Interfictions by Delia Sherman

Author:Delia Sherman [Goss, Delia Sherman, Theodora]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Small Beer Press
Published: 2010-08-17T04:00:00+00:00

Climbing Redemption Mountain

Mikal Trimm

When Pa died, it was generally agreed that he might not make it to the happy side of the Afterlife. He just hadn't been sweet enough to tip the scales the right way.

"Friends, we have a soul here in grave need of intervention. The journey to Salvation comes at a price, and our Brother Lemuel Task is a few dollars short of the fare."

So said Reverend Samuels, and the rest of the congregation nodded in response.

Cole and me sat in our pew, heads bowed, lips moving, and tried not to squirm. We knew what was coming and prayer wasn't going to change things.

"Brother Task needs to travel the long, hard road, friends. He needs to go up Redemption Mountain. Can I get an amen?"

"Amen!” our neighbors chanted.

Amen, and amen, and damn y'all to Hell, Cole whispered, his face going gray under the tan.

I just sat there, picturing the Mountain.

We wrapped Pa up good and tight in real linen, and Maisy Reynolds painted a bunch of Paradise scenes on his wrappings. She really knew her Bible, and Pa's body could've been displayed at one of them fancy museums in France or Germany or New York. There was Moses as a baby in his basket, and David with his guitar, and a whole lot of saints and prophets with long beards and long faces. Mary was there, too, right there where the cloth bunched up around Pa's nethers.

Mary looked kind of like Maisy. Not sure what that meant.

The whole town came out to build the Heaven-Cart. Darby Wheelwright and Jamie Cooper and Kurt Smithy—even old Burly Mason, who didn't really have anything to do with the cart but lent moral support by yelling at people a lot and pointing.

Ladies brought basket lunches and lemonade, and the little ones ran around the fields playing Soul-Catcher or Bear-the-Cross, just like Cole and me did back before Mama died.

Course, Mama never went up Redemption Mountain. Her soul's done gone.

Pa was another story.

The Heaven-cart looked like a big beer barrel tipped over sideways. No tap, no lid. Two big wheels with heavy wooden spokes and thick iron rims, and two padded handles up front, so the folks pulling the cargo wouldn't get blisters.

Pa went into the open top of the barrel. Me and Cole took up the handles, taking a minute to settle the leather pads on our shoulders.

Reverend Samuels gave the send-off speech, speaking the words like they were new-born.

"—'The road is narrow, and few there are who follow it.’ Thus saith the Lord.” Amen. “—'Treat thy neighbor as thyself.’ Thus saith the Lord.” Amen, Brother, amen. “—'We are all brothers and sisters under the eyes of God,’ thus saith the Lord.” Amen, amen, amen, Brother. “—'Your neighbor is your brother or your sister; we are all family in His eyes.’ Thus saith the Lord.” Amenamenamen. “—'Forgive your brothers and sisters, your family, a thousand times and a thousand times again.’ Thus saith the Lord."

A hush.

"—'And help them carry their burdens, as you would want them to help you.

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