Apocalypse Burning (29 page)

Delroy stared at the creature, paralyzed by the effrontery and the anger it evoked.

“What?” The creature looked at him with a big grin. “You thought I wouldn’t be able to step into this hovel because it’s supposed to be some sacred place? I’m not a vampire, Preacher. I’m something much, much worse. I’m the dark side of you that never learned to be afraid of God or of living your own existence.” It clenched a fist and started for Delroy. “Now, since you are so stupid, I’m going to finish that beating I started in the cemetery two nights ago.”

Delroy raised his hands. He was still sore and bruised all over from the struggle in the graveyard. He knew he wouldn’t last long against the creature, but he couldn’t run. There was nowhere to go.

Even as the creature drew its right hand back to swing, Delroy felt a
force
pass over him, under him, and around him. Some of it even flowed through him, jostling him a little and turning him cold for an instant.

But the force hammered the creature like a nuclear weapon. It staggered back three steps, then exploded into a swirl of flaming bones and burning, tattered clothing that blew through the double doors like a comet.

“Get out!” yelled a voice Delroy immediately recognized.

The voice belonged to Josiah Harte.

“This is the house I served my heavenly Father in,” the voice continued. “You will not taint this place with your foul filth, you unholy thing. Nor will you harm my son in this place. This place is sacred, an’ it is protected.”

The spinning, blazing tumble of bones and cloth blew out into the middle of the church courtyard, then rolled into one of the weedchoked flower beds. A heartbeat later, the flames extinguished and left behind charred bones and cloth.

“Daddy,” Delroy whispered, staring into the dust storm that had risen around him. Nothing moved. There was no answer, and he was already wondering if he’d only imagined the voice. Stunned, he walked outside and stared at the smoldering heap of bones in the front yard.

The bones shook and shivered as a skeleton pushed itself up from the ground. By the time the creature was standing, it wore flesh and clothes again and looked none the worse for wear. It turned its darklensed gaze heavenward and threw up its arms in disgust.

“You can’t protect him,” the creature yelled. “He’s weak. He can’t make it on his own. He can’t be what You want him to be. He’s afraid, and he’s filled with doubts. He’s going to be
mine.”
The creature lowered its gaze and pointed at Delroy. “You’re
mine,
Preacher. You’ll slip and fall, and when you do, I’ll be waiting.”

“Delroy?”

Turning toward the voice, Delroy saw Walter holding up the handset of his walkie-talkie. He wanted to tell the deputy what was going on but somehow knew that Walter wouldn’t see the thing even after he was told about it.

“Got some business to do,” Walter called from the cruiser. “Shouldn’t take more’n fifteen or twenty minutes. You gonna be all right here while I’m gone?”

Delroy struggled to find his voice. No matter what else happened, he knew that at the moment he didn’t want to leave the church. For the moment the building offered security against the creature; he knew that because it didn’t even try to come back up the steps. And Delroy wanted to know if it had really been his father’s voice he’d heard inside the church. “Aye,” Delroy croaked as fear continued to tighten his throat. “I’ll be fine.”

Walter waved and climbed into the cruiser.

When he glanced back at where the creature had been standing, Delroy was surprised to see only the weedchoked garden.

The creature was gone.

Slowly, Delroy turned and walked back inside the church. He stared at the walls, picturing how the church had looked before the vandals had struck and sprayed graffiti everywhere.

Surprise filled him as he realized he was looking for his father. “Daddy?” Delroy stumbled through the debris on shaking legs. It
had
been his father’s voice he’d heard. And something had blown the creature out of the church. He raised his voice. “Daddy?”

No one answered.

God, I’m not going crazy. I know that was my daddy I heard. He’s the only man I ever knew that had a tone of voice like that.

Overcome with doubt, frustration, and fear, Delroy walked to the small raised dais where the pulpit used to stand in front of the small section that held the choir. Both of the pulpit’s wooden arm railings were shattered.

He knelt in the dust. “Daddy, I know it was you I heard. I know you chased that thing from God’s house. And from me. But I need answers, Daddy. I swear I need answers in the worst way. I need to know what I’m supposed to do. I can’t keep going like this without direction. I need a rudder, Daddy, Lord. I need a rudder, or I fear I’m going to be lost forever.”

Resolutely, making himself do something that once had been so easy, Delroy took his hat off and shoved it under his left arm, then clasped his hands in front of him and started to pray. He could not believe how badly his hands shook. He kept the prayer simple.

“‘Our Father in heaven, hallowed be Your name. Your kingdom come. Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven.’” Delroy felt more calm as he repeated the prayer that had been taken from Matthew and Luke and spoken by Christians for centuries. “‘Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors. And do not lead us into temptatation, but deliver us from the evil one, for Yours is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever. Amen.’”

“Amen,” a woman’s voice said behind Delroy.

United States of America
Fort Benning, Georgia
Local Time 1019 Hours

Once outside the schoolroom in the bright morning sunlight, Penny Gillespie led Megan to a gray Lincoln Continental parked beside a van bearing the logo of a white dove on a field of blue—the registered trademark belonging to Dove TV.

Using the remote clicker, Penny unlocked the doors. “Please seat yourself inside, Mrs. Gander. I truly would like to talk to you.”

Megan was torn. As they’d walked outside, she noticed that a crowd numbering five or six dozen—men women, and young people—was beginning to gather around the elementary school. She stood outside the car and gazed in bewilderment.

On the other side of the car, Penny paused. “Mrs. Gander.”

“What are they doing here?” Megan asked.

“They heard about your class this morning,” Penny said. “Probably the same way I heard about it. Evidently some of the young people who walked out on you this morning talked to other young people. They, in turn, talked to their parents and other adults. I assure you, had not Captain Stashower interrupted your class, it might have turned out to be quite the event. I think more than a few people were very interested in listening to what you have to say.”

Megan couldn’t believe it.

“Mrs. Gander, I know a little restaurant in Columbus, Rosemary’s Bushel Basket. Maybe you’ve heard of it? I found the restaurant yesterday when my team and I arrived. I believe you might find the atmosphere and the menu to your liking. If I may, I’d like very much to treat you. You’ll probably get more peace there than you will at home or work right now. And you look like you could use a breather.”

In a daze, Megan opened the car door and got in.

Penny slid behind the wheel, started the engine, and smoothly backed out of the parking area.

Megan was startled when someone knocked on her window.

A heavyset man in a sports coat loped alongside the car. “Mrs. Gander, I’m Chuck Deighton. With CNN News. I need to speak with you.”

Thumbing the electric window button down to lower the passenger window a few inches, Penny said succinctly, “Mr. Deighton, I’m afraid Mrs. Gander has pressing business and is otherwise engaged at the moment, as I’m sure you can see perfectly fine for yourself. Now, unless you’d like to become a hood ornament on this vehicle, I do advise you to step away.”

The man grimaced and stopped running, letting the car slide away.

“I don’t understand,” Megan said.

Penny put the car in drive and drove toward the nearest street. “Mrs. Gander, over the last few days you have become something of a celebrity. Many people outside Fort Benning have heard of you and the things you have been involved with here.”

Megan digested that, not believing it.

“You are one of the reasons I drove over to Columbus,” Penny went on. “The other being that Fort Benning is the largest military infantry installation around. I’m afraid I do multitasking. In this day and age, you can hardly get away from it, though it does not bode well for social niceties. My father and I are convinced that in light of all the tragedies and problems around the globe, the military will be relentlessly called upon to handle civilian unrest, effect rescues, and set up supply stations and possibly an infrastructure to keep transportation moving throughout the country to make certain food and other things we take for granted continue to get where they are needed.”

“I’m no celebrity,” Megan protested.

“Meaning no disrespect, Mrs. Gander, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to disagree with that naïve vision of your present circumstances. I do beg your indulgence—or your forgiveness, as the case may be—as I try to explain my thinking.” Penny drove with amazing efficiency. “You have lost a son to this mysterious occurrence—which, by the way, I also believe was the Rapture—have a husband currently fighting for his life in that mess in Turkey, are being tried for dereliction of duty by the United States Army during a time of martial law, have a civil suit pending against you that could have far-reaching consequences, tried to save a child from what I gather are abusive parents—”

“An abusive father,” Megan corrected. “Gerry’s mother is just … self-involved.”

“—during a dramatic suicide attempt,” Penny went on.

“Gerry didn’t jump. He fell.”

“We’re splitting hairs here, Mrs. Gander. The boy did indeed climb up on that rooftop with the possible intention of throwing himself off.” Penny looked at her.

“Yes,” Megan answered.

“You have decided to fight the military in the dereliction of duty case instead of knuckling under to the military’s demands and risk so much of your personal freedom. Only two days ago, you were in the bedroom of another young person who tried to take her own life, and now you stand accused of convincing her that suicide was a viable option to living, though I have been told you were only trying to get that poor girl to lie down and relax. Very probably, you will be brought up on charges regarding that matter as well.”

As the litany of problems rolled from the other woman’s mouth, Megan started to feel overwhelmed.

“Instead of staying close to ground as many other people would have done, you undertook a personal crusade against the ranking base chaplain to get his office to start teaching the youths you have taken responsibility for about the coming Tribulation. Then, when Major Augustus Trimble would not aid you, you took it upon yourself to start teaching that information as best you could.” Penny looked at Megan. “Did I leave anything out?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Good.” Penny smiled. “I do pride myself—in moderation, of course, for I don’t ever want to become offensive in that self-indulgent practice—in being most thorough when I undertake a project.”

Amazed, Megan asked, “Where did you find all of this out?”

“Oh, here and there.” Penny waved nonchalantly, as if the feat were nothing. “People love to talk. A good journalist loves to listen. You get those two together, why, you can produce the darndest things. It’s a kind of professional gossip skill, I suppose. And I am a world-class player in that sport, though I don’t indulge in petty or vindictive chatter. Hopefully, if you have seen my show, you already know that about me so my assurances are merely redundant.”

“Why did you come to see me?”

“Because I believe you are a most fascinating woman, Mrs. Gander. Truly, I do.”

“Call me Megan.”

“Thank you for that kindness. And you must call me Penny.”

“Penny,” Megan said.

“You should know there will be a lot of reporters interested in you, Mrs. Gander, as more of your story goes public. But I feel as though I must warn you: Many of those reporters might not have your best interests at heart when they do their stories. Many will exploit you till something better comes along or treat you as an oddity—like a two-headed calf—then move on to the next oddity. They won’t see that you are truly trying to make a difference in the lives of those children.”