by Tim Marquitz
“That’s Annie. She’s come to us through the darkness. Now she’s family.”
“How lovely,” the pastor murmured, glancing around the table till his eyes lit on Cassie’s belly. “You do look near the end, my dear. What plans have you for the birth?”
Cassie held up a pair of crossed fingers.
“None? There’s no room ready for the birthing? Herbs to help lessen the pain … linen to stop the bleeding?”
“We’ve got plenty of towels.” Cassie glanced at Jeb.
Jeb put a hand down on the table. “We’re going to be fine, Pastor.”
“Please,” the older man said. “Call me Herbert.”
“Herbert?” Jeb, Sarah, and Cassie said in unison.
Then from Jeb, “Herbert Friendly.”
“Parents, what can you do?” A short pause. “But back to them herbs—for the pain. I have some in my satchel, and would certainly be willing to leave them for this beautiful expecting wife of yours.”
“Do you know about birthing babies?”
Herbert turned to answer Cassie. “Well, as a matter of fact, I’ve assisted at a few. Our flock’s full of young folks and they all seem to be attempting to ‘go forth and multiply.’ We’ve had three births since the darkness fell, and all were easy.”
“Jeb, can I talk to you … in the hall?” Cassie rose from her chair. Jeb followed her into the hall.
“Ask him to stay.” Cassie’s eyes were wild. “Please, Jeb. I’m so worried about the birth and here’s someone with experience with people, not cows. You’ve got to ask him to stay!”
“I don’t know, Cassie. We don’t know much about—”
“He’s a preacher. What do I have to do, hit you over the head with a pan? How much more do you need to know? I’d think you’d be happy to have someone other than your Ma around to talk God with. Just ask him to stay till after the baby’s born. Please, Jeb. I’ve been so worried, and I’ve been praying like you tell me to, and it’s like God’s just sent the answer and he’s sitting in the fucking kitchen.”
Jeb stared into her tear-filled eyes and felt the desperation in her. If it would ease Cassie’s mind, what choice was there? Truth be told, he’d been worried himself. Herbert Friendly did seem like a godsend. He turned and walked back into the kitchen, thankful he had the brains not to reprove Cassie over the profanity. There, Sarah was staring into her teacup and Annie was still glaring at their guest. He thought the man might have been glaring back, but his eyes raised and a huge smile cracked his face as soon as Jeb came back into the room.
“Uh, Herbert, we was wondering if you might stay on a few days. At least till the baby’s born. Cassie would be a bit more comfortable knowing someone with some birthing knowledge was here to lend a hand.”
The man grinned—ear to ear. “I’d be delighted. God has sent me where I needed to be.”
~
The next morning Annie refused to leave Cassie’s side. She stayed plastered to her, and constantly placed herself between Cassie and the pastor. Jeb was confused by the behavior, but no amount of reasoning with her seemed to work. Cassie seemed to be getting annoyed, but tolerated the odd conduct, often even resting her arm on the girl’s shoulders.
For his part, the pastor pretended not to notice anything out of the ordinary and seemed content to help Sarah with the breakfast dishes. Later, however, he managed to catch up to Jeb as he headed to the barn.
“I wanted to talk to you about the birthing,” the man said when Jeb stopped.
“What about?”
“Well, I could be wrong, but I think the baby will be coming soon. I’m glad I’m here to help, but I must insist on my directions being followed.”
Something about the man’s manner struck Jeb as off. “What directions are those?”
“I think the birthing room is no place for a little girl, nor a husband. I’m going to have to insist you wait outside while I’m bringing your child into this world.”
Jeb shook his head. “Cassie’s not going through that alone, she’s terrified.”
“And rightly so.”
“What? You said birthing wasn’t a big deal.” Jeb’s breath hitched in his chest.
“I said that to calm down your wife. In the end, it might not be a big deal, but I’m not a doctor. I have no way of knowing if the baby is turned right … or what sort of problems may occur. Don’t you get all worried now, I can handle most things. And if I can’t, I’ll be glad of your mother’s help—and there’s always Him.” His eyes glanced skyward. “But your wife will be much calmer without you in the room, and, to be honest the little girl will be much better off, as well. It’s obvious she’s not comfortable around me, and really, witnessing a birth, especially for a mute who can’t effectively communicate her feelings—well, you need to trust me on this.”
Jeb stared at the ground. He’d been happy to stop worrying when the pastor said he had experience, but now all the fears were rushing back. “Are you sure? Before God Almighty, are you sure?”
“I am.” The pastor laid a comforting hand on Jeb’s shoulder. “You’re a good man. Now let me do what serendipity brought me here to do.”
Jeb nodded and turned to the barn. He glanced back once he’d reached the door, but the pastor had already headed back to the house.
~
He’d barely gotten the horses hitched when Sarah shouted, “Jeb, it’s time!”
Jeb took off at a run and leapt the porch stairs in a bound. Cassie, pale and drawn, was standing in a puddle of fluid, her eyes glazed. He crossed the room, swept her into his arms, carried her into their bedroom, and laid her on the bed.
She clutched at his hand. “Jeb, don’t you be leaving me.”
Jeb glanced at the pastor, who’d followed them into the room.
“I’m going to be right outside, darlin’. Herbert knows what he’s doing. You’re going to be fine.”
Annie rushed into the room and grabbed Cassie’s other hand.
“Me and Annie will wait out in the living room. Everything’s going to be okay, Cassie. I promise.”
She started to complain but then a contraction hit, and she screamed. Free from his wife’s grip, Jeb tried pulling Annie away, but still clutching Cass’s hand, she dropped to her knees, shaking her head violently. Knowing he had to get the girl out of the room, Jeb pried Annie’s hand from his wife, dragged her away, then threw her over his shoulder. Getting to the door, he turned for one last look at Cassie’s face, almost losing Annie in the process, what with her acting like a wild animal, bucking and kicking, trying to get free.
“Stop this, Annie,” he roared, freezing the girl. Out in the hall, he set her on the floor and knelt to face her. “Cassie and the baby will be fine, but we have to stay out here. I need you to mind me. You’re not going in that room.”
As if to punctuate the words, the latch snicked softly and he realized the pastor had locked the bedroom door. He couldn’t blame the man; it was the only way to be sure Annie stayed outside.
Sarah came forward. “Why’d he lock the door?”
“He told me he didn’t want us in the room, he figured Cassie would be better off with us waiting out here. But he’s going to call you in for help if he needs it.”
“How’m I supposed to get in with the door locked?”
“I guess he’ll open it. Really, Ma? Do we need to play this right now?”
“No. I’m sorry. Guess he knows what he’s doing.” Sarah put an arm around Annie, who was staring at the door. “Just seems a bit medieval, if you ask me.” She looked at the girl. “C’mon, Annie. We’ll make everyone some tea.”
Annie wouldn’t budge. Instead, she took up a spot across from the door and stared, her eyes trying to bore a hole through the wood. She had her head in that cocked position again, like she was listening to something he couldn’t hear.
But soon they could all hear what was going on. Cassie’s moans were loud and long, Herbert’s voice patient, cajoling. Hours passed, and Cassie’
s sounds grew weaker. Then Herbert was urging her to push and Cassie’s moans turned to loud grunts and cries.
Then silence.
Annie tensed and Jeb found himself staring at the door, listening for any sound from within. Shouldn’t the baby be crying if it had been born? Shouldn’t the pastor be talking still to Cassie? Jeb’s mind filled with awful images of blood and pale infants with blue lips.
Before he managed to shake himself clear of the morbid thoughts, Annie ran full steam at the door, hitting it with her shoulder and busting the door in. What happened next, he’d never be able to reconcile.
The door opened and there stood Herbert, Baptist minister, holding the baby’s lips to his mouth and sucking in. This is all wrong … shouldn’t he be blowing breath into the baby?
Jeb had no time to answer his own question as Annie’s small body sailed through the air, left leg extended … impacting the man’s chest, knocking him backwards. The two crashed together and rolled into a corner of the room. Jeb, seeing the man letting go of the baby the moment Annie’s kick nailed him, dove to catch the tiny bundle. The small weight landed squarely in his hands and he placed the infant on the bed, where he began briskly rubbing the newborn with a towel. Quick, the skin started pinking, but no cries issued from its tiny mouth. From the corner of his eye, Jeb noticed movement in the corner of the room where Annie and Herbert were entangled.
He looked over and his jaw dropped as the skin of the pastor’s face began to bubble and smoke. Then the flesh began to blacken and stretch. The smell of cooking meat filled the air. Jeb froze in pure fear as the nightmare creature that had been a man only moments before began to change. It rose from the floor, twisting as its flesh charred, the fingers becoming talons, and huge horns sprouting from its head. From the back, large leathery wings unfolded. Jeb couldn’t move, could only stare, stunned as the nightmare’s head turned towards the baby.
The split second its eyes focused on the infant, Annie began to glow—the light expanding from her chest until it surrounded her like a halo of raw energy. The demon, for surely the creature was a demon, some Hell-spawn bent on destruction, shielded its eyes from the light. But Annie walked relentlessly closer to it, the beast hissing and growling as it backed itself into a corner. Annie withdrew a dagger from her sleeve and buried it into the creature’s stomach, easily piercing its flesh, and causing the demon to bellow so loud that Jeb grabbed his ears in agony.
No sooner had the bellow issued forth, when the nightmare disappeared in a noxious explosion of sulfuric smoke. At its departure, Annie sprung to the bed and set her small ear to the baby’s chest and then, ever so carefully, kissed its tiny rosebud lips. The baby’s chest began to move and, at last, it sent up a wail. Jeb felt tears of gratitude slip past his lids.
His paralysis broken, Jeb bundled the baby and turned to Cassie. Sarah hurried to the bed to survey the damage the birthing had wreaked.
“She needs stitches, now. Annie, get me the first aid kit. If we’re quick, she’ll live.”
Cassie managed a wan smile before—
Jeb smiled back. “It’s a boy.”
“I know.”
—blessedly going unconscious.
~
Later, stitched, clean, and awake, Cassie cradled her baby and squeezed the hand of her husband, who was standing beside the bed. She motioned for Annie.
The young girl crawled on the bed and Cassie wrapped an arm around her. Annie reached to stroke the baby’s cheek with a finger. Then she turned, took the Bible from the table beside the bed, and opened it. Her small finger pointed to the name Uriah.
Jeb nodded. “My light is Yah.”
“I guess we have a name for him.” Sarah said.
Cassie smiled.
Jeb stared at his family and wondered what in the hell had happened.
~
Days passed and Cassie regained her strength. The baby was a quiet little fellow, and soon they were all settled into a comfortable routine. And though Annie rode fences with Jeb again, she spent as much time as possible staring at Uriah.
A few days after the birth, Annie brought Jeb the Bible and pointed to a passage:
Isaiah 29:7
The multitude of all the nations that fight against Ariel, even all who fight against her and her stronghold, and who distress her, will be like a dream, a vision of the night.
“Is that your name? Ariel?”
Annie nodded and hugged him. Jeb couldn’t help but think the name fitting. She had been a lion of God.
~
The nights had turned cold again and they’d gathered around the fireplace after supper. Jeb read to them from the Bible, while Sarah and Cassie sewed. Ariel and the baby lay on a quilt.
A resounding knock on the door split the quiet. Jeb sprang from his chair and hurried to the hall. He was determined to be more careful this time and had barely cracked the door when Ariel rushed past him onto the porch and flung herself at the man standing there.
“Ariel,” Jeb cried, attempting to grab a handful of shirt as she rushed past.
“It’s all right.” The man laughed. “She knows me.”
Ariel grabbed the man’s hand and nearly knocked Jeb over bringing him inside. Jeb started to protest, but stopped. The girl had proven herself to be a better judge of character than he. Sarah came into the kitchen and put the kettle on. Ariel got out mugs and placed them on the table, before going to stand at the stranger’s side.
Cassie came in from the living room, cradling Uriah in her arms. Once again, Jeb was struck with wonder at his beautiful son. The baby, like Ariel, seemed to glow from the inside.
“Who are you?”
“Father Tom. I imagine you’ve some questions, and I have a few answers, but what I’m about to tell you may sound strange.”
Jeb glanced at his mother, wife, and Ariel. “We’re pretty familiar with strange around here.”
“Two years before the darkness fell, a prophecy was found in an ancient text dating from before the birth of Jesus. It stated there’d come a time when God would tire of His creation and take away His greatest gift—the light.”
“The clouds,” Cassie whispered.
“Just so,” Father Tom continued. “The world would be plunged into darkness. Satan would have his chance to take what souls he could, but those who stayed the course of good and right would be rewarded. If enough souls were to keep true, the light would be returned.”
Sarah stepped forward. “How long do they have to keep true? Seems to me we’re being set up to fail.”
Father Tom nodded. “The odds would appear to be stacked in Satan’s favor. The prophecy continues to say there will be twelve children born in the darkness who would be bearers of light. And if those children reached the age of twelve, the light would be restored.” He smiled at Jeb. “You have a light bearer.”
Jeb stared at his son.
“That’s why the servant of darkness was in your house. Satan’s minions will stop at nothing to see the bringers of light brought down.”
“But what about Ariel? She’s no normal child. I mean, the way she went after that thing … ”
Father Tom smiled at Ariel. “The prophecy also foretold of children being born in the last decade before the dark, special children, who would guard the light bringers. Guardians born with special markings.”
“The tattoos,” Sarah said.
“Unfortunately, they are also born unable to speak.”
“So is this the end of it, or are they going to continue to come after my baby?” Cassie asked.
“I’m afraid this is nowhere near the end. Your task is a hard one … which is why I’ve decided to leave Ariel with you. She can teach you the things you need to know. The bond she has with the baby is a strong one, and she would give her life for his in an instant.”
Father Tom stayed only one more day. As he took his leave, Jeb walked him to the door.
“You’re a good man, Jeb. Faithful. Your faith will be tested many times befor
e this is through. Keep the faith. Don’t let doubt and fear creep into your heart.”
“No, Father, I won’t.” Jeb watched the man disappear into the timber and shivered. He remembered his dream from the night before. One not dissimilar from some in the past.
Bad things were on the way.
Lottery
Gene O’Neill
The first hard freeze hit the valley just after fall harvest, initiating the painting of the leaves of the great highland forests of beech, ash, and maple with brilliant autumn splashes of color, including mottled ambers, deep burgundies, glistening golds, and rich chocolates. But more uniquely, the cold snap had also triggered the first stage of the human changes. Then, three days of constant snow, as farmers and ranchers in the outlying regions of the valley packed up sleighs, horse-drawn wagons, mules, and backpacks for the trek into the Village for the Autumn Lottery and Ceremonies. Most had arrived by early Sunday afternoon, the majority staying with relatives or friends in town, a hardy couple camping in the Village Park, and several able to afford nice rooms in the hotel across from the Park.
All day Monday, as required by long term tradition and law, most of the eligible women—from the Village and the outlying farms and ranches too—registered at the Community Hall. One of the Village Elders separated little blue cards with the large numbers carefully printed in glossy black on both sections, giving one to the female recipient and the other to an Elder, who stored the duplicate in a black strongbox; a third Elder carefully recorded and checked names off the valley master roll. By early Tuesday afternoon, even the last of the female stragglers was accounted for, the master roll completely checked off—forty-four cards handed out this year, recipients ranging in age from Danika, a horse rancher’s daughter, who had just celebrated her 18th birthday three days ago, to Mrs. LeDoux, the Village librarian, who was still a day short of the upper limit of 50.
