He pushed the jar toward my mouth, passing it under my veil. The rim of the jar touched my lips. It was the most horrible thing I had ever tasted. Rancid as acid. Musky as rotten leaves. It made my lips burn and my throat tighten up.
Mitchell pulled the jar back and took a long drink. He definitely didn’t want to share. I watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed the bitter liquid down. He drank much more than his share before passing it on, then stepped back to move among the crowd again. A couple of girls came up to talk to me. They seemed to be concerned. “Hey, how are you?” one of them asked, but before I could answer, Mitchell was back at my side. Pulling me to keep me close, he went back to preaching about God and how he had sent his prophet out among the sinners. A young woman with a sword tattoo in the middle of her chest seemed to tire of his preaching.
“Are you Jesus?!” she demanded sarcastically.
“No, but I am his prophet.”
She studied his robe and slippers, casting a suspicious eye on me. “Am I a sinner, then?” She swept her arm around the room. “Are all of us sinners? I don’t like being called a sinner. None of us do.”
A few other people started gathering around. Mitchell, ever anxious for attention, began to preach even louder. An argument quickly developed until another woman stepped up and pulled him by the arm. She seemed to be in charge and she shoved him toward the door. “You are not welcome here!” she shouted, pushing him out of the house. “Go and do your preaching somewhere else!”
“You are my guardian angel!” Mitchell told her again and again. “You have saved me. You have delivered me from danger. You have saved the prophet of the Lord.” She didn’t seem to be impressed. She shoved him off the porch.
We stood in the front yard for a moment. It seemed that Mitchell was thinking of the next thing that we could do. Barzee was worn out and getting angry. “We’re going back to the camp,” she said.
Yes, yes, back to camp, I prayed. I was exhausted to the point of feeling sick. We had been walking and drinking all day, and it was very late now. I didn’t know what time it was, but it was well past midnight and I was so tired that I could hardly walk.
“We’re going back to camp,” Barzee said again.
Mitchell only nodded at her blankly. I don’t know if he was seeing leprechauns or unicorns, but it was obvious that he was not in this world.
We started walking, dragging our feet along. We got as far as Greek Row, where most of the fraternities and sororities are located on the U of U campus, when Mitchell suddenly sat down and said that we had to rest awhile. He was so drunk and out of it, he couldn’t go on. Barzee was furious. For hours she had been trying to get him to go back to camp. She didn’t want to go to the party. She didn’t want to stay there so long. She didn’t want to listen to him preaching, or watch him guzzle whatever concoction was in the jar. Now it was approaching morning, and he wanted to lie down on the side of the road and take a nap! She waited for as long as she could stand it, then stood up and yelled at him. “Immanuel, you are not acting as the Lord’s servant!”
You’re just noticing that? I thought sarcastically.
“You are not acting like a prophet of God.”
Mitchell didn’t move.
“Get up!” Barzee started screaming. “Get up, or I’m taking Esther with me and leaving you.”
Mitchell looked at her with a drunken and dazed expression. Long seconds passed. He didn’t move.
Barzee had had enough. “Esther and I are leaving!” she announced. She grabbed me by the arm. “Get up, you’re coming with me.” I struggled to my feet. She held my hand and started to pull me back up toward the mountains. We stumbled along, both of us exhausted. Too much walking. No food. Too many parties and too much alcohol. We made it to the main path, stumbling in the moonlight, then walked half a mile or so before turning up the narrow trail that led to our camp. I noticed that it was getting lighter now. Daybreak was not far away. I stumbled on, following Barzee in a stupor, too tired to think about anything but putting one foot in front of the other. Past both of the rock outcroppings. Past the spot where the stream crossed the trail. The eastern sky grew lighter, bringing on the gray light of dawn. We hiked a mile or so farther, then turned and made our way straight up the side of the mountain. There was no trail and we had to cut our way through the brush and trees, the dry leaves crunching under our feet. It was fully light by now. The mountainside grew steeper and I didn’t know if I had the strength to climb any longer. Just when I thought I couldn’t go on, we broke out of the trees. An open meadow lay before us. I immediately recognized that we were at one of the lower camps. Barzee marched over to where they had hidden their supplies, pulling me along. While she sorted through their gear, I fell in exhaustion on the ground, closed my eyes, and instantly fell asleep. Barzee kicked my feet. “Help me!” she demanded. Together, we set up the small purple tent.
The instant we were finished, I crawled inside and passed out from exhaustion.