“I’m heading over to LuLu’s. I hear Reeves is holed up there.”
Aurora fired up a fresh cigarette, lighting it with the cherry from her last one. “Hope you got your body armor on.”
“Coming through!” A woman’s voice. I looked to my left. A young mom was trying to steer a baby stroller past me. It was a two-seater, baby in front, toddler in back. I took a half step to the right, but not fast enough.
“I got babies here!” the woman shouted. Her oversized diaper bag clipped me in the chest. She seemed amped up, on a mission. As she passed by, I caught the lettering on the back of her T-shirt.LET LIFE HAPPEN.
I turned to Aurora. “I mean it. Get back inside.”
She tossed her cigarette onto the pavement and crushed it with her heel. “You watch yourself, Judge Mary. These people ain’t here to sing ‘Silent Night.’”
I tightened my grip on my briefcase and headed down the street. Within half a block, I was surrounded by people, jostling me, crowding me, carrying me along like a stick in a stream. I couldn’t have turned around if I wanted to.
I looked from side to side for people I knew. Didn’t see anybody. Just a mix of unfamiliar faces, more white than Black. Some toted Bibles. Some carried posters.
BEFORE YOU WERE BORN, I CONSECRATED YOUsaid one. Another just said ISAIAH 49:1.
A thickset man in front of me held a little boy on his shoulders. The lettering on the back of the boy’s T-shirt saidFEARFULLY & WONDERFULLY MADE. Up ahead, I could hear a woman starting to whip a contingent into a chorus of shouts. “Life is precious! Save the babies!” I saw a row of vans parked by the curb. All from Christian churches. Some from Alabama, but most from out of state. Mississippi, Georgia, Louisiana. All over the South.
I didn’t like crowds. Never a fan of big concerts. A mosh pit was my worst nightmare. And this was starting to feel like one. I was getting claustrophobic. My heart was racing. I could hardly breathe. And the farther I went, the worse it got. I wasn’t even moving under my own power anymore. I was just getting swept along.
Somebody stepped on my heel. My right shoe came off. I shouted out, “Hey! Wait! Hold up!” But the crowd just kept moving, and me along with it. That shoe was gone. I grabbed my briefcase in both hands and held it against my chest. I started swinging my elbows, trying to make some room. But the crowd didn’t pay me any mind. It had a mind of its own.
I realized that I had no power here. No robe or gavel. These people didn’t know me from Adam. And they sure as hell didn’t give a damn what I thought.
I spotted LuLu’s about a half block up. Suddenly there was a man with a bullhorn behind me. The damn thing squeaked and squawked when he turned it on. Then he started shouting throughit. “Human rights begin before birth! Human rights begin before birth!”
The people all around me took up the chant. I was the only silent one in the jostling mass. The energy was now at a whole different level. It was no longer just a moving crowd. It was a march.
I turned to the side, trying to avoid the blast of the bullhorn. With one shoe missing, I was off balance. I tripped over somebody else’s feet and fell forward. My head hit somebody’s hip on the way down. My briefcase landed hard on the pavement and I landed right on top of it.
“Stop!” I shouted, as if anybody could hear me.
Work boots and running shoes stomped by inches from my face. For a second, I thought I was about to be trampled to death. When I pressed my right hand onto the asphalt to push myself up, somebody stepped on it. I let out a howl. Felt like my fingers were broken.
At that moment, I felt a strong arm around my waist, and then somebody scooped me up and set me on my feet. It was a muscular white man, with tattooed arms and a thick beard. He stood like an oak, holding me in front of him as the mass surged around us. He leaned down and spoke right into my ear. “You okay?”
I nodded, out of breath. My knees were banged up. My blouse was dirty and torn.
When my rescuer stepped back, he kept his hands on my shoulders, steadying me. I could see a silk-screened image on his T-shirt. A Confederate flag draped over a crucifix, as if Jesus had left it there.
“Can you walk?” he asked.
“I’m fine. Thanks.”
“Praise the Lord!” he said.
“Praise the Lord!” I said right back. At least that was one thing we could agree on.
I thanked him again, then shoved my way through the crowd until I was huddled in the entryway of LuLu’s. Through the glass door, I could see Reeves inside at a table, talking to two of his associates. I couldn’t imagine what he’d say when he saw me in this kind of shape.
As I tried to collect myself, I watched the marchers stomp past, waving their signs, chanting their chants, blocking out everything that was familiar on Prairie Street.
I was born in this town. Grew up here. But I didn’t know it anymore.
Union Springs, Alabama, had gone batshit crazy.
CHAPTER
