sweet smile appeared like it was only for him. There was nothing provocative about the way she stood or sat, but Chico was still stirred by the contours of her body and the slender gracefulness of her legs and the way the shoes on her small feet turned her ankles. He gazed at the bronzeness of her hands and the dark and perfect polish on her fingernails. Other men would find her attractive but perhaps not beautiful. To him, she was every woman in the world. Some recruits were passing pictures of their girlfriends around for others to look at, but not Chico. He did not want anyone looking at her and thinking impure thoughts.
Chico made acquaintances but no real friends in boot camp. When he graduated, his family and Carlita came down to see it. They all looked very proud as he stood before them in the sharply pressed and immaculate uniform. They brought Chico’s favorite food and Chico ate with gusto and said, muy rico many times. When Chico thought that it was time, he told them exactly what he saw and heard in the dream. His grandmother crossed herself and muttered a prayer. She then put her hands on her grandson and said, “Do what La Senora tells you to do, mi hijo, this thing is truly from God.”
When Chico turned to Carlita, she was crying. She suddenly threw her arms around Chico’s neck and said, “Mi amour, I will pray for you many times every day and night. Do what God wills, and, please, allow me to do whatever I can to help you in this great work.”
When the visiting time ended, he embraced his grandmother and brother. He then turned to Carlita. “Let me look at you. I want to remember every part of you. I will take this image to war with me, and I will return and make you my wife.”
Carlita stepped very close to him. He heard his brother utter approval and his grandmother thank God. Carlita looked up into his eyes. “I am only for you, mi amour.” Then she pulled his head down and they kissed. For both of them, other than family members, that was the first kiss of their lives.
Chapter 6
Biloxi, Mississippi
Lasting, invisible to the mortal, watched the man urinate on the tree. He was tall and strong, with a handsome face and greasy blond hair. Lasting was delighted with what was going on in the mortal’s mind and knew the man was perfect for his purposes. A woman stood close by and watched as the man closed his pants and walked toward her. She was dirty with missing teeth and Lasting sensed small insects in the places where hair covered her body. The man wiped his hands on the back of her blouse and smiled.
“Hey,” she said, laughing. “Don’t wipe your piss on me.”
He grabbed the back of her neck and squeezed. “Ouch,” she said. “That hurts.”
He jerked her to him and kissed her hard on the mouth. “But you like it, don’t you, bitch?”
She tried to push his hand away. “Not that hard, BJ. I don’t like it that hard.”
He let go of her neck and started walking toward the bar. Running after him, she said, “I’m sorry, BJ. You can do anything you want. What do you want me to do?”
He turned around and slapped her. Not hard, but enough to make a clapping sound. Her hand went up to her cheek but she was smiling. “Ain’t no call for that, baby,” she said. “I know you love me.”
He pulled her to him. “You do what I say, baby? You do anything and everything I say?”
“Yeah, BJ. Anything you say.”
Lasting smiled at the interchange. He could see into the man’s seething mind and knew he could influence the man to do what was required.
The man’s name was BJ Walker.
BJ Walker
Biloxi, Mississippi - 1967
“Them dang niggers, spics, and kikes think they’s good as us. What do you say, BJ?”
BJ Walker didn’t say anything. He was thinking. For the last two hours, BJ had been drinking beer with his two best friends, Wallace Killibrew and Luke Johnson. They had known each other all their lives, and had spent many hours at this place where shady trees hung over the Gulf waters. Luke’s old Ford pickup was parked on the road about twenty yards up a grassy slope. A pyramid of empty beer cans sat on a flat concrete cover protecting an iron valve which controlled the flow of waste through a large corrugated pipe extending ten feet into the Gulf of Mexico.
Wallace, a small, mean drunk with a glass eye wanted an answer. “I said what do you say, BJ?”
“I say I’m thinking, Wallace. I’m thinking that maybe God don’t want us to just stand by and watch what’s rightfully ours turned over to New York Jews and spics and darkies that think they’s white. That’s what I think.”
“Damn right, BJ.”
Luke, a fat, pimply high school dropout from a well-to-do family said, “What we gonna do, BJ?”
“Shut up, Luke,” said Wallace. “BJ’s thinking. What we gonna do, BJ?”
“I don’t know, yet. But it’s coming. Right now, I think we should have us some fun. Let’s go find us somebody.”
There was a whoop from Wallace as they headed up the slope to Luke’s truck. Wallace grabbed the remaining six pack and started kicking Luke’s backside as the overweight boy struggled up the slope.
“Get your fat rump agoin’, boy. We gonna have some fun!”
When Wallace and Luke finally reached the truck, BJ was standing by the passenger door. “We’ll head north and see what we find.”
Luke got behind the wheel and Wallace got in the middle. BJ was on the passenger side in the coveted “shotgun” position. He never had to call it the way the rest of America did. He was the undisputed leader - the position was his.
It was about two o’clock on a Sunday afternoon and the Blacks were headed home from church. The three friends would travel far enough away from Biloxi so folks wouldn’t know them. They would find someone alone and do what they wanted. If they were lucky, they’d find a young girl and have their way with her. If not, beating the daylights out of some young buck would be just fine.
They drove until they saw two Black teenagers, a boy and a girl, walking in the same direction as the truck. The boy was walking closest to the road. BJ reached behind the seat and retrieved a baseball bat. “Slow down and get me close enough to smack this nigger’s head with this bat.”
Luke was scared and didn’t want to do this, but he didn’t think he had a choice because BJ and Wallace were his only friends. As they approached the couple, Luke slowed down. BJ leaned out the window and swung the bat. Luke heard the sickening thud of the bat and BJ yelled, “Stop!” The truck skidded to a stop on the gravel road. Opening the door and jumping out, BJ raised the bat over his head and pointed it toward heaven. “Glory be to God!” he yelled. “I done got me a nigger!”
Wallace got out of the truck and started jumping up and down and dancing some bizarre jig. Luke was petrified. He looked back and saw the boy laying face down in the dirt. The girl was kneeling over him, trying to get him
