“I’m so tired,” he said. “It’s that mockingbird. Just wouldn’t stop singing. Did you make that happen too?”
He laughed despite himself. Leah said nothing and followed his gaze.
“All I wanted was breakfast,” he said, nodding toward the vending machine. “A candy bar isn’t the healthiest thing in the world to eat, but I usually eat one every Saturday morning before I practice my sermon. Practice makes perfect, Leah. You remember that. The Spirit can speak through you, but you have to do your part.”
“Ruh-Reverend, we duh-don’t have t-time.”
“I put my money in. Pushed the buttons. But I didn’t get my reward. Do you understand, Leah? I followed all the directions and still didn’t get what I was hungry for.”
“I duh-don’t understand,” Leah said.
Reggie smiled. “No, I guess you don’t. And you still wouldn’t even if I explained it.”
“You c-can explain it on the way.”
He wanted to say no, they weren’t going anywhere. That despite their differences she was still a child and he was still an adult and he would not put either of them in danger. But then the last of the giant elms gave way and was thrown through the kitchen windows. Glass sprayed through the open door into the hallway, sending Leah into Reggie’s arms. The howl beyond consumed them. Reggie couldn’t understand how a storm could last so long and still continue to grow, but he knew Leah was right. If they stayed, their lives were at risk. If they went, their lives were at risk. But the Treasure Chest had a basement, and it was only a few blocks away.
He did not release her but struggled to his feet with Leah in his arms. They made their way down the dark hallway, sidestepping glass and wood. The side door was the closest exit. Reggie pushed against it, but the wind held it closed. He pushed again and managed to open the door just enough for them to squeeze through.
The wind took his breath. Reggie struggled against both it and the current of the rising water. They made it as far as the edge of the parking lot before he lost his footing, sending them both into the water. He tried to pick Leah up again.
“N-no.” Leah screamed the words, but they registered as barely a whisper. “I c-can walk. It’ll be fuh-faster. Just huh-hold my hand.”
Reggie did. The two struggled across the road to the far side, where the park’s iron fence provided them with at least a handhold. They pulled themselves along with Leah between Reggie and the fence, head down, rain stinging their bodies. What adrenaline had been coursing through him gave way to a wave of exhaustion that made continuing on impossible. Reggie looked up to see a van parked along the street that would perhaps offer enough cover for them to rest, if only for a moment. He took two steps toward it before seeing the crumpled mass.
“Close your eyes,” he yelled.
He didn’t know if Leah did, didn’t even know if she’d heard him. Reggie tried to keep himself between Leah and the corpse. The body lay crosswise in the street beside a yield sign bent nearly in half. Reggie uttered a silent prayer as the battered, lifeless face of Brent Spicer watched them pass.
The howl increased to a thunder all its own as the wind suddenly shifted. Reggie’s ears popped. He looked to his left just as the funnel reached down, swirling and angry and massive. Debris like circling birds hovered around its gaping maw. The sound was of Mattingly itself screaming in agony as the world around it was rent. Windows shattered, entire buildings seemed to explode. There was a bong and then a giant crushing sound as the clock tower in the middle of town fell. The updraft lurched the First Church of the Risen Christ upward from its foundations and spun it in the air like a child’s toy before dropping it into shards and splinters.
“We’re almost there,” he yelled. “We have to hurry.”
They fought on, one iron bar at a time, inching their way forward as the horrid sounds of collapsing buildings and snapping lines exploded overhead. The air swirled with what could not be battened to the ground. Mailboxes, bicycles, street signs, garbage cans, whole sections of siding, all pirouetted around them. Lightning struck a telephone pole nearby with a boom that left Reggie’s ears bleeding. Trees folded like blades of grass. The air stank of sulfur—brimstone, Reggie thought, and then he was sure they were all in judgment.
They reached the gate to the park when Reggie turned to see the newspaper box hurtling end over end toward them. He called out and pushed Leah out of the way, toppling her into the water just as the metal box slammed into his chest and sent him sprawling into the street. The rolling water was not enough to keep his head from smacking the pavement. Pain swept over him in one swelling wave after another. His bladder loosened. Far away, Leah screamed.
12
Barney saw the tornado first, just as they reached the wooden front door of the Treasure Chest. The sight of that black funnel diving out of the sky struck him with a terror so consuming that his body’s every involuntary function ceased. His very blood froze.
And it was an even worse terror when Tom asked, “Where’s Leah?”
The crowd stumbled inside like refugees behind them, filling the storefront. Dollhouses and marble rollers tumbled soundlessly to the floor. Blood streaked the barrels of Lincoln Logs and building blocks as people barreled past. Tom turned to Ellen. His face was contorted into an expression of vague confusion. He looked like he’d just misplaced his keys rather than his daughter. The hand he held was not Leah’s but Allie’s.
“Ellen, where’s Leah?”
Ellen shook her head as if Tom’s question had been asked in a foreign language. The people pushed in like sheep without a shepherd. Mayor Wallis and Jake Barnett tried to point them in the direction of the basement. Many were frantic, practically baying. Many more, like Tom and Ellen, had simply chosen numbness over madness and had found their own gray curtains.
“Allie,” Barney said, “where’s Leah? She was holdin’ your hand, and Tom was holdin’ hers. We was all together.”
Now it was Allie’s turn to shake her head. Tom looked around as the understanding of what was happening broke through his haze and hit him with a force even greater than the storm. Sheriff Barnett and Kate guided the people down the stairs as quickly as they could, one eye on the next in line and the other on the half of the funnel cloud that was visible through the front window.
“Allie,” Tom said, “do you know where Leah is? She was holding our hands.” He held up his own as an example. “I felt her slip out, but then I grabbed on again. Did you feel that too? Did I grab on to you instead?”
“I don’t know,” Allie said, dreamlike. “Where’s my mommy? Do you know where she is, Mr. Doctor?”
Barney felt cold even as the air outside somehow grew hotter. Thicker. And the noise. He’d always heard a tornado sounded like a freight train, but the one outside was more like a jet. Like the biggest jet the world had ever known.
Jake yelled, “Barney, Tom, Ellen, y’all get downstairs. Hurry up now.”
Tom turned to Ellen and said, “Go.”
“No,” she cried. “No, Tom, please God—”
“Go,” he said again. And then to Barney, “Make sure you get her downstairs. Allie too.”
“Where you goin’, Tom?”
“To find Leah.”
Tom ran for the door and didn’t pull it open as much as it burst inward. The wind found that small opening and created more, sweeping through tiny cracks in the walls and floors and between the window, sending papers and toys sprawling. What townspeople remained in the storefront cried out, some in fear and some to God. Shards of glass bit into Barney’s face. He fell backward into the cash register, knocking it to the ground. White slips of easel orders fluttered in the air like tiny helicopters before being sucked outside and disappearing forever.
Jake went to the door and yelled, “What are you doing?”
“Leah’s out there,” Tom answered. “We can’t find her.”
“You can’t go out there, Tom. You’ll never make it.”
“I have to.”
> Tom shoved Jake aside and tried the door again, though by then all he had to do was climb through the broken window. Barney grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him around just as the Old Firehouse Diner disappeared.
“You gotta leave her,” Barney roared. “You gotta trust, Tom. Ain’t nothin’ else for you now.”
“No,” Tom yelled. “She’s out there alone.”
Barney shook his head. “She ain’t alone, Tom.”
The walls of the Treasure Chest began to crack and snap. Ellen was crying, faced with the impossible choice between child and spouse. In the end, it was Allie who saved them all. She pushed through the wind and took Tom by the hand.
“You gotta trust,” she screamed. “Leah went to find my mommy. I know she did. You’ll see, Mr. Doctor. What’s gonna happen when she’s okay an’ you’re dead?”
Tom was as still as he could be within the yawing building. His hand stayed upon the doorknob, ready to pull. The rest stood in a half circle around him, holding on to what they could, waiting. Barney supposed that each of them had been forced to choose sometime that week whether to believe or doubt. This was Tom’s time to decide. And whether he made that choice or the crushing approach of the twister made it for him, he stepped away from the door and ushered Ellen and Allie toward the stairs.
Barney was last. He closed the basement door just as the Foster’s Seed building erupted in a volcano of bricks and mortar, and he knew what was disappearing would never be had again. There would not be a rebuilding. The town was too poor and the government money, even if it came, would not be enough. He turned and followed the sound of Jake Barnett’s voice. The basement was cramped and rank with the smell of wet and mold. There were no lights; the darkness was thicker than even the darkness outside. The only sounds were the sobs for the dead and dying and the jet engine overhead. For the first time since Mabel’s death, Barney began to pray.
13
The funnel’s bottom began to lose its cohesion as it rumbled over town. What came next was an unraveling not unlike a top that slowly lost its spin and wobbled until falling limply upon a table. The twister left as suddenly as it had come. The sky had had its fill of the earth.
Reggie looked up. The thick blanket of green clouds had given way to black; gray was not far behind. They did not creep but rather moved with a speed he believed impossible. Reggie watched those clouds roll by and decided he had not moved in forever and would not move forever still. He would just lie there and rest. Yes. That would be like heaven.
The water was still around him, over him, though its current and depth had lessened. Reggie knew this, though he could not feel it. Everything was numb but for the sharp pain that accompanied every sporadic breath. He tried to lift his arm but couldn’t. His head lolled to the side—Reggie thought it was the water and not himself that had done that—and saw his left arm bent in a grotesque L. The once regal buildings around him were now piles of stone and wood and steel. Jagged stumps remained where ancient trees once stood. Cars were overturned, trucks flipped onto their sides. The air was still and silent.
His chin moved closer to his chest. What looked like a dark sun appeared at the top of his vision and slowly eclipsed downward. It paused and then spoke, “Are you okay, Ruh-Reverend?”
Reggie’s eyes adjusted—that function, at least, was still working—to reveal not a star, but Leah’s face. She bent over him. Her hair was wet and bloody, her white T-shirt clung to her bony neck. Reggie realized she had placed his head in her lap.
“You’re bluh-bleeding all over,” she said. “I was g-going to be okay, but thuh-thank you for suh-saving me.” She sniffed. One hand moved from what Reggie guessed was his cheek and wiped at her nose. “I t-told you to please be c-careful of the nuh-newspaper box. I tried yuh-yelling, but no one’s c-coming. No one’s c-coming, Ruh-Reverend. I don’t nuh-know what to do.”
Reggie’s hand appeared from the corner of his eyes and took Leah’s, though he was not conscious of moving it. He forced his lips open. His tongue felt thick and heavy.
“It was supposed to. Be. Me,” he said.
“But it wuh-wouldn’t have h-hit me, Ruh-Reverend.”
Reggie shook his head
(so tired)
and tried again.
“God. Supposed to speak through me.” He wanted to offer more, but what came out was a bloody cough that splattered onto Leah’s shirt. Red droplets expanded into tiny circles. “I always believed . . . Leah. Did the. Right thing. Used correct . . . change. But it got stuck. You got my blessing.” Leah began to cry. Reggie thought he squeezed her hand but couldn’t be sure. “Why. Did he come for. You?”
“He d-didn’t come for me, Ruh-Reverend. He c-came for you.”
Reggie coughed again. He felt nothing now. He was bleeding everywhere, but numb. God’s graces continued even if His blessings did not. They continued on until the end.
“Did you huh-hear, Ruh-Reverend? He c-came for you. I nuh-know that nuh-now. Puh-please don’t d-die yet. Everything huh-happened so we c-could be right here n-now. Can you hear me? Puh-please say yes.”
Reggie tried but couldn’t. His tongue had gone the way of his legs and arms—dead, even if his mind hung on. He sighed instead and hoped Leah would understand.
“He c-comes to us all, Ruh-Reverend. He’s always w-with us. You and me aren’t duh-different. No one’s duh-different. It’s just that I nuh-know I’m small and everyone else thinks they’re buh-big. That’s why no one else c-can see Him. They pruh-pray and sing and say they luh-love Him, but d-deep down they think they know beh-better than He does. They d-do their own things because they thuh-think they’re b-big enough. But they’re not. No one’s big enough.”
Tendrils of smoke rose above them and gathered into the parting clouds. Leah began to fade. Everything began to fade.
“I nuh-know why the m-mockingbird sings,” Leah said. “It sings at nuh-night because it’s l-lonely and wants another m-mockingbird to love. Can you huh-hear me, Ruh-Reverend? Puh-lease say yes. The m-mockingbird sings b-because it’s looking for a b-better life. Please don’t c-close your eyes yuh-yet.”
Leah bent closer. Water dripped from the ends of her hair and fell upon Reggie’s face, bringing him back.
“You c-can see Him nuh-now, Ruh-Reverend. Yuh-you’re not b-big anymore.”
Reggie sighed again. Tried to nod. He did not know what she meant. Did not care. All Reggie knew was that Mattingly was gone. It was gone and it would never return, and he felt helpless to do anything about it. The townspeople would need him now. They would look to their reverend for succor and peace, they would bay for their shepherd, but Reggie knew he would not be there for them. He would be gone soon, not because he had lived a full life and stood ready to exchange one world for the next, but because he—Reggie Goggins—had sacrificed himself for this unbelieving child. Because he had forgotten how important he was, how big, and for one moment had chosen to make himself so . . .
Small.
Leah tilted his head to the side. The air began to stir and shimmer in reds and oranges, yellows and purples, only to gather into a form that was both there and a place faraway, a form that reached out for him. Its face shone with a light from deep within that pulsed and heaved with aliveness, a face that both moved and didn’t as it changed in both shape and complexion. Flame rippled outward from its skin, turning Reggie’s cold and dying body into a sea of warmth—of peace—and he knew then that it was not flame at all, it was the light of the world and all other worlds. Only its eyes remained steady and unchanged—deep pools of blue that penetrated Reggie’s heart into even his darkest places and yet loved him still.
The Rainbow Man.
And yet Reggie knew it was also not, that what he gazed upon was not all the Rainbow Man was, but merely all Reggie was able to understand.
Reggie began to cry.
The Rainbow Man began to sing.
Like waves over shells, like a baby’s laugh, His words falling down like sweet syrup over the
broken places in Reggie’s heart, strengthening it, healing it, making it strong. It was a song like rain upon parched earth that coaxed life from places long rendered dead and lost. It was life eternal. It was Grace that led home.
Reggie began to laugh. His body felt light, like a feather pulled up by the gentle breeze of his last words—a quiet whisper of “Fly over me.”
And then Reverend Reggie Goggins reached out into the still air, and he found his rest.
14
They emerged from the darkness to a world of fire and water, and of the range of terribleness that greeted them, nothing was so terrible as the realization that all they had once taken for granted now existed only in memory. Gone were the town square, the Old Firehouse Diner, the sheriff’s office. The two-story building that housed the headquarters of the Mattingly Gazette. So, too, the movie theater and Wenger’s Pharmacy and every other business within one square mile, all arranged in piles of rubble and waste that held neither order nor meaning. Cars sat upon the splintered remains of rooftops. Stalks of straw were embedded within tree trunks that were otherwise untouched, while mere feet away stood foundations of entire buildings that had been picked up and tossed away like refuse. The air was filled with the smell of fresh-cut wood. Fires raged untended.
Only the Treasure Chest remained, rising up from the ruins like a beacon.
The survivors fanned out in all directions. They could not know where they were going—all sense of direction had been lost along with every landmark they’d ever used to navigate by. Tom and Ellen ran for where they thought the park once stood. Barney and Allie were close behind. Echoes of names called out. Many wandered the streets with the stuttered steps and bent necks of the undead. They shook their heads and muttered no, as if their denial would make it all go away.
They found the remnants of the pavilions, and the path blocked. What lay below was little more than a sea of flotsam. Tom led them around the park. He held Ellen’s hand and found himself praying for the first time in his life, asking neither for forgiveness or mercy, but only that his daughter was alive.
When Mockingbirds Sing (9781401688233) Page 29
