Apocalypse Burning (28 page)

Watching the kids file out into the hallway, Megan spotted Juan Rodriguez standing against the wall. His dark, hooded eyes met hers for just a moment. There was no sign of guilt, no sign of remorse. Then he shook his head as if in disgusted disbelief, turned, and walked out of sight.

The captain lifted the book from the podium again and sneered at it. “
The end times
, Mrs. Gander?” He shook his head. “That’s what this is going to be for you when General Braddock finishes with you.”

“Can I quote you on that, Captain Stashower? That was a very strong and somewhat witty statement using the book’s title like that. Especially when coming from a United States Army captain heading up a six-man security unit of brawny military police officers and directed at a single young woman who serves the troubled youth of Fort Benning.”

A woman’s heavily accented Southern voice surprised Megan and pulled her attention to the second doorway at the end of the room. A camcorder operator stood at the woman’s side. As Megan watched, the cameraman moved his machine back and forth.

“Who are you?” Stashower demanded.

The woman was in her early-to midforties. She had platinum blonde hair cut short, blue eyes, and a pale complexion. Tall and slender, she looked elegant in the light brown business suit.

“Ms. Penny Gillespie,” the woman said in her syrupy Southern drawl. “This is my colleague, Herman.”

Herman the cameraman waved nonchalantly, but never took his eye from the camcorder’s viewer or his finger off the Record button.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Stashower growled.

“I understand that the timing appears to be quite awkward for you, Captain Anthony Jerome Stashower,” Penny Gillespie assured him.

“This place is off-limits.”

“That’s not,” the woman stated, “what I was told at the front gate.” She crossed the room with a stroll that was somehow both business and pure class. “I was told, and I have it on the best authority—a Major Frederick Donleavy, who, if memory serves me correctly, holds the position of Fort Benning’s chief public-information officer—that members of the media are allowed to roam the post freely as of this morning. As a gesture of goodwill toward the city that hosts this fort, in light of the post’s last few days of marshal law and general selfishness regarding the problems of others. We can roam freely, except for the restricted areas, of course. Those, I’ve been instructed, are clearly marked and guarded.” She looked around the room with wide eyes. “I found no such warnings or guards on this building or in this very room, Captain Stashower.”

“You’re a member of the media?” Stashower demanded.

“Indeed,” Penny answered. “I am a member in very good standing. I represent Dove TV, a local Christian television station. I have a small show. Perhaps you’ve heard of it.
Penny for Your Prayers.
The title is somewhat self-aggrandizing, but I assure you I had no choice in the matter. My father can be a very obstinate man when he chooses. I specialize in human interest stories about people who can use the prayers and kindness of others. People who have, in the past, given generously of themselves.”

Megan had heard of the program. Dove TV, with the white dove the station used for its logo, was a local network out of Atlanta and had a considerable fan base among Christian viewers.
Penny for Your Prayers
was one of the top programs. Looking at the woman now, Megan recognized her as the host.

“We’re very small in comparison to the major networks also represented here today,” Penny said, “but I assure you that we get picked up quite regularly in syndication. Many viewers are interested in receiving a Christian viewpoint on national domestic events that capture headlines. That is quite true these past few days. Especially in light of this singularly unique set of circumstances regarding the disappearances, which Mrs. Gander was attempting to explain to those students when you so rudely burst in and interrupted.”

Megan stood in shock. Stashower’s unannounced arrival was staggering, but coupled with the sudden appearance of a Christian television reporter, events were almost going too fast for her to comprehend.

“I did not burst in,” Stashower objected.

“My dear captain,” Penny said in a crisp and cool voice, “I do remember a time not so very long ago when a man—especially a man wearing the uniform of this country’s military and standing as a symbol of courage and honor and everything that is decent about a man—did not call a lady a liar.”

“I did not—” Stashower caught himself. He ground his teeth. “Perhaps we have a difference of opinion.”

“And I,” Penny told him, stopping in front of him with her cameraman just behind and to the side of her so he could film the confrontation, “I have a very interesting digital recording, Captain. Perhaps I could show this recording to my viewers and have them vote on it. About bursting in or being invited in? Many of my viewers are very big on manners.” She smiled, flashing white teeth that were somehow as threatening as a shark’s. “I could let you know the results in just a short time, I am sure. You and your commanding officer … General Braddock, I believe?”

“Maybe the general will have a word with your station owner,” Stashower said.

Penny gave a mock gasp, put a hand over her heart, and let her jaw drop in astonishment. “Why, I declare. I do think I have been chastised. Or would you say
threatened,
Herman?”

“Oh, I’d say threatened,” Herman said. “You’ve been threatened before, Penny, and this sounds like one of those times.”

“It must be so hard to come up with original threats,” Penny said. “But I understand your need to do so, Captain.”

A muscle along Stashower’s jaw quivered.

Giving a disapproving shrug and a wave of dismissal, Penny said, “Well then, Captain, certainly threaten away if you feel you must. And you have my blessing to contact my station owner regarding my story if you wish. My father—the station owner—why he keeps an open-door policy. I’m sure you’ll have no problems setting up such a meeting. My father would probably feel up to entertaining your General Braddock as well.”

Despite her anxiety about everything going on and her lack of control over these events, Megan had a hard time not bursting out laughing at Stashower’s inept attempts to extricate himself from the confrontation.

“But I feel I must warn you,” Penny said. “My father, Beauregard P. Gillespie—
the
Beauregard P. Gillespie of the Atlanta, Georgia, Gillespies—does not always suffer threats in the spirit of good sport in which I am sure your own threat was offered. He may very well insist on a pound of flesh over such an occasion, and he keeps a quite competent legal staff that dotes on him zealously, even when they know he’s being overly sensitive. They would love to see the digital footage Herman has shot of your conversation with me, I do believe.”

Stashower closed his mouth.

“Now,” Penny said, “if you’re through threatening Mrs. Gander, Captain Stashower, I should like very much to ask her for a moment of her time.” She shifted her attention to Megan without awaiting the captain’s reaction. “Mrs. Gander, I must say, it is quite a privilege to meet you. I’d been looking forward to it since I talked with one of the snarly-mouthed young people outside this building who said military police officers were on their way to break up your little ‘Jesus Saves Party,’ as they so crudely called it.” She extended her hand.

Mesmerized by the woman’s audacious confidence, Megan took her hand. Penny Gillespie’s handshake was warm and strong.

“Thank you,” Megan said. “I’ve seen your show.” She wished the comment hadn’t sounded so inane, but that was the first response that popped into her head.

Penny smiled. “You
are
a dear.” She offered a final squeeze and took her hand back. “Am I to assume, then, that you are free for the moment, Mrs. Gander?”

“Yes,” Megan said.

“Good. This will work out perfectly, because—after hearing about this very interesting class and seeing the attention and retribution offered by General Braddock and his staff—I would actually like more than a moment of your time. I have a proposition that you might find at least entertaining, and hopefully more than a little interesting.” Penny took Megan by the elbow. “Captain Stashower, may I assume that since Mrs. Gander has been unequivocally threatened by you and had her ‘Jesus Saves Party’ properly routed—as ordered by General Braddock—that she is now free to go?”

Stashower remained tight-lipped for a moment.

Megan suddenly realized that the phrasing of Penny’s question, if answered affirmatively, not only let her go but also admitted for public—and camcorder—record that Stashower had threatened her at the general’s orders. On her show, Penny was always quick-witted and often punished anyone who tried to lie to her or had willingly caused strife in the lives of others.

“No,” Stashower replied.

Megan knew that the captain was trying to deny the accusations couched in Penny’s question, but he had stepped into another part of the trap that Penny had laid for him with dismaying ease.

“Oh my,” Penny said in a worried tone. “Do you mean that you have to threaten Mrs. Gander further, Captain Stashower? If I had been Mrs. Gander, I’m afraid I might have been petrified to even breathe. I may have to put a discretionary warning on this segment of my show when it airs.”

Herman the cameraman kept recording.

“No,” Stashower said. “No threats.”

“Well, that’s good,” Penny said with enthusiastic relief. “It was very hard going through those first few. I’m sure our viewers will be a little more relaxed knowing that Mrs. Gander is not going to be further persecuted for having the personal strength and conviction to show her Christian faith to young people of this post who need guidance in these troubling times.” She smiled. “Do you require anything more of Mrs. Gander, Captain Stashower?”

“No,” Stashower gritted out.

“Then we’ll take our leave, Captain, and wish you a good day.” Penny gently pulled at Megan’s elbow.

Reluctantly at first, knowing all kinds of repercussions from the military lay ahead of her, Megan followed Penny Gillespie out of the room.

9

Church of the Word
Marbury, Alabama
Local Time 1011 Hours

The creature wore the visage of a young man. He was black this time, wearing black motorcycle leathers and wraparound sunglasses. A pencil-thin mustache and a goatee framed his mouth. Rastafarian dredlocks covered his head. Gold hoop earrings dangled from his ears and two gold teeth gleamed in his mouth. When the dappled sunlight fell on him, reptilian scales showed shadowy images.

Beyond the creature, Walter stood outside the cruiser talking on his handset. He gave no indication he saw the creature.

The creature smirked as it examined the front of the church. “Well, this place has certainly seen better days. Guess nobody around here even believes in paint.” He peeled a long strip of paint from the doorframe. “So how you feelin’ today, Preacher? All rested up?” Even its accent was changed, but it was the same creature.

Delroy didn’t speak.

“So, you gonna buy into Deputy Dog’s little pep talk? Take a walk down memory lane and get your religion back? Is that what this is all about?” The creature shook its head. “You’re still looking for that quick fix, Preacher. Still looking but not finding.”

The mocking words ate at Delroy’s confidence. How was he supposed to know what to do if God kept allowing this creature to dog his steps and undermine every advance he made toward getting himself back together?

The creature shook its head again. “I have to tell you, Terrence is plenty upset with you. He’s still lying in that coffin when you could have at least freed him.”

Delroy turned away, closed his eyes, and told himself he would ignore whatever it said.

“Don’t turn away from me, Preacher,” the thing ordered. “If you don’t listen to me, maybe I’ll walk out to that deputy and slit his throat ear to ear while he’s talking on the walkie-talkie. He don’t see me now; I can promise you he won’t see me then.”

Trembling with rage and fear, all but exhausted even after the sleep he’d gotten the day before, Delroy faced the creature, fully expecting it to walk into the church and start closing in on him.

Instead, the creature remained at the door. “What is it with you, Preacher? Are you just too dumb to give up? or too prideful? Neither one of those qualities is exactly something God treasures now, is it?”

Delroy peered past the creature, wondering how Walter Purcell hadn’t noticed it standing there. Instead, the deputy stayed on the radio, gazing around the neighborhood as if nothing was going on.

“He can’t see me,” the thing said. “I’m here just for you.”

Delroy felt broken and humbled, but he remembered his daddy’s words. “Are you here to tempt me?”

“With what?” the creature asked, smiling. “What have I offered you?”

“Doubt,” Delroy said. “And fear.”

The creature grinned. “You’re fooling yourself, Preacher. You’ve already loaded your own cupboard with those things. And you’re not as important in the grand scheme of things as you seem to believe you are. You’re just an amusement.” It stepped forward, hesitant for the barest moment till its foot touched down on the other side of the threshold. As it moved down the aisle, the creature glanced around. “I’ve never been in a church before.” It kicked at an empty beer bottle and sent the brown glass rolling across the room. “Of course, most churches I’ve seen have been cleaner. This place is a pigsty. God hasn’t even been able to keep this place clean much less filled with believers.”