Apocalypse Burning (6 page)

“And now I believe you about that. But you see, I know she’s got her own grief she’s dealing with. She didn’t just lose her son; she lost her husband, and weren’t none of that her fault. Might be her that started something, and I’d end up with the same problem.”

The deputy’s words cut through Delroy. He couldn’t imagine Glenda doing something like that. But after what he’d done, after what they’d both suffered—
No. She still wouldn’t do anything like that. The deputy just doesn’t know her.

“I know how she probably feels,” Walter said. “Because that’s how my own wife felt. I know that ‘cause she cared enough about me to get riled up and tell me about it over and over. Till I owned up to it and pulled my head back on straight.” He sipped his coffee. “Now, it ain’t been easy, but I worked at it. Still do.” He held his left forefinger and thumb about an inch apart. “Little bit ever’ day. Reckon I always will. And as long as I have to, I’ll see that it gets done.”

Delroy glanced out the big window overlooking the street in front of the café. Sluggish morning traffic passed by only occasionally.

“I can’t go see my wife,” Delroy said.

“Wasn’t suggesting that you do. In fact, I’m thinking it might be better for the both of you to wait until you get your head together.”

“I can’t guarantee that will happen either.”

“Didn’t expect you to. The kind of changes you’re gonna have to make are gonna take years.”

Years.
The word sounded like a prison sentence to Delroy.

“But I will remind you of one thing,” Walter said. “These changes you gotta make? You’re running out of time. Way I read my Bible, there’s only—”

“Seven years,” Delroy said.

Walter nodded. “Less than that already. Figured you’d know. Don’t help with the clock ticking, but I guess that’s how it’s gotta be.”

“It’s hard to care.”

“Yes, sir. I expect it is. But you listen to me, Chaplain. Whatever chance you got of seeing your boy again—whole, hale, and hearty—why it’s through the sacrifice Jesus made to take our sins on and the grace of God Almighty that you’re gonna get it done. The way I figure it, you still got His work ahead of you.”

“There’s a reason I didn’t go back to my ship,” Delroy said. “I don’t belong there. Those men are involved in a war zone. There are chaplains aboard
Wasp
that can do what they need done. I’m not the rock they need.”

He felt guilty when he said that. He’d signed on to take care of those responsibilities. For the last five years, though, he’d hidden aboard
Wasp
more than he had attended to God’s work. The Lord had been given lip service and short shrift.
And if that won’t send a chaplain straight to hell, I don’t know what will.

“Wasn’t talking about you taking care of nobody else,” Walter said, breaking into Delroy’s thoughts. “I was talking about you taking care of your own self. Man’s drowning, why he’s gotta make sure he’s safe enough to save ever’body else. It’s always been that way.”

Delroy waited for a moment, then asked the question he didn’t want to ask but he couldn’t leave it alone. “What am I going to do if I’m not strong enough to save myself?”

“You’ll cross that bridge when you get to it. Just take one step at a time for right now. That’s plenty fast enough.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Walter shrugged. “Onliest answer I got. And the way you get started on that is to finish that breakfast. They go to a lot of trouble to fix a good plate here, and ain’t fitting for them to throw it out because you’re denying your appetite. You gotta eat and keep your strength up. You’re a military man, Chaplain. You eat what’s put before you to keep yourself fit because that’s part of a soldier’s standing orders. Right now, God and the navy own you, and you’d best see that they get their investment back.”

Delroy worked to turn off his feelings, his doubts, and his fears and concentrated on his plate. He got both jobs partially done. When he pushed the plate back, food remained but Walter Purcell seemed satisfied.

“Settle up the check,” Walter said, grabbing his hat from the table. “I’ll give you a ride.”

Delroy paid the bill, left a generous tip, and joined the deputy outside the café. The wind blew cold and clean from the north, but it carried a taint of woodsmoke and burned rubber.

“Hotel’s not gonna have you,” Walter said as they climbed into his cruiser.

“Why?” Delroy asked.

“Because I ain’t taking you there. I got a room in back of the house I can let you use for a few days.” Walter cranked the engine over. “Till you figure out what you’re gonna do.”

“So I’m under house arrest.”

“I wouldn’t call it that.”

“What if I want a hotel room?”

Walter looked at him. “You gonna insult my hospitality?”

Delroy didn’t know what to say. Walter Purcell surprised him at every turn.

“You wasn’t listening back in the café when I told you I had a couple of things I wanted to make sure of.” Walter put the transmission in gear and pulled out of the parking lot into the street.

“You didn’t want me to see Clarence Floyd and Glenda. I got that.”

Walter nodded. “Yep. You heard that right enough. I don’t aim to see you hurt nobody in my town.” He paused and shifted gears. “But I also want to make sure you don’t hurt yourself either.”

“I wouldn’t do that.”

“Says the man who looks like he shoved his face into a wood chipper.”

Delroy remained silent as he looked over the town. So many things seemed different, but so much of the area looked the same. Memories of his father played inside his head. He remembered the rough feel of his father’s hand holding his when he was small, and the smell of his father’s cologne when he was older.

Lord, I was wrong to come here. I was wrong to test You. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, but this is the wrong place to do it. My daddy’s all over this town. I’m going to see him everywhere I go.

He knew he’d be trapped into remembering Terrence as well. Delroy had brought his family to Marbury often to visit his mother. Terrence had played in the same park he had, had spent time in his father’s church after the new preacher had taken over, had eaten breakfasts in Hazel’s Café.

“You okay?” Walter asked.

“Aye,” Delroy answered.

“You ask me, that sounded a tad weak.”

“Regretting coming here.”

Walter nodded and pulled to a stop at the red light. “I can see how you’d feel that way right now.”

“I do appreciate your hospitality, Walter. There aren’t many men who’d do what you’ve done.”

“No, sir. I expect not. A few days ago, before all them people disappeared, I wouldn’t have done it.” Walter glanced at Delroy and grinned. “I called my wife, told her I was bringing you home. She thinks I’ve lost my mind.”

“Then why are you doing it?”

“Because it feels right.” Walter shrugged and looked a little embarrassed. “Kinda following my heart on this one. And way I feel, I don’t think I could walk away if I wanted to.” He looked at Delroy. “Why’d you take me up on it?”

“I had a choice?”

“You coulda made me make that call. Coulda spent the night in jail and probably got you a navy escort out of here first thing in the morning.”

“I could still slip out the window tonight.”

Walter laughed. “Maybe we’re both fools then, Chaplain.”

“Call me Delroy. Chaplain … just doesn’t feel right at the moment.”

“Fair enough, Delroy.”

“I’ll probably trouble you for the bed today and tonight,” Delroy said. “More than likely, I’ll make a phone call to the navy tonight and be gone first light if I can get a rental car.”

“What about your missus?”

Delroy shook his head. “I’ve made enough mistakes coming here. I don’t need to make one more. And that one would be a big one.” He laid his head back on the headrest and closed his eyes, shutting out the familiar streets and all the painful memories.

Just get me free of this town, Lord,
Delroy prayed. He hoped God was listening, but he didn’t know if He was.
No, it’s not that you don’t
know;
it’s that you don’t
believe,
Delroy. You call this one fair and square.
He wanted to cry but he lacked the strength and he knew it would do no good. He kept his eyes closed good and tight.

Then he grew aware of how long the car was sitting at the red light. No red light lasted that long. Delroy lifted his head and peered forward. The light was still red. To his left, Walter Purcell sat patiently with both hands on the steering wheel. If he noticed the passage of time, the deputy gave no indication.

The growling pop of a loud exhaust suddenly thundered into Delroy’s ears. The side mirror showed the approach of a yellow-andred Harley-Davidson motorcycle. The lone rider, dressed in scarred black leather, kicked his feet out as the motorcycle drew even with the cruiser.

Drawn by the noise and the closeness of the motorcycle, Delroy looked at the rider.

He was young and blond, his bare arms and neck covered with tattoos. He wore wraparound mirror sunglasses. As Delroy watched, the rider’s skin switched from tan and tattoos to a hint of reptilian scales.

The rider grinned. Somehow his voice carried over the thunder of the cycle’s exhaust. “Glad to see you’re hanging around here, Preacher.” The thing glanced over his shoulder and made a show of taking in the town. “Lotta people here to hurt. And as long as you’re around, I get to hurt them.” He smiled, bright and cruel and cold. “I have to admit, playing with you has become more exciting than I thought it would be. You’re being stubborn, but that just makes the chase better.” He twisted the accelerator and revved the engine, cracking ominous thunder all around them. “But in the end, I’m going to bring you down. Your faith is weak.”

Delroy fumbled for the door lock and pushed the button down.

The thing on the motorcycle laughed uproariously. He made a pistol of his thumb and forefinger and shot Delroy with it.

“Are you all right?”

Surprised by the deputy’s voice, Delroy turned to look at Walter.

“I said, are you all right?” Walter asked again. He nodded at the lock. “You afraid of falling out?”

Delroy glanced back at the side of the cruiser, only then realizing the sound of the throbbing engine had disappeared. The street beside him was empty.

2

United States of America
Fort Benning, Georgia
Local Time 0941 Hours

Megan pulled Goose’s pickup truck to a halt in front of the counseling center where she worked during the day. She felt guilty about getting here late. Anger at Major Augustus Trimble, commanding officer of the chaplains at the post, still pounded her temples.

She had confronted the major in his office only a short time ago. Megan had wanted Trimble to acknowledge that the Rapture had happened and start classes for the young people on the base that would explain what was going to happen during the coming seven years of the Tribulation.

Trimble had refused, had shouted her down, and had her escorted from his office. Megan hadn’t gone graciously, but she had gone.

Maybe Trimble hadn’t come around in his faith to the Lord, but she had. Somewhere up there, she knew Chris was in heaven with God and would be safe from all the coming savagery. It was a lot to be thankful for. However, she wasn’t convinced that God cared much about the present situation she was in.

Gerry Fletcher had been a child in her care. As one of the civilian counselors for the post, Megan saw a number of children and teenagers who had problems with drugs, alcohol, and emotional trauma. Gerry’s problem had been his father, Private Boyd Fletcher, who had a history of violent behavior.

The night of the Rapture, Gerry had been in the post ER with Megan, recovering from his latest session of abuse from his father. Megan had made the choice—against hospital, counseling, and military policy—to not inform the parents. She and the hospital staff had hoped that she could convince Gerry to testify against his father this time and break free of the cycle of abuse.

Instead, Gerry had ended up on top of a building in an attempt to commit suicide. He’d fallen by mistake, though, and Megan had barely managed to get hold of him. But that respite lasted only seconds. Despite Megan’s best efforts, Gerry had slipped from her, plummeting to certain doom.

But halfway down, Gerry had been raptured. He’d never had to endure the horrible death from the four-story plummet. His empty clothing had landed on the pavement below.

But no one believed that Megan had truly dropped the boy. They believed that she had faked the fall.

“Boyd Fletcher retained a civilian attorney who is waiting in the wings for the deposition of the provost marshal’s case against you,” Lieutenant Doug Benbow informed her.

“A civilian attorney?” Megan paid only a little attention to the young lieutenant sitting next to her in the truck. He was currently assigned to act as her military legal representative in the matter of the dereliction of duty charges against her regarding Gerry Fletcher.