"You told her."
The reward for Ruthie's correct guess was her favorite thing in the world: Ben's smile.
"Yeah." He bent to plant a kiss on her forehead, then sat down beside her on the trailer steps.
Good, she thought. He needs to get some sun.
And it didn't hurt that the narrowness of the steps required they sit very close together.
Times like this, durin' the day, our life can seem almost normal. He can seem almost normal.
But she knew that was an illusion.
x
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Ben wasn't well. The near-fatal wound he'd received in New Canaan was no longer visible, but it hadn't really healed. At least, that was what he believed. Even during the day, in the blessed sunlight that seemed to sustain him, he was often in pain. He tired quickly. And he'd lost his appetite; it seemed to Ruthie that he barely ate enough to keep body and soul together.
The nights were worse. Without fail, they brought intense pain, fever, and delirium. For reasons unknown to Ruthie, he imagined buzzards were trying to eat him alive. Night after night she nursed him through it, while poor Gabriel cowered in his corner of the trailer. When morning came, Ben and Ruthie were both so exhausted that they collapsed, locked in each other's arms, to sleep for half the day.
She'd heard the whispers - in some quarters, giggles - about her, in her mid-fifties, being shacked up with a nineteen-year-old lover. Wonder what they'd think if they knew our sex life is zilch - 'cause Ben don't have the energy for it? No one would ever learn that from her. Her love for him was decidedly sexual; and yet, she loved the whole person. Whatever he could give her was enough. More than enough.
She wondered at times whether his suffering was really caused by a magical wound, or by the guilt that was eating at him. Damn Samson for puttin' ideas in his head! I'd like to throttle him.
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"How'd you know I told Libby?" Ben asked, as he fished out his pack of cigarettes and his lighter.
"Your walk. It looked decisive." She nodded acceptance of a cigarette, and paused while he lit smokes for both of them. "I reckoned that if you hadn't told her, it wouldn't o' been such a firm decision. You'd still be waverin'."
"Guess you're right." He stuffed the lighter in his pocket, sat back, and took a long drag on his cigarette. His free hand found Ruthie's, and he laced his fingers through hers.
Mmm. Oh, yesss...
Why did mere contact with his fingers excite her more than the full menu of sex with any other man?
Unfortunately, he was still thinking about New Canaan. Gazing into the distance, he said, " 'Course, I only told her what we talked about before. The idea that allows for a way Jonesy could be alive."
Ruthie frowned. "I know you got others. But -"
"What if he's dead, Ruthie - but he didn't die like Sofie told us?" Now he turned his head, and his troubled eyes sought hers. "What if Stroud didn't shoot him?"
"I don't like where you're goin'."
"Hell, I gotta face it. What if Jonesy died the same goddamn way as Justin's thousands o' followers? By the time Sofie left New Canaan, she must o' realized I got powers, same as Justin. Maybe she figures one or the other of us done all that killin', but she don't know which. An' she's been lyin' to protect me."
"If she has," Ruthie burst out, "she's as nutty as Samson! I ain't never bought into that notion o' his, that you somehow killed seventeen thousand people - while you were unconscious! - to avenge what you thought was Sofie's death. An' your sin brought Justin back to life, 'cause he's the personification of Evil? The whole idea's ridiculous!"
Her forgotten cigarette burned her fingers. She muttered an oath and disposed of it, grinding the butt under her heel. Ben, belatedly remembering his, grunted and did the same.
Then he said soberly, "Ruthie, there's somethin' I should tell you. Somethin' I shoulda told you before now."
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She felt a chill. " 'Bout Sofie?" She was careful to keep her voice neutral. I knew somethin' was developin' between them before Sofie left. I'm sure Ben loves me, but maybe he loves both of us? He's managed to think of an excuse for her lyin' that would make her noble rather than selfish...
Damn, I shoulda brought this up myself, to make it easier for him.
He gave her a quizzical look. "Sofie? It does have to do with her, but mostly it's 'bout my powers..." His voice trailed off, and a hint of color came into his cheeks. "Were you thinkin' 'bout me an' Sofie? 'Bout our, um, doin' stuff together?"
If his cheeks were pink, Ruthie suspected her own were crimson. "Yeah, I guess that's what I meant. I've been thinkin' for weeks that I oughta make this clear. If you care for her - hell, if you love her, even if it's her you want to be with - it's okay, an' you shouldn't feel guilty about it. I love you, but you ain't never been promised to me. Not even now."
But if he wants to be with Sofie, will she want to be with him, with the problems he's havin'? If I let him go, will I be hurtin' him?
Ben said quietly, "I don't love Sofie, never have. I love you."
She realized that was the first time he'd spoken the words. In fact, he sounded surprised, as if the truth had just dawned on him.
She wanted to grab him and smother him with kisses. But before she could act on that rash impulse, he said, "I did have sex with Sofie, though. Just once. Remember that night on the road to Damascus, when we stopped to pick up the folks from Daily Brothers?"
"Yeah, sure. But you don't need to tell me 'bout this, Ben -"
"I think I do. I was real antsy that night, 'cause I was in a hurry to get to Damascus. An' Sofie, for some reason, insisted on sittin' in my truck the whole time we were stopped. She said I didn't hafta stay there with her, but - hell, I think any guy in that situation woulda felt obliged to stay an' keep her company, no matter what she said."
Ruthie nodded. Any well-mannered guy.
"So between bein' impatient to get movin', an' bein' stuck in that truck with Sofie for hours on end, while everyone else was partyin'..." He sighed. "I know that's no excuse. I ain't sayin' she seduced me. It was at least as much my fault as hers. But we did it, an' we warn't usin' a rubber. That caused me some worry later."
"I can see where it would." Privately, Ruthie was surprised he'd even heard of rubbers. "So...that was the night Sofie disappeared. Or rather, I s'pose she left the next mornin'. On what terms did you an' her part?"
Ben made a face. "I had to leave her in the truck, to go help Jonesy. Remember the storm? Had to batten things down. By the time I got back, Sofie was sound asleep in her trailer. Early next mornin', Samson an' me agreed I should take the truck an' go on ahead to Damascus. She was still asleep when I left."
Thoughtfully, he added, "She'd been coaxin' me to leave with her. Before we had sex, or were even startin' to get close. I guessed later that what she really wanted was the truck. If two people was to leave together in a stolen truck, an' Samson knew they could spell each other at the wheel, he'd prob'ly just let 'em go - not involve the law."
"Makes sense," Ruthie agreed. An' it also makes me suspect Sofie did seduce him, even if he was too innocent to realize it.
"Anyway," he continued, "that made me worry 'bout her in New Canaan, maybe more'n I would have another hostage. For fear she might be carryin' my child, an' Justin might have some supernatural way o' knowin' it. But" - another grimace - "she ain't said nothin' since she's been back. An' there ain't really much chance I coulda got her pregnant. I was prob'ly shootin' blanks."
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Before the startled Ruthie could ask why he thought that, he moved on to something else. " 'Bout my powers...how much do you know? Samson may o' told you more than I have."
"I-I don't think so," she said slowly, as she tried to recall her conversations with Samson. "I know you have miraculous healin' powers." She smiled. "You saved Jonesy's life, prob'ly saved mine. An' your healin' Gabe's arm was real sweet." When Jonesy stunned everyone by revealing what Ben had done for him, she'd realized he must have used his powers to help her, too. Later, she'd gotten him to confirm it. He'd surprised her by telling her he'd also healed Gabe's arm - because he felt responsible for its being broken.
"Besides that," she went on more soberly, "I understand that you an' Brother Justin are somethin' other than ordinary humans. Avatars. You're Light an' he's Dark. He's a threat to the world, an' for some reason, it's you that's s'posed to fight an' destroy him. Management was like you, but older."
Ben nodded. "That's all true. But it's important you know this. Bein' what I am, 'Light' or not, I've done things I ain't comfortable with. Things you won't be comfortable with.
"Management died in Damascus. I know Samson told everyone 'bout that. But have you ever wondered how he died?"
"Uh, no." She'd simply assumed that a recluse who never left his trailer must have been a feeble old man.
Eyes locked on hers, Ben said steadily, "I killed him."
"What?"
"He wanted me to kill him," Ben explained. "He was old an' ill. An' the way it works with our kind, my killin' him, with him not resistin', would give me all his knowledge an' power." He was quick to add, "I know I prob'ly don't seem smarter or stronger since then! But I do have a better understandin' o' what I am. An' without the strength he gave me, I prob'ly wouldn't o' survived New Canaan."
Ruthie swallowed hard. "He explained this business 'bout the knowledge an' power, an' asked you to kill him?"
"No. He was afraid that if I warn't upset, desperate to protect someone else, I wouldn't be able to go through with it. On account o' what he looked like. Not only was he old, he was missin' both legs and an arm. And an eye, an' half his face!" Ben shuddered at the memory. "So he tricked me into killin' him by makin' me think he was tryin' to kill my pa."
"My God," Ruthie murmured. But then, shocked as she was, she pulled herself together and said, "It's all right. It don't make me think less o' you, if that's what you're worried about."
Ben managed a wan smile. "I told you that 'cause I wanted to make the point that even our kind, his an' mine - s'posed to be the good guys - ain't all sweetness an' light. There's more.
"When I heal someone, it causes injury or death somewhere else. With small healin's, that usually means I kill a bunch o' plants. Back when I fixed Gabe's arm, I didn't understand my powers like I do now. So I had him wade out into a pond with me, thinkin' we'd get away from plants an' the healin' wouldn't kill nothin'. Instead, it killed dozens o' fish!
"Healin' Jonesy required way more life-force - an' we were out in the desert, where there warn't no plants or animals. I made Libby get a safe distance away. Waited till he was close to death, with a dozen or more buzzards comin' in to feast on the remains. An'then I healed him, knowin' I'd kill all them buzzards."
"So that explains the buzzards," Ruthie whispered.
"Yeah, that explains the buzzards.
"When I healed folks in New Canaan, I was deliberately drawin' life-force from Justin. I knew that when he was that close, it'd come from him before it would anywhere else. I was tryin' to kill him without a face-to-face fight, but all I did was rile him."
He took a deep breath. "There's another power I have. Related to healin', but -"
"Wait a minute!" Ruthie cut in. "I don't see...where did this 'life-force' come from when you healed me? I don't remember plants near the trailer..." Something in his face frightened her.
He said softly, "That's what I was gonna get to next. I didn't heal you, Ruthie."
"O' course you did! You admitted it -"
"No. You may not remember, but when you asked me 'bout that, I was careful what word I used. I never told you I healed you. I said I saved you."
"Wh-what's the difference?" Suddenly trembling, she pleaded, "T-tell me what you mean! If you didn't heal me, what did you do?"
"All right." He took her hands in his, held them tight. "I have another power, Ruthie. I can...restore the dead to life."
x
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Somehow, she remembered where she was, and stifled what would have been a shriek.
But she must have blacked out for a few seconds, because the next thing she knew, she was in Ben's arms, and he was rocking her, mumbling over and over, "I'm sorry."
She clung to him as if he was her only anchor in the world. "I was dead?"
"Yeah. I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I shoulda told you sooner, found a better way -" His voice was muffled, his face buried in her hair. The powerful worker of miracles gave a very boyish sob.
x
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Ten minutes later they were both a little calmer. Ruthie sat with her head on Ben's shoulder, taking comfort from the arm that still held her tight.
Now she was ready to ask more questions. "How long was I" - about to say that way, she gulped and made herself use the fearsome word - "dead?"
Ben said quietly, "It must o' been 'bout twenty-four hours."
"Ye gods. Did Gabe know?" My poor baby!
"No. Not for all that time, anyways. But near the end -" He hesitated, then said, "Truth is, an hour or so before you came back to life, I gave up. Then I did tell him you were dead. I tried to be real gentle. But he didn't want to believe it. I guess, when you revived, he just figured I'd been wrong."
"I remember he seemed flustered. Poor baby! I was too confused myself to realize he was hidin' things." She nestled closer to Ben. "You've done even more for me than I thought."
Then, suddenly, she pulled away and sat up straight. "But...when, with all this goin' on, did you kill Lodz? Was it for the reason I guessed, that you figured out he'd put the snake in that bag?"
"I've been waitin' for you to think o' Lodz. An' no, it warn't for that reason. I didn't know he was to blame till Management told me."
"Management told you? But how -?"
"It ain't a pretty story," he said bluntly. "But before we get to Management's part in it...you know 'bout life-force bein' needed for healin'. Restorin' life that's gone takes more, not less.
"The only way I can bring a dead person back to life is by killin' someone else."
After a long silence, Ruthie whispered, "Oh my God."
"It warn't the first time I done it. The other time was sorta the same - I brought an innocent victim back to life by killin' the killer."
"That's why you were wanted for murder?" She hadn't seen the Wanted poster, but she'd heard about it.
"Yeah. That time, I just knew what to do. Somethin' in my nature. But then I got so scared - o' what I am - that I convinced myself it hadn't happened that way. That the victim had never really been dead, an' I'd just struck out in anger.
"When you were dead, I couldn't admit that I knew how to bring you back." He shook his head, looking as if he could scarcely believe his own obtuseness. "I went to Lodz for help! He took me to talk to Management, an' Management told me I had to kill someone.
"But I couldn't kill an innocent, Ruthie. I tried to strangle a worthless drunk in Loving, an' I couldn't bring myself to do it. That's why I gave up."
She took his hand and squeezed it. "I'm glad. I'd hate to think you did somethin' really wrong, for my sake."
"But then Management told me Lodz had murdered you. He tried to deny it, but I could sense it was the truth. So I killed him."
Shuddering, she said, "Good riddance." But why do I have the feelin' he's left somethin' out?
"O' course," he continued grimly, "the reason Management knew was that he'd been in on it! Like I said, not all sweetness an' light. The whole thing was a plot to force me to accept an' use my powers. Management was tryin' to prepare me to fight Justin."
"So that's what you meant..."
"Huh?"
She lifted his hand to her lips and kissed it. "When you were givin' me the brush-off, I accused you o' bein' scared o' somethin'. An' I remember your exact words. Only thing scares me is folks usin' other folks, to use me.
"That was it, wasn't it? They'd used me to put pressure on you, 'cause they wanted to use you. An' you didn't want it to happen again."
"Right," he acknowledged. "It woulda been a lot simpler for Management just to explain things to me, not work through that slimy Lodz. But he was afraid that if he had me in the trailer much, he'd give in to the temptation to restore his own health by drainin' me."
Shaking her head, she muttered, "Jesus."
"The reason I decided to tell you this now is that it ties in with what I'm afraid may o' happened in New Canaan.
"First off, I still don't remember that threat Samson says I made, 'bout doin' somethin' to the folks in the valley if Sofie was dead -"
"Then ain't it possible you didn't make it?" Ruthie was prepared to grasp at any straw. "I know Samson wouldn't lie 'bout somethin' like that. But Jonesy was there too, right? Couldn't he have mixed up which one o' you said it?"
"Thanks for tryin' to let me off the hook, but no. If Jonesy said it, I'd remember hearin' it. But I know, from what happened before, that my mind can play tricks on me when I'd rather not remember things I've said or done.
"What I'm thinkin' now is that there may be more I don't remember. I know I passed out after I killed Justin. I was in the same spot, out cold, when you an' the other carnies found me. But I coulda come to after that, while folks were fussin' over my wound an' not lookin' at my face.
"When Justin thought he'd won, he told me Sofie was dead. I know I was furious. I think...I think I may o' tried to use his death to bring Sofie back to life."
Ruthie gasped. "You mean...she was dead?"
He shook his head. "I ain't sure, not about none o' this. But I'm thinkin' that maybe she was dead. I tried to use Justin's death to bring her back. But I came to, in the Management trailer, an' sensed that it hadn't worked. That I couldn't use his death to revive someone 'cause I'd intended to kill him anyway.
"An' then I was so teed off that I reached out with my mind, brought Sofie back to life - but killed way more people than the one I needed to kill. Usin' what strength I had to do that coulda made me pass out again. An' like Samson said, my committin' a sin on that scale coulda brought Justin back."
Ruthie thought for a few seconds. Then she said, reluctantly, "Knowin' that you can bring dead people back to life...this does seem more believable than Samson's idea, that had you doin' all that killin' for revenge. I don't like it, but I gotta admit it's possible."
Ben gave her an affectionate squeeze. "Thank you for bein' honest. It helps, somehow, just to be able to share what I'm thinkin'."
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They sat for another half hour, soaking up the sun. Ben's eyelids were drooping, and Ruthie held herself very still, allowing him to rest. But then a burst of noise from the midway jolted him back to alertness; she caught the tightening of his mouth that signaled a twinge of pain.
She waited until she was sure the spasm had passed. Then, gently caressing his hand, she asked a question that had been nagging at her while he dozed. "Ben, why do you think you can't father children? I've been regrettin' that I'm too old to give you one! 'Cause you're bound to be feelin' better, one o' these days."
That statement was delivered with a cheery optimism she was far from feeling. When he looked at her, the glint in his eyes told her he wasn't fooled.
But he promptly addressed the question. "I ain't sure I can't have none," he said slowly. "But I'm glad you already have a child o' your own, an' ain't dependin' on me.
"The thing is, there's prophecies that the Tattooed Man - that's Justin - will be the last Avatar. From the knowledge Management gave me an' the books he left, it seems our kind have always thought the Tattooed Man would be the last one born. Younger than the one who'd have to fight him."
Ruthie went rigid. "But that ain't so."
"No," Ben said heavily. "So I think the prophecies must really mean he'll be the last survivor.
"I hope that don't mean he's destined to defeat me. It might not. I've tried just to do my best, not fret over it.
"We will fight again, o' course. As for how I'm feelin' - for all I know, Justin may not be doin' no better'n me. Right now, I ain't sure whether I need a certain kind o' weapon, or how to get it if I do. But let's say that problem's solved.
"Here's a thought I've had. If we each wound the other - fatally - an' he lives a few minutes longer'n me, he'll be the winner. But if I wound him fatally, an' his goons kill me before he dies, he'll be the last survivor, but I'll be the winner, 'cause it warn't him that killed me. Does that make sense?"
Ruthie was squirming. "Yeah, I guess it does. But I hate to think about you dyin'!"
Ben said wryly, "I ain't crazy 'bout the idea myself. Another possibility is that Justin will only be the last Avatar if he wins. 'Cause he'll do somethin' that will actually wipe out humanity. No more Avatars, no more nothin'!
"But if there's a chance he can lose...I ain't found no prophecies 'bout more Avatars, so it seems our race is gonna come to an end, either way.
"If Justin fathers a son, or I do, they'll be Avatars. The least bloody way to account for the lines endin' is that we either can't father children, or just ain't destined to, no matter how many women we sleep with."
The least bloody way? By now, Ruthie thought the afternoon sun wasn't providing much warmth at all.
"Are there many o' these prophecies?" she asked. "Are they ancient, or recent? Maybe you're puttin' too much stock in them."
He shook his head. "There must be hundreds o' them," he said morosely. "From all parts o' the world, all time periods. An' they're pretty much the same. All describin' a man with a dead tree tattooed on his chest, more tree tattoos on his back...a Dark Prophet who's destined to be the Usher of Destruction, the last of our kind. The Omega."
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For a moment, Ruthie wondered if she'd heard correctly.
But I know I did.
Oh my God!
"Ben," she said in a suddenly shaky voice, "I ain't sure what that word means. But I think someone other than Justin may be the Omega!"
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The End