The Revelation (17 page)

The two walked around the edge of the house. The priest was standing next to a large rectangular patch of cleared ground that covered almost the entire side yard. The soil here had been recently tilled, and a pile of dried weeds andmanzanita bushes was pushed against the wall of the house. A few tentative rows had been started in the dirt at the far end of the rectangle. The priest dropped his trowel next to a stack of seed packets and wiped his hands on his jeans before offering one to Gordon. "Father Donald Andrews," he said. "First Episcopal Church."

Gordon shook the priest's hand. "Gordon Lewis," he said. "Pepsi deliveryman."

The priest laughed. He shook hands with the sheriff. "What can I do for you gentlemen?"

Jim looked at Gordon, then back at the priest. "We have to talk.

There are some things I'd like to tell you."

Father Andrews' face became serious as he listened to the sheriff's tone of voice. "Is this along the lines of what we were discussing the other day?"

Jim nodded.

"I thought so. I had a feeling you were keeping something back; though I hoped I was wrong." He picked up his stack of seeds and started walking toward the rear of the house. "Come on. We can talk inside."

Jim and Gordon sat on opposite ends of the couch in the living room while Father Andrews washed up and put on a pot of tea. The priest emerged from the kitchen a few moments later and sat down in the large overstuffed chair opposite the couch. He looked at the sheriff. "So what is all this about?"

"Dreams," Jim said.

"What?"

"You know about psychic experiences, Father. You've studied them, and you may have had a few yourself."

The priest nodded.

"I think that's what's happening here. Gordon and I have both been having some pretty strange dreams lately. Nightmares. For all I know, a lot of other people have been having them too." He paused. "A boy named Don Wilson had these kinds of dreams also." He leaned forward in his seat.

"But that boy saw things in his dreams. Real things. He saw the Selway family being murdered, and he told us where to find their bodies."

The priest's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"He's dead," Jim said, anticipating the priest's next question. "He'd had a new dream, an important dream that he said he had to tell me about, but he was killed before he could explain it to me."

"What happened?" Gordon asked.

"His house burned down. Officially, he died of smoke inhalation." Jim shook his head. "I mean, he did die of smoke inhalation. But it was intentional. He was murdered. Do you understand? It was a very convenient fire."

Father Andrews frowned. "What? Some sort of cult?"

"That's just what my wife thought. But no, I don't think that's what it is. I know this sounds crazy, but just bear with me." The tea kettle started whistling in the kitchen and the sheriff looked at Father Andrews questioningly, but the priest shook his head. Jim looked from the priest to Gordon and back again. "In his dream, the boy said he saw the Selway family tortured and killed by monsters. He said the creatures ate the baby, ripped apart the other children and tore off Mrs.Selway's head. We found the half-eaten remains of the baby, the eviscerated kids, and the mother and her head exactly where Don told us we would." The sheriff looked at Gordon.

"None of this leaves the room, understand?"

Gordon nodded silently, his face pale.

"But that wasn't all. Don told us that after the creatures killed Selway'sfamily, they madeSelway himself kneel before a fire, telling him to bow down before his new God. Something huge came out of the flames, something with horns that Don said looked like the devil, and Selwaywalked into the fire." He paused. "We never foundSelway's remains. Don told us we wouldn't."

"That's quite a story," Father Andrews said. "But you expect me to believe it all?"

"What don't you believe?"

"Where do you want me to start?" He looked at the sheriff and sighed.

"Okay, first, the conception of the devil as an entity with horns and a tail and a pitchfork comes from artists and fiction writers. It has no theological basis in fact--"

"Are you telling me that the Bible gives detailed descriptions of each and every demon mentioned and that none of them have horns?"

"Well,

no,"

the

priest

admitted.

"There

are

very

few

physical

descriptions."

"Okay then."

"But psychic dream correlations are very seldom literal. There's hardly ever a specific one-to-one correspondence between the details of a premonition and what actually occurs--"

The sheriff held up a hand. "Look, humor me. Suppose the boy saw what actually happened? What then?"

"I'm--"

"Take into account the fact that several churches have been vandalized and painted with goat's blood, that goats from neighboring farms have been slaughtered, that two of the farmers themselves have been killed, that similar things have happened around the state. Throw in your own experience, the disappearance of some teenage boys and some small stuff like Gordon's cat. What have you got?"

The priest looked at him. "Do you want my official answer as a member of the Episcopal church, or do you want my own personalanswer?v "Your personal answer. Your honest answer." "I don't know," Father Andrews admitted. "But you're starting to scare me."

Marina was standing in the front doorway when Gordon hopped out of the car. She walked down the porch steps to meet him. "What took you so long?"

He shook his head. "Nothing." He kissed her lightly on the lips.

"Did you find anything out from the sheriff?"

"No. Nothing new."

"That bastard. I'll be damned if I'll vote for him again. He hasn't done a single thing to find out what happened."

"He's trying," Gordon said.

She stepped back from him, her brows furrowed. She crossed her arms.

"What did he do? Give you some sob story about how overworked he is?"

Gordon smiled. "No."

"Well then why are you sticking up for him?"

"A lot of things have been happening around here. He's busy."

"That doesn't helpVlad ." Marina turned away with an angry toss of her head and walked back up the porch steps.

Gordon followed. "Look, I don't want to argue about this right now." He hefted the small brown paper sack in his hand, making a clanking jingling noise, and she turned around to look. "I bought some locks," he said.

She stared at him levelly. "That's something."

"I'm going to put them on so we don't have to worry about anyone else breaking in."

She nodded, softening but still not smiling. "You do that. I'll start making dinner."

For the next hour he lost himself in the menial job of installing locks on the windows. He was all the way around to the kitchen window when Marina called him in for dinner. He waved at her, telling her he'd be through in a minute, and hastily put in the last screw before going inside to eat.

He washed his hands in the kitchen sink as Marina placed a large salad and two bowls of minestrone soup on the table. She seemed to have forgotten all about their earlier disagreement. "So," she said, getting out the silverware, "how do these locks work?"

He sat down. "Simple. You push the bolt to lock the window, pull the bolt to open it."

"How come you're putting them on the outside?"

"The lock itself is on the underside of the window, even though you lock it from inside the house."

The phone rang, and they looked at each other. Ordinarily, when someone called during dinner they let the phone ring without answering it, but Gordon did not want to take any chances. "I'll get it," he said.

Marina nodded.

He came back into the kitchen a few minutes later, embarrassed.

"Brad," he said. He scratched his head. "He wants me to help him finish up tonight."

"Tonight!" Marina looked at the clock. "It's after six already!"

Gordon shrugged. "He's let me off early the past few days to take care of this break-in--"

"So what's that mean? You owe him your life?"

"That's the reason he's fallen behind. All he wants me to do is help him deliver a few cases to the markets in town. That's it. With both of us working it shouldn't take more than an hour. Hour and a half at the latest."

"What about the door locks? You're just going to leave me here alone by myself? It'll be dark in less than an hour."

"We only have two doors," he said. "I don't have to meet Brad until seven. I have plenty of time to put both locks on."

"Hurry up and eat then." Marina shivered, though it was far from cold.

"I want them done before you go."

All of the lights in the house were on, but Marina was still frightened. She should have gone with Gordon, should have gone to the stores with him and read magazines while he unloaded Pepsis.

The house sighed somewhere, creaking, and she blamed the wind, though she knew the air outside was still. She focused her attention on the TV, trying to get herself involved in the show, but the picture came in poorly, the dialogue interrupted by loud crackles of static, and she realized that there was a storm somewhere between Randall and Flagstaff. The thought made her aware of how isolated she really was from everything. She considered calling Ginny, but then decided against it. She didn't really have anything to say; she would just be calling to assuage her fears, to feign companionship.

Wasn't that reason enough?

No. She forced herself to watch the snowy television. Besides, Gordon would be home soon.

There was a knock at the door. Marina jumped from her chair and ran to the front. She peeked through the curtains of the living room window and saw a strange man in a gray business suit standing on her doorstep.

She gave a short, sharp cry and the man's sharp eyes veered instantly to her window. She let the curtain fall, backing into the room. She banged against a chair and reached behind her, grabbing it for support.

There was another knock at the door. This one firmer, less hesitant, more insistent. The man wanted in!

"Go away!" Marina yelled.

"I have come to speak with you and your husband," the man called through the closed door. His voice was loud, carrying with it the controlled authority of a public speaker.

"My husband's not home! Come back later!"

"I will talk with you, then."

Marina licked her lips, but her tongue was dry as well. She could feel her arms trembling with fear. Slowly, she crept forward until she was again at the window. She thought for a moment, then moved to another vantage point--the window on the other side of the door. She pulled the curtain slowly back and peeked out. The man's gaze was still fixed on the other window. "I would like to speak with you," he said.

"I can hear you fine!" Marina yelled. "Tell me what you want to tell me, then leave! Or I'm going to call the sheriff!"

His gaze swung immediately to her, and she blanched at the intensity of his expression. She noticed for the first time that he carried with him a Bible, tucked under his right arm.

"Who are you?" she demanded.

"I am Brother Elias. I have come to save you from your peril and to deliver you from the brink of the pit upon which you stand."

"Go away!"

Brother Elias took out his Bible and opened it to a previously marked page. '"Children, it is thethe last hour; and as you have heard that antichrist is coming, so now many antichrists have come; therefore we know that it is the last hour. They went out from us, but they were not of us; for if they had been of us, they would have continued with us; but they went out, that it might be plain that they all are not of us."" He closed the Bible and looked at her, his eyes holding hers.

Is this how these people keep their followers? Is this how Jim Jones got his disciples? She could not look away. It was as if he had her hypnotized.

"So it is written in The First Letter of John, chapter two, verses eighteen and nineteen. The antichrist is not coming, the antichrists are here!" His voice took on the rolling oratorical delivery of a fundamentalist minister. "We must fight this evil where it dwells! We must bring it out into the open sunshine of the Lord's divine light where it can be dissipated according to the Holy Word of God!" He opened up the Bible again, looking away, and Marina quickly let the curtain drop, retreating back into the room.

She could hear his voice, above the television, as she made her way to the telephone.

""And the great dragon was thrown down, that ancient serpent, who is called the devil and Satan, the deceiver of the whole world--he was thrown down to the earth, and his angels were thrown down with him.""

Marina, her fingers fumbling, found the number of the sheriff written on the emergency pad next to the phone. She quickly dialed. The line was busy, and she dialed again.

'"And when the dragon saw that he had been thrown down to the earth, he pursued the woman who had borne the male child--'"

"Shut up!" Marina yelled. "Shut up!" She was gratified to hear the loud voice stop for a moment. She picked up the phone again. "I'm calling the sheriff!" she announced. "I'm going to have you arrested!"