Hari Kunzru - Gods Without Men

“Blue car,” he said. “Red car. Red car white car black car blue car white car.”

She felt as if she were being kidnapped. Strap-hanging on the subway, she’d sometimes see another passenger reading a Bible. Usually they were black or Latino, heading in to minimum-wage jobs in the city. Cleaners, custodians. She’d always imagined their faith in God as primarily a protective thing. Warding off debt, family illness. Their Bibles were usually well thumbed, often in foreign languages. Sometimes passages were underlined or highlighted with fluorescent marker. She’d always felt not above, exactly, but far away from such people. Now she wished she had her own dog-eared, familiar book, something she could clutch in her hand as they made that terrible journey.

At the airport Jaz parked the car in the long-term parking lot and carried the cases toward the terminal. She wondered if she ought to make a run for it, perhaps find a cop. What should she say? Jaz was so determined. Unless she could have him arrested, committed to a mental hospital, there was no way of stopping him. She imagined herself carrying Raj, fleeing along a moving walkway. It was useless. Maybe, she told herself, by going along with this, she’d help him see how lost he was.

They bought tickets for Las Vegas and sat warily in the lounge, half watching TV. News commentators were arguing about the war. The withdrawal from Iraq. The ramping up of operations in Afghanistan. There were brief images of mountains, bleak sandy desert. It was like a premonition.

“Are we going on a plane, Mommy?” asked Raj.

“Yes, dear.”

“Are we going to see Grandma Patty and Grandpa Louis?”

“No, baby. We’re just going to where you were when you were away.”

“Where’s that?”

Jaz leaned forward so he could hear. “Where you were. When you went away. You weren’t with us.”

“I couldn’t see you.”

“That’s right.”

“I was asleep.”

“No, Raj. Not when you were asleep. When you didn’t see us for a long time.”

“I went night-night.”

“No, Raj.”

“Leave him, Jaz. Leave him alone.”

Secretly she’d been sending texts. SOS messages to her mom, to Esther. Jaz behaving manically. Forcing us to go back to desert. Please help . When her mom called, Jaz looked over sharply. Don’t pick it up, he said. Don’t answer.

The flight was interminable. At McCarran they waited in line to rent a car. Neither would leave the other alone with Raj, each convinced that there would be trickery, that the other would try to sneak off. She hung around outside the men’s bathroom while Jaz and Raj were inside. When she needed to pee, she insisted on taking the boy in with her, even as he complained he didn’t need to go and she was hurting his wrist.

Locked in a cubicle, she called Esther.

“Are you OK?” she asked. “Has he threatened you?”

“No, nothing like that. But he says Raj isn’t Raj. That the real Raj has been replaced by something else. He thinks if we go back to the rocks we’ll solve some kind of mystery. He’s gone crazy, Esther. I don’t know what to do.”

“Why ever did you let him get you on a plane?”

“Oh, I don’t know. It seemed simpler. I thought if I let him go through with it, he might see how crazy he’s being.”

“You might be right. Once he gets there, he’ll probably calm down. How far away is it?”

“A couple of hours’ drive.”

“Do you want me to send the police?”

“I don’t know. What will they do? Jaz can fool people into thinking he’s normal. He’ll probably have some explanation for them.”

“I could call them anyway, let them know there’s a situation. It might be easier than you just grabbing one and causing a scene.”

“OK. Maybe. Oh, I don’t know. Look, maybe we should hold off. I’ll call you when we get there. If you don’t hear from me, phone them.”

“Good luck, dear.”

“Thanks, Esther. Speak to you later.”

Jaz was waiting outside the door, suspicious, antsy.

“What took you so long?”

She didn’t reply. She fitted Raj into the booster seat, then got in and waited for Jaz to settle himself. No harm can come to you, she thought. Not in any way that matters. You’re a child of a loving, personal God, whose infinite care and wisdom surrounds you now and forever. This is the world you live in. A world infused with the spirit of God.

It was late afternoon. Vegas ebbed away into drab suburbs, then trailer parks and vacant lots, fronted by billboards advertising future developments, casinos, personal-injury lawyers, evangelical churches, strip clubs. Then the land rose up in its full intensity, white rock tinted pale yellow by the lowering sun. Jaz turned off the interstate onto a two-lane blacktop. By now the land was burnished gold, the mountains in the distance a copper-red.

“We’re so close now,” he said. “Can you feel it?” It was the first either of them had spoken since Las Vegas. “I’m sorry I did this to you. I’m sorry I scared you. But can’t you feel it? Can’t you feel how right this is?”

“Yes,” she said. And, to her surprise, she meant it. The alien land was beautiful. The vast emptiness all around them seemed pregnant with something, some possibility she wanted to see made flesh.

They passed through a dilapidated settlement, a few houses with a gas station and a boarded-up motel. At the edge of town was a gnarled tree festooned with old sneakers, like a flock of crows sitting on its bare branches. The road climbed a ridge, then dropped down into a basin, where some kind of commercial chemical operation was taking place, sheds and huge tanks squatting on the flat. Then they climbed again, heading straight, or so it seemed, into the huge gold disk of the sun, right into its heart. A collision course.

Up ahead on the road, they saw flashing lights. A barrier had been erected. A highway patrol car was parked askew across both lanes. They pulled up in front of it and a policeman got out. Jaz rolled down the window.

“I’m sorry, sir. You’ll have to turn back.”

“I need to get to the Pinnacle Rocks.”

“Are you a local resident?”

“No.”

“Well, then, I’m afraid you’ll have to turn the car around. We’ve got a serious incident up ahead. It’s not safe to proceed.”

“What kind of incident?”

“I don’t know exactly, sir. I believe there’s been an explosion. Some kind of chemical release.”

“But I really need to get to the rocks. We’ve come a long way. From New York.”

“Is that right?”

“I’ve got my son here, my boy. He’s very tired.”

“Well, sir, then I don’t see why you’d want to be putting him in harm’s way. If you get back onto the interstate, you’ll see signs for a number of motels. There’s also a diversion sign posted about fifteen miles back.”

“You don’t understand. We need to get there. Is there another way?”

“I don’t know, sir. I’m just doing my job, and I’m afraid you’ll have to turn the car around and head on back in the direction you came.”

“Please. You don’t understand.”

“Sir, I’m not here to argue with you. This is not optional. Turn the car around and head back the way you came.”

Jaz swung the wheel. The narrow ribbon of road stretched away from them. Long shadows scored the sides of the mountains. They drove in silence. Lisa stole glances at him. His jaw was set, his eyes unblinking.

Suddenly, without warning, he turned off the road, bumping across the sand, a great plume of dust rising up behind them. Gravel skittered against the bodywork. There was a rhythmic thwack, the sound of creosote bushes hitting the underside of the car. Lisa braced herself against the dash.