Decoration Day (5 page)

“The town fought the Union army?”

“Not the whole thing, but a few platoons. We had enough guns to arm every man in town. We even had a cannon. It was mostly for celebratory activities and was very ornate, but it still fired.”

“Is it in the memorial park?”

“Thomas brought you around that way just as I asked. How good of him. He isn’t always the most obedient servant. The battle occurred all over the hills, but the fiercest of the action was located at the church. Many people lost their lives, but we beat the bluecoats back.”

“How?”

“When your way of life is in danger, you will do anything. Our ancestors helped us as they still do today. That is why we have a homecoming every third Sunday of this month. That was the day of the battle and our victory.”

“Do you think it is strange that I suggested having a decoration day on the exact same day?” David asked. That had been bothering him since yesterday.

“Not particularly. I probably mentioned something about it the night you arrived. I believe the dream you had last night was a memory of the battle. Great traumas leave scars not only on the skin but also on the energy of the world. I believe that our church is one of those places where the veil is very thin, if not torn. I also believe that one of the great ancient mysteries watches over the place.”

“I would have never guessed the place had been the focal point of a battle. There isn’t any sign. Is it the original building?”

Marsh nodded. “That is the building our forefathers built when they settled this valley. If you examine the exterior walls well, you will find pockmarks from bullets. I can even show you a hole in the wall surrounding the grounds caused by a cannonball.”

“Amazing. There is so much history here. Maybe that is why I’m having the nightmares. Like you said, negative energy.”

“I believe so.” Marsh looked at his watch. “It is time to eat. Let’s retire to the dining room.”

There was just enough space in the bureau for David to fit his nice clothes inside. After lunch with Marsh, he’d spent the day putting away some of his personal belongings and making the apartment more livable. He wanted to avoid more nightmares, and brightening up the place might help him. Once everything was tidied up, he went for a walk in the churchyard. Some yellow wildflowers growing on the side of the hill opposite the backyard had caught his eye while he was unloading most of his car. They would definitely help liven up his cell, a little bit of the outdoors in the oppressively bleak room.

David tried to avoid thinking of his apartment as bleak, but the longer he stayed in there, the heavier and heavier it became. As he walked among the crooked headstones, he spied the flowers again. The round blooms stuck up from the dark grass like little balls of sunshine. The actual sun had disappeared into the clouds not long after he returned from Marsh’s house. Now the sky darkened more because twilight neared. He walked to the back wall of the churchyard. An almost perfectly round hole hung midway up the wall. It had to be the cannonball hole Marsh spoke of.

David climbed onto the wall and jumped off on the back side. The ground sloped sharply upward. The damp grass and moss made climbing to the flowers difficult. After a few slips and slides, he picked a small bouquet of the wildflowers. They smelled as good as they looked. The musty aroma of his room would benefit from their perfume. He turned to head back to the wall. The first step sent his feet out from under him. David toppled down the hill. His head hit a rock outcropping. Everything went dark for a moment. He felt himself come to rest against the wall before his vision recovered.

As his vision regained full strength, he felt his head. A small amount of blood ran down his forehead from a cut. The bright, cheerful bouquet lay strewn down the hill. He wanted the flowers very much but didn’t want to risk falling again and possibly killing himself. The wall seemed higher than before. He reached to pull himself over, but dizziness overcame him. Walking around the wall would be necessary.
 

He glanced through the hole in the wall to make sure the gate at the other side was open. It stood ajar. He had started to move around the wall when something in the church caught his eye. Purple light moved from window to window like someone carrying a candle. The slow ache rising in his head told him that he wasn’t dreaming or in a delirium. Someone was there. He ran, despite the dizziness and aching head, to the gate. David leaned against it to steady himself.

The light still moved in the building. He steeled himself and charged to the church door. The small vestibule was dark. Only a faint glow of violet light could be seen. David stormed into the sanctuary. No one was there. The glow floated at the front of the room, over the pit. It looked like a flame. He ran down the aisle toward it. The flame pulsed brighter, then dimmer. He mounted the stage before the podium and reached out toward it. The flame snuffed out, leaving him standing in the dark. David fell to his knees and cried.

A thin twinge of pain creased David’s face. He blinked awake and looked around the room through sleep-glazed vision. Ebenezer Hollingsworth closed a black leather bag. He took a wet rag and wiped it over David’s head.

“You had a nasty fall,” Ebenezer said. “What happened?”

David tried to prop up on his elbows. The other man pushed him back down and shook his head. The ceiling above him looked very familiar. He was back in the bedroom he’d been given at Marsh’s house on the lumpy bed with the springs poking him in the exact same places as before.
 

“I don’t know,” David said. “How did I get here?”

“You drove yourself,” Marsh said from behind him.

David tried to look back, but Ebenezer clucked his tongue at him. “Stay still. You probably have a concussion, and the last thing you need is to further agitate it.”

“How did you hit your head?” Marsh walked into his line of vision. “All I know is that you banged on my door and pushed your way in. Blood streaked your face, and you ranted about a purple flame and wildflowers before you fainted.”

Foggy memories floated in his head. He supposed it was the concussion. Images tumbled over themselves as he probed to remember. Feelings of fear and deep disappointment seemed to dominate his thoughts more than any particular image or memory.

“Are you a doctor?” he asked Ebenezer.

“Yes, but I would like to know how you hit your head.”

David had asked the question to bide time until he found the proper memory. Both Marsh and Ebenezer stared at him. Their looks scrutinized his very soul. The look in their eyes seemed accusatory. No, that wasn’t it; more like disappointment. For the life of him he couldn’t figure out two things: exactly what had happened and why they would be disappointed by it.

“I can’t remember.”

The look of disappointment on Marsh’s face grew deeper, but Ebenezer put his hand on David’s shoulder.

“Can you remember anything? The smallest amount of information can be helpful.”

“I remember joy, then worry. After that panic,” David said.

“That doesn’t help very much,” Marsh said. “Those are just feelings. What happened?”

“Please, let me handle this, Alistair,” Ebenezer waved his hand. “David, what made you feel that way? Something had to cause those emotions to be so strong that you remember them through your amnesiac state.”

“I climbed the hill behind the church to pick wildflowers,” David strained at his memory. It felt like a tight string being pulled in his mind. “I fell on my way back down because the slope was slippery.”

“Can you not remember anything clearer than that?” Ebenezer asked. Irritability tinged his words.

David couldn’t figure out why the doctor was so frustrated. He tried as hard as he could. The knock to his head obviously had addled his brain. Ebenezer needed to work on his bedside manner.

“Can I try something?” Marsh asked.

The question seemed to be directed to both of them. They said yes together. David really didn’t know why he wanted to know what he couldn’t remember. He needed the solace of knowing what caused such strong emotions.

Marsh reached into his pocket and brought out a marble. He blew on it and polished it on his sleeve. Another look satisfied him. He slid around so that David looked directly at him.

“I’m going to hypnotize you,” he said. “Have you ever been hypnotized before?”

“No. I don’t believe in that nonsense. It’s just a bunch of hoodoo.”

“Look into the glass ball,” Marsh said. “What do you see?”

“A marble.”

“Look beyond that, deep into the glass.”

David stared at the small sphere. Smoky colors hung in the glass. They started to shift and move as he stared deeply into it. He felt his mind begin to loosen up as the rest of his body relaxed as if wrapped in the warmth of that smoke. He was flooded with memories. Not only did he remember how he hit his head, but he also remembered the painting of Marsh from the nightmare. The portrait gained new clarity. A whole army of the nightmare toad people stood behind Marsh. Fire burned behind that. The glow of it bordered the ridge. A ragged old American flag draped a body broken over the ornate cannon from the memorial park.

“Do you hear me?” Marsh asked from a thousand miles above David.

“Yes.”

“What do you remember about hitting your head?”

“I fell because I slipped on the wet moss and hit my head on a rock. I saw the purple light like a candle glowing in the church. I rushed to find out who was carrying it around the sanctuary.”

“Do you mean the purple light you have been seeing in your nightmares?”

“You are being flanked by an army of frogmen. A Union soldier is dead, draped in his flag. It’s the painting from the third floor room where the purple glow came from,” David said. “You look like you’ve never aged.”

“What did you see when you went into the church after hitting your head?” Marsh redirected.

“A purple flame hung over that bottomless pit thing. It snuffed out.”

Before Marsh could say anything else, the images before David’s eyes changed. The smoke reappeared, but it pulsed with light, lavender light. It engulfed him. He struggled for breath as the light began to fill up his lungs and drown him.

“I’m drowning in the light. Help me,” David yelled. “Anna, help me.”

“He’s seizing,” Ebenezer said somewhere high above him. “Pull him back.”

“Listen to my words, David,” Marsh said. “Quit staring into the glass sphere. Let your mind surface and see me and Ebenezer.”

“I can’t. I’m drowning in the light.”

An unseen hand slapped David on the cheek. The force of the blow ground his cheek into his teeth. The tinny taste of blood filled his mouth. The violet light dissipated, and he looked at Marsh and Ebenezer.

The doctor dug into his bag and brought out a small vial of liquid. He uncorked it and handed it to David. “Drink this.”

“Why?”

“It will help you feel better. That elixir helps restore memory after a concussion.”

“I didn’t know there was a medicine for that.” David looked at the dark red liquid.

“Not ordinary medicine, but I make some of my own. It will work. I guarantee it.”

David didn’t trust Ebenezer, but he didn’t like the way he felt either. Everything swam around, and nothing seemed real. He swallowed the whole concoction. It tasted like red wine laced with berries. He didn’t expect it to work.

“I am going to walk Ebenezer out, David,” Marsh said, returning the marble to his pocket. “You will stay here tonight so that I can make sure you will be okay.”

“I should really get back to the church. I need to work on my sermon.”

“Nonsense. You need rest,” Marsh said.

“He’s right. Plus, you might have some complications from the concussion. There isn’t a phone at the church, and you could need me,” Ebenezer said. “The best thing is to rest.”

“I’ve got a cell phone,” David said.

“We get horrible signal here,” Ebenezer answered

The two men walked out of the parlor. David settled back on the sofa. The room felt a bit stuffy. A wave of dizziness hit him when he stood to walk to the windows and open them for air. He staggered mid-room when he heard the two men talking on the other side of the door.

“Why do you think the light is affecting him so much?” Ebenezer asked. “Do you think he might bolt before Sunday?”

“I don’t. I believe the light affects him more because he is the real one. After so many years, I believe that we have found the
one
,” Marsh said.

“I think he’ll be crazy by Thursday evening.”

“Why does that matter? He has talked about
God
giving him a calling to be here. The call is so strong that it has given him back some faith. He is the one; otherwise, the light wouldn’t affect him this much. Most of the others have never even seen it.”

“I hope so. I tire of this routine every year.”

“I’m glad the other preacher canceled on us. I see wonderful things in our future.” Marsh sounded pleased. “What did you give him?”

“A sleeping dram. It’s so strong I don’t think even the light will affect him.” Ebenezer laughed.