Authors: Pauline Creeden
Sanctuary (25 page)
Hugh glanced at Jenni
e
, as
she spoon feed Mrs. Crawford the last of the chicken noodle soup she’d gotten from the mess hall. The woman’s glazed eyes watched the line of refugees that moved in and out of the propped open church door. Mickey stayed nearby, playing with a matchbox car on the floor.
Together, the four of them had become a makeshift family. It was better than living alone, and Jennie made it truly worthwhile. With a smile, Hugh put a blanket in the bottom of the box in front of him.
“You's the pastor?” the nearly toothless old man asked, stepping into the chapel.
Hugh placed the last of the folded shirts into the box for the man in line and shook his head. He was used to hearing this question at least four times per day. “No, I’m afraid not.”
“Where be he then? I gots to tell him sumthin’.”
“I’m afraid the pastor has gone on to be with the Lord.”
“Then I's a guessing you be the one to give this message to.”
Hugh nodded again and waited while the man took a deep breath and widened his eyes. It smacked of a baseball's player wind-up before giving a fast pitch.
“Five months. That’s how long the demons be set ta roam the Earth, says the Lord. After that time,
you
be his chosen ta find the opening and shuts it.” The man chewed on his gums harder than a cow chewing cud and pointed at Hugh with a bony finger.
Hugh waited a moment, watching the morning sun shine through the chapel doorway. The man who stood behind the skinny old one shrugged his shoulders. Hugh returned his gaze to the old man. “Me?”
“You.” The old man nodded with finality, crossing his arms over his chest.
“But I already told you, I’m not the pastor.” Hugh wanted to laugh, but the message gave him the chills.
“This here's the church, right? You be a ministering the Lord’s flock. In my book, you's the pastor. And the Spirit inside me agrees.”
Hugh shook his head, but his brain was already doing the math. If it had been six weeks now since the monsters were released, it would still be three and half months until the door was shut. Where would he start looking? He narrowed his eyes at the man. “Five months?”
The man nodded and picked up the box of clothes. He turned on his heel and started for the chapel door. “Five months,” he yelled back.
“You’re not taking that old man seriously, are you?” a man in line asked.
Hugh shrugged, but his mind wouldn’t let it go.
###
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DEDICATION AND THANKS
Thanks to my husband who is always there for me,
and the many people who read my short story and demanded that I write a book for it.
Thanks to my stalwart beta readers,
Missy Lee, Randy Streu, and Alexia Purdy.
And a special thank you to my editors,
Sheila Hollinghead, Emerald Barnes, and Kessie Carrol.
