“What d’ya know, they’re gettin’ dinner. You’re right, they’re stickin’ around.” He paused a moment. “Helluva’n offer, T.”
“It can be refined. And we’ll see what their paper looks like.”
“You think they already wrote up that contract?”
The preacher smiled. “Tell you what they didn’t do, they didn’t come all the way over here from Montana to shoot the shit, Mordie.”
Three hundred people packed the worship tent, fanning away the heat with newspapers and their hands. Harmon Jasper nodded to Penny, and she walked nervously to the front of the makeshift stage. She smiled sheepishly as, behind her, two teenagers, a girl on guitar and a boy on harmonica, struck up a slow, almost mournful beat. Penny’s voice trembled but it was clear and sweet.
In the RV the preacher stood next to an open window and listened, stirred and aroused by her innocence.
“Oh yes,” he said to himself.
When she finished, Harmon Jasper stepped up to the microphone. The two young people struck up “I’ll Fly Away.” The layman began a jig. The congregation started to clap their hands. A few voices joined the musicians.
“Some glad morning,
When this life is over,
I’ll fly away…”
By the second verse the congregation was in the mood. Foot-stomping and clapping, they all joined in the song.
Brother T closed the window and chuckled to himself.
“Time to dance,” he whispered. He gathered up his cane and Bible; his other props were already in place on the stage. He took Mordachai’s arm and they walked to the tent. As the singing ended, Brother T pulled back the flap and entered the tent, tapping his cane ahead of him. The congregation fell silent. Brother T walked alone onto the platform. He stopped when he felt the edge of the makeshift stage. He dropped the cane to the floor and his milky eyes stared out at the audience.
He held the Bible high over his head.
“Praise GOD!”
“Praise GOD!”
“Praise JESUS!”
“Praise JESUS!”
“The word…” his voice rasped, “is GOD!”
There were a few “Amens” from the audience.
“These are HARD times, friends. Hard, hard times.”
“Amen!”
“These are times that strain your faith….”
“Amen!”
“This is the time of Job.”
“Amen!” “Amen!”
“But… and hear me well… if you would deny God, then you best leave this place now, because God IS the word, and if you don’t believe that you can walk right out the door. Go out and get in your car and go home and stand in the darkness… because that’s all you got without God’s love.”
“Hallelujah!… Amen!”
He paused for a few moments.
“I am here to tell you if you believe, the Lord God will come through for you. He will stand by your side. He will guide you through this abyss. David tells you in Chapter Two: Is any among you afflicted? Let him pray! Is any sick among you? Let him call for the elders of the church; and let them pray over him, anointing him with oil in the name of the Lord… the prayer of faith shall save the sick, and the Lord shall raise him up…”
“Amen…. AMEN!!”
“Well, brothers and sisters, we are afflicted. Our hearts are sick. Why? Because this land is dying around us… only one thing can save us, one thing, brothers and sisters—FAITH. Faith in the Lord because, dear hearts, only faith will keep you strong. Only prayer will bring relief.”
“Amen!”
He threw the Bible down on the floor. It landed flat, spewing dust as it struck the platform.
“I don’t need the Bible to talk to you tonight. Don’t need scripture. Don’t need David, Mark, Luke, or John to tell you what’s comin’. You read about it every day. See it on your television. You see it when you look out the window. They’re burning a hole in the sky and the sun is burning up our fields and dryin’ up our streams and who’s lettin’ em do it? Who’s coverin’ it up? Your government, that’s who. And who is the government? The people you put in office. They’re afraid of offending the big business boys because they get all that PAC money and lobby money from ’em. And when your fields’re fallow and your streams’re dust, who’s gonna come take your farm away from you? The IRS, that’s who. The Infernal Revenue Service.”
The audience had fallen silent.
“They’re givin’ away our wilderness to the sawmillers. Look at your children… go ahead, look at ’em right now. Know why? Because they’re gonna suffocate to death if we don’t stop ’em. The trees put the oxygen in the air, and without it we’re all gonna die. The government’s mollycoddling the polluters with their wow-oxides and their di-oxides, telling ’em, ‘C’mon in, stink up the land, poison the water and air.’ Want to talk about Armageddon? Brothers and sisters, it’s right out there… in your burned-out land. Parousia is all about us. The Devil himself has brought his hell fires up and spread ’em across God’s bountiful land. T’ain’t fair…”
“AMEN!”
“T’ain’t right…”
“AMEN!”
“Pay one man for ploughin’ under his crop and take another man’s farm away from him when times’re hard. God is angry. God is sick of having His creation destroyed by greed.”
More “Amens.”
“I CANT HEAR YOU! I say, GOD IS THE WORD.”
“Amen!”
“Amen!”
“Amen!”
“Do you trust God? Do you trust the Lord?”
“Yeeees!”
“Good God A’mighty, He is with us tonight!”
“Amen!”
“God is here in this tent with us, neighbors. God loves us all, every man, woman, and child here together. We offer up this tune, it’s kind of the history of the world in three minutes. You know, brothers and sisters, every time I hear the news, this song makes more sense.”
The harmonica and guitar laid down the beat, a fast, foot-stomping beat. The guitar player closed her eyes and started singing:
“So often when men are blessed
with prosperity,
The goodness and mercy of God
They no longer see.
They sing the prayer with Him,
And offer up their pleas,
Then they turn away from God
And do just as they please.
Just as an eagle,
Serves her nest,
So that her young ones
Will have her best…”
The singing gathered energy. The louder they sang, the faster he danced. Hop, hop, skip, hop, hop, skip. Somewhere off to one side a woman raised both hands over her head and began speaking in tongues, then another joined, and another. The frenzy was building. The preacher danced toward the varnished boxes on the table near the pulpit.
Eyes widened, the tempo picked up. Nervous energy swept through the crowd.
As he approached the boxes, he saw Mordachai come into the tent. He was smacking his tambourine against his leg, looking back outside, up at the sky. He smacked the tambourine faster.
Brother T looked into one of the boxes. Two sand-colored rattlesnakes lay on the bottom of the box. He flung open the lid of the box. The furious rattling from within was drowned out by the singing, by the “Amens,” by the voices babbling in a strange unknown language.
The preacher raised his voice above the chaos:
“Mark, Chapter Fifteen. And these signs shall follow them that believe; in my name shall they cast out devils; they shall speak with new tongues; and they shall take up serpents…”
He plunged his hand into the box, grabbed one of the two rattlers by its middle, and lifted it out. He danced away from the box, petting the snake, feeling its muscles rippling against the palm of his hand, sticking out his tongue and letting the snake’s flitting tongue touch his.
The congregation went wild. Electricity seemed to flow from the rattling se
rpent into the crowd. He saw Penny, in the second row, eyes closed, head back, wildly clapping her hands. The preacher raised the snake over his head and continued to do his spastic jig.
He reached into the box, took up the other snake. He draped the first rattler around his neck, held the second out with both hands.
“Lord, your beleaguered servants beseech you, bring us the rain. We remember your words in James Five, dear God. Fear not, be glad and rejoice: for the LORD will do great things. For, lo, he that formeth the mountains, and createth the wind, and declareth unto man what is His thought, The LORD, The God of hosts, is His name.”
He heard the first pop on the tent above him, then another. He took one hand away, keeping the snake at arm’s length with one hand while he reached for the other, which seemed entranced as it dangled around his neck.
“Be not afraid, ye beasts of the field: for the pastures of the wilderness do spring, for the tree beareth her fruit, the fig tree and the vine do yield their strength. Rejoice in the LORD your God and He will cause to come down for you… the rain. And the floors shall be full of wheat, and the vats shall overflow with wine and oil…”
Then more drops. Like machine-gun fire, they began to pelt the tent. Outside, geysers of dust burst around the raindrops as they splattered the hard earth.
The preacher reached for the first snake, started to take it from his shoulders, and as he did the snake was roused from its stupor. Its head suddenly snapped up.
The neck curled back.
The hinged jaws sprang open.
The preacher saw it in slow motion. Mouth open almost 180 degrees. Fangs glistening with venom. Then it struck, a tawny streak, and bang! The fangs buried deep into his forearm.
It felt like someone had hit him in the arm with a baseball bat. He could feel the fangs puncturing deep into the muscle. Fire raced up his arm. The other snake turned its head toward the arm that held it, began to curl back.
The preacher grabbed the first snake just behind its jaws, squeezed, and ripped it out of his arm.
The crowd gasped. Several people screamed. Those close to the platform backed away.
“Don’t stop!” the preacher yelled. “Sing louder. Bring it down!”
Outside, Shrack, Granger, and the young sergeant watched from their car as the snake struck.
“Jesus!” Shrack said. Granger just stared in mute horror.
Pain streaked up the preacher’s arm and gnarled his shoulder. The venom burned deep in his flesh. His arm began to go numb. He thrust the first snake into the box. It slithered into a corner and coiled up, getting ready to strike again. He dropped the second snake on top of it, distracting it for a moment, and closed the lid of the box.
Mordie and Harmon Jasper rushed to his side.
“Keep it going, keep it going,” he gasped to Jasper, and to Mordachai, “Get me outside.”
Jasper grabbed the mike and began singing louder as Mordie led Brother T through the rear flap of the tent.
Lightning cut a jagged, orange path across the sky. The rain poured down.
“I’ll get ya to the RV.”
“No,” the preacher said, his voice pinched and weak. “Over on the table. Want to feel the rain. I’m on fire.”
“How bad is it?”
“Forgot how bad it hurts.” He was gasping for breath. “Squeezin’ my chest.”
Mordie swept paper plates, bottles of ketchup, and napkins off the tabletop and helped the stricken preacher lie down. He lay on his back, ripped open his caftan almost to his waist. His arms fell out at his sides as though he was embracing the fury of the storm.
“Feels good, Mordie. Rain feels good.”
“How about you. How do you feel?”
“Numb. I feel… far away.”
“Hang in there, old buddy.”
“Keep ’em singin’, Mordie. Get the baskets goin’ around. Tell ’em I’m out here for them—doing battle with the Devil.”
In the touring car the three men watched the drama playing out next to the prayer tent.
Shrack took out a cigar, tore off the wrapper, and bit off the end, spitting the nip of tobacco out the window. “He should have a doctor on hand when he pulls that shit,” he said.
“He won’t accept medical help,” Granger said. “It’s a test of faith.”
The colonel lit the cigar with a Zippo lighter, slowly twirling it in the flame until it was evenly lit. “You ask me, he needs a new wiring job. If he isn’t dead already.”
“If that’s what he believes, that’s what he believes. I don’t ever argue with a man’s beliefs. That’s between him and God.”
“Sticking a crazy rattler in your own face? Helluva way to play up to God. Then refuse a doctor?” He shook his head.
“You don’t take up snakes unless you believe you’re sanctified. In his heart he believes if he dies, he goes straight to the arms of the Lord. He lives, it means the Lord loves him that much more.”
“You believe all that Bible-thumping bullshit, don’t yuh, Lewis?”
“Well, I still admire the words, but I fell from grace a long time ago.”
“Actually, I only remember one verse from the Book, but it stands me well,” Shrack said.
“Which one’s that?”
“‘There is nothing better for a man than that he should eat and drink, and that his soul should enjoy good in his labor.’”
“Ecclesiastes,” the young sergeant said. “Chapter Two.”
The colonel smiled bitterly. “Very good, son. My old man did enough Bible-barking for the whole damn state of Montana. Pumped it into me morning, noon, and night until the day I left home for the Army. If I made a mistake in spelling or misquoted the Book, he’d take me out to the barn, cross my hands, tie ’em at the wrist, hang ’em over a hook, and whale my ass with a two by four, all the while quoting the damn Bible at me. He did on me until I was sixteen and too big to mess with. When I came back from ’Nam, I never went home again.”
“You came back to Montana and never went to see your family?” the sergeant said.
“My mother died while I was away,” the colonel said, staring through binoculars at the preacher lying still as a tree trunk on the picnic table. “The old man married some seventeen-year-old a couple months later. I didn’t need some pimply-faced Jesus freak giving me shit.” He puffed on his cigar, then added, “Know what surprises me? What surprises me is the snakes are the McCoy. I figured he bled the venom before the service… but, the good brother over there, he’s one sick puppy.”
“Excuse me, Colonel. Thing is, he believes,” the sergeant said, without turning around. “Put himself in the hands of the Lord, sir. Then shall the dust return to the earth as it was, and the spirit shall return unto God who gave it”
The colonel stared at the back of the sergeant’s head for a few moments and said, “If you say so, Sergeant.”
“It was Solomon said it, sir, not me.”
“In my name shall they cast out devils; speak new tongues; take up serpents; and if they drink any deadly thing, it shall not hurt them,” Granger said. “Also Ecclesiastes.”
The colonel looked at Granger with surprise.
“Actually, I did a little reading about snake handlers,” Granger said.
“You memorized that?”
“I thought it might come up.”
“You’re a shrewd son of a bitch, Lewis,” the colonel said, still watching the picnic table through his binoculars.
“That’s how come I own all those radio stations and banks, Harry.”
The preacher’s legs began to tremble and his whole body started to spasm.
“Christ, he’s taking a fit.”
“Fightin’ the Devil,” the sergeant whispered with awe. “Hallelujah.”
“Hallefuckinlujah, my ass. He’s gonna just lay there and die right in front of our eyes.”
A thin stalk of a man in a white suit came out of the tent and walked toward the picnic table. Mordie stopped him before he got to th
e preacher’s side.
“Best leave him alone, brother. Just keep prayin’ on him.”
“I’m a doctor.”
“He don’t want no doctor. Don’t need no doctor.”
The doctor stared down at the preacher. In the oblique light from the nearby tent, he saw a man whose skin was gray, whose breathing was erratic and labored, whose arm was swollen the size of an orange, who was shivering almost as if in seizure, and whose eyes seemed almost to be hemorrhaging. Foam bubbled from the corners of his mouth. Behind the doctor the young woman, Penny, left the tent and walked to the picnic table. She stood in the rain and looked down at Brother T with a combination of fear and awe. The doctor took his wrist, looking for a pulse, but the preacher jerked it away.
He spoke in short gasps.
“God’s here. I feel his presence. He will guide me through the tunnel or take me to paradise.”
“I’m afraid I don’t take the Bible literally,” the doctor said.
“Then what have you got?” Brother T asked, and smiled. “He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved; but he that believeth not shall be damned. Mark Fifteen.”
The preacher opened his mouth, letting the raindrops pelt his tongue and throat.
“Ahhh.”
He began speaking very fast, speaking in the cadence of words and sentences, except what came out was gibberish.
“We need to call an ambulance. He’s going into shock.”
“No!” Mordie said. “I know you wanna help, but this is the way of it. He’s in the Lord’s hands now.”
“He’s going to die.”
“If that’s the plan…”
“I just can’t stand by and—”
“What’s the matter, Doctor, you forget how to pray? Go back inside and pray for him. He’ll come through. Ain’t the first time.”
“He’s been bitten before?”
“Twice since we been together, once before that.”
“My God!”
“God is right. It’s God’s show. Go back inside and talk to Him.” The doctor turned slowly and walked back through the rain to the tent. Penny stepped closer to the preacher.
Reign in Hell Page 3
