Decoration Day (10 page)

The vertigo he’d experienced all the other times he’d stood was gone. He walked to the dresser without any trouble. A bowl of what looked like chicken salad sat on the tray with a few saltine crackers on a platter. Olives also garnished the meal. The ink on the legal pad looked undamaged by the weather. Both the lunch choice and the sermon cheered David.

“God to be praised,” he said aloud.

He picked up his sermon notes and walked back to the bed. The chicken salad would be fine in a few minutes. He wanted to review his work. The fervor with which he had written yesterday undoubtedly had left the page full of brilliance. The beginning of the sermon read just as he remembered it. The time it had taken to pull those words from his mind gave them extra power. After half a page, the words became incomprehensible. They were not illegible. Each letter curled just so in dark ink. The letters themselves looked foreign, but not any language David had ever seen. Despite the alienness of the letters, he recognized his handwriting.

A strong pull came from deep inside him. He walked to the window and looked out toward the church. Through a gap in the landscape he had never noticed before, the church’s spire jutted upward. A violet aura surrounded it. Something as deep inside of him as that pulling told him the words would be translated there. The Holy Spirit lived there; David knew it. That great gift of God would provide translation.

Wooziness overtook him again. He stumbled back to the bed and collapsed there. The pages of his notepad crinkled beneath him as he passed out.

David screamed. The force of it tore through his throat, making it feel raw. After what seemed like an eternity of expelling the shriek, it broke off because his voice could take no more. The terror still clenched him. It took a long moment to realize what he screamed at. The woman in black stood at the foot of his bed. Her veil was piled on top of the large-brimmed hat she wore. The tentacles of her face reached out for him. She was like a strange Medusa who didn’t turn men to stone but paralyzed them with terror.

His voice caught its second wind, and the scream blared out again. It took on the rhythm of a child wailing, a siren sound. The writhing appendages drew closer and closer to David’s face. He almost felt the sharp suckers on his skin. The tentacles retracted, and the woman disappeared into a fog, like rich purple velvet.

The bedroom door slammed open. Marsh rushed in, wild-eyed, looking in all directions. Thomasine followed close behind him. She held a broom with the bristles up, poised to swat at whatever caused him to cry out.

“Are you okay?” Marsh asked, coming to his side.

“That was the woman with tentacles for a face.” David knew he ranted. “She attacked me at the church the other night. That’s why I fell and hit my head again.”

Marsh pushed David back into a lying position. He examined the preacher’s face. David looked into Marsh’s eyes. They had genuine concern in them. He felt the palm of one of Marsh’s hands on his forehead and the back of
 
his other hand on his cheek.

“Thomasine, get Thomas to fetch Ebenezer. Reverend Stanley is burning alive with fever. I am afraid it’s boiling his brains.”

“I’ll get right on it,” she said. “I’ll bring up some ice too.”

“With a washcloth and cool water as well,” Marsh said. “We have to get this under control.”

“I thought God gave me a sign of peace.” David rose up and grabbed Marsh by the arm. He squeezed much harder than he intended to. The other man winced. “Why has he allowed this demon to come to me?”

“Lie back down,” Marsh said. “You are getting more delirious due to the fever. You have to try and calm yourself.”

“I have to leave this place before I lose everything,” David said.

“You need to calm down.” Marsh stood. “I’m going to get the ice and water. I can’t wait on that dastardly slow Thomasine while she lollygags.”

Marsh left the room, not closing the door after him. David felt happy about that. As long as he wasn’t completely isolated, he had a shot of surviving. Any more time alone and that woman would do him in.

Bugs crawled under his skin. They itched. He scratched at them and felt his skin moving as they bored a path just under the top layer. They moved toward his face, toward his brain. Before they made it even to his elbow, he felt them boring into his cerebral cortex, making it look like Swiss cheese. A scream rose up in his throat but hung there.

Other things happened around him. At the seam between the molding and ceiling, the God light glowed down, but it was a faint, pastel lavender color. The sight worried him but not as much as what ran up the walls. Raised places milled around under the wallpaper. They looked like tentacles moving just beneath the surface. They sought a way free of the paper. A sudden realization came to David. He looked down at his arms, where the bugs crawled under his skin. Instead of seeing a scattering of small bumps sliding up his arms, veins appeared to move and slither toward his face. The tentacles crawled under his skin. The scream came free. He beat at his arms with a flattened palm as if trying to put out flames. He alternated the beatings from arm to arm in a spastic fit.

Marsh burst back into the room. He slammed a bowl on the dresser. Marsh grabbed David’s wrists and pressed his arms to the bed. The man used remarkable strength. His appearance belied his ability.

“Thomasine, get in here now!” he said.

“Let me go!” David struggled. “The tentacles are heading toward my brain.”

“What is the matter with him?” Thomasine asked in her usual flat tones. However, in David’s near-crazed hearing, the words echoed.

“He’s having a fit of some sort. Wrap some ice in that washcloth and get it on his forehead,” Marsh said.

David struggled again to gain freedom from Marsh’s grasp. He failed but laid his head down. Cooperation might give Marsh a reason to lessen his grip, and David could jump up and escape. He closed his eyes to feign calmness. The whole time the writhing tentacles moved in his arms. Marsh’s hands stopped their progress for the moment, but the movement still felt maddening.

Thomasine placed the ice pack on his head. The pain of the sudden coldness stabbing into his brain radiated from David’s forehead to his temples. The shock of it caused the writhing behind the wallpaper to stop. The squirming beneath his skin eased off as well. The weak glow continued right at the edge of the molding and the ceiling.

“That worked fast,” Thomasine said.

“Good.” Marsh sounded relieved.

David felt relief too. Clarity began to come back to his mind. He still felt the urge to run, but wouldn’t. The sharp pain the cold pack brought to his head faded as well.

“I was afraid you were about to have a seizure,” Marsh said to him.

He licked his lips. Terror left his mouth as dry as kindling. “I think I almost did.”

Every word hurt as it came out. The screaming had ripped his throat raw. David smacked his lips in hopes that either Marsh or Thomasine would understand he wanted water.

“If I let go of your hands, are you going to stay still?” Marsh asked. David nodded his agreement. “I’ll get you some water.”

Marsh let go of David’s hands. He moved them to bring back the circulation. All the excitement had caused them to go numb, but nothing seemed to crawl under the skin anymore. Marsh brought a cup of water. He put it to David’s lips. The liquid felt like what the rich man begged Lazarus for from hell, a great relief.

“Bless you,” David said. “I think I can hold the compress on my head.”

Marsh nodded for Thomasine to let him. He pressed the cloth tighter to his head. The closer the ice cubes could get to the skin, the better. He closed his eyes. The faint glow on the ceiling was the last thing he saw. It seemed to brighten as he did so.

“Hopefully, Ebenezer will be here soon,” Marsh said. “Stay still and keep your eyes closed. Thomasine and I will keep you company. Don’t worry; we’ll be quiet.”

David was happy that they were staying. The creature seemed to fear Marsh. It disappeared as soon as it sensed him coming. Silence would also be welcome. His hearing seemed amplified. He was positive he could hear the rain hitting the oak leaves on the other side of the wall. As for now, David focused on the blackness behind his eyelids.

“Come along, Reverend Stanley,” a friendly feminine voice said.

He opened his eyes. A raven-haired woman with porcelain-white features stared down at him. Sunlight lit everything. The addition of that wonderful natural light made the room much less oppressive. The woman didn’t hurt things either. Her beauty was like nothing David had ever seen. It looked almost otherworldly. For a moment he felt that he might be looking at an angel beckoning him away from his dead body and taking him toward heaven.

“Am I dead?” he asked.

“No,” she said. “I’m here to take you on a tour of our town. Alistair sent me to do so.”

“Who are you?”

“That’s not important.”

“What day is it?” David sat up in bed. His head didn’t swim. Nothing felt out of place.

“Monday,” She put her hand out to him. “Come along. Time is wasting.”

He got out of bed and took her hand. It felt soft, warm and welcoming. He hadn’t held a woman’s hand like that in quite a while. It made him miss Anna. They walked to the parlor downstairs. A little boy of about eight waited for them. He too had dark hair but vibrant blue eyes. David thought the boy looked like the son he’d wished he had, but God had not seen fit for him and Anna to have children. The boy smiled, full of life and boy vibrancy.

“This is my son,” the woman said. “He’ll be coming with us.”

“What’s your name?” David asked the youth.

“Boy,” he replied with no guile whatsoever.

“Who’s your daddy, Tarzan?” David laughed and looked at the woman. Neither reciprocated. They must not have gotten the joke.

“Are we ready?” she asked.

“Let’s go,” David said. “Will Thomas be driving us around?”

“We’re going to walk. It’s a very nice day.” Boy took David’s other hand.

The trio walked through the front door that opened by itself. The warmth of the sun radiated around him as they stepped onto the porch. The light washed out the entire image. Everything looked blanched. David wanted to shield his eyes, but had no need. The light didn’t sting like he’d expected. The woman and Boy pulled him forward. They stepped off the porch onto the sidewalk. The town started to come into focus as the brightness of the light began to fade away.

David felt as if he floated down the street. He looked at his feet, but they disappeared into the white light. So did the woman’s and Boy’s. He allowed the two strangers to pull him down the hill into the heart of the town.

People walked down the street, normal-looking people. None of them hunched over like toads. The café he’d seen days before looked brand new, gleaming with the light reflected off the windows. Patrons ate lunch and waved as they passed. He saw the library bustling with children. Sale advertisements hung in the window of the grocery store. The bright letters announced fresh ground chuck at $2.50 per pound, a good deal indeed. Across the creek that sparkled in the sunlight, a bright green starburst spun in the air of the gas station. Cars filled up, ready for a new day.

“What happened to this place?” David asked.

“You gave us this,” the woman said. “You saved our town.”

“What do you mean? How?”

“We can play again,” Boy said. “It has been forever since we played.”

The sound of giggling children filled up his ears. That was joined by the sound of laughing women, and then chuckling men. The joy of Innsboro swelled within David. Warmth like he’d never felt radiated from deep inside him. The light brightened again until it completely washed out everything. A cold gush of water hit him in the face.

David awoke to Ebenezer washing his face with an icy cloth. The room looked different. The ceiling was high and ornate. Scrolled moldings lined it. A gold chandelier dangled over the bed. Each bulb glowed with an orange filament. Water spattered on the window as it rained.

“Where am I?” he asked.

“In my bedroom,” Marsh said, walking into his vision. “We decided to move you here for comfort.”

“I was fine. The woman you sent to me walked me around town. It looked wonderful. Children played at the library, and folks ate lunch at the café. The sun beamed.” He looked out the window at the rain streaking the glass. “What day is it?”

“Still Friday,” Marsh said.

David turned to look at his host. A painting hung on the wall behind him. It was the portrait of the woman who had given him the tour. “She’s the one who took me on the tour.”

Marsh looked over his shoulder. “That’s impossible. She’s been dead for years.”

“She and a boy came into the room upstairs. They said you sent them.” David feared he was starting to rant again. He didn’t feel as well as he had only a few minutes ago.

“Was this the boy?” Marsh took a frame from the bedside table.

A small oil portrait of Boy stared at him. “I believe it is. He is a little bit younger in the painting.”

“That is my son.” Marsh pointed to the portrait on the wall. “That is my wife, Louisa. They could not have taken you on a tour.”