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The front door creaked open, and Emmett tottered onto
the porch, hefting his shotgun. He aimed over their heads
and let go with a round.
The three men jumped back, letting Simple slump to the
ground.  Don t be a fool, old man. All we want is the
redskin.
Emmett lowered the barrel to chest level.  Git, you
bastards!
The third orderly bent to grab Simple, but Emmett fired
another round, catching the orderly in the shoulder. He
jerked back and hit the dirt with a thud. The other two
grabbed him by the arms and dragged him away. A moment
later one shouted,  We ll be back at sunup with the sheriff.
Emmett blasted another round, and the three took off at
a dead run. Emmett hobbled off the porch and stood over
Simple.  This is no time to lay around, son. We ve got work
to do.
Simple flung the syringe aside and struggled to his
knees. He felt his face for busted bones. He found nothing
broken, but the pain was bad and getting worse.
 We need to do the transfer now, Emmett rasped,
 before those bastards come back.
 Yeah, right. I m whipped, and you re stoned on that
Thai-whatever.
 It s now or never, son. Let s see what you re made of.
Simple Treasures | Alan Chin
121
 You re still too weak. The only way you can make the
leap is if someone leaps with you. But there s no coming
back this time because you re not strong enough to overcome
the bird.
Simple lifted himself to his feet and staggered to the fire
pit. The journals were ash. He dragged himself to the
woodpile and loaded his arms with logs, then dropped them
on the fire.
 I can t let you do this, Emmett said.
 There s one other who can help you make the leap, but
it could be deadly.
 I ll die anyway.
 Not for you, for me.
Simple marched to the woodpile and loaded up on more
logs. He threw an armful on the growing flames, building up
a tower of logs that would burn most of the night. He
stumbled into the kitchen, where Emmett and the bird were
face to face, like two gladiators staring at each other from
across the ring.
Simple whispered,  It s time.
 I have only one regret. Emmett glanced down at the
gold band on his finger.  I wish I could somehow take this
ring with me. I hate the thought of losing that connection
with her.
 You ve got a new life ahead of you, difficult and
dangerous. Why bring baggage you don t need?
 You re right. Still?
Emmett hobbled out to the porch and sat in a rocking
chair. Simple carried the perch and two chairs onto the
porch and set it up with the bird facing Emmett. The falcon
and Emmett glared at each other, preparing for battle.
Simple Treasures | Alan Chin
122
Simple stepped off the porch, staggered to the fire, and
pulled off his shirt. Dark clouds smothered the sky to the
north. The air smelled like hot metal. The fire boiled with
demonic energy, and he felt the heat of it like a blowtorch on
his bare skin.
The fire illuminated Emmett s leathery face, showing the
intricate cobweb-like lines carved into his flesh and making
the old man s eyes gleam red. Emmett began to slap the
porch beside him with his cane, thumping the hard wood
again and again. He copied the same rhythm that Simple
had taught him. Once the proper beat was established, he
glanced over at Simple and nodded.
Simple danced, whirling around in a tight circle, slowly
at first, then building in tempo. After twenty minutes, Simple
signaled Emmett to stop. He tilted his head toward the
mountains, straining to listen with every fiber of his being.
The wind gusted through the trees with a bestial drone and
raised a dust plume over the fire. Simple squinted against
the fine grit, smoke, and cinders. He signaled for Emmett to
continue, and the old man took up the thumping again. The
vibration of the cane made a weird moaning noise when it
struck the floorboards.
After an hour, Simple heard an eerie screech behind
him. A shiver rattled his entire frame. It took all his will
power not to stop and look. He kept focused on his dance.
 This is it, Simple said to Emmett.  Power spirits have come.
Keep thumping and be ready.
While he continued to spin, Simple lifted his arms over
his head and chanted, in his tribal dialect. His words came
slow and relaxed, as if he were singing a love song. As he
sang, his fingers wove through the air, as if forming the
words out of wind and smoke.
Simple Treasures | Alan Chin
123
Chapter Fourteen
JUDE sprawled on the bed in his dingy trailer house, clad
only in briefs. The bedside lamp shed yellows rays over him.
Sweat glistened on his torso. His head jerked one way, then
another. His ragged breathing sounded loud in the silent
gloom.
His hand reached out and hovered over the razor blade
on the nightstand. His fingers touched the cold metal,
lingered, then he snagged the cell phone instead. He
punched the speed-dial button and pressed the phone to his
ear.
 Pick up, damn you, answer.
He redialed manually.
 You promised. Where the fuck are you?
A minute later, he bounced the phone off the wall.
 Fuck!
Covering his face with his hands, he turned his back to
the nightstand and curled into a tight fetal position. But a
heartbeat later, his head inched around until he stared at
the razor blade. He reached for it, brought it to his lips and
kissed it. With tears flowing, he brought the blade to the
base of his throat.
THE fire had dwindled to red coals. Simple continued to
dance, kicking up a cloud of dust, but there were also two
ghostly figures dressed in full ceremonial gear, one Simple s
Simple Treasures | Alan Chin
124
image and one the image of Simple s grandfather. The two
figures fought each other as Simple s body continued to
dance.
Time bled by. The fire flared up into a whirling flame
again as Simple s spirit overcame his grandfather. The old
Indian made a gesture of submission. In the dim light, as
Simple s spirit returned to his body, his grandfather s spirit
transformed into an immense shadow that floated over the
porch and hovered behind Emmett. Simple heard a scraping
noise on the porch, the sound of something solid and heavy
dragging over wood. Emmett began to beat the porch in a
furious tempo. Simple signaled him to slow down, but he
dropped the cane, and it clattered on the floorboards.
Emmett jerked his head around to see what was behind
him, but as he did, the immense blackness lunged, engulfing
him. Emmett jolted upright, then shrieked while falling
backward.
Simple scrambled to help him back onto the chair, then
handed him the cane. All the blood had drained from
Emmett s face. Simple signaled him to continue the
thumping, but Emmett could only stare in astonishment at
the shadow that consumed him.
Simple watched a specter vault from Emmett to the
bird, but Emmett remained conscious, staring with
unblinking eyes at the blackness that didn t have any visible
boundaries. Slowly, a silhouette crouching on the perch
emerged from the mass that was superimposed on the night
sky. It began to take form as Emmett, Simple s grandfather,
and the bird battled for supremacy of the feathered body.
The shape was awesomely silent. The density of the shadow s
blackness made the night sky seem pale.
Simple Treasures | Alan Chin
125
Simple began to dance again. His feet stomped the
ground with the same rhythm that Emmett had pounded out
with his cane. He chanted, and his voice grew in volume.
Emmett slumped over, but Simple ignored him now, intent
on his power dance.
The wind died. Everything went silent even the crickets
hushed as if the universe were holding its breath. A minute
later, the bird shrieked. In the distance, the sound of the
wind drifting through the trees grew into a steady pulse, like
the slow beating of a heart.
Simple continued to dance as the moon crossed the sky.
He spun and spun until exhaustion crushed him to the dirt
beside the fire s dying coals. The last thing he heard before [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]