Good Fortune (9781416998631) (36 page)

R
EVOLT
. R
EVOLT
. W
E SHALL REVOLT.

The words passed through the sea of black bodies like a fierce wave from the ocean outside. I pushed the two bodies on my left and right aside, and stood up to see who had spoken. The darkness that hung was thicker than heavy smoke, but I could see quite clearly.

Revolt. Revolt. We shall revolt.

No one had spoken those words aloud. Instead, I could see the words creeping through the bodies; I could sense the collective feeling breathing as if it were alive.
The ship tipped heavily one way, and the bodies shifted with it—that ugly sound of human chattel sliding across the wooden boards of the bottom of this slave ship melting into one long, deep breath. The ship dipped back the other way, and the breath taken was released in a loud boisterous hum that seeped heavily through skin past eardrums to soul, the pain that lay beneath it sharp enough to kill.

I want out! Let me get away!
I screamed.

The hatch above us opened. A barked order reached our ears.
Up deck! Now!

They came slowly, bare bodies blackened by birth: bumping, thumping, limping, sulking, dragging themselves
up. Old bones gave out, legs collapsed, but the monster-men prodded, as if nudging animals from their cages.

But there was a light up there. What did it mean? After all that time in the darkness, did freedom await us? Was there an ending to this horrid reality called hell?

Then the sunlight hit our eyes. The pain stabbed at our bodies and minds, swirling steadily between our brows but bringing with it a lightness that touched our souls. Whiteness! It was the light of hope and faith, a sign that we were being freed! Our bodies would be rid of these chains. Our minds would be rid of this prison. Our hearts would be rid of this horrendous burden!

But once we emerged onto the deck, our dreams and fantasies plummeted back to reality. The whips and rods awoke from their resting places. The whiteness we had believed was pure now oozed from the skin of those demons. It wasn't whiteness, it was redness, it was hate, it was un-God-like terror, it was the monster-men, who had fooled us out of a freedom.

On deck, a drum sat waiting for us.

Dance!
A shouted order that the whips helped us understand.

Dance!

Soft shuffling, low humming that drifted from souls rather than throats; prayers to sprout wings and fly—these were our dance. The dance became louder, quicker, the beating suddenly taken over by someone who knew how to speak through the drum. I looked for something familiar to hold on to in his gaze, but I saw only emptiness and … rage.
His eyes were screaming,
Let me die, then let me fly, fly back home, just let me try!

And his drum spoke:
Do you, do you, do you feel it?

We danced faster, our feet beating stronger, drowning out the pleas and whimpers and screams of the young women who had been dragged to far corners of the ship while we danced. They were ripping through the womb of our land, and it was too much for the moving bodies to bear.

Do you, do you, do you feel it?

We danced more rapidly, our limbs moving more freely. We refused to be animals herded and prepared for slaughter.

Do you, do you, do you feel it?

Then the fire stick was raised to the skies to stop us, but we wouldn't stop!

It clicked again, but we couldn't stop!

This time, the fire stick spit flames into the air. Clubs came out, knives were drawn, fire sticks from both sides shouted insults at one another.

Revolt! Revolt! We must revolt!

Screeching voices, tumbling bodies, wide stares, and bloodcurdling screams filled my ears and eyes. And we wouldn't stop it!

Frantic monster men, leaping bodies, explosions, and high-pitched screams floated through the air. And we couldn't stop it!

And there beside me, a young girl standing over me, skin shining rich in the sun, slipped carelessly out of the air. She had a hole in her chest. Her eyes, her frown that
gripped the edges of her jawbones, her fingers that groped for the point of impact—they all seemed to lock themselves in place, suspended.

The bullet tore through my own skin, and I fell down into the hole below, down, down, down, watching as three pairs of bare black legs were sent dangling, hanging, swinging back and forth above me….

I hit the ground, a blanket of snow, and rolled aside quickly as a procession of angry townsfolk stormed forward in protest.

Pitchforks, flames, and guns clasped by bodies adorned with farmers' clothing were raised high to the heavens. They marched on to witness the reincarnation of a body left rotting in the fields, the stolen crop now the bars that bound the man's body in place. Townsfolk screamed, the murderer at the forefront, scarecrows in the dark trying to remove the bars and the body; but to no avail. Through death, he was speaking to them.

Do you, do you, do you feel it? I've had enough.

The marching continued, but the pitchforks, flames, and guns turned to documents, pieces of parchment. An awareness arose that the quick-witted tongue and well-read mind could help win this battle and bring success to this revolt.

But let me do it, I can do it!

I stared at a single white face in the crowd who had hollered those words. He stared back, his white face turning chestnut, turning deep brown, turning a purplish black.

I am ready! Let me do it.

There was a crack, a hush that was suspended over the crowd, and the man lay dead.

No, no! I want out! Let me get out!

This time it was Daniel kneeling above me, frantically calling my name.

My eyes came open.

“Daniel,” I said, rubbing the tears away.

“You all right? Is there somethin' I'm s'pose to do?” he asked me, his eyes tired but filled with concern.

“Naw, Daniel, figure I'm all right. Jus' …” I sat up, trying to remember how and where I used to bury that heavy feeling my dreams gave. My last nightmarish dream had been months before, when I was escaping from the plantation. I had allowed myself to forget what the dreams felt like.

“You bin havin' many of those, Anna?” he asked me.

I shook my head. “Haven't had any, actually. Maybe Mary was right. Maybe I will get rid of 'em for good after some time.”

Daniel got to his feet. “Hope so. Cain't stand seein' you like that.”

Daniel disappeared for the next few nights after the incident, which about worried me into my grave. He'd sometimes
leave us for a day or two, but never four and five nights at a time. I spent each evening he was gone racing down to Hadson and asking around for him. I'd always end up at Rodney's house, coming face-to-face with an older woman.

“You seen 'im today?” I'd ask her.

“Naw, haven't seen him.”

“You heard from him?”

“I haven't, Anna,” the woman would say with a light pat on my shoulder, “but I promise you he's all right. Don't worry so much. He'll be back.”

And then one night he did come back. As Florence and I sat in the kitchen plucking turkey feathers for the next day's meal, I heard some noises out on Mama Bessie's land. Running to the window, I peered out and saw him making conversation with another man and three women. Florence brushed her hands against her dress and looked out, too, watching with growing irritation at the five of them laughing and carrying on. She strode back to her stool, roughly seating herself again, and began yanking at the feathers with annoyance. Her tension felt unforgiving.

“What is it, Flo?” I asked her as I pulled open the door. She shook her head and kept her eyes on her work.

“Sebastian!” I yelled as the others drifted away. I ran and caught him in a hug but pushed him away again.

“Why would you leave us like that without sayin' nothin'?”

“Work,” he simply said, smiling.

“Sebastian, you actin' quite strange. Now, I ain't gonna ask 'bout yo' work or nuthin'—ain't my business to know.
But you cain't do things like this!” I explained to him, sternly. He laughed away my comment and made for the door.

“You think this is funny, Sebastian? We ain't seen you for the past few days! You act like you don't care!”

He turned back and apologized. “I know I bin gone fo' a few days, Anna, an' I'm sorry I didn't say nothin'. Didn't know it would be that long. But don't go sayin' things like that, that I don't care. This is me, the same me you've known foreva.” Then he shook away his frown.

“An' anyway, I got some news fo' you. Where's Flo?” He walked through the doorway and stood tapping fingers against one another, smiling at Florence.

“Hey, miss.” His giddiness broke the shadow that had come along and sat with us as we waited for his return. But Florence said nothing.

“Flo,” he said after a few seconds, stepping towards her.

“Don't wanna hear no ‘Flo' from you, Sebastian.”

“Flo, I bin gone fo' a few days, that's it. What's wrong?”

“I don't fool with folk less they serious. Got my mind on other things, other dreams, an' don't have no time for your foolishness.”

He laughed, but uneasiness darkened his expression.

“What you talkin' of, Flo? Came all the way down here to see you an' my sista here….”

“It's your ways I'm talking of. Gonna disappear for all them days an' come back like this!”

“Like what?” he asked, seeming genuinely puzzled by Florence's mood.

“Like you was out there, Sebastian!” she said, pointing out the window and looking squarely into his face. He fought not to drop his gaze.

“When I be with somebody, that's who I'm gonna be with. Ain't no games an' fooling with me. An' jus' as sure as you wanna be laughin' an' huggin' an' prancin' around with those other girls, there is no Flo in that, you hear?” she said, almost spitting the words out.

“Flo, it's just funnin' …”

“And I say, no sir!” She slammed the turkey down on the table, and feathers flew every which way. She left the room as quickly as her mood allowed.

Daniel followed her with his eyes, saying nothing. For a moment, he looked like he'd been struck, but it wasn't long at all before his face melted back into a light, amused calmness. He turned back to me, his eyes asking for an explanation.

“If that's what she say, that's what she means!” I said to him. He shrugged his shoulders to show it meant nothing to him, but he couldn't help stealing another glance out of the room.

“Sebastian, you gotta understand, you can't jus' leave like that,” I tried explaining once more.

“Sorry, Anna. It's jus', wit Rodney gone …” He stopped, looking away for a moment, clearly fighting away the anger he felt.

He turned back to me, his lips curled upward, and asked, “That why she so mad?”

I chuckled. “Don't think so. Looks like you got more eyes fo' women than she likes.”

“I don't see it that way!” he exclaimed.

“Then maybe that's what's wrong.” He sat in silence for a moment as I continued my work. I had questions for him, things part of me wanted to know. Like, what was he involved in and where had he been? But I kept silent, knowing my brother would share what he thought was necessary and leave the rest in secret, where it belonged.

“Well, anyways, Anna, they knows 'bout you.”

“What you mean? Who?”

“Well, I done took what you tole me 'bout you wantin' to write on injustice an' the laws an' all that an' tole 'em we got somebody here who gonna use education, someday, to make a difference.”

My blood rushed to my face. “Don't like you doin' that, Sebastian,” I said quietly. I didn't know where the fear came from, but it was there.

“Why not? You said this was yo' dream! You said—”

“I know what I said, Sebastian! But I don't have a cent's worth of decent writin' in my bones! I ain't writin' those things fo' the community, not yet. They just thoughts I wanted to share with you.”