Читать книгу Little Red War Gods - Patrick PhD Marcus - Страница 5

Dan’s eyes darted back and forth between the desert scenery of Highway 40 and the Expedition’s wood paneled glove box; the wrapped item entrusted to him was carefully nestled inside. He’d had to jam the owner’s manuals under the passenger seat to make room before he and Becka set off on the mission they’d been assigned. The eleven brothers who’d already completed their confirmations told Dan the item was essential for the mission to have the right outcome, though they’d been maddeningly cryptic about its true role.

While he drove, Dan pulled at Becka’s flaxen hair as she leaned in his direction from the safety of her bucket seat. He thought her hair was the most beautiful shade of blonde he’d ever seen. His friends gave him shit about how much he loved her, about the pile of teddy bears and long white candles shaped like intertwined lovers he’d gifted her. Their jokes never bothered him.

Dan was handsome. His curly black hair fell sideways across his forehead. He possessed a sharp wit and genuine interest in doing what was right. In a few months, he was supposed to attend Arizona State.

At last week’s gathering, the brothers voted unanimously for Becka and Dan’s marriage to take place the day after graduation. Needless to say the couple was excited, and eagerly agreed to drive Dan’s dad’s Expedition from suburban Phoenix into the enormous Navajo Indian Reservation, a place they’d learned to cherish and respect over the past four years of high school. Once in the reservation, Dan and Becka would finally be allowed to travel to a sacred place the Indians called Tsa-Zhin, Black Rock. There they would be married in secret through the consummation of their love, with the blessings of Earth Mother and the Lord God. Now, after getting lost a few times, they had arrived at the most important marker later than they’d wanted. The setting sun was a thin red snake across the rock-broken image in the rear view mirror.

“There it is,” Becka said, her voice sweet and excited as she pointed at a dramatic cactus stabbing forty feet into the air. “I guess the boys weren’t exaggerating. That’s one huge cactus…kind of creepy if you ask me.”

“That’s just a baby cactus,” Dan laughed, emphatically tapping his crotch through his jeans like a Morse coder sending up an SOS. Becka rolled her eyes and pushed his bare knee away from her. She gestured for him to pull over. Dan couldn’t help but see in Becka’s face that her usual steely stoicism, as pointed and beautiful as an icicle, had melted, revealing the happy, innocent girl he’d first met as a freshman.

With the headlights turned to bright, Dan’s eyes scanned the nearly concealed dirt roadway, which fell swiftly into a valley and disappeared. Dan revved the engine. Releasing the brake and pushing the gas slowly, he let the truck test the small, rough lip separating the highway from the trail. The tires gripped at hard earth and spit bits of rock through deep tread. The truck jolted forward.

Becka giggled nervously as she, too, looked out for any dangers in the gloom.

Dan turned off the satellite radio so he could concentrate. They drove for several miles in silence while the burnt red panorama of twilight succumbed more completely to each second’s deeper waves of darkness.

“Do you think we’ll ever meet the Little War Gods?” Becka asked. “Do you think they even exist? And please don’t tell me it’s a matter of faith.”

“I don’t know,” said Dan. “I only know that I love what we have become because of them.”

Becka frowned. “That is not an answer, as sweet as it is. Just tell me what you think. Have the Little War Gods returned? Are there really identical twins somewhere in the world that will rise to power over all Navajo?”

“You know the rumor, Becka. One of the twins is already on the reservation. He came here just before we were chosen for the Lord’s Indians by Father Matthew.”

“Rumor? We’re doing all this for a rumor? We checked the birth registry for the year the twins were supposed to be reborn and not a single Navajo family gave birth to male identical twins. Not any that survived, anyway.”

“Do you really think all the Navajo births are recorded accurately?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. I’m just trying to concentrate on this would-be road,” said Dan, mildly disgruntled. “Besides, what does it matter if the twins are Navajo by birth? The Navajo of legend are not the Navajo of today. There are no more pure bloods. There are no more pure religions. Purity is conflict.”

Becka looked at Dan thoughtfully. “Purity is conflict?” she mused. “I’m not sure if that’s necessarily true. But I suppose you aren’t necessarily wrong, either. It’s just easier to imagine that the twins who once saved the Navajo by killing all the monsters plaguing the tribe would look like Navajo today. Considering today’s ‘monsters,’ the whole thing would be a lot less ironic.”

“I like irony. The old spirit world of the Navajo was much different than the new world of today. The evils they faced were clearly evil: indestructible, disfigured giants who murdered indiscriminately. When the Twins killed them, the world was immediately better. That is their legend.”

Becka’s silence urged Dan to continue.

“Our church’s purpose and the purpose of the reborn Twins are entwined. The Lord’s Indians are to be twelve couples, one for each of the clock’s hours, there to defeat the Twin’s power should Christendom fail.” Dan paused for effect, scratching his chin with a slow rake. “We are the Keepers of the Bridge,” he concluded emphatically.

“I don’t think I ever realized until now how cryptic our fundamental faith is.” Becka was trying to sound agreeably nonchalant but realized she was only being gloomy. She tried to be positive. “How can the twins not accept Christianity when they arrive? Many of the Navajo are Christians themselves. Christianity has been a good thing—at least that’s what Matthew says. There are no obvious monsters any more. The twins couldn’t possibly see their own kind as monsters—could they?”

“We’re getting close to Black Rock I think,” said Dan, who hoped to change the subject before Becka got too upset and jeopardized the mission.

“Would the Little War Gods really go to war with their own kind?”

“It is possible. You know all that crap about ‘what lurks in the hearts of men.’”

Becka hissed to herself, but Dan continued.

“Potentially, the twins could see anyone with a Christian heart as invaders infected with a monstrous disease, a thing foreign to the Navajo old world. They might attack like a body attacks cancer.”

“Will everyone die?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think Father Matthew knows. I don’t think our Priestess knows.” Dan turned to Becka. “We are the Lord’s Indians because we do not know. If the twins attack, only our merged faiths—the hand of the Navajo Earth Mother bound to the hand of Jesus—can stop them.”

“Just one more question,” said Becka, unsettled by what she’d heard though they’d had this same conversation many times before.

“Okay.”

“What about the rest of the world? If the Little War Gods kill all the people who usurped their old world’s lands, that’s a lot of potential victims.”

“If the bridge falls…well, we can’t let the bridge fall. If—”

Before Dan could answer completely, Becka suddenly gripped his arm in warning. He stopped the truck several feet from a pool of shadows that cloaked a steep-looking drop off.

“Give me a sec,” said Dan, leaping out of the truck and disappearing into the watery blackness. He returned moments later. “We’ll just have to take it easy. It’s sort of steep, but I think we’re there. It’s at the bottom, like the brothers said.” Dan slipped the truck into third gear the moment he felt it gathering speed. They descended 150 yards, the drop not as steep or as long as it looked. As the trail leveled, Dan slowed almost to a stop, reluctant to follow the path through a curtain of rock that shot up on both sides. They were passing through the southernmost of four narrow gaps in the circular mesa that surrounded the hallowed stone. As the rock walls fell away, Becka and Dan had their first close-up view of Black Rock, which sat some fifty feet away at the circle’s center. Its features were nondescript at this distance, but it had the presence of a living thing. They were instantly mesmerized. Still a respectful twenty-five feet away, Dan put the truck in park and left the headlights on. Though he knew he wasn’t the first to enter this arena, he felt like an important adventurer.

“It’s like being in a giant nest. Maybe the rock is an egg?” Becka said, her face flushing with passion as she succumbed to the rock’s powerful spirit. Throwing her arms around Dan’s neck, she planted a bevy of kisses on his cheek. Unsatisfied, she crawled onto his lap, kissing him deeply and pulling at his curls, her knees digging into his thighs as she rose up and down. As Dan responded to her sudden desire, his eyes opened of their own volition, needing to assuage the irksome feeling that they were being watched. “Come on,” said Dan, wriggling away, his frustrated expression oddly contorted. “We have to do something first, outside.” They both clamored out the driver’s side door.“I hope this audience of titans doesn’t give you any performance anxiety,” said Becka as she ran ahead, twirling around with her arms outstretched.

“Hah!” shouted Dan, running after her around the opposite side of the stone she’d chosen. Outside of the headlights’ luminescent cone, they nearly crashed into each other. Becka laughed loudly at Dan when he stumbled, trying to avoid her.

Impulsively, Becka reached out to touch Black Rock, her hand coming ever so close before Dan grabbed her wrist.

“Wait.” Dan’s face betrayed a moment of concern. “The brothers said we can only touch the rock once. They said there was a good reason.”

“Okay,” said Becka. “But isn’t it amazing that even rocks have rules?”

“It will all be worth it. You’ll see.” Dan reached into his jeans pocket and produced a penlight. Its glow made a bright circle on the rock before them. Daniel moved the circle upwards until half of it disappeared some ten feet above as it diffused with open sky over the rock’s edge. The entire surface of the rock looked wet, an unexpected quality in the desert.

“You’re going to have to trust me on this part.” Dan looked into Becka’s eyes to see if he had her attention. “Squeeze your forefinger and middle finger like this,” Dan held his fingers together. “That’s it. Now, run them across the stone.”

Tentatively, she reached out and was surprised to find the rock—and whatever coated it—felt cool and silky to the touch, like cold paint. She liked the texture as it accumulated on her fingertips. She could see the foot-long impression her fingers had left. Dan imitated her stroke.

Dan fell to his knees before Becka. “Draw two angled lines down both of my cheeks. You are to make me a Navajo with the blood of their land by painting me for war.” For the first time, Becka looked at her fingertips and could see that the clingy substance was the color of fresh blood. The excitement she felt chilled her. She closed her eyes and imagined what Dan would look like when she was finished. Pressing harder than she meant to, she drew the first two lines on his left cheek. She could feel him staring up at her. She drew the second two lines. She was as excited to look at Dan on his knees with his face painted as she was to imagine what her own face would look like when he’d finished with her.

Even before he could stand, she dropped to her knees and held her head back. Uncertain what to do with the paint left on her fingers, she let her hand rest on her thigh, palm up. She resisted a sudden urge to taste it.

Dan wedged the penlight between his knees so its light cast up evenly between their bodies. With his unpainted hand, he brushed Becka’s hair from her eyes.

“You’re teasing me,” she said, her excess adrenaline causing her to shake.

“I am not,” said Dan. “I have something else for you.”

Becka looked genuinely disappointed that Dan wasn’t going to paint her.

“It’s almost time.” Dan’s tone was gentle; he was a gentle person. Carefully he applied the bulk of the paint from his fingertips to his left wrist in two thick lines. He pressed his forearms together, forming identical hashes on his right side. Becka watched, her curiosity apparent. “Cross your wrists and grab hold of my forearms.”

Becka complied, alarmed by the sense of pleasure she felt as the gel-like substance spread between their pressed-together flesh.

Thirty seconds passed. Neither of them moved. Instinctively, both kept their eyes tightly closed.

A minute passed.

Becka could feel her heart beating faster, her face turning flush.

Dan felt sleepy, and he was dimly aware of the pain in his shoulders from the strain of their awkward position.

Another minute passed.

Unable to take it any longer, her heart on the edge of bursting, Becka opened her eyes and pulled her hands back. She was shocked to see that, while the red remained gobbed on her fingertips, only a rapidly fading red line was visible on her wrists. Blinking, she could no longer locate it.

“Dan,” she said loudly, seeing that he was still in a stupor.

Dan shook himself awake with such vigor that his beaming smile was almost lost amid the motion of his head. “Wow. That was amazing.” He huffed for a few breaths. “You are bound to me now in Navajo blood and in Navajo spirit. Now only the binding of our Navajo bodies remains.” Dan spoke so quickly that the words ran together. Taking Becka by her left hand, he pulled her to her feet. “Come on. Let’s get in the truck.” As Dan pulled her along, Becka painted her face the way she’d painted Dan’s with the remaining paint on her fingers. Instantly she felt her entire body relax.

“Dan, wait.” He was just pulling the truck door open when he turned and saw her face. He laughed.

“You couldn’t resist, could you?” The paint was already disappearing into her skin as his had. Soon it would only be visible in just the right light. He reached for her face but stopped before his fingers touched her. Panic over what was to come next flooded his usually cool features; he’d been thinking about this night for almost four years. “I have a surprise for you.”

“Is it a ring? We are getting married,” said Becka in a shy but playful way, her eyebrows rising hopefully.

“Better! It’s something none of the other brothers gave their intended wives.”

“I love surprises,” she said, gazing at the sky. “It’s so dark tonight because of the rain clouds. Can you see the thunderheads? Wouldn’t it be breathtaking if they all breathed fire at once? You could see all the way to Heaven.”

Becka had hardly spoken the words when the black clouds above released a sinuous bolt of lightening, which crackled silently across the amphitheater’s rocky top. The shock of the initial bolt abating, Becka and Dan looked deep into each other’s souls. An enormous drop of rain hit Dan square between the eyes, and left them both laughing as they hightailed into the truck.