Ignited (7 page)

“No, we’ve no idea,” Dr. Pinkerton said, sighing. “There’s nothing strange happening, that we can see. At this point, we don’t even really know if the fog is to blame, although it still does seem like the most likely cause.”

Nothing strange? That was impossible. The
BBC
result was only on the records of those who had been the most dangerously ill—the people who were now exhibiting powers. His grandfather had to know something about it, otherwise how would he have known to look for such a result in the first place?

What was going on?

He couldn’t ask here. His mother would either turn the conversation away from him, or his grandfather would refuse to answer. Either way, nothing productive would happen.

“I think I ought to get going,” Henry said. “I feel a bit of a headache coming on.”

Dr. Pinkerton’s weathered face pinched into a frown. Over the years, the lines there had deepened, and his hair had gone from dark brown to a snowy white. But to Henry, he still looked just the same as he always had. It was strange to see a frown on a mouth so used to smiling.

“Would you like a ride home?”

“But Dad, I haven’t seen you since last week,” Louise broke in. She didn’t even turn to look at Henry. He hadn’t really expected her to.

“It’s fine. I’m fine. I’ll walk home and give you two some time to catch up, okay?”

Still frowning, Dr. Pinkerton nodded. “If you’re sure.”

“Good-bye, Henry,” his mother said, voice hurried in a way that implied she hoped he would match its pace.

“Goodnight,” Henry said. He backed out of the room and went through the front door out into the cool night air. He took a deep breath and filled his lungs, letting it out slowly. Walking alone at night always cleared his head, helped him to sort out his problems. As Henry’s best shoes crunched along the gravel on the shoulder of the road, it was clear what he needed to do.

He needed to figure out what was happening with the blood test results. The solution to that was easy enough: ask. Offer to help. Get involved. Maybe if he showed initiative, his grandfather would welcome him on to the project.

But more importantly, he needed to make sure Ruth Baker was okay. He knew his conversation with her had caused the incident he’d witnessed. He owed her an apology … and his help.

And if he just happened to think she was rather pretty and couldn’t stop picturing the way her hair ran wild down her back … well, it was no one’s business but his own.

CHAPTER SIX

Ruth

Arnold Johnson showed up at her door promptly at five o’clock. He was wearing a pressed button down shirt, with sweat already ringing under his armpits. Looking at him reminded Ruth how miserably hot it was outside, and how much she wished the burns on her arms would heal so she could finally have a bit of relief.

It felt like she was hot all the time now, like fire coursed in her veins. Spending her whole summer in cardigans was less than ideal, although her father had made a comment or two about appreciating her modesty. The benefits did not outweigh the cost, however.

Ruth opened the door with Edward hovering behind her, his hand on her shoulder. Arnold smiled when he saw them, revealing his uneven front teeth. “Evening,” he said, puffing up a bit. 

She’d never seen him dressed so neatly. The Johnsons owned a small, unhealthy patch of land on the far west end of town that they were always trying to farm. They had yet to have a speck of luck, but that hadn’t discouraged them. Ruth couldn’t remember seeing Arnold in anything but overalls and flannels, and she’d known him her entire life.

“Now you get her back home by nine, son.” Her father gave her a push forward, and she stumbled out onto the porch. Arnold offered her his arm, which she took automatically. Edward watched the exchange, but his expression was hard to read. He was frowning, but he didn’t look upset. Maybe he was thinking about her marriage again.

“Will do, Preacher,” Arnold replied, nodding a bit. He led Ruth down the front steps and across the scraggly lawn that was more dirt than grass. She thought he might drop her arm once they hit the road, but he kept it firmly looped in his own.

He smiled at her, not unkindly. Ruth felt a distant pang. Of all the men she could have ended up with, Arnold was by far the least offensive. It made her wish she cared for him more.

“Are you excited?” Arnold asked, a little hop in his step.

She shrugged. “I suppose.”

She was feeling more than a little trepidation about who she would see there: Would any of the powerful people dare to show up? And if so, what should she say? Her father thought they were demons, and even if he wasn’t right, whatever was going on wasn’t normal.
She
wasn’t normal. Not anymore.

Arnold place a hand on her arm and squeezed while giving his best snaggle-toothed smile. “It’s okay to be nervous, Ruth. We’re going to be with people who think like us, though. About those freaks with the powers, I mean.”

“Are we?” she asked. Her voice sounded distant in her own ears.

“Yeah, of course! This is all to help the people who lost stuff, you know. Even your dad might get something, since his car got destroyed. Everyone’s angry. The preacher is so smart, sending you and me to this thing. We might change a few minds, lead them into the fold.” His back was straight, his tone confident. 

Ruth had always felt indifferent toward Arnold, thought of him as an inevitable stop on the way into the future. Now, just looking at him made her want to cry.

She looked out into the distance as they walked, refusing to meet his eyes. If he looked too closely, he might see how upset she was, and she didn’t want him to ask questions.

Her heart had been so willful, lately, dreaming of things her father had never prescribed. If she had been better, then maybe ….

“Come on,” Arnold said, interrupting her thoughts. He tugged on her arm excitedly. “We’re here.”

The old church loomed large in front of Ruth. She’d passed it more times than she could count, but she had never been inside. The stone façade was built high to a single tower that looked out over the town, and the front doors were enormous, made from intricately carved wood. It seemed ornate, after being practically raised inside the shack on the back of her father’s property. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to go inside this big stone building every Sunday, with its archways and finery.

Ruth was so caught up in looking that she nearly missed the person standing at the top of the steps: June.

“Ruth!” June came flouncing toward her. Her dressed bounced with her as she moved between the clumps of people standing and chatting in front of the church. She grinned at Ruth and completely ignored Arnold’s existence. “You came! I was so hoping. We haven’t had a chance to talk since ….”

Arnold stepped between them, glaring at June. “Get away from us. You’re one of
them
.”

A look of hurt flitted across June’s face. But she didn’t cower. She balled her hands into fists and stood her ground, and when she met Arnold’s eyes, her gaze was cool. “Excuse me, Arnold,” she said, keeping her voice even. “I wasn’t speaking to you.”

“And you’re not
allowed
to speak to her. I don’t even know why you’re allowed here at all.”

The June Ruth had known in their childhood would have smiled and backed down. But this June was someone else entirely. “I’m a member of this church,” she said, poking her chin toward Arnold’s face. Her voice was icy. “And I am allowed to speak to Ruth if I want to.”

“Arnold, it’s fine,” Ruth started. He whipped around to look at her, mouth agape, and she knew she’d made a mistake.

Did she backtrack, say she didn’t mean it? How could she do that to June, who for so many years was the only person who had been kind? The last time they’d seen each other, June had told Ruth that they would go to the soda fountain and get dessert. Ruth still wanted to go.

She hesitated, trying to find the right words to say, but her mouth was empty.

Arnold gave her a stern look. Scolding. It reminded Ruth of her father.

“Remember, Ruth, this isn’t your friend anymore. She’s been taken over by a demon. Her soul is lost.” He kept his voice low and urgent, staring at her imploringly.

You really believe that
, she thought.
You really do
.

It was a shock to her system. She felt frozen in place, barely able to breathe. Her mind was racing, a thousand thoughts per moment—she had known Arnold her whole life. How could he really think that about June, about
her …
?

June’s anger had melted away, replaced with a look of absolute hurt. Her mouth fell open in surprise, and when her eyes darted to Ruth’s, there was pain there.

“Ruthie, you can’t possibly—”

“Of
course
she can. She’s not some demon-loving sinner, like
some
people in this—”

The words burst out of Ruth before she could stop them. “That’s enough, Arnold!”

The three of them went quiet, and the conversations around them hushed, as well.

“What did you just say to me?” Arnold hissed. He grabbed Ruth by the wrist, not hard, but with enough force to pull her away. Ruth felt herself get hotter and hotter, and she ripped her arm away, taking deep breaths as she did. Her heart rate slowed, her blood cooled.

All around them, eyes were still on her.

“We’re not here to start any trouble,” she reminded him, trying to sound gentle instead of panicked. “We’re here to help.”

“
And
to get people on our side.”

She swallowed the fear rising up her throat. “Yes, but if we start to scare people, no one is going to listen to us. They’ll be too upset. We’re here to do good, right? So let’s do some good, set an example.”

He frowned. “I don’t know ….”

“Please, Arnold?”

She watched the indecision roll around on his face, and then, eventually, he nodded. Relief swept through Ruth. She touched his hand, ever so gently. “Thank you,” she breathed out. She risked a glance at June, trying to apologize using nothing but her eyes. June seemed to understand, nodding slightly. As Arnold took Ruth’s arm again and began to ascend the steps, June reached out and brushed her arm. 

Ruth got the message:
I understand. I’m still here
.

The guilt made Ruth feel like she was walking through water, every step a challenge. Arnold seemed to have forgiven her previous transgression, chatting jovially as they walked into the main room. There were tables pushed up against all the walls, cardboard boxes littering them and the floor. Canned goods and clothes were thrown about the room. In one corner, a tall man spoke out to a large group.

“All right, everyone,” he said to those gathered around him. “The rejuvenation project is going to begin at the fountain. We’re going to clean up the debris, plant some new flowers, reseed the grass, fix the holes in the ground. Does everyone know which group they’re in?”

There were nods from everyone.

“Sounds great. Let’s go!”

The men pushed past the pair of them, heading back down the hallway that would lead them to the front stoop. Ruth turned to watch them go, and saw June entering just as they were leaving. One man—it looked like Bo Erikson, the man she’d seen hanging around her father’s church lately—knocked his shoulder into June. She hit the wall with a thud.

She didn’t even look shocked, just jutted out her chin and kept walking as if they had never touched her at all.

“Come on, Ruth,” Arnold said, tugging her forward.

They walked to the nearest table, where a few ladies were sitting around with clipboards. Ruth only vaguely recognized them—she was pretty sure they worked at the local doctor’s office. Briar Steele hovered over their shoulders. 

Arnold looked stiff and uncomfortable as he approached them. He turned his nose up so he could looked down on them as he spoke. “Excuse me.” He sounded more imperious than Ruth ever heard. She felt herself blushing as people turned their way. She felt so
hot
. “We’re representatives from the Lamb of God church, and we’re here to—”

Briar popped up, stepping in front of the lady behind the table. “Don’t worry about this, Aunt Patrice. I know exactly where these two need to go.”

The woman, Patrice, raised a brow, but she nodded. “If you’re sure, Briar.” She motioned the three of them away. “Take them where they’re needed and then head back here, all right? You’re supposed to stick around the check-in table.”

Briar rolled her eyes, but she nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” She turned to the pair of them. “Come on, Ruth, and—”

“Arnold,” he supplied.

“Arthur. I’ll show you two what to do.”

Briar led Ruth and Arnold to the far end of the room, and then stopped abruptly. She whirled around to look at them.

“Archie,” she said, staring straight at Arnold. “I think you’ll probably be most useful outside, with the other men. They’re doing some work around the statue and—”

“I am not going to work on that idol,” Arnold spat. He took a step closer to Ruth and threw his sweaty arm around her shoulder. It was more contact than they’d ever really had before. Ruth wanted to move away from him, but she was afraid he would only try harder to keep her in place if she did. “I want to stay here, with Ruth.”

“Well, unfortunately, this is not all about you or what you want.” Briar held his gaze, not at all intimidated. Her direct stare made him shift on his feet and glance away. “Look, we didn’t get a lot of male volunteers, and this is for the town. If you don’t want to work on the fountain or the statue, you’re more than welcome to help out with the landscaping. We had some materials donated by the Sokolovs—”

Arnold blanched. “The
Soviets
? What kind of fundraiser are you running, anyway?”

“The kind that helps people of this town and doesn’t discriminate about who is offering that help.” Briar’s voice was brutally reasonable. “You can help with re-paving some of the road that was torn up, if that makes you feel better. We need that from you. And we need Ruth down here. Okay?”