Chapter 46
VIVIAN JEAN
The Cockpit Jungle, St. Elizabeth Parish
We were heroes for at least three seconds.
Zinzi lay flat on her stomach, her arms reaching for Othella while I held on to Zinzi’s ankles. Although I might not be strong, I understand leverage. Fortunately, Othella is on the lip of the sinkhole, so she can be yanked free, and we do just that.
Then, before we can celebrate our victory, we heroes become victims of the cavernous ditch. I am not sure how it happened. I thought Zinzi had pulled Othella completely free, and I eased up my grip on Zinzi’s ankles.
Then, the greedy sinkhole somehow swallows all three of us.
I cling to a root as thick as Tully’s leg, my frail arms and thin fingers wrapping tightly around the vine. Is this what happens when you try to help someone out of a hole?
I slip and can’t stop falling.
Now, all three of us might be lost. Tully will be heartbroken. Maxi will be sad and my father—how will he feel? Inconsolable? Or will he pack my body into a box and ship me back to Chicago like a stolen crate of rum?
“Vivian Jean! Reach up, Vivian Jean. Keep grabbing. Keep holding on to the roots above you.”
Another voice joins in the chant. “Come on, Vivian Jean. Climb!”
I feel a hand helping me rise while another hand pushes me from behind.
“I don’t know if I can,” I mutter softly. The thin muscles in my arms burn and my skin is raw from grasping limestone rocks, roots, and clumps of mud. Then, I find myself stuck. “I can’t move,” I cry. “If I let go, I’ll fall.”
“If you don’t move, you’ll die.” This voice belongs to Zinzi, who is below me, the owner of the hands pushing my bottom up from beneath.
I’m not sure I can do as she tells me. My head is hurting. The duppies in the silk cotton tree are talking to me. We won’t take another husband from you. The ancestors don’t need him. Not now. Tully will survive. Momma Hazel will work her magic and take great care of him.
Mud is caked on my face, lodged in my throat, and weighs heavily on my chest.
“Come on, Vivian Jean, don’t give up,” I hear someone say, as powerful hands hold me up.
I push myself upward. Just one more push. My foot slips, but Othella holds on tightly. Damn, she’s strong, and she’ll need all her strength to pull me out of this hole. Othella keeps pulling, and before I know it, I’m on my stomach, dirt surrounding me.
“Are you okay?” Othella asks.
I grin, feeling like kissing the ground beneath her. “I’m great.”
“Good, now we need to hurry,” Othella says. “Zinzi is still down there.”