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.It makes a sound, it’s terrible, I know.But you hear it sometimes when you ride these things a long time.”“I know what the mud drums are you fool-headed man,” she told me—in a panic, forgetting her place, I’m sure.“I’ve heard them before and I know what they mean.But this ain’t that, and you know it sure as I do.”We were shouting to each other.We had to.The hoarse, unending blast was filling us and swallowing us whole.It was drilling into my skull, past my ears and under my scalp, into the meat of my brain.There was thunder, too—though you could hardly hear it.Sister Eileen released her death grip upon the chair and fled the room with a determined sort of stride that I would not have cared to interrupt.I called after her anyway, because it seemed that someone must.“Sister—stay here.Stay with us.”She paused in the doorway, one hand grasping the frame as if to hold herself in place while she spoke.“You stay here—both of you.Get into the galley and stay close together.Get the cook, too.Wake him up.I’ve seen him, he’s a big man, like you—Christopher.Grab the biggest knives you find and stay low.”“Sister!” Laura reached out like she might grab her, but the small nun was faster than she looked.Her skirts swished fast behind her and she was gone.Laura and I stared back and forth between ourselves, hands on ears, wishing for the terrible roar to subside and shaking as it failed to do so.“Maybe you should—” I started to say, but she knew the rest already.“I’ll get the cook,” she nodded, and she was off.A moment later she dashed back past me, into the galley.She emerged holding a great carving knife; she held it point down, by the handle, and her wrists were as tight as leather.I wanted to tell her that I thought this was unnecessary, that it was too much.I wanted to tell her she was going to frighten someone, but I was already more frightened of the warbling howl than I was of this strong-boned black girl.Still, as she dashed past me I thought that she did not look like a creature to be trifled with.I wished her all the luck in the world.She was gone.And abruptly—with a gurgle and a gasp—the sound stopped altogether.IX.You wait as long as you can.You hold onto it, you bite it back and you sit on it, you stuff it back down.You press it back as far as it will go, and you ignore it.You pretend it isn’t there.You tell yourself it only has to hide for a little while more—a little while more.Just look up and see the sky, and you know it’s coming.You know you don’t have to shut it down for long.You only have to last a little while more.But God sets Himself against me.You should have seen the sky that night, the way it was covered and hidden and the way it was gray-not-black or speckled with stars.Grey gloves of clouds entwined themselves above me.Veins of lightning split them, parted them briefly, and vanished—leaving the ceiling of heaven bleak again.Leaving me bereft.Leaving me hungry.If I could have only looked and known.Even if what I saw told me nothing good—if I could have only looked and known.It’s madness, I know.My father knew it too.Everyone who meets me comes to know it.Everyone who sees me wonders, and every one of them is right to wonder.It is a dread of difference they smell.It is an old fear I inspire.It is the fear of being chased, and caught, and eaten.I knew the moon was full and fat, and I knew there was little to be done.I knew I could not fight her, but if I could see her I could appeal to her—I could ask her for one small reprieve, for one small night while a storm kept us trapped in the water.The moon might have heard me.She might have granted it.After all, I was making the voyage for her.I was content to be her creation, and to have her as my mistress.I was ready to be whatever she wanted of me—if she wanted me an animal, not man, I was prepared to let her have that.It was why I left England, and why I left New England, and why I wandered west and south in the new colonies.I understood that out west there were few people—and most of those were savages.If I could not hide myself from man, at least I would hide from civilization.But some of these savages were a knowing, noble people, or so I had been told.In lieu of avoiding them, I hoped to consult with them.I might find a shaman, or a witch doctor who practiced a magic like the one that consumed me, and drove me.I did not believe I could be fixed, but I thought I might gain some control, or insight.I thought there might be some leash for the hunger and the madness.I would not find it among the white men, this much was clear.West then.But the small red-haired woman would not let me go.She would not let me leave.She followed—oh, how she followed! Tracking me, Mary’s dog.Mary’s lap-hound.Trailing behind me, through France and Germany as I went back to the Black Forest there, where the wolves are fearsome as nowhere else.Back to India, where I was lost and useless, she tagged along a day’s travel late.Through the north shores of Africa, and down to the jungles there, she walked in my wake.I would lose her sometimes for weeks and think that I had lost her for good, only to have her find me again on the far side of an ocean—as if she’d never lost my scent at all.For a long time she only watched.She wanted to learn, I imagine.She watched to see what I touched, and what I shunned.She observed me closely, as closely as she could come.I know what she was doing—she was stalking me.I know it when I see it.I know how the patterns work, and how the dance is stepped.She was a clever little thing, but she was not dangerous to me.I was stronger.I was faster, and I was clever too.I would not give her any upper hand, because I did not need to.From time to time I would think, “Perhaps I should speak with her.” It wouldn’t be hard.I could stop, and turn around, and there she would be—if I waited for her.I could sit her down and we could share a pot of tea.I would explain, “I know why you feel the way you do—I understand why you stalk and follow and chase.But I want you to understand, I am leaving now.I don’t want to harm anyone, and I don’t wish to be harmed.But I am what I am, and I’ll do what I must.See? I’m looking to minimize this awful trial.I want to flee [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]