The Feet of God

94 - TROUBLE SEEMS TO FOLLOW ME

“So, where the hell are we?” Charlie asked, swallowin’ another spoonful.

“Swamp,” the chef answered.

“What?” Charlie asked, tilting the bowl into his mouth.

“Swamp,” our host raised a huge Black hand and pointed his long finger out the back window.

Charlie slurped some more.  “Oh, yeah, swamp.  What swamp?”

“Jus swamp.”

“All right, then,” Charlie spit something onto a dish next to his bowl.  “What’s your name?”

“Tiberius.”

Charlie tilted the bowl back again as he spoke.  “Tiberius?”

The dude propped himself upright.  “Tiberius Juneteenth Jones.”

Charlie leaned back and pushed his empty bowl forward for a second serving.

“Well, Tiberius, that’s a great name.  Yeah, sure, great name.  And great gumbo, too.  That’s what you call it?  Gumbo?  I don’t know much about your soul food quizeen.  But that’s some great gumbo, if that’s what it is, that’s for sure.”

Tiberius beamed as he walked around and picked up the baseball bat I’d brought along with me.  “You won’t be needin’ this,” he grinned at me, tossing it out the window into his backyard where a dog was bark’n.

“So, why ain’t cars parked outside and people lined up to get into this place?” Charlie asked.  “Once a great place like this gets discovered, you know….”

“Blowed away.”

“Huh?”

“Got blowed away.  Everyone who came.  Got blowed away inna hurricane.  A few years back.  And mos people dunwanna live inna swamp, so dey goway.”

Tiberius ladled more gumbo into Charlie’s bowl.

Charlie asked, “Why’d you stay on then?”

Tiberius locked eyes with Charlie.  “Too much fuss.  Too many folk.  Too much go’n on in da worl.  So I stay inna swamp.  It provides.  I go out an fish an live away from da worl full’a people.  Live a free life.”

Charlie stared into our host’s eyes and I could see their souls meet.  I knew who Charlie was in that instant.  He was one of them guys who’s always searching and waiting and looking for his personal messiah, that person who’ll come up and say, “Follow me.”  And then he’s gone, man, gone.  And I saw it happen right there over a bowl full’a gumbo.

“Yeah,” Charlie sighed.

A few seconds of silence filled a big space of time, then there followed the sound of a car coming down the muddy road.

“Who’s that?” Charlie stood up looking nervous.

Tiberius went to the screen door and peeked out.  “Po-leez.”

We watched as Tiberius stepped out onto the eatery’s small front porch to greet the law enforcement officer standing out there in his official capacity.

From where we sat we could see parts of a uniform and the edge of a state trooper’s hat, but Tiberius obscured most of the man himself.

“Ty, how you doin’, Ty-boy?  I ain’t been down here in…well, let’s say a month of Sundays…now have I?  You been keepin’ your nose clean?  Not lootin’ the ruins, are you?”

“No sir, I been inna swamp busy with catfish, perch and crawfish.”

“Ain’t been poachin’ no gators, now have ya?” the officer asked.  “I guess that’d be a fish ‘n game problem if’n ya did.”

“No, sir.  Caught me an anaconda, though.  You like a nice snakeskin to take home for one o’ yo’ girls?”

“No, no, thanks all the same, Ty.  I actually come on sorta business.  You know who that van parked right over there belongs to?”

“Waull sir, long about yesterday a fat sweaty guy come down here an he asked if’n he could rent my boat.  I toll him ain’t good fishen now, but he kinda insisted, so I had to give him the boat an he wen off inna swamp, ain’t seen him since.  Something go’n on?”

The trooper gave a low whistle.  “You could say, Ty-boy.  All kinda hell broke loose.  Some nut jobs shot a bunch’a circus clowns and the killers may be headed this way.  Top that, a fertilizer truck bomb loaded with dynamite set off a meth lab.  They’re still collecting body parts all over three counties.  I tellya, it’s terrible, terrible.”

The officer’s hat and sunglasses peeked around Tiberius.  “Who you got in there?”

Tiberius dropped his voice real low.  “City folk.  Tourists.  Come to see real life out onna bayou.”

The state trooper eyed us real suspicious.

Tiberius quietly reached into his hip pocket.  “They come over from the Swanee Hotel.”  He pulled out a small wad of bills, slipping some to the officer.

“Fat sweaty guy you say?”  The lawman stroked the loose skin round his neck.  “Want me to put out a bulletin on your missing boat?”

Tiberius stood up straight.  “Naw, sir.  I find him.  Dead, likely.  Then I gets my boat back.”

The officer raised his voice a notch to include Charlie and me, “Well, you gennlemen have yourselves a nice little fishing trip.”  He tipped his hat, “Our Ty-boy here, he’s a great guide.”  He winked at Tiberius.  “I best be moving on.  Oh, before I forget, ya know that van parked out front?  Maybe that van might slip off into the water, if you ain’t careful.  Be careful Ty-boy.”

“Whatever you say, sir,” Tiberius answered.

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