The Holy Spirit
The opening chapter to Keepers of Time:
Anything to stop the voices.
Carl crossed the street carrying a gascan with a black hose. He didn’t know the day or the year, only that it was winter and the voices had last come to him several seasons ago, in that short summer before the towers fell and the seasons changed.
A man in a windbreaker came jogging towards him and Carl made no effort to hide the gascan. The man only gave him a glance but a glance was enough: it was the Look. Carl knew the Look well.
“The judgments of the Lord fall upon you,” Carl said, but the jogger didn’t hear him. Earbud cords ran from under a pair of Steelers earmuffs and Carl wondered if he were Navy. There were too many Navy in Norfolk. Carl had gone to the base before, in the seasons before the Holy Spirit saved him.
Carl crossed the street. A Dollar Tree and a K-Mart served this part of town. They shared a big parking lot out front, but there was a small, shaded lot behind the Dollar Tree with only four cars.
Carl wasn’t stupid. He never hit the same lot twice in a row. But enough time had passed to where this lot was safe again. He never stuck around to see them return and find their gas tanks empty, but if he had, if they’d pointed their accusing fingers at him like those men in uniform had done all those seasons ago, Carl would have explained that he only did what he had to. After all, the Holy Spirit didn’t run on faith alone.
He picked the car farthest from the road, where he could hunker down out of sight. He unscrewed the gascap and fed the hose inside.
When the can was full, Carl screwed the cap back on and shut the lid. He had last bought gas in the seasons when he had a steady job and friends. They’d claimed to be his friends, but in the seasons since, wearing this denim jacket and jeans that turned paler with each passing season, Carl had learned a hard truth: he had no friends. He had acquaintances, and people didn’t want to acquaint themselves with someone who’d fallen on hard times.
“Put your faith in the Holy Spirit,” he said. He said it loudly. No shame in his devotion. The Holy Spirit had plucked him off the streets and placed him here, at Norview Baptist Church.
“And He will reward you.”
Carl stopped at the bus. An old school bus, someone had spraypainted The Holy Spirit on the side, in black. Carl remembered that first day well. He’d collapsed on this bus shivering and woke up in a charity hospital. Mr. and Mrs. Evans, the church owners, had found him, and they did what no one else had done in the seasons since his life changed.
They listened.
“The Lord’s our rock, in him we hide,” Carl said and he began whispering A Shelter in the Time of Storm, the first hymn Mr. and Mrs. Evans had taught him.
He opened the gascap and filled up The Holy Spirit.
Bright morning like this, mood like this, the voices couldn’t touch him. Carl almost strutted down the street. The Holy Spirit drank a lot of gas — four cans worth. Can 1 done, Carl looked for another generous spirit for can 2.
A green Volvo was parked far from the road, in the shade of a eucalyptus tree. Carl did a right face. Some habits died hard, and it was fun to relive old seasons from time to time. It never hurt to remember where you came from.
“I hope you’re not doing what I think you’re doing.”
The man who spoke to him was holding a sign with Hell written at the top, Awaits at the bottom and a picture of a dead fetus between them.
“Not that they don’t deserve it,” the man said. “They do, they surely do, but the fire department can’t put out the flames awaiting them.”
Carl found his words, which he’d planned just for situations like this.
“The Holy Spirit walks with me.”
Carl left the weird man and his nasty sign. He walked past the building, a harmless looking place, and when Carl reached the Volvo, he looked back. The weird man was out of sight
Carl squatted and checked the lid. Automatic. He pulled a small ice scraper from his jacket and worked it in the crack. Then he pounded the handle until the lid popped open.
The Volvo had a locking gascap. Carl looked up, “You want to challenge me today?”, and put the ice scraper away and dug in his jacket. Thick sewing needles worked best, a lesson he’d learned several seasons ago. He forced the needle in and poked gently until he found the trigger. Then he applied pressure.
The cap clicked open.
Carl unscrewed the cap and set it down. He fed the hose in and filled up the can, snapped the cap in place and headed back to the Holy Spirit. He didn’t return the same way. For one thing, he didn’t want to see that weird man and his nasty sign. For another, it wasn’t smart. The man might ask questions and sadly “The Holy Spirit walks with me” did not always work.
Halfway to the bus, Carl heard shouts. He turned around, catching a couple words — “whore”, “slut” — and a girl was making a beeline toward the green Volvo. She was crying.
“Go on and wipe those tears honey. Nasty man won’t bother you no more.”
She turned her keys but the car struggled to start. She tried a couple more times before Carl saw a sight that made him drop the gascan.
She laid her head on the steering wheel and cried.
At Carl’s approach, she looked up. Carl held up both hands and said the first thing that came to mind.
“The Holy Spirit walks with me.”
She tried to start the car again.
“Sorry. But you see, the Holy Spirit don’t run on faith alone.”
She opened the car door. “You stole my gas?”
“Well, you see, the Holy — “
“Why’d you take all my gas? I don’t get paid for another week.”
She said these words without anger, as if this were just another part of her day. Carl, who hadn’t lowered his hands, said, “The Holy Spirit don’t run on faith alone.”
“You already said that.” She got out of the car. She was a big girl, no question there, big-boned with plenty of fat filling her clothes. Curly brown hair fell over her shoulders. She wore black glasses, the frames shaped like bent rectangles.
She adjusted her glasses. “They give these to us in Basic.”
“Basic?”
“Boot camp, I guess. But we don’t call it that anymore.”
“Military. I’d best watch myself.”
She didn’t acknowledge this. Instead, she said, “Why’d you steal my gas?”
“I didn’t mean to.”
“Well you did. I can’t even get home now.”
“How far do you live?”
She looked away, chewing her lip.
“Something wrong?”
“Forget it.”
“I’m sure he didn’t mean those awful things.”
She smiled a little. “Are you from around here?”
“Born and raised.”
“I’m not. I’m from Minnesota originally.”
Minnesota? Carl was sure he hadn’t heard that right. He hadn’t seen a map in many seasons, but he thought Minnesota was up north, close to Canada. What could bring a Minnesota girl all the way down here?
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Shoot.”
But it was hard to ask. He hadn’t had a conversation in a long time. Other than streetside conversions, who bothered to talk to him? This didn’t feel like a conversion. This young lady, whether she’d accepted his Lord or another, had little regard for the Holy Spirit. Yet . . . that’s exactly who brought them together. He had His reasons, mysterious as always.
“Why did you come all the way down here from Minnesota?”
“Navy.”
“Navy?”
“Yeah. Why else would anyone to come to this town?”
Carl put his hands in his pockets. He kicked a pebble. It went rolling to her feet. She kicked it back.
“What’s your name?”
“Carl.”
She put out her hand. “Alisha.”
It had been many seasons since he’d shaken someone’s hand. He held her hand in a weak grip before remembering that you were supposed to be firm. A handshake introduced you to other people. Your words just filled the time.
Carl squeezed. She yanked her hand free.
“Ow.”
“What?”
“Were you trying to crush my hand?”
“I thought you’re supposed to be firm.”
“Firm, not crushing.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s alright.” She rubbed her hand. “You never answered my question. Why’d you steal my gas?”
“The Holy Spirit — “
“ — doesn’t run on faith alone. I get it.” She looked past him. “So can I see it? If you’re stealing my gas, it had better for something nice.”
#
“Can I take a quick picture?”
Carl nodded for her to go ahead. Alisha pulled out a long phone in a neon pink case. She took several pictures.
“The base is all the same,” she said. “You get tired of being there. You want to get out and taste the local flavor.”
“Is that why you came here?”
She ignored the question. “So how long’ve you been doing this?”
“Several seasons.” Carl looked from Alisha to the Holy Spirit, finding and readying his words. “Sorry about causing you trouble.”
“It’s alright.”
“But you see, The Holy Spirit don’t run on faith alone.”
She chuckled. “I can smell it. So what do you do in this thing? Drive kids around?”
“I preach the Message.”
“Do you get a lot of converts?”
“There aren’t too many open minds here.” Carl had a lot of feelings, he just didn’t know how to express them. No one asked him questions like this. No one showed interest. To have this strange young lady whose gas he’d stolen stick around, asking questions, showing interest . . . the Holy Spirit had a plan, but what? Carl did this to stop the voices. He felt they were edging perilously close to that topic and what would she think then?
“I can get you some more gas.”
“By stealing?”
Carl blushed. “No, it’s — “
“I’m kidding. It’s fine.”
“I don’t steal.”
“It’s fine.”
“Stealing is a sin.”
“I said it’s fine. I think it’s kind of interesting, tell the truth. Man, bus, needs gas. Like you said, it doesn’t run on faith alone.” She smiled at him. The smile of good humor, of friendship. “You know what? I’m going to buy you a gift.”
“You don’t have to.”
“This has been one fuck of a weird day, okay? And I have this feeling, you know, the days are only going to get weirder. We live in weird times. You ever feel that time is speeding up? I feel like that every day. I wish I could control it, but I can’t. All I can do is let the current carry me.
“You’re the same way. The current keeps carrying us forward, and I want to buy you a gift. Now come on. There’s a Dollar Tree across the street.
Carl was too confused to fight it. The Holy Spirit had sent this young lady into his life. He thought she’d be mad about the gas, but instead she was buying him a gift. A gift. What kind? Why? Because they’d run into each other. Strange girl, Carl didn’t know what else to do but go along.
They were outside the store before he realized it.
The voices.
“What are you doing? You look fine.”
“I can’t come in. Sorry.”
“What? Come on.”
“Do they have speakers?”
The question caught her off-guard. A man with long hair brushed past her.
“All I want to do is buy you a gift. Is that so bad?”
“I don’t think it’s bad.”
“So come on.”
“What about the speakers?”
“What about them? No. I mean, they have a PA system, I guess, but we’ll be in and out anyways. I already know what I’m getting you.”
Carl took a few reluctant steps. How many seasons had passed? He didn’t know. The less he thought about the voices, the better.
The less he heard them too.
Still, the girl was waiting, and she wanted to buy him something. This was the most interesting thing to happen to him in a while and he understood that it would be that way for a long time, maybe the rest of his life. People didn’t talk to guys like him. It was a law of nature. You avoided the Carls of the world. You did not talk to them and you sure as heck did not take them into Dollar Tree and buy them gifts.
“Alright. Can you promise me something?”
“What’s that?”
“Can we be quick?”
“I already said we will. Now come on.”
Carl entered the store.
What struck him at first were the clothes. The people in here weren’t dressed much better than he was. One woman wore a tanktop a couple sizes too small, breasts larger than her head spilling out, rolls of fat squeezing through the underarm openings.
“Hey,” came Alisha’s voice. “Didn’t your mother teach you it’s impolite to stare?”
“Sorry.”
Alisha chuckled. “It’s alright. I’m just picking.” She lowered her voice. “People like that are a dime a dozen around here.”
She dove deeper into the store while Carl stayed by the door. He spotted them: two big speakers at the front, marked as clearance.
“I need to go,” Carl said, loudly, and he felt the first sign.
A wave crashed into him.
Alisha was going through second-hand Norfolk trinkets, when Carl called for help.
Alisha jogged to the front, her enormous frame knocking over two snowglobes. Carl was leaning on the counter.
He was having a seizure.
“Call an ambulance!” Alisha lifted him by the shoulders. “It’s — “
A pop from the speakers. A man spoke beneath static.
“Denmark. Foxtrot. Four Hundred.” A bugle played. “Denmark. Foxtrot. Four Hundred.” A bugle —
Carl forced his eyes open.
“Go.” He swallowed with difficulty and repeated himself, throwing more power into the word than Alisha would have thought possible. “Go!”
Alisha helped Carl out of the store. The speaker voices trailed them. The doors opened.
“ — Foxtrot, Four — “
The doors closed. Carl was shaking.
“Hang on. I’ll call 911.”
“No.” Carl took a deep breath. “Holy Spirit.”
On the bus Alisha laid Carl on a seat and checked his pulse.
“Do you feel okay?”
“It’s been several seasons, that’s all.”
Alisha searched the bus, until she found the cooler stashed in the back. She brought Carl a bottle of water and tipped it gently towards his mouth. She let him take a few swallows.
“Okay?”
He made the okay sign with his hand, and for some reason, she laughed.
“Sorry,” she said, wiping her mouth. “This has been one hell of a strange day.”
“It ain’t strange,” Carl said. “It’s the doing of The Holy Spirit.”
Carl saw a look on her face which he had seen on many faces. He smiled. “You don’t believe in The Holy Spirit, do you?”
“I don’t know what I believe in, honestly. I joined up to get some money for college, and now . . . “ She wrinkled her nose. “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”
Carl propped himself up on his elbows. “Can I tell you a secret? It never is.”
“I joined to see the world and operate,” she changed her voice, deepening it with a touch of retard, “critical, crucial, million dollar equipment.”
Carl whistled. “Makes me wanna sign up.”
“I know, right? And here’s the thing, this’s what I do now: I sit in an office and do paperwork.”
“You’re a secretary.”
“I prefer Cool Admin Bitch.”
She drank some of the water herself. She held the bottle out to him but he refused.
“I didn’t buy you your gift.”
“That’s alright.”
“Jesus.” She drank the bottle empty. “Yeah.”
“Something about an elephant, right?”
“What?”
“An elephant sitting on the couch. That’s what they say, right? A big elephant’s sitting right there, but don’t nobody want to talk about it.”
“Alright big guy. What happened in there?”
“First time it happened was a long time ago. It was late spring, about summer.”
“How old were you?”
He shrugged. “Don’t know.”
“How old are you, right now?”
He shrugged again.
She hummed. “Alright. So all the speakers came alive and — “
“No not like that, not the first time. It was all in my head the first time.”
“What’d you do?”
“I went somewhere dark, curled up and prayed till it passed. I didn’t know what was going on.”
“Then it changed, to where it happens when you’re around speakers?”
“It was the praying made it go away.”
Alisha turned the bottle upside down and said, “But the first time there weren’t any speakers?”
“I prayed.”
She put the bottle behind the steering wheel. “They only come when you’re around speakers?”
“Because I prayed. But . . . “ He shut up.
“What? Go on.”
“Well . . . I don’t mean to disrespect The Holy Spirit, but after I prayed there was this one time they still came without speakers. It was a summer, and they came about once a week. They were real loud, real strong, I mean, they hurt me they were so strong.”
“Did you pray again?”
“I did but that didn’t help none. They kept getting worse. I thought for sure I’d have to tell Mr. and Mrs. Evans about it, get some help, but then they stopped, after all the smoke and the running.”
“What happened?”
“The towers fell, and the seasons changed.”
Neither of them spoke for a while. Alisha sat considering all this. Carl had seen the way people’s faces work — when no one talks to you, it gives you plenty of time to see how else they talk — and he saw it now. She didn’t want to believe him. If she could, she would have dismissed what happened in the Dollar Tree as a bad dream or a weird trick. When people put their minds to believing something, they believed it, no matter what.
“Alright,” she said. She sounded like she’d just finished a marathon. “I need to head back. I have to get up early tomorrow and do my Admin Bitch duties.”
“Okay,” Carl whispered.
“Are you going to be alright here?”
He nodded. “There’s folks in the church. They’ll have supper ready here soon.”
“Then I’d better go. They might try to convert me.”
Alisha smiled as she said that, but Carl didn’t feel like smiling back. Fake smiles and real smiles, most people couldn’t tell the difference. But when no one talks to you, it gives you plenty of time. To see what’s fake, what’s real.
She picked up the gascan and carried it with one hand. Carl sat by the window, watching her go. A large girl. She’d have no trouble if someone tried to mug her, but who’d be stupid enough to try that?
He didn’t watch her leave. The Holy Spirit had enough gas for his runs tomorrow. If Carl had to, he’d grab some more gas before going to bed tonight. He’d hardly hit all his spots. Standing up, he spoke in a voice that wasn’t at a normal tone but not a whisper either. The right voice, for talking to The Holy Spirit.
“Why’d You send her to me if she’s just gonna leave?” He was thinking of the last time the voices had come without speakers. He hadn’t thought about it in years. Weird what could dredge the worst memories up from the depths. “Why’d You let the towers fall?” He sighed. It wasn’t for him to understand, like so much in this world. He moved to the front and double-checked. The radio was still in place.
Every speaker had been removed.
With a grunt, Carl slumped from the bus, to see what the church had for supper.