Appalachian Galapagos (9 page)

Cyrus gripped Frank's right arm and moved him aside as if he were a doll.

Frank chuckled, sensing the immediate and incredible danger of his position. When he heard the roar from outside the church doors, he closed his eyes and prayed. If there was any time in his life he wanted to wish himself away, it was this single moment.

"
BROTHER CLETUS, THEY KILLED THE LIVING EARTH
!" Cyrus shouted from outside.

"The
Livin
' what!" Frank heard Lukas shout. "This here's Bigfoot you hippie dumbfuck, and it's mine, so get your
faggoty
hands off it." Frank actually giggled, the laugh escaping his lips. He glanced nervously at the preacher.

Brother Cletus swooned on the pulpit. Three of the congregation rushed up and caught him before he hit the floor. Frank knew he should run, but the incense had woven numbing tendrils throughout his body and his legs seemed very far away.

Brother Cletus was helped forward and down the aisle, his eyes so wide that Frank could see red veins shooting through the whites. The muscles along the immense neck danced like live snakes, his mouth opening as if it needed to vent the steam of his rage. Finally able to recover, he shooed the helping hands away from him. He stood imperiously, unlocking his old lanky limbs until he stood very tall. He hooked his shaking hands under his red suspenders.

"Brothers, hold that man whilst I go outside and see this alleged desecration with mine own eyes!" The brethren were on Frank in an instant, pushing a body that was no longer his roughly back and into an empty pew. Like a 1960's
Batman
TV Show soundtrack, Frank heard the
BIFFs, BOFFs
and
POWs
of fighting, a few screams and the weeping of grown men, then the sound of a dozen pairs of feet shuffling back into the church.

A few moments later, Brother Cletus strode into the church, Lukas and Jimmy following close behind, their arms held firmly by a group of angry Brethren.

Tears poured from the eyes of Brother Cletus like blood from open wounds. His deep sobs resonated through the old church like the knelling of a funeral bell.

"My Brothers," Cletus hissed, his voice hardened by a divine rage. "The Living Earth, Jesus Christ risen, chosen
Nephilim
of us all, hath fallen at the hands of these men. Satan's minions have murdered our salvation. The angel of Earth, our angel, is dead."

Anger exploded from the crowd. Stares condemned them through spittle-filtered epithets. The shouts were a vicious mixture of hatred and wishes for revenge. But Brother Cletus would have none of it.

"Halt this blasphemous speech, my brothers. Remember, Matthew 5:38 says, 'You have heard that it was said, An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth. But I say to you, do not resist one who is evil. If anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also, and if anyone would sue you and take your coat, let him have your cloak as well, and if any one forces you to go one mile, go with him two miles.'"

"They gonna take us on a trip?" asked Lukas.

Frank wanted to respond, but kept quiet.

"There is none here who doubts the evil that has been perpetrated by these three wicked men. Nor is there any doubt the influence of Satan within their actions. I witnessed these very same men cavorting upon the ground in a bestial embrace. I witnessed these very same men drinking and taking the Lord's name in vain."

The congregation's stare's shifted through disgust and back again to hate.

"Then they came up and laid hands upon our
Nephilim
, our Savior Jesus Christ, and they seized him."

The congregation roared to their feet.

"Romans says..." the preacher jumped into the aisle, holding up his arms. He had to force several of the congregation back into their seats. His eyes flashed with holy rule. "Romans 12-19 says, 'Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave it to the wrath of God for it is written, Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord. If your enemy is hungry feed him. If he is thirsty, give him drink, for by doing so you will heap burning coals upon his head.' So we will feed them. We will give them drink. And await the word of God. God will determine their fate, for it is not ours to pre-empt his wrath, my brothers."

"
Burnin
' coals?" asked Lukas.

"What the fuck is
goin
' on here, Frank?" asked Jimmy.

"Lukas was right," said Frank. "It's all about God here. And Lukas apparently killed him."

Earthworm Dreams...Mortality Knocks Again...Sunday Christians...Redemption...Completely and Utterly Dead...A
Fiendish Hole...Brothers Again...The Sorriest Prayer that God's Ever Heard

Hours had passed and they were still alive.

Right after the preacher's proclamation, the three had been escorted, none too nicely, into a back room, down a flight of earthen stairs, and into a basement that appeared to have been carved out of the very earth. In the center of the room was a small pit where a viscous fluid bubbled and smoked. The smell was slight, but Frank recognized the bitter stench of sulfur. Like a fiendish well, it sat there waiting to be used...or fed. Here and there, boards had been mounted to stop the walls from eroding, but for the most part, the walls were black dirt, red Tennessee clay and rock.

Frank watched as an earthworm dangled precariously from the wall beside him. The thin brown form was desperately trying to reenter the dirt it had accidentally departed. He understood the desperation all too well. Given the choice, he'd also wish to start over again. He promised himself that the next time, when his instincts told him not to go down the river, he'd listen. That is if there was a next time.

But he wasn't a worm.

A worm could be chopped in half and still survive.

Post-decapitation redemption.

No. He would get no second chances. He was deep in the shit and only a miracle would save him from the insane proclivities of the congregation who were even now contemplating the fate of himself and his friends.

"So you were seven when it happened, huh?"

Frank turned slowly and stared at Jimmy.

"You were seven when you figured out you was gonna die."

Frank nodded.

"...and Lukas was seventeen." Jimmy said, wiping tears from his eyes. "Would you believe it if I said I didn't know what you were
talkin
' about before? 'Dust in the Wind' and all that. I didn't understand it until now."

Lukas put his arm around his friend's shoulder.

"And I feel paralyzed. I know I am gonna die. Maybe not this second. I might even get out of this crazy shit. But somewhere, sometime, I am gonna be dead."

"It'll happen to us all," Lukas said.

"I know. I know. But now it's me."

Frank's heart went out to his old friend. In the city, he had learned to deal with the many possibilities of death over the years, almost able to forget the fear the realization engendered. Only at certain times, like boarding a subway or crossing a street or riding in an elevator, would it surface. Yet as soon as it arrived, it would leave, placated by the experience of surviving. Jimmy didn't have that experience. He had nothing to fall back upon. No memories of surviving.

"Jimmy..." he began.

What could he say? That everything would be okay? That they would survive? In truth, he had no idea how this would turn out. They were in a situation where their own actions had no value. Frank smiled. Lukas had been right after all. There was no Darwin at work here unless you could somehow account for survival of the fittest, but Frank felt fairly certain that this kind of inter-species argument was not what the old man had in mind. No, there was only faith. Faith that God or whomever would allow them to walk away from this safe and alive. Faith that at the end of their journey was salvation. Faith that was being counted on from a frequently fickle, sometimes absent God.

"So what are we gonna do?" asked Lukas.

"I honestly don't know," Frank said, standing and walking to the small pit in the center of the room.

"We gotta do
somethin
'."

"Yeah, I know. But what?"

"Escape maybe?"

"How? How the hell are we going to escape? Unless you're a worm, there is no way out of here. And this stuff doesn't look promising."

He punctuated his statement by dropping a small stone into the thick liquid of the well. It stayed atop the orange and green surface for a moment, then pitched and sunk. If there were a bottom to the muck, Frank would never find it. And he didn't want to, either.

Jimmy stood and joined Frank at the lip of the strange well. "What is it?"

"I'd say it was lava, but it isn't giving off much heat. There is a heavy mineral content that you can smell. Recognize the sulfur?"

"Is that what smells like a fresh fart?"

"Yeah. They use it in stuff like gunpowder and explosives."

Evidently piqued by the mention of explosives, Lukas dislodged himself from his position by the wall and joined the pair by the well.

"Any way we can use it?"

Frank stared around the room, wishing for more
McGyver
inspiration, but was stumped. Like the church above, the basement was illuminated by oil lamps. Two of them descended from chains attached to the ceiling supports above him. So there was a fire source, but the way he remembered from his earth sciences classes in college as well as from watching the Discovery Channel, sulfur was in mineral form when used the way he wanted to use it. He seriously doubted the sludge within the well would even light. It was just too much like some psychedelic split pea soup, something that went better with crackers than matches.

"No. I don't think so."

"So what the hell are we gonna do?" asked Jimmy.

"Pray, I suppose. Lukas was right. God is the only one who can get us out of here. And last time I checked, he hasn't been very forthcoming with miracles lately."

"Hey, watch what
yer
sayin'," Lukas said.

Frank spun on his friend, anger seething from his eyes.

"What? What? Is God going to get pissed off and decide not to help us just because I'm speaking the truth? Is that the kind of God you believe in, Lukas?" he poked him in the chest with a finger. "If that's the kind of God you believe in, I don't want any part of it."

"But you don't understand—"

"Hell yes, I understand. You and your kind walk and talk trash Monday through Saturday, but then on Sunday make up for your week's worth of sins by pretending you are a bunch of fucking saints. If I was God, and maybe this is just me...if I was God, I'd want everyone acting the right way all the damned time. I am sick and tired of the duplicities. And you and your kind think your way is the only way."

Frank was grabbed from behind. He twisted in Jimmy's grasp.

"What is this
your kind
, shit. Who the fuck do you think
yer
talkin
' to?"

"You. You and Lukas are who I am talking about. You two fuck and curse and drink and act like the end of the world might be just around the corner with all your partying and playing around."

Frank was jerked back by his collar and hit the floor hard. Lukas kneed him in the chest. Frank gasped at the dual impacts of the floor upon his back and the blow to his solar plexus.

"So now it comes out. You, the big city boy, are too good for us. You don't like us, but you come on down to Redneck Wonderland so you can make fun of us and at the same time feel better about yourself. Feel superior." Spittle sprayed from Lukas' mouth. "Have I got it right, Frank? Have I got it right?"