by Pete Hautman
Time passes. The Village grows closer. I come to think that the wolf is truly gone, that it has gone off in search of more familiar prey. In any case, I am too exhausted to keep stopping and looking behind me. It occurs to me that the wolf may have been an avatar of Zerachiel, or of some dark lord. Or it may have been a hallucination, a dream, a waking nightmare. Is it possible to walk and dream at the same time? I cannot be certain. Not that it matters. I can only keep moving.
An eternity later, I see the faint glow of lights ahead. I can make out the shape of the Tower, a black cutout in the starry sky. I am in much pain, but it is easier to bear now that the Village is in sight. Only a few hundred more steps. I imagine myself in my mother’s arms.
The Hall of Enoch is ablaze with lights. It is unusual for it to be lit up so late at night. It takes me another eternity to limp up the walkway to the entrance. I push through the doors.
All the men of Nodd are gathered around the long table at the side of the room. I stand at the back of the hall, unnoticed.
“. . . in eighteen days they will come,” Enos is saying. “The politicians, the lawyers, the misguided, the heathens, the apostates, the degenerate — they come to Nodd to undo us with their lies and their hatred. We must gird ourselves. They must see us not as a threat, but as a people strong, determined, and righteous. Any sign of discontent will be reason for them to pry further into our affairs. We must present ourselves in the best possible light.”
“What of the boy?” asks Brother John.
For a moment I think he is talking about me, but Enos says, “Tobias is staying in Gracehome at present. Father Grace is working with him day and night. The boy will be ready by the time his uncle arrives.”
“And Brother Von?”
“Father Grace does not want Von disturbed by Worldly influences. He will be confined to the catacombs. We must present ourselves as cordial but strong. We will offer them our best food; we will allow them access to all areas save the Sacred Heart and the catacombs. We do not want them to perceive us as a threat, but at the same time we must show them that we are prepared to defend our rights.”
“The women will want to know how many are coming,” says Brother Peter.
“As many as gabble,” Enos says, “and dabble babble gubba.”
I shake my head. Is he speaking in tongues? My ears are buzzing. The floor seems to tilt. I clutch my crutch with both hands. One of the other men speaks meaningless noises that rattle against my ears. They are talking gibberish, and the air in the room is hot and moist and my head is floating. I open my mouth and a sound comes out, their faces turn toward me, and the floor rises to smite my face.
My mother’s hand.
I know it is my mother’s hand; her cool palm cups my forehead in that old familiar way. I feel safe, although I know not where I am, nor how I have come to be here.
“Jacob.” My mother’s voice. I open my eyes. My mother’s face, creased with worry, but smiling.
“Mom.” I have not called her Mom in years. She is Sister Elena Grace.
I look past her. I am in the infirmary, just off the nursery. I hear Sister Fara’s infant daughter, Mariah, crying on the other side of the wall.
“You have had quite an ordeal,” my mother says. “You slept the night and much of the day away.”
I raise my head and look down my blanketed body. My right leg is propped up, my heavily bandaged ankle sticking out from beneath the sheets.
“Is it broken?” I ask.
“Brother Samuel believes it is a bad sprain, with possibly a minor fracture. You will not be patrolling the fence anytime soon.”
Yesterday comes rushing back at me. My mother leans closer. “Are you all right?”
“I am fine,” I say. And I am fine. The decision of whether I should again meet with the Worldly girl is taken from me. It was Zerachiel who put that tree root on the path, where He knew I would fall and injure myself. The Lord has reached out His Hand to punish me for my transgressions, while at the same time saving me from myself.
“What happened, dear Jacob?”
“It was my own clumsiness. I tripped and fell.”
She smiles. “You must have stopped the fall with your face.”
I reach up a hand and feel my nose. It is tender. I would ask for a mirror, but that would be self-seeking and vain.
“That must have happened after I got back.”
“Yes, Brother Samuel said you passed out and fell during their meeting. Are you well enough to speak with Brother Enos? He has been asking after you.”
I nod.
My mother leaves, and I am left alone to wonder why my father has not come to see his son, who was conceived in sin. After a time, my thoughts wander beyond the borders of Nodd, and I think of Lynna. I am thinking of her when Brother Enos glides into the room to stand at the foot of my pallet.
“Brother Jacob. You look well, thanks be to the Lord.”
“And to Zerachiel’s hand on my back,” I say. My heart is pounding; it always seems to me that Enos can sense my thoughts.
“How did you injure yourself?” he asks.
“A tree root on the path. Where the fence line runs through the North Wood. I was careless.”
“Indeed. You must be more cautious in the future. What of your pack and your rifle?”
I tell him where I left them.
“I will send Gregory to fetch them. And what of the fence repair with which you were charged?”
“It was a small breach. A marmot, perhaps. It is repaired.”
Enos nods, satisfied.
“I hope the searchers were not out too late looking for me,” I say.
Enos gives a faint shrug. “We had not yet dispatched them. In truth, you were not missed, with all that is happening.”
I feel a sense of betrayal. Had I been injured more seriously I might have lain there all through the night.
“And what is happening?” I ask.
“In seventeen days, the World is coming to Nodd.”
That afternoon, Brother Wallace arrives with a pair of crutches, freshly made. Wallace does beautiful work. The crutches are made of fine ash, padded with leather and fleece. I use them to lift myself up off the pallet. Wallace looks at me critically as I stand before him on three legs.
“If they are too long, I can shorten them,” he says.
“They are perfect,” I say. “I thank you.”
He frowns. “Sit.” He takes the crutches from me and adjusts the handgrips. “Try now.” He hands them back to me.
I walk back and forth across the room.
“Even better,” I say.
He nods, believing me this time.
“Brother Enos tells me we have many visitors coming,” I say.
“He tells me that as well,” Wallace says sourly. “I have many chairs to build.”
With that, he turns and leaves.
Over the next days, Nodd becomes a hive of activity. Worldly folk will be coming with their wicked ways and sinful thoughts, and that frightens us, but at the same time, we are excited to show them the paradise we have built. Jerome and Luke put a fresh coat of paint on the North Gate, Brother Peter regrades the road, and Brother John distributes newly made clothing to everyone. Even Elder Abraham, who disdains vanity in all its forms, has consented to have his beard combed.
I have not seen Tobias. I am told he is staying in Gracehome, taking instruction from Father Grace, preparing for the visitation. I fear that when I see him again, Tobias will not be the Tobias I know.
I have been assigned whatever small tasks lie within my capabilities: assisting Brother Samuel in the infirmary, filing papers for Brother Caleb, helping in the laundry, and so forth. My hands are kept busy as my ankle heals and my mind roams. I am alone in the laundry one day, folding and bundling clean clothing destined for Menshome, when I hear my mother’s voice.
“You have a sure hand with those trousers, Brother.” It is her teasing voice. I am not surprised to find a smile upon her face
.
“It is not so difficult,” I say. “Even a Sister could do it.”
She laughs. “I will never understand how laundry became women’s work. Perhaps, after the Fall, Eve said to Adam, ‘I will wash your fig leaf if you will till the soil.’” As is often the case, my mother’s words verge upon blasphemy without quite crossing the line.
“If so, Adam made a poor bargain,” I say.
She laughs again and begins smoothing and folding items from the pile of clean clothing. Her movements are swift and deft; I feel clumsy by comparison. As we work, she talks. “It’s nice to see everyone working together to impress our Worldly visitors. This dreaded visitation might turn out to be a good thing for all of us. Nodd is like a sixteen-year-old girl getting ready for her first prom,” she says.
I don’t know what a prom is, and I am embarrassed to ask. I finish tying a bundle of clean trousers and slide them down the table.
“Brother Samuel tells me your ankle is healing well,” she says.
“It is much better,” I say.
“Your father worries about you.”
A spark of anger flares in my breast. “He did not visit me when I was abed.”
My mother touches me lightly, fingertips brushing my arm. “He did, Jacob. He was with you while you were dreaming. We sat together by your bedside and prayed for you all through the night. He had to leave for Helena that morning to meet with the congressman who will be visiting us. That is the only reason he was not with you when you awakened.”
I feel the sting of moisture in my eyes and look quickly away.
“He is in Omaha now. Brother Joseph and Sister Anna have left the Grace. Your father is closing the Omaha ministry. He will be home soon.”
I am surprised to hear this. I met Joseph and Anna only once, when they came to Nodd to view the Garden and take counsel with Father Grace. They seemed very devout; it is hard for me to imagine them becoming apostates.
“People come, people go,” my mother says. “It is their nature. But your father will be back in time for the visitation. He loves you, Jacob.”
I clear my throat, but I have nothing to say. My mother perceives my shame; her fingertips brush my arm again and she leaves me to my task.
By second Landay, I am able to put some weight on my ankle and get about using only a single crutch, but it will be many more weeks before I am able to resume my edge-walking duties. Gregory walks the fence in my place. I think of Lynna. Will she be there, waiting? Will she call out to Gregory, mistaking him for me? Will she offer him potato chips and orange soda?
That night, after Gregory returns from his walk, I sit with him at supper and ask him about his day.
“I walked,” he says shortly. “What do you think? There is the fence. There are marmots and coyotes and ravens. I walked, and now the day is gone. Were it not for your clumsiness I would not now be sore and exhausted.”
“Your walk was uneventful, then?”
“I didn’t fall and twist my ankle,” he says with an accusing glare. “Though you can be sure I kept a sharp lookout for wayward roots seeking to leap out and trip me.”
“Did you see any of the Rocking K folk?”
“One watched me from his machine as I passed. I ignored him.”
Lynna, I think. If she had been wearing her helmet, Gregory would not know her for a girl. I wonder what she thought, seeing him instead of me.
“Why do you ask?” He gives me a sideways look.
“I was wondering if any of them would be coming to the visitation,” I say.
Gregory shrugs and says, “Rumors are flying like mad locusts. It would not surprise me if the Archangel Zerachiel himself were to show up, along with Enoch and all his wives.”
It is a borderline blasphemous thing to say, but he is right. Rumors about the impending visit are rife; it is hard to know what to believe. Will says he heard from Brother John that they are coming with armed soldiers to take our women, while Samuel frets that Worldly doctors will wish to examine his medical credentials. Sister Dalva, who is in charge of the kitchens, is in a frenzy over how to prepare a feast for an unknown number of people.
Still, I credit what I have heard from Brother Enos, who visited the kitchens a few days ago. I had been put to work shelling beans and overheard him telling Dalva to expect at least a dozen, but not more than two dozen guests.
“Well?” Dalva crossed her arms. “What is it to be, then? Twelve or twenty-four?”
“It is uncertain,” Enos told her. “We know that Congressman Raney will be coming from Helena, along with several of his staff. The mayor of West Fork will be here, and the Landreau County sheriff, and Father Gerard from Saint Margaret’s, and the superintendent of the West Fork schools, and a reporter from the newspaper. We have extended invitations to our neighbors as well.”
We have only two adjacent neighbors: the Fort Landreau Indian Reservation and the Rocking K Ranch.
“Our visitors will include both men and women, but you need not set up separate dining areas.”
“I don’t understand,” Sister Dalva said. It was clear from her expression that she understood perfectly but did not like what she was hearing.
Enos pretended to not notice the scowl on Dalva’s features. “We will serve a midday supper in the Hall of Enoch. The Archcherubim, Elders, and their wives will join them. We will not be dividing according to gender, as the Worldly folk are not accustomed to dining apart. Our goal on this day is to make them as comfortable as possible.”
I think I understand. It is to be Babel Hour gone mad.
The day before the visitation, I am cleaning shelves in the infirmary when I sense someone watching me. Thinking it is Brother Samuel, I redouble my efforts.
“I heard you injured yourself, Brother.”
I turn to find Tobias standing behind me.
“Tobias! It is good to see you!” He is different. His face is pale from his time in the Pit, and his scalp has been shorn, a symbol of expiation. When his hair grows back, its length will signify the days of his righteousness.
“I am glad to see you as well, Brother.” He speaks slowly, spacing out his words. I peer closely at him and I am relieved to see that, unlike Brother Von, Tobias does not bear the scars of exorcism beneath his brow.
“Are you well?” I ask.
“Father Grace has explained much to me. I see now that I was wrong, and I have come to apologize to you.”
“To me? For what?”
“For leading you astray. Forgive me, Brother.”
I wonder at the change he has undergone. Could he be drugged? I do not think so, for his eyes would not then be so focused. He has spent weeks with the voice of Father Grace in his ears. We have all felt the relentless power of that voice; I cannot imagine it for hours and days on end.
“I should beg your forgiveness,” I say. “The error was mine.”
Tobias gives me a flat, expressionless stare, then nods. “I do forgive you, and I go now to the Heart to pray for you. Father Grace suggests that I speak the Arbor Prayer two score times daily.”
“That is a lot of praying. Your knees must be getting sore.”
“The time goes quickly.”
“Will you be returning to Menshome?”
“Father Grace wishes me to remain in Gracehome for now.”
“I hear your uncle will be visiting soon.”
“Yes. It will be good to see him.”
We stand there awkwardly. I do not know what to say. I am happy that Tobias has been released and that he has embraced the ways of the Grace, but I miss that which is missing.
“This afternoon I go to help Brother Peter cut thistles,” Tobias says.
The invasive Canada thistles are Brother Peter’s obsession. Every fall he cuts them back and poisons their roots with a powerful herbicide. Despite his efforts, each year there seem to be more.
“A task without end,” I say.
“It will end with the Coming,” Tobias says.
“Brother
Tobias!” Brother Samuel is glowering in the doorway. “What do you do here?”
Tobias ducks his head. “Apologies, Brother. I have not seen Jacob since before his accident. I came to wish him well.”
“As you can see, he is busy,” Samuel says. “Have you no chores of your own?”
“I do. My apologies, Brother.” Tobias leaves the infirmary, head down.
“I wonder at that one,” says Brother Samuel, looking after him.
The day of the visitation, I am put to work in the garage helping Brother Taylor clean and ready our two Jeeps and the ATV, as Brother Peter plans to take our visitors on a tour of our outer fields and pastures and wants nothing to go wrong. Brother Samuel has fashioned a new brace for my ankle, and I am able to hobble about using only a cane.
Brother Taylor is one of my favorite people to work with. He says little, but he is always friendly, knowledgeable, and patient. He puts me to work cleaning the interiors of the Jeeps. I am running a damp cloth over the dashboard of the green Jeep when Taylor says, “I was coming up the North Road a few days back when I saw what was either the biggest coyote ever, or a wolf. Might have been the same one you spotted last winter.”
I am surprised and glad to hear that someone else had spotted the wolf in Nodd. I had begun to think that I had imagined it.
“I saw it too, also along the North Road,” I say. “The beast paced me as I walked along the road the night I was injured.”
“It was not aggressive?”
“It seemed more curious than anything.”
“Wolves are smart,” Taylor says. “Smarter than people in some ways.”
“How do you know about wolves?” I ask.
“I know dogs, and a dog is but a wolf with some of the wild taken out. Back in the before days, I had a kennel. Wish we had a few dogs here, but Father Grace, he don’t like them. Never understood why. Onan, he’d do better if he had a dog.”
