Latter-Day of the Dead (7 page)

“Why would he do that to me, Doc?” Parley wondered dejectedly.

“I’m not sure, Brother Parley. Let’s get you over to my office and get you cleaned up.”

Two of the men got on each side of Parley and helped him up. Verdell finally made it over as we began to head up.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Benjamin attacked Brother Parley,” I explained. “Bit him pretty good and then disappeared.”

Verdell stepped in and inspected the damage, before speaking to the group of men, which was now growing in number.

“Brothers, Benjamin has fallen prey to the wicked ways of the Devil. He must be brought in. He is to be publicly abolished from our righteous group. Bring him to me.”

The men dispersed with their orders. A few of them headed to Benjamin’s house, while others spread out throughout the compound.

“Stay strong, Brother Parley,” Verdell ordered. He looked at me and added, “We will not allow such evil to infect our flock.”

I nodded as we headed to the medical station. On our walk up I could feel the eyes of each family as we passed houses. Some were standing on their porches, some peeking through the windows of their homes. Things like this never happened on the compound, so there was a natural curiosity and fear. Things like this were why so many people came to this way of living; we were supposed to be sheltered from the evils of the outside world.

chapter five

I
brought Parley into the medical station to tend to his still-bleeding wound. The excess blood was sopped up by the cotton cloths I handed to Parley as I grabbed some alcohol to disinfect. He recoiled when I began to clean the area.

Parley Harris was named after one of the original leaders of the Latter Day Saint movement, Parley Pratt. Parley Pratt had twelve wives, his choice of wife number twelve ultimately causing his death. Eleanor McLean was already married to another man when she was wooed away by Pratt. Her legal husband, Hector McLean, eventually tracked down Parley Pratt, shooting and stabbing him.

We are forbidden to follow the corrupt system of American politics, but off the compound it is rumored that Parley Pratt’s great-great grandson was trying to become President of the United States or something. That’s really all I know about that.

Our Parley, Parley Harris, was an abnormally skinny, older man with thinning brown hair. If I had to describe Parley in two words I would probably use:
enlarged
and
cranium
.

I don’t know if it was so much how large the size of his head was as it was just in comparison to his small, slender body. His head was always swaying side-to-side, and I couldn’t help but assume it was his neck struggling to keep his thinker from toppling over.

The stark contrast to the physical size of his cranium was evident in the mental capacity. I would put him at about a second-grade level of intelligence. Our congregation was much smaller before Parley was born, so with limited options he was born to Ivern and Elin Harris, brother and sister. The fumarase deficiency obstructed most of his mental development.

I grabbed one of my medical texts and flipped it open, although I wasn’t sure what I needed to look for. My honest opinion was that Benjamin looked possessed when we made eye contact, but I knew I wouldn’t be finding how to treat possession in my text. There had to be a medical explanation.

“What do it say?” Parley asked some time later, pulling me from my book and back to the real world. He was still holding a bunched-up cloth against his shoulder.

“What
does
it say, Parley,” I corrected.

“How am I s’posed to know? I asked you first.”

“Okay, Parley.” I put down the book and bandaged his shoulder, deciding now wasn’t the best time for grammar lessons.

I walked Parley out front and gave him two pills for the discomfort. I instructed him to come see me when he needed more instead of giving him a full prescription and trusting he would be able to retain the instructions.

It was dark and quiet outside. It was always dark and quiet this time of night, but there was an unsettling eeriness now accompanying the sedated backdrop. Parley shuffled off towards his house, head wobbling with each step. I probably should have spent more time tending to his injury, but my mind was both confounded and intrigued by Benjamin. If any one found him I had to know.

The best option I could think of was to head towards Benjamin’s house. My brisk walk turned into a hotfooted run at the sound of a distressing howl.

The front door was wide open, spilling light out into the darkness. I slowed my approach now that I could confirm the screaming was coming from inside. I tiptoed onto the porch, drawing near the audible commotion. A couple different voices were yelling, making it even more difficult to decipher what was happening without going in. Standing flush with the house next to the open entrance, I slowly leaned my head in and nearly collided with someone rushing out at the exact same time.

“Gee whiz!” I shouted, falling on my behind. The person who shot out the door had stumbled down the porch and rolled to a stop in the dusty road, out of range of the light from the house.

I stood up and dusted my bottom off, peering down before hesitantly asking, “Benjamin?”

“Doc Elias!” the crumpled heap of man shrieked.

I couldn’t pinpoint the voice immediately but knew it wasn’t Benjamin. I hopped off the porch, foregoing the steps to save time. He reached out his hand, which I initially thought he was doing to be helped up. I had to squint through the nightfall to see what he was showing me.

“Whoa. Whoa. Whoa! What happened?!” Dropping to my knees I was able to give closer inspection.

There was only a scanty piece of his small metacarpal sticking out where his pinky finger was supposed to be. Blood was flowing up over the jutted-out bone before flowing down his outstretched arm, continually re-exposing the jagged white cartilage.

“Benjamin done crunched my finger off!” the man who I now knew was Brother Rodell agonized.

My flannel was removed and I strained to rip a strip of the fabric to bandage Rodell’s hand with. He cringed as I tightly wrapped his four-digit hand.

“Alright you need to keep pressure on it. Let’s get you to the medical station.”

“Before we go, Elias, could you do something?” Brother Rodell panted.

“Sure. What do you need?”

“Could you go ask Benjamin for my finger back?”

“Uhhh….” I looked at the still-open doorway.

“I really would like to have it back, if possible.”

“We might not be able to attach it, Brother Rodell,” I explained.

“Well,” he started, looking at his mutilated hand, “I would be much obliged if you tried.”

Taking a deep breath, I stood, silhouetted by the framed illumination from inside.

The house seemed untroubled as I made my way in. Two of the other men who had been sent by Verdell to get Benjamin were still inside. They were both standing tentatively at the front end of the hallway.

“Is he in here?” I asked, still not stepping too far into the house. They both nodded nervously in concert.

“Did you see what he did to Brother Rodell?” one of them asked me.

“Yes. He’s okay. Where’s Benjamin?”

Both of them took a step back and laggardly raised their fingers pointing down the narrow hallway.

“Is he in one of the bedrooms?” I asked as I drew near the hallway.

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

He was standing dead center at the far end of the hall, apoplectic. His face was darkened from his pitch black eyes and the shading of dried blood, presumably Rodell’s. A shiver ran up my spine upon eye contact.

“Benjamin?” I asked, feeling the blood rush away from my face. No response, verbal or physical. If I had to describe staring down that hallway in two words I would probably use:
extra
and
creepy
.

There was a small table with a lamp Benjamin lingered directly in front of, casting light all around him but making his figure even darker and harder to see. I could feel the nervousness of the men behind me as I took a step into the hallway.

“Brother Benjamin, are you alright?” was asked to no reply.

Knowing I wasn’t brave enough to approach any further, I turned back to the two men, who had been joined by two others willing to help. My movement was swift towards the four uneasy helpers. Their eyes almost doubled in size while I explained that I wanted to go grab some sedation for Benjamin. I quickly realized that their reaction was not directed towards what I was saying.

They all took steps back simultaneously. I spun around only in time to brace for the charging Benjamin. He crashed into me full speed and we both fell to the floor. My back was pinned to the ground with Benjamin directly on top of me. He looked down and let out a screech like nothing I had ever heard. One of the men that had just joined the group to help ran out of the house at the sound of the high-pitched yell.

My flinched-shut eyes opened when the scream stopped, just in time to see Benjamin’s head lunging viciously towards mine. I threw my left forearm into his forehead to stop his momentum and used my right hand to grab the left side of his oncoming jaw. His mouth was gaped open, his rotted kid-teeth leading his push proceeding to my face. I struggled to keep space between his face and mine. He was exhaling savagely, sounding like a cornered raccoon.

“Get him off me!” I shouted to the general direction of the bystanders. Even though I had more pressing issues at that specific moment, I was still irritated that my brethren would just sit back and allow me to be attacked.

My complaint knocked them out of their frozen shock. Two of the men, each grabbing one of Benjamin’s arms, strained to pull him off. Even as his body was slowly being culled away from mine his head continued to plunge towards me in rapid succession. Feeling a little bit safer, I stared at a clearly bedeviled Benjamin. There was no cognitive response. There was no…Benjamin.

Once they had enough leverage the two men were able to throw Benjamin off of me, but chose the ill-advised direction of our third helper, Brother Andy. Benjamin and his new attention-getter both toppled over the wooden coffee table in the living room. The table collapsed into pieces upon impact.

“Benjamin, get off him!” I yelled while picking myself up, already knowing it would do no good.

“Noooo!” yelled the now-defenseless Andy. We could only see his legs underneath the straddling Benjamin; they kicked and thrashed feverishly.

The other two and I pounced on Benjamin, knocking him against the base of the couch, sitting upright. We momentarily paused at the sight of all the blood running from Benjamin’s mouth. He smacked his lips and placed his upper teeth over his lower lip, scraping more of the blood into his mouth with animalistic fervor.

“Keep him there!” I ordered the other two without knowing exactly how they would be able to.

They grabbed the slab of wood that was the broken tabletop and pinned Benjamin against the couch with it. He wasn’t putting up much of a struggle, seeming somewhat content, still smacking his lips.

I watched for a moment to make sure we were safe before routing my attention to our injured brother, Andy. My concern grew when I saw that it was his neck that suffered the attack. He was struggling to breathe and was massively bleeding. I pressed through the pooling blood to find the pressure point between the Adam’s apple and neck muscle to attempt to stop the bleeding. With how badly he was bleeding I assumed Benjamin had bit all the way through the carotid artery, possibly the jugular vein as well. The carotid artery and jugular vein are what supply blood to the brain.

After a brief point in time it was obvious I could not stop the bleeding. I leaned back and looked him in the eyes, saying, “You have lived an obedient life, the Celestial Kingdom awaits you. The light and truth you have yearned for is now yours. Go without fear. Go with a full heart. Pass through the veil, Brother Andy, eternity is yours.”

He looked at me, gasping at short, intermittent breaths, before looking up to the ceiling. His eyes remained gazing up after his breathing stopped.

I said a silent prayer before closing his stalled eyes. My awareness kicked back in, turning to the still-pinned Benjamin. He was beginning to fight the confinement a little more aggressively.

“What are we going to do with him?” one of the men pressing against the tabletop asked.

“We need to take him to the prophet,” I explained with again no plan on how that would happen.

“He’s just going to try to bite us.”

“I know,” I acknowledged, “give me a second.”

My jeans were soaked in Andy’s blood from continually wiping my saturated hands. I headed into the kitchen, trying to find something to use to effectively protect everyone from Benjamin. Most of the cupboards and cabinets were bare, but I was able to find some duct tape.

Back in the living room I stretched out a long piece of duct tape and bit down to remove it from the rest of the roll. I made it extra long so my fingers could be as far away from Benjamin’s yellow and now red-stained teeth as possible. He gnashed his mess of a mouth at me and I could see the gap where the tooth that ended up in Parley’s shoulder used to be.