The Outside

by Laura Bickle

  “I don’t understand,” I whispered.

  “No one does,” Alex said. “He may not even understand himself. He’s speaking in tongues. The Spirit speaking through him. A gift.”

  I cocked my head. Why would God speak in a way that no one could understand?

  “He’s crazy,” Ginger whispered. I took her hands in mine, squeezed.

  “Quite possibly,” Alex agreed. “But I’m not sure that matters at the end of the world.”

  I shuddered at the sound of the squeak of fingertips on the window, the scrape of a fingernail. I heard high-pitched pleas outside. I wondered if Pastor Gene’s wife and children were there, if he’d flung himself into this ecstatic state to keep from looking at the chalky woman with the fathomless eyes behind the glass.

  “They can’t get in. They can’t call us. They don’t know us, have no tie to summon us. We’re safe here,” Alex said.

  A fat copperhead slid along the back of the pew, and Ginger’s nails dug into my palm.

  Her gaze was wide behind her glasses. “I’m not convinced.”

  “As long as God is convinced.” I screwed my eyes shut as a snake tongue flickered on the back of my sleeve.

  ***

  Thunder rolled in from the west. I tried to sleep but fell into a rigid doze, punctuated by Pastor Gene’s mumblings and pacing, the slither of snakes, the hiss of rain, and the wails of the vampires. I was afraid to let my feet touch the floor, but exhaustion dragged me under. I would nod off and start awake, hearing the roar of thunder and feeling each rustle of my dress and twitch of Ginger’s hand as the movement of a poisonous snake. At some point during the night, I felt Alex come sit beside us, the reassuring warmth of his side against mine.

  And the oil in the lamp burned out.

  This must be hell, I remembered thinking. I sat on the pew between Ginger and Alex, my fingers intertwined in theirs. Pastor Gene’s speaking in tongues had grown louder, almost furious. I heard the hissing of the snakes but couldn’t tell where they were. I saw vampires slipping against the wet windows. They reminded me of the fish one of my friends won at a carnival on Rumspringa, swimming against the plastic bag and brushing against the glass bowl.

  I prayed under my breath, prayed for morning to come.

  I prayed for the snakes to leave us all alone.

  I prayed for sleep.

  I prayed for the vampires to go away.

  I knew that it was wrong to ask for specific things from God. But I think that God heard me.

  The dim light outside the church began to lighten almost imperceptibly. I recognized that light, despite the rain. It was a fine change in the graininess of the dark, but it signaled that morning was coming.

  I blew out my breath, thanked God.

  Thunder crashed overhead, deep enough to rattle the pews and the timbers of the church. Pastor Gene paused in his hoarse litany. The hair on the back of my neck and arms rose. My body tingled. I smelled something metallic in the air.

  My heart leaped. I felt surreal. Light. Almost floating. As if God was close. I looked skyward, hopeful that perhaps this terrible Darkness was at an end.

  A blinding flash of lightning seared through the windows, and a deafening crash struck the roof.

  I jumped to my feet, jerking free of Alex and Ginger, and nearly stepped on a snake. I stumbled back and slapped my hand on the back of the pew. I felt something small and sharp sinking into my hand. I cried out, tripped. Alex caught me, and I could hear him swearing under his breath. I smelled something burning.

  I glanced upward. A dull orange glow was emanating from the roof. A spark drifted down, and a snake slithered away from it.

  “Lightning!” Alex shouted. “We have to get out of here.”

  “But the vampires,” Ginger said. “We can’t.”

  “It’s almost dawn,” I said.

  I turned to look for Pastor Gene. He was facing the altar, reduced to a black shadow in the lurid light. I smelled smoke, and it moved between us. “Pastor Gene!”

  His silhouette half turned toward us. I could feel snakes seething along the floor, like water flowing downstream. Orange light glistened along their scales. They sensed that fire was coming. Surely Pastor Gene could be shaken from his trance. The snakes were dropping from him as the smoke filled the tiny church. In the flickering light, he blinked at us, dazed.

  Alex lunged up to the altar, grabbed his arm. “You have to come. Now.”

  Ginger and I made our way to the back door. My vision was filled with yellow flames shining on black smoke. My eyes teared up, and I couldn’t breathe. I reached for the pawing white shape by the door, for Horace, and Ginger shoved the door open. Cool dark air sucked into the structure, shoving my skirts and the smoke behind me.

  I turned, and saw fire racing all along the roof of the church. Alex and Pastor Gene were stumbling toward the door. My hands were wound in Horace’s reins, and he dragged me out. My feet barely touched the steps as he lunged down, down into the dark.

  I gasped for air, wavering on my feet, coughing. Rain spat on my face. I heard Ginger coughing beside me. I braced myself to feel the bright pain of vampires tearing into my flesh, but no pain came. Through slitted eyes, I saw a bright ribbon of gold under gray clouds at the horizon.

  Dawn.

  A terrifying crash sounded from the church as the roof collapsed in on itself. The roof was too wet to burn, but the old timber beneath it went up like dry pine. This was like a fire that I’d seen as a child. A neighbor’s barn had burned to the ground in the winter, devoured by a conflagration that killed three men. The men in our community had rebuilt that barn, but I knew that wouldn’t happen with this church. Fear lanced through me when I realized that Alex wasn’t behind me.

  “Alex!” I screamed. I took two steps toward the door of the church, but Ginger grabbed me around the waist.

  “No!” she shouted. I struggled against her, screaming.

  Two dark shapes appeared in the ruined door frame, and I gasped in relief. Alex was supporting Pastor Gene, and they clambered down the burning steps to the cool of the grass. The last of the rain spangled the gloom and fire.

  I moved to embrace Alex, but my legs felt rubbery and didn’t obey. My hand burned. My heart pounded like the thunder and my breath came quickly.

  I stumbled. I fell to the ground and tugged up the edge of my sleeve to stare at my hand, dimly remembering the sting in the church. It had blossomed into a terrible pain, and blood trickled down my wrist into my elbow.

  My fingers spasmed, and I turned over and vomited into the wet dirt.

  I felt a shadow over me and cool hands on my wrist. Ginger ripped open my sleeve above the ripe, swollen flesh. Alex cradled my head in his lap. I could see Parson Gene above me.

  “She’s been snakebit,” Ginger said. “Did you see what kind of snake got you, sweetie?”

  I shook my head. That gesture caused my head to swim.

  “How bad is it?” Alex demanded.

  “Bad.” Pastor Gene’s face was white, white as a vampire’s. “It’s poisonous. Runners of poison are moving up her arm. I saw this once before . . . my uncle got bit by a copperhead when I was a boy.”

  “How did you stop the venom?”

  “We didn’t.”

  I blinked up into the drizzling dawn. I had not imagined that I would die this way. It was laughable, really. I expected to be chewed to pieces by vampires. Not poisoned by the bite of a snake.

  But a part of me had hoped that I’d survive this, that my faith would be strong enough to see myself and my friends through the Darkness. I wanted to believe that I was indeed favored by God and that I would eventually be united with my family in heaven. I wanted to believe that I was special. Loved.

  But that was impossible. Tears blurred my vision, and I hiccupped back a sob. What I had told Pastor Gene was true: I had not been baptized. But I had not told him what that meant. I was caught out. My baptized friends and family back home would go to heaven. Since I had not acce
pted God, I would be separated from them forever. In Darkness, alone.

  “We have to help her!” Alex gathered me in his arms and rushed toward the horse. The movement made me nauseated.

  “No.” I heard Pastor Gene’s voice. “There’s no one within riding distance who can help her. You’ll be carrying a corpse.”

  “We have to do something,” Alex said. I could feel him trembling, hear his heart roaring in his chest. “We can’t just let her die.”

  “Bring her here.” Ginger’s voice. I was tangled in arms and felt the ground beneath me. I heard a tearing sound, saw her tie white fabric from her apron around my shoulder.

  “She’ll lose her arm if you put a tourniquet on . . .” Alex began.

  “Better she lose her arm than die. Unless . . . that stuff that they show on television about sucking out poison works.” Ginger turned on Pastor Gene. “Does it?”

  “No. It’s a myth. The only thing that can save her from poison is to be full of the Holy Spirit. We have to pray.”

  “You . . . you shut up.” I could hear the fury in Alex’s voice. “This is your fault. You and your damn snakes.”

  “The Spirit hadn’t filled her up yet, so the snake—”

  I heard the thud of flesh on flesh. A blow. Alex had struck the pastor. I winced, tried to speak, but my lips felt swollen and rubbery.

  From some distance away Alex shouted,“This isn’t her fault! She’s the most pious person I’ve ever met.”

  I struggled to turn my head, to mouth the word “Stop.”

  Pastor Gene picked himself off the grass. He rolled up his sleeves. I saw the puckering of scars up and down his forearms. “I’ve been bit before. She can survive it. The Spirit is in her, just not filled her.”

  “How?” Alex demanded. “And don’t tell me to pray.”

  “I’ll pray, damn it. If that’s what it takes.” Ginger hovered over me, scraping wet hair from my forehead. “I’m not going to lose another child.”

  Sorrow and pride stung me. Ginger considered me to be one of her children. And was sad that I would be taken from her. Just like the others.

  “Bring her to the creek,” Pastor Gene said. “The water can cure her.”

  Alex lifted me, and I felt the bumping cadence of his walk over the uneven ground. His arms trembled, and I wondered if it was from the strain of carrying me or from fear. I felt grief to know that I would not learn to understand him better. To love him more deeply than I already did, to see where that spark of affection would have led us. With him, I might have had a life beyond the farm and marriage and children that was expected of me. And now I would never know.

  I began to pray in my head. I didn’t pray for salvation, or mercy—I just wanted to feel the comfort of the familiar words. I could feel my heart hammering so hard that I thought it would break.

  “Bring her into the water.”

  I heard the slosh and splash of Alex wading into the creek. I dimly wondered if the snakes were still there. Cold water dampened my skirts, and I felt the shock of the chill against my back.

  My right arm twitched, the muscles cramping up tight. My fingers curled into painful claws, and the hot sting of the venom coursed through my blood. I could feel it reaching, reaching toward my lungs and my heart. Water splashed around me, droplets rattling around. I could feel my jaw clench and hear my own breathing, very close.

  “She’s having a seizure,” I heard Alex say.

  Hands brushed my forehead. They were rough and callused. Pastor Gene’s hands. Alex’s and Ginger’s palms pressed my back, supporting me in the water. I swallowed a bit of the creek. It tasted like iron, cold and pure.

  “Heavenly Father, please grant us the gift of healing for Katie, your daughter in Christ. Fill her with the Holy Spirit and drive out the venom. In Jesus’ name, we pray . . .”

  His words grew unintelligible. Maybe he was speaking in tongues again. But it seemed that I couldn’t hear what Alex and Ginger said either. Ringing filled my ears. My muscles slackened as I felt the heat of the venom reach my heart. I stared up. I was suspended, weightless, between the prayer and white sky.

  I was nothing. I was less than a feather, dark and vanishing in that vast expanse.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  I don’t know that I ever had any particular thoughts or expectations about what heaven would be like. To be honest, I’d always been too caught up in the day-to-day details of life to really ponder it in more than a vague “someday” sort of way. Deep down, I wanted it to be a certainty. I expected it. I believed that I was good. And I believed that I’d have time to make up for all my sins.

  But the end of the world had undone all of that.

  And now I was going to be undone. Caught out. And lost from those I loved forever.

  I wondered if it would always be like this: the searing heat of the venom, the cold of the water, the pearly gray-white of the sky surrounding me. Gradually, it all faded, even the ringing and the sensation of water in my ears, leaving behind that sense of sky.

  I closed my eyes, savoring that feeling of the in-between.

  And sucked in my breath.

  It hurt to do so. It hurt more than anything I’d ever done. The air in my lungs seemed to sear their interior, but I made myself breathe.

  I was not yet done with life. I had too much left undone. I would fight for it.

  I stared, blinking. I saw three faces above me: Ginger, Pastor Gene, and Alex. There was such an awful expression of fear on Alex’s face that I wanted to reach up and wipe away.

  But I started to shiver.

  Alex broke into a smile, and his ice-blue eyes glistened. “You with us?”

  “Ja,” I said, through chattering teeth. “I am.”

  “She’s freezing,” Ginger said. “Bring her to the fire.”

  It took the three of them to haul my sodden body from the creek, up the bank. I was in Alex’s arms, and I pressed my ear to his chest as he carried me toward the burning church. I could feel the heat on my back, but I shivered violently. Alex sat behind me, wrapping his arms around me, and rested his chin on my hair.

  I stared down at my hand. It was swollen to three times its normal size, gone black and red as a rotten apple. It didn’t look like my own body—it looked like something that belonged on a corpse. Pink water drained from the wound. It throbbed, but not with the sharp viciousness as before. Ginger huddled over it and began wrapping it up in fabric from her apron.

  “It’s a miracle,” Pastor Gene said, crouching beside us.

  “Ja,” I said, too exhausted to argue.

  And the four of us watched the church burn down, blackening and curling in on itself in silence.

  I fell asleep and dreamed of a snake.

  It wasn’t just any snake.

  In the dream, I was back at home in my village. Night shrouded me in a soft blanket of darkness, and I was walking through the field toward my house. I’d recognize that sharp roofline against a starry sky anywhere. A light burned brightly inside. I ran toward the house, but it seemed that the light kept moving farther away.

  Ravens cawed in the sky, darker specks of black against the purple night. They moved as one, south, away from the land I knew and loved. I knew that something terrible must have disturbed them.

  But I was determined to make it to the house. At last, I reached the back step. I tugged open the screen door.

  In the light of a lantern, I saw a familiar silhouette.

  “Elijah,” I breathed.

  He turned toward me. He was taller than I was, with dark hair and hazel eyes. But his gaze was hooded. I’m not sure of the exact point at which I began to think of him as my enemy. Maybe it was when he had gotten baptized before I did, crossed that invisible divide from ordinary to blessed. Maybe when he had insisted that I do it, as well, and that we should be married without tasting the Outside world. But it was certainly when he found Alex and me together and brought the Elders to my doorstep.

  I flinched away from him. “What a
re you doing here?”

  He looked at me from under the brim of his hat. “What are you doing here? You don’t belong here anymore.”

  A lump rose in my throat. I had no answer. I wanted to say: “This is my home. Of course I belong here.” But the words would not come.

  I heard something beyond him, in the living room. I knew that sound, from the church.

  I pushed past Elijah to see what it was. I stopped cold in my tracks.

  Something lay in the shadows, bloated and dark. It curled around the room, thick and black as a rotting tree trunk. It was a massive snake, at least thirty feet long. It scraped around the bottom of table legs, behind the couch and wooden chairs and treadle sewing machine, its scales moving against the hardwood floors.

  Impossible.

  I knew it for what it was. It was no snake. It was pure evil. It was in my house.

  I wheeled to Elijah. “You let it in.”

  He stared past me. The snake’s head, as large as a pumpkin, came into view. Its eyes reflected the lantern light like those of the vampires. I could tell that Elijah was hypnotized by it. Glamoured.

  I grasped his arm and shook it. “Where are my parents? Where is Sarah?”

  Dazed, he pointed to the snake. It gathered its coils to itself, and then I noticed that it had a lumpy, engorged shape.

  I stopped breathing. As it slid past me, I counted one lump . . . two lumps . . . three lumps.

  The snake turned its head toward me and opened its mouth. Its fangs were as white as a vampire’s, and its hiss was the one I heard from the undead creatures in the night.

  The sound of a predator.

  ***

  I woke with a start, against Alex’s shoulder.

  “Shhh.” He stroked my hair. “It’s all right.”

  I felt warmth on my face. But it wasn’t the heat of the fire. The church had burned down to black timbers and red embers. What I felt was the warmth of the late morning sun, melting through the last of the gray clouds.