Latter-Day of the Dead (8 page)

It seemed safer to apply from behind, so I stepped to the rear of the couch. Benjamin struggled to push the tabletop off him. His head swiveled side-to-side trying to see what I was doing. I reached over his head and sloppily strapped the tape over his mouth. His mouth was open when I applied the adhesive so his upper and lower teeth hung outside the tape. He bit down, folding the duct tape in half, but it was still bound pretty securely.

“Alright, we need to get his hands, too.”

All three of us grabbed him before letting go of the tabletop and pushing him facedown onto the ground. We toiled with his flailing arms for a minute before securing them behind his back and taping them together at the wrist.

We all stepped back and looked at each other, not confident enough that the tape would be adequate.

“Okay, don’t let him move. I’ll find something else.”

I scrounged through the rest of the house trying to find something we could use. Before giving up I found something on the back porch that would work. I opened the sliding-glass door and snagged the item off its hook. It was rusted, making it difficult to remove the base. My open palm smacked the dusty red bottom until it broke free.

“We’ll use this,” I justified after stepping back into the house.

“Really?”

“Would you rather chance gettin’ bit?”

“Well, no.”

“Grab the duct tape,” I ordered.

Benjamin snarled as I skillfully approached. There was really no way to tell where the blood from his bleeding gums ended and the blood that previously belonged to his brethren began. It dripped over the collapsed duct tape clamped between his chops.

Once again the best plan of attack was to advance from behind. The other two used the table piece again to keep Benjamin as still as possible, which really wasn’t that still at all. He struggled and whipped his head violently. I lifted the rusted item directly over him and looked for acknowledgment from my helpers that they were ready. After a quick nod I dropped what would otherwise be junk over his unwelcoming skull.

My two collaborators duct-taped the scrap to Benjamin in short order. They wrapped it around his shoulders and torso a few extra times to make sure the oxidized container would under no circumstance come off. We all stepped back, not knowing what to do next.

“Brother Elias,” one of the men said under his breath.

“Yeah?” I replied.

“The prophet is here,” he explained with a slight bow to the door.

“What on Earth?” Verdell gasped, still unsure if he should step all the way into the house.

“Benjamin is a succumber!” one of the men shouted excitedly at the prophet. “The Devil’s got him!”

“It’s true, sir,” the other chimed in. “He done killed one of our own.”

The two stepped aside to reveal the lifeless body lying on the floor. Verdell pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and placed it over his nose and mouth before reaching the body. He knelt down and closed his eyes, saying a silent prayer.

“Benjamin did this?” he asked without really asking. A disappointing glance was thrown at Benjamin, but Verdell had trouble looking at him any longer than that. I could tell that the prophet was at a loss for what to do as well.

Brethren of the Last Days believed in blood atonement as a core piece of fundamental doctrine, originated during Brigham Young’s leadership of the church. While we believed it in principle, we had never had anything happen on the compound to warrant such penalty. The doctrine defines the act of murder as so flagrant that penance from Jesus does not qualify. Since such individuals have no chance at salvation, they are to be sacrificed as a last attempt to avoid eternal torment.

Verdell stood in thought before he said, “Okay. You guys done good. Who knows how much more damage to our flock could have been done if not for you brave souls. Our brother did not die in vain, he is a hero. Bless you all.”

After assuming he was finished, he added, “With that said, we mustn’t worry the others. Is having that on his head really necessary?”

The three of us nodded up-and-down vehemently.

“Very well then. We can keep him confined in one of the horse stalls until I know what we need to do. I will ask the Lord for guidance to help us through these tragic times.”

One of the men looked relieved that Verdell would be reaching out to the Almighty, saying, “Oh, thank you, prophet.”

“Let’s get Benjamin to the barn,” I urged.

Surprisingly, Benjamin did not resist when we brought him to his feet. Most of the town had gathered outside by the time we made it out to the porch. Looks of shock and concern could be seen through the shadowed darkness. The crowd parted to give us the room we needed to make it through.

“Dad, why is Benjamin wearing a birdcage on his head?” one of the boys in the drove asked, pointing towards the withered, duct-taped birdcage we had assigned to his head for protection.

It had to be quite a sight; a monstrous scene. We walked a bloodied Benjamin through the town, bound hands and caged head. Audible gasps matched the astounded faces. Some mothers turned their children away as we got near.

“Hey!” Brother Rodell pushed through a few folks to get to me. He was pale and sweating heavily, eyes slightly dilated. “Did you find my finger, Doc Elias?”

“I didn’t really get a chance to look, Brother Rodell.”

“Oh, dag. I would really like to have it back.”

“I know, Rodell.”

Verdell followed loosely behind us, stopping frequently to put the onlookers at ease. It had to be easier at this point because many of them were unaware that the dead body of one of our own lay inside the house. I kept glancing into the birdcage, trying to find some sort of recognition in Benjamin’s eyes to no avail. They were unaffected and soulless.

We were almost to the barn when Verdell caught up to us. He stepped marginally ahead of us to get a better look at Benjamin.

“What’s wrong with him?” he asked me.

“I’m not sure.”

“Does it have something to do with his visit to you?”

“I can’t be certain, but he was exhibiting some strange symptoms.”

“Why did he come in?”

I figured at this point there was no sense in keeping Benjamin’s secret, saying, “He was bit.”

“Bit? Like a spider bite?”

“Sir, I believe he was bit by an outsider.”

Verdell bounced in front of Benjamin, stopping all of us. He grabbed a handful of Benjamin’s blood-dampened shirt and yelled, “DAMNIT, BENJAMIN!”

The other brothers and I were startled by such vulgarity. I had never seen him so angered.

That anger briskly rolled to me when he said, “Why would you not bring this to my attention?!”

“I don’t know,” slowly crept out of my somber mouth.

His peevishness volleyed back to Benjamin. He yanked the birdcage and pulled it close to his good eye. “Do you realize what you have done?”

Benjamin hissed and snapped his slipshod mouth towards Verdell’s hand. Verdell pushed the birdcage away, bewildered by the disrespect.

“Lock him up,” he directed.

We walked Benjamin into the barn and placed him in an empty horse stall. It took a while to properly board up the entrance to make sure he would not be able to escape.

While watching us do all the work, a calmer Verdell asked, “But why would being bit make him act this way?”

“Like I said, I can’t be sure they are related, but when I look at those eyes I don’t see Benjamin.”

“We have never had something so egregious happen here, it cannot go unpunished. Our people must know that any attempt the Devil makes to sneak evil into our multitude will be met with a heavy hand of the godlike. Our faith is uncompromised, and flagrant acts of sinners will be dealt with accordingly.” Verdell looked into each one of our eyes to make sure his message was clear. I may have seen it wrong, but it appeared like Verdell was struggling to hide a meager smile that was trying to fight its way onto his face.

Verdell headed to the barn entrance, leaving us to finish up. He asked, “…and I trust you will properly tend to the body at the house?”

“Yes, sir,” I answered.

chapter six

F
atigued from the night’s events, I took my time gradually ascending back up to Benjamin’s house to remove the departed. It had become considerably colder outside. I could feel it most on the bare arm whose flannel sleeve had been ripped off and used to bandage Rodell’s chewed-on hand. I was all sorts of mess. The sweat and grime from getting Benjamin penned-up commingled with my blood-stained coating to create thick, brown muck smeared across my face, exposed arm and hands.

My feet straggled up the dusty way back to the scene of the grisly event. I paused before reaching the doorway at the sound of some rustling inside. The lights were now off, so I could not tell what was happening without going in. I told the children earlier that I hated peeking into dark, open spaces such as my attic; this felt like that.

I crouched and placed my sullied hand on the door frame, giving me balance so I did not have to lean in as far. My heart raced as I tried to stare through the shadows. I could only just make out what looked like someone hovering over the Brother Andy’s body.

“Hello?” I reluctantly threw out there.

“Gee Willy!” the figure shouted and jumped back from the body. “Doc Elias? You scared me darn-near full-to-death!”

I could recognize the voice, just couldn’t instantly put a match to it. I turned on the light switch in the entryway to reveal Rodell standing over the body. He quickly put his hands behind his back.

“Brother Rodell? What are you doing in here?” He looked even worse for wear since I last saw him.

“I just wanted to see what happened, honest,” he spoke nervously, taking a step back and away from the corpse.

“What do you have back there?” I asked, pointing to behind his back.

Rodell shook his head side-to-side repeatedly and took another step backwards.

“What were you doing, Rodell?” I questioned as forcefully as I could.

“There ain’t no problem, Doc,” he said while again taking another step back.

I stepped over to the body, keeping my eye on Rodell. At first glance I could not see anything amiss.

I dipped further down, trading looks between Rodell and the cadaver before finally seeing what had been done.

“Oh, no! No. No. No. Rodell? Rodell, why?” I looked at him with disappointment and disgust.

“Ain’t no harm, Doc. Ain’t no harm.”

I stood straight and faced him, placing my hands out. He dodged making eye contact with me, pursing his lips and looking over to the side wall.

“Give it to me,” I sternly told him.

“But he ain’t got no type of use for it, Doc!”

“Give it.”

He huffed in protest and glanced to the ceiling before unveiling his hands to me. His good hand was holding an old pair of bypass pruning shears, his flannel-wrapped hand delicately carried the pinky finger he removed from Brother Andy’s remains.

“I looked everywhere…couldn’t find mine,” Rodell explained with a look of shame. “Figured since his spirit has already crossed through the veil he would have all ten fingers in the eternal world, no point in just putting that finger in the ground if it can be put to use. I just really want my finger back.”

Having nothing to say to him, I turned back to the body.

“Please don’t tell the prophet, Brother Elias.”

I made sure Rodell left the house, minus the finger, before heading down to the medical station to get some items to prep the body for burial. Sleep sounded like a higher-quality option, but with the recent events it has proved better to take care of things now. My dry eyes squinted, tired and fighting the wind that whipped across the soundless town.

The rubbing of my sapped eyelids against my exhausted optics was interrupted by a pleasant voice.

“Is everything alright, Elias?”

“Keturah Dawn, what on Earth are you doing out?”

She stepped closer and said, “Everyone is talking about what happened; I couldn’t sleep. It is awful, just awful. I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

She was barefoot, wearing a long-sleeve sleeping gown. She said “Elias…I know this is not the best time, but I also wanted to make sure you were okay with the prophet’s announcement today.”

Her comment caught me off guard. With all that had happened I almost forgot about the marriage announcement. Almost.

“Why would you need to make sure I am okay?” I asked, trying to sound indifferent.

“Oh…well, I don’t know.” Keturah put her head down, embarrassed. “What do you think about it?”

“What do I think? I think if God says it’s so then it’s so.”

“Yeah. I s’pose you’re right. Something seems off…maybe it hasn’t sunken in yet.”

“You could give birth to our next prophet, what an incredible calling.” I wasn’t sure why I was offering up reassurances when I agreed that the arranged marriage didn’t sit right.