Apocalypse Burning (44 page)

“Beatings?”

“Yes.” Megan gazed fiercely at Boyd Fletcher, who returned her gaze impassively. “On more than one occasion.”

“Gerry told you about those beatings?”

“No.”

“Then how did you know?”

Megan felt trapped and frustrated. “Because you get a feel for these things. I’ve been a counselor for years.”

“A feel?”

“Yes.”

“Isn’t that a rather unscientific term?”

“I suppose.”

“So you
felt
that Gerry had been getting beaten at home?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you do anything about that?”

“I tried. Without Gerry coming forward, I didn’t have a case.”

“Do you have a case now?”

“No.” Megan looked at Boyd Fletcher. “But I wish I did.”

“Do you feel animosity toward Private Fletcher?”

“I don’t like men who beat their kids.”

“Can you offer any proof that Private Fletcher beat his child?”

Megan breathed out. “No.”

“Would Dr. Carson’s and Helen Cordell’s testimonies have helped your accusation against Private Fletcher?”

“Yes.”

“Isn’t it a shame that they’re no longer with us?”

Megan didn’t answer the question.

“Objection,” Benbow said. “That question is too personal and too inflammatory.”

“Fine,” Trimble said. “I’ll withdraw the question.”

Frustrated, Benbow sat back down. Megan knew Trimble had done all the damage he needed to by presenting the question. The jury had been reminded that she was the only one who maintained the story.

“Do you have a personal vendetta against Private Fletcher?” Trimble asked.

“No.”

“Any personal prejudices?”

“I don’t like the kind of father he was to Gerry.”

“Don’t you have an ex-husband, Mrs. Gander?”

Megan hesitated. “Yes.”

“Do you like the way he fathers your oldest son?”

“No.”

“Yet he is your son’s father?”

“Yes.”

“Would you be willing to say there are a number of different fathers—of parenting
styles,
I believe they’re called—in the world?”

“Yes.”

“Is it possible that you objected to Private Fletcher’s role as a father to Gerry because it didn’t fit your ideal?”

“I don’t like men who beat their children.”

“Again, Mrs. Gander, I have to ask you if you have any proof that these beatings took place?”

“No.”

Trimble walked away, pacing for just a moment as if gathering his thoughts. “A moment ago you said something very interesting to me. You said something about me being ‘left behind.’ Could you explain that reference to me?”

Megan glanced at Benbow, knowing then that they were in trouble.

Benbow stood. “Objection. Colonel, again I fail to see the relevance to this line of questioning.”

“This line of questioning deals directly with Mrs. Gander’s ability to perceive the world around us,” Trimble said. “As we’ve seen in the news, a great number of people are struggling to accept all the disappearances. I want to show that Mrs. Gander’s present problems have only grown worse since the disappearances, and that there were any number of problems before that time.”

Colonel Erickson was silent for a moment, then said, “I’ll allow it. For a short time, Major, but I want this kept on track.”

“Of course, Colonel,” Trimble said, “of course.” He cleared his throat. “Please explain to the court what you meant by ‘left behind.’”

Megan took a deep breath. “Those people disappeared because God raptured His church. That’s why all those people disappeared.”

“What do you mean by the word
raptured?”

“I mean that God reached down and took the believers from the world,” Megan said.

“The believers, Mrs. Gander?”

“Yes.”

“So all the people ‘left behind,’ as you term it, are nonbelievers?”

Megan hesitated over the question.

“Let me withdraw that question,” Trimble offered, “and ask you another. Do you believe in God, Mrs. Gander?”

“Yes.”

“Then how is it, if God took all the believers, that you are still here? left behind with us?”

Then Megan saw what Trimble was doing. He was forcing her to alienate everyone else in the courtroom, pointing out that by her own logic none of them were good people.

“I did believe in God,” Megan said.

“Did?”

“Still do.”

“Then how is it you’re not gone with all those missing people?”

“I don’t know,” Megan answered. “I’m still trying to work that out for myself.”

“Do you feel like the time for that reevaluation of self is growing short, Mrs. Gander?”

Trimble wasn’t going to back off. Megan saw that now. “Yes.”

“How much time do you think we have left?”

“Seven years,” Megan said. Then, realizing she had no reason to hold back, she plowed ahead. “You can read about what’s going to happen in the book of Revelation. We’re going to experience war, famine, plague, pestilence, and dozens of other things.”

“And an Antichrist?” Trimble asked. “I am somewhat familiar with the Bible myself, and I do remember the mention of an Antichrist.”

“Yes,” Megan answered. “The Antichrist will rise to power.”

Trimble turned and looked at the jury. “Do you wonder why it is that not many other people are coming forward with this idea, Mrs. Gander?”

“No. It took me a long time to recognize what was going on myself.”

“A long time?”

“Yes.”

“So you’ve been planning this for some time?”

The question caught Megan totally by surprise.

“Did you not hatch this little scheme of yours days, weeks, or possibly even months ago?” Trimble asked, turning back to her.

“No.”

Benbow started to rise, but the colonel waved him back to his seat. “Major,” the colonel called, “where are you going with this?”

“I think Mrs. Gander already had a plan in place the night Gerry Fletcher climbed up on that building. I think Mrs. Gander may be the victim of overwork and worry. It’s possible her mind has been working on this end-of-the-world architecture for some time. If she was not mentally stable the night she climbed up on that building after Gerry Fletcher, I think perhaps we can see that. I want to explore that.”

The colonel thought for a moment, then nodded. “I’ll allow it.”

Trimble turned immediately back to Megan. He leaned forward like a predator. “Did you talk Gerry Fletcher into going up on that building that night?”

“No. His father arrived at the hospital. Private Fletcher was obviously drunk and out of control. He scared Gerry and Gerry ran.”

“Gerry climbed to the top of that building through his own decision?”

“Yes.”

“Did you follow him up there?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to get him down from there. When I got up there, he threatened to jump.”

“Did he jump?”

“No. He fell.”

“And disappeared in midfall?”

“Yes.”

“Do you really expect this court to believe that?”

“That’s what happened.”

Trimble turned and walked away from her, then wheeled and pointed a finger at her. “Did the phenomenon that occurred and took every child from this world—including your own son Christopher—happen while you were on that rooftop?”

Megan put a hand to her mouth, remembering how everything had been, remembering how Gerry had fallen and she’d held on to him, remembering how his hand had started sliding through hers, remembering how she had kissed Chris good-bye for the last time and hadn’t known it and had been in such a rush—
“I’m just going to sleep for a little while, Mommy, so you can come and get me soon”—
that she’d left Chris there all alone in a strange place.

“Yes,” she answered. The tears came then, and she couldn’t stop them.

“When that happened,” Trimble said, “when Gerry vanished in front of your eyes, did you immediately think the Rapture had occurred?”

“No. I had no idea.”

“But the idea didn’t take too long to come to you, did it, Mrs. Gander?”

Megan had no clue what Trimble was talking about.

“Did only a few seconds pass before you figured out what you were going to do?”

“I don’t understand,” Megan said.

“MPs were on their way up to the rooftop, correct?”

“Yes. I was holding on to Gerry. He’d fallen over the side of the building. He was too heavy. I couldn’t pull him back up to safety. I felt his hand sliding through mine. I was so afraid they weren’t going to get there in time.”

“Or were you afraid that they would get there too soon?”

Megan stared at him.

“When did the idea to pick up Gerry Fletcher’s clothing after he had vanished come to you, Mrs. Gander? When did you think to set yourself up as a failed rescuer by dangling those empty clothes over the side of the building? Did you intend to set yourself up as some new messiah in that instant, to go forth with your message that the world is ending?”

“Gerry Fletcher fell from that building,” Megan said, stunned by the accusation. “People saw him fall.”

“Did you know, Mrs. Gander,” Trimble asked in a calm and patient voice, “that I have talked to more witnesses who say it might have only been the boy’s clothing they saw hanging from your hand rather than a boy? Do you remember how dark that night was? Or were you counting on that so no one could see what you were truly doing?”

“No,” Megan said. “That isn’t right. You’re making all of that up.”

“Didn’t you come to my office just a couple days ago, asking me to set up classes on the Tribulation for the teens you’re counseling?” Trimble asked.

“Yes, but—”

“Was it your plan, Mrs. Gander, to talk all of those kids into committing suicide the way you tried to convince Leslie Hollister that she was in a dream so that if she shot herself she wouldn’t really be hurt?”

“No!” Overcome by emotion, hurting and frustrated, Megan surged from the seat and turned to the courtroom. “Trimble is lying! He’s afraid that I
am
telling the truth!” She sucked in a ragged breath, knowing she was out of control but was unable to stop herself. “This isn’t about me! This is about what’s coming! It’s called the Tribulation! It’s in the Bible! Everything that’s going to happen in the next seven years is in the Bible!”

The people in the courtroom only stared at her as if she were a madwoman.
Oh, God,
she thought,
help me. Help me to make them see.

“This is about all of us,” Megan said. “We were left behind. For whatever reason, we are still here, and we have to figure out why and what we have to do to get right with God. This is not about Gerry Fletcher or me. This is about
us.”
She shook as she ran out of gas and looked around the courtroom. “You don’t believe me. You can’t see what’s really taking place all around you. That’s part of the reason you’re still here. You have to get past that. You have to before it’s too late.”

Silence reigned in the court for a moment.

Exhausted, Megan sat back down.

“Well,” Trimble said into the silence that followed, “I’m finished here, Colonel.”

Looking at the disappointment on Benbow’s face as well as the astonishment on the faces of the jury and the audience, Megan felt she was finished also.

Where are You, God? Why aren’t You here? This is Your fight. I can’t do this on my own. Please, You have got to help me.

15

Church of the Word
Marbury, Alabama
Local Time 1101 Hours

Delroy stood as the anchor at the end of the long rope the congregation used to hoist the church bell off the ground. He dug his feet in and pulled as the other men holding the rope joined him and pulled. Walter was there, adding his considerable strength, and so was Eddie Fikes, the counterman from the donut shop.

“Pull!” Delroy roared, heaving again as he gained another step. The other people around them took up the cry, echoing Delroy’s command.

The heavy church bell rose another foot into the air. Men on scaffolds at the side of the church guided the bell and kept it from slamming into the side of the church.

“Heave!” Delroy yelled again, and the men surged after him, gaining another foot.

Four years ago Reynard Culpepper had found and bought the original bell that had been housed in the church steeple at the Church of the Word sixty years ago, back when the area hadn’t been quite so developed and some of the surrounding land had still been farmland. Culpepper was a trader, a man who made his living selling and buying, trading and bartering. He had developed an online business by teaching himself the computer and then the Internet, which was surprising for a man of eighty-three. If someone wanted something for a fair price or wanted to swap out, Culpepper could get it. Plus commission. He’d always intended to sell the bell or drag it across the public scales for the money he could get. But he never had been able to.