The Fourth Trumpet

by Theresa Jenner Garrido

  “I do.”

  “But, what if this-this nightmare comes to an end? What if we wake up tomorrow and it’s all over? Would the marriage still be valid? Would you still want to be tied down with me?”

  For an answer, Keith gathered her in his arms and began kissing her with an earnestness that was electrifying.

  NINETEEN

  After a rollercoaster ride of emotions, Keith released her with a shaky laugh. “Man. Time to stop before I completely lose my senses. Let’s go inside and tell the others.” Keith pulled Andrea to her feet and laughed when her knees buckled and she fell against him. “Whoa, there. My kisses that intoxicating?”

  Andrea grinned. “Ohh, yeah.”

  Eleazar and Carrie were in the kitchen when they entered the house. Richard huddled in a corner of the living room. Thor lay in a curled ball in front of the fireplace.

  Keith poked Andrea in the ribs and whispered, “The kid’s still leery of the pooch.”

  “Thor is a very intelligent dog, you know. I don’t think he likes that odious punk.”

  “At least he isn’t tearing him apart. I still don’t trust the jerk even though he has seemed to calm down.”

  Andrea made a face. “I loathe him with every fiber of my being.”

  “Well, he hasn’t pulled anything, hasn’t tried to run away.”

  “I guess the priest dying shook him a little. Good. I hope it shook him. He was so cruel outside, vicious, hateful—demonic, really. I wouldn’t in a million years want him loose in my house. And, yet, here he is.”

  “Maybe Eleazar worked some miraculous healing on the kid.”

  “Whatever. But I’m keeping my distance. I’m going to watch that creep like a hawk.”

  Keith nodded then said in a louder voice, “Hey, Eleazar, Carrie. Andrea and I have something to tell you all.”

  The minister shuffled out of the kitchen. “Yes, my son? What is it?”

  Carrie was right behind him, carrying a candle in both hands. Her eyes were round with interest.

  Keith grinned. “Eleazar, I hope you remember how to perform a marriage ceremony because Andrea has agreed to marry me.”

  Carrie’s eyes opened wider and the candle wavered in her hand. Eleazar stared at Keith and Andrea with mouth partially open and eyebrows raised. He didn’t utter a word for thirty seconds. Richard sat up straighter in his corner. Thor lifted his head, ears at attention.

  “Say something.” Keith grinned, but his hold on Andrea’s shoulder tightened. “Have we shocked you all senseless?”

  The black minister gave his downy head a slight shake. “No, no, son. You have not shocked me senseless. Surprised me, yes, but not shocked. I have lived too long to be shocked by much of anything.”

  “Okay. Great. So, will you do it? You don’t have any objections, do you?”

  The old pastor smiled. “No, I do not have any objections. And I will not say this is too sudden, nor question whether you two children know one another well enough.”

  “No, I wouldn’t want you to do any of that,” Keith quipped.

  “Eleazar, please,” Andrea interjected. “After all we’ve been through, Keith and I know one another better than anyone on this planet.”

  “I do not doubt that, child. But it is my job—my duty, if you will—to ask questions, to make sure young people are not acting out on a whim or on impulse. Or raging hormones.”

  Andrea rolled her eyes and Keith shook his head. “We aren’t,” they said in unison.

  “Fine. Then allow me to see to the concoction, dear Carrie and I are making. We will discuss the upcoming nuptials over supper.”

  Carrie, who’d been noticeably silent throughout the interchange, spoke. “I don’t understand.” She took a step forward, eyes bouncing from Keith to Andrea. “Why? Why would you even consider such a thing? Look at me. I was happily married. Rob and I—we—were very happy and then. Then he disappeared; left me. Alone and-and…” She closed her eyes and moaned.

  Eleazar put an arm around her thin shoulders. “Dear, dear momma-to-be, do not upset yourself. Remember our little talk?” She nodded but her upper teeth worked her lower lip and her eyes remained closed, squeezing out silent tears. The minister gave his head a slight shake. “Dear, child. Now none of that, none of that. Come along.” He took the candle from her hand and led her back into the kitchen.

  Keith looked at Andrea, puffed out his cheeks and whistled. “Well. That was like a cold shower.”

  “She was upset, wasn’t she?”

  “She sure was working up into a hissy-fit.”

  “I was so wrapped up in my own problems, and then our decision to marry.”

  “I know, honey, I know. I feel for Carrie. I really do, but, well, she has kind of been a pain this whole time.”

  Andrea sighed. “She’s pregnant, Keith. Her hormones are a mess. And, she has lost her husband. You know?”

  “Not really.”

  “Oh, behave yourself.”

  “You’re right.” He chuckled. “Well, we certainly gave them all something to think about.”

  “We certainly did.” Andrea smiled but her eyes wandered to the youth still huddled in the corner. Richard was staring at something on the floor, obviously lost in his own thoughts. She knew he’d heard most of what they’d said, but the punk hadn’t registered any emotion. She wondered what was going through his twisted head. Did he have any loved ones he missed? Surely he knew people, had friends and family somewhere. Had his people disappeared like hers?

  “Supper,” Eleazar called, breaking Andrea’s reverie.

  Keith linked arms with her and together they strolled into the kitchen, where Carrie was putting the finishing touches to the big wooden table. She glanced at them but didn’t smile or say a word.

  Eleazar looked past Keith and Andrea and shook his head. “That boy,” he muttered. Clearing his throat he called, “Richard. Son, it is time for supper. Please join us.”

  Half a minute later, the punk entered the kitchen but paused in the doorway and stared at the people sitting at the table. “I-I’ll just take my plate back in there.” He jabbed a thumb behind him.

  “No, you will not,” the old minister said. “You will sit at the table with us. We have a delicious—” He glanced at the stuff Carrie was dishing up and made a face. “Well, I do not know what to call it. Perhaps ‘concoction’ will have to suffice. None the less, it is delicious and I am certain you will like it. We also have canned pears. Not fancy, by any means, but a feast just the same.”

  Richard eyed Keith warily but shuffled to the vacant chair next to the preacher. Eleazar beamed, folded his hands and offered a short prayer to bless the food. Then he clapped his hands once and began eating. Andrea watched in silence, mesmerized by the flickering flames dancing on the two stubby candles in the center of the table. The dim light made each face shadowy and alien yet somehow beautiful. A foreign land had replaced her once-familiar kitchen, and she was no longer at home but an immigrant.

  Again, a wave of depression washed over her. The euphoria and heady excitement of Keith’s startling proposal waned. Andrea could think more clearly now. The whole thing had been a crazy dream. She and Keith wouldn’t and shouldn’t get married. Who had they been kidding?

  “Andrea? Andrea?”

  She jerked back to the present. “Excuse me?”

  “Honey, I asked if you needed something. You haven’t taken a single bite.”

  Andrea looked at Keith and swallowed the growing lump in her throat. “Oh. Sorry. Guess I was daydreaming. I-I’m not really that hungry.” She glanced at the old preacher and hastened to add, “It looks and smells good, Eleazar. I’m just not hungry.”

  The man nodded. “I can understand that, my dear. However, I am asking that you try. A few bites to humor an old man. We must keep our strength up.”

  “We sure do. Honey, we’ve got plans to make, remember? Eleazar is going to marry us.”

  Andrea forced a smile. “Yes, you’re right.” Then her
face clouded. “But what about Father Joe? What are we going to do about him?”

  Keith shrugged. “I don’t know. Wrap him in something and put him out in the woods, maybe.”

  The fork fell out of her hand and clattered on the edge of the plate. “Keith! You can’t be serious?” Andrea cried.

  “Andrea, be sensible. The priest is dead, beyond feeling, beyond caring where we put his body.”

  “Oh, God, Keith! That-that sounds horrible.”

  “Oh, come on. He’s dead, Andrea.”

  “How can you be so-so cavalier about it?”

  “Honey, I’m not.”

  Eleazar put up a hand. “Children, children. Please. You both are correct in your feelings.” He looked at Andrea and smiled gently. “Dear girl, we will not abuse the dear man’s body nor his memory. But Keith is right. Our friend, Joseph, is beyond feeling any pain or fear. His body is but the shell of what he once was. And these are difficult and strange times. We will have a service. We will honor his memory. And we will dispose of the remains as best we can, under the circumstances.”

  Andrea’s shoulders sagged. “Yes. You’re right. I’m sorry for going ballistic.”

  Keith reached out to tousle her hair. “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have over-reacted. We’re all under a tremendous amount of stress.”

  “Where have I heard that before?” Andrea muttered.

  “Andy.”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “But it fits. And I like calling you that.”

  Andrea made a face.

  Conversation then turned to happy memories from their pasts. Eleazar related incidences about pastoring his small church, and Keith told a hilarious story about his first time on skis. In no time, they were laughing and chattering like old friends enjoying a simple meal together. Carrie talked very little but she did smile. Richard, on the other hand, kept noticeably silent and sullen.

  The plates cleaned of every morsel, they rose from the table and sighed. “That was immensely satisfying,” the old minister said, patting his stomach. “Even if I do say so, myself.”

  “Yes. Thanks, Carrie and Eleazar, for making dinner. It was great,” Keith grinned, his arm around Andrea.

  “I enjoyed doing it,” the pastor smiled. “I must confess to being a closet chef. You should taste my grilled chicken. However, on a less frivolous note, I have to be the bearer of bad news. We are nearly out of water.”

  “Yes,” Carrie said over her shoulder as she stacked dishes beside the sink. “I only have enough to wash these.”

  Keith inhaled, straightened his shoulders and exhaled. “Okay. So. Guess I need to make a bucket run.”

  Andrea felt a cold hand squeeze her heart. “Now?”

  “Better now than later. Get it out of the way.”

  Andrea glanced at the sullen young man standing apart from the others. “Why can’t Richard do it? Let him take a turn.”

  Richard looked visibly startled but kept his mouth shut. Keith thought a moment then nodded. He motioned for the youth to follow him. “Great idea. Come on, Richard. We’ll both go. Takes two to carry the buckets and hold the flashlight. You can help me. Andrea doesn’t need to do it.”

  Richard set his lips, threw a penetrating look Andrea’s way then picked up both empty buckets. Keith grabbed the flashlight, blew a kiss toward Andrea then stepped out onto the back porch—Richard at his heels. In seconds the inky maw had swallowed them both.

  “Please be careful, Keith,” Andrea called after them.

  TWENTY

  Andrea stood on the back porch and waited for Keith’s return. Behind her, in the kitchen, Carrie and Eleazar were talking in low voices. About what, she couldn’t tell. Andrea wondered if they realized how low their food supply had gotten. The Martins’ had had quite a bit of canned goods, but they certainly weren’t the local grocer’s. The stuff in her aunt’s freezer was turning. They’d eaten as much as they could but some couldn’t be saved.

  Even more frightening—at least to Andrea—was the dwindling supply of candles. She thought about how she’d roll her eyes whenever her aunt returned from shopping with at least one new scented candle in her bag. Didn’t matter that she had a box of them already. The woman had obsessed about having candles lit in every room of the house. “To freshen the air” she’d always announced as her defense. Aunt Claire loved candles.

  Now Andrea thanked her aunt for this little foible. The assortment of candles stored in the pantry, scented or not, had been a Godsend. And she had to thank Mrs. Martin, too. They believed in being ready for any and every emergency, and that had literally been another lifesaver. God bless the Martins.

  Andrea squeezed her eyes shut and willed away the tears that threatened to spill over. If she thought about her neighbors, she’d lose it. She had to focus on the present, the now. Every one of them had to contribute if they were going to survive. And they had to face facts.

  Fact one: they were running out of supplies.

  Fact two: the one thing Andrea dreaded more than anything was the thought of being in total darkness. They needed light. A kerosene lantern would be wonderful; a Coleman lantern that ran on batteries would be even better.

  But they didn’t have either one. Too bad they hadn’t thought to bring back Fr. Joe’s lantern. No way they should go looking for it now.

  A cracking sound snagged Andrea’s attention back to the cloying night and her vigil. She tensed, waiting to hear it again. About to yell Keith’s name, two dark forms suddenly materialized out of the Nothingness. They were back. They were safe. The tension drained from her body, leaving her limp.

  “Oh, Keith. Keith, you made it.” Her voice was breathy.

  “Yeah, we made it. Didn’t see or hear a thing.”

  Richard set his full bucket on the porch and entered the house without even a glance her way. Andrea looked at Keith and rolled her eyes. “Did he say anything while you were at the creek?”

  “Just one sentence. ‘Give me the damn bucket.’ He filled both while I held the light. That was it.”

  “I was so worried he might try something. I didn’t want him to go with you. I wanted him to do it alone. You’ve done it alone before.”

  Keith set his bucket beside the other then put his arms around her. “Well, it’s over and done and nothing happened. Let’s sit here for a while. Okay?”

  “Okay. You really didn’t hear or see anything?”

  “Nope. The woods were quiet. The only thing we heard was the gurgling brook.”

  “Are the things gone?”

  “I don’t know, honey. All I know is we didn’t see them. Or hear them.”

  Andrea scrunched up her face. “Oh, God. Remember the snarls and cries we heard at the beginning of this nightmare? One night—before you came—they kept me awake for hours. I remember thinking it sounded like tormented souls or people dying. It was awful. Horrible. Like a low-budget horror flick.” She shuddered.

  “I remember. I remember that night I helped Carrie walk the two miles here. Man, I thought we were goners. Knew we’d never make it. The poor girl was ready to collapse. I was torn between staying put or finding someone. Don’t see how we did it, if you want the truth. Kind of a miracle.”

  “Yeah. There isn’t much between your development and us. Highway W is pretty lonely. Just Kellermann’s pastures and the Schultz farm and a few houses like ours.” Andrea sighed. “My aunt and uncle loved being so isolated and-and free.” She closed her eyes and leaned against Keith’s shoulder. His hand caressed the back of her neck. She wanted to melt into his arms, fall asleep and wake to sunshine and normalcy. She wanted to phone her best friend back in Charleston and tell her she was getting married. She wanted a bridal shower, go dress shopping, plan a wedding. Another tremor ran down her spine.

  “You cold, honey?”

  “No.”

  “You’re shivering.”

  “I know. Keith?”

  “Yes?”

  “We’re almost out of candles. And
we’re getting low on food.”

  “I wondered about the candle situation, was going to check it out.”

  “What are we going to do? We’ve only been to the Martins’ place, and we’ve pretty much cleaned them out. How about the Kellermanns? For all we know, someone may be there, hiding out like we are.”

  “Could be, I guess, though Carrie and I knocked on the four houses between here and our subdivision. No one home. Every house was swathed in a blanket of that weird inky smoke. Except yours. Your house had a light showing through the window.”

  “That’s what Eleazar said,” Andrea murmured. “I didn’t see how he could’ve seen any light. I only lit one candle at a time. And the fireplace.”

  “I guess it’s all relative. You know? In this kind of darkness, a single match’s flame can be blinding.”

  “So weird.”

  “Yeah.”

  Andrea sighed. “I hate this. I want it to end.”

  Keith gathered her into his arms and held her close. “I know, honey. I know.” He kissed her nose, both closed eyes, ears and chin, then lingered on her mouth. Andrea was melting in his embrace when he suddenly released her. “Okay. Gotta go.”

  “Go? Go where?”

  “On a foraging trip. I spied a backpack in the hall closet. I’ll take that and hope if I find a supply of stuff we need that there’s a wheelbarrow or something handy.”

  “What? Now? You can’t!”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s-it’s late.”

  Keith grinned and tweaked her nose. “How do you know it’s late? For all you know, it might be in the early morning.”

  Andrea wasn’t amused. “Keith, stop it. You know what I mean. It’s too dark for you to go anywhere.”

  “We did it before. We’ve gone to the Martins’ place several times.”

  “I-I know. But, they’re just down the road. The Kellermanns are all the way around the bend. A mile away.”

  “I can cut through the pasture.”

  “They have a bull. You can’t go through the pasture. That bull would tear you to pieces.” She gripped both his hands and hung on like a vice. “Besides, there’re the things. Those creatures might appear at any time. Just because you didn’t see them by the creek, doesn’t mean they aren’t out there, waiting. And-and we don’t know what killed the Martins. Whatever got them could get you. Please, Keith. Be reasonable.”