James Marlon - John Crow's Devil

“Clarence, Clarence. What is this fight for? You think your hands long enough to box God? Sit down.”

He refused, even though he limped and swayed and was close to collapse. The chair leapt out from the corner and knocked him behind the knees. Tony Curtis and Brother Vixton grabbed him just before he toppled over.

“I hear that you’ve been refusing to let people help you.”

“I hear you did dead.”

“Well, here I am, so whose report do you believe?”

“Him should a kill you.”

“I’ll let him know. Now, Clarence, don’t you think that Mrs. Smithfield have better things to do than nurse wounds that you, you, Clarence, brought on yourself? You brought judgment on yourself, you know, Clarence, don’t forget that. Look at me.”

He refused at first but then his face felt strange. The Five were disturbed. Just as Clarence’s shoulders turned away from the Apostle, his head wrenched in the other direction. He strained against himself. Then his jaw betrayed him, following the twist of his neck. His face seemed to be tearing in two. Clarence gave up the fight.

“I said, look at me. There’s nothing you can do, you know, Clarence, only One will reign supreme here.”

The Apostle pulled up his chair in front of him and sat down.

“I’m concerned about you, my brother. You’re not handling God’s discipline well at all. What’s this I hear about you pissing in Mrs. Smithfield’s bed? About you spitting the soup back in her face? Imagine a big woman like her and a big man like you and she has to clean up your feces because you’re too worthless to use the toilet. Worse, Clarence, worst of all, you won’t let her treat your back. I can smell it rotting even now. Even now, puss is growing. But you don’t care, do you? You think you’re taking revenge on the Almighty. You think you’ll just kill yourself and let him watch. You think you’ll reject God’s discipline, because that’s what it was, you know, Clarence, God’s discipline. And God disciplines those whom He loves. Do you think I love you, Clarence?

“Clarence, I asked you a question.

“Clarence, there are ways.

“Clarence, the Lord is growing tired of—”

The Apostle’s nose was hit first. Phlegm that had been pooling in Clarence’s mouth from nausea shot from his lips. Brother Vixton, needing no cue, struck Clarence in the back of his neck and he fell from the chair, yelling. The Apostle wiped his face.

“Pick him up.”

Clarence struggled against The Five, strengthened by his insolence. Deacon Pinckney stuck a finger in his back and he yelled again. He released himself in their hands and was placed back on the chair.

“Clarence, I have forgiven you. You don’t know what you do. Nor do you know what I could do to you.” He leaned into Clarence and spoke softly. “There’s still a side of your body that hasn’t been whipped yet.”

Clarence pulled back.

“There’s no limit to what I will do for my Lord. You’re breathing right now because of God’s mercy and grace, because if it were up to me, I would beat the living daylights …” The Apostle raised his hand to strike and Clarence flinched, trembling.

“Look at you. You’re like a dog afraid of his master.” He leaned into Clarence again and whispered, “Are you ready to go to Hell? You think that once you get there you can come back? Well, my dear brother, you are certainly on that road. THIS IS WHAT DRAGGING YOU STRAIGHT TO HELL!”

The Five had not expected it either. They jumped along with Clarence, but the massive pain had struck him only, and he bowled over. Two of The Five held onto his arms. He could do nothing but bawl out loud. Tears wetted his lashes and flowed freely down his face. His scrotum was still in the Apostle’s grip.

“God says that if your hand offends you, you should cut it off. What do you think I should do, Clarence?”

Clarence shook his head, trying to say no. The words formed in his mind, compounding on each other, each thought more panicked than the one before. But they failed to leave his mouth. He choked on himself.

“This is how I have you, Clarence. Right in the palm of my hand. Keep up with this sinful defiance and I’m going to forget myself and make a fist. Am I going to have problems with you?”

Clarence shook his head once more. He could only look with horror between his legs and between the Apostle’s eyes. The Apostle had worked magic. He could not move.

“Good.” The Apostle released his grip. “Leave us,” he said to The Five. “Now. But turn on the light.”

Clarence winced in the light as The Five left. When Brother Vixton shut the door, the sound jolted him and he gasped.

“Look at you. You think you’re a man. But you’re barely a boy. Look at you.”

Clarence stared at the floor as he felt his muscles and limbs being freed. The pain in his belly was fading, but he clutched himself nonetheless. The Apostle stood up and put his hand on Clarence’s head. “Clarence, the Lord has plans for you, but the Devil has plans for you too. Have you even once thought about what you have lost because of your weakness? You should have brought that weakness into the Kingdom. There’s healing in the Kingdom, you know, Clarence. Miraculous healing.”

Clarence felt an itch in the small of his back. Then the itch got worse, moving up in curves, slants, and darts. Something, one thing, many things, were moving all over his back. He thought he was going mad. They crawled up to the tip of his shoulder and went back down, traveling the well-grooved tears in his skin. The Apostle had cursed him with snakes. He tried to scream, but his mouth was dead again. He could not move. Clarence fell into spasms, his limbs frozen. The Apostle seemed sure. The snakes rubbed their scaly stomachs all over his back and under his shirt. He was petrified in the chair, his legs bolted to the floor. From his lips came the faint shape of the cry. The Apostle picked him up like paper and carried him over to the mirror.

“Miraculous healing, Clarence. Miraculous healing.” Clarence tried to speak but the Apostle touched his lips and silenced him. York grabbed the tails of Clarence’s shirt and pulled them up. He did not want to see snakes, but he could not move. The Apostle raised a hand mirror to Clarence’s face and as he saw his back, his jaw fell. There were no snakes. His back was healing itself through the grooves of his wounds. The cuts closed like zippers and disappeared in the smoothness of his skin. He cried as his back left no trace of the whipping.

“Miraculous healing, Clarence. Do you want it?”

Clarence stared at his back in disbelief. The Apostle threw away the mirror.

“Follow me and I can lead you beyond pain, beyond sin, beyond miracles. I am the way, Clarence. I am the way. Beyond every single thing you thought about yourself. Beyond normal, beyond real. Every time you use this, this snake in your pants, you think you’re killing the Devil inside you. You know of which Devil I speak. The Devil you’ve been trying to kill since you were twelve. The Devil in you that was stealing looks between my legs just now when I was sitting in front of you. You’ll never kill it. Not through pain, not through sin. No matter how many times you come inside a woman, you’ll never kill your heart’s real desire.”

The Apostle touched Clarence’s crotch again, but this time he did not make a fist.

“Lucinda, tell them to go to the Johnson’s house,” the Apostle said while peering from the cracked door. “Oh, and Lucinda, tell them to carry cutlasses.”

When The Five got to the Johnson’s, the door was already open. Inside was dark, with the doorway at the back of the house an oblong of light. They passed through the house and followed the light outside. On the bottom step was Mrs. Johnson, her back bleeding and her arms wrapped around herself. She rocked back and forth, humming what sounded like a hymn. The breeze whispered through the trees, and looking up, they saw the reason for the cutlass. Swinging from a rope that hung from a high branch was Mr. Johnson, dressed for combat in his camouflage uniform from the World War. His arms were still and his neck was squeezed tight in a noose. At the foot of the tree, a blue stool was toppled over. The breeze whispered again and his body swung, agreeing.