One Blood

Chapter Sixty-Eight

Chapter Sixty-Eight

 

Six years earlier

1998

New Orleans, LA

 

Moses descended into a room that contained a bullpen that once held slaves prior to auction. The air was thick with the stench of mildew and rot. The only light emanated from a small crack in the door behind him. If the boogeyman had a hideout, this would be it.

He spotted the real boogeyman sitting against the far wall. “Malcolm,” Moses called into the black.

Nothing returned. Moses took a few cautious steps in Malcolm’s direction.

“Stop right there,” a gravelly voice commanded.

“Malcolm, it’s Moses.”

A sigh from the wall. “So you’ve finally come to save me, that it?”

“Only God can save you, Malcolm, you know that.”

A curious pause and then, “Truer words were never spoken.”

He’s mocking me? Under these circumstances. The man is amazing.

“So how long do we have, Moses?”

“It’s not a question of time, but more a question of how we utilize what’s been allotted to us. You remember who said that?”

“Of course I remember. And I remember how little Walter did with what he had. What a waste!” Malcolm spat on the packed earth that constituted the floor of his cell.

Moses reminded himself to stay calm. Malcolm always knew how to push his buttons.

“So you’re here to do what exactly?” Malcolm asked. “Gloat? Offer sage advice? Or  perhaps some misguided spiritual counseling?”

“Living on the lam has made you bitter, Malcolm. Or maybe it’s just the reality of finally getting caught. What do you think?”   

“You should know better than that, Tabs.”

As a joke, Malcolm had nicknamed Moses “Tabs”—short for stone tablets. He’d invented the name after Moses became a minister.

Malcolm continued, “I’m here of my own free will, of sound body and mind. My conscience is clear. Yours, I’m afraid, is not. I can smell your guilt and regret from here.”

“Guilt? What do you know about guilt? You’ve been a sociopath for as long as I’ve known you!” 

Dammit, he pulled me in again. Moses took a deep breath to calm down.

“Don’t confuse my lack of sorrow for lack of conscience, Tabs. The difference between us is that I’ve found a way to make peace with my past, while you continue to drown in the world’s blood. You’re wondering what I’m up to, yes?”

Moses nodded at the darkness.

“We all atone in different ways, Brother. I’ve got to atone for my sins of arrogance, pride, and wrath. It’s just my time.”

“But why now? And why did you try to kill Lafitte?”

“Because it’s time for me to go where I’m most needed.”

Moses laughed out loud. “You always were great at justifying your actions, you know that?”

“Where you see justification, I see purpose. Something that you’ve clearly lost over the years. But not from a lack of trying. No sir! Take Lincoln Baker for instance…what a great deed! You must’ve felt like a true angel for taking on that challenge. You think you’re serving the greater good but all you’re doing is creating tomorrow’s heartache, tomorrow’s cautionary tale, tomorrow’s regret. I’m no saint, but at least I’ve lived a regret-free existence. First Walter, and now you. Do-gooders doomed to fail due to a lack of purpose—”

“That’s enough!” Moses commanded. “I’m not here so you can unload your anger and frustration on me. I’m here to warn you…stay away from my son. Stay the hell away from him!”

Now it was Malcolm’s turn to laugh. “You came all the way down here for that? Man, you really are lost, aren’t you? Tabs, there are things in motion here that you could never understand. I won’t have to bother Lincoln. When the time comes, he’ll seek me out. I’ll teach him the meaning of purpose. And when the Big Picture becomes clear to you, Tabs, which I hope it will in time, you will understand the power of my purpose as well. And as usual, you’ll be too late to stop it…”