Revelator

by Daryl Gregory

  Her father had opened the cave, and tomorrow night, Sunny was going in.

  Hendrick had looked so smug when he walked into the farm. Sunny ran to his arms, acting like she’d been rescued from pirates. That was the moment she knew Hendrick had no clue about Sunny’s nature—that he didn’t know about the God’s tendrils that could run him through like needles. He wasn’t afraid enough.

  “Big day tomorrow,” Hendrick said. He looked at her over the top of Sunny’s head. “Everything we’ve waited for. I’m almost sorry you’re going to miss it.”

  Then she understood. The cameras and lights. Hendrick’s willingness to agree to whatever deal she proposed as long as it kept her out of the way for a few days. This desperate move to get Sunny back, even for a day.

  The God was coming out of the mountain.

  “You can’t do this,” Stella told him. “She’s not ready. She can’t go in alone.”

  “This is the God’s daughter. He’s already appeared to her. And tomorrow night, the God will come greet us all.”

  “You idiot,” Stella shouted. “You fucking—”

  That’s when Sheriff Whaley grabbed her by the back of the neck. Next thing after that she was on her stomach, Whaley’s knee in her back. Soon as she got her breath back Stella started shouting. “The Ghostdaddy don’t take orders! It won’t listen to you.”

  Sunny looked back at her without letting go of Hendrick’s waist. “It’s all right,” she said. “He’ll listen to me.”

  * * *

  —

  sometime in the thin hours of the morning, the outside door banged open. Deputy Bobby Reed came in, steering a loose-kneed white man in a floral shirt. Bobby dropped him onto a cot in the next cell. The man swore and complained in fluent Drunk.

  Stella was at the bars, but Bobby started to walk out without looking at her.

  “God damn it, Bobby. Tell me what’s going on.”

  He seemed embarrassed. “Hey, Stella. Sorry about this.” More quietly, he added, “I tried to warn you.”

  “I appreciate it.” And she did. She would have appreciated it more if she’d gotten the warning more than a few minutes before Whaley arrived, but that was more her fault than his. “I need to know about Alfonse. Did you arrest him, too?”

  He sucked on his teeth. “Whaley said not to talk to you.”

  “Did he also say I should just piss all over your jail?”

  “What?”

  “I got to pee,” she said patiently. “I’m allowed to pee, aren’t I?”

  He had to think about this. Bobby was just seven or eight years older than she was, which she hadn’t realized back when she met him, the day he pulled her over in Abby’s car. He’d plumped up a bit over the years, but he was still handsome, and those green eyes remained a marvel, even in bad fluorescent light. He’d never married.

  “Okay, okay.” He walked her to a one-holer. By the looks of it the previous prisoners were unable to aim their dicks.

  Bobby was still looking nervous when she came out.

  “I’d like to make my one phone call.”

  “Come on, Stella.” He was anxious to get her back in the cell.

  “Tell me about Alfonse.”

  “We couldn’t find him. His family said he left town, so he must have gotten wind of us.”

  Thank God, she thought.

  Bobby still looked nervous. Maybe worried that she’d tell Whaley that he’d tipped her off, or worse, that he’d been looking the other way for years.

  She thought, I could grab his gun. Lock him in her cell and ride off like an Old West bandit. But hours later she’d have every cop in the South chasing her.

  After he closed the cell door she said, “Just do me one favor.”

  He groaned.

  “Call Pee Wee Simms. Tell him where I am.”

  “I can’t do that, Stella. The sheriff would have my head.”

  “Head? Head? How ’bout your balls—does he got them too?”

  The drunk laughed.

  * * *

  —

  sheriff whaley came in the next morning and released the drunk, who was walking a lot straighter now. A little after that Whaley let Stella into the restroom. She did her business, then drank from the faucet, splashed water on her face. Whaley started pounding on the door. She took her time coming out.

  “This is illegal, you know.”

  He waved her back into the cell.

  “You must owe Hendrick a lot to put your career in danger like this. You can’t just keep a person forever without charging them.”

  “Big talk for a lady that’s committed multiple federal crimes.”

  “It’s just moonshine.”

  “And kidnapping,” he said. “Don’t forget you took that girl against her will.”

  * * *

  —

  whaley didn’t bring breakfast, or even coffee. When food finally did arrive, just before eleven, it was delivered by the last person she expected: Mary Lynn Rayburn, Lunk’s sister.

  She passed Stella a paper sack through the bars. “There’s a ham sandwich, and some French fries, and a piece of chocolate cake—that might be messy, but I put in plenty of napkins.”

  The smell of food made her stomach sprout teeth. Stella dragged her cot close to the bars and tore into the sandwich. Mary Lynn pulled over a little stool and sat with a bottle of Coca-Cola on her lap and watched her eat.

  Stella waved for the Coke. Mary Lynn passed it through, and Stella popped off the cap on a crossbar.

  “How’d you know I was here?”

  She hesitated. “Bobby mentioned he’d seen you last night. And this morning…I work just a few doors down, and I thought…”

  “I’m glad you came. I was starving.” She took a swig from the bottle, wondering about the timing. When did Bobby have time to see her? “I didn’t know you two were friends.”

  Mary Lynn was still enough of a preacher’s daughter to blush. “He doesn’t know I’m here. I hope I don’t get him in trouble—I waited till Sheriff Whaley drove off. Mavis let me in.” Mavis was the department receptionist. “I can’t stay long.” Lord, she was nervous.

  “I won’t mention it to the sheriff,” Stella said. She finished the sandwich, then started on the fries. She needed to ask Mary Lynn for a favor, but didn’t want to spook her. “Thanks for this. Oh, and the flowers—thanks for those, too. You didn’t have to do that.”

  “I meant what I said. I know Lunk loved you.”

  Suddenly the food was dry in her throat. Stella blinked hard, swallowed.

  “I think you scared him, too. But he didn’t stop adoring you. Those months when you wouldn’t see him, they like to broke his heart,” Mary Lynn said. “He just didn’t understand. He said you’d stopped seeing him, stopped talking to him. But he never gave up. That last night he went to see you—”

  “Mary Lynn. I need you to do me a favor. Something bad’s happening tonight, and I have to get out of here. I need you to call Pee Wee Simms and Merle Whitt and tell them I’m here.”

  “I couldn’t do that. Bobby would get in trouble.”

  “They won’t say it came from you. I just need you to tell them I’m stuck here, and they need to bring bail.” She didn’t even know if Whaley would accept bail, seeing as how she wasn’t formally arrested.

  “I won’t do that,” Mary Lynn said. “I can’t—I can’t go against the law.”

  “This is important, damn it!”

  The woman drew back in alarm. Tears had appeared in her eyes.

  Stella said, “If you aren’t going to help me, why the hell did you come?”

  “Bobby says you’re in bad trouble, may even go to federal prison. Before you went away, I thought you might…I don’t know. Tell me.”

  “Tell you what? Spit it out.”
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  “I want to know what happened. The night he died.”

  What happened. Such an innocuous phrase.

  “You know,” Stella said. “Everybody knows.”

  Mary Lynn shook her head. “That story never made sense. I want to hear you tell it.”

  “I’ve got nothing for you. I told the police everything. It was in the papers.”

  “You lied to them, then. Or Motty did.”

  Stella realized she was standing. “Thanks for the lunch. Say hi to your folks for me.”

  “Tell me,” Mary Lynn said, “and I’ll help you.”

  “No you won’t.” She put a foot on the cot and pushed it back. Metal legs screeched on concrete.

  “I know it was a lie,” Mary Lynn said. “Lunk didn’t go up to the cove to drink with you and Abby. Oh, I know he tried liquor. He tried it because you got him to. But he didn’t like it. And he wouldn’t have got so drunk that he crashed Daddy’s car.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Not on that night.” She was angry now, glaring up at Stella. This was a side of her Stella had never seen. “No. Not on that night. Not unless something terrible happened.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I saw the ring.”

  Stella started to speak, couldn’t find the words. What ring?

  “He told me he was running away with you. He said you were going to get married. He swore me not to tell. Then he showed me the ring.” The tears were running down Mary Lynn’s cheeks, but she was oblivious to them. “He was so proud. It wasn’t much of a diamond, but it was all he could afford.”

  For a long moment Stella couldn’t speak. She’d seen the necklace, hanging around Sunny’s neck.

  “Please,” Mary Lynn said, and Stella tried to focus on her face. “Tell me the truth.”

  Stella stared off to the side at the cinder block wall, but not seeing it.

  “I didn’t know he’d done that,” she said.

  Stella sat on the cot. All strength had left her body.

  Mary Lynn said, “What did you do, Stella? Did you change your mind?”

  “I never changed my mind,” Stella said.

  “But you—”

  “Let me finish. You wanted the truth, sit still for it.”

  Mary Lynn set her lips in a hard line. The tears were still coming, though.

  “I didn’t change nothing,” Stella said, “because I never loved him. Not like he loved me.” She leaned forward and grabbed the bars. “My heart belonged to another.”

  Mary Lynn’s eyes went wide. She glanced to her left, thinking hard.

  “Doesn’t matter who,” Stella said. “None of your business.”

  Mary Lynn slowly shook her head. “Why would you lead him on, then? Why would you make him think you could run away together?”

  “I wanted to escape the cove, and he was my way out.”

  Mary Lynn’s tears had stopped.

  Stella sagged against the bars. Cold iron pressed into her forehead. “That night, he finally saw me for what I was. I should have kept him away, Mary Lynn. I should have protected him. I got to live with that the rest of my life.”

  A silence opened between them. Stella could hear every breath in her throat.

  “What about the baby?” Mary Lynn said finally. Her voice almost a whisper. “Were you carrying the child when you did this to Lunk?”

  “Doesn’t matter. What I told your father is the truth. Sunny’s not Lunk’s child. I’m sorry.”

  Mary Lynn seemed stunned. But she was finally taking it in.

  “The girl’s in trouble,” Stella said. “Hendrick’s letting her—making her do something dangerous. Something I went through as a kid. I lived through it, but I’m afraid she won’t.”

  “What are you talking about?” Mary Lynn’s confusion was so pure. “Are you saying Hendrick’s some kind of…what?”

  “I can’t tell you. I’m sorry. But I’m asking you, even though she’s not Lincoln’s child, to help me. Help me get out of here, so I can go get her.”

  The door handle moved, and Mary Lynn jerked and stared at the door. “I can’t—I have to go.”

  “I have to stop him,” Stella said. “Mary Lynn. Please.”

  A female voice said, “Mary Lynn! The sheriff’s back.” It was Mavis, the receptionist. “You better scoot.”

  Mary Lynn stood up. “I’m sorry you got the girl into…whatever this is. But you don’t get to do this, Stella. You don’t get to run away and ten years later swoop back in and try to make up for all your—” She searched for the word. “Destruction.”

  She walked to the door, stopped.

  “You killed him,” Mary Lynn said. “You can tell yourself you didn’t mean it, or it was an accident. But you need to own up to what you’ve done.”

  19

  1938

  The world was awash in scarlet. So much beauty, they thought. So much to be grateful for.

  They made their way down the mountain, and when they reached the valley they encountered an animal blocking their way. It took some time for them to realize it was a human being. Four skinny limbs, balancing upright on two of them. So precarious. They gawked at its small, hair-covered head, its tiny eyes. Its toothy mouth moved, issuing squawks and squeals.

  Then its name came to mind: Lunk.

  A shift of balance, and then perspective: They were suddenly lying on the ground at Lunk’s feet. Sunlight haloed his head. So, it was dawn. The world had kept spinning while they were in the cave.

  Lunk knelt down beside them. “Stella! You’re bleeding!”

  Stella. Yes. That name was familiar, too.

  “Can you stand? Oh my goodness. Oh my goodness. Let me…”

  He looped one of his arms underneath their legs, another arm behind their back. He grunted and lifted their body. Stumbled and caught himself.

  Ah, the world was so beautiful. The air smelled sweet.

  Lunk looked down at the body in his arms, and she was that girl, the knowledge surfacing in her brain. She was Stella.

  He carried her down the hill. They passed the empty pigpen and she thought: Why are there no young pigs? There was something important she needed to remember, something she glimpsed in the God’s mind. The shape of the thought was tiny, but as she reached for it it opened like a flower in her head.

  A child.

  Somehow Lunk managed to open the back door of the house without dropping her. He carried her down the hall and laid her on a bed.

  Stella’s bed. Yes. Her bed.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  Lunk’s face was twisted in some emotion she couldn’t read. He was sweating despite the cool air. Breathing hard. There were bloodstains on his shirt.

  “Let me get—where’s Motty? Don’t move, you’re still bleeding. Just a second.”

  She gazed at the ceiling. Her mind was crowded with knife-edged thoughts. But every time she began to comprehend a shape it folded into a different configuration, became, abruptly, a mystery. Everywhere she turned in her mind’s eye, shapes skittered away and transformed, as if desperately trying to escape her. Why was she so weak?

  She screamed.

  Lunk was there, wrapping a towel around her hand. “What happened? Is there glass? Did you cut yourself?”

  When is now? June? No, sometime in the heart of July. She’d communed with the God so many times—and each time her mind had filled with his thoughts, and each time she came a little closer to knowing his true nature. It was as if the God himself was trying to climb into her mind. Last night she’d come the closest of all. And yet—failure. She was too small, or else resisting him without knowing it. Even now, less than an hour after the communion, his thoughts were collapsing inside her. By afternoon they’d be as small as d
ust, irretrievable.

  She was filled, and she could not figure out how to stop the emptying.

  She wasn’t despairing, not yet. If she tried harder, if she remained conscious just a little while longer, she believed his knowledge would fill her like water. And then? She didn’t know what happened next. Her mind would slip from her body and she’d float down from the mountain a new creature.

  “You’re smiling,” Lunk said. “You’re not hurt?”

  “It hurts,” she said. “But I’m not hurt.”

  “Mary Lynn told me you never went back to school.”

  What was there to say? There was nothing school could teach her, and nowhere it could take her. Everything she needed was right here.

  “So I learned to drive.” He smiled shyly. “It’s my father’s car. I never thought he’d give up the horse and buggy.”

  A silence grew between them. He looked toward the door. Motty still hadn’t appeared.

  Stella said, “Why’d you come here, Lunk?”

  “I just…I wanted to…” It took him several more false starts before he arrived at, “I came to apologize.”

  “For what?”

  He seemed frustrated that she’d asked, as if she was being coy. “For what happened on the mountain.”

  She thought a moment. That night on the blanket. It seemed ages ago. “That doesn’t have to do with anything.”

  “If I crossed a line…”

  “No lines,” she said. “Not any I didn’t want to cross.”

  “I want to make it up to you. When you stopped talking to me I about died. You’re the one, Stella. I know you’re the one for me. If I had you I know everything in my life would work out.”

  She let him run on like that for a while. Finally she said, “I’m sorry.”