by Jim Heskett
Cyrus closed his eyes and leaned back into the headrest, then he shot a hand out and punched Lilah in the jaw. She swerved, barely managing not to hit the car in the lane next to her. Needles spread across the lower half of her face.
“You stupid cunt,” Cyrus said. “How could you let this happen?”
The word hurt more than the attack had. She lashed out. “I brought him to meet with you right after he moved in! You said he was going to be one of God’s best soldiers someday. Maybe I couldn’t see it, but you couldn’t either.”
Cyrus closed his eyes and folded his hands in his lap. Let the anger die a little before he spoke again. “When we get home, we need to gather our things and leave again immediately.”
“Eagle is making arrangements. He’s going to find the others and take care of them. I’m not sure what they might have seen.” She didn’t mention that she’d had a chance to kill Micah yesterday, but hadn’t done it because she’d been too upset to think straight. “When he’s done with that, he’s going to pack our friend in the basement for us. If we get everything out, we won’t need to leave. They have nothing on us.”
“I don’t trust Eagle any longer, either. He will not be coming with us.”
Lilah squeezed the steering wheel so hard it made her hands ache. “He’s the only person we have left on our side, and no, he’s not coming with us. He’s doing something else that’s equally as important.”
Cyrus looked at her for the first time. The lines around his eyes and his mouth, the signs of his age and mortality. He seemed to have grown ten years older in the last few days.
“When we get to town,” he said, “we need to burn the priest’s church to the ground.”
She huffed. “The priest isn’t the problem. He’s not the reason the website has failed. Come on, Cyrus, that was ludicrous. It made sense at first, but the more I thought about it, what could he do? What power would he have to stop the Truth?”
He smacked her again, but this time, she moved her head at the last second to avoid most of the blow.
***
As Micah watched Seth across the street, he sunk back into the crowd and took his phone from his pocket. He had 3% battery left, which should get him a minute or two of phone time.
Seth was standing with two other people, each of them holding huge mugs of beer, watching the parade of ghoulish hearses creep along First Street. The parade moved along this short road, from the lower end of the hill to the east, which led down to Chipeta Park and the reservoir. The show ended a few blocks west at the top of First, where a roundabout emptied into a parking lot next to the town visitor center. The three or four hundred people watching the parade crowded along little strips of sidewalk on either side of First, standing under the awnings of restaurants and tourist shops.
Seth and his two companions cracked jokes and glugged their beers, punching each other in the shoulders. Passed a joint between them. They all three dipped their sunglasses when a hearse full of girls in skimpy clothes came up next in the parade line.
Micah keyed in the phone number.
Frank cleared his throat in a wet hack before speaking. “Hey, kid. Was wondering when I was going to hear from you again. You do what you needed to do with your sister?”
“No, that didn’t work out. My phone’s about to die, so I can’t get into it right now. But I have a more immediate problem. I’m still in Ned at this festival, and I’m staring at Seth across the street from me. I need your help, Frank.”
“What you ought to do is stay the hell away from him. Maybe he looks like some small-timer, but I found out he’s into some nasty business. Got more than a couple warrants out for him in Colorado, so the best thing you can do is call the cops and let him be. Let them take care of it.”
Micah opened his mouth to speak, but his phone emitted three quick beeps and the call ended. He looked down at the screen, displaying an empty battery icon with a tiny puddle of red at the bottom. Spending three weeks in Lilah’s safe had drained his battery, even in standby mode.
Across the street, a young man hoisted a young woman onto his shoulders, and the girl lifted up her sweatshirt, letting her braless boobs out into the chilly mountain air. She howled, shaking them back and forth. A few dozen people in the crowd noticed, then cheered and snapped pictures.
A cop fifty feet away lifted his flashlight and shined it in the girl’s face. She winced away from the light, lowered her sweatshirt, and slid down from the guy’s shoulders.
Interesting. Micah hadn’t seen any other cops out here yet today. Were they hidden back in the crowds, trying not to draw attention to themselves?
Seth and his two buddies turned away and pushed through the crowd, going in the direction of one of the beer tents closer to the park. Micah had an irresistible urge to follow him and see what would happen.
As Micah darted between two groups of coffin racing contestants, then mixed in with the crowd on the other side, a bolt of inspiration struck. He knew exactly what to do about Seth and Lilah, to take care of both of them in one fell swoop.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Lilah drove up Canyon toward Nederland, and the traffic slowed to a crawl as soon as they entered the mountains. She spotted the turnoff for Magnolia Road, a winding and steep drive up to a ridge that overlooked most of central Colorado.
Her jaw pulsed and ached. Cyrus had hit her half a dozen times between Limon and here. Each time, she went inside herself and questioned why she was doing this. Why she let him treat her this way, and how much longer she could endure it.
She flicked on her turn signal and slowed to exit onto Magnolia. Cyrus had not stopped talking for the last hour, spewing about the True Manna website and his plan to fix it now that he was back and running the show. How they would burn the Catholic church to the ground to keep the priest at bay, and then they would fly to New York and demand to be on television so they could tell the whole world how sin would pull them all into the pit.
“What are you doing?” he said in mid-rant. “This isn’t the way back to Ned.”
She turned at the first hairpin curve, at an angle so steep she had to drop down into first gear to get momentum. She spun the steering wheel all the way to the right to stay on the road. “We need to talk before we go home.”
“Like hell we do. Turn around and get us back on Canyon. Whatever you want to talk about, it can wait until later.”
“No,” she said as she rounded the next turn, then slowed to enter a pullout next to the road. Gravel crunched under the car’s tires as she stopped and killed the engine. She’d parked in a small open area, with trees clogging the space beyond the turnout to the right. On the other side of the road, a steep cliff led a few hundred feet down into the canyon.
He unbuckled his seat belt and faced her. “Turn around, right now, Shekinah. I have had enough of you delaying us. What is it you’re keeping from me back at this house you love so much?”
Tears burned at the corners of her eyes. “It’s not the house I love, Cyrus, it’s you. I’ve done everything for you, made every possible sacrifice, and I still don’t understand why you treat me this way.”
He waved his hands around in his seat, making the car rock on its tires. “Treat you what way? What are you rambling about?”
He made a grab at the keys dangling from the ignition, but Lilah snatched them first and shoved them in her pocket.
“Listen to me,” she said. “I want us to make all decisions together. We’re supposed to be man and wife, but you don’t give me the respect I deserve.”
“Man and wife,” he muttered. “Start this car right now. I’m not going to tell you again.”
“No. Not until you hear what I have to say.”
He lunged across the seat and wrapped a hand around her throat. His thumb dug into her windpipe, pressing, and immediately her vision filled with stars. Head pounded. Couldn’t breathe.
For a few seconds, she did nothing. Couldn’t believe this was happening to her. Then insti
nct took over, and she noticed Cyrus’ tongue was sticking out between his bared teeth, and she punched him under his jaw with her free hand. His teeth chomped down on his tongue, blood spurting from his mouth.
“Why did you make me do that?” she said.
“You stupid bitch,” he said through a mouthful of blood. “I’ll kill you for that.”
Lilah’s eyes landed on a nailgun in the back seat. Eagle must have put it there.
Cyrus continued to boil as blood dripped from his mouth. Babbling, speaking gibberish, in a rage like she’d never seen before. He thrust a hand out to choke her, trying to get his bloody fingers around her throat.
On impulse, she snatched the nailgun and found the trigger as Cyrus grunted and reached for her again.
In one quick motion, she lifted the nailgun and put it to Cyrus’ forehead. Depressed the safety and pulled the trigger. Didn’t even think about what was about to happen, only felt the driven need to protect herself.
The nailgun kicked back against her hand, and a quarter-inch hunk of metal jutted from Cyrus’ forehead. Blood dotted the hole, quickly dribbling down from it.
For a moment, all the world turned numb and cold. She had injured the lamb. She had struck him, and now he bled. His life was pouring out of his forehead. Burgundy red, warm, cooling in the air inside this car.
Her skin was on fire. She had never thought she could have risen up against him like this. Not possible.
He screamed again, and his eyes went cross trying to look up at his own forehead. Without thinking, Lilah pressed the nailgun against his face and jabbed five more nails into him. The recoil of the nailgun made the nails trail down from his temple along his cheek. The spatters of blood sprayed her face and clothes.
Blood leaked from the holes in his head. His hands closed over the wounds, but the blood kept coming faster and faster, and his hands became a red mess. His cries turned into wails.
Bile billowed up through her throat and ejected from her mouth, spraying down her shirt and onto her arms. That sick and sour wince at the back of her throat brought saliva welling until her mouth was filled.
He stilled, and she thought he might be dead.
Then his body jerked once, twice, and he waved his hands and arms frantically as he tried to pull the nails from his head. He gave up and reached across, desperately grabbing at her face and clothes. She felt the blood on his hands smear on her skin.
Cyrus’ blood, touching her flesh. Entering it and becoming a part of her.
Lilah opened her door and rounded the car, shaking with tears and panic. The nailgun clattered in her hand. She hadn’t wanted to shoot him. Why did he make her do that? Why wouldn’t he listen?
“This is your fault,” she shouted through the car window, tears burning her cheeks. “I love you with all my heart, and you’re a monster. How could I love a monster?”
The vomit coating her chin and neck congealed in the cool air. She shivered.
Lilah opened Cyrus’ car door and grabbed his button down shirt, now not so blue. She dragged him out of the car and his body thudded into the gravel next to the car. Blood had smeared all over her arms and pants.
That crisp smell of the trees invaded her nose. Such an intoxicating scent, to be outside in the fresh air, to breathe the clean oxygen the trees provided for her.
His chest continued to rise and fall even though his eyes were now closed. He was dying. The lamb of God shouldn’t be able to die, but here he was, bleeding out on the ground.
Not immortal. Not omnipotent.
His eyes opened, full of fire, and he reached for her, so she held the nailgun to his chest and squeezed the trigger until the rest of the nails passed into his heart. Didn’t think about it. Just acted.
Wanted him dead. Wanted his poison gone from the earth.
She watched the blood continue to spread from the wounds in his chest. Maybe he wasn’t the anointed one, after all. Maybe he was never able to understand the scriptures as he’d claimed.
***
Micah checked the time on the clock over the Chamber of Commerce building. Since today was the day Cyrus was getting out of prison, he had to assume Lilah would have gone to get him at the usual release time of nine a.m., which meant she should be getting back into town about now.
Everything in Micah’s plan hinged on Lilah and Cyrus coming to this festival as soon as possible. Everyone in the same place at the same time. If she took him home instead, then it wouldn’t work. If Seth decided to take off and left before she arrived, it wouldn’t work.
If that stupid redheaded idiot with the sock full of quarters reappeared and drew attention to Micah, the plan would not work. Way too many variables.
Micah felt powerless, standing around with no phone and no means to defend himself, keeping an eye on Seth as he and his buddies swilled beer under a heated tent. Observing. He hated that his plan was so tenuous, but it seemed to be the only thing he had left.
Then another wrinkle appeared.
He spotted Magda across the street, watching the parade. She was standing alone among the crowd, her arms hugging her sides, her face forlorn. Hannah and Magda had taken the day off work to come here for the festival, so maybe Magda was hoping to meet Hannah out here on the street, oblivious to the fact that Hannah had already bolted and was on her way out of town. Maybe already out of the country.
Micah didn’t know if he should try to get Magda’s attention or stay hidden. Would she lash out at him, scream his name, give away his position to Seth?
No, she shouldn’t see him yet. Once he’d taken care of Seth and Lilah, then he would deal with Magda. Or maybe he’d need to block her from joining the inevitable scrum.
A group of coffin racers came trotting along the street, dressed as Star Wars characters, each of them holding one corner of a coffin resembling a space ship. Han Solo, Chewbacca, Darth Vader, and Boba Fett.
The person inside the Boba Fett costume turned his helmeted head toward Micah and nodded, and Micah gave him a salute in return. The unspoken Boba Fett kinship salute.
And then, Micah noticed Eagle’s tall and dark frame through the crowd, on a path seemingly toward Magda. That sweeping black duster swishing from side to side as he pushed through the people.
Looked like Micah wouldn’t be able to keep Magda out of this for now, if that’s where Eagle was headed.
Eagle threw back his jacket and raised his arm. He was carrying the same nailgun Micah had sold him, his finger curled around the trigger.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Lilah parked in front of 1623 Caribou, feeling the anxiety of stillness when she killed the engine. All the cars were gone except for Rodney’s. The trees that provided the natural fence around the house seemed closer. Looming. Leaning over it, as if they would come alive and start thrashing their branches, tamping the house into the ground.
She stumbled from her car, her chest heaving and legs weak. Vomit and Cyrus’ blood had dried on her neck and face, and she could feel it peel and flake as she turned her head to look around the property. Tracks through the snow everywhere. Feet, and tires, and the little paws of animals.
She felt eyes on her, boring into her, examining her. There was no movement through the woods or up the hill behind the house, but it didn’t feel right.
No longer safe. No longer home.
This building she’d called her own for the last eight years had become just another collection of wood and concrete, a place others would soon call home. Where someone would decide they no longer wanted the beautiful grandfather clock or other elegant antique furniture. They would tear out the fireplace to put in something modern. Rip out the wood-burning stove. Destroy the roof to slap on solar panels.
Tarnish it with the riches of Babylon.
It would be only another house to those new owners. And whatever it became, it was no longer hers, and she had other things to worry about.
Had Eagle already killed Micah and the rest of them? Had he already removed everythi
ng from the basement? If he hadn’t yet cleaned out the basement, they were still at risk.
Instinct told her not to go into the house to check. If she did, she could become trapped in there. No, she needed to find Eagle, because he was the only one left who would understand. He was the only person she could trust.
She looked over at the nailgun in the passenger seat, streaked crimson with blood. She’d spent all the nails in the chamber. She crept away from the car and stumbled to the tree with the knotted root, the one where she and Eagle used to meet when they didn’t want to be heard in the house.
When they would talk about what life would be like when Cyrus came home.
Wasn’t ever coming home.
Bugs crawled up her back, pinched and bit at her spine.
The lamb was dead. Gone. Not the anointed one.
But then who was? Someone had to be the savior who would bring home the one hundred and forty-four thousand souls who craved salvation. Who deserved that honor?
Lilah dropped to her knees and brushed snow off a box nestled in the roots of the tree, then opened the box. Inside, a fully-loaded pistol looked back at her, shiny and ready to go.
***
Micah raced across the street, tumbling into a group of coffin racers dressed as Star Trek characters. He knocked Captain Kirk to the ground and Mr. Spock bellowed about the intrusion, but Micah didn’t bother with apologies, because Eagle had his eyes dead-set on Magda and was closing in on her.
He didn’t even look out of place with the nailgun. He seemed like any other freak out on the street this morning.
The crash with the coffin racers had drawn attention. Cheers and taunts from the crowd. When Micah finally freed himself of the screaming Star Trek group, he looked up to see his sister frowning at him.
“Magda,” he shouted. “Get away! Eagle is coming!”
