The Dark Light (17 page)

Hannah takes her scarf from around her neck and passes it to Bevins. He kneels down and wraps it around Alex’s ankle. ‘Come, we are going to pray for you. I will ask God to have mercy on you. In these last days we will save you.’

He gestures to the bundle of Alex’s old clothes that Hannah is holding. ‘Make sure you burn them,’ he says.

When we get back to the church everyone is talking restlessly, but the room goes quiet the moment we step through the door.

Everyone stares at Alex. Bevins leads her to the front, where he makes her kneel at the altar. He puts his hands on her head and begins to speak: ‘Here, Lord, is a powerful sinner. So vile and ugly in her thoughts . . .’

He goes on and on about sin. About how awful and terrible Alex is, about how he is asking God to cleanse her and accept her as His own.

Then suddenly his voice changes, and he stands up, holding his arms to the sky, and starts to speak in a deeper, older voice that sounds like someone else entirely.

‘
These days are My days. Not like any other days you have seen. Do not look to yesterday. Look to the future, because this new way is not the old. Those who do not want to give up their sin and are fearful, like Gideon’s men. You must not let anything pass your lips that is not blessed. In these last days you must be purified. There are many that would try and divert you from your course. You must hold strong for Me. For these last days, all around will assail you, but you will stay strong
.’

And then he folds on to his knees, clutching his hands together as if he’s holding a sword. I know what’s coming now. If the spirit is visiting with us, many will fall to the floor laughing or crying. I did it once. I fell off my chair in the middle of a prayer meeting and Mother said it was because I had been slain in the spirit, although I didn’t feel anything except that my elbow hurt where I banged it on the floor.

‘There are among us still the signs of the devil, Satan clothed in the robes of a stranger. One who is come among us as a wolf in the clothing of sheep.’

He touches Alex on the shoulder and she cries out.

‘Get off me!’ She tries to stand up, but he pushes her back down.

‘And now the spirit is strong amongst us we will defeat this demon in our midst that wants to tempt us away from the glory.’

Then he pushes her forward, hard, so that she falls. ‘See how the devil falls away in the face of the spirit of the Lord!’

‘You’re hurting me!’

‘It is not I who is hurting you!’ he roars. ‘It is the demon inside you!’ And he presses her down to the floor, placing his hands on her back.

She struggles now. ‘Get off me! Let me go!’ She starts to kick with her legs. ‘Pervert!’

‘It’s a strong one!’ he says. ‘Listen to it squeal. Be still, child. Be
still
.’

And then Father comes over to help him and Mr Protheroe, and together they hold her legs and her arms so she can’t move.

She has started crying now, a loud yelping, still writhing to get out of their grasp. They pray for her in tongues. Watching them, I am frozen. I can see the beads of sweat on Mr Bevins’s brow and Alex’s hot, angry face. I am afraid for her. What if they hurt her more than they’re doing already? I close my eyes and try to pray, but the voices have swollen to a loud dissonance and I can’t think with everyone swaying, muttering, making strange noises, and Alex screaming to be let go.

They carry on for ages, praying in the spirit, until Alex stops shouting and crying and instead is quietly sobbing. Bevins declares a great victory against the forces of evil and stands up stiffly. ‘The visitation of the spirit only comes in times of great darkness,’ he says. ‘To cast out demons and help us to stay strong until the moment of great Rapture is upon us. Let none of us be found wanting. There is nowhere to hide from the truth of the Lord. Nowhere to hide.’

He throws his arms open to the ceiling. Alex is curled up on the floor, her hands over her eyes, breathing hard. I look at Father, who has his eyes closed and is raising his arms to the heavens and I wonder again what it is that he sees up there. I close my eyes and go into the empty part of my mind, which is neither sleep nor waking but more like waiting, where I am in a kind of trance in which the world outside seems very noisy. As if each blade of grass had its own sound, each crackle of a leaf a percussion, each breath of wind its own note, which means I can bear to sit on this chair, still and quiet for a long time, so nothing bad can touch me.

By the time Bevins is finished it is already night. As we emerge from the church the light has faded to a fine line on the horizon and all around has turned to shadows. Everyone is exhausted and my head aches and my mouth is dry. After they finished casting her demon out, Alex fell into a sobbing sleep on the cold floor of the church and Mr Bevins left her there and started going on about how there was so much to prepare for. He said the men were to help him, that the countdown had started, beginning tonight. That we had to say goodbye to New Canaan, imagine we were putting something to bed. And then the twins started crying and became restless, and Mary stood up and said we needed to get them back to the farmhouse and get them fed. But Bevins made her wait another hour while he gave another rambling speech about how it was more important to be right with God than to be fed.

Now Mary walks ahead, quickly, the twins pulling on each hand, whining that they are hungry. It’s a relief to be out in the air again, although it’s now cold and a thin drizzle has set in and I am soon soaked through. The other women walk ahead, carrying the lanterns and talking about the Rapture and about what exactly will happen in the final moments.

‘It’s faith that makes the difference,’ says Hannah. ‘Faith is what allows you to make leaps of the imagination, to really
see
God.’

Mother used to say that death was just a momentary thing, like passing through a door from one room to the next. That one of the joys of having faith was that there was nothing to be frightened of.

‘Do you think it will hurt?’ Ruth asks.

Hannah laughs. ‘Of course not! He is come to take us home!’

Margaret thinks there will be a fire that will consume us, though it will not be painful because we are faithful. It will be like the saints in the fiery furnace – though the fire burns hot we will feel it like a cool breeze. Unlike the fallen, whose flesh will melt like the wax of a candle, and their screams be heard all the way from the very depths of hell.

Mary Protheroe chides Margaret as she describes this. ‘There are children present,’ she says.

Margaret narrows her eyes. ‘They are not too young to hear the truth, Sister,’ she says piously. ‘Or to be possessed by demons,’ she adds pointedly. ‘You yourself have said it.’

‘Well, do you think it was appropriate for the service to last all day?’

‘When the men call the faithful it’s not for us to challenge it.’

‘But the boys!’ Her voice catches in her throat. ‘There’s no need for them to sit all day in church! They need to eat, they need fresh air, they need to play. We can’t live on prayers.’

Hannah turns, her sour face looking even meaner. ‘I don’t like the tone of your voice, Mary.’

‘Hannah, I will
not
starve my own children any longer for the sake of the meetings! Or lock them in the cellar!’ She sounds as if she’s about to cry. ‘I’m sick of this!’ she mutters. ‘It’s got nothing to do with God!’

‘
Lies!
’ Hannah thunders. ‘
Mary
. You’re forgetting yourself.’ Hannah’s voice is dense with warning. ‘You should address this with your husband. It’s our duty to be faithful, even into the last days. Aren’t you grateful? We’ve been called to know the hour and the day! Our faith has been rewarded with certainty. You should be preparing yourself for the glory!’

Mary snorts. ‘And how many times have we heard this?’

‘It’s
different
this time. They have the chapter and verse. It’s been confirmed in
three
separate prophecies. How can you deny the signs and wonders?’

Mary mutters something under her breath, stooping to pick up Paul, who is complaining about having to walk the distance back to the farmhouse.

Alex walks quietly beside me. Silent, trembling, clutching her arms around herself.

‘You OK?’ I say, touching her on the shoulder, but she shrugs me off, chewing her lip. I’m afraid that she’s angry with me. I feel like it’s my fault she got caught. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘You could have warned me they were outside!’ she hisses.

‘I didn’t see them till it was too late!’

‘
Now
what are we going to do?’

‘I don’t
know
!’

I want to talk to Father, to ask him if he is
sure
. It’s all happened too quickly. Now the moment has come, perhaps I will be found wanting. Will I be left behind? I’m not ready for the final judgement. But when I tried to ask him after church he just smiled at me weakly then brushed me away, told me not to worry myself. He’s staying in church with the elders, for a vigil, praying for directions, visions of what we should do next. My head spins.

Alex is walking so slowly she is almost standing still. ‘Come on, we’ve got to get back, it’s raining.’

‘I don’t want to go with them. This place is bullshit,’ she whispers. ‘They want to kill me.’

‘Don’t be silly! No one wants to kill you!’ But her words hit me somewhere deep in my stomach and I don’t want to show her that I’m afraid. I know what they did was not right, but I don’t know how to say it. Instead I say, ‘Well, if you didn’t have a demon in you, then it would not be necessary to chase it out!’ I can hear the words come out of my mouth but it’s as if they belong to someone else.

Her eyes grow wide. ‘You saw what they did to me! You think that’s OK?’

‘No, but . . .’ I say, ashamed and confused.

‘You’re just as bad as them!’

This hurts. I’m not like them, I think. I’m not. But that’s not what I say. ‘You’ve been sent to tempt me away from the glory and then I’ll never see my mother again! You’re disgusting. I wish you’d never come here!’

She stops and looks at me. I can see the hurt in the twist of her lips. I wish I could take the words out of the air and stuff them back into my face before she can hear them, but it’s too late.

‘Screw you,’ she snarls, and she runs on ahead of me.

‘Come back!’ I shout, but my words fall into empty space. All I can see is the jagged silhouettes of gorse and hawthorn and the dim lights of their lanterns just visible on the track ahead.

When we get to the farmhouse Alex refuses to look at me or sit next to me. Her face is the colour of the mashed potato. I feel terrible for what I said. I didn’t mean it. What I wanted to say was,
I’m afraid too
. But the words came out wrong. Another black mark against me on Judgement Day. I remember Father said once that when the Rapture comes we will see all our actions played out as if in a film and will have to watch and be accountable to God for everything we’ve done. This thought makes the blood in my veins run cold. I am sure I am not good enough for heaven and I will die in fear and torment and burn forever in the lake of fire.

Mary boils up some goats milk and gives it to us. The warmth of it radiates through my body with the comfort of a hug. I’m so hungry I don’t care that usually I can’t stand the strong flavour, and when it’s finished I wish there was more.

Alex stands up and asks to be excused. ‘I need to lie down,’ she says.

Mary nods. ‘Of course. Rebekah, you can put the twins to bed in a moment.’

In the kitchen I can hear her heavy footsteps climbing the stairs.

‘So young. So much sin,’ Hannah says, shaking her head.

‘Hold your judgement, Hannah. There was no need to make such a spectacle of her. She’s only a child,’ says Mary.

‘A child with a demon, nonetheless,’ says Hannah. ‘She broke into Bevins’s cabin! She was possessed!’

‘Hmmm,’ Mary says. ‘So they say.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, she’s obviously upset, but that’s not the same as being possessed.’

‘But her tattoo!’ Margaret says. ‘It’s the sign of the devil!’

Mary brushes her hand in the air. ‘Or perhaps it’s just a tattoo.’

‘It’s not for us to question, Mary,’ Margaret says with a dangerous voice, as she stalks out of the room.

Mary gets up to see to the dishes, but she’s angry. I can tell by the way that she clatters plates in the sink. It’s unusual for her to be this outspoken. Ruth sits quietly with her hands in her lap and stares into the empty space as if she’s waiting for something to happen.

I take the twins upstairs. The attic is quiet. Through the doorway to my room I can see the shadow of Alex’s body in the camp bed, her back to me.

The twins are restless and will not settle; they have already slept too much in church. They demand one story after another and Paul keeps getting out of bed wanting to play. All the while I can see the shape of Alex’s back in the bed and all I want to do is to press myself into it, to feel the warmth between us, tell her I’m sorry, promise that together we’ll make another plan.

I can hear noises downstairs, doors opening and closing, the heavy tread of Micah climbing the stairs. It’s odd that even though the Rapture is supposed to be happening really soon, no one seems excited about it.

Finally the twins fall asleep and I get up stiffly and creep into my bedroom. I go over to the camp bed and gently touch her sleeping figure, only something is not right. It’s too soft . . . too . . . I realize I’m not pressing into a human body but into pillows and blankets rolled up.

I look round the room, but it’s obvious she’s not here. She must have sneaked out when no one was watching. I go back downstairs, quietly in case I wake anyone. If Mary finds me I will say I was thirsty and wanted a glass of water. But the kitchen is empty now and there’s no sign of anyone in the tack room. I push the door, but it doesn’t budge. I wonder for a moment if it’s locked, but it’s just swollen and stuck to the frame and it won’t give without forcing it, which will make a noise. I press my shoulder against it and the wood squeaks loudly. I hold my breath, but no one comes. I push again, and this time it opens with a quiet pop.