kinship, this relation, was even more important to me than my newly found freedom. Because the love in our hearts for each other, even though an expanse as large as the Universe divided us, was the power that would save both his race and mine.

I didn't have long to consider these thoughts though. I ran down into the woods and gathered a dozen stones.

I squatted down behind an old pecan tree. Most of the branches were dead, and only one still bore fruit. I stared across the field to where Mr. Stewart and Andrew Pike were working with a rope and pulley, trying to pull something heavy out from the grave.

Up at the top of the gorge I saw John stand and hold up a hand. A flash appeared. Pike noticed the light somehow and turned away from the winch.

"Keep digging!" Pike shouted at his ghoul. Then he strode off up the hillside toward the place where the flash had originated. I could see that my friend was hidden again. As soon as he was a dozen steps from the excavation I hurled my first stone at Stewart. My aim was true and the rock clocked the ex-slave-boss on the forehead.

He felt the blow but didn't go down like I expected him to. Instead he gazed in my direction for three seconds, maybe four. In that short span his metal eye-patch began to glow, and then a crackling flash of light burst forward in

The tree I stood under exploded into flames, and then I remembered that John told me to keep on moving. I ran twenty steps, stopped, and threw another stone. The rock hit Stewart but at the same time his eye flared and the earth blew up under my feet.

From the ground I could see that Pike had turned around. When he laid eyes on me he began to run back

down the hill.

"Go back to the hole!" he yelled at Stewart. But Stewart didn't hear because he was cursing my number and running right at me.

At the same time John came out from hiding and was running toward the hole. Pike turned to pursue but John was moving faster. I hefted my largest rock and crouched down. Then the most amazing thing happened. Pike's body fell away like a shirt that someone had thrown off while running. From the cloth of skin a full-grown, winged Calash flapped its great blue wings, speeding toward the hole. Now he and Tall John were moving near the same speed at their destination.

I couldn't worry about them right then because Stewart was only five steps from me. I hurled the stone with all my might, hitting him on the metal eye-patch. There was a great blue spark that jumped off the torturer's metal eye. He flipped in the air and hit the ground with a loud humph! I threw another stone at the Calash named Wall but missed.

He and John dove into the hole at the same time, it seemed.

I ran toward them with a rock in each hand.

Just when I reached the hole, Wall flew out with a golden ball clutched within his tentacles. I threw both rocks but they just bounced off of his pale hide.

The great black eye turned toward me. In the brief instant that Wall looked at me he seemed to know everything about me. He knew the history that my blood held. He knew every thought and fear I'd ever known.

I knew that he was laughing, laughing at my weakness and ignorance and fear.

And even though the only thing I wanted to do was run away I yelled and leaped forward. I didn't care if I broke every bone in my body, I would still stop Wall from stealing my brother's Sun Ship.

A voice in my head said, "Good-bye, Forty-seven. What I do now will give you the time to prepare for Wall's final attack. And remember, if you think of me I will be there."

Wall must have heard the voice in my head because he screamed then and flew high in the air. He was trying, it seemed, to free his tentacles from the golden ball…

… and then they both exploded in the air like a thousand sticks of dynamite.

I was thrown to the ground, and for a long time there was nothing but darkness.

When I came to I was on my back, looking up at the sky. I got up on one shoulder to see if Mr. Stewart was still where he had fallen. He was gone but a little way beyond I saw the prone body of my brother in light Tall John from beyond Africa.

I tried to make it to my feet but I was too groggy from the explosion. After trying to get up and falling five or six times I settled on crawling to my friend's side.

He was in a bad way. Both his arms and both of his legs were broken. There were a dozen cuts on his face and one deep gash in his chest.

His glassy eyes stared up at nothing. I was sure that he was dead, but I couldn't believe it.

"Where's yo yellah bag, John?" were the first words I said.

Then I put my face on the ground, suddenly made even weaker at the loss of my friend.

"There's no healing this body again, Forty-seven," he said.

I looked up to see him turn slightly in order that he might see me.

"John!" I shouted. "You're alive!"

"Would you please hold up a hand to block the sun from my eyes," he said weakly, and then added, "my friend."

I held my hand to shield his eyes and asked, "What can I do, John?"

"Listen," he said. "I am going to the Upper Level now."

"Where that?"

"It is the river of dreams where we all flow together."

"Like heaven?"

John nodded and coughed and then he said, "I will come to you many times over your life, Forty-seven. I'll come and help you when I can… with your fight against Wall."

"Ain't he dead?" I asked, feeling a prickling along my spine as if the evil one-eyed monster were staring at me at that moment.

"No," John said. "He survived the explosion but he's very weak and will not appear to you again for seventeen years at least. But when you see his evil plans imprinted on the world you must stand against him, even though you will feel small and weak compared to his power."

"How do you know what he'll do if you dyin'?" I asked, even though the question hurt my heart.

"I will come to you," he whispered. "You will be a great hero and I will be the hero's friend."

"You gonna be a ghost?" I asked, fearful of being haunted but even sadder over the loss of my friend.

"No," he hissed. "Do you remember the crystal machine that I told you about?"