Red Prophet Page 0,79

the big part of the land came by, with all its different races and nations, why, it changed with every sweep of the Earth, whole countries moved from one place to another, everything always shuffling around, and wars every minute everywhere. The smaller land, America, it had some too, but it was all slower, gentler. The people lived in a different rhythm. The land had its own heartbeat, its own life.

From time to time more people would come from the old world - fishermen, mostly. Off course, led astray by storms, running from enemies. They'd come, and for a time they'd live their old-world life in America, trying to build fast, and breed fast, and kill as much as they could. Like a sickness. But then they'd either join in with the Reds and disappear, or get killed off. None of them ever kept up their old-world ways.

Until now, thought Alvin. Now when we came, we were just too strong. Like getting a couple of colds maybe, and you begin to think you won't never get real sick, and then you get a dose of smallpox and you know that you were never truly sick before at all.

Alvin felt a hand on his shoulder.

"So there is where you looked," said the Prophet. "What did you see?"

"I think I saw the whole creation of the world," said Al. "Just like in the Bible. I think I saw - "

"I know what you saw. We all see this, all who have ever come to this place."

"I thought you said I was the first you brought."

"This place - there are many doors inside. Some walk in through fire. Some walk in through water. Some through being buried in the earth. Some by falling through the air. They come to this place and see. They go back and tell what they remember, as much of it as they understood, and tell it, as much as they have words to say, and others listen and remember, as much as they can understand. This is the seeing place."

"I don't want to leave," said Alvin.

"No, and neither does the other one."

"Who? Is there somebody else here?"

The Prophet shook his head. "Not his body. But I feel him in me, looking, out of my eye." He tapped the cheekbone under his good eye. "Not this eye, the other."

"Can't you tell who it is?"

"White," he said. "It doesn't matter. Whoever it is did no harm. I think maybe - will do a good thing. Now we go."

"But I want to know all the stories in this place!"

The Prophet laughed. "You could live forever and not see all the stories. They change faster than a man can see."

"How will I ever come here again? I want to see everything, all of it!"

"I will never bring you back," said the Prophet.

"Why? Did I do something wrong?"

"Hush, Roach Boy. I will never bring you back, because I will never come here myself again. This is the last time. I have seen the end of all my dreams."

For the first time, Alvin realized how sad the Prophet looked. His face was haggard with grief.

"I saw you in this place. I saw that I had to bring you here. I saw you in the hands of the Chok-Taw. I sent my brother to get you, bring you back."

"Is it cause you brought me here that you can't never come here again yourself?"

"No. The land has chosen. The end will be soon." He smiled, but it was a ghastly smile. "Your preacher, Reverend Thrower, he said to me once - if your foot gets sick, cut it off. Right?"

"I don't remember that."

"I do," said the Prophet. "This part of the land, it is already sick. Cut it off, so the rest of the land can live."

"What do you mean?" Alvin conjured up pictures in his mind, about pieces of the land breaking off and failing into the sea.

"Red man will go west of the Mizzipy. White man will stay east. Red part of land will live. White part of land will be very dead, cut off. Full of smoke and metal, guns and death. Red men who stay in the east will turn White. And White men won't come west of the Mizzipy."

"There's already White men west of the Mizzipy. Trappers and traders, mostly, but a few farmers with their families. "

"I know," said the Prophet. "But what I see here today - I know how to make the White