Another First

Zach meets his maker.

I woke up in a room full of light, felt like a doctorin place. I lay low waitin for someone to show. After a long bit I hollered out, "Where am I?"

I started dreamin about bein a kid.

I wasn't always Zebediah Thomas. Zeb is my brother's name, my name is Zach Packer. Zeb died before he had a chance to live. When I was old enuff to understand, I asked my pappy to call me Zeb so my brother could live through me. This troubled him and we had many days of angry words. On my tenth birthday I left home and never came back. That was the last birthday I ever had.

The lights were givin me the fidgets. I hollered out again, "Where am I?" A voice called out, "Did you honor your mother and father?"

"Don't see where that's your lookout, but yep."

"Why do you say this after running away from them and never coming back?"

"My pappy once said that I should honor his word as long as I lived under his roof. When I felt like I couldn't honor his word, I left. Now, where am I?"

"You are before the judgment seat of Christ."

"Figgered as much, then I have a few questions of that God feller." An oldtimer stepped in out of the light, "Ask." "Did you honor your children?" He grew tight-lipped then made quick motion with his hand. The old feller musta given me a sleepin shot cuz the next thing I knew, I was dreamin again.

The first few years on my own was tough. Did most of my eatin at the trash heaps or Id get lucky and steal somethin decent. Bout the time my voice was changin I met an old fox that learned me flim-flammin. In them early days I managed to carry an air of innocence about me. I heard tell a sheriff had been on my tail for over a year, but he gave it up when he could get no one to complain. As one lady put it, "That sweet face could never do wrong." I was livin in hog heaven.

The old feller was standin over me. "Thou shalt not steal," he boomed out. "That's fair oldtimer, but I don't see what that's got to do with me. Can't hardly call it stealin when its somethin you need moren the ones who have it."

"What of the money you tricked from people? You didn't need all you took."

"A wise man once said, 'A fool and his money are soon parted.' Seein that's the case, why shouldn't I help with the partin? You never did answer my question, Pard."

He motioned again and I started another dream.

I just started getting whiskers the first time I went to war. Turned out I had a natural talent for it and the meals were mostly regular.

We were pinned down under heavy fire and the ole boy next to me was startin to go loco. He kept hollerin over and over, "Make it stop, god make it stop." I hollered over, "You hit?" He screamed. "Make it stop!" I bellied over to him, "You don't look hit, what's the problem, feller?" "I'm afraid."

"Hell, Pard, all of us are skeered, so quit yer yammerin."

"If you wont stop it, I will." He jumped up from his hidey-hole and started runnin for the officers tents. I didn't like the looks of this so I follered. He ripped open the flap of the first tent and filled the sleepers full of lead before I could catch up. He was headin for the commander's tent when I decided to step in. I put the crazy ole coot out of his misery.

"Thou shalt not kill."

"What's your kill ratio old man?" Again the motion that set me to dreamin.

I ain't proud of this part of my life. The war ended with me in the hospital with a shot to the leg. The doc wanted to cut it off but I wasn't havin any of that. "Just give me somethin fer the pain and I'll worry about the leg." Big mistake. When the pain finally left, I still craved the drugs. I was sleepin one off in an opium den when it got raided. That night, I got my first look at prison.

Before the oldtimer could speak up I jumped in, "Ya got me, Pard. I was a damn-fool getting started on them drugs. I figger I done my time, though." "You killed a man for drug money."

"That I did, guess a stretch in prison don't make up fer it."

He motioned and the lights went out. The darkness was complete.

I come bustin out of the water with my arms flailin. He was on me before I could shake the water out of my eyes. I let my legs kick out from under me and managed to hit his kneecap. He lost his footin and I was on him. I wrestled his blade from him and pinned it to his throat. I growled out, "Shoulda went fer dead, Pard." I was about to sink the blade, but I paused. I remembered the dreams then I knocked him out.

Excerpt from The Godz of Earth by S.E.Estes