Chapter 7

For some reason I couldn't get that old Donovan song, "Season of the Witch" out of my head.

The last two days had gone by too fast for me. Saturday, little Dusty had taken us across the bayou to an abandoned city warehouse behind the zoo. It was only a walk of a couple of miles and she refused to go in our car, saying we might be seen. We tethered the horse at the house and all five of us crept through the damp woods, across a foot bridge over the bayou and around the back side of the zoo complex until we came to a battered equipment yard full of outdated tractors and other equipment the grounds crews must have used only in the summer.

The entire trip I kept feeling like we were being watched. I mentioned it to Dusty and she was evasive. Once I thought I saw a brown shape standing in some brush thirty or forty feet away, but when I stopped and tried to get a clearer view, it melted into the background.

Dusty talked as we trudged along. "There's bad grumps Mr. Bowie. There's very bad ones. Most grumps don't really care about kids but some are very bad. My uncle, he's the one what took care of me. He was bad. He useta hit me all the time, he useta hold me down and pinch me on the back and between the legs where the teachers at school couldn't see the bruises. He would get so mad." Anger and fear flickered across her face. "I used to hide in the shed where we boarded Libby for some people. Libby was my friend. When he hurt me I would go there and Libby would love me cause nobody else would." The hurt and outrage in her voice was almost tangible. "Coupla nights ago, I was hidin' in the shed cause I was talkin' to my new friend an he was gettin' really drunk. He came out in the shed with a belt yellin' for me."

She stopped and looked up at me. "I usta think it was my fault that he hurt me. I thought I was bad and that's why my momma left me with him. I thought I was supposed to be hurt but I don't think that no more. My friend says I'm good and he ought to love me." Her eyes were righteous and determined. "My friend says he was confused but I think he was just bad." Tears came to her eyes. She was almost shouting "Libby kicked him and I hope he's dead, really dead."

She stopped for a moment, choking back tears, her little fists balled at her side. We all waited, respecting her pain. After a few seconds she looked up, determination in her eyes.

"This is one tough kid!" I thought.

She stood there taut as a string, glaring up at Jesse and me. "My friend says I can trust you but I don't trust no grumps. I got animals now. I can hurt you. I don't want to but I will. I can kill you." Her voice was hard. She paused to let it sink in. "Where I'm takin' you is some hurt kids. You better do right. You better take care of them. I mean it."

I thought about the brown shadows in the woods and a shiver ran down my back. I had a feeling this kid wasn't making an empty threat. Jesse squatted down and offered the little girl a hug. "Dusty, I'm sorry grownups hurt you and your friends. Tom and I would never do that. We only want to help." The little girl stepped back from her comforting arms. It was going to be a while before she could trust again.

"Hell," I thought "what a world."

As we approached the equipment yard, several large dogs stepped out of hiding and bristled up, growling low in their throats. My first instinct was to pick up a stick to protect us but Dusty assured me the mutts would leave us alone as long as we didn't "act like grumps". I told her I wasn't sure I knew how to act any other way. Her grin was grim. I couldn't see anything funny in the situation either.

She led us through a hole in the fence and over to a door in the big shed near the middle of the yard. The bottom panel had been kicked out. She quickly scrambled through the opening then stuck her head out and motioned us inside. With some difficulty, I squeezed through the door panel. Jesse, Joey and Radio followed. As my eyes grew accustomed to the dim light in the room, I saw children and animals of all types, ages and sizes spread around the room. Small, dark shapes lurked on top of the old tractor, the dusty benches and a rusty mower. They huddled in little groups against the cold getting what warmth they could from each other, filthy blankets, and old newspapers they must have salvaged from the garbage.

Cats and dogs lay with them, some obviously hurt. A small black girl sat in one corner holding a large labrador mutt who was covered in blood. The animal was too weak to even lift its head as we entered. Several other children stood around a makeshift bed on top of the oil caked slab of plywood. Two small shapes lay in the squalor of rags and newsprint piled up to provide some barrier between their small bodies and the cold ground.

We stood there frozen, paralyzed by their clear, purposeful eyes... eyes that were much too old... eyes that had seen too much. I felt distinctly uncomfortable, somehow false in the face of those eyes. They offered no accusation but I stood accused.

Dusty waved us over to the two bedraggled shapes on the plywood bed. "This is the worst ones. This little girl can't wake up." She pulled back the soiled blanket. Jesse caught her breath, tears coming to her eyes. "Oh Tom" she said as she knelt down to pull the stringy blond hair out of the face of the little girl on the right. The child was naked except for a filty T-shirt that had hiked up over her navel. She was barely breathing and obviously had not eaten properly for a long time. Her legs were thin, every ligament standing out. Her stomach fell back into a ribcage that was mostly a series of black and purple bruises. As Jesse ran her hands over her little body, searching for breaks, she found several other ugly contusions and scrapes. One cut just behind the hairline was covered with matted hair and dried blood.

The child lay in a foetal position, her legs tucked to her chest. Jesse carefully turned her on her back and pulled her naked limbs down on the matted newpaper beneath her. I was checking out the little boy who was laying next to her when Jesse suddenly let out a horrified gasp and burst into furious tears. "Oh no...how could anyone...Oh you poor baby."

I looked over and felt my stomach jump into my throat. The child's loins were a sickening wreck. She was oozing blood from her vagina. The inside of her thighs were horribly bruised and scratched and small burns that must have been from a cigarette covered her pelvic area.

Jesse fell into my arms shuddering uncontrollably. I was having a hard time keeping down my supper. I staggered on my knees in shock and we rocked back and forth in pain and horror. Radio and Joey stood back from us, slow understanding coming to their faces. The rest of the children sat looking at us, no sign of emotion, no sign of sorrow or compassion.

"Grumps did this mister, grumps did it to us all." Dusty stood with her fists up like a miniature prize fighter. Her voice grated. "The friends say we must forgive. They say grumps don't know no better. Is that right mister. You don't know any better?" In all my life, I had never hit a child. Why was I feeling like I had? "Who's fault is it, Mr. Bowie?"

I was too horrified to answer, too ashamed of my race, too full of rage and pain and anger. All I wanted to do was find the person who had tortured that child and hurt them, make them pay. I shook all over. Pushing away from Jesse, I jumped to my feet and let out a choked scream and slammed my fists against the side of the shed.

One of the children reached over and touched my leg. She looked frightened. "Don't be mad at us." she said "We're sorry, don't be mad." I looked down at her grimey little face and got a hold on myself.

"I'm not mad at you. I would never get mad at you." I said. She pulled back as I reached to touch her cheek and brought her hand up involuntarily to protect herself. "I won't hurt you little one. I promise...I won't ever hurt you." Searching her eyes I couldn't think of any reason she should believe me. I went back to where Jesse was trying to clean up the little girl with the pitiably inadequate first aid kit we had brought.

"Jess, we need to get these kids back to the house and get them warm and clean. We need some help, some of these kids need real medical attention, way more than we can give them..." She interrupted me.

"This girl won't last that long Tom, she's real bad. I don't know what to do but she stops breathing. Twice I thought she was gone."

As I settled down beside her, the battered child's eyes fluttered open. Jesse and I sat back in surprise.

Her eyes burned with a fire from another world. "I can see it, friend," she said in a soft, high voice "...I can see...It's beautiful." There was awe in her voice. "It will be happily ever after...happily ever after. I see... I see." She started to convulse, her eyes wide open. She shook once, then again. Slowly she began to relax, a strained but beautiful smile transformed her dingy face, then she let out a slow, hissing breath and was quiet.

Jesse and I were stunned. I kept hearing her words over and over in my head as I looked down and watched the light fade slowly from her eyes. "It will be happily ever after...happily ever after."

"Come on Uncle Tom, this white man's school ain't got no more use for black folk an hippys." She said gently. "Let's go home."

I pulled myself slowly out of the swing and looked up into the noonday sky. The sun burned helplessly behind the thick grey clouds. "Light is everywhere," I thought "but nobody can see a damn thing."

I wrapped my right arm around John Sr.'s substantial shoulders. "John, I need to talk to you about proper etiquette when entering rooms unannounced. I do believe you might have offended that servant of the law back there."

"Yes" he chuckled "Exits and entrances have always been difficult for me."

Variety shook her head "I just can't take this ol' garbage man anywhere. I swear I think he was raised in a barn."

That Donovan song slid back into my head...