climb through a painful, mysterious,
sucking, black morass into semi-consciousness. For some time Jubal
had been dimly aware of a struggle going on around him and in which
he was tenuously involved, but only from a vague, far distance.
That struggle somehow seemed not to involve him directly, but was
one that was being waged valiantly around him and on his behalf.
Sorting it all out was too confusing to him, so he decided not to
bother right now.
When his eyes slowly cracked open, they saw
nothing that was familiar to them. He was also in excruciating
pain.
Maybe I’m
dead , flitted vaguely through his mind,
only to be immediately rejected.
Too much pain. If you’re
dead, you don’t hurt , he
decided.
Then he frowned and wondered how he knew
that. After all, he’d never been dead before. And to the best of
his knowledge, no other living soul possessed any first-hand
knowledge about whether or not pain persisted after life ended. All
Jubal Green knew for sure that there was an inordinate amount of
pain during life itself. If he was still alive.
His thoughts began spinning around and
making him dizzy, so he decided to stop thinking. He concentrated
instead on seeing.
When his eyes had had a chance to focus in
the dimly lit room, he was too weak to lift his head, or even turn
it so that he could check out his surroundings. Instead, he took a
painful survey of the length of his body which seemed to stretch
out forever in front of him.
He was surprised to find that he was naked
and had a bandage wrapped around his chest. He couldn’t see too
much of that particular bandage because it was so close to his
chin, and he didn’t have enough strength to raise his head. There
was more white linen encircling his thigh. The idea that he was
being wrapped for burial crossed his mind, but he rejected it with
a weak scowl.
The entire right side of his upper body hurt
like fire, and the whole left side of his lower body felt as though
somebody had beat him with a steel mallet. The rest of him didn’t
feel too good, either. He couldn’t have moved even if he’d been in
the mood to, which he wasn’t. He felt remarkably lazy. Jubal Green
had never felt lazy before to the best of his recollection, and he
hoped it wouldn’t become a habit. He was used to getting things
done. Jubal scorned lazy people.
He couldn’t remember what he had been doing
before he woke up in this strange place.
He became slowly aware that there was a head
resting on his belly. He frowned. That didn’t seem right,
somehow.
He squinted down what seemed like miles and
miles of his own naked flesh to concentrate on the dark, tousled,
honey-blond head that lay there. The head was actually butting up
against his waist, in the little crook there where it joined his
hip. Jubal Green didn’t think that was quite proper and he wondered
if he’d been sporting with a whore before he went to sleep. He
couldn’t quite remember but, if he had been, it seemed somehow out
of character.
He had a foggy recollection that he and
somebody—oh, yes, he and Dan Blue Gully, it was—had been doing
something important. Jubal Green never sported with whores when he
and Dan Blue Gully were doing important things. They were always
very single-minded when they were working.
Still, he couldn’t account for that
head.
Maybe I am
dead , he thought. Maybe that’s an angel .
That didn’t make sense to him and his frown
deepened.
Just then Maggie gave a deep sigh in her
sleep and turned her head over. She had finally fallen asleep
sitting beside the bed. She had been holding Jubal Green’s legs
down when he was thrashing so hard that she was afraid he’d reopen
his thigh wound and bleed to death.
When his struggles had gradually ceased, her
exhaustion overcame her and her eyes had just shut as she sat
there, arms still draped over Jubal’s right leg, and with her head
lying practically in his crotch. By that point in her life, she
hadn’t even noticed the impropriety of
sucking, black morass into semi-consciousness. For some time Jubal
had been dimly aware of a struggle going on around him and in which
he was tenuously involved, but only from a vague, far distance.
That struggle somehow seemed not to involve him directly, but was
one that was being waged valiantly around him and on his behalf.
Sorting it all out was too confusing to him, so he decided not to
bother right now.
When his eyes slowly cracked open, they saw
nothing that was familiar to them. He was also in excruciating
pain.
Maybe I’m
dead , flitted vaguely through his mind,
only to be immediately rejected.
Too much pain. If you’re
dead, you don’t hurt , he
decided.
Then he frowned and wondered how he knew
that. After all, he’d never been dead before. And to the best of
his knowledge, no other living soul possessed any first-hand
knowledge about whether or not pain persisted after life ended. All
Jubal Green knew for sure that there was an inordinate amount of
pain during life itself. If he was still alive.
His thoughts began spinning around and
making him dizzy, so he decided to stop thinking. He concentrated
instead on seeing.
When his eyes had had a chance to focus in
the dimly lit room, he was too weak to lift his head, or even turn
it so that he could check out his surroundings. Instead, he took a
painful survey of the length of his body which seemed to stretch
out forever in front of him.
He was surprised to find that he was naked
and had a bandage wrapped around his chest. He couldn’t see too
much of that particular bandage because it was so close to his
chin, and he didn’t have enough strength to raise his head. There
was more white linen encircling his thigh. The idea that he was
being wrapped for burial crossed his mind, but he rejected it with
a weak scowl.
The entire right side of his upper body hurt
like fire, and the whole left side of his lower body felt as though
somebody had beat him with a steel mallet. The rest of him didn’t
feel too good, either. He couldn’t have moved even if he’d been in
the mood to, which he wasn’t. He felt remarkably lazy. Jubal Green
had never felt lazy before to the best of his recollection, and he
hoped it wouldn’t become a habit. He was used to getting things
done. Jubal scorned lazy people.
He couldn’t remember what he had been doing
before he woke up in this strange place.
He became slowly aware that there was a head
resting on his belly. He frowned. That didn’t seem right,
somehow.
He squinted down what seemed like miles and
miles of his own naked flesh to concentrate on the dark, tousled,
honey-blond head that lay there. The head was actually butting up
against his waist, in the little crook there where it joined his
hip. Jubal Green didn’t think that was quite proper and he wondered
if he’d been sporting with a whore before he went to sleep. He
couldn’t quite remember but, if he had been, it seemed somehow out
of character.
He had a foggy recollection that he and
somebody—oh, yes, he and Dan Blue Gully, it was—had been doing
something important. Jubal Green never sported with whores when he
and Dan Blue Gully were doing important things. They were always
very single-minded when they were working.
Still, he couldn’t account for that
head.
Maybe I am
dead , he thought. Maybe that’s an angel .
That didn’t make sense to him and his frown
deepened.
Just then Maggie gave a deep sigh in her
sleep and turned her head over. She had finally fallen asleep
sitting beside the bed. She had been holding Jubal Green’s legs
down when he was thrashing so hard that she was afraid he’d reopen
his thigh wound and bleed to death.
When his struggles had gradually ceased, her
exhaustion overcame her and her eyes had just shut as she sat
there, arms still draped over Jubal’s right leg, and with her head
lying practically in his crotch. By that point in her life, she
hadn’t even noticed the impropriety of
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