by Ellis, Tara
“You’re the pastor from Wyoming!” Madeline said with enthusiasm as she shuffled amongst the pews, making her way toward him. “We’re thrilled to have another pastor here in Mercy.”
Russell accepted her outstretched hand when she finally reached him and shook it eagerly. “Guilty as charged,” he teased. “But I’m afraid my journey and intent have likely been exaggerated. I’m here only as a guest. To be honest with you, Madeline,” he added, leaning close enough for her to smell the cologne he’d put on that morning. “My faith has come under attack. During these end days I join the people of Mercy as nothing more than a weak man, seeking redemption.”
Madeline was still holding his hand, and she covered it with her other one before lifting it towards her chest like a maiden seeking the blessing of her king. “Oh, Father Rogers, I implore you to share your wisdom with this parish. We need to hear the words of someone who recognizes the trying times we’re facing and how it can alter our views of what faith means to us.”
“Ahem.” From behind them, Father White very loudly cleared his throat.
Wincing, Russell pulled his hand out from Madeline’s grasp and offered her a conspiratorial wink before turning to face the priest. “Father. I’ve had the joy of meeting your pianist. Do you have any other musicians participate in your services?” Already knowing what the answer was, Russell enjoyed the expected rise he got from the old man.
“Certainly not!” Father White spat. “Mercy is an orthodox parish, Father Rogers. While you may have allowed a band to lead your congregation onto whatever path you chose, we will have nothing of the sort here. Let us be clear on that.”
“My apologies, Father,” Russell purred while barely hiding his smile. At least he’d gotten the man to say more than one sentence. Mayor Patty had brought Russell to the apartment behind the church the night before, after the barbeque. He hadn’t even met Father White until late that morning when they’d exchanged nothing more than formal introductions. Since Russell was volunteered by Patty to fish all afternoon, it had been easy to stay under the other man’s radar.
Madeline, sensing the tension, made a quick departure. Soon, the church was full of hymnal music. Russell sincerely hoped Father White wouldn’t quiz him on any of the sung prayers, since many of them were shared between the denominations. Music wasn’t something Russell had ever gotten into, nor payed attention to.
“What seminary did you attend?”
Russell raised an eyebrow at Father White, intrigued by his guile. “I was blessed with the opportunity to go to Berkeley Divinity School at Yale,” Russell answered without any hesitation. “A beautiful campus. Although that was many years ago, I must say, and quite a lot has changed over the past decade.”
Father White grunted before moving to open the front doors. Russell followed, and watched as the elderly man painstakingly updated the church service marquee board, located near the sweeping stone steps.
“I was a postulant for nearly a year,” Russell offered while handing the priest a letter he needed. “I confess I was a bit eager in my younger years and had more confidence than was warranted.”
“A trait not uncommon among those seeking to be ordained,” Father White mumbled. It wasn’t much, but Russell still considered it progress.
He was rather enjoying his time with the old priest. The man was still sharp, in spite of his years, and had the same cunning as the Catholic minister Russell grew up with. For years, Russell attended Sunday mass with his mother and younger brother. It was during some of the more poignant sermons that he came to understand how he was different from everyone else. It was tempting to believe he’d been called into existence to serve a higher being, but Russell saw beyond that veil. The tapestry he was woven into wasn’t so simple as good and evil or right and wrong. His was a thread that, if pulled, revealed an intricate path capable of either unraveling the fabric or holding it all together.
Russell was ten when their pastor caught him in the alley behind the church, mutilating a cat. When confronted, instead of being ashamed and trying to run away, he had giggled. Apparently, that left quite an impression, because he was later subjected to extreme prayer sessions, held in his attic room, the air heavy with the scent of frankincense.
The distant notes of the organ could almost be mistaken for the tune of “Edelweiss”, if Russell closed his eyes and didn’t think too hard about it. The smell of burning candles wafted through the air and the atmosphere was heavy with a looming storm. Almost like the oppressive, muggy confines of the attic.
“Father Rogers. Are you okay?”
Russell jumped at the nearness of the priest, and for a moment, only a brief fraction of a second, his eyes dropped the mask he spent his life behind.
Father White took a step back. He fumbled with the letters still clasped between his fingers, and his discomfort was almost comical.
Before Russell had a chance to attempt and smooth things over, two horses came galloping down the street. The church was on the northwest edge of town and was the last building on the road, so it was obvious where they were heading. Russell didn’t think it was normal for the congregation to rush to mass in such a manner, so he followed after Father White to go greet them.
Two men Russell had never seen before reined their mounts in at the last moment, kicking up dust on the pastor’s white robes. Lightning jabbed at the sky behind them as one of them dismounted, his face distorted with grief. “Father, we need you to come with us to the clinic.”
“Is it the—”
“No,” the man still seated on his horse interrupted. “Not the cholera. There was an accident with the wagon.”
“It took us several hours to get everyone out of the wreckage and to the clinic,” the man standing in front of Father White explained, his voice strained. He glanced over at Russell. “You the new priest?”
Russell nodded without thinking much about it, but was answered by a sharp look from Father White.
“Good,” the man continued, turning his attention back again to Father White. “We can use you both for the last rites.”
Chapter 13
JAMES
Master Sergeant, US Marines, 1st Force Reconnaissance
Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado
The ticking of the clock seemed abnormally loud. James refused to look at it, and it took all of his self-control not to shift uncomfortably in the leather chair. He hadn’t noticed the tick-tick-tick of the old-style mechanism the last time he’d been in General Montgomery’s office, but it was probably because he’d been distracted. Or, perhaps the air units that shut off as he entered had been running during the past meeting, drowning the smaller noise out.
More than likely, it was because the general was staring silently at James. Montgomery’s attention hadn’t wavered for a good two minutes, so that James became acutely aware of everything around them. Such as a fluorescent light over the table in the room behind him that was flickering. There was also a low, resonant vibration in the granite floor that James could feel in his feet, and a piece of red yarn had come loose from a tack on the general’s giant map. It hung just inside James’s view and was moving slightly from a current of air he couldn’t feel.
He was having a hard time determining the mood of the general, which James found very disconcerting. He was normally an excellent judge of people and their demeanors. Montgomery was certainly paler since he’d last seen him four days earlier. He might have even lost a few pounds, though his starched uniform made it difficult to tell. He was perfectly still, aside from the index finger of his left hand, which was making small, quick movements on top of the desk, almost like he was scratching at the wood.
Unable to stop himself, James shifted his eyes to look more closely at the motion. Montgomery’s hand froze and he cleared his throat, leading James to believe the general hadn’t even been aware he was doing it.
“I didn’t realize that 1st Force Reconnaissance had a problem following orders.” The general’s voice was level
and free of irritation, but the allegation was clear nonetheless.
“Sir?” James was honestly surprised by the remark.
“I thought it was made clear that there were to be no other packages taken with the asset.”
James stared at General Montgomery for a moment as he processed the statement. He had an internal battle between soldier and father as he grasped that the little girl was being referred to in such a manner. “The child is the doctor’s granddaughter,” James said carefully, being sure not to allow any emotions to show. “I… used her as leverage, sir, to prevent an unnecessary conflict.”
Montgomery picked up a pen and began tapping it, his eyes narrowing. “Yes. I read the report. I’m aware of your justifications, and while I can appreciate a certain level of ingenuity in the field, I still expect you to adhere to standing orders. They are not a guideline. I need to make sure you’re clear on that before you leave on your next mission.”
“Crystal.” James noticed the general’s eyes narrowing further. “Sir.”
“Have you been apprised of the next assignment?” Montgomery slid a folder across his desk as he spoke, and then tapped it once, lightly.
James looked down at the plain manila folder with some uneasiness. “Only that we leave before dawn.” When it became clear that he was meant to take it, he begrudgingly picked it up. There was only one sheet of paper inside. That was all he needed.
Montgomery watched as James frowned down at the document. “The asset made contact some days ago, but as of yet, their location has not been confirmed. You’re being sent to their residence. Is that going to be a problem, Sergeant?”
James shifted in the chair and then leaned forward on one knee, holding the folder out towards the general. “What happens to the assets, sir?”
Montgomery leaned back with an expression that suggested he finally got the reaction he was expecting. Slapping his hands dramatically on the arms of his chair, the general pushed himself up and walked out from behind the grand desk. “Normally, that isn’t a question I would answer, but in your case I’m willing to make an exception.” Turning away from James, he began to pace in front of the world map.
James watched the older man carefully, bothered by the image of the ornately-clad commander taking measured steps across the room. The looming image of marked destruction as a backdrop was unsettling, rather than motivating. James didn’t see much hope on that map, and his feelings for the general were troubled. Normally, he wouldn’t bother to worry over how he did or didn’t feel about a commander, but since this commander was the man leading what was left of their country…it mattered.
“Sergeant, the men and woman on the Survivor’s List have been deemed the greatest minds of our nation,” Montgomery began, pausing in his march. “Doctors, leaders, teachers, and scientists in various fields. They are the key to rebuilding. With their knowledge and ingenuity, we can and will work our way back from the brink of complete destruction. They will be treated as a precious commodity.” Moving back to his desk, he stopped in front of James. “I can, however, understand your misgivings.”
James stood, noting how the general didn’t take a step back as most men would. “Not at all, sir. Tomorrow’s mission will be handled the same as any other.”
General Montgomery reached out slowly and took ahold of the folder, setting it back pointedly on the desk. “Make sure that it is. No matter who the asset is.”
Chapter 14
DANNY
Miner’s Trail, Central Montana
Lightning crackled overhead and the hair on the back of Danny’s arms rose. She had a very bad feeling that they were about to bear the full brunt of the storm they’d been eyeing for more than a day.
“What’s with the orange lightning?” Ethan asked Sam as the two of them rode side by side, behind Danny. Tom was leading the way, and had been since they’d started out on the Miner’s Trail.
“My guess is it has to do with the chemical changes in the atmosphere I was telling you about,” Sam explained, gazing up at the sky.
“Oxides?” Ethan said, sounding uncertain.
“Essentially,” Sam replied. He started getting into more detail about chemical compounds and Danny stopped listening. It was all fascinating up to a point, but she was well over her initial curiosity when it came to the upper atmosphere.
Spurring her horse on, Danny took advantage of the flatter span of trail they were currently on to move up next to Tom. She chuckled when she saw how Grace lay sprawled across Lily’s shoulders, her head nestled against Tom’s thigh, sound asleep.
“How do you do that?” Danny asked, raising an eyebrow at Tom.
He did his best to look innocent. “Do what?”
“Get a dog who can hardly sit still long enough to be petted, to fall asleep on the back of a horse?” Danny said playfully. “You must be a dog whisperer, as well as a horse and cattle whisperer.”
Tom shrugged and then rested a hand on Lily’s neck. “I think it’s as much the horse as it is me,” he said. “I don’t think this would happen if I rode Tango.”
Laughing lightly, Danny looked sideways at Tom, trying to study his features without being too obvious. The bruising and swelling had healed to the point that he wasn’t quite so scary looking, and she might even describe him as ruggedly good looking. It was his unusual green eyes that intrigued her the most. Danny knew he was intelligent, and when he turned his full attention on her, it was like he could read her mind, sometimes.
Tom turned his head then and caught her staring, so she tried to cover it up with a question. “I’ve been wondering…”
“Yeah?” Tom smiled crookedly at her while absently petting Grace.
“Between the Duke and Miller ranches, whose is bigger?”
Tom looked somewhat surprised by her question, and seemed happy to talk about his ranch. “We have over five thousand acres and close to a thousand head of cattle,” he said with some pride.
Danny tried to pretend like she knew what that meant. “So…yours is the biggest?”
Tom laughed. “Yeah, Duke’s is about half the size of our operation, although his pastures are underused, so they could take on more.”
Danny recalled the men’s parting conversation that morning, and how they were talking about keeping in touch and possibly setting up some trades. After watching the two of the men interact for two days, she felt she had a greater understanding of the camaraderie the rancher community shared.
“So then how about the blue lightning?” Ethan’s voice rose as his conversation with Sam became more animated. Danny was used to the friendly banter the two often shared, and she envied it to a certain degree.
Ethan’s question was punctuated by a blinding flash of intense bluish light, visible even though it was still the middle of the afternoon. Earth-shaking thunder followed it, and then a silence so deep that Tom stopped Lilly.
The woods the trail had taken them through was a mixture of open plains interspersed with steeper, rocky glades. As Danny tried to interpret the heaviness that seemed to accompany the silence, she was thankful that the current landscape was at least relatively flat, although heavily wooded. After the morning fog burned off, the temperatures reached a high of around eighty, but an unusual humidity made it feel like they were in a sauna. Tugging at her sticky T-shirt, Danny couldn’t shake the feeling that something malevolent was about to be released, and they were right in its path.
Twisting in his saddle, Tom looked back at Danny first, and then Sam and Ethan. They were all spooked. He looked up, and Danny followed his gaze. A bizarre display of what Sam called mammatus clouds hung overhead, huge drooping protrusions that reminded Danny of being underwater. The comparison might not be too far from accurate.
There was a perceptible shift in the temperature, a sudden plunge followed by a wind blowing from the opposite direction of the storm. As the wind increased, it began to howl around them, and then abruptly stopped, thunder rumbling in its wake.
Grace
lifted her head and whined before twisting around and leaping off of Lily’s back. Barking once, she started to run up the trail.
“I think Grace has the right idea,” Sam said nervously. “Let’s get out of here.”
None of them needed any more encouragement and they took off at a challenging pace. Danny winced as she bounced in the saddle, knowing she was going to pay for all of the hard riding they’d already done that day. She would have thought that after more than a week there would come a point where it wouldn’t hurt anymore. However, if that were the case, she apparently hadn’t achieved enough experience to call herself a cowgirl yet.
“State Route 12 shouldn’t be more than a few miles away,” Tom called back. “This trail puts out at a campground. Maybe we can find some shelter there before the storm breaks loose.”
Danny tried to remember the map Tom had showed her when they stopped earlier for lunch. No matter how much she recalled, it still didn’t make a whole lot of sense. She knew they’d crossed Highway 90 a few hours earlier, so that gave Danny a better grasp of where they were, geographically speaking. While it was a stretch of road she wasn’t necessarily familiar with, just knowing they were momentarily standing on a highway she had driven on so often brought a certain level of comfort. Of course, once they’d disappeared back into the trees she may as well have been on the moon.
Sam was trying to shout something in response, but his words were lost in the wind. It was then that the sky literally split open and a wall of water was unleashed.
Danny gasped as the cool rain hit her face with alarming force, instantly soaking her clothes. Her vision blurred, and her horse must have been blinded too, because she faltered and then slowed to a walk.