The Revelation (26 page)

He stood by the front door and watched two more groups of children run to the church, swatting the flies away as they ran. More headlights pulled into the parking lot.

An earthquake was supposed to come after the flies, Father Andrews thought, and he suddenly felt sick to his stomach. What if it happened while they were at their Bible study? The church might cave in, killing all those kids.

But it was too late to call it off now. Most of the parents had already driven off and wouldn't be back for an hour.

They would practice civil defense tonight, he decided, duck and-cover.

Ann Simon, the last member of the study group, came running through the doorway, and Father Andrews closed the heavy wooden door behind her.

"To keep the flies out," he explained.

"We have a whole bunch at our house, too," Ann said as they walked toward the classroom. "I don't know where they all came from."

Father Andrews told the children the story of Joseph and his brothers, they practiced civil defense and talked for a moment about earthquakes, they had refreshments.

Nothing happened.

After the children had left, Father Andrews locked the door behind them and went into the chapel. He spent the night there, on his knees, praying.

He prayed for guidance but none came.

The earthquake hit at precisely ten after midnight.

Gordon and Marina had been making love, and they stopped in mid movement hardly daring to breathe, as the ground beneath them jolted in harsh irregular waves. There was the sound of shattering glass from the kitchen, the sound of something crashing in the bathroom. The hanging lamp above their bed was swinging wildly. "What is it?"

Marina screamed, clutching his back.

"An earthquake," Gordon said, feigning a calm he did not feel.

"Oh God," Marina said, closing her eyes. "Oh my God."

They held each other tight.

Jim had lain awake all night, waiting for this moment, knowing it would happen, preparing himself, but he still felt a helpless primal feeling of panic as he felt the earth shift beneath the bed. He jumped up, shaking Annette awake and rushing down the hall to the kids' rooms. He tookSuzonne in his arms and jerked Justin out of bed, running back to his own bedroom.

He and Annette and the kids stood under the doorway, waiting, until the quake was over.

Father Andrews, kneeling before the altar of the church, closed his eyes tighter, prayed more fervently, and hoped that the shaking would stop.

On the "Today" show the next morning, John Palmer said it was the first recorded earthquake in Arizona in over a hundred years. He said the quake measured 4.5 on the Richter scale and was centered just above the small town of Randall on the Mogollon Rim.

Jim sat in his office, the door locked, the phone off the hook, waiting for Gordon and Father Andrews to show up. He pulled a small piece off the glazed donut on his desk in front of him and swallowed it down with a sip of lukewarm coffee. The damage from the quake hadn't been that bad. He'd compared notes with Ernst at the fire department, and both of them had agreed that the damage was much less than either of them had expected. Of course the actual monetary amount of damages hadn't been assessed yet and probably wouldn't be for another week or so, but none of the buildings in town had collapsed and no one had been seriously injured.

That hadn't stopped people from calling, however. He had tried getting aholdof Pete right after the quake had stopped, and it had taken him a full fifteen minutes to get through. The office phones had been ringing nonstop ever since, which was why he had taken his own phone off the hook. He didn't feel like listening to petty complaints about broken china or smashed teacups. He'd let Rita and Tom handle that.

He had much more important things to think about.

He took another bite of the donut and another sip of coffee. He knew he should go back and talk to Brother Elias, but he did not want to go back there. He was afraid. He would wait until Gordon and Father Andrews got here.

There was a knock at the door.

"Who is it?" he called.

"Andrews."

Jim stood up and walked across the room to open the door. The priest, he noticed immediately, was wearing the same clothes he had worn yesterday. He had not shaved. His skin, normally pale, now looked even paler. The sheriff looked at him with concern. "Are you okay?"

Andrews shrugged. "I didn't get much sleep last night."

"Who did?" Jim said. He glanced back toward his desk. "Listen, do you want to wait here until Gordon comes, or would you rather go back and see Brother Elias right now?"

The priest licked his lips. "Let's see him now."

Jim closed the door behind him and led the way down the hall, past the conference room, past the supply room to the thick iron door that led to the trio of holding cells in the back. Even through the door, they could hear Brother Elias loudly singing hymns to himself. They looked at each other. "Are you sure?" Jim said.

Father Andrews nodded.

The sheriff unlocked the door, and they walked over to the first holding cell. Brother Elias stared at Jim and smiled. "You have your proof," he said.

The sheriff nodded. "Yeah. I have my proof." He unlocked the cell door.

"What do we do now? I assume you have some sort of plan."

Brother Elias rose slowly to his feet. He was clutching his Bible under his right arm. "We must wait until we are all here," he said.

He moved forward. "We will wait in your office."

"Okay," Jim agreed. "Come on."

They returned to his office to wait.

Ten minutes later, Gordon rapped softly on the door then pushed the door open. He stepped into the room and saw the sheriff seated at his desk, his fingers fiddling with a bent paper clip.

If Father Andrews was sitting on the couch opposite the sheriff's desk, holding his hands between his knees, staring at the carpet. He looked up as Gordon entered the room and smiled, but his smile seemed wan and forced.

In front of the window, silhouetted, staring out at the town, was the unmoving form of Brother Elias.

Brother Elias turned away from the window, stepping into the center of the room, metamorphosing from a silhouetted shadow to an almost normal looking man. He smiled at Gordon, though his black eyes remained unreadable. "We have been waiting for you," he said.

Gordon nodded slowly, unsure of what to say. He felt intimidated, though he was not quite sure why. He was aware that the balance of power in the room had shifted since the meeting yesterday. On the previous day, the authority had rested with the sheriff. Today, Brother Elias was in charge.

The sheriff stood up. "All right," he said. "We're all here now. Why don't you tell us what's going on?"

Brother Elias looked from Gordon, to the sheriff, to Father Andrews.

"You have all been chosen by the Lord our God to combat the evil of the adversary. Satan has been banished for all eternity from the comforting presence of the Lord, and in his impotent rage he has vowed revenge on the Heavenly Father. He has been gathering to him an army to thwart the Lord's will, and if he is not stopped in time his efforts will be successful." He looked at Gordon, then the sheriff. "You have had nightmares, have you not?"

Both men nodded.

"The Lord has chosen to speak with you through visions," Brother Elias said. He fingered his tie clasp. "He has seen fit to warn you of the coming evil through your dreams, as he did of old, as he did with Joseph and many of the prophets."

Jim cleared his throat. "So what's that mean? Whatever we saw in our dreams is going to come true?"

"The Lord works in mysterious ways," the preacher said. He looked at Father Andrews. "As the good father can tell you, God often speaks in parables or allegories."

Father Andrews found himself nodding.

"Maybe that was true at first," Jim said, "but I've been having some damn specific dreams lately. A kid I knew was in those dreams."

He looked hard at the preacher. "I dreamed about Milk Ranch Point."

"Me, too," Gordon added.

Brother Elias smiled. "As the time draws nigh, as the powers on both sides approach their peak, the visions become less vague. My visions, too, are clearer."

"I've had no nightmares," Father Andrews said softly.

"You were chosen nonetheless." The preacher looked at Jim. "Your friend, the boy. He was chosen by the Lord our God. Now he is guiding your visions, doing the Lord's work on the other side. You," he turned back to Father Andrews, "have been chosen to fill his role."

"Why have I been chosen?" the priest asked. "Why have we all been chosen?"

"You are psychic," Brother Elias said simply. "The Lord has blessed you with powers beyond those of ordinary men. Now he wants you to use those powers. You must speak with the adversary, you must communicate with the evil one."

Father Andrews paled.

"Your family," he said to Jim, "has always aided in the Lord's work. Your ancestors fought bravely against the adversary. Now it is your turn."

"This has happened before," Jim said.

Brother Elias nodded.

"At Milk Ranch Point."

"Yes."

"How far back does it go?" Jim asked. "How long has my family been involved?"

"You would not believe me if I told you."

"Tell me anyway." He paused. "My great-grandfather went up there, didn't he?"

"Ezra Weldon," the preacher said. "And Ten-Hano-Kachiabefore him. And Nan-Timochabefore him. And Ware-Kay Non .. ."

"And you were there, weren't you? All the way back then?"

Brother Elias only smiled.

Jim looked at the business-suited preacher and shivered. How had he appeared to his great-grandfather? he wondered. As one of those frontier ministers with the dusty black suit and stovepipe hat?

And how before that? As a wandering Indian? How about originally? A caveman? He wondered how his very first ancestor, way back when, had gotten involved in all this. Someone, sometime, had to have made a conscious decision to go along with all this.

But he was making a conscious decision, wasn't he? This was his own choice.

Not really. It had already been decided for him.

"Why was I chosen?" Gordon asked.

Brother Elias shook his head. "That I cannot yet tell you," he said.

"You are not ready for it. I will tell you when the time comes."

"Tell me now," Gordon said.

"I will tell you when the time comes," Brother Elias repeated. His black eyes bored into Gordon's, and Gordon felt his will crumble beneath the gaze. The preacher moved over to the sheriff's desk and picked up a pencil and pad of paper. "We have little time," he said.

"The hour of action is drawing nigh. We must prepare if we are to be successful."

"And what if we are successful?" Jim asked. "Will that be it? Will that be the end of it?"

Brother Elias shook his head. "We were successful in the past," he said.

"If we had not been, the four of us would not be here today.

Satan has been beaten and humiliated by Almighty God, and he will never give up in his attempt to usurp the power of the Lord. He is immortal.

And though we may beat him in these small battles, he can afford to wait. He will try again and again, gathering to him new armies, until he is successful."

"What if we lose?" Gordon asked.

"Satan will walk the earth. The earth will be his, and all in it his subjects. He will twist lives to his own purposes and mock the creations of God. He will laugh in the face of the Lord."

"Why doesn't God do something about it himself?" Father Andrews asked quietly. "Why must he work through our imperfect vessels?"

"Do not dare to question the decisions of the Lord," Brother Elias said angrily. "Do not presume to know the mind of God."

Jim stepped between the two. "How much time do you think we have?" he asked Brother Elias.

"I do not know," the preacher admitted. "The evil has already started, and it will intensify as more are converted. I would estimate that it will be twenty-four hours before Satan and his minions have the strength to take what they are after. We must strike before then. If we don't, we are lost."

They were silent, looking at each other, each of them feeling numb.

Brother Elias began writing on the pad of paper. He tore off the top sheet and handed it to the sheriff. Jim looked over the penciled list.

He handed it to Father Andrews, who read it and handed it to Gordon.

Gordon glanced at the paper. "Items we need," it said in a thick bold hand. He scanned the list. Thick rope, an unspecified amount. Pickup trucks. Four copies of the Revised Standard Version of the Bible.

Plastic tarp. Four crucifixes. Four pitchforks.

Pitchforks?

Four high-powered rifles. Four hand-held axes. Matches. A gallon of human blood.

Gordon looked up from the paper at Brother Elias. "What are we going to be doing?" he whispered.

Brother Elias ignored him. Jim took the paper back from Gordon, looking it over. "Most of this should be fairly easy to get," he said.