Tuesday, April 19, 2005

Genesis

Some firsts in Zach's life

I suppose I should begin by lettin you know who I am. Zebediah Thomas is my name, but many call me Rev Z. Been a preachin man fer years now. Kinda funny how that came about.

When money ran low and gamein and scammin were out, Id listen for rumors of war. If you stay low and keep quiet, the odds ain't too bad against you, so sometimes I take the chance.

Gotta backtrack a bit, Pard...

There came a day when a man's word was no longer enuff, so you had to sign fer everything. Welp, bout the only sign most people knew was X. That didn't seem too safe to me, so I got me my own sign.

Once a schoolmarm told me about this God feller who also called hizself Alpher Zed. I remember the name cuz the tail end of it sounds a bit like my name, Zeb. The marm said that was because they start with the same letter of the Alpher Bitz, which I spose this God dude maybe invented, seein how the first letter of it is Alpher and the last one is Zed. So she showed me the sign fer Zed, which happens to be Z. From then on, when everyone else was Xin, I was Zin.

Welp, ole Zed got me by fer years until I got kicked out of a bar somewheres... to this day I ain't sure why. Onliest thing I ever heard about it was some big feller hollerin, "See the sign?" I nodded and he screamed, "Then get out!" I lit out, I figgered if he didn't want anyone seein hiz sign he shouldn't oughta left it out.

I holed up by the train station and started workin on a payback when some ole wineo hollered, "He was askin if ya read the sign."

I hollered back, "Like in Alpher Bitz?"

He nodded.

"Damn. Schoolmarmin again..."

When I had my fill of schoolmarmin I went lookin fer that bar, I sure wanted to read that sign. Turns out, not long after I lit out it burned down. I'm bettin someone who could only see the sign got a mite angry at getting kicked out.

There are times I wish I never learned them Alpher Bitz, they kept getting me into trouble. Like I said, I went lookin fer a war to make money on. Seems a bunch of ole boys were fightin something called the Silver War. Not sure why, I figgered the gold had run dry and the silver was most gone, too. People get a bit het up when it comes to money.

Wed been in hell goin on a week when we got pinned down between two artillery units. The balls kept flyin, blowin everything to pieces. I was holed up next to a young feller who kept calling fer this God dude to help him. I figgered he'd taken a hit so I bellied my way over to him.

"Steady, Pard, where you been hit?"

"In the gut, you the chaplain?"

"Name's Zeb. Looks like you wont see this night end, Pard. Anythin I can do fer ya?"

He groaned out, "Read me my bible."

He handed me a worn book so I hunkered down next to him and read the whole damn thing. He died before I was halfway through, but it was kinda interstin so I just kept on readin.

Onliest thing worse than goin to war is leavin it... hardly ever seems to be work available for a warrin man but war. I put my hand to a few things, but I soon tired of the hardscrabble life. Normally, I leave banks alone, but times were tight and nothin else was workin.

I found a railroad bank in a dirtwater town and bird-dogged it for a week. It looked to be an easy mark and I was dreamin of takin a long rest when I finished this up. Things were goin well, the safe was almost cleaned out when everything fell apart. Some old feller come by the bank and caught a look at me in there. I put him down before he could start hollerin, but it was too late, the sheriff come bustin out of the jailhouse with a shotgun in his hands. I put one between his eyes and rode out fast. Its bad luck to kill a lawman, so I figgered I better lay low somewheres until things weren't so het up.

I remembered that kid and his bible so I got me some preachin clothes and started callin myself Revrind. If Ida known how easy the preachin thing was, I would never have touched that bank. I could just ride up into some town and commence to hootin and hollerin about God and they would come a runnin to hear "the good word".

The folks liked the show so much they'd be fightin for the privilege of havin me over to supper, the losers gave me money. I got mighty comfortable with this lookout, so I just stayed a preacher as long as I could.

My luck ran like the other side of a broken mirror, I lived in gravy for seven years and then it turned real bad.

I was runnin a tent revival in scrub country. It was a whinin-wind night, everyone was a bit loco and the revival was runnin hot. I was at the come-down-and-get-reborn part and it was a packed house. I was screamin myself horse, castin out demons and healin all manner of ailments when this old feller laid hands on me.

I thought he was lookin fer a healin or castin so I took hold of his head and commenced to jabberin, "Heal... heal... out you demon of illness... leave this vessel!" Welp, sometimes them demons get pretty feisty, the ole boy sure was getting rough with me. "Out you demon spirit," I was screamin into his face when he clocked me.

I woke up in a miserable cell in some ditchweed town. I put on my best preachin voice and hollered out, "What brings me to such a place, good man?" A voice called back, "Can the sweet talk, there's a five hunnert dollar reward on yer head."

Damn... that bank job.

I slept fer a while, studyin up on the problem. I hollered out, "They tryin me here?" The voice hollered back, "Marshall's comin fer ya." I nodded to myself... it gave me a chance. He came the next night.

We grabbed a bite to eat then he shackled me to my horse. We headed west through that night and into the next day. At sunset he started castin about fer a campsite.

When we finished up the last of the joe he shared off a shot of whiskey and shackled me fer the night. I bedrolled up and went to sleep... the moon was down when I woke up. I was halfway across the river when I felt a kick to the back of my head.

As I watched the red flow I thought, "Reward must be dead or alive..."

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


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