The Gates of Babylon

by Michael Wallace

  Alfred let out an anguished cry. “I can’t stay here.”

  “Yes, you can. And where would you go anyway? You’re almost out of gas—you can’t get back to Colorado City.”

  “Woes shall go forth—a weeping, and wailing, and gnashing of teeth.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The doom of ages is upon us. We must meet it. Put on the armor of God and fight in His name.”

  “Let your children out, at least,” Eliza said. “You can do that, right? Then you and Jacob can sit down and discuss this.”

  “That’s right, Alfred,” Jacob said. “Don’t do anything—open up and we’ll talk.”

  There was a long moment of silence. Jacob stood, heart pounding, expecting to hear something awful from the other side of the door. Like gunshots.

  Eliza looked terrified. “Do something, Jacob,” she whispered.

  “Alfred?” he tried again.

  “It’s the Antichrist, Jacob.” Now his voice was flat, dead even. “He walks among us. Killing, murdering. We must stop him, you and I. You are the One Mighty and Strong and I will be your destroying angel.”

  “Alfred Christianson, open this door!”

  Instead, the back door opened on the opposite side of the motor home. By the time Jacob and Eliza came around, Alfred was nudging the last of his five children down the metal stairs, then locking up again before Jacob could get up and wedge his foot in the door. Alfred’s children were shaking and crying, and the oldest girl, about ten years old, took one look at Eliza and Jacob and burst into sobs.

  While Eliza drew the children away, offering words of comfort, Jacob circled the motor home, trying doors, calling for Alfred to open up, to come out and talk. He looked around for a rock to break the glass on the side door window.

  The motor home lurched forward. It spit up pebbles and crunched over sagebrush then rocked as it came back onto the road. It turned left toward the center of town, going slowly at first.

  Jacob ran after it. It came to a halt at the intersection and he almost caught up.

  “Alfred!”

  Straight along Third West would take the man north toward the Ghost Cliffs. Right would take him toward the quarantined block. The temple. The military.

  The Winnebago turned toward the temple. Its engine raced and it disappeared out of sight.

  No, Alfred. No.

  Jacob kept running and had almost reached the street where his cousin had turned, when the shouts came through the air. A split second later, the sound of a heavy machine gun. Jacob rounded the block to see the motor home burst through the military checkpoint. A machine gun nest tore into it from its bunker behind sandbags, but the gunfire had started late, as if the gunner hadn’t quite believed the motor home would ram the barricades.

  The gunner destroyed the tires, and the entire back end sagged, while the tire rims sparked on the pavement. Too late—the motor home swayed and slowed, but it had plenty of momentum as it hurtled the curb and lurched to the foot of the stairs that led up to the temple doors. The gunfire died.

  Half a dozen men stood at the top of the stone staircase. One of them was the tall, erect figure of General Lacroix. He had a radio in hand, a handful of men by his side, and wasn’t moving as the Winnebago rolled to a stop a few feet away.

  You are the One Mighty and Strong and I will be your destroying angel.

  Jacob threw himself to the ground. For a split second there was silence, and he thought maybe his instincts were wrong. He lifted his head. The motor home sat smoking. No sign of Alfred.

  A flash of light. A concussive boom. The motor home leaped into the air as if tossed by a giant hand. It came down in a dozen flaming pieces of metal and plastic. A fireball rolled skyward, and when it dissipated, the temple door was on fire. Men lay dead and dying. Others, screaming, crawling through burning wreckage, their clothing on fire.

  The second in command was a man named Colonel Inez, and he almost shot Jacob before he understood that the church leader was the only doctor in Blister Creek. When he realized Jacob was no threat, he allowed Jacob into the smoke-filled front lobby of the temple to help evacuate the building, which was threatening to go up in flames. Quick work with fire extinguishers got it under control.

  Jacob identified and gathered the survivors. With the temple clearing of smoke, he set up an OR in one of the sealing rooms and a burn unit in another. Assisted by two army medics, Jacob extracted one man’s ruptured spleen, removed a hunk of metal from another man’s skull, and stitched up several nasty cuts. There were six dead soldiers and three more missing, including General Lacroix. Eight men suffered serious injuries, including one man so terribly burned that Jacob could only administer morphine and wait for him to die.

  When Jacob finished with the last surgery, he came onto the front steps of the temple to find Inez waiting, his face smudged with soot, his eyebrows singed. He coughed and spat.

  “Is Barnaby going to make it?” Inez asked.

  “No, I’m sorry. I’ve done what I can to make him comfortable.”

  Inez nodded grimly. “How about Nguyen?”

  “He needs evacuation. If you can get him to a real hospital, he should pull through. There are several others who need more medical care than I can offer here. Do you have a medevac on the way?”

  “Half hour.”

  “Come inside,” Jacob said. “I want to check you out for smoke inhalation.”

  “Forget it, Christianson.”

  “You’ll feel better with some humidified air.”

  “Until those choppers get here, I need to keep an eye on my men. Make sure we don’t have a massacre.”

  Jacob followed his gaze to soldiers lined up with guns at the ready. The armored personnel carrier sat in front of the temple, with a man atop at the machine gun. They kept the entire block sealed, but dozens of people had gathered at each end to look at the temple, white stone blackened, huge oak doors yanked off the hinges and tossed to one side to burn in a charred, smoking heap. A crater gaped in the ground in front of the stairs. Hunks of debris lay scattered up and down the street.

  “This attack was carried out by one man,” Jacob said. “Bandits murdered his wives and he lost his mind. I tried to stop him.”

  “Let’s say I believe you,” Inez said. “What does that change?”

  “They’ll call it terrorism,” Jacob said. “The army will want revenge. Please, I can tell you’re a reasonable man. You have to plead our case.”

  “Why should I?”

  “Because you don’t want the blood of innocent people on your hands.”

  “Innocent?” Inez snorted. “I saw them massing for the attack when we came in. If the shoe were on the other foot—if you were the ones with the firepower, not us—would you be merciful?”

  “I would,” Jacob said firmly. “You can believe that or not. But the important thing is not what I would do, it’s what you will do.”

  “The medevac comes first, then the ground convoy. Two hundred men.”

  Jacob’s heart sank. “I see.”

  “But only to guard the evacuation. We’re abandoning Blister Creek.”

  “You are?” He could hardly believe it.

  “This adventure was General Lacroix’s idea. He had a certain… autonomy. Which he abused in this case, or so people are saying. But don’t get cocky. We’ve got two options on the table. First, a pair of B-52s fly over the valley. Each one carries seventy thousand pounds of ordnance. By the time they close their bomb bay doors, your town is smoking rubble. It will make an example for other would-be traitors and we won’t waste troops occupying a bunch of sagebrush and sand dunes.”

  Jacob’s mouth felt dry. “You would never be telling me this if that option were still on the table.”

  “True,” Inez said. “It’s not. We’re not so brutal as that. And sometimes harsh measures backfire, anyway. A firebreak that starts a brush fire.”

  “Option two?”

  “Quarantine.”

/>   “What does that mean?” Jacob asked warily.

  “It means Blister Creek is on its own this winter. Nobody comes, nobody leaves. The Army Corps of Engineers is sending crews to mine the roads. We’re going to put a couple of drones over the valley. You have twenty-four hours to round up any stragglers and then you’re done. After that, anyone tries to ride in or out and they’ll get a hellfire missile up their ass.”

  “What about electricity? Fuel?”

  “Don’t count on it.”

  “And what happens in spring?” Jacob asked.

  “I don’t know. Reoccupation, maybe. Or maybe this whole business is over and things start getting back to normal. That’s my vote.” Inez glanced behind him, through the gaping front doorway of the temple. “Are you done with my men?”

  “I’ve done everything I can.”

  “Then get the hell out of my sight. You’re in a restricted zone.”

  Jacob was thoughtful as he walked toward the checkpoint with his hands in the air. Did that mean they could keep the rest of their grain, or would the army send trucks to get it before sealing the valley? And was it just the valley, or could they get up to the reservoir, and into the surrounding mountains to hunt and cut timber? It would be a hard winter.

  But it could have been worse. Much worse.

  Eliza was waiting for him at the end of the block. She looked flushed and surprisingly happy. “I’ve got news,” she said. “Fernie is back.”

  Relief flooded through him.

  “And the boys?”

  “Them, too. They’re all safe.”

  He let out a long sigh of relief.

  “And more good news.” A big grin spread across her face.

  “Great, I could use some.”

  They pushed through the people clustered at the end of the block, with Jacob begging off questions. They headed toward home.

  When they were away from the crowds Jacob said, “Well? Don’t keep me in suspense.”

  Her smile was so wide it almost glowed. “I heard from Steve. He’s okay.”

  Jacob stopped and took her by the shoulders. “I’m so happy for you.”

  “They didn’t get all the medications on your list, but Steve rounded up most of it, including the Risperidone for Daniel’s schizophrenia. Plus all sorts of other stuff. Bandages, splints, CPAP machines, you name it.”

  “Wow, that’s… that’s great.”

  “Officer Trost and his daughter are on their way back now, loaded up with all of that, plus whatever they could fit from her storage unit. They already reached Cedar City and are coming over by police escort first thing in the morning.”

  A niggle of worry worked its way into Jacob’s gut. “Steve’s not with them?”

  “No, he’s coming separately. Agent Fayer is in trouble in California—Steve didn’t say what—and he’s on his way to L.A. But it’s okay, because he’s in a government caravan, and Fayer promised he’d be protected and promised they’d get him back to Blister Creek. Steve should be home by Sunday at the latest. Three more days—I can handle that. We won’t even have to change our wedding date.”

  Jacob dropped his hands from her shoulders and looked down at his feet.

  You have twenty-four hours to round up any stragglers and then you’re done. After that, anyone tries to ride in or out and they’ll get a hellfire missile up their ass.

  “Jacob?” Eliza stopped and studied him. “What’s wrong?”

  “Oh, Liz.” He took a deep breath and looked in her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Miriam was sick of lying in bed, stifled beneath quilts and blankets. She was sick of having Lillian bring her food, David helping her inch to the bathroom like a shaky old woman, sick of hearing people move through the house and knowing they were doing useful, productive work, while she was here in a four-poster stupor. And mostly she was sick of Jacob inspecting her injuries and shoveling pills into her mouth.

  And so, three days after she had returned to consciousness to find herself stitched up, perforated with tubes, and laid up in a forgotten corner of the Christianson home, she threw off the covers and put her feet on the floor. She grabbed the bedpost and maneuvered herself to her feet. Her other hand went to her back.

  “Well look at you, ignoring medical advice,” a voice said from the doorway.

  It was David, carrying a tray with a steaming bowl and a glass of water.

  “No more soup,” she said. “I’m sick of that slop.”

  “You want something else?”

  “Yes. Bacon. Eggs. Toast with way too much butter. Assuming my bowels can handle it. They’ve been rather sluggish.” She sighed. “As you and everyone else in Blister Creek seems to know.”

  He nodded with mock solemnity. “I have been dutifully reporting your bowel movements at sacrament meeting. Sister Charity prescribes eight ounces of prune juice three times daily. That’s how she keeps herself regular, and she insists it would work for you.”

  “So that’s the secret of her cheery disposition. Gallons of prune juice.”

  “All right, I’ll smuggle in some bacon.”

  “Does this mean you’re not going to send me back to bed?”

  “Would it do any good?”

  She smiled and blew him a kiss, then pulled off her nightgown, waving him off when he tried to help. “Nope, I’ll do it myself.”

  When Miriam reached down to peel back the bandage to look at the wound, she caught an unwelcome glimpse of her body. Already losing muscle tone in her legs, and her stomach had started to swell with the pregnancy. And where did those blue veins on her breasts come from?

  “Stop scowling,” David said. “You look beautiful.”

  “You’re a liar, of course. But thank you.”

  She made her way to the closet on her own, pulled out her bathrobe, and returned to the bed to sit down and put it on. Her husband kept watching as she did so and she found herself getting aroused by his gaze. A long time had passed since she’d felt even a twinge of desire. That could only be a good sign.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked.

  “Tired. My head is all fuzzy. But that’s not going away until I get moving.”

  “The pain?”

  “Mostly gone. A bit of soreness around the ribs is all. And when I take a deep breath. Jacob knows what he’s doing.”

  “Are you ready to talk yet?” he asked.

  Miriam shook her head. “Not really.”

  “I think it’s time.”

  “Go ahead, then. Get it out.”

  “You gave me a scare. Diego too. That kid needs his mom.”

  She didn’t respond for a long moment. When she did, her voice was soft. “I’m sorry, David.”

  “What was going on out there?”

  “A gunfight. I was careless at the end.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” He was so uncharacteristically calm and serious that it gave her pause.

  “I don’t know,” she admitted. “Something got into me. I was feeling… crazy. I don’t know if it was the pregnancy or…” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Why was this so hard? It’s not like she didn’t have feelings. Sharing them was another matter. “I don’t want to talk about it, but I have a feeling that I should. Eventually.”

  He hesitated, and when he spoke, he sounded cautious. “I think that would be a good idea.”

  She sat on the bed and gestured him over, then ran her fingers through his hair.

  “I can’t change who I am. But maybe I could work on the rough edges,” Miriam said. “You’ve changed a lot for me, and you deserve the same thing.”

  “I don’t want you to change. If I wanted a demure woman, I would have looked around Blister Creek until I found her. That’s not the kind of wife I want.”

  “About Lillian,” she began.

  “You still want to go through with it?”

  “I do,” she said. “I’m a little jealous, I admit it. I like her—a lot, in fact—but th
at’s different from imagining her in my husband’s bed.”

  “Then why don’t we forget about it for now. I’ll tell Lillian—”

  “Shh,” she interrupted and put her fingers over his lips. “She’ll be good for us. Assuming I can go easy on her, stop riding her so hard.”

  “Jacob doesn’t like it,” David said.

  One last out. One last excuse for her to say no.

  “Of course he doesn’t. But he can’t keep harping on personal choice for women without accepting that sometimes women will in fact choose polygamy.”

  “And you do? Choose it, I mean?”

  Miriam hesitated a long moment. “Yes, I do.” She pushed David to his feet. “Now, go get Eliza and Lillian and ask if they can help me into the bathroom. If I don’t get a real bath my skin is going to fall off.”

  The government cut the last phone lines on October 18, the day Eliza and Lillian helped Miriam bathe for the first time since the accident, after which the pregnant woman insisted on being taken out back for target shooting. They lost connection to the electric grid on October 28, but Jacob and David had been working frantically to repair and install the turbine at the bottom of the penstocks, which carried the creek down from the Ghost Cliffs below the dam. The power stayed on. Most of the time.

  The Women’s Council led an electric census of the valley, and by the end of the month there were no more electric ovens, heaters, microwaves, milking machines or other high-wattage devices that could be replaced with other means. Even so, when the sun went down or the breeze died, shutting down the valley’s limited solar and wind generation, the valley suffered sporadic blackouts as the hydro turbine failed to meet demand. A second pass removed superfluous lighting, and confiscated toasters and hair dryers.

  When Eliza went outside, she frequently heard a buzzing sound. A plane that looked something like a giant glider with a fat snout buzzed over the valley, usually so high it was almost invisible, but sometimes coming in a few hundred feet overhead. One night, when a warm spell had melted the snow from the roads, a distant boom sounded in the Ghost Cliffs, and in the morning Gale Anderson discovered two of her teenage boys missing. Turns out they had taken their father’s 4x4 and made a run for Panguitch. A hellfire missile left a smoking hole in the pavement and bits of wreckage from the truck.