Nailgun Messiah (Micah Reed Book 1)

by Jim Heskett

  Her words had come out jittery and unsure. Something in her tone made Benedict uneasy, so he chose his words carefully. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”

  She paused again, longer this time. Through the grate, he could see the mass of blonde curls sway as she breathed.

  “This was probably a bad idea.”

  At any second, she was going to get up and leave, and he didn’t want that to happen. He struggled to come up with the right thing to say to keep her in the booth.

  “You’re safe here,” he said. “No one has to know that you’ve met with me. The old ways of judgment and repetitive prayers as penance… it doesn’t have to be like that. We can talk about anything you want.”

  She sniffled. “I did something bad. When they find out about it, they’ll kick us out of the house.”

  “Who’s going to kick you out? Your parents?”

  “No, my parents live far away.”

  “Okay,” Benedict said. “Who, then?”

  “I can’t tell you. I can’t tell anyone. But it’s a secret so big that I don’t see any way they won’t be able to find out. I came down here from Ottawa to marry him, and now she has my passport.”

  He tried to follow her vague statements, but too many questions swirled around Benedict’s head. But at least now he knew she was a little older than he’d first thought. “Who has your passport?”

  She didn’t answer, only cried softly on the other side of the divider. He had to start slower, to gain her trust. She was obviously here because she needed help.

  “My name is Father Benedict. Thomas Benedict. I haven’t been in Ned for very long, maybe even less time than you, so we have that in common. Will you tell me your name?”

  “Hannah.”

  “Okay, Hannah. Anything you tell me will never be repeated outside of this booth. If something is troubling you, don’t feel like you have to carry it around all on your own. Tell it to me and God, and let us help you shoulder the weight.”

  “She only let me move into the house with him because she knew him since he was little, and I promised her I would stop being a Catholic. She told me priests were worse sinners than anyone in their congregation, and following them would be to believe in Babylon’s lies.”

  Babylon. A dark sense of realization settled over Benedict. Nederland was a small town, and he remembered seeing a woman at the Indian restaurant, a tall woman with a shaved head and striking features. This woman had been ranting at her dinner companions about the evils of religion, repeatedly using that word Babylon.

  “You live in the house off Caribou Road,” Benedict said. “The one back in the trees, below the big hill.”

  Hannah burst into tears, sobbing openly. He wanted to walk around the divider and comfort her, but knew he couldn’t. All he had were words and the promise of God’s forgiveness, and neither of those seemed to be getting the job done.

  She stood, and he caught a glimpse of her face through the grate. Young and pretty. Early twenties, with pale skin and brilliant blue eyes.

  “I shouldn’t have come here,” she said. “I’m sorry I wasted your time.”

  The curtain whipped back and she fled out into the church, but before Benedict could rise to go after her, someone else entered the booth.

  “Bless me father, for I have sinned,” a man said.

  CHAPTER NINE

  16 DAYS UNTIL

  Lilah tilted Micah’s drivers license in her hand, flicking her thumb back and forth across the laminated corner. As her skin connected with the plastic, she imagined bacteria from the license leaping onto her flesh, embedding itself, feeding on her cells to thrive and multiply.

  She tried not to think about it. Focus on the task at hand.

  Behind her, reclining in a chair near her bed, Eagle sighed. He was whittling a stick of wood, probably into another flute. He was always making pointless things that served no purpose.

  She couldn’t see him, but the flicking of the knife against wood filled her ears. Shick. Shick. Shick. “You’re not letting those wood shavings gather on my floor, are you?”

  “I have a trashcan here,” Eagle said in his deep and throaty voice. “Relax.”

  With Micah’s ID in hand, she scribbled in the last of the fields to complete his application to visit the prison. Then, she turned her attention back to her laptop, at the unfinished website they’d been building and perfecting for months.

  “Is it ready?” Eagle said.

  “I think so. I’m not sure what else I can do.”

  The whittling halted, and she could feel his eyes boring into the back of her head. Heat from the glare, making the base of her scalp warm.

  “Then why haven’t you activated it?”

  She spun in her chair to face him. The acne scars on his face repulsed her, but there was something about the blackness of his eyes that she’d always found intriguing. Like looking into a cave below ground, deep into nothingness. A place scary and safe at the same time.

  “Maybe we should wait until Cyrus comes home. It’s not even three weeks now.”

  Eagle lifted his cylindrical carving and held it at eye-level, checking the straightness. “If he finds out you’ve delayed the launch, he won’t be pleased. Aren’t we already past the date?”

  And she new Eagle was right. They should have activated the True Manna website a week ago. Cyrus’ release date was March 13th, the same day the Frozen Dead Guy Days Festival began in the town. While Nederland flooded with tourists from Denver and all over the nearby states who wanted to come out to see the freakshow and drink high-altitude beer, she would be transporting Cyrus home.

  For the first time in many years, she would see him in street clothes, a prospect that seemed foreign. So much patience required. Through the appeals and parole hearings, though all the awkward visits in Limon Correctional Facility where she was allowed to touch him exactly twice, and no kissing, no celebration. No expressing their love.

  Cyrus’ patience had always given her strength. She didn’t want to disappoint that great man by delaying the website any longer.

  But then, she thought about what Eagle had said. If he finds out. How would Cyrus find out, unless Eagle told him? She angled in her chair to study the Indian. Would he tell Cyrus she had been hesitant, and would Cyrus forgive her for it?

  Eagle met her eyes, then raised an eyebrow.

  “You don’t seem happy,” he said.

  She let out a hiss through clenched teeth. She turned back to her laptop without answering him, but she could still feel him watching her. Observing her.

  She let the tension roll out of her shoulders and exhaled. Being suspicious of Eagle was silly. Aside from Cyrus, there was no one in the world that she relied upon more. Something unrelated was going on to make her wary of this person she trusted, but she couldn’t pinpoint that thing.

  “I am happy,” she said, although she didn’t believe it. “He’s coming home soon. I just haven’t been sleeping well the last few nights.”

  She stared at the checkbox on the website builder on her laptop. Test mode on, it read, with the box checked. When she unchecked that box, the True Manna website would be live to the world. It would become real and people everywhere would see it.

  “When this website goes out to the world,” she said, “everything will change. Everyone will know us. It may be infamy, or it may be joyousness, but nothing will ever be the same.”

  “They’ll say we’re a cult.”

  Anger flared. “We are not a cult,” she said through bared teeth.

  He sighed, not biting on her show of anger. He folded the blade of the knife and put it away. “Are you worried about what that increased attention will do to our friend down in the basement?”

  She worried about that every moment of every day, but didn’t want Eagle to think she was afraid. She waved a dismissive hand. “No, it’s not that. We’ve been as careful as humanly possible.”

  “Then what?”

  Lilah honestly didn’t know. />
  She rested her hand below the trackpad and moved the mouse cursor to hover over the test mode checkbox. They had to locate the faithful out there in the world; the one hundred and forty-four thousand who would be chosen. And when the lamb Cyrus returned from exile to rediscover his home, he would show them the way.

  She unchecked the box.

  Part II

  1623

  CARIBOU

  CHAPTER TEN

  14 DAYS UNTIL

  Micah and Rodney hiked as far up the trail behind the house as they could before they had to don their snowshoes. The snow was packed enough on the lower parts of the trail that they’d only needed boots, but now they were sinking into the softer drifts as they gained elevation.

  Rodney pointed to a couple rocks at the side of the trail and unbuckled his backpack. He already seemed a bit out of breath, but handling it better than Micah had.

  “I’ve never been snowshoeing before,” Micah said as he lifted the plastic and metal things that were strapped to his pack. His chest pounded.

  “I love it,” Rodney said. “Being out in the pure white snow, the cold and the quiet. I think I like it better than hiking, even.”

  “You do this growing up?”

  “Nope. Where I grew up, it’s flat and hot. That’s why I think I won’t ever get sick of these mountains. Just think about it: tectonic plates colliding, forcing the earth to rise thousands of feet. It’s pretty sensational.”

  “True.” Micah dropped the snowshoes on the ground and studied them for a minute. There were trays for the heels of his feet, and some kind of strap system was supposed to go over the top of his foot, but he couldn’t tell how to put it on from looking at it.

  “Little help here?” Micah said as he fumbled with the straps.

  Rodney cleared his throat and knelt down in front of Micah to help get his feet into the snowshoes. When Rodney was done, he looked up, his face only a few inches from Micah’s. A second of awkwardness hung there, as if Rodney had wanted to say something, but the moment quickly evaporated as Rodney got to his feet and retreated a step. “It’s going to feel weird at first. You have to take bigger strides.”

  Micah extended his collapsible hiking poles to 125mm, then buckled his backpack and cinched it tight to his body. He took a couple practice steps in a circle, and it felt like he was trying to walk with clown-sized sandals dangling from his feet. “I see what you mean.”

  “But now, we can blaze our own trail without going knee-deep. It’s about to get fun.”

  Rodney stamped up the side of the hill, barely sinking into the snow as he batted down a thin path for Micah to follow. Micah kept his own steps inside Rodney’s tracks, because he wasn’t sure about tramping off into the snowy wilds yet. Under that snow could be rocks or shrubs or any number of things to catch his ankles.

  Today was Saturday, which meant they were not allowed to do any work, and not permitted to go into town to shop or eat at restaurants. Saturdays were for quiet reflection and independent Bible study. Lilah had been in a foul mood the last few days, but when Rodney had asked her if she minded him and Micah hiking, she’d shrugged her approval. The men could plan activities together, but not men and women together.

  And Micah had made no progress with Magda. His sister avoided him at work, as did Hannah. They were both determined to follow these silly house rules at any place or any time, like monks with a ridiculous vow of inter-gender silence.

  Rodney hiked at an angle, traversing a few hundreds yard at a slight rise, then he would turn sharply and hike back the other way, slowly increasing their elevation with each dog-leg bend. His pace was relentless.

  Micah considered himself to be in decent shape for a guy pushing thirty and who didn’t get to the gym that often, but this activity was exhausting him more quickly than he’d anticipated. After the fourth or fifth turn, he stopped, leaned on his poles, gasping for air.

  “Need a break?” Rodney said, barely seeming winded.

  Micah nodded, trying to settle down. Each inhale of the frigid air burned his lungs. “Has Lilah always made breakfast every day?”

  “Usually. She’s a great cook, isn’t she? Just wait until she makes Belgian waffles. You’ll dream about them for days.”

  Enough with the small talk. Micah glanced back at the house, and figured they were far enough away that they could talk openly. “These people who come over for Bible study… what’s their story? Are they believers?”

  “Some of them. Some want to know what goes on at this house they’ve heard about, so they show up, listen to Lilah interpret the scripture, then they may or may not come back. Curious people. We encourage them to come back, but there’s no fuss if they don’t.”

  “Does Lilah let them join if they want?”

  Rodney made a face and tilted his head from side to side. “Depends on what you mean by join, I suppose. The simple answer is no. She’d rather turn someone away than accept them. I know it seems strange that we’re so selective, since we’re trying to save people, but you have to trust that there’s a method to it. Most people aren’t worthy.”

  Rodney swatted a hand at his backpack until he found the tube for his Camelbak, then popped the spout in his mouth and took a few sips. “Is it good to be with your sister again?”

  “It would be if I could talk to her.”

  Rodney gave a knowing smile. “Lilah keeps the rules close to her heart and she’s not one to bend very often. There’s a method to that, too.”

  Micah studied him. He and Rodney hadn’t spent much time together, but Micah thought he detected a hint of understanding and sympathy in Rodney’s tone. Or maybe not. Micah couldn’t figure this guy out.

  “We’re not getting the website traffic she expected, apparently,” Rodney said.

  Micah thought he’d give Rodney a little test. “Is that why she’s been such a bitch?”

  Rodney giggled, and Micah knew he’d made the right move.

  “Yeah, you could say that,” Rodney said.

  Rodney wasn’t fully invested, despite the way he talked about Lilah. Micah decided to push it a bit farther. “The day I got here, she hit Magda. Back-handed her right in front of me.”

  Rodney darkened, and Micah worried that he might be shutting down, preparing to trot out the company line. “It’s best to let those things go. All I can say is that it happens sometimes.”

  “Why does it happen?”

  “I haven’t been at the house long enough to know what it was like before Cyrus went to prison, but I understand he used to do things differently. He’s getting out soon, and for all I know, everything may change. I can only hope that if it does, it’s for the better. I believe it will, because he’s a good man.”

  “Man?” Micah said. “I thought he was the lamb of God?”

  Rodney looked even more uncomfortable now. Micah decided to take a chance and dive deeper. “Why are you here, Rodney?”

  Rodney sighed at the snow-covered branches of the trees surrounding them. He smiled at the sun peeking over the mountains, throwing yellow across the white. “I like to snowshoe.”

  “No, why are you at the house? You said Lilah was helping you.”

  Rodney took a few more sips from his Camelbak. “For most of my life, I’ve had these… urges… that aren’t natural. I don’t want to have them anymore.”

  Urges? What kind of urges could he be talking about?

  The revelation came over Micah suddenly, and he could have smacked himself for not seeing it sooner. “You’re praying the gay away.”

  The comment had slipped out, but Rodney didn’t seem to take offense to it. “But I’m not gay, that’s the thing. That’s what she’s helping me see. The answers are there in the Bible. It’s just a matter of interpreting it all correctly.”

  Micah had seen gay men pretending to be straight before. His best friend, the one who’d died during his time in the cartel, had been gay, and had come out not long before he’d died. And now, thinking of that friend whose n
ame he’d sworn he would never say out loud again, a moment of sorrow pressed down on him. He wished he could get to an AA meeting, but didn’t know if that would be within the rules. He hadn’t been to one in nearly two weeks, and could feel the itch in the back of his brain swelling.

  “Why are you here, Micah?”

  Rodney looked at him with an intensity that Micah didn’t know how to interpret. He couldn’t tell if Rodney was on his side, and if he wasn’t, how much Rodney might spill to Lilah.

  “I’m trying to understand my own faith,” Micah said. Seemed like an answer that Rodney might buy, plus it had a grain of truth in it.

  Rodney considered this for a minute, then he readied his hiking poles. “I’ve been there. Shall we?”

  Micah gestured with his poles for Rodney to lead, so they fell back into step. After a couple minutes, Micah asked, “is there a library in town?”

  “Why do you want to go to a library?”

  “There are things I need to look up on the internet, and since Lilah took my phone…”

  Rodney stopped and faced Micah. He adopted a grave look. “It’s not a good idea. It’s best if you leave the internet alone, and get what you need from the book. We’ll all be happier that way.”

  Rodney spun and continued up the hill, and they finished their hike mostly in silence. Same with the return route. When they reached the house, Rodney dropped his snowshoes on the porch and mumbled something about taking a shower, so Micah went inside separately. He paused in the den, stretching his aching hamstrings, when the sound of soft weeping carried into the room. He looked around, heard nothing else.

  The weeping returned, a soft and sporadic moan of anguish. Micah followed the sound, down the hallway toward Lilah’s room. He cautiously approached her open door, and froze when he could see inside.

  Lilah, on her bed, clutching a letter in her hands, streams of tears dripping down onto the pages.