George Saunders - Lincoln in the Bardo

And did that argument persuade? the woman said.

You know very well, you tart, that it did not! the Brit said. For here I am.

Here we all are, said the Vermonter.

And ever shall be, said the Brit.

Nothing to be done about it, said the bass lisper.

Nothing ever to have been done about it, said the woman.

roger bevins iii

Glancing over, I saw a look pass over the Reverend’s face — a flicker of resolve, or defiance.

hans vollman

To be grouped with these, accepting one’s sins so passively, even proudly, with no trace of repentance?

I could not bear it; must I, even now, be beyond all hope?

(Perhaps, I thought, this is faith: to believe our God ever receptive to the smallest good intention.)

the reverend everly thomas

Enough, the Vermonter said.

Down to business, said the woman. We have wasted too much effort on this one already.

The previous one? said the Brit. The girl? Much more amenable.

Wonderful child, said the woman. Completely passive.

Never gave us a bit of trouble, said the Brit.

Had our way with her just as pretty as you please, the bass lisper said.

Then again, she did not have all of this “help,” said the Vermonter.

True, the Brit said. No one helped her a single bit.

Young man? the woman said. Is it to be here ? Or on the roof?

roger bevins iii

The lad was silent.

hans vollman

On the roof, the Reverend said. If you please.

Very well, said the woman.

The carapace fell away at once, and the boy was free.

roger bevins iii

If I might request the honor of carrying him up there? the Reverend said.

Certainly, the woman said.

hans vollman

I reached down, picked the boy up.

Ran.

Out of the crypt and into the night.

Ran-skimmed.

Ran-skimmed like the wind.

Toward the only place that now held the slightest hope of affording him refuge.

the reverend everly thomas

Joyful, joyful!

An exceedingly bold stroke!

roger bevins iii

Bastard! the woman cried out wearily.

hans vollman

Mr. Vollman and I ran-skimmed out of the white stone home in pursuit of the Reverend.

roger bevins iii

A low wave burst out behind us, a moving knee-high wall comprised of whatever substance the demonic beings happened to be inhabiting in that instant (grass, dirt, headstone, statue, bench)—

hans vollman

Which passed us now—

roger bevins iii

(Like children in the surf, we were lifted, then set down again.)

hans vollman

— and overtook the Reverend.

roger bevins iii

Who, slapped and harangued by the matter-blur that plashed up all about him, broke down the small hill near the gardener’s shed.

hans vollman

The chapel now coming into sight, we suddenly understood his intention.

roger bevins iii

The demonic beings split into two divisions, as it were, coming up fast on either side of the Reverend, then performed a crossing maneuver, at knee level, tripping him up.

hans vollman

As he fell, to protect the boy, he instinctively rolled on to his back, so as to absorb the brunt of the impact.

roger bevins iii

And they had him.

hans vollman

Had them.

They sought the boy but, seeking the boy, pinioned the Reverend as well.

roger bevins iii

In their frenzy it appeared they were no longer capable of, or interested in, distinguishing between reverend and lad.

hans vollman

By the time we reached the Reverend and the boy, the two were bundled tightly together within a rapidly solidifying new carapace.

roger bevins iii

The Reverend’s terrible cries sounding from within.

hans vollman

They have me! he shouted. They have even me! I must — I must go! Good God! Mustn’t I? Or be trapped like this, forever—

Go, yes, by all means, save yourself, dear friend! I shouted. Go!

But I don’t want to! he shouted. I am afraid!

The choked, garbled quality of his voice told us that the carapace had reached his mouth, and then it seemed it had penetrated even into his brain, and was making him delirious.

That palace, he shouted at the very end. That dreadful diamond palace!

roger bevins iii

Then, from inside the carapace, came the familiar, yet always bone-chilling, firesound associated with the matterlightblooming phenomenon.

hans vollman

And the Reverend was gone.

roger bevins iii

The Reverend’s departure creating a temporary vacuity within the carapace—

hans vollman

Mr. Vollman gave the thing a tremendous kick, and caved it in.

roger bevins iii

As we fell enraged upon it, digging and clawing, I could feel the demonic beings within looking askance at us, repulsed by our ferocity, our revived human proclivity for hatred-inspired action. Mr. Bevins drove one arm in up to the elbow. From the other side, I was able to puncture the carapace with a long bough, and situating myself beneath that bough drove up with my knees, and the carapace split open, and Mr. Bevins was able to get his two arms fully inside. Letting out a shout of exertion, he began to pull, and soon, like a foal newly born (as wet, as untidy), the lad tumbled out, and for a second we were able to clearly observe, inside the ruptured carapace, the imprint of the Reverend’s face, which had not, I am happy to say, in those final instants, reverted back to the face we had so long associated with him (badly frightened, eyebrows high, the mouth a perfect O of terror), but, rather, his countenance now conveyed a sense of tentative hopefulness — as if he were going into that unknown place content that he had, at any rate, while in this place, done all that he could.

hans vollman

Mr. Vollman snatched up the boy and dashed away.

The demonic beings, flowing out of the remains of the carapace into the earth, gave chase.

Soon, from below, Mr. Vollman’s ankles were cuffed, and he tumbled to his knees, and the demonic beings, forming again into tendrils, shot rapidly up his legs and torso and began pioneering out on to his arms.

I raced over, plucked the boy away, dashed off.

And within seconds was myself overrun.

roger bevins iii

I leapt to my feet, raced over, plucked the lad away from Mr. Bevins, dashed off toward the chapel, and, just before I was again overrun, managed to fall forward, through the northernmost side-wall.

I know this place, the lad mumbled.

I expect you do, I said. We all know it.

For many of us, the chapel had served as our portal; our place of disembarkation; the last place we had ever been taken seriously.

hans vollman

The earth around the chapel began to roil.

Even here? I said. Outside this most holy place?

Holy, unholy, all the same to us, said the Brit.

Have a job to do, said the Vermonter.

Are compelled, said the woman.

Go in, send him out, said the Brit.

You merely delay, said the Vermonter.

We are gathering our strength, said the Brit.

Shall be in shortly, said the woman.

With a vengeance, said the Vermonter.

Send him out, snapped the lisper.

roger bevins iii

Mr. Bevins had just stepped in through the wall when, from the darkness at the front of the chapel, a pronounced manly throat-clearing told us we were not alone.

Mr. Lincoln sat in the front row of chairs, where he must have sat during the previous day’s service.

hans vollman

Tom as we neared front gate Pres catching sight of chapel said he thought he might go over and sit in that quiet place a bit if I did not mind and confided in me that he felt his boy was still here with him and could not shake that feeling but perhaps a few minutes sitting silent in that place of prayer might do the trick.