by Mark Deloy
“I can at least be an usher,” I said, and started guiding people to empty seats.
Jim smiled and nodded his head. “Alright, that’s good. Thank you,” he said, probably sensing I needed something to do.
I was trying to stay busy, trying to keep my mind off Kim and our conversation. It wasn’t working, but I thought it was still worth a try.
It took a bit longer than expected to get everyone into the tent. It was nearly 6:30 before Jim went up to the podium that sat up on the small altar. The tent was packed full with people standing all around the edges and at the two entrances. The big striped yellow tent had become a church tonight, with a huge congregation.
I stood near the back entrance. An attractive- looking brunette with a large camera slung around her neck stood beside me. She was writing in a spiral notebook.
“Reporter?” I asked. Normally, I wouldn’t just strike up a conversation with a stranger, especially an attractive one, but I’d killed most of a six-pack, had just found out I was going to be single for the first time in ten years, and I had nothing to lose.
She smiled at me. That was a good sign, I thought. I hadn’t even looked for a ring.
“Yes, I’m Lisa Grant. I work for the Buffalo River Review,” she said, tucking the notebook under her arm and extending one hand.
“I’m Hickory,” I said, taking her hand.
“Unusual name,” she remarked.
“It’s a family name. Most people call me Hick, which may or may not be a good thing in the South.”
She laughed again. Not loud, or long, but it was genuine.
“Are you a member of Reverend Burnside’s congregation?” Lisa asked. “Or the Baptist church in Columbia?”
She’d shown she’d done her homework by knowing the other congregation was here as well.
“Neither. I’m a friend of Jim’s. He invited me.”
“That’s nice. He seems like a nice man who wants to help the community.”
“I believe so, yes,” I said.
“My editor sent me out to cover this. I usually don’t do community pieces, but the paper has been short-handed, although, it’s a nice change from the political beat.”
“I bet. Although I’m sure with election season coming up in a few months, you’ll be back to covering Bubba Smith’s run for City Councilman.”
She laughed. She had a beautiful smile and a very nice body from what I could see. She was wearing a white silk blouse, a conservative, but above the knee, skirt, and short, stacked heels. She was a bit young for me, probably by ten years. But, what the hell? I was just talking to her.
“Wow,” Jim said, interrupting our conversation from the podium as he adjusted his mic and leaned down a bit. “This is truly a blessing for me, as well as the church, as I hope this revival can be for you. I’d like to get a few housekeeping items out of the way before we do anything. The land where you all stand belongs to a dear friend of mine, who is the grandson of another dear friend who has recently gone to be with our Lord and Savior. The use of this land, as well as this tent, were very graciously donated by Mr. Hickory Grimble.”
There was a hearty round of applause, and I was sure I’d blushed a bit. I raised a hand and smiled.
“That was nice of you,” Lisa said.
“Thank you,” I said. Twarn’t nuthin ma’am, I thought with a smile.
“Shall we pray?” Jim suggested and everyone bowed their heads, except Lisa, who was snapping pictures.
“Lord God, may we be guided by You and seek Your face during these services and may Your hand lead us forward. We come to you seeking a revival of our hearts and a renewal in our souls so we may be Your humble servants.”
Jim went on praying for another few minutes. When he was finished, one of the ushers brought me a seat, but I waved him off.
“Bad back,” I said. “I’d rather stand. Thank you, though.”
The man nodded and returned the seat to the corner of the room.
“I’d like to base tonight’s sermon on this verse: If my people will humble themselves, second Chronicles, 7:14.”
“But, first, I want to begin by reminding you what is meant when we talk about revival. As we said last week, revival does not come by design. God cannot be manipulated to send revival. It cannot be orchestrated or produced by the flesh. Revival is not the church deciding to do something. It is God deciding to do something to his church. Revival comes at the sovereign, gracious decision of God to send a fresh movement of His Spirit among His people.”
“Have you lived in the area long?” Lisa whispered.
“No, when my grandmother recently passed, she left me the house and this land. I’m from up North.”
“Does your wife like it down here?” she asked, looking down at my hand. I was still wearing my ring.
“In the process of a divorce, actually. She’s still up in New York.” We were in a full-blown conversation now and I was worried we’d be bothering everyone. No one seemed to notice, though, since we whispered.
“Ahh,” was all she said, but smiled at me again. I don’t normally get flirted with, so I didn’t let myself think that’s what it was, but I thought it rather ironic that right after my wife says she wants a divorce, a young, attractive woman starts making conversation with me.
We listened to the rest of the sermon together, but I stepped out when the worship service started. Jim did services backward from any others I’d attended. He had the sermon at the beginning, and the worship service at the end. Or perhaps that was how you did it at revivals. I didn’t know. I’d never been to one.
It sounded like the congregation was getting into it now. I heard a lot of “Praise Jesus” and “Yes Lords” coming from the tent. I had no idea what normal services were like at Reverend Jim’s church, but his revival sounded like it was going to be of the Pentecostal variety.
“Not much for singing?” Lisa inquired from behind me a few minutes later. She lit up a cigarette.
“Not much of a church person in general,” I responded.
“Just being polite?”
“Sort of. But I suppose I could use all the help I can get right now. Sorry, that sounded, eh.. pathetic.”
“No, you’re fine. I’ve been through it, about three years ago, and it was a bad one. Still is, actually. He’s still an asshole, anyway. I just don’t have to deal with him as much. Just every other weekend. I have a little boy, he’s six.”
“That’s nice. Why didn’t you bring him? He probably would have liked to play with the other kids. I’ll bet the daycare out back is packed full.”
The daycare, Jim had told me earlier, consisted of three older teenaged girls who took the little ones out in back of the tent to play games and keep them occupied. The back flap was open, so their parents could still see them.
“I really hadn’t thought about it. Work,” she said, and raised her camera in one hand.
“Yeah, but you should come, and bring him tomorrow, if you’re off the clock.
She smiled at that. I was obviously flirting now, and she didn’t seem to care. It all just seemed natural. I didn’t even have a buzz anymore, so I couldn’t blame the beer.
“Maybe I will. This place has good energy to it. Not just the revival, but the land.”
“My satellite installer would probably disagree with you,” I said, just talking to myself.
“What do you mean?” She was definitely a reporter at heart, latching onto the scent of a story like a bloodhound after a rabbit.
“I tried to have satellite installed, and the guy said something was interfering with the signal. Said he’d never seen anything like it before.”
“That’s strange, but I suppose living out in the country, it’s the price you pay.”
“I suppose so.”
“It was nice meeting you. I’m going to go take some more pictures. People just love the ones of the congregation with their hands raised and sweat on their upturned faces.”
“You have a flair for
the dramatic,” I observed.
She laughed again and went back inside. I heard Jim start talking again ten minutes later and went back in myself.
Jim finished up the service with general announcements and invited everyone out to tomorrow night’s service, and also told them the schedule for the rest of the week. He then gave a final closing prayer and released everyone.
“Are you interviewing the Reverend?” I asked Lisa as the crowd dispersed.
“I already did, yesterday. Nice guy.”
“Yes, he is.
I walked Lisa to her car and she told me it was nice meeting me. I honestly didn’t expect to see her for tomorrow night’s services. I watched as she started navigating the mess of cars that always resulted after large events when people started to leave all at once.
I went back to the tent and waited for Jim to finish shaking hands and working the crowd like a popular politician. Girl might be getting anxious, I thought, and wanted to get back up to the house.
“I think it went great,” I said when I finally got a turn to talk to Burnside.
“I do, too. Everyone was very receptive of the message and I think the worship service went well. Tomorrow we are going to have a guitarist and a drummer. They were here from the other church and volunteered.”
“Great,” I said. “I’m getting pretty tired and I need to check on my dog. Thank you for the invite and the kind words earlier.”
“Thank you, son. Have a good rest of your night. I’ll be prayin’ for you.”
I walked back to the house on the side of the field so I wouldn’t get in anyone’s way as they navigated through traffic. When I got there, I came in the back door. Girl was waiting on me, thumping her tail and grinning.
“You hungry?” I asked, knowing it was a stupid question.
She thumped her tail some more and I got her some food out of the economy-sized bag of Purina in the pantry.
The last of the taillights exited the driveway around nine P.M. I was glad Jim had a successful service and wondered if Lisa would write good things about him. I thought she probably would. She seemed genuinely nice and thought her writing would probably reflect that, no matter what she was covering.
I sat for a bit, thinking about the strange outline I’d seen that morning. I made a mental note to bring the binoculars tomorrow on my walk. I knew I hadn’t just been seeing things.
I went to bed a little before ten. I was exhausted for some reason. Maybe it had to do with the emotional baggage I’d dealt with today, or maybe it was all the walking I’d done. But whatever it was, I was fast asleep shortly after I crawled into bed.
I woke up with my legs twitching madly and my body drenched in sweat. I wrestled the sheets off me and sat up. Everything hurt and there was a deep ache just above my stomach. I felt like a part of me was missing and I knew exactly what it was. The hole I’d dropped pills into for years was now empty and wanting. I went to the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face, then looked in the mirror. I looked surprisingly awake.
Girl didn’t get up, but I could see in the light the bathroom provided she had her eyes open and was watching me.
I decided to walk downstairs. I didn’t know why, I just had to move, do something, and try to keep my mind off the pills. I plodded down the steps and looked out the back window over the sink, half expecting one of the strange animals to be in the backyard, but nothing moved. The yards, and the field, as far as I could tell, were empty.
I turned on the faucet, got a glass of water, popped four Tylenol, and sat down on the couch in the dark. The house was silent. Girl hadn’t followed me downstairs, probably thinking I’d be back up shortly. Instead I lay down on the couch, thinking I’d just rest my eyes for a minute and let the Tylenol kick in.
12
I dreamed of the forest. It was spread out before me on all sides. There was a storm coming. I could see the dark clouds billowing through the treetops. A low rumble of thunder echoed out of the west. The wind picked up, bending some of the smaller trees over and rustling leaves.
There was a darkness up ahead, as if part of the forest had fallen into night. It looked like a moving black wall getting closer, wrapping the trees in inky darkness.
My feet felt glued to the black earth. Tree roots all around me started to vibrate, shaking off the packed dirt around them. They squirmed like snakes and I was afraid they’d try to wrap around me like killer plants in some cheesy horror movie. They didn’t come towards me, but pushed upward instead, pulling themselves out of the ground and toppling the trees they were supporting as a result. The forest seemed to be coming down around me. Huge oaks, maples and poplars crashed down everywhere. A ghost-white birch scraped my arm as it fell right next to me.
I looked up again and the darkness was getting closer. The air seemed to be getting thicker…. it was like breathing honey. I choked and then coughed. My feet were still stuck tight. I was beginning to panic, knowing whatever was happening, I was about to be caught up in it. More trees crashed down, sending wooden shrapnel up, cutting my face and arms. I screamed myself awake, right before the darkness enveloped me.
“Ah shit,” I swore, feeling like I’d been stung. I looked at my arm. There was a small, skinned place just below my elbow. I rubbed my eyes and felt something else painful on my face. I went into the downstairs bathroom and looked in the mirror. There was another scrape on my face. Neither injury was still bleeding. “What the hell? I muttered out loud.
I cleaned the wounds as well as I could. I didn’t have any first-aid supplies, but I wondered if Granny Ellen kept some. I hit the jackpot under the sink. There was a large white box with a red cross on the front of it. It had Band-Aids, gauze, Neosporin, aspirin, Benadryl, as well as three or four other over the counter medications. I looked through them, hoping for some oxy, or even some Hydrocodone. There was nothing, thank God. I was disappointed, but relieved at the same time.
I bandaged my arm and tried to will myself not to have withdrawals, which was futile now that I’d started thinking about the pills. I’d be glad when this feeling of twitchiness went away. That was the worst part of it. It was like aching and having the shakes at the same time. The slight pain in the lower part of my throat was back and my hands struggled to put the medical supplies back as I’d found them.
Maybe breakfast would help, I thought. I let Girl out to do her business and turned on the stove to cook some eggs. I’d also bought some bacon, so I cooked that as well.
I shared my bacon with Girl when she came back in from relieving herself. She seemed to appreciate the gesture by begging for more.
It was starting to cloud up a bit outside, making me remember my dream. I wanted to get back into the woods and see if I could find the structure again. It couldn’t be too difficult to find a house, or at least see the optical illusion of light and shadow that made me think it was a house. I’d also make sure we left the house pretty close to the same time as we had yesterday.
Girl was ready to go as soon as she saw me lacing up my tennis shoes. Dogs are creatures of habit. I rubbed her behind the ears, grabbed the Ruger and strapped on the belt and holster. I should probably do some target shooting with it one of these days to make sure it functioned properly and the sights were still aligned. I didn’t doubt the gun’s integrity. Papa had always kept his guns in pristine condition. He shot them quite a bit, but he also spent hours afterwards making sure they were cleaned and oiled.
It did remain cloudy as I walked, but there seemed to be no threat of rain. I thought about grabbing a jacket just in case, then decided I didn’t want to carry it. The temperature still hovered around seventy degrees.
I saw two rabbits and several squirrels as I walked. I figured Girl would chase the rabbits, but she just stood at attention for a minute, staring at them, then just watched them hop off into the underbrush.
I came to the end of the third field and entered the forest. It was eerily quiet today. I didn’t hear one bird, or see any more squirrels.
I wasn’t sure if they were just staying quiet in anticipation of the storm, or had sensed our presence and were hiding, watching us and staying quiet.
The stream where I’d seen the dark roofline was running a bit heavier this morning. I stood right about where I had the day before and looked into the trees on the hillside. There was nothing. No strange shadows, which looked like a structure, no bent tree limbs which resembled a house. There were just normal, everyday trees. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
“Hmm” I said aloud. I was stumped. Maybe I was going senile. I stretched my back, which had become stiff this morning, and wished for the hundredth time that I had a pill. As I was twisting, to stretch my lower back, I saw the roofline again. Only this time it was behind me, on the other side of the stream. Also, there was no mistaking it today… it was a house. Not only could I see the roofline, but I could see windows and planking on the outside. I pulled out my binoculars and focused them on the roof and then on the two windows that were visible between the thick trees.
This time I didn’t take my eyes off of it as I walked in the direction. I had gone twenty feet when I heard whimpering from behind me. I didn’t want to look back to see where Girl was, but I could tell from the soft whimpers that she hadn’t followed me.
“Come here, Girl,” I said, patting one leg, but still not taking my eyes off of the house. I was convinced the second I did, it would disappear again.
I kept walking toward it. I knew I was leaving my dog, but I didn’t see any other choice. I had to see what this thing was.
It came completely into view as I pushed through some thick bushes, scraping my arms, but not caring.
The house stood before me like a monument of decay. I was looking at the front side of it. I could see six windows from this angle. I counted three on the second floor, two on the ground floor and one under a dormer that must be the attic on the third floor. There were no shingles on the roof and ragged holes littered the slanted side I could see. There were no gutters and green moss grew along the roofline as if it was planted there. A splintery red door hung askew on its hinges, warped by age or moisture. The twisted boards, which served as siding, were a faded black or dark gray and mottled with black mold like cancerous lesions. The wind shifted, and I could smell the overpowering stench of its rot and ruin coming off the place like an open grave. There was no glass in any of the windows nor curtains or shutters. Most of the dark boards lining those windows had pulled away from them, leaving wide gaps, probably from getting wet, drying and then being soaked again. Some small saplings had grown against one side, and a large oak had fallen against the west side, but hadn’t crashed it in. It just rested on the house like a drunken man leaning on one of his buddies.
