Marilyn Peake - The Other

Mary cried, I’m sure at that point from relief.

I asked how she felt.

Her body was trembling, but she said, “Good. Most o’ da pain in mah back is gone.”

I pushed a button. Table-length mirrors rose on either side of her. I said, “Look at your back.”

Forgetting modesty, she lifted herself up on her elbows, exposing her breasts. She gazed in the mirrors, a look of astonishment crossing her face. She said, “I’m healed.”

I said, “Just about. In the next couple of hours, everything will heal completely.”

She dressed. I gave her potion to drink that would speed the healing process. I wanted to give her stronger medicine, but this was the only one deemed safe for pregnant women. She said that it didn’t taste like anything she’d ever eaten or drank before, which had to be true. It came from a pungent plant developed and grown in the healers’ enclave.

After crossing the stream on our way back, gingerly balancing herself on the tree trunk, not needing any help this time, Mary turned to me and said, “May I pray tuh you fuh another favuh?”

I said, “You can.” We’d see afterward if I could answer it.

She said, “I have two babies dat was taken from me. Aftuh we escape, when I am truly free, I want tuh find dem. Will you watch ovah me and mah babies from heaven and help me find dem?”

I said, “Sure.” People from many eras prayed all the time. Hundreds, thousands of prayers went unanswered. No one really expected to have all their prayers answered. All those unanswered prayers just got tucked away in the back of people’s minds. They kept praying until the day they died, thinking God hadn’t gotten around to it yet. I knew I could promise Mary I’d help her and at the very end of her life, if she hadn’t been reunited with her children, she’d just tell herself I must have a long list of prayers to answer before getting to hers. On the other hand, if we found that the Law of Noninterference wasn’t necessary, I’d look for Mary’s children and bring her to them if she wanted. I liked this woman. She’d suffered enough.

By the time we stepped out of the forest, the moon was directly overhead. We walked to the barn and were coming around it when we heard loud voices.

Mary grabbed me by the arm. She said, “Oh, no, massuh’s back! He wasn’t supposed tuh be back tuhnight!”

We hid behind the barn.

Mary said, “Hear dat yellin? Dat massuh’s voice. He down by da men’s slave cabin—where Jessey and Henry sleep.”

We listened to the voices, and Mary told us who they belonged to.

Master: Where is Mary? You tell me right now! I ain’t gonna have any nigger o’ mine walkin’ off. I heard the rumors about you all plannin’ ta go get your freedom. Where is Mary?

His words were slurred, his voice growling.

Jessey: I don’t know wha Mary is. I don’t know. She wasn’t feelin’ good tuhday and went tuh huh cabin soon’s as huh work was done.

Master: You son of a bitch! You know where she is. You tell me right now!

Then, quiet. We watched as the plantation owner came up a hill and crossed the lawn into the main house.

Mary led the way down to the men’s quarters, which turned out to be a log cabin, but larger than the one Mary stayed in.

She ran up to one of two men standing outside the building. They embraced. I couldn’t hear what she was saying from where Waylon and I were hiding in the shadows.

Mary brought the two men over to us. The one she had hugged, obviously Jessey, had tears in his eyes. He said, “You are da sign we need. You ansuhed mah prayer fuh God and our guardian angels tuh watch ovah us. We leavin’ here tunight. We have people gonna get us all da way up north. It gettin’ dangerous here, since the massuh heard ’bout bunch o’ slaves leavin’ da plantation couple miles down da road.”

Dogs started barking. Torches moved in the night, burning through the darkness like fiery ghosts. Men shouted.

The plantation owner had gathered a bunch of men. I had no idea who they were. Neighbors? Paid workers?

He pointed at our group. I doubt he saw Waylon and me for what we were. We would have appeared only as humanoid shapes in the darkness. We moved behind two trees that were close to each other. He said, “Those two! You get those two!”

I thought for a moment he meant Waylon and me. It turned out he meant Jessey and Henry.

A group of men grabbed them and wrestled each of them over to a separate tree. Slamming their stomachs against the bark, they pulled their arms around the trunk and tied their hands together on the other side. They ripped their shirts off their backs.

Then, Whack!

I’ll never forget the sounds of the shrieking, the barking dogs, the Twack! of the whips.

By the time it was over, the plantation owner’s words had become increasingly slurred. Drinking from a glass bottle and wiping his mouth on his sleeve, he shouted in a primitive, animalistic voice filled with rage, “Hang ’em! They were plannin’ to leave anyway. They’re all free now! All the niggers are free—can you even imagine that? My property, all gone. You make an example outta them right now! Boys, bring the rest of ’em out. Make ’em watch!”

Mary ran out of the shadows. Waylon tried to grab her. He reached too far as she tore herself from his grasp. He fell—right into the area lit by the moon and the flickering torches where everyone could see him.

Dogs continued barking. The people went deadly silent.

Jessey, Henry and Basil stared at him. I’m sure they thought an angel had stepped up to save them, that he would use some kind of supernatural power to smite their enemies and rescue them.

The other men, the tan ones now restraining barking dogs on leashes to keep them from attacking, also stared. They did not think we were angels.

Perhaps aided by alcohol, the plantation owner recovered from the shock of encountering a type of humanoid creature he’d never seen before, at least enough to respond. He staggered closer to Waylon. Then, raising his bottle in the air, he shouted, “The niggers have brought a demon into our world! That nigger woman there—Basil—she came to us from Louisiana! Auctioneer told me nothin’ ’bout her except she’s strong and a good worker. Well, that may be, but I always suspected her of practicin’ voodoo. Just look at her eyes, all mysterious and lit with evil. There are times when her eyes are blank and a man can see his reflection in them. Deuteronomy 18:10: ‘There shall not be found among you any one that maketh his son or his daughter to pass through the fire, or that useth divination, or an observer of times, or an enchanter, or a witch…’ Men, let the dogs go!”

In his inebriated state, he seemed to expect the dogs to go after Basil because that’s what he had in mind.

I watched in horror as the dogs attacked Mary. He didn’t seem to care, as though he intended for her to be next.

Five large dogs raced toward her. They knocked her to the ground, sank their teeth into her flesh and shredded her alive. She screamed until she went unconscious or death took her.

I sat down with my back to the closest tree, held my stomach and wept in silence. Tears poured down my face. I was terrified for Waylon. I wanted to help, but I thought the best way to do that was to remain hidden. If Waylon or any of the slaves ran into the forest, I’d run with them to the pod, hide them under its camouflage cover and then move them somewhere else in space-time. If I made myself visible, I’d never win against the plantation owner, his men and the dogs. I realized that I could turn my empathy level way up, so that I’d begin sharing thoughts and feelings with everyone nearby. That would scramble the minds of everyone from the time period we were visiting, as their brains weren’t evolved enough to handle it. However, the degree of hostility and fear in their minds would either drive me insane or kill me and I’d be no help to anyone.