What October Brings Read online

  Buck was wearing nothing but one of Jack’s borrowed sweat pants as he bareknuckle jabbed in basic one-two combinations at a punching bag suspended from the shed’s ceiling. She had known him all her life as thin and frail, not the six feet tall, two hundred pounds of sweaty, brown muscle expertly pummeling her equipment with his powerful fists. Buck’s dark arms were slightly longer than normal for someone his height, giving him an increased range that provided an advantage he ruthlessly exploited. He had been a world heavyweight champion, one of the best boxers of the early twentieth century, a man who had three of his fights dubbed ‘the fight of the century’. She could see some of that in his movements now though he was taking things relatively easy. Buck looked just like he did in old pictures and news reel footage: tall and handsome, built like he could break through skulls with a single punch or hearts with a single smile.

  “That’s not meditating,” she said.

  “It is for me, girl.”

  He added some footwork, moving around the bag on his bare soles as his simple strikes continued.

  “All these years in this house and the closest I ever got to out here was gardening and cooking in that fucking kitchen.”

  Anaea flinched. She had never heard her grandfather curse in all her forty years.

  “You… Uh… You baked some great ham… and you never showed any interest.”

  “I did this shit hours a day for thirty years. I should never have given it up.”

  “After the accident…”

  Buck stopped, his hands falling to his sides as he pulled himself up to his full height.

  “I took punches to the head for decades but one car accident turned me into a retard. Ain’t life fucked?”

  Anaea’s grandfather had been a sweet man who cared for his third and final wife and their son by working numerous menial jobs up and down the Carolinas. Her grandmother never talked about what Buck had been like before he crashed his car in 1946 but there were more than enough articles and tabloid gossip from the time to piece together that he wasn’t the nicest person. Drinking, cheating, spending all his prize money on everything but his family… That young Buchanan Robinson was a terror Anaea was happy to have never known, and she realized she might not to be happy knowing this young Buck, either.

  “Nice setup in here, girl. I got a good workout.”

  “Glad you enjoyed it. We need to talk, Papa Buck. It’s about that nurse.”

  “Easterman? The scrawny cunt who killed me?”

  “He’s dead.”

  “Can’t say I’m broken up. Who offed him?”

  “The police aren’t sure.”

  “At least I got to look him in his blue four eyes this morning and let him know I’d be the one sending him for lethal injection this time around. Hhh. I guess someone who knew other people he killed got him first. Remember what he said in that weak voice? About killing people because he got off on trying to save them? Sick fuck had it coming.”

  Buck took a towel from a weight bench and wiped his sweaty face and muscular chest. As she watched, Anaea had to remind herself this gorgeous man barely in his twenties was her supercentenarian grandfather.

  “You stopped him.”

  “He still stuck me and killed me. It’s the best thing that could’ve happened, though.”

  “What?”

  “I’d rather spend three days like this, being myself again, than fuck knows how much time I had left in that hospital bed.”

  “The doctors said you were getting better.”

  “There ain’t much to look forward to when you’re a hundred and twenty, girl. I’ll take these three days, thanks.”

  “Papa Buck…”

  “Just call me Buck, yeah.”

  “Buck… Do you remember dying? Do you remember anything about the other side?”

  Anaea had never seen anyone with the look on Buck’s face before. She couldn’t identify it, either, beyond being possibly an otherwise impossible mélange of disparate emotions.

  “The immortician said not to talk about that. Breaks the spell early.”

  “I didn’t know, sorry.”

  “It’s OK, girl. I’m going for a shower. Have some of those little Lazarus cakes for me when I get out.”

  The immortuary provided Lazarákia since the spicy-sweet breads were part of the ongoing ritual to keep this old yet new him, this renewed him alive.

  “OK, Papa…” Anaea stopped and corrected herself. “OK, Buck.”

  “Good girl.”

  Buck squeezed her shoulder with his free hand, looked into her eyes, smiled, then went into the house. It was all Anaea could do not to pull away. As the punching bag slowly swung, Anaea wondered how much of the old Buck had returned and how much of the true Buck she had ever really known.

  IV: Deep Taint

  5:00 PM, Saturday October 31, 2020: Halloween

  “These aren’t the kind of damages I was expecting you to discuss, Dr. Greaves,” Anaea said to the woman seated across the desk from her and immortician Ayodele. The hospital administrator’s room was cozy, filled with books and family pictures and plants, its view took in the hospital garden and the river that ran through the heart of the capital along which a few tourists kayaked.

  “With the unprecedented return of your grandfather’s youth, we’re taking special note of abnormalities and anything of interest, Ms. Robinson,” Greaves began. “We have his MRI results and a preliminary genetic analysis.”

  The doctor tapped a few buttons on a keyboard, and a holographic screen appeared between her and the other two women. Greaves reached into the blue light and enhanced a slowly rotating three dimensional brain scan with her fingers.

  “Mr. Robinson’s brain as seen in his full body scan taken when he was admitted last week. As his doctor discussed with you, there was severe chronic traumatic encephalopathy common to people who fight and play football and other contact sports. Violent behavioural and destructive mood disorders are almost universally present at this level of traumatic brain injury… but everyone describes Mr. Robinson as a sweet, gentle soul perhaps a bit below average on the IQ scale.”

  “That sounds right. And what about his scan from today?”

  Greaves reached into the hologram again, enhancing and rotating a second brain scan.

  “Instead of being shrunken and withered, his brain is now, just like the rest of his body, perfectly healthy… except for here,” Greaves said while pointing at an area highlighted in yellow near the center of the second brain scan. “There is greatly reduced activity in his orbital cortex which regulates emotions, impulses, morality, and aggression. With everything around it suffering from a degenerative disease, it was impossible to see this. All that damage most likely also mitigated against the sociopathic tendencies many with this condition exhibit. Has he done anything strange since you took him home?”

  The boxing, the cursing, the way her skin crawled when he touched her shoulder and smiled at her…

  “No… I… don’t think so.”

  “Watch for them. His preliminary genetic screening showed the MAOA-L gene variant as well as at least two other mutations linked to impulsive behavior, sleep disorders, mood swings, hypersexuality, and violent tendencies. This is very serious.”

  Greaves sighed, took a deep breath, and continued.

  “I’m sorry for throwing so many terms at you, Ms. Robinson.”

  “No kidding,” Anaea replied, not even trying to appear unflustered, “since you’re telling me Buck is insane.”

  “Sociopathy manifests itself as egotism, persistent antisocial behavior, and impaired empathy and remorse… and I promise I’m done listing pathologies now. Some incredibly successful and non-violent people have these traits to varying degrees. Ruthlessness in business and sport can be an asset, and Mr. Robinson was an incredibly successful boxer. He was described as fe
arless and unflappable according to my research.”

  “Detective Bosch already called you.”

  “She asked me what the tests had found so far, and I told her only you or Mr. Robinson can divulge his medical information. She didn’t say why she was so interested. Is there something I should know about?”

  “I… don’t think so, no.”

  Immortician Ayodele touched Anaea’s shoulder, causing her to flinch.

  “I don’t believe that’s entirely true, Anaea,” Ayodele commented, “but you must decide. I decided to perform Buchanan’s rising because his soul was… very eager to return, the most eager of all those whose families vied for their return today. It spoke to me even before the ceremony, saying it would no longer die, that it was immovable. I’ve never felt such force before in my forty years of performing the rising.”

  “Did that… force have anything to do with him becoming young again?” Anaea asked.

  “That has more to do,” Dr. Greaves interjected, “with the unique gene mutations governing his Wnt and telomerase proteins.”

  “Even with resurrection as an undeniable fact,” immortician Ayodele countered, “scientists still refuse to believe in the spirit’s true power.”

  “You can resurrect the dead for three days with magic,” Dr. Greaves replied. “I want to keep people alive forever with science.”

  “Stop it!” Anaea shouted as she stood, pushing her chair back and toppling it over with a loud thud. “Fight on your own time!”

  “I’m sorry, Anaea,” Ayodele apologized. “These arguments are for another place and time. I asked to be here because I am afraid for you and your family. I should have refused such a supremely assertive soul access to the living world again, and hearing now about its body’s tendencies toward violence only strengthens that fear. You should leave him alone or let the police watch over him, anything but remain with him in your home.”

  “We agree on that, at least,” Dr. Greaves concurred.

  “There is nothing I can do to help you, Anaea. Only the arisen can break the resurrection spell before the triduum…”

  “I think you’re all overreacting,” Anaea cut the immortician off as she righted the chair. “Thank you both for the information, and I remember that immorticians are bound by a code similar to doctor-patient confidentiality. I’m going to enjoy every minute of his brief time with us. I’ll see you Tuesday morning, Ayodele.”

  Anaea walked to the door, opened it, and closed it firmly behind her.

  “I wonder what her brain and DNA look like,” Dr. Greaves mused to herself as Ayodele bowed her head in prayer to the benevolent orishas.

  V: Slow Perdition

  9:00 PM, Monday November 2, 2020: All Souls’ Day

  Apart from a persistent distant cousin of Buck’s who kept calling to get some of the supposed hospital settlement windfall, the rest of Hallowmas passed uneventfully. The young old man spent most of his time alone either in his room or training in the backyard gym. Vanessa wanted to spend time with her great grandfather but Anaea sent her to play with friends or stay longer at swimming and ballet classes. Jack wasn’t around the house much, either, due perhaps to something Anaea hadn’t witnessed but could clearly see in the cold way Buck looked at him and the resultant unease in Jack’s face.

  With the end of Buck’s time almost upon them, Anaea invited a few friends over to celebrate his life before the katabasis ceremony. The guest of honour remained silent most of the night, only tersely answering questions about what it was like boxing and winning in early twentieth-century America as a black man.

  “Sure as fuck wasn’t easy but I beat everyone stupid enough to get in that ring with the Harlem Smoke. No matter what colour you are, you still cry the same when I beat your ass.”

  His secret to longevity was just as eloquent.

  “Get knocked too stupid to die.”

  He not so politely declined requests to see his fighting technique.

  When dirty plates and glasses and bottles were randomly left around the house and those who abandoned them were long gone, only two guests remained along with the immediate family. Dionne and Makeba both worked in accounts at Quay Way, and both looked far older than their forty-five years. They helped Anaea clean up while Jack put Vanessa to bed. Buck slipped out of the proceedings half hour earlier to train in the gym one last time.

  “I should go, Ann,” Dionne said after they’d brought everything into the kitchen. “I was at church early on Sunday to get a good parking spot, and you know how Mondays at that hotel can drain you. I need a good night’s sleep or I’ll be useless to myself.”

  “Pushing fifty, no husband or kids, buried in work and the church…” a shirtless, sweaty Buck said from the back door, “I bet you’re still a virgin, too. Sounds like you’re already useless, Dionne. You don’t need God. You need fucking.”

  He smiled broadly at her shocked face.

  “I can help you with that. I saw you looking at me like I’m communion you want to swallow.”

  Dionne put down the two empty bottles of wine on the cluttered counter, turned, and walked briskly to the living room to get her bag.

  “Jesus, Buck!” Anaea shouted.

  “What do I care? I’m dying again in the morning… for good this time. Didn’t even get any pussy while I was young again.”

  The stack of dirty plates in Makeba’s hands was liable to fall to the floor and shatter. Buck walked over, took the plates from her, and put them in the sink. He grabbed a half empty bottle of Extra Old rum from beside her, had a swig, and continued smiling.

  “You should probably go with your friend… unless you want to stay and help me with my problem. Or are you and her together? I haven’t had that in a while, either.”

  “I’ll see you at work next week, Ann!” Makeba blurted out and followed Dionne into the living room and out the front door.

  “Anaea? Are you alright?” a tall, blonde man asked as Makeba rushed past him.

  “Phil?!” Anaea exclaimed, “Jack’ll be ready in a few minutes! Why don’t you wait out in your car, please?!”

  “Phil, huh?” Buck asked after taking a gulp of rum. “You’re the batty boy’s other half, right?”

  All Anaea could do was stand by the refrigerator in stunned silence.

  “Yeah, we’re a fudge package deal,” Phil explained, “and you’re the asshole who punched my man in the stomach.”

  “You hit Jack?!” Anaea shouted at Buck.

  “Little fag tried coming in my room when I was changing. He might have helped bathe and dress me when I was ancient but that shit won’t work now.”

  “I thought you should know but Jack didn’t want to tell you, Anaea, so I kept quiet.”

  “I still didn’t want her to know,” Jack said. He stood next to Phil and put a hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder. “We should do like everyone else and get the hell out of here.”

  “Jack, please…” Anaea began before Buck cut her off as he walked slowly toward the men.

  “Yeah, get the fuck out of here before I tell her you’re in the living room watching ‘Open Rearlationship’ and ‘Net Dicks’ and ‘The Little Hermaid’ on the big screen when the girls are out and you think I’m sleep…”

  It was Buck’s turn to fall silent as Vanessa pushed her way past the two men and into the kitchen in her pajamas.

  “Why’s everybody shouting?” she asked. “Papa Buck needs to sleep before his kitty basics.”

  “Katabasis,” he corrected her then scooped her up in one muscular arm.

  Anaea went numb.

  “They’ll put me back to sleep, Vanessa. At least you got to know me in my prime.”

  He gave her a kiss. She laughed and tried to push his face away.

  “You’re stinky, Papa Buck!” she said through her giggles.

  “And you’re beautifu
l just like your mama and your grandma. Now go back to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “OK, Papa Buck. G’night!” she said as she weaved her way between Jack and Phil again and back to her bedroom.

  Anaea hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath for the last minute until the pain in her chest became almost unbearable. She inhaled sharply, felt a bit lightheaded, and held the refrigerator door for balance.

  “I’ll take this baby with me so I’m not alone in bed again,” Buck said, raised the rum bottle for emphasis, and pushed past the men. “Excuse me, ladies.”

  Buck disappeared down a corridor with the slamming of his bedroom door punctuating his exit. Anaea slumped down the side of the refrigerator and sat on the kitchen floor.

  “Who is that?” she asked no one in particular. “That isn’t the man I grew up with. That isn’t the man I loved and took care of for twenty years. I need you to take Vanessa with you and Phil tonight, Jack. I… I don’t want her here and I don’t want her at the ceremony tomorrow.”

  “OK,” Jack agreed. “I’ll pack a bag and get her… quietly.”

  “Whoever that is,” Phil reasoned, “that isn’t your Buck.”

  Anaea sat outside Buck’s door for the rest of the night and into the early morning. There was nothing to do but watch and wait in the silent darkness.

  VI: A Dust Full Of Hand

  5:50 AM, Tuesday November 3, 2020

  Buchanan Robinson said nothing during his last meal of Lazarákia and a bitter drink made from tree bark called mauby. The ride to the island’s east coast was another half hour of silence between him and Anaea, a silence unbroken even after arriving at the immortuary to Yewande Ayodele’s barely restrained concern in her greeting. Buck didn’t ask where Jack or Vanessa were or if there would be anyone else but him and the two women on the immortuary’s pool deck for the ceremony. The only emotion Buck showed was when he stripped naked before following the two women in white robes into the infinity pool. He liked that their eyes took in all of his magnificent body, and he took special notice of how uncomfortable his bare flesh made his granddaughter. Buck, naked as he was reborn, floated between the women with Anaea’s hand on the back of his head.