One Blood

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen

 

Monday

Lake City, LA

 

Moses Mouton stared down at the tombstone. The granite inscription was blurry at first, then cleared to reveal the words: 

Lincoln Baker

1974-2002

 

The strength went out of Moses’ legs. He collapsed before Lincoln’s grave.

How did this happen?

 “What a shame, Moses,” a female voice spoke from behind him. “We couldn’t save him.”

Moses turned to see Juanita as she’d been in the old days with Walter, at the height of her beauty and strength. Her butter pecan skin glowed with health, and her curly, auburn-tinged hair was pulled back into a bun, accenting her high cheekbones and strong jaw line.

“Juanita?”

“It’s okay, Moses. It’s not your fault. You did more for him than anybody.”

“But it wasn’t enough,” Moses pleaded.

“This was all my doing,” Juanita replied. “I couldn’t find him in time. And now Malcolm has filled his head up with hatred and sent him off to his death.” Juanita’s face contorted as guilt and sorrow took over her facial muscles. “Lincoln was supposed to avenge me…for the life that was supposed to be mine. We all have ghosts, Moses.”

“What is that supposed to mean, Juanita? Juanita!”

Moses’ voice pierced his silent bedroom. The nightmare clung to him like a wet parachute and his shirt was soaked with perspiration. He peered into the darkness, trying to hold on to the essence of the dream. There was an immediate sense of relief realizing Lincoln was still alive, but it was quickly replaced by a growing feeling of dread.

This was the second night in a row he’d awoken from this terrifying dream. Moses had to stop fighting Fate. He knew what he had to do. After leaving a note for his stepson, Brandon, he got dressed and headed out.

The early morning sun illuminated his path. When she put on her best, Louisiana truly was beautiful. The so-called “Sportsman’s Paradise” was more than the sum of wetlands, swamps, and tracts of farmland. This morning it was reflective lakes, endless fields of rich green foliage, and sweet, pine-scented air. He contemplated his mission as he sped by all this, trying to outrun the ghosts from his past.