Desperate Times (44 page)

“Damn,” whispered Jimmy to Ken. “Somehow I
was hoping for a twister to take us all to Oz. I thought it might
be some sort of a sign.”

Ken nodded. “No such luck. It was just a
squall. I’ll bet the fish were going nuts out there. I wish I’d
have been out on the lake.”

Jimmy chuckled. “Do you think Patty’s ever
going to let you get into a boat again, if there’s even a hint of a
storm? Those days are over, boss.”

“You’ve got that right,” agreed Patty.

“Come on, what are the chances of lightning
striking the same place, twice?” asked Ken, a small grin on his
face. “The odds are astronomical.”

“Well Kenneth, I suppose they’re exactly the
same odds as you going back onto that lake during a storm. Does
that answer your question?”

“Perfectly,” muttered Ken.

Jimmy laughed to himself. The small talk
helped to lift his sagging spirits. He thought of all they had been
through. The last day at the Plant, the trip to Saint Cloud, the
shootout at the rest area; he remembered it all. The road leading
to this shed had been long and winding. He couldn’t believe it was
all going to end, here. He wouldn’t believe it. Sweat ran from his
armpits and dribbled down his side. The heat seemed determined to
drain every ounce of strength from him. He knew it must be worse
for the others. He looked at Burt and Doc as they sat on the floor.
Both men were panting like dogs.

There was a commotion outside. Like the rain,
it started softly and grew steadily with each passing minute. They
were constructing something in the back yard. Jimmy listened and
heard the clanging of steel pipes. He wondered what they were up
to. A long hour passed, then another. Jimmy wished he could see
what was going on, but their little window looked out on the wrong
side of the yard. The only thing he could see out there were the
trunks of pines and their wall, ten feet beyond. Muffled voices
spoke outside the shed. They were getting ready to open the door.
Somebody outside shouted: “Five more minutes!”

Ken stood and stretched his muscles. He
looked like an Olympic athlete getting ready to compete. He stood
and followed Ken’s lead. His muscles ached, but they felt better
the more he stretched. Soon, everyone inside the shed was
stretching out. Jimmy fought the urge to laugh as desperation
entered the room. What at first looked to be comical, had quickly
taken on a solemn note. They were preparing their muscles for
battle; the only weapons they had left in their arsenal.

There was a loud commotion at the door.
Quietly, Ken ordered everyone to sit and the stretching stopped as
suddenly as it had begun. Ken wasn’t about to show their pair of
deuces to a full house. Not yet. The door was flung open and Glen
Putnam stood there, a pistol in his hand. He pointed it inside and
waved them all out.

“Let’s go,” ordered Putnam. “Sister Margaret
is waiting.”

Ken stood at the door and he gave them all a
stern look. Jimmy understood, and thought they all did. This was
it. They could go down like lambs being led to the slaughter or
fight to the bitter end. Jimmy followed Patty out the door and his
stomach flopped inside of him. His worst fears had been realized.
They were led to a small, circular section of cyclone fencing.
Jimmy thought they must have stolen it from the back of Sally’s
tennis court. The section was only eight feet tall, but it seemed
impossibly high to Jimmy. Behind the fence was a massive pile of
brush. A can of gasoline sat nearby. Jimmy groaned as they were
ushered inside. Three men entered the cage, wearing grave faces and
carrying strapping tape. They went to work immediately, binding the
small group hand and foot. There would be no scaling the fence,
thought Jimmy. Not now, not ever. Putnam closed the section of
fence and secured it to the pole with heavy wire.

“Face the house!” ordered Putnam.

They exchanged glances. Jimmy saw
hopelessness in those around them. They were surrounded by men with
guns. If there’d been a chance to run, it’d been lost. The lawn was
full of Sister Margaret’s followers. They stood in organized rows.
An aisle ran down the middle. Music began to play, a familiar tune
from Jimmy’s past. He recognized it as
Onward
Christian
Soldiers
, and the crowd began to sing
along.

Bill Huggins emerged from the back door. He
was holding a Bible in both hands over his balding head. He was
followed by Sister Margaret. Bill walked to a makeshift pulpit that
they had erected near the back door. Bill seemed to have totally
given himself to the woman. He wouldn’t even look at them. He
walked up to the pulpit, set down the Bible and stood to the right
of it. Sister Margaret then walked slowly to the pulpit. Her
frazzled hair looked to have been styled by a pack of angry rats.
She wore a flowing red robe with a gold-trimmed cross stitched
across the front. She waited at the pulpit while the final verse of
the hymn was sung. Jimmy watched as Bill somberly shut off the
portable CD player.

“May the Lord be with you,” Sister Margaret
began, her voice dark and brooding.

“And also with you, Sister Margaret,” chanted
the congregation.

“Let us pray,” she said, bowing her head.

Jimmy watched in disgust as Bill bowed his
head, obediently. He had been their final hope and Jimmy could
clearly see that he had been wrong about Bill. He wore one of Ken’s
old Sunday suits. The fit was terrible. Bill looked like a complete
stranger without his cap on. He was even freshly shaven, which was
obvious to Jimmy. Bill had a face that sprouted a five o’clock
shadow by seven in the morning.

“Lord, send us the strength to do what needs
to be done,” began Sister Margaret. “We know that you will be
taking us all home, soon, to share in the glory of Your Kingdom.
Dear Lord, we know that we cannot ascend into your presence, until
the last of the heretics are sent into the eternal fires of hell.
Does anyone here see any reason to question the mysterious ways of
the Lord our God? Is there a voice out there that needs to be
heard?”

“I’d like to say something,” said Ken,
bravely.

“Quiet heathen!” shouted Sister Margaret.

“Don’t I have that right?” continued Ken.

“Shoot his wife if he speaks another word!”
shouted Sister Margaret, eyes blazing with anger.

Guns were leveled at Patty and Ken was
silent. That was it, thought Jimmy, miserably. There was no one to
speak up on their behalf. No sane voice to challenge this lunatic
standing before them, who was using their misguided faith to commit
wholesale murder.

“I’d like to say something,” said Bill,
humbly.

Jimmy felt his heart skip a beat. Could this
be their ray of hope? Might Bill have something to say that could
sway this crowd? Stay their executions? Jimmy hoped so and began to
pray like never before.

“I don’t want to watch,” he said, simply.
“You can understand that, can’t you?”

Sister Margaret smiled and gave Bill a nod.
“Go William. We understand, perfectly. This can’t be easy for you.
It isn’t easy for any of us. These are hard times, indeed. Go
inside. I’ll join you in a few moments. We have to finish what the
Lord has started.”

“I understand, Sister Margaret. I just don’t
want to watch.”

“You’re free to leave, my son.”

Bill turned and walked toward the house. He
didn’t even glance at the others. He walked to the back door and
entered the house. The screen door slapped shut behind him.

Cindy began to sob.

Jimmy began to struggle against his bonds. He
had never felt such anger. He ground his wrists together and tasted
the adrenaline in his mouth. He growled like an animal. Somehow,
someway, he was going to get out of that cage and murder Bill
Huggins. How could he just stand idly by while his own daughter
waited to be set ablaze? He could see the others struggling now.
Ken’s face was beet-red, the veins sticking out of his neck. Burt
threw himself against the fence and was flung back onto his side
where he writhed, helplessly. Jimmy thought Burt might never stand
again.

“Prepare the fire!” commanded Sister
Margaret.

Jimmy watched in horror as the congregation
began to file slowly down the aisle. They walked to the back of the
fence and each picked up a piece of the brush. They then tossed it
inside the cage. A large chunk hit Burt in the stomach and Jimmy
heard him grunt with pain. He hopped over to where Burt was lying
and tried to deflect the falling debris from his friend.

They continued, circling the fence and
tossing branch after branch into what would soon become a barbeque
pit. Jimmy was hit by several pieces of wood, as was everyone else
inside the cage. Rita was crying, sitting down against the fence,
buried up to her neck in the growing pile of brush. Cindy stood
bravely next to her, her eyes streaked with tears. Paula was
moaning and trying to keep her balance as the area began to fill up
with brush. She fell and Carl tried desperately to protect her. He
fell on top of her and they stayed there, huddled together. Patty’s
glasses were knocked off her face and a red scrape blossomed on her
cheek. Ken screamed.

Sister Margaret walked over and picked up the
can of gas. Jimmy watched as she began to spill its contents around
the base of the fence. The fumes burned his nostrils.

Jimmy heard another voice screaming, much
louder than all of the others. He turned to see where the agonized
voice was coming from. Suddenly, he realized the screams were his
own.

Thirty
-
Seven

Song of Solomon 1:2 --
Let
him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth—for your love is more
delightful than wine. – (NIV)

Jimmy clamped his mouth shut. He wasn’t going
to give them the satisfaction of seeing his terror. He tried to
block out the memories of Brenda being burned alive. How long would
she have continued to scream, had Jon not mercifully ended her
agony? Jimmy didn’t know. He tried to prepare himself for the end.
He suddenly became overwhelmed by a sudden urge to do something so
simple, so logical, that he wondered why he hadn’t thought of it
before.

He was less than ten feet away from the last
of their group that still remained on their feet. He wanted to join
someone who stood, defiantly, despite what was to come. There
wasn’t much time. He hopped away from Burt. Sadly, he was nearly
covered in brush and looked to have given up all hope. There was
nothing he could do for him. He hopped toward the middle where
there was less kindling to stumble over. He thought if he
concentrated, he might just be able to make it.

Jimmy continued to hop. He hopped over Patty
and Ken, who were lying helpless in a tangle of brush. They were
spooned together, their faces streaked with tears. He watched Cindy
and Rita struggle and his heart ached. He hopped again and nearly
lost his balance. He doubled over, but somehow managed to stay on
his feet. A chunk of pine hit him squarely in the forehead. Warm
blood trickled down the bridge of his nose. He was almost there. He
blocked everything out—everything except his goal. He watched his
feet, chose his path and timed his short leaps to keep his
momentum. And after two sideward leaps and another forward, he was
standing face to face with her. She looked totally panic stricken,
but somehow she managed a smile.

Jimmy leaned in and gently kissed Julie.

At first her lips seemed as hard as stone.
Jimmy pressed his face against Julie’s and gradually, she began to
return his kiss. They inched closer together. Jimmy felt peace in
that simple act, as if he’d righted some terrible wrong. Paula was
merely a few feet away, but that held no meaning to him. He could
pass into the next world with the knowledge that he had truly
loved.

Suddenly, something heavy struck Jimmy on the
top of his head. He collapsed among the brush and the limbs of his
fellow comrades. The blow had knocked him nearly senseless and he
struggled to right himself. His twisting and turning were of no
use. He was helpless. Julie dropped to her knees beside him.
Carefully, she positioned herself until she dropped forward. Their
faces were barely an inch apart.

“I love you, Jimmy,” she said to him,
quietly.

“And I love you,” he answered.

There was nothing more to be done, nothing
more to be said. They stared into each others’ eyes, waiting for
the end to come. Finally, Jimmy felt at peace with himself, Julie,
and even death.

Thirty
-
Eight

Heresy
is a religious opinion held to be contrary
to the Christian Church or that of any church, creed, or religious
system.

Mercifully, the brush stopped raining down
upon them and the congregation returned to where they’d been. Jimmy
could hear pipe organ music being played. Jimmy wondered where it
was coming from and then he remembered the CD player.

Sister Margaret began to sing. He didn’t
recognize the tune, but he clearly recognized the voice. She sang
in a high falsetto that lacked any sort of musical training. Jimmy
wanted to cover his ears. Her voice cut like sharp claws. Sister
Margaret was off pitch, off tempo and seemed to be determined to
sing over the blaring organ melody.