Latter-Day of the Dead (10 page)

“
Here
?”

“Yes,
here
,” I said while I pointed across the entire compound.

Verdell looked back to the rope. “Order shall be restored today.”

“It’s more than Benjamin; I can’t find the Harris family.”

“Where are they?” he asked.

“Obviously I don’t know if I can’t find them!” I snapped.

The men working on the oak tree all stopped and looked at me. The prophet stepped close and put his arm around me. “I would advise against your hostility, Elias. I am merely asking a question.”

I put my head down and stayed quiet, frustrated they were not responding with the urgency I had hoped.

Verdell kept his arm around me while he directed the other three, “Brothers, go check on Parley and his family.”

“That’s not a good idea,” I mumbled.

The prophet drew me in close and put his mouth to my ear, whispering, “I don’t remember when you became an advisor to the prophet. Are we taking orders from you now?”

I clenched my jaw and replied, “No, sir.”

“You look tired, Brother Elias. You should go get some rest.”

“I’m fine.”

He took his arm from around me and placed his hand firmly on my shoulder. “I wasn’t asking. Go get some rest.”

Although I felt like arguing I knew it would not matter. I looked into his ashen eye hoping he could see the seriousness on my face before stomping off.

“We will need your help with Brother Benjamin,” Verdell yelled as I headed away. “Meet us at the barn at 3:30.”

Knowing I would not be able to rest, I went to the medical station and grabbed one of my medical texts to try and figure out what could be wrong with Benjamin and Rodell, and most-likely Parley as well. My initial guess was that we were dealing with some sort of virus that Benjamin brought back to the compound. Saying it’s a virus is easy, but pinpointing what type would be near-difficult, as there are millions.

The problem that would present itself if we were dealing with a virus would be our ability to treat. Our station is basically stocked with various antibiotics, which would do nothing against a virus. Without treatment we could be looking at a potentially uncontrollable outbreak. Our best defense would be to keep Benjamin away from the rest of the population, which we were doing temporarily now, and more permanently this afternoon.

After reading through a few different case studies, I knew I needed a blood sample to make any concrete determinations. The prophet would surely have me prep the body for burial after the hanging, and I figured that would probably be the safest time to deal with Benjamin and draw some blood.

The afternoon came sooner than I was ready for. Most of our group was outside when I made my way to the barn. Multiple conversations were taking place, creating an amplified buzz in the air. There had never been something so provoking to happen here.

When I reached the barn Brother Kib was already there waiting, wearing a powder blue suit. I surveyed his outfit awkwardly, he looked back with embarrassment.

“Never been to no type of event like this, thought maybe we were s’posed to dress up,” he said running his hands down the sides of the sky-colored jacket.

“I think it is fine.”

“You were like the twentieth person that looked at me the way you did.”

Kib Cowdery was named after an early Jaredite King. He was one of our resident carpenters, helping to construct many of our homes. He had brown, lifeless hair that lied limp atop his pointy head and a protruding underbite that left his bottom teeth resting outside his upper lip. If I had to describe Kib in two words I would probably use:
carpenter
and
sheepdog
. We used to have a sheepdog on the compound that had the same underbite and mop-top hair as Kib.

“Have you checked on Benjamin?” I asked.

“I don’t feel like seeing one of our brothers caged like an animal.” He avoided eye contact, inspecting the sleeves of his suit while we spoke.

“He’s a danger to the group and himself. It was really our only choice,” I reasoned.

“Don’t get me wrong, Brother Elias, I will do what needs to be done. The prophet has asked me to help and I will oblige out of duty, but I won’t take no joy in none of this.”

“I don’t think any of us will.”

Kib stayed at the barn door, visibly bothered. I stepped inside, wanting to see what state Benjamin was in. There was a stale stench that was probably always in the barn, but my senses were on high alert and it was almost overwhelming.

I peeked through the wood slats to see Benjamin sprawled flat on his back, his head leaning the birdcage against the back corner of the stall. His body looked colorless and calcified, like a piece of petrified wood.

“Benjamin,” I called to him. I could see his eyes move, the only part of him that seemed to have any life.

His face contorted. He separated his dehydrated lips, with a layer of the upper ripping and remaining on his lower. A raspy hiss came form deep inside his desiccated throat. Even with being on the other side of the stall, the sound still made me step back.

The stiffened legs began to brush the hay he laid on from side-to-side as he struggled to get up. The birdcage banged against the wall in his fight for balance.

“Everything alright in there?” Kib shouted from the front.

“Yeah. No Problem.”

Once he made it to his feet, Benjamin stumbled to the front of the makeshift cell, making me step back again. He pressed the birdcage against two of the wood slats, his head struggling to the front of the cage. Unable to get any closer, he seethed; heavy saliva spattering onto his dried, torn lips.

Seeing he could not get any closer, I stepped towards him, but to the side. His inked eyes followed. I stared straight back, trying to make a connection.

“Are you in there, Benjamin?”

“What are you doing?” Verdell questioned as he stepped into the barn with Kib and a group of our brothers.

“Nothing. Just checking on him.”

“Are you doing nothing or are you checking on him?” Verdell quizzed.

I still didn’t know where this new contention was coming from. It sounded like he asked but did not want an answer so I did not respond.

“Brothers, we will escort Brother Benjamin out to the oak tree, I will address the congregation, then he will be put to death,” Verdell explained. “Brother Kib, you will be the hangman.”

“The hangman?” Kib repeated, hoping he heard it wrong.

“Yes. I do not foresee Brother Benjamin hanging himself, do you?”

“I’m no executioner,” Kib muttered.

“No, you are not,” Verdell agreed with disdain, “but you are a servant of God who will readily seek out God’s will. He has called you to do this in His name.”

After a long silence, Kib spoke, “If it is so, then it is so. I will follow God’s plan for me.”

“Your contribution to our flock will not be forgotten,” Verdell disclosed.

We all huddled around the barn stall, minus Verdell, who had left to prepare for the happening. Looking at each other for guidance, I stepped to the front and began yanking the additional boards that had been nailed up across the entrance of the stall. The others joined in somewhat begrudgingly, with everyone keeping their eyes on Benjamin.

He banged the birdcage against the wood plank we were attempting to remove. One of the brothers jumped away and refused to step back up.

“I’m sorry, brothers. I don’t think I can be part of this,” he said terrified as he left.

The rest of us regrouped and removed the remaining wooden restraints. With only the original swinging gate between us and Benjamin, we huddled together, nervous and wary. He was shifting his weight between his left and right feet; a hypnotic swaying that amplified our anxiousness.

“How you figure we fixin’ to get him out?” Kib posed to the group.

“Maybe we can just ask him to come with us?” one of the brothers threw out to break the elongated dead air.

They searched my face for approval to the simplified idea. I glanced at each of them before turning and creaking open the pen door. I requested apathetically, “Benjamin, could you come with us, please?”

He gave a short grunt and shuffled his feet across the hay-strewn barn floor towards us. Everyone looked pleased that Benjamin was willing to take the instruction. We were able to relax a little as he freely followed us to exit the barn. My mind turned somber, thinking about what we were leading our brother to.

chapter eight

W
alking out of the barn, most of us kept our heads down. I looked up to see Kib nervously tugging at his powder blue suit jacket. At this point I was just glad Verdell hadn’t assigned me hangman duties. It had to be weighing heavily on Kib’s conscience.

“HELLLP!” one of the brothers yelled from behind me. I turned to see him wrestling with Benjamin.

“Stop! Stop!” was all I could think to yell. We gathered around the scuffle, no one brave enough to jump in and break it up.

In no time flat Benjamin gained the upper hand, grabbing the fearful man by both shirt pockets.

“Benjamin, no!” I yelled, but his docility had passed.

I wouldn’t have believed the next part had I not seen it with my very own eyeballs. If I had to describe what happened in two words I would probably use:
uncanny
and
obscene
.

In a show of brute force that I have never seen or even heard of, Benjamin hurled the struggling man through the air. We watched in horror as our airborne brother landed on the high back hay bale spear attached to the nearby tractor.

The now-impaled brother let out a nightmarish roar. The spear had gone through his back and now sat poking out his abdomen like his body was the head of a thumbtack.

I found myself unable to breathe while I tried to yell to the other men to wrangle Benjamin. They tackled him facedown to the ground. Once he was down they pig-piled on to keep him there.

“Get his hands tied back up!” I screamed while running towards our punctured brother. He was no longer screaming. His mouth kept opening but no sound could escape. He looked down at his own blood that coated the thick black spear jutting out of his stomach.

I couldn’t tell if his continued mouth movement was an attempt to talk or breathe or both. His hands kept reaching towards the spear but he would never grab hold. Tears barreled out of his eyes, tumbling down his wincing, overwhelmed face.

As much as I wanted to help, I stood cowardly. Panic-stricken. The spectacle and tragedy over the last two days was catching up to me. I looked back to see brothers stills struggling to keep Benjamin grounded, and then to our pierced kin, whose head was now lowered and still except during attempts at short gasps of breath every so often. My ears shut off all sound. I could no longer hear the men screaming to gain control of Benjamin. I could no longer hear anything. I just stood there. Unpronounced. Inexpressible. Stunned and scared.

The ongoing bedlam had been loud enough to bring a crowd over from the church. Additional men scurried to the aid of those detaining Benjamin, restoring order. Still in a standing coma, I did not hear Verdell and my father calling to me. My father shook me to snap me out of my lethargy. I turned to him and could see he was trying to talk to me but still could not hear. My eyes welled-up before the sound finally came back.

“Elias, answer me!” my father hollered.

“Father,” was the only thing I could get out.

“Are you hurt?” he asked with Verdell listening in.

“I’m fine.”

“Get Benjamin to the oak tree immediately. No more delays. I will not tolerate the continued nonsense. Benjamin is to die forthwith. Everyone to the church,” the prophet demanded.

I tried to regroup while two brothers pulled the inane body off the hay bale spear. They made every effort to pull him off smoothly, but had to resort to forcible yanking to finally free him. There was nothing I could have done to save his life, yet I felt a tremendous guilt for just standing there while he died. At the very least I could have brought some peace to his final moments.

We all made our way to the church. I felt like everyone was looking at me directly as we waded through the crowd, only to realize I was walking next to Kib and his baby blue suit. It definitely stood out amongst the drab garb the rest of us donned. Some people gasped, not at Kib, but for some it was their first time seeing the bird-caged Benjamin.

Everyone gathered at the gnarled oak tree. I always found it to be such a beautiful sight, but now looking at it and knowing what it was about to be used for gave it a prophetic feel. Verdell had us escort Benjamin behind the church. My father brought the prophet a potato sack.

Verdell grabbed it before saying, “I do not want Benjamin’s head covered. I want people to see.”

Kib interjected, “But the executioner gets to cover his face, right? So no one knows it was me that put him to death?”