The Valley of Dry Bones

by Jerry B. Jenkins

  “Guess so.”

  “So, five votes wins it, yes?”

  “Yes, Doc!” Zeke snapped. “Can we move on?”

  “And speaking of how people talk,” Katashi said, “what were the meds you ordered that got the authorities so worked up, and what was the letter that came with the prescriptions that got you so worked up?”

  “What’re you talking about?”

  Zeke had wondered how Doc knew so much already. He couldn’t imagine Katashi with such a loose tongue. The question about the meds was logical, but the letter was news.

  Katashi leaned in. “I was told there would be no secrets among the elders, which sounded like a good idea. Word is that when Danley finally got in, he went to check on Cristelle, which gave you time to come out here and find the box full of meds. He mentioned that you seemed pleased with everything he and Raoul had brought you until you came to an envelope, which you tore open and then started slamming stuff around.”

  Doc cleared his throat. “Oh, that shouldn’t have come as a big surprise. For years I’ve written scripts for common maladies as any doctor would—antibiotics and such.”

  “Yeah, but this time . . .”

  “This time I’m treating two people for some pretty significant stuff. Cristelle is still in serious pain and, who knows, could still lose that leg. And we all know Jennie’s diagnosis. Any one of the meds I ordered for either of them could raise an eyebrow. In this case, apparently they did.”

  “All right, Doc,” Zeke said, “I need a direct answer. You’re going to hear many details of my activities in the last twenty-four hours, but let’s leave the specifics for later. At one point I was questioned by a police officer with the Bureau of Indian Affairs, and while I knew better than to offer unsolicited information, he asked me if in the course of my work I associated with Indian tribes, and I saw no harm in admitting that I did.”

  “No harm?”

  “I did not disclose our location or anyone’s name but my own.”

  “But they could have followed you and—”

  “Had they been able to stay with me, they’d be here by now. Hear me out. He asked if I was a medical practitioner and when I—”

  “Oh, tell me you didn’t give him my name!”

  “And when I told him I was not—of course I didn’t give him your name, Doc. What kind of a fool do you think I am? Anyway, he asked if I was aware of any Native Americans who had recently died. I told him no, because at that time I was not aware. But you can imagine what I thought.”

  Doc hesitated. “How should I know? I wasn’t there.”

  “C’mon. I assumed he had been put on to us for working with the Indians and now end of life–level drugs had been ordered and tracked heading back into California.”

  “So what you’re saying is, it’s my fault that we have authorities snooping around now.”

  “I’m wondering if you ordered more than just heavy meds, Doc. I’m asking if you ordered embalming fluid, which would really raise a red flag. The feds may think it’s for an ancient Native American woman, because general practitioners would use embalming fluid only for studying cadavers, right?”

  “Correct. Well, are you going to tell me how to do my job now, Zeke? Yes, I ordered embalming fluid, and if you want to know how much, maybe you ought to weigh and measure my dying patient. Did you think we would just dig a hole in our little churchyard here next to the compound? The woman has a family, in case you didn’t remember. And it’s 250 slow-driving miles to the border of Arizona! Do you have any idea how quickly a cancer-ridden corpse begins to decompose in this environment, even if we wrapped her as tightly as we could in whatever materials we could find? I don’t have anything remotely resembling a body bag, let alone a coffin, casket, or vault. Cremating her would require a fire hotter than we’re able to generate here and would create a plume that could be released only in the dead of night and create a stench that might draw creatures you’d regret. Not to mention that cremation may not be her wish or that of her husband or the family. Any other questions?”

  “Just one.”

  “Fire away.”

  “What would have been the downside of informing us of such a potentially attention-attracting action?”

  “I take full responsibility.”

  “Well, that’s real big of you, Doc. But if you want the truth, I dare say it is the reason we have federal authorities crawling all over us right now. And while we’re on a roll, why don’t you come clean about the contents of the letter that so upset you last night?”

  “It’s related, that’s all I’ll say.”

  “No!” Zeke said. “That’s not all you’ll say. Let’s put everything on the table. If nothing else comes of this day, this whole team is going to come together again with everything out in the open. I’m going to own up to, yes, the monumental mistake I made by charging out of here on my own and coming close to ruining everything we have in place. And we’re going to get to the bottom of who’s bringing Middle Eastern propaganda in here, wherever that leads. Now let’s finish this with you. Who was the letter from and what did it say?”

  Doc pulled it from his pocket and spread it on the table. It was from the consortium of doctors who claimed him as a partner and allowed him to use their address in Lake Havasu City. The managing partner expressed his appreciation for Doc’s professionalism and his willingness to “serve humanity and exercise your personal faith by serving the indigenous people of the former state of California.”

  However, he also said that it was with regret that the rest of the partners had voted to suspend Doc’s association with them, along with all the privileges it entailed, due to his having ordered “certain prescriptions that stimulated unwarranted attention to our group on the part of federal agencies which could have been avoided, had you merely followed standard protocols of preauthorization. We will be happy to revisit this suspension in six months, based on a written appeal from you.”

  25

  THE VOTE

  IN THE COMMONS, Zeke and the other two elders sat facing the tables as people began to gather. They stood as Bob Gill walked Jennie in, one arm around her waist and the other in front of her, serving as a brace she gripped with both hands. Her gait appeared steady, though slow.

  Alexis followed, pushing the IV drip stand and carrying a pillow she placed on a chair at the end of a table in the front row, onto which she and Bob gently sat Jennie. Alexis also set a bottle of water and a notepad before her. Jennie looked pale and tired, but she returned the embraces, handshakes, and smiles of everyone, from each elder all the way down to both Xavier children.

  Zeke had always been amazed by Doc’s bedside manner, which seemed at odds with his general disposition. As it seemed he was with anyone under his care, Doc took a few extra minutes to speak quietly with Jennie and apparently make sure she was up to what she had planned to do this Wednesday morning. He also must have reminded her to stay hydrated, as he opened her water bottle and got her to take a few sips.

  He seemed preoccupied when he returned to his seat next to Zeke. “I know we both agreed to wait till after the vote to speak,” he whispered, “but at some point I’d better say something about my suspension from the medical group and what that will mean here.”

  Zeke nodded. “What will it mean?”

  “Not much, really. On the bright side, it was private, not some official board sanction. I’ll just have to change my mailing address to something independent for a while. Fortunately I stocked up on the basics, so we shouldn’t run short on anything in the meantime.” He looked at his watch. “I’d better go get Cristelle. This will be her first time out since Sunday.”

  “She up to it?”

  Zeke could see from Doc’s look that he had reverted to form. “You think I’d risk her health if she wasn’t?”

  Zeke raised his hands in surrender. “Sorry for asking. Who’s with her now?”

  “Her husband, but your wife agreed to sit with her so Danley can concentrate. Alex
is doesn’t need to, because—”

  “She’s not voting, Doc, I know.”

  Danley and Doc slowly rolled Cristelle’s bed into the Commons, and Alexis followed pushing an IV drip stand. The patient was sitting up and looked alert, but as everyone seemed to rise at once and begin to approach, Doc said, “One at a time, please! And be brief. We don’t want to delay the meeting. Also, I’d ask you not to touch her. There’s still the risk of infection.”

  Cristelle smiled shyly at the attention, and when everyone returned to their seats, Alexis went back to the infirmary for a table that slid under the bed and provided a writing surface.

  Raoul and Benita, looking refreshed in clean clothes, settled in next to the Gills, and the Xavier children were typically reserved and well behaved, though Zeke thought Gabrielle seemed beyond nervous. Agitated? Maybe worse. She actually looked petrified. What could she be afraid of?

  The calmest presence—besides Zeke’s rock, Alexis, of course—was Elaine Meeks. Since the day he had met her, one of the worst of his life, she had been the same: tall, thin, soft-spoken, and—how would he put it?—wise. Some found her naïve, others docile, but Zeke didn’t. He recognized iron at her core.

  When others had apparently recoiled in horror at the sight of Junior, his tiny son, crushed under the wheels of the garbage truck years before, it was she who had flown to his side, comforting him in his final moments. She was the one who rescued Katashi from himself, from believing he didn’t deserve to live if Junior died due to his mistake.

  Elaine, despite her unlikely physique, was among the very few to sign on for one of the most demanding missions anyone could be asked to consider. And today she was the natural, unquestioned choice to be entrusted with counting the ballots.

  As he surveyed the room, however, Zeke was struck by the disparity between the feel of today’s gathering and that of the one just three days before. It wasn’t just the eight-mile difference, or that here they were safe in their own underground base camp. No, Sunday had begun with only a hint of danger, a potential threat. Katashi whispered of having seeing Hydro Mongers on his way in, just as Pastor Bob was ready to start the service.

  Zeke sat forward and planted his elbows on his knees, rested his chin in his hands, and rehearsed all that had changed in the mere seventy-two hours since then.

  God had spoken to him audibly, called him, set him apart, was preparing him to be His spokesman—for what and to whom, Zeke did not know.

  Five holdouts’ vehicles had been trashed—four deliberately, one through his own negligence.

  They learned that one of their beloved sisters would soon die.

  Their pastor had resigned.

  Another of their sisters had nearly been killed and was still suffering.

  A brother in Christ had been locked away, suspected of threatening another’s life and treason.

  They had been followed, accosted, challenged, their location jeopardized, and one of their most dangerous opponents might have become one of Zeke’s most unlikely allies.

  But the biggest difference between this and Sunday’s gathering was that Sasha was outside—armed with a walkie-talkie for emergencies and a nine-millimeter, with which she was proficient but thankfully had never had to use.

  This meeting would begin soon with Katashi’s prayer, but without Sasha’s music. With contention over the vote and sharp disagreement over what should happen that evening regarding the Crying Service, Zeke felt a deep loss.

  How he longed for the team spirit, the feeling of family, the sense they had so long cherished that this little band represented the body of Christ.

  Lord, he prayed, his eyes filling, don’t let us lose Your Spirit.

  And once again Zeke felt that hand on his shoulder and heard, “Be still and know that I am here.”

  Katashi pressed a knee against Zeke’s and whispered, “Jennie wants your attention.”

  He looked up quickly and rushed to her. “You all right?”

  “Sorry to bother you,” she whispered. “You know I don’t want to be a complicator . . .”

  “Whatever you want, Jennie.”

  “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t feel the Lord was in this, Zeke, honestly, I wouldn’t.”

  “Name it.”

  “Mahir needs to be here.”

  “Oh, I don’t know.”

  “Just go talk to him.”

  “It’s almost nine, and we were to start at the top of the hour.”

  “For me, Zeke. Please. If I’m wrong and he gives you any reason to hesitate . . .”

  “Hesitate? Jennie, you know what he did.”

  “I’ll trust your judgment.”

  Zeke tapped Raoul on the shoulder, giving him a nod to follow him out. He told Katashi, “Stall till we’re back.”

  On the way down the hall, Zeke said, “If I bring Mahir into the meeting—”

  “What?”

  “Hear me out. Sit him in the back and stand behind him. Zero tolerance, you got it?”

  “You sure, Zeke?”

  “Don’t let me down, Raoul. If he tries anything, you have full authority to do whatever you have to do.”

  Zeke heard Mahir approach as soon as he slipped the key into his lock. “Back away from the door,” he said. “Give me some space.”

  “No worries!” Mahir called out. “I could use some company!”

  He looked like he hadn’t slept and was unshaven, but his clothes were clean and he had showered. “Let me turn this off,” he said, flipping the switch on the TV network news audio feed. “I’ve had a lot of time to pray and cry, Zeke.”

  “That so?”

  “You don’t have to believe me. I don’t expect you to. All I can tell you is I must’ve lost my mind. I don’t even know the person I became. I still think you’ve got a serious problem in the ranks, but I should’ve just come straight to you and the elders with what I knew and not tried to take matters into my own—”

  “We’re having a meeting right now.”

  “What? Who? The elders?”

  “Everybody. Voting on a new elder board chairman and pastor. Jennie’s giving a farewell.”

  “Oh! I’d love to hear that!”

  “I can’t let you vote.”

  “I wouldn’t expect to, but I’d give anything, do anything if I could be there, I swear I would.”

  “You’ll sit in the back with Raoul, and we’re still going to have to deal with . . .”

  “Anything you say, Zeke. Yes. Anything. Thank you.”

  Zeke wasn’t surprised at the wide eyes that greeted them in the Commons. He signaled Katashi to get started, but as soon as Zeke sat, Doc whispered, “I suppose Mahir’s voting for you.”

  It was all Zeke could do to keep from saying, “That’s right, and so am I and both our wives.”

  Katashi greeted everyone, prayed, and explained that the elders had decided the vote for pastor should precede everything else. “We have a lot to cover this morning, and if I seem ill at ease, it’s because I am. As you know, I’m the newest elder, but it may come as a surprise to you that with the resignation of our former pastor, I happen to now be the oldest member of this board. I don’t expect my colleagues to extend to me the respect that should elicit, because that hasn’t been the case so far, but it’s true nonetheless. I am two years Mr. Thorppe’s senior and eight years Dr. Xavier’s.”

  Katashi’s own chuckle was the loudest. “Thus ends my attempt at comedy, so let’s get right into the voting. Mrs. Meeks will handle the counting of the ballots, so please raise your hand if you are an adult, eligible, and choosing to vote. Don’t be shy. I’ll be first.”

  Katashi raised his hand, as did Raoul and Benita, Danley and Cristelle, Zeke, Doc, and Gabrielle. Elaine carried a small tin around the room from which she passed out sheets of paper and pencils, then returned to her seat with her own sheet.

  “Instructions, Mrs. Meeks?” Katashi said.

  “Just write either Zeke or Doc as your vote for the next pastor,” s
he said, “then fold your paper once. I will come back around and ask you to place it in the tin. Then I will count the votes and write the results on a separate sheet for Mr. Aki.”

  Doc raised his hand. Katashi appeared to panic, as if he didn’t want to recognize him. He leaned between Doc and Zeke and whispered, “I thought we agreed neither of you was to say anything before the vote.”

  “Fair enough,” Doc said. “I was just going to suggest that whoever loses moves to make the vote unanimous and pledges his full support to the winner.”

  “Well, sure,” Zeke said. “We believe God’s in this regardless, so that should be a given. And Doc, just so you know I’m a man of my word . . .” He openly wrote Doc on his sheet and showed it to him.

  “I never doubted you,” Doc said, smiling, and he showed Zeke his own ballot with “DOC” on it in large block letters.

  “Sorry for the delay,” Katashi announced. “Carry on, and Mrs. Meeks will collect your ballots.”

  As Zeke sat waiting to drop his in the tin, he noticed Alexis praying while the three couples sitting with each other seemed animated. The Gills, who had not voted, were whispering. Raoul and Benita showed each other how they had voted, though Raoul kept his attention on Mahir. Danley held Cristelle’s paper so she could write with her free hand.

  Strangely, Zeke noticed that when Elaine reached Gabrielle, it appeared she hadn’t voted yet. She was hiding her paper from Caleb and Kayla. She turned her back to them, wrote, folded it quickly, and dropped it in the tin.

  Finally Elaine returned to the front, where the elders put theirs in, then she sat off to the side and carefully pulled out and unfolded each one, making hash marks on a separate sheet. She wrote on it and handed it to Katashi, who stood and said, “The will of the majority, and we believe of the Lord, is that Zeke is our new pastor. Our former pastor has agreed to come and pray for him, but before he does that, Dr. Xavier has asked to say a word.”

  Zeke reached to shake Doc’s hand but pulled back when he noticed Doc was not looking, and he didn’t want it to appear that Doc had refused. He knew Doc had to be disappointed and might even take it hard, but he had not expected to see Doc look as if he could barely move. Had he waited another two seconds, Zeke would have felt compelled to cover for him somehow.