Сигрид Нуньес - Salvation City

Suddenly, an unwelcome picture of PW at around his own age rose to Cole’s mind: a boy on a bicycle, almost running another boy down. Outta my way, fag-boy!

Was that the kind of kid he had been?

A reptile child.

These thoughts knotted Cole’s stomach. They made him feel guilty and disloyal. Realizing that PW was staring sideways at him, he said, “Why did they make us turn around?”

“Don’t know, exactly. Maybe they got something back there they didn’t want us to see. Used to be moonshine stills you’d stumble on. Then it was marijuana crops. Now it’s meth labs. Or maybe it’s already on to something new.”

“Why didn’t you tell them you were a preacher?”

“Wasn’t sure how they f-felt about p-preachers.”

Cole didn’t understand what there was about what had just happened to put PW in such a good humor.

“Do you think they’re believers?”

“Do believers usually take the Lord’s name in vain?”

Cole hesitated before his next question. “Didn’t you want to try and save them?”

PW laughed so loud Cole was sure it could be heard as far as gunshots would have been.

“What, you think it’s like some kind of magic formula I carry around? You can’t convert the pagan without the power of the Holy Spirit. I was praying hard up there, and looks to me like Jesus heard. But the Spirit never took hold.”

But before they started walking again, PW did offer a prayer for the men: “Father, may they come to find you and know you and choose life.”

Later that day, they drove home. By then the encounter with the three men—which PW pointed out had lasted probably all of five minutes—no longer felt like such a big deal. Cole would have been glad to forget what now seemed to him a cowardly overreaction on his part.

They stopped for dinner at a Dairy Queen. The sun was low but still bright, so they ate their burgers and fries at a picnic table outside.

“By the way,” said PW, “what happened this morning? With the Three Stooges back there? No reason Tracy’s got to know any of that.”

Just then a minibus driven by a man in a black baseball cap pulled up and about a dozen boys jumped out. The boys were all somewhere between the ages of eight and fifteen, and everything about them, from their sloppy clothes to the aggressive way they fought to be the first to reach the restaurant door, announced that they were orphans. As they passed the picnic table their eyes burned into Cole, this creature they could have ripped to pieces out of envy: a boy with a father.

When they were on the road again, PW said, “You seemed to take to the woods, Cole. Did my heart good to see it. And if you don’t want to learn to hunt doesn’t mean I can’t teach you how to track. Nothing like getting close to an animal in its natural habitat. My daddy said he once got close enough to touch the tail of a fox. Sorry we didn’t see any bear. But black bear’s on the rise around here. We go back, chances are good we’ll see one sometime. And you can forget what them old boys said. Bear are all up and about this time of year. Except maybe the really lazy ones.”

Cole nodded. He definitely wanted to go back sometime, but he was thinking he didn’t want to go into the woods again unless he, too, had a gun. First he’d have to learn how to use one, of course. Tracy would be pleased, but he’d have to be careful not to let on what had brought about his decision. It struck Cole that he was looking forward to seeing Tracy when they got home, which meant that, though he might not have known it, he must have missed her.

He said, “Do you think they knew you had a gun?”

“Yeah, they probably figured. Like they figured it wasn’t something they had to worry about, neither.” He laughed, and again Cole wondered what it was about those men that kept tickling PW’s funny bone.

“Are you going to tell the police?”

“Tell who? Tell what? Did you see a crime being committed?”

“I meant, like, if there really was a meth lab or something.”

“You see a meth lab or something?”

“No, but you said—”

“Hold on, Cole. Whatever I said, here’s what I think. I think the best thing is for us to forget all about those dudes. Nothing happened, no one got hurt. And if there’s a lesson in all this, it’s that sometimes the right thing to do in a bad situation is to walk away from it. Not to worry about who’s a bully and who’s a coward, just beat a retreat. But the police. Well. I don’t like the police. Might as well say it: I don’t like the law. My daddy used to say, Too much law ruined this country. Jesus taught there are things that belong to Caesar and things that belong to God. But when you look at the big picture—the laws, the courts, the tax collectors, and all the rest—seems to me way too much is going to Caesar and not enough to the Lord. Sometimes I think if it was up to me, I’d rather let the bad guys go than condemn them to one of Caesar’s prisons—especially after what happened with the flu.”

Cole knew he was talking about the men’s maximum-security prison about fifty miles north of Salvation City where he sometimes preached, and where he had brought many inmates to Christ.

“Imagine being locked up with dead bodies and no way to escape. If everyone was too sick or scared to stay and do their job, they should have let the men out. At least give them a fighting chance! I was there when they finally unlocked those gates, and it was like going back in history. I felt like one of those GIs that liberated the concentration camps. Stacks of corpses and a handful of walking skeletons, alive but half out of their minds. Same thing happened all over. You tell me, where was Caesar then?”

Where was God? Cole was thinking—but his eyes were closing. He didn’t want to talk anymore. He hadn’t slept well either night in the tent, and he was exhausted. His muscles burned from trudging so many miles. His limbs felt rubbery. His head lolled. He wasn’t sure if he was dreaming or if he actually heard PW’s phone ring.

He woke to find the blond man driving the van and the other two making out in the back.

He woke to find the van surrounded. The man in the black baseball cap and the orphans were trying to tip it.

He woke when the van hit a familiar little dip in the road that came just after the last turnoff.

It was dark out now. Light rain was falling. But why were they stopping? Why was PW sitting there with his head on the steering wheel? “Did we run out of gas?”

Slowly PW raised his head, and Cole could tell that he’d been praying.

“Hey, son.” His eyes were strange—glassy, like a drunk’s, or like someone who’s just had a scare. “Tracy called while you were asleep. We got a surprise waiting at home.”

“What surprise?” He was thinking it must be something to do with his birthday. But there’d already been a special dinner and presents and cake the day before they left to go camping. Maybe it was a present someone had dropped off late. But Cole was too tired to feel much excitement.

“You’ll see in a minute,” said PW, starting to drive again. “Nothing bad, don’t worry. I just want you to be prepared.”

A bat squeak of warning pierced Cole’s fatigue.

A strange car was parked outside the house.

“Tell you what,” said PW. “Let’s not mess with unloading tonight. We can do it in the morning.”

“In here, y’all!”

They followed Tracy’s voice to the living room. She was sitting on the couch, but Cole didn’t see her. All he saw was the ghost at her side. For the second time that day Cole felt the weight of PW’s heavy hand on his shoulder. Then the room tipped. Cole shut his eyes. When he opened them again, his mother was still there.