Nailgun Messiah (Micah Reed Book 1)

by Jim Heskett

  This was exactly what he’d been looking for.

  “You cold and calculating bitch.”

  He hit the print function and the browser showed one connected printer, so Micah rifled through the drawers until he found a printer stashed in the bottom desk drawer, with a cable running out a hole in the back.

  As the first website printed, headlights flashed outside. He ducked down and peered out the window, but couldn’t see anything. As he printed out the next website, he left the room and eased through the hall toward the front door. No cars coming up the driveway.

  Paused. Listened, but only silence came back.

  He raced back to Lilah’s room and printed a couple more websites from her history, then took a screenshot of her general browser history and printed that, too.

  More headlights flashed, and these were pointed at the house. Micah glanced out the window at Eagle’s car, crunching through the snow to a stop in front of the gate. The last page should have already printed, but when Micah looked down at the printer, a yellow light flashed.

  Paper jam.

  He yanked on the paper, half jutting from the front, ink smearing on the last few inches. Then out the window, at Eagle parking and then stepping into the gathering snow on the lawn.

  Micah’s brain raced and his heart pounded against his chest. “Okay, come on. You can do this.”

  He wrenched the paper free, but it tore and left a few chunks sticking out. Would she notice that? She would definitely notice that.

  He had only seconds before Eagle would enter the house.

  Micah jabbed a thumb at the power button and gripped the chunks, pulling at them. His finger slipped on the smudging ink, covering the paper. He tensed his hand to grab, bearing down to gain leverage.

  The plastic cried and squeaked, then finally the chunk came free.

  Micah shut the drawer, stacked his papers together, then folded them in half as he got up and pushed the chair back under the desk. He shoved the papers down the front of his pants while he scooted out of the room as the front door was opening. He pivoted away from the front door, headed for the kitchen.

  Safely in the kitchen, he tried to force his racing heart to normalize. If Eagle came in here, he would know something was up.

  Eagle’s footsteps clomped toward Lilah’s room, paused, and then retreated. He went up the stairs, and Micah let out a breath so heavy that he went woozy for a second.

  If this evidence didn’t convince Magda that she needed to leave this crazy place, then he didn’t know what would.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Since Hannah and Magda were working the same shift at the hardware store this week, they’d synced their break schedules. And since the sun was shining brightly enough this morning to nullify some of the cold in the air, they went outside for their morning break. The two women walked their sodas out to the patio table behind the hardware store to stare at the mountains until their thirty minutes were up.

  Hannah popped the top on her Sprite and sipped the bubbly liquid as she eased into the patio chair. Light-colored sodas settled her stomach, which had been like a volcano lately. Her last Dr. Pepper had ended up splashed all over the inside of the hardware store toilet. She couldn’t wait for this nausea phase to fizzle out and die. If they called it morning sickness, why did it strike at all hours of the day?

  The cold metal stung her through her pants, and she shifted to get comfortable. “Did you see the sticker on Walt’s slacks?”

  “What sticker?” Magda said.

  “The size sticker, or whatever. Must be new pants, because he forgot to take off the sticker. You can see 36 stamped all over his butt.”

  Magda giggled, then silence fell. Crisp, biting morning air pinched at Hannah’s cheeks, which felt tingly with the heat of flush, for some reason. The quiet unnerved her today.

  “You excited about Frozen Dead Guy Days?” Hannah said.

  “Am I excited about what?”

  “Frozen Dead Guy Days. It happens every March in Nederland. Weren’t you here last year?”

  Magda shook her head. “I moved in last April.”

  “Oh, wait, that’s right. I remember now, because Garrett made a joke about you only moving in because the ski season was ending at Eldora.”

  Magda smiled thinly and drummed her fingers against the side of her soda can. “I’ve never skied in my life.”

  “Yeah, I know. Not a great joke. Anyway, Frozen Dead Guy Days is Ned’s big festival, the main thing each winter.”

  “Some kind of zombie thing?”

  “No,” Hannah said. “There was this guy, and his grandfather died, and instead of burying him, he put the old guy in a big block of ice, and he’s still there, like a hundred years later, somewhere outside of town.”

  Magda raised an eyebrow. “Is that for real?”

  “Sounds crazy, but it’s all true. There’s like this real frozen guy in a Tuff Shed somewhere. So this whole festival came up around it over the years. There’s a parade, and a polar bear plunge, coffin races and a big party throughout town over the weekend. Tons of people. It’s a lot of fun. Lilah doesn’t like it, but she lets us go anyway.”

  Magda nodded, but didn’t add anything to the conversation. An uncomfortable silence followed, and Hannah knew what Magda was thinking. Hannah didn’t want her to bring it up, but they couldn’t avoid speaking about it, so she waited for Magda to start.

  “Are you okay with what happened in the kitchen this morning?” Magda said.

  Hannah had to be careful about her answer. Of everyone in the house, aside from that weird guy Eagle, Magda was maybe the most fervent and steadfast believer in Cyrus’ teachings, and by extension, Lilah’s commands. Or, maybe Eagle wasn’t devout at all. Difficult to tell with that creepy old man.

  “I know that Lilah can be harsh sometimes, but I also know she has a greater purpose.”

  Magda eyed her, and for a moment, Hannah thought she’d blown it all. This would lead to suspicion, to questions, and they would find out about the baby growing inside her, and then who knew what would happen next. She struggled to find something else to say to reaffirm her faith in the True Manna, but nothing came to mind. Her hands instinctively fell to her stomach, which felt bloated and bulbous to her today. But that was paranoia. The bump wasn’t actually yet noticeable, and the green work vest helped hide the hint of a curve on her formerly flat stomach.

  “Yeah,” Magda said. “Greater purpose. I like the way you put it.”

  Hannah relaxed a bit, but still wanted to change the subject as quickly as possible now that the topic seemed done. “We haven’t talked about Micah. Must be good to have your brother here with you, right? Kinda funny how he showed up out of nowhere.”

  Magda flicked her thumb at the soda’s pop top, making it twang like plucking a guitar string. “Micah. I always knew him as Michael. The name change is new, and kinda weird.”

  Hannah frowned, not sure what to make of that.

  “I’m honestly not sure how I feel about it yet,” Magda said. “He’s always been a manipulator, and even though he says he’s not drinking now, he’s said that before. Like him calling in sick to work today. Don’t ask me why, but I just feel like he’s lying about that. It’s exactly like the kind of thing he used to do.”

  Hannah had trouble reading the situation. Was she not glad to be around him? Hannah didn’t know anything about Micah having problems with alcohol, but he seemed like a nice enough sort of guy. Hadn’t seen him stumbling around the house drunk. He at least didn’t look at her with creepy bedroom eyes the way Eagle did.

  Maybe Magda needed encouragement, to open herself up to trusting him. “If he’s here, doesn’t that say he wants to be better? To learn about the Bible? I mean, if actions count bigger than words.”

  “Could be, but I don’t know if it matters. He and I have… not a good history, you could say. Something happened, a long time ago.” Magda paused, caught herself. “I actually don’t know why I said that just no
w, because I don’t really want to talk about it, to be honest. Plus, he’s been relentlessly trying to get me to…”

  Magda drifted off without finishing the thought. Whatever it was, she looked embarrassed at having said that much.

  Hannah caught a flash of black across the street as Father Benedict strolled along the sidewalk by the indoor carousel, hands behind his back, looking around like he had no particular place to go. Maybe out for a morning stroll in the brisk March cold.

  Hannah eyed Magda, but it didn’t seem as if she’d noticed the priest. It was a risk, but as she watched him meander along the street, she had an intense desire to speak with him. That this might be the only time she could.

  “I’ll be right back,” Hannah said, and jumped to her feet, knocking her empty Sprite can over on the table.

  She hurried across the street, trying to keep Benedict in her line of sight. The town was a little thicker than usual with tourists today, so she blended into the crowd with no trouble. When she was sure she was out of Magda’s range, she started weaving through people to get to the priest.

  Up ahead, Benedict turned into an alley, which Hannah knew led to a path to the church. She had to catch him before then, because she couldn’t be seen inside the church anymore, in case it got back to Lilah. That was a risk bigger than she was willing to take.

  “Father,” she said as she entered the alley, and he stopped short. She cast a look behind, and people were tramping up and down the sidewalk. She couldn’t be seen here talking with him, either.

  Benedict started to turn, but she thrust out her hands and said, “wait. Don’t turn around. Go around the corner, please.”

  He paused, but then did as she asked. He disappeared around the side of the brick building. She hustled to the edge, leaning up against it. Where the alley ended opened up to a hill, but it was away from the eyes of the people on the street. Nothing but the houses on the hills and the mountain peaks behind them in sight.

  “Are you there?” she said.

  “I’m here,” he said, his reassuring voice close. “Is that you, Hannah?”

  “I know this seems crazy, talking around the corner of a building like this. I didn’t have time to think it through.”

  “Right here is fine.”

  “It’s just that I can’t come to the church anymore.”

  “I understand. What did you want to talk about?”

  “It’s getting worse,” Hannah said. “She’s listening in on our phone calls, then she talks to us after. She tells us what we did wrong, how our parents and friends are agents of Babylon. I mean, she used to, but now she says we’re not allowed any calls at all anymore. She hurt my husband this morning. She threw him against a wall in the house, and we couldn’t do anything to stop it. I thought she was going to kill him… I really did. But what was I supposed to do?”

  He paused. “I’ve done some research on this Lilah Wentworth woman who owns the house you’re staying at. She’s unstable, Hannah. She’s been hospitalized many times. If she’s been violent, then I think we have to call the police.”

  “No, we can’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because Eagle is one of them. Volunteer, or part time, or something. I don’t know. But he’s a cop so we can’t do anything without him knowing, and if he knows, then Lilah knows.”

  Hannah listened to Benedict sigh, and she gripped the edge of the building. Nausea rose up through her belly, and she regretted drinking the Sprite so quickly. Her fingers traced imperfections in the bricks, and wished she could rip one out to take it home, so she could throw it at Lilah. Smack her brains right out of her head.

  The anger startled her.

  “If we can’t tell anyone, then we need to get you out of there,” he said. “Quickly and quietly.”

  “My husband Garrett, too.”

  “We can do that,” Benedict said. “Does she still have your passports?”

  Tears flowed down Hannah’s cheeks. “Yes. I think they’re in a lockbox she keeps in her room.”

  “You have to get them back. Do whatever you need to do, but get those passports.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  8 DAYS UNTIL

  The folded collection of printed websites in Micah’s back pocket made weird crinkling sounds as he strolled up and down the aisles of the hardware store. Micah had come in early today, since he wanted to catch Magda before her shift started. Rising early was getting easier and easier. Plus, first dibs on the bathroom had guaranteed him a shower with hot water.

  Cold house plus cold shower equaled grumpy morning.

  As he stooped to pick up a few stray 3/4-inch screws that someone had spilled on the floor, footsteps halted in front of him.

  “Morning, Micah,” his boss Walter said.

  Micah straightened up and flashed a smile. “Morning, sir.”

  “Feeling better?”

  “Definitely. I had some kind of 24-hour stomach bug, I think. I’ll spare you the details, if you know what I mean.”

  Micah was hoping for a laugh to deflect attention, but Walter didn’t buy it. He pursed his lips, then took a few breaths before speaking.

  “Whatever you do when you’re not working… that’s your business.”

  “Okay,” Micah said, and he had a feeling where this was going. This kind of grim seriousness was unusual for Walt.

  “I know what goes on in that house on Caribou Road. And also what comes out of there. I hope you understand that when you come to work, you need to keep your personal beliefs to yourself. You’re new here, and I’ll share with you that I’ve had this same conversation with Hannah and Magda.”

  Did everyone in town think Micah and his housemates were ranting lunatics, condemning every non-believer to eternal damnation with every breath?

  “I understand. You don’t have to worry about me.”

  “Oh, also, we need to talk about your paperwork. There was a problem with your social.” He leaned in close, to speak in confidence. “Your background check finally came back, but it had some errors on it. It’s probably nothing, but, you know. We have to make sure everything is neat and tidy for Uncle Sam.”

  Micah had written down a fake social security number when he’d applied for the job. “Sure, Walt. I’ll stop by later and take a look at it.”

  Walter nodded, then the overhead speaker squawked a message about a phone call waiting for him in his office, so he waddled away without saying anything else.

  Once he left, Micah hurried to the break room to check for Magda. He recognized her by the back of her head, seated at one of the four circular tables. She was sipping a styrofoam cup of coffee, with Sunday’s cartoon section in front of her.

  Magda used to take immaculate care of her hair, often spending way too long in the bathroom in the mornings, making them late for school. Lately, her brown locks seemed more frizzy and less sculpted. Split ends, wayward strands not following the grain, often imprisoned in a lazy ponytail or knotted in a bun.

  Micah unfolded the printouts from his back pocket, and placed the first one on top of Magda’s newspaper. An article about how cult leader Jim Jonesused examples from George Orwell’s 1984 to gain enough influence over his followers to get them to drink cyanide-laced Kool-Aid. Before Magda could say anything, he threw down a second article about David Koresh’s molestation of young women. And he dropped three more in front of her in rapid succession, then he slammed down his closing argument, the printed screenshot of Lilah’s browser history. The array of evidence gleaming black and white on the table.

  “What is this?” Magda said.

  “This is how Lilah has been spending her free time. Learning how to manipulate and control everyone in the house. She’s not a good person, Mags. You don’t want to believe me when I tell you it’s not safe here? This is your proof.”

  Magda spun in her chair and glared at him. The fire in her eyes, the same anger as the countless times when they were younger, when she’d caught him in one of his dr
unken lies. “How did you get this?”

  “That’s not important. Look at it. Look at what she’s been doing.”

  “Did you sneak into her room and get on her computer?”

  Micah felt his argument slipping away from him. “You’re missing the point. It doesn’t matter how I got it because it doesn’t change what she’s been doing. She’s trying to brainwash you and Rodney and everyone else into thinking this Cyrus guy is the second coming of Jesus. Can’t you see how messed up that is?”

  Magda clenched the printouts in her hand, shot up, and dumped them in the recycling bin next to the coffee machine. Then she stomped back to Micah with her eyes narrowed. “Michael McBriar—or whatever the hell you’re calling yourself now—you are a liar and a thief. You invaded her personal space without permission, and have proven that no matter what you say, you haven’t changed a bit.”

  “Magda, wait. Please. Hear me out.”

  She reached out a hand to push him aside, but caught herself at the last second before she touched him. The last time their skin had come into contact, Lilah backhanded Magda for it. And now, even though Lilah wasn’t here, Magda was still so deeply under her control that she couldn’t touch him.

  Instead, she dodged left to get past him, leaving Micah behind in the breakroom.

  He then noticed he wasn’t actually alone in the room. At a table near the back, next to the fridge, sat a scrawny and pimply-faced kid with purple hair. Micah had seen him around the store a few times, but didn’t know his name. He worked in the garden section at the far end.

  Purple Hair was shaking his head, tossing Micah a look of pity.

  “What?” Micah said.

  “You people.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  The kid tilted a styrofoam cup toward his face, flinging some ice chunks into his mouth. Metal tongue piercing shining under the fluorescent lights. As he crunched the ice, he said, “buncha freaks, man. You know God isn’t real, right? He’s like Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny. You people rant around town with your fire and brimstone bullshit, trying to scare people. It’s all shame-based crap keeping your believers in the stone age.”