Light of Logan

by Regina Smeltzer

  Ten men in groups of two or three stood in the front of the house. Another two men wandered from the side door. Rifles hung from their hands.

  Ruth looked for the skinny guy she had seen at the courthouse and spotted him standing alone by the door.

  “I came for my son,” Chet shouted, advancing another step.

  The crack of a rifle. Dirt shot in the air about three feet from Chet.

  “I said that’s far enough,” the man repeated.

  In the front seat, Betsy whimpered.

  Jennifer leaned forward and placed her head against Betsy’s.

  Beside Ruth, Pastor Clark sat with his eyes closed, lips moving. How could this possibly be God’s plan? Though doubtful, Ruth still clung to the hope that the pastor was right.

  “Where’s Joe?” Chet called from the field.

  “He ain’t here.” The man spit a dark stream into the grass. “Who else you got in the car?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It matters if I say it does. Tell them to git out.”

  Betsy sprang from the front car. “I want my son. Please, let him go. Please.”

  The man laughed; the sound stretched and pulled as it weaved across the open space. “Yeah, everyone wants the kid. I can give you a couple o’ mine.”

  Jennifer and Pastor Clark huddled around Betsy at the car’s front fender while Ruth lowered her feet out the back door, dry grass crunching under her sandals like brittle bones.

  Chet moved forward. Another bullet punched into the ground.

  Ruth slowly lowered her hand from the car door. Crows perched on the roof of the house. More occupied the path from the road, now worn from vehicle tires. Birds lined the branches of the small trees. Every black, unblinking eye seemed to stare at Ruth. It had to be her imagination, but even so, her stomach clenched. She told herself the birds weren’t out to get her. But they had attacked Mr. Charlie.

  Were these the same birds that killed her friend? Would the men protect Chip if the crows went crazy again? She imagined Joe’s soldiers running for their cars, saving their own necks while forgetting the little kidnapped boy. A small moan slipped from her lips.

  36

  Sunday Evening, July 28

  With each breath Ruth’s resolve grew. This was her house, her land. Mr. Charlie had given it to her for a reason. Somehow, he had known. And Pastor Clark said it was up to her. She was the only one who could save Chip.

  With legs that felt like they would buckle under her weight, Ruth stepped into the field. Crows scattered at her advance. “Joe, this is Ruth,” she yelled across the open space. “Why are you doing this?” At first, she thought her words were lost in the distance, but then the men glanced toward the broken windows. They heard her, and Joe was inside!

  Joe swaggered from the side door, the same door the paramedics had used to remove Mr. Charlie’s dead body. Unlike the camouflaged men, Joe wore black jeans and a black long-sleeved shirt. Soft blond hair blew across his eyes as he stopped in the trail of tire-crushed grass. “Well, if it isn’t the mother of my child. Hello, pretty one.”

  “Give Chip back to his parents.”

  “We are his parents.” A single crow landed on Joe’s shoulder. He reached up and stroked the black beast.

  Bile filled Ruth’s throat as she watched the unnatural display.

  “Why are you doing this? I did everything you asked me to do.” Ruth moved forward a few feet, cautiously, waiting for a bullet to displace the ground.

  Chet stood a few feet in front of her.

  “You will not be able to provide a second child.”

  “I told you I’d marry you.” She moved again, passing Chet. She had to get close enough to see Joe’s eyes; was this person Joe, or something else?

  “You have that ring around your neck. If you’re serious about providing me with an heir, throw the ring away.”

  She stood within twenty feet of him. “It won’t matter, Joe. I don’t need the ring to remember my promise to God. I’ll sleep with you after I’ve married you. But to show good faith…” She lifted the chain over her head, clutched the ring for a second, and tossed it as far as she could. There should have been pain at the loss, but instead, Ruth felt a sense of empowerment

  Joe sneered. “The ring doesn’t matter, not now anyway.”

  Ruth took another step.

  Where’s my cousin?” Joe asked. “I expected to see him here.”

  “He’s not with us.”

  “Do you love him?”

  “It doesn’t matter. I belong to you if you want me.”

  His face morphed into a rage. “You don’t understand!”

  “You made a deal, didn’t you, Joe?” Pastor Clark’s voice sounded from behind her where he now stood in the field beside Chet. “What is it you have to do?”

  “Shoot him!” Joe shouted.

  “No!” Ruth ran toward Chet and Pastor Clark, her arms stretched to provide as much protection as she could. “What’s wrong with you?” she screamed.

  “You don’t know how much power is available in the world, Ruthie, until you go looking for it. But be careful. The cost will be high.” He laughed and the sound flowed manic and wild. “Yes, Pastor, I made a deal. All I have to do is defeat the light of Logan to secure my future. I thought the light was the church, so I got myself a legislative seat, drafted the Salvation Law, and saw it passed. I had no idea you were in Logan, Ruth. You were never part of my plan.”

  “But you didn’t hurt the church, did you?” Ruth said, the words coming unbidden. “The church isn’t the building, it’s the people. And the people, the true church, are still strong.”

  “I figured the light must be Nate. When I saw the two of you together, I knew how to stop him.”

  “So all of this is just a game?”

  Men stood, guns forgotten at their sides.

  Ruth prayed she was giving Nate enough time to find Chip. How many of Joe’s goons were still inside the house?

  “I offered you to Nate, but he turned you down. Such a shame, really. You have so much to offer a man, and no one wants you. Oh, my mistake. The old man who lived here wanted you. I figured he might be the light of Logan, the way he always talked about the crows and hung around like a prophet.”

  “You killed Mr. Charlie, didn’t you?”

  “I learned how to control the crows.” Joe held up his index finger, and the large crow hopped onto his hand. Again, he stroked the feathered body before putting the bird back on his shoulder.

  Ruth moved closer, one step at a time. He didn’t object as she approached. When close enough to see his eyes, his venomous look tore the breath from her lungs.

  “It is you, Ruth.” Insanity softened his face. “You are the light of Logan. You are the one thing that keeps me from success.”

  The crow turned, and a distinct scar ran from head to wing.

  Backing away, the wild grass tangled around her feet, and she fell backwards.

  “You probably didn’t notice, but the crows always go where you are.” He smiled and waved his hands. “Look around, Ruth. What do you see?”

  She struggled to her feet.

  “The crows are here to watch, Ruthie. Oh, they’re not just crows, but you know that, don’t you, Pastor Clark? They want to see my destiny unfold.”

  “Joe, it’s not too late!” Pastor Clark shouted across the field.

  Joe was crazy. Surely, his men must see that. The urge to convince them crumbled her fear. “Why are you listening to Joe? He’s talked you into hating. Look what hate has done to Logan! The streets aren’t safe for your children. The moral barometer of the town, the church, is chained. While you’re looting and fighting, the Christians that you’ve been brainwashed to hate are repairing the roads and fixing the houses of your grandparents.

  “Open your eyes! What are you doing? And now you kidnapped a little boy? Is that how you want to be remembered—as murderers, and thieves, and kidnappers? I don’t know what he promised you, but it won�
��t happen. Put down your guns. You don’t have to follow him!”

  The men shifted, kicking up puffs of sand beneath their booted feet. Their doubt reached her and her voice strengthened. “Joe’s obeying a god that you don’t want to follow! Where do you think he gets his power?”

  “I brought you here, Ruth, because you are the light I’ve been searching for.” He raised his hands, lifted his head skyward and gave a bellowing yell.

  The hair on the back of Ruth’s neck stiffened.

  Silence followed.

  Then the sound started. Wings. The roof of the house seemed to lift as the black mass of crows took flight. From every direction, birds circled toward Ruth.

  She would be killed just like Mr. Charlie.

  God, help me!

  37

  Sunday Evening, July 28

  Greg Clark stood in shock as the crows circled toward Ruth, all except the crow on Joe’s shoulder. He was right. Only God could defeat Joe. Pastor Clark turned toward the car. “Pray!” he shouted across the field to Betsy and Jennifer. “Pray!”

  “What’s happening?” Chet shouted over the roar of wings.

  “Pray for Satan to be defeated! Pray, boy, as you’ve never prayed before!” Pastor Clark fell to his knees among the weeds.

  ~*~

  From the swamp, Nate spotted twenty or more camouflage-dressed men lingering in the yard. He didn’t know how to reach the house without being seen. The men were bunched in groups. Mumbled words reached him, and now and then a bawdy laugh. Dozens of empty beer cans littered the ground.

  A soldier flicked a cigarette and watched as a few blades of dry grass burned and then smoldered out.

  The sound of rifle fire startled Nate. His gut clenched, and he said a silent prayer for his friends as the men run to the front. Needing to cross the hundred or so feet between him and the house, Nate sprinted over the now-empty yard.

  Leaning flat against the back wall, he listened for approaching footsteps. He glanced around the corner. The side yard remained empty. Sticking close to the rotted siding, Nate edged his way to the first broken window and peered inside. A double bed almost filled the room. He remembered a cover on the bed when he had been there last, some sort of quilt. Now the mattress lay exposed.

  He moved to the second window and raised his head slowly. Chip lay asleep on the twin bed pushed into the far left corner.

  Nate’s heart leaped. The boy was here. Between where he stood and the bed was the bedroom door—and a clear sightline into the living space. Six men lounged inside the house; six men who could turn his way at any second.

  The sound of another gunshot slammed against Nate’s ears, and he ducked below the window. Feet shuffled inside. Voices drifted from the front yard. Ruth’s voice! Then Joe’s. He needed to hurry.

  He sneaked another peek into the bedroom and through the open door. The men had gathered around the broken front window. Taking a chance, Nate dropped inside. Broken glass ground beneath his shoes.

  “What’s that?”

  “A rat. Saw them outside.”

  Nate bolted to the right, away from view. With nowhere to hide, he hugged the wall beside the door.

  “Someone ought’ a check on the kid.”

  “Let the rats have him for lunch.”

  A can tumbled across the floor. “I’ll do it myself, you lazy…”

  The sound of booted feet shuffled toward the room. Nate’s mouth went dry. There was nowhere to hide. Taking several deep breaths, he prepared to fight.

  As the footsteps came closer, Nate tightened his muscles. A shadow filled the doorway, and then a thick-set man moved into the room. He glanced at the bed, grunted, and walked out.

  Nate sagged against the wall.

  Screams and a vibrating roar came from outside.

  “Come on!” yelled one of the men.

  “What about the kid?”

  “He’s not going anywhere. Hasn’t moved since Joe drugged him.”

  ~*~

  The winged bodies swarmed like an inverted bowl around Ruth. The birds bounced against each other as though pushing for position. The dome thickened until only the tiniest strip of light showed near the ground. Paralyzed with fear and helpless, she awaited her death.

  ~*~

  Nate gathered the sleeping boy into his arms. As he ran out the bedroom door, he glimpsed through the front window and froze. A black cyclone of crows swirled in front of Joe. Chet and Pastor Clark were in the field on their knees; Betsy and Jennifer, out by the road, hugged each other. Where was Ruth?

  Joe shifted his gaze from the sky to the window where Nate stood holding the sleeping Chip.

  “It’s over, Joe,” Nate mumbled. Within Nate’s being he knew he would never fall prey to his cousin again.

  Joe’s arms quivered and then fell to his sides.

  A handful of crows broke from the mass and streaked across the sky. Slowly, a few at a time, the crows broke free. And then more, until their bodies created a cloud of black as they flew over the swamp.

  Nate walked from the side door carrying a drowsy Chip. As his gaze met Ruth’s, he placed the boy in her arms. Chet and Betsy ran to her. His chest tightened with love as he watched Ruth kiss the boy’s cheek and give him up, again.

  One of the soldiers shouted, “Fire!”

  Smoke billowed over the top of the house. Vehicles roared out of the field, only to be stopped by police cars racing up the road, lights flashing.

  Sensing movement beside him, Nate turned in time to see Joe running toward the house. Flames licked across the roof.

  “Joe! No, stop!”

  With one foot already moving toward the house, Nate turned to Ruth, wanting to tell her all that was on his heart but only having seconds to do it. “Ruth, I have been such a fool. As soon as this is over…” He pulled himself away and sprinted toward the house, now fully engulfed in flames. As he ran, he glanced over his shoulder. “I love you, Ruth!”

  38

  Monday, July 29

  The house was quiet as Ruth walked down the stairs from the Clarks’ guest bedroom the next morning. The kitchen was empty, chairs slid in place, dishes washed. Ruth spied a note propped against the Rooster napkin holder on the table and she walked to it.

  Ruth, we had an errand to run. Breakfast is in the refrigerator. Warm it up in the microwave. Call me when you get up. The house phone and my cell number are in the den.

  Jennifer

  Ruth had just put the eggs and pancakes in the microwave when someone knocked on the back door. A silhouette showed through the red and white checked curtain covering the small window. Thinking it might be one of the parishioners needing Pastor Clark, she opened the door.

  Ruth’s eyes widened, and she inhaled sharply. Shaking off her surprise, she pulled Nate inside. His clothes smelled of swamp and were half covered in dried mud. She led his slumped body into a chair, unsure what to say, or if she even had the right to question him. Instead of talking, she stared at his haggard face.

  “Pastor Clark?” Nate asked as he sagged in the seat.

  Ruth slid into a chair across from him. “He’s not here. Jennifer left a note and said they had an errand to run.” At his look of disappointment, she rose from her chair. “I have a phone number. Do you want me to—”

  Nate wrapped warm fingers around her arm. “Just sit with me a minute.”

  With Nate’s hand still holding her wrist and her heart pounding in her chest, Ruth lowered herself back into the chair. She ached to talk to him, to be with him, but part of her didn’t want to hear what he might have to say about the past twelve hours. Should she still be afraid of Joe and what he might do?

  “I chased Joe all night. One minute I saw him, the next he melted into a clump of cyprus. It was so dark…” Nate stared ahead, his expression blank. “I had my hands on him a couple of times, but he slipped away. Eventually I lost him, and in the dark, I had trouble finding my way out.”

  “So you spent the night in the swamp?” She swallow
ed the lump that had grown in her throat, amazed a water snake or alligator…or a bear…hadn’t eaten him.

  “I holed up in the crook of a tree. Not bad, really. When it got light I found my way out.”

  “You’ve got to be hungry.” Ruth grabbed her breakfast from the microwave and placed it in front of him. She poured orange juice and watched as he devoured the food.

  He sat back and sighed. And then he surprised her with a smile. “I guess I should have washed my hands first.”

  She gave him a chuckle as her heart warmed even more. She wasn’t sure how Nate felt about her. It had seemed infinitely clear yesterday, but today things seemed different. He seemed different. She wasn’t sure why. “Nate, I never had the chance to thank you for rescuing Chip.”

  His gaze roamed her face. “You stood up to all those men.”

  “You weren’t there.”

  “I heard you as I stood beside the house.”

  She listened to the sound of his breathing and hated that she loved everything about him. In spite of all she had been through, regardless of how many times things had gone wrong between them, she still loved him. A wedding no longer hung over her head or a need to protect her child. Still, her relationship with Joe erased any chance she had with Nate.

  “Ruth.” His eyes softened and her heart skipped a beat. “I need to tell you—”

  The door opened. “Hey Ruth…Nate! What in the world?” Jennifer dropped her purse on the counter. “Are you all right?”

  “Wondered if I could get my truck.”

  “That’s right, we have your truck. I think Greg put your keys…here they are.” She lifted a round plastic disc with attached keys from the counter. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “I’m fine. What time will Greg be home?”

  “He may be gone all day.”

  “Have him call me, will you?” As Nate lifted himself from the chair, clumps of dirt dropped onto the floor. His mouth spread into a grimace. “Oh, man, I’m really sorry.”

  “I’ll take care of it,” Ruth said. She wished he wasn’t going, leaving her questioning their relationship all over again. If only Jennifer hadn’t arrived when she did.