The Dark Light

by Julia Bell

  ‘Thomas!’ I wonder how he knew that I was here. Did he follow me?

  ‘Don’t move!’

  I slowly raise my hands. ‘OK,’ I say. ‘It’s OK.’

  He nods but keeps the gun trained on me. Would he actually shoot me?

  ‘Thomas! You can’t do this! What about the commandment? Thou shalt not kill. You’ll go to hell! You won’t be Raptured!’ My voice sounds wheedling, hopeless. I stand up slowly. I have known him since he was a child; he was never this mean or this devout.

  ‘Step away from me!’ he says, then very quickly points the gun at the ceiling and shoots. There’s a flash and a bang and a loud ricochet, and splinters of wood fall from the ceiling. ‘Believe me, I will kill you. Bevins says I won’t go to hell, because you are sent from the realms of Satan and must be contained.’ He jabs the gun at me again. ‘You’re not real! You’re a shadow, filled with the devil. If I shot you now, you wouldn’t bleed, you’d turn to dust.’

  ‘Thomas! It’s me! Rebekah! What are you talking about?’

  ‘The devil. She passed it on to you. It jumped from her to you. Except you can’t feel it. No one that is infected with sin can feel it. Not till it’s too late.’

  ‘He’s right.’ Alex appears in the doorway. I look at her. What is she doing here with Thomas? ‘I had the demon, but it went into her.’

  ‘See!’ He turns to me. ‘Bevins said you’d been duped. He was right. But we are here! Warriors in Christ! Bevins will protect us because he has come to take us home.’

  I look at Alex. She’s not serious, surely. I bow my head. It’s like someone has removed her brain.

  ‘Alex! It’s not true! It’s just Mr Bevins talking!’ But her eyes seem to look right through me. ‘Alex! What has he done to you?’

  ‘He’s set me free,’ she says.

  Thomas comes close with the gun and jabs it close to my face. I stare at Alex, expecting her to laugh or wink at me, something, anything, a signal that she’s still there inside.

  ‘It’s going to be OK,’ I whisper. ‘I know you’re just going along with him.’

  But she ignores me like I’m irrelevant and turns to Thomas. ‘Come on, we’ve got to get back.’

  ‘Alex!’ I can’t believe she’s going along with all this.

  Thomas motions at me with the gun. ‘Walk!’ he says, forcing me out of the boathouse and on to the path, back towards the farm.

  He takes the torch from me and holds it, lighting our way, but I stumble.

  ‘Do you really think that the Rapture is going to come tonight the way Bevins says?’ I ask him. ‘Don’t you think he’s mad?’

  ‘Don’t talk!’ Thomas comes up behind me, prodding me in the back with the gun.

  I drag my heels as we walk the path from the church, where the lights of the perpetual candles keep a dim glow shining through the windows. I wish it was possible to stop the clock so that there never would be another hour or another day.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  REBEKAH

  When we get to the farmhouse everyone is already in the field stood around the fire. They are wearing the robes that Hannah and Margaret have made.

  Bevins is standing on a hay bale, reading something from the Book of Revelation. He pauses when he sees us, but does not stop until we are close.

  ‘At last, we are all here!’ He claps his hands together. ‘You know what it says: “Joy shall be in heaven over one sinner that repenteth.” Well, here she is!’

  I think he is speaking about me, but he walks right past me and embraces Alex. He holds her hand and lifts it to the sky. ‘It’s as I saw it, the sinner come to repent in the final hours.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Alex says quietly. ‘Thank you. All of you.’ She doesn’t look at me.

  ‘Praise God!’ says Hannah.

  ‘Of course there were those who were trying to thwart us,’ he says, looking at me and shaking his head. ‘But I have eyes and ears everywhere.’ He sounds as if he is about to cry, but sucks it back in through his teeth.

  Hannah shakes her head and tuts. Of course it was her. Snitching. Trying to gain favour. She must have been spying on me and Mary.

  I look for Mary in the crowd. She is standing at the back with the boys. When I catch her eye she looks away, but in the light of the lanterns I can see the sparkle of tears.

  ‘You thought you could leave and betray our birthright! Spoil what God had given us! But I know who you are! You who would betray us! But I am stronger than he who would destroy us. By the grace of God in me, you will not prevail! He sees everyone and everything!’

  He pulls me roughly, and I wince. ‘Let me go!’ And for one moment I think he means throw me on to the pyre, but instead he drags me away and shoves me next to Margaret.

  ‘You will repent when you see the face of your God! More terrifying and more glorious than anything you could ever imagine! I have seen it!’ He’s spitting at me now and he has that look in his eye that makes my stomach lurch in fear. I just stare at the ground. ‘And then you will be left behind! That’s when your suffering will start. Doubter! Liar! Who are you to think you can change the course of our destiny!’

  He gives me one of the white robes. The square of cloth is rigid after the washing and it hangs stiffly like it is made of cardboard. Everyone is wearing one now.

  Then he makes us stand in front of the pyre and recite a long and slow Lord’s Prayer. It reeks of petrol, which makes me nauseous; the dead sheep and goats are shrunken now, and many have had their eyes pecked out by the birds. I try to hold my breath. I wonder where they got the petrol from – Bevins said we didn’t have enough to run the generator. In the middle, penned in, are the live animals, scrabbling about and bleating.

  When we are finished Bevins looks up. ‘Time!’ he shouts, turning to Jonathan, who holds a digital wristwatch close to his face, squinting in the dim light.

  ‘Seventeen minutes past eleven!’

  ‘Less than one hour!’ Bevins says. ‘Thanks to my guidance, my prophecy, we are here today ready to be Raptured! Light the offering!’

  He nods at Father, who strikes a taper and throws it into the centre of the pyre which ignites in a whoosh, and the fire is suddenly blindingly ablaze. The livestock panic, try to clamber over each other, but they can’t escape and soon they succumb to the heat and the flames. I can’t watch. Everyone steps back, the flames are so loud and close and hot. Steam rises from the carcasses of the dead sheep, their wool heavy and oily, belching out a thick smoke which swirls around us, making me cough. A breeze catches the flames and sends a flare out towards the edge of the field. Hannah squeals and jumps back; her robe has caught fire on the hem. Quickly she rips it off and stamps on it.

  ‘He’s here.’

  Bevins looks towards the sky, hands raised. Against the fierce light of the fire he appears as a shadow, hair blowing across his face like strands of wool caught in the hawthorn. ‘He’s coming for His children.’

  He passes around the cup from which we must all drink, the murky wine that he says means we are now cleansed and ready to take our steps into the next world that waits for us. I take a sip, but this time don’t swallow. It tastes like sweet mud, it makes me want to retch. I hold it in my mouth and when he has moved on down the line I dribble it out on the sleeve of my dress, letting the liquid soak into the material. I look at Alex. She is swaying on her feet, too close to the fire muttering to herself.

  ‘I can hear trumpets!’ Hannah says. ‘The voices of the angels!’

  ‘He’s with us now!’ Mr Bevins says. ‘Brothers, Sister, come with me. It will be as if you have just passed through an open door!’

  Before me the bonfire crackles and pops.

  ‘Time, Jonathan!’

  ‘Ten minutes to midnight,’ Jonathan shouts over the sound of the blazing fire. Sparks rise into the sky and mingle with the stars.

  ‘Only ten minutes!’ Bevins says, falling on to his knees. ‘So it begins.’

  The flames rise higher, a white hot bu
rning that draws in the whole world until it seems like the centre of everything.

  Then Bevins breaks out into a chorus of ‘Abide with Me’ and is joined by Hannah and Margaret until everyone is singing. Jonathan has his eyes closed and is reaching his hands towards heaven and for a moment it seems possible that time will be snatched from us, and suddenly we will rise till we are above it all, like the angels. Alex holds her arms above her head.

  But it is a long ten minutes that everyone is on their knees waiting, and the wet ground soaks through my dress and makes my knees muddy. The fire rises to its peak and then begins to die back. There is a terrible smell from the burning livestock, and deep in the heart of the fire there is still a heavy core of dead animal flesh which hasn’t burned properly and which throws out an acrid smoke.

  Jonathan checks his watch. ‘Pastor, Mr Bevins, it is the hour,’ he says.

  I hold my breath.

  Nothing.

  Hannah repeats, ‘Come, Lord Jesus,’ over and over again, and Naomi wails, speaking loudly in tongues until Bevins turns and glares at her.

  ‘Shut up, woman!’ he barks. ‘You’re not helping to hasten the moment!’

  Jonathan keeps staring at his watch, as if he cannot believe that time is still ticking forward. ‘Perhaps my watch is a little fast, like,’ he says, shaking it.

  ‘Keep praying!’ Bevins roars. ‘Keep praying!’

  He stands up and makes lifting gestures with his arms, as if he is trying to fan the flames that will take us to heaven.

  ‘He must listen to us! We are here! We are ready. Oh Lord, come! Take us!’

  And as the fire continues to roar and the sky turns slowly above out heads, none disappear or appear to be Raptured. Nothing comes down from heaven. Through the flames I watch the skeleton outline of a goat’s ribcage, before it disintegrates into the embers.

  ‘Time, Jonathan!’ Bevins roars again.

  He fumbles in his pocket. ‘Quarter to one,’ he says.

  ‘Give me that!’ Bevins snatches the watch from Jonathan and stares at it. ‘This watch is still set to winter time!’ He laughs. ‘How could I doubt Him who loves us?! Even for one second!’

  He gives the watch back to Jonathan, hitting him across the chest so that Jonathan winces. ‘Fool!’ he mutters.

  He makes Jonathan count down the last ten minutes. Nine, eight, seven six . . . three, two one . . .

  And the hour comes and passes, and again nothing.

  Bevins is silent then, prostrate before the dwindling fire. No one moves until he stands up and begins mumbling to himself, running his hands through his hair, his face streaked with tears. A few people stand, Mary, Gideon, then Father and Hannah. Alex is on her knees praying as if her life depended on it. I go over to her and touch her on the shoulder. She half opens one eye.

  ‘Alex. Alex, it’s over, you don’t have to pretend any more!’ I whisper.

  She jumps away from me. ‘Get away from me! Liar!’

  I flinch away from her. ‘But . . .’

  The others are all gathered around Bevins.

  ‘Don’t take it so hard,’ Father says, embracing him.

  ‘You are nothing but goodness to us,’ says Hannah, reaching out and Joining their embrace. She holds him close for a long while and he seems to be sobbing in disappointment, until he pushes her away.

  ‘I have such a headache,’ he says. ‘It’s clouding my thoughts. Why did He not come to us? What have I overlooked?’

  ‘You have not overlooked anything!’ Hannah says.

  ‘There will be another explanation to this. We must ask God to reveal His purpose,’ says Father.

  ‘How do you know?’ He looks at them furiously. ‘How do you know? He spoke to me. It’s me who needs to find the answer. Me who needs to think! I need prayer!’

  He clutches at his head, pulling his hair.

  The fire is beginning to ebb, the warmth retreating back towards the centre. Instinctively we have all drawn closer together. Suddenly Mary is at my side.

  ‘I knew it wouldn’t come,’ she says softly. ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘I’m sorry. I tried to get away,’ I say croakily. ‘But they’ve smashed up the boat. And Alex . . .’ I nod at her pliant figure. ‘He’s done something to her.’

  Mary nods. ‘I know.’ The twins are at her feet, sombre and quiet, their eyes half closed. It’s unnatural for them to be awake so late; she could probably tuck them under a hedge and they would fall asleep. ‘I’m going to put them to bed,’ she says. ‘And let’s hope that this is the end of all this nonsense.’

  ‘I need some water.’

  ‘Of course you do,’ and she moves to give me a draught from her flask. But then Bevins is standing in front of us.

  ‘What are you doing?’ he asks.

  Mary bites her lip and does not look at him. ‘I’m taking the boys to bed. They need their sleep.’

  ‘They can sleep in the church!’ he says. ‘We are in the hour between this world and the next. We must all listen for answers. We must offer ourselves until there is an answer. We must find out why he has turned His face away from us. Come on!’ He moves his arms like a herdsman, like we’re just ornery livestock that need gathering up. ‘Especially you.’ He comes close to my face. ‘Traitor!’

  I look at his eyes. The piercing blue doesn’t seem so visionary any more; they are desperate, watery.

  ‘What did you do to my mother?’ I shout at him now. ‘Why did you keep all her letters? You’re a liar! You can’t see God!’

  He stares at me as if he wishes he could set me on fire. ‘Thomas, come here.’

  Thomas lumbers over still holding the gun. When Mary sees him she starts to walk quickly away with the boys tucked in close against her body.

  ‘To the church!’

  ‘You heard him,’ Thomas says, pointing ahead with the gun. ‘Go on.’

  I stumble forward, the path lit only by the dying embers of the fire, the kind of dark light that does not shine bright enough to illuminate the way.

  TWENTY-SIX

  REBEKAH

  When we reach the church Bevins orders that I be sat at the front.

  ‘The demon is still here – it has just jumped from one to the other.’ He looks at Alex and then at me. ‘It’s because of you He hasn’t come!’

  ‘Let. Me. Go!’ I fight against their grasp. ‘I am not possessed of the devil, you are!’

  Father bends to my ear. ‘Examine your heart. You must confess,’ he whispers loud enough for everyone to hear. ‘It’s the only way.’

  ‘You’re a liar!’ I shout. ‘You’re all liars! You’ve let me think all these long years that my mother was dead!’

  If Mother was here she wouldn’t allow this, I know it. All because the Rapture didn’t happen. Mother would have found a way, with Mary Protheroe, to contain them, to temper Bevins’s manic enthusiasm, give him tasks to do, keep him level. I can see all that now, but I don’t know what I can do about it.

  Alex sits beside me.

  ‘It’s better if you confess,’ she says. ‘Just let go of all your stubbornness. Just let it all go.’

  I look at her, close to me now, the freckles on her nose, the way her lips pinch into little peaks, the stray eyelash on her cheeks.

  ‘Alex,’ I say softly, as if I could reach through all the junk that Bevins has filled her with and find the real person inside, the one who kissed me in the barn. ‘Alex. Please.’

  ‘Don’t be afraid, Rebekah. It’s better this way,’ she says. But when I look at her I think my heart will break.

  ‘No, it’s not.’ And for a moment I think I see a flicker of the old Alex in her eyes, but just as quickly she closes it down.

  Naomi comes to the front, points a finger at my face and makes a weird gesture with her tongue and then a kissing sound.

  ‘Go away!’ I hiss at her. ‘Hag.’

  I look at the others, everyone sitting obediently, hands in their laps. Why is no one moving?

  Bevins cle
ars his throat, raises his eyes and looks up. ‘He is there in His heaven, looking down at us and waiting, longing to come, but that we would all let him into our hearts by renouncing the devil! But there is a blockage, something in the way that must be overcome. Another battle to fight. Another victory we must claim for him. What do you say? Do you confess?’

  ‘I have nothing to confess! You’re mad! Let me go!’

  He comes towards me and puts his hand on my forehead.

  ‘Rebekah, you’re burning up! Satan himself is inside of you. Satan himself! Do you not see that you cannot leave? You cannot leave us. God will not allow it. I will not allow it.’

  ‘You’re full of shit,’ I say. ‘I want to see my mother.’ Something inside me has broken. I don’t care any more what they think. It won’t make any difference. Who I am is not who they say. I’m just a chess piece to him, someone to move around the board of his mind.

  He takes a step back. ‘It’s a strong one, Brothers! We must starve it out of her! We must exhaust it! We must break its will!’

  His voice is hoarse, spittle and dirt in the corners of his mouth, his eyes aren’t even focusing. I try to catch Father’s eye but he’s kneeling, his head bowed, his lips muttering prayers on over and over. Everyone is under Bevins’s spell.

  I close my eyes again and Bevins’s voice drones on, reading from the Bible now, and the noise, this black sound, like a dark shadow against a red background, a persistent blah blah blah in my ear. I wish it would stop – I can’t hear what it says any more, only that the constant noise makes it impossible to think. And he won’t shut up, he won’t shut up, he won’t shut up, the whole time he just keeps talking to fill the silence, to fill everyone up with his talking, so in the end no one has enough room in their head to be able to think anything for themselves.

  I drift in and out of awareness. Some people have fallen asleep. There is the sound of soft crying coming from behind me. A few mutters of ‘Lord, please come’.

  Next to me Alex is on her knees, and Bevins is prostrate before the altar, and Father is still kneeling where he was before. I have only been asleep for a few minutes. I am so confused. I can hear singing, maybe it is the Archangel Michael and all the angels, come to carry us home. For a moment my stomach lurches, and I’m thinking that perhaps it’s true after all. Oh Lord, let me not be left behind. But then I think it sounds more like a folk song that Mary might hum in the kitchen, or a lullaby from when I was a baby, my mother in my memory, singing to me.