Devil's Throat (The River Book 6) (4 page)

“Christ, back into Utah?” Roy said. “This day just keeps
getting worse.”

“Let’s just see what this guy might know,” Steven said,
backing the car out of the museum parking space and pulling onto the main road.
Soon they were back on the Interstate, headed north.

The address Bert emailed Steven led them to an old,
nineteenth century brick house that looked like it had been refurbished
recently. When Bert opened the door, Steven could see a giant sixty inch flat
screen television inside. The contrast of the new tech against the very old
structure of the house was strange.

Bert welcomed them in as if they were old friends, and asked
them to sit. He looked like he was in his mid-fifties, balding on top, and had
put on a little weight. He disappeared for a moment. Steven could see a picture
of Jesus on one wall and pictures of Mormon temples on another. It made him a little
uncomfortable. Soon Bert returned, pushing an older gentleman in a wheelchair.

“This is Grandpa Hunsaker,” Bert said. “He’s ninety-three
this year. His grandparents moved from St. Thomas, didn’t they grandpa?”

“They did!” Grandpa said, smiling. “They sure did!”

“Grandpa,” Bert said, “this is Brother Steven and Brother
Roy.”

“Are you home teaching?” Grandpa Hunsaker asked. “I thought
we were done for the month.”

“No, Grandpa,” Bert said. “They just wanted to ask you about
St. Thomas.”

“Oh,” Grandpa said. “My grandpa lived in St. Thomas. What did
you want to know?”

“Ask away, guys,” Bert said. “But I’ll warn you, once you get
him going he might never stop.”

Steven turned to Grandpa Hunsaker and smiled. “We just wanted
to know why your ancestors left St. Thomas. From what we read, it was because
of back taxes.”

“That’s horse manure, that’s what that is,” Grandpa Hunsaker
said. “Pure grade A horse manure. That was what they printed in the newspapers,
but it wasn’t true.”

“Do you know the real reason they moved?” Roy asked.

“The same reason they went there in the first place,” Grandpa
said. “Because Brigham Young told them to. He called the shots in those days,
told people where to settle, when to relocate. And nobody questioned him, they
just moved.”

“That’s it?” Steven asked. “Just because of Brigham Young?”

“Well, Brigham Young had his reasons,” Grandpa said. “My grandfather
was the mayor of St. Thomas. He was the one Brigham talked to. He told me
Brigham foresaw that the town had to be reborn because it was so evil. Kinda like
Noah. God was so angry at the evilness of men, he decided he needed to wipe it
out. So he sent a great flood. And that’s just exactly what happened to St.
Thomas. Brigham Young was right. Sixty years later, the town was cleansed by
the waters behind the dam, and the evil was drowned.”

“What was so evil about the place that it needed to be
cleansed?” Steven asked. “Did your grandfather ever say?”

“It was what bothered him most when he was the mayor,”
Grandpa Hunsaker said. “People would go missing, and never be heard from again.”

Isn’t that what Mr. Lunatic said?
Steven thought.
Didn’t he say
that people went missing out there?

 “At first they thought it might be the Paiutes,” Grandpa
Hunsaker continued, “but that didn’t make sense, because the Paiutes always
traded with the town and were always friendly, to Mormons anyway. They never
did find out where the people went. And he used to say that they were sorely
tested, like Job. They were constantly tempted to give themselves over to the
buffetings of Satan. After a while they were so weary of it all, when Brigham
commanded them to move, they didn’t look back.”

“What does that mean, ‘the buffetings of Satan’?” Roy asked,
trying to suppress his skepticism.

“The sisters were always temped with immorality,” Grandpa
said. “The men were tempted to steal, to commit adultery, to kill. People used
to stand up in fast and testimony meeting and say the most heinous things. My grandfather,
he was the mayor, but he was also the bishop. He was in a constant state of
calling the saints to repentance. The moment they left St. Thomas it stopped.
When they got here to Orderville they created one of the greatest communal
living cities that has ever existed in this entire country – and the
temptations went away. It was all because of St. Thomas. He thought the land
was bad. My grandmother used to say that something evil walked the streets at
night, prowling people’s homes, looking for trouble, looking for people to
tempt and steal away. And sometimes the people who had gone missing would
return, but they weren’t people anymore. They were evil spirits, walking the
earth.”

“Do you think that continued, even after they left?” Steven
asked. “Other people moved in after your ancestors relocated. They were there
until 1938.”

“They were all damned,” Grandpa said. “We would hear from
people who passed through. The town grew, but it grew on the destruction of
others. People kept disappearing. No one was ever safe. It was like the angel
of death, passing through Egypt, but it never stopped. They’d see the dead back
in their streets, walking just like you and me. My grandfather heard that
they’d made a deal with the Devil. That’s why God sent the flood, to bury them
for their wickedness, just like he did in Genesis.”

Steven had enough of the Biblical references and wanted to
wrap it up. “Did your grandfather or grandmother ever say anything else about
St. Thomas?”

“He told us never to go there,” Grandpa Hunsaker said. “I
thought that was kind of silly, since it was under water when he told me that.
But he said never to set foot near it. ‘Don’t fish over it, don’t take a boat
out near it,’ he said. And he said, ‘One day, that town’s gonna come back. And
don’t you ever go there, not on your life.’ Scared me as a kid. When I got
older, I went fishing near there with Levi. He’d heard all the same stories,
his great-grandmother had a journal he’d read and it had scared him, too. We
decided to take his boat out there, for kicks. He nearly lost the boat and we
nearly drowned. You can talk to Levi if you want; he’s still alive, lives in
LaVerkin. He knows more stories.”

“We won’t have time,” Steven said, standing, “but thank you
for talking with us. It was nice to meet both of you.”

“Hope that helped,” Bert said. “There’s not many people left
who would know anything about the place, second-hand like this.”

“I’ll bet,” Steven said. “I’m grateful you were willing to
let us meet him.” He turned to Roy. “You ready to go?”

“Sure,” Roy said, getting to his feet. “Thanks again for your
time.”

◊

As they drove back to Overton, Steven asked Roy what he
thought about the meeting with Bert and his grandfather.

“You mean all the religious claptrap aside?” Roy said.
“There’s something there. I think his grandfather, the mayor of St. Thomas,
knew something bad was there. I don’t doubt that.”

“The town has reappeared twice since the dam was built,”
Steven said. “Some of the buildings reappeared above the surface of the water
briefly. But the recent drought has brought down the water levels. Now the
entire town is exposed. There were pictures on my phone of the foundations of
buildings. People hike out there to see it.”

“How long has the town been uncovered?” Roy asked.

“Almost a decade now,” Steven said. “It’s been a long drought,
and it’s still going on. The Feds think the water will never rise to previous
levels. For all intents and purposes, St. Thomas is back.”

Steven’s phone rang, and he pulled it from his pocket and
answered it. It was Deem, who invited them for dinner. Steven accepted and took
her address, asking Roy to write it down as he dictated it. She lived in
Mesquite, a half hour east of Overton.

“Well, that’s perfect,” Steven said. “Solves dinner, too. And
it’s right on the way back.”

“And it’s out of Utah,” Roy said.

“I don’t know what your problem is,” Steven said. “Bert and
his grandfather were as cordial as you could be. Answered our questions without
batting an eye.”

“Humppff,” Roy said. “I don’t trust people who don’t drink
coffee.”

“How do you know they don’t drink coffee?” Steven said. “I read
that many Mormons drink it in secret.”

“Well then, they’re not likely to offer me any, are they?”
Roy said.

“Is that what the problem is?” Steven asked. “They didn’t
offer you some coffee?”

“Humpf,” Roy said, with a finality that told Steven the subject
was closed.

◊

“Please come in,” the woman at the door said to Steven and
Roy as she swung the door wide and waved them inside.

“I’m Steven, this is Roy,” Steven said, extending his hand.
“Are you Deem?”

“Oh, no,” the woman said. “That’s my daughter! I’m Margie.
Margie Hinton. My daughter is Deem. She told me you’d be joining us for dinner.
She’s due here any minute. Please! Come in, sit!”

Steven walked into a beautifully appointed living room and
took a seat on a white sofa. He glanced around at the furniture and decorations.
The same picture of Jesus and pictures of Mormon temples adorned the walls. He
began to wonder if every Mormon home had the same pictures.

Roy sat next to him and leaned over. “There’ll be no coffee
with dinner,” he whispered.

“So how do you know Deem?” Margie asked.

“Friend of a friend, really,” Steven said. “We’ve never met.
We’ve got a problem we’re working on, and we’re hoping Deem can help us.”

“And what kind of problem is that?” Margie asked. A buzzing
sound came from the kitchen, and Margie popped out of her chair. “Oh, excuse
me, I’ve got to get that.” She disappeared into the other room, and they heard
the sound of something being removed from an oven. At first Steven wondered why
anyone would cook in an oven when it was so hot outside, but he realized that
the temperature in the house was very cool, almost as cold as a normal Seattle
day. Margie lived in a climate-controlled house, so turning on the oven didn’t
seem to bother. In Seattle, Steven didn’t have an air conditioner. He rarely
needed one, and on hot days a couple of fans – and not using the oven – would
do.

Margie returned and sat in a chair opposite them. “I hope you
like pork chops,” she said. “Shake and Bake!”

“Sounds great,” Steven said.

“So what are you working on with Deem?” she asked again.

Steven looked at Roy, hoping he’d take over. Roy turned to
Margie.

“We’ve come down from Seattle,” he said, “and we’re trying to
locate my grandson, who’s gone missing. We understand your daughter has a
unique awareness of the area.”

Margie’s face dropped. “Oh, is this one of
those
things?” she asked.

“Those things?” Roy repeated. “I don’t understand.”

“You know,” Margie said, appearing very uncomfortable. “The
kooky stuff.”

Steven wondered how much Margie actually knew about Deem. He
didn’t want to give away something they shouldn’t.
Why would Deem invite us
over if her mother didn’t know?
Steven thought.
She must know.

“Both Roy and I have the gift,” Steven said. “We can see
things other people…”

He was cut off by Margie, who was shaking her head from side
to side. “No, I don’t want to know,” she said. “I really don’t. Please forgive
me for asking.”

“It’s something that bothers you?” Roy asked.

“It does,” Margie said. “I don’t think it’s of God. I just
don’t.”

“And what about Deem?” Steven asked.

“I wish she’d drop it and come back to the church,” Margie
said. “I’ve tried to get her to, but she won’t. It breaks my heart, really, to
see her throw her life away like this. Not to mention her next life.”

“Throw her life away?” Steven asked, starting to feel really
uncomfortable but not willing to back down.

“Chasing these things,” Margie said. “Dabbling in evil.”

The front door opened, and a young girl in her late teens
stepped into the room. “Hello!” she said, pulling boots from her feet and
setting them in a coat closet. She walked over to Steven and Roy and stuck out
her hand.

“You must be Deem,” Steven said. She held his hand firmly and
gave it two quick shakes and released it. She looked incredibly fit. Her
shoulder-length brown hair fell about her face in a style he’d noticed on
several good-looking women in the area. He knew she must be wearing makeup, but
he couldn’t see any. Her clothes were scuffed up a little, as through she’d
been working hard.

“I am,” she said. Her voice had a happy edge to it,
definitive and not halting in any way. “You must be Steven. And Roy.”

“Dinner’s ready,” Margie said. “Do you all want to come into
the dining room? Steven, Roy, do you need to wash up? Deem, you should too. There’s
a bathroom just down the hall there.”

Reminds me of my mother,
Steven thought.

They all took turns cleaning up, then they gathered around a
large dining table that looked like it could seat ten people. Margie assigned a
spot for Roy and Steven to sit.