Swamp Foetus Read Online Free Page B
Author: Poppy Z. Brite
surrounds them both, connecting them, no matter how far apart they are. I’ve never seen the twins’ aura, nor any other. But anybody could see the golden light surrounding this Ghost, as translucent and yet as heartbreakingly bright as sunlight sifting through pure dawn clouds on Easter morning.
Ghost had risen.
I couldn’t hear his padding feet in the hall, but I saw that golden light breaking across the darkness before he stepped into our room. He glanced at me and thought I was asleep, then bent over the twins’ bed. He was going to get bitten again, I thought. Worse—he was going to get clawed .
But the twins reached up to him as they had never reached for anybody but each other, and Ghost, who must have been stronger than he looked, hoisted a twin in each arm and turned to me. He knew I was awake after all. The twins leaned against him, their heads snuggled into his neck and their hands linked across his chest, murmuring sleepily. If anybody could save our twins, this angel could.
“God be with you,” I whispered.
Ghost smiled. His face, even in the dark, was radiant.
“Peace,” he said.
V. GHOST
He stashed the twins in the back of the T-bird, told them to wait there until morning, and watched them sink back into the easy rhythm of child-sleep, wrapped in the excellent blanket Steve had swiped from some Holiday Inn. The rest of Ghost’s night was dark and dreamless.
At breakfast the next morning, the doughy mother asked where the twins were and the brother looked at Ghost and said, “They went out to the woods already.” Ghost could almost see the kid’s fingers crossing under the table, protecting himself against the lie. The lumpish father grunted. That was the extent of the breakfast conversation, except when Ghost, referring to the plaster decorations in the front hall, said, “Do you know cupids are pagan?” Steve glared at him. Ghost, oblivious, dipped a biscuit in the savory blandness of chicken gravy.
Ghost kindly offered to load up the car while Steve paid for their room and meal. He made the twins hide on the floor of the back seat under the blanket, where they huddled happily. They didn’t show themselves until noon, when Steve pulled into a truck stop for lunch and a dark head rose over the seat and said, “We’re hungry too.”
“You are crazy,” Steve said through a mouthful of coffee, his fifth cup. Enchanted, Ghost watched the twins picking apart a piece of pie, eating only the chunks of apple. “You’ve gone too far this time, man. They’ve got our descriptions. Even with that stupid disguise”— Ghost had draped long-sleeved shirts around the twins’ shoulders—“those kids stand out like a nun in a whorehouse. They probably have my fuckin’ license number. We’ll be in the county tank before this day is out, Ghost, you bet on it.”
“I know. We’ll swing for this. Hell, we’ll probably get the chair.” Ghost smiled, an easy, sweet smile, a smile that made Steve want to give him a bloody lip. “Only I don’t think so, Steve. I don’t think we’re being followed. Seems like you might trust me by now.”
Steve opened his mouth. Ghost said, “Who told you Ann would come back to you?” and Steve shut it again, frowned, shook his head. Finally he said, “Just tell me what the hell you want to do with them.”
“We’re taking them to the city,” Ghost said. “And we’re going to set them free.”
In the city—any city, Ghost had said, and so Steve chose the biggest, most anonymous one he could find—Ghost took the twins out one night and came back alone to their motel. His face was chalky and his eyes were red-rimmed, and he got into Steve’s bed and began to sob. Steve held him all night while Ghost dreamed of the ultimate consummation, the rejoining, the flesh melting back to oneness, the holy whole, the denied birthright.
“God be with you,” he whispered over and over into the darkness. “God be with you.”
VI. BROTHER
Mama and Daddy
Ghost had risen.
I couldn’t hear his padding feet in the hall, but I saw that golden light breaking across the darkness before he stepped into our room. He glanced at me and thought I was asleep, then bent over the twins’ bed. He was going to get bitten again, I thought. Worse—he was going to get clawed .
But the twins reached up to him as they had never reached for anybody but each other, and Ghost, who must have been stronger than he looked, hoisted a twin in each arm and turned to me. He knew I was awake after all. The twins leaned against him, their heads snuggled into his neck and their hands linked across his chest, murmuring sleepily. If anybody could save our twins, this angel could.
“God be with you,” I whispered.
Ghost smiled. His face, even in the dark, was radiant.
“Peace,” he said.
V. GHOST
He stashed the twins in the back of the T-bird, told them to wait there until morning, and watched them sink back into the easy rhythm of child-sleep, wrapped in the excellent blanket Steve had swiped from some Holiday Inn. The rest of Ghost’s night was dark and dreamless.
At breakfast the next morning, the doughy mother asked where the twins were and the brother looked at Ghost and said, “They went out to the woods already.” Ghost could almost see the kid’s fingers crossing under the table, protecting himself against the lie. The lumpish father grunted. That was the extent of the breakfast conversation, except when Ghost, referring to the plaster decorations in the front hall, said, “Do you know cupids are pagan?” Steve glared at him. Ghost, oblivious, dipped a biscuit in the savory blandness of chicken gravy.
Ghost kindly offered to load up the car while Steve paid for their room and meal. He made the twins hide on the floor of the back seat under the blanket, where they huddled happily. They didn’t show themselves until noon, when Steve pulled into a truck stop for lunch and a dark head rose over the seat and said, “We’re hungry too.”
“You are crazy,” Steve said through a mouthful of coffee, his fifth cup. Enchanted, Ghost watched the twins picking apart a piece of pie, eating only the chunks of apple. “You’ve gone too far this time, man. They’ve got our descriptions. Even with that stupid disguise”— Ghost had draped long-sleeved shirts around the twins’ shoulders—“those kids stand out like a nun in a whorehouse. They probably have my fuckin’ license number. We’ll be in the county tank before this day is out, Ghost, you bet on it.”
“I know. We’ll swing for this. Hell, we’ll probably get the chair.” Ghost smiled, an easy, sweet smile, a smile that made Steve want to give him a bloody lip. “Only I don’t think so, Steve. I don’t think we’re being followed. Seems like you might trust me by now.”
Steve opened his mouth. Ghost said, “Who told you Ann would come back to you?” and Steve shut it again, frowned, shook his head. Finally he said, “Just tell me what the hell you want to do with them.”
“We’re taking them to the city,” Ghost said. “And we’re going to set them free.”
In the city—any city, Ghost had said, and so Steve chose the biggest, most anonymous one he could find—Ghost took the twins out one night and came back alone to their motel. His face was chalky and his eyes were red-rimmed, and he got into Steve’s bed and began to sob. Steve held him all night while Ghost dreamed of the ultimate consummation, the rejoining, the flesh melting back to oneness, the holy whole, the denied birthright.
“God be with you,” he whispered over and over into the darkness. “God be with you.”
VI. BROTHER
Mama and Daddy