Chapter 9

"John" I mumbled.

"Mary's with him. Come on, we need to get him to a doctor. If you can manage it, we could use your help getting him up the hill."

I propped myself up on my elbow and looked over at the big man. They had pulled him out of the water. His shirt was off and Mary was cleaning and bandaging his gunshot wound. Radio was sitting beside him in the mud. John's head was propped up on that lifesaving backpack. His eyes were open but showed he was somewhat worse for the wear.

"Well, I see you decided to wake up. I don't much appreciate you using me for bait on your trot line Uncle Tom." He smiled weakly. "Man could catch a cold before he caught a fish."

I stumbled to my feet. "Now John, I never said I was much of a fisherman but Lord knows I'm not stupid enough to bait my line with somethin' as ugly as you. No self respectin' yella cat would be caught dead havin' you for dinner." I dropped to my knees and hugged his big carcass. Tears came to my eyes.

"I love you man..." There seemed to be something lodged in my throat. For once I couldn't think of anything smart to say. I held onto his hand and gazed into the pained eyes of my big friend. Finally, Mary tapped me on the shoulder.

"Come on Tom. Several of the others are still missing. We have to get John to a hospital and find the rest."

I sat up, suddenly remembering..."Joey and John Jr., they were in trouble."

James Purcival looked at the ground. "Jesse called on the car phone a few minutes ago Tom. She said Sam, Dusty and Ricky showed back up at the house with the two cats. They told us about the trouble at the shelter." He looked up. "There's been no sign of the two boys." He paused for a minute to let the news sink in for John and me. "I'm sure they're okay, but we do need to get busy and find them."

I nodded, heaved my groaning bones to an upright position and grabbed one end of the tarp that John was lying on. "Come on you guys," I said. "Lets get this tub of lard up the hill. I need a bath." I tugged hard at the makeshift stretcher and almost blacked out. Mary saw me stagger.

"You okay Tom?" She put her hand on my shoulder.

"Yeah" I said "Guess that swim took it out of me more than I thought." I smelled like the bathroom in an auto repair shop. The cuts and bites from the dogfight at the shelter were swollen and sore. I could barely hold myself up. I dug down for some hidden store of strength still unused. Someone tugged on the leg of my wet pants.

"Use the light, Uncle Tom. Call the light to help you." I looked down at the little black boy. He always showed up at the damndest times. My vision was blurry. I couldn't understand what he meant. I leaned back and looked up at the sky, trying to clear my head.

The hazy, crystalline, first light of morning lay on the tops and sides of the buildings above but would not grace the subterranean hollow through which we had to drag John's wounded body. My attention was drawn to it as I gathered my resources for the struggle ahead.

The light was calling me. I lost all consciousness of Radio, James and Mary. I forgot the gnawing cries of my body, worries about Joey and John Jr. and the whole impossible, topsy turvy craziness of my life. Only the light filled my mind...beckoning.

Only the crackling, vibrating light pulled me ever upward. Only the fine, shining day...swollen with power...called me by name..."Come my favorite son. Come to me, my darling boy, my straight and true heart, my strong and daring love. Come to me..."

A shimmering, luminous wisp of light wove through the sparkling sky and touched me. A twinkling dazzle of glitter washed through my body, cleansing and nurturing. John's body felt light in my arms. My faithful friend was no burden in the light. The light would carry us. The light would cleanse us. The light would make us whole.

Shining, scintillant music, a symphony of fire and sunbeam, burst upon my heart. I was transfixed... resplendent...obliviously joyful in glimmer and blaze. I sailed on luminescent wings above a landscape of flare and radiance. All things were possible in a creation of impeccable beauty and order. I was struck by the extraordinary honor and glory of being, lost in endless wonder at each moment.

I was found. I was home. I truly belonged here, dancing in the sun. I was rocking again in my golden mother's arms...loved without qualification or boundary.

I opened my eyes. We were driving through the streets of Houston. Mary and Radio were in the back seat holding John Sr. He leaned against Mary with his eyes closed and a peaceful smile on his lips. Radio looked at me like he didn't know who I was. I felt wonderful and refreshed from my daydream and wasn't ready to worry about what he was thinking.

I turned on the radio, thumbed through the stations, and found a real prize. "It's a Wonderful World"...not the Willie Nelson version which is okay too but the original by Satchmo...pure classic. Obviously fate was on my side.

James Purcival looked over at me from the driver's seat. He had the same look in his eyes. "Mr. Bowie, can you hear me?"

"Sure James," I laughed "...and don't call me Mr. Bowie. I can't be that much older than you."

We traveled in silence through the early morning light of the city. The traffic was light. The few people in business suits that we saw on the streets were attacking their day with eager resolve. Delivery people, policemen and construction workers took their solitary early morning coffee at the doughnut shops. People stretched and yawned waiting for the bus.

"It's a beautiful morning isn't it." I mused and as if by divine decree, Satchmo finishes and on comes Ray Charles awesome version of "Oh What a Beautiful Morning." I laughed out loud...favored son indeed. The world that had seemed to be coming apart a few hours ago seemed very far away.

"Tom?" Mary spoke softly in the back seat. "Tom, do you remember what happened back there?"

I was still preoccupied with the glorious morning. Ray Charles is sooo fine. I didn't know what she meant. Funny though, I did seem to have a memory lapse...I must have passed out. "What part of it Mary?"

"Tom," she paused "Do you know that you carried John up the hill and put him in the car?"

"Well, I guess my attention wasn't on it. I figured we must have gotten him up here somehow. I mean, he's in the back seat." Mary was a great lady but she could be a bit of a fussbudget. I couldn't imagine what could be such a big deal on a beautiful morning like this. I gave her a big smile. She wasn't impressed.

"No Tom, we didn't carry him. You did...by yourself. You picked him up like he was light as a feather and walked up the hill and put him in the car." She paused and studied my expression. "You walked right up a 45 degree incline on a muddy slope, without slipping, carrying a 280 pound dead weight." She held up her muddy hands. "Tom,the rest of us had to scramble on our hands and knees. It still took us minutes and each others help...Tom," She gave me a piercing look. "...how did you do that?"

I felt a wave of confusion wash over me. The reverie of the moment before was lost in uncertainty. How had I done that? If I had done it, why didn't I know about it? And anyway, I had been so spent back on the bank of the bayou, I could barely stand. How could I have even lifted John's massive bulk much less carried him?

"I don't know Mary. My `friend' came. He told me to use the light. I thought it was a daydream." James Purcival looked preoccupied. "Act of power." he said under his breath. He seemed both agitated and excited. "I have seen it before.. when I was a boy. An old medicine man of my grandfather's people. He did something like that. I had put it out of my mind. I thought I had imagined it." His eyes became furious, alive with a fire and abandon that I hadn't seen in him. "The time has come. The return of the old ways. I knew it." He seemed to be talking to himself.

Now I was a "medicine man". Jeez, check out for a few minutes on an interesting fantasy and everybody goes nuts. That little black boy had real knack for getting me in trouble.

I looked over James Purcival, seeing a side to the man that surprised me. I would have guessed from his dress and poise that he was much more familiar with Manhattan nightlife and French wine than buckskin and pinion nuts. He had told Jesse he had family on the Mescalero Apache reservation in New Mexico but had been unwilling to say much more. My alleged `Act of Power' seemed to have brought the primitive out from behind the mask of the cultivated man.

James Purcival was a hard guy to figure out. At first I had avoided him. Besides the fact that I disliked anyone that good looking on principle, he was very withdrawn and private. Variety said he had been a major donor for the wardie kids at St. Maddy's for years and yet I had never met him. I thought I had been around long enough to know almost everyone involved in that school. He must have been private almost to the point of being a recluse.

Even though I had been with him quite a bit the last few days, I hadn't been able to get very close to him. He was quiet and a bit formal. I never knew what he was thinking.

To add insult to injury, he and Jesse had hit it off from the start. They shared certain character flaws that drove me crazy. They were practical, competent, well-organized and highly professional. These particular personality defects were forgivable in Jesse as she had the good taste not to demonstate them very often in my presence. Purcival, however, practically reeked competence.

As far as I am concerned, anyone smarter or more capable than I am should be shot at sunrise...unless it's the weekend of course...in which case they get a couple of extra hours. Such traits in a to-die-for-handsome man who was buddying it up with my wife made me want to invite him out on the playground for some one-on-one...and play dirty.

My jealousy embarrassed me. The man had never been anything but a gentleman to my knowlege. Certainly his actions in the last few days were beyond reproach. It was shallow, petty and useless for me to be jealous of his relationship with my wife...Jesse would do what she wanted to in any case. Still, every time she mentioned his name, something went sour in my stomach.

"Whose `old ways' are you talking about Mr. Purcival?" My voice was a little stiff.

He seemed almost in a trance and didn't notice the edge on my voice. "My grandfather told me that his tribe were the N'de, `the people'. He said `Apache' was what the Zuni people, the ones who built huts of mud called us. They called us `Apache', which means `enemy', because we were great fighters.

"He said truely we were called `Tcicihi' which means `people of the forest'. When I was young he told me the story of how our people came to this world.

"He said our people came from the lower world where there was no light. Our people wanted to know if there was another world so they sent Wind above to find out. But Wind did not return. Then they sent Crow, but he did not come back either. Next Beaver went out but he did not return. Finally they sent Badger, and Badger came back and told them about the world above.

"The people then sent four men to look over the world above. They were called by the word that means Indians. These four took the flat, dry land and formed it for the people. They made mountains and hills and arroyos and water. Then they called up all the animal people and tree people, the bird people, the grass people...even the rock and plant people. Then the real humans came out.

"When the humans came out of the lower world they began to walk around the earth in a great circle clockwise and different tribes settled in different places. At the very end of the journey, he said, the N'de dropped off. We were the last people to find a home."

This was the most I had heard him say in one sitting. His voice told the story much as it must have been told him. He spoke with reverence, rhythm and meter, like he was reciting a sacred poem. I turned the radio off.

"Then the moon, Changing Woman, had a son named Killer-of-Enemies. Killer-of-Enemies forced the monsters Buffalo, Antelope and Eagle to serve man. He gave the people horses and all good things. He taught the people, then he went away to the Guadalupe Mountains." He paused at the end of the story. The rest of us sat spellbound by the marked transformation in the voice and manner of the man.

"To my people all things are alive. All things of the earth are of the same spirit, the same essence. We respect the spirit of these things. We stand with face and arms raised toward Ussen every day." He paused for a moment. I think he was beginning to notice how much he was exposing his true self. He was quiet for a moment as he negotiated a corner.

"This story is at the heart of what it means to be N'de. It has been passed down from the elders of the tribe to each new generation for hundreds of years." We stopped at a red light. He turned to look at me.

"My people were political primitives compared to many of the cultures of the Amerindians." His voice took on a more academic tone. "We were a late migration from the north. Our society was formed around individual autonomous bands based on family units and territory. The N'de had no overall political unity like the more sophisticated tribes. We were proud of our freedom and independence. We were strong, great fighters. A N'de band, including women and children could cover over a hundred miles a day on foot if need be and live for months on nothing but sotol cakes, agave and mesquite beans.

"By the time your pilgrims were landing, we had carved out a great empire over most of what is now Colorado, New Mexico, Arizona and Texas.

His voice chilled. "Then in the seventeen hundreds, as you white eyes reckon time, the Comanches swept down from the north. We fought the Spanish invaders in the south and the Anglos to the east. We were caught in a vise and though we fought valiantly, we could never fight together. By the end of that century, the N'de were broken."

"By 1870 almost all Apaches had been placed on reservations. My grandfather's grandfather was of the Mescalero clan. His wife was a Lipan Apache from the plains of Texas. In 1878, my grandfather's grandfather was driven from the reservation given his people by treaty near Ojo Caliente. The army sought to move us to a desolate place called San Carlos where we knew our people would die.

Our people joined the Mescalero war chief, Victorio, and raided and killed the whites all over west Texas and Northern Mexico. We were hunted like animals for eight years. Victorio and most of the other braves were killed by Mexican troops in the Tres Castillos mountains south of El Paso but those that survived fought on." He hit the brakes to avoid a speeding delivery truck, muttered a curse in spanish, and began again.

"Victorio's war became the war of Cochise, Juh, Chihuahua, Nana and finally Geronimo. It was the last war of the N'de against the invaders who had taken our lands. In 1886, the last remaining warriors surrendered and were sent like cattle on trains to Florida.

"My grandfather's grandfather survived these battles. He and a few of the other remaining warriors saw that the long dark winter of the N'de had come. They formed a secret clan to preserve our people and the words passed down to us by Changing Woman and Killer-of-Enemies. My grandfather taught me these things when I was young in a special place known only to the elders of this N'de clan...It is a small hidden valley with a waterfall that tumbles over a cave near what is now Lincoln National Forest." He looked over at me. "Joey and Nam describe it perfectly."

Another mystery! This was all leading up to some critical point. What were the children to this Indian? What did the Awakening mean to this private man that was driving him out of his veiled existence?

"Tell me James," I met his gaze. "How did you come to live in Houston?" I really meant "Why are you here?" but I didn't have the guts to ask. I think he knew the real question.

We stopped at a street light. His hands clutched the wheel. I could see the muscles in his cheek clinching. He was obviously in some kind of emotional turmoil. "My mother married out of the tribe. She and my father were rejected by the people. My grandfather had to teach me the ways of the N'de in secret..." The light changed. Purcival hit the accelerator a bit too hard. "I hated my people for not accepting me. I hated the white man for what they had done to the N'de...I turned away from my parents, my people and everyone. When I was fourteen, I ran away. I swore I would beat them all." His body tensed as his story reached a climax.

"I never saw my parents again. They were killed in an automobile accident a few years later. I found out about their deaths when I returned to the reservation after ten years to brag about my success in the white world." A deep sadness seemed to settle over him. He looked down at his lap. A cruel smile licked his lips. "Grandfather was not impressed. He did not care about the money I had made, the things I had acquired. He scoffed at me and said I had lost myself...He was right."

He looked over at me. "When I saw you carry John up that hill, I remembered. I remembered what my grandfather had taught me. He said a day would come when the spirit of the earth would return. He said Changing Woman would birth another child, that this child would bring spirit power back to the N'de and the other humans who came from the world below. He said Killer-of-Enemies would return with his brother Child-of-the-Waters and battle the monster of ice who has eaten the heart of the white man. He said the battle would be great but the monster would be defeated and thrown into the world below. The eyes of the white man would be opened so that he could see all the other peoples of the earth."

Radio leaned up against the front seat. "Wow Mr. Purcival, that's a cool story." His eyes were big. "Is this the time when Killer-of-Enemies returns? Whoa! That would be radical. Do you think we'll all be able to do magic stuff when we get to the waterfall? You don't think he's gonna kill me just because I'm white do you? I mean I'm sorry about the cowboys and Custer and everything..." I interrupted him as we were driving into the entrance to the emergency room.

"Radio, I'm sure James will answer your questions when he can but we've got to get Big John inside." I put my hand on Purcival's shoulder. "Thanks for telling us your story. I'm honored that you shared it with us."

He looked grateful, like he had expected something different. "I've never told a white...anyone except my own people that story. I guess I blew my cover." He grinned sheepishly as he started out the door of the Mercedes. "These are magic times Mr. Bowie, magic times. The old stories may not live up to the new ones."