He knows that, like Timothy, he must endure hardness as a good soldier of Christ Jesus and be strong in Jesus’ grace, for if you suffer for righteousness, you will be blessed. But what he was put through was totally unfair. It hurt more than anything had ever hurt before. Then that humiliating scene up at the camp in front of everybody. They were so stupid, so uncaring, so wrong about everything. After that, the wounds on his head began to fester and he was sick for a while, and even now there is a nasty itch there that reminds him of his brother’s cruelty. Baptism by the knife: He seems to remember hearing Nat say that and then laugh. Punishment was visited upon the entire family and many of their friends after that, they were all expelled from the camp and sent out into the fields, and for a time he was blamed. His father was especially upset about the girls’ underpants, and he suffered anger and ridicule. He felt like Daniel in the lions’ den. What if Daniel had got thrown to the lions in girls’ underpants? What then? Would they have laughed and scorned?
Over time, however, they began to see his side of it. How he was victimized. Lured to the field. Ambushed. Tortured. Made to wear the underpants. Last night, Jewell Cox blamed it all on Clara Collins’ pride, and Roy Coates said the girl was just asking for it. Young Abner should not have let her talk him into such wickedness, old man Coates said, but you could see how you could be tempted to whip the brat. He felt like whipping her himself. And his father, after pouring out his wrath on Nat and Paulie, acknowledged that the expulsion had strengthened them. There were more followers now, more true believers, more baptisms by fire. Many of these people had given up everything to make the journey here; they were faithful Brunists and did not deserve this treatment. His father above all. “He’s the West Condon bishop and he ain’t done nothing!” Ezra Gray declared last night, full of fury, rattling his wheelchair, and Jewell said, “Nat and Paulie is only boys. They must of fell under the evil influence a thet ex-con Palmers, or whoever he was.” “They went bad a long time before that,” his father said grumpily, his face scowling up like it used to do before meting out the family discipline. This was out under the tent, after the failed raid on their encampment, after they’d set everything up again and were feeling good and congratulating him on his shrewdness. It was when he proposed tonight’s counterattack on the Wilderness Camp. His father was hesitant, but Roy and Jewell backed him, and pretty soon they had volunteers. More than they needed. There’s a big ceremony out on the Mount of Redemption tomorrow, and they’ve not been invited. Has to do with those temple-building plans that have so outraged his father. The thoughts of those in the camp will be on that; good time to catch them unawares.
The plan is to cut off the phones and electricity. It might have been easier to do at the old mine, where the lines come from, but there have been workers over there on the mine hill all day—a lot of digging going on—and old man Suggs probably has people guarding the machinery, which is lit up. Hard to get up there unseen. So they accepted Young Abner’s idea of sneaking into the dark side of the camp. The barbed-wire fence has been extended past where Nat entered, but there’s a gap further down through which they’ve come, crawling through the thick growth of honeysuckle and high weeds. Young Abner has spent a lot of time mapping the camp out, knows its soft points. He’d like to do something awful to the girl, whom he thinks of as having betrayed him—whip her where it hurts—but the trailer parking lot is too exposed. At least with the lights on. The Coates boys, Royboy and Aaron, pushing at each other, have got into some kind of stupid argument and can’t seem to keep their mouths shut in spite of everybody shushing them. Their father Roy gets fed up and gives Aaron such a fierce clout across the ears that he yelps out, and Young Abner has to blow his owl whistle to cover it up. Aaron mutters something and gets another blow from his father on the back of his head that sends him sprawling in the wet grass and this time he shuts up. They creep toward the creek. They can make out one or two of the post lamps through the trees. Maybe we should just knock out the bulbs, Royboy whispers, but Isaiah Blaurock shakes his head, puts his finger to his lips, and slips away into the trees, heading toward the center of the camp. Nobody moves. Dead silence. Even the Coates boys are holding their breath. Nothing happens for what seems like hours. A couple of their group have quietly backed out the way they came.
Suddenly there’s a loud pop and fizz like a firecracker going off. Then darkness. It had seemed like darkness before, but they’d actually been able to make out something of the ground at their feet, the trees beyond, and he realizes the pale light they’d had before was from the camp lamps reflected in the drizzle. They’re gone now and it’s pitch black. “I cain’t see nuthin,” Royboy Coates complains and a shot rings out. “Dad, I’m hit! Oh shit!” It’s Royboy’s brother Aaron. “Oh! Oh! Help!” He’s crying.
They all open fire. Young Abner is shooting, too, but he doesn’t know what at. Just into the night, where the streetlamps used to be. He’s blowing the whistle, as if anyone shooting will think he’s only an owl. Somebody passes him silently on the way out. Isaiah. Tugs on his sleeve. Roy Coates stumbles by, his wounded son over his shoulder like a sack of meal. “C’mon! Let’s get goin’!” he grunts. Young Abner’s already on his way, the rest following his lead as more shots crackle in the night.
No one has slept all night. Except Willie Hall, who seemed not to know what happened. When told of the overnight attack on the camp, he cried out, “Lordy lord! The enemy hath smoten our life clean down to the ground! He’s made us t’dwell in the dark like as those as has been long dead!” For some reason this recital seemed to cheer everyone up, and though somewhat shaken still by the explosive rattle and complete loss of power (the phone lines are out, too, as they’d discovered upon trying to reach the sheriff), they began to get on with the dawning day. Which is possibly the most important date in Brunist history. Or maybe not. Darren is beginning to see weak points in his calculations. Moments when he generalized or extrapolated or slid over difficulties. He was only trying to help. People expect too much. He may have made an error. He is looking for alternative interpretations of what he has collected so far, just in case.
It was what he was doing when the attack happened. Billy Don was on guard duty, so Darren could turn the lights on in the cabin, work at his table. He was listening again to the recordings of the Voice in the Ditch, and just as he leaned in close to the speakers, intent on hearing any least whisper, a sudden explosion dumped him to the floor and the lights went out. He couldn’t see a thing. His heart was pounding. Was it after midnight? Maybe it was already happening! It felt like something in a dream and for a moment he thought that he was dreaming and he tried to wake up. He was startled by a loud knock on the window, like somebody hitting the closed wooden shutter with a hammer. Were they trying to break in? He heard shouts. He recognized some of the voices, crawled over to where the door should have been, and when he found it, opened it a crack and peeked out. Total darkness, but he could see movement. People running around in their pajamas and underwear—some of the men had rifles, which they fired into the woods, toward the creek. A mad hooting of owls somewhere. Flickering light in the cabin next door: candles. He slipped over there, ducking low, found Mrs. Edwards trying to soothe a distraught Colin dressed in nothing but his limp skivvies, howling something about black fire. Darren talked to Colin to calm him down and doing that calmed him down, too. He borrowed a candle from the grateful Mrs. Edwards and returned to his cabin, staying low. Black fire: Colin knew! Billy Don returned, wide-eyed, breathing heavily. “We hit one of them,” he said. “But they got away.” They stayed up the rest of the night talking about it. They sometimes dozed only to wake again at the slightest sound. He felt, in a sense, his prophecy had already come true. Except that it was not an act of God. Just hecklers. Vandals. More like a prelude. A fanfare. There had to be more to come.
When dawn leaked through the morning gloom, Darren discovered that the awning shutter had been struck by a bullet. The loud bang he had heard. Closing the shu
tter last night may have saved his life. The telephone lines had been cut and the electrical system shorted out. Wayne said the problem may go all the way back to the supply. He and his crew had already begun to work, but a lot of damage had been done, and he let people know it was going to take them a full day’s work, which meant, with today’s ceremonies over at the Mount, power wouldn’t be back on until at least tomorrow. It was a setback, but they had lived without electricity until two months ago, they could live another day without it now. Ludie Belle announced that the Sunday dinner menu would be changed to include as many of the refrigerated perishables as possible. Billy Don said he knew of a pay phone in Tucker City where he could try to call the sheriff’s office, and people chipped in some coins for him to use. The sheriff turned up soon after with some of his officers and they examined the sabotage and talked with Welford and Wayne about how it might have been done. A lot of shots had been fired and they found evidence of that. Darren showed them the window shutter. The sheriff sent someone to ask at the hospital if anyone had been treated for a bullet wound. One. A young man named Aaron Coates. A hunting accident. That was all Sheriff Puller needed. He and his troops swooped down on the Baxter encampment, and according to the reports now coming back to the camp, arrested several persons, including Abner himself. Also, in West Condon: Roy Coates and his two sons. They are being charged with trespassing, destruction of private property, disturbing the peace, and attempted murder.
In spite of the intrusion, the Brunists feel that God is watching over them, and they decide to go ahead with their plans to hold the Sunday morning church services over on the Mount of Redemption, followed immediately by the cornerstone laying. The sheriff has promised police protection and Bernice has agreed to stay with Elaine at the hospital to allow Clara to attend. Afterwards, they will return to the camp to continue to work together on the repairs. It’s the Sabbath, but this is God’s work, and everyone is eager to get on with it.
Mr. Suggs’ crews have already dug a trench outline of the cross-shaped temple site on the hillside, marking the area to be excavated for the foundations, filling it with chalk, and it is larger than anyone has expected. It stirs excitement and people walk all around it as if for luck. Darren does, too. He notices the people watching him. He stands in the middle of the cross and looks around, trying to imagine the tabernacle church in place. Others do the same. They have also dug a special hole for the Ely Collins tombstone, which will serve as the church cornerstone, and an empty grave in front of it where his remains will be laid to rest. The tombstone will be brought later by Mr. Suggs, who will attend the morning service.
They feel somewhat exposed this morning on the Mount and are eager to get back inside the relative safety of the camp again, so they begin the church service as scheduled, even though Mr. Suggs has not yet arrived. Will Henry has joined them, and he and Duke and Patti Jo lead everyone in singing “I Shall Not Be Moved” and “Work for the Night Is Coming.” They ask Ben to join them for his own Brunist hymn, “The Circle and the Cross,” and he does so, though it’s clear the old man’s thoughts are elsewhere. There are over seventy people at the service, including Brunists from West Condon and Randolph Junction and other towns around, but they are not using any amplification, and even when they all stand and sing together, it’s hard to hear anyone but oneself out here on the open hillside. “March on, march on, ye Brunists!” they sing, trying their best to lift spirits. “Forever shall we live! The Cross within the Circle will us God’s glory give!” They give thanks to Jesus for the safe return of Ben and Clara and they pray for the rapid recovery of Elaine and for the protection of their Wilderness Camp, which has become a holy place for them all, sanctified by their own honest labor. Clara and Ben will conduct the cornerstone ceremonies, though Ben says the new song he promised for the occasion, “The Tabernacle of Light,” is not ready. Darren has been asked to speak about the day’s special meaning as a part of the dedication, and he listens carefully to everything sung and said, looking for some way to shape his remarks and prepare them all for another seven-week wait for…for whatever. The sign. He knows they are all desperate for justifying news. It will not be easy. Prophecy is not about what is wanted but what will be. A thought for his mental note pad—the sort of thought that must have gone through Jesus’ head in his own time. Of course, Jesus was the Son of God, but so is everyone else, and Jesus, too, was known to have suffered doubts. Darren feels, as he has often felt, at one with Him. And he has been praying to Him now, asking for His help…
The carpenter and beekeeper, Cecil Appleby, reads from Paul’s letter to the Ephesians: “Now therefore ye are no more strangers and foreigners, but fellow citizens with the saints, and of the household of God; and are built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Jesus Christ himself being the chief cornerstone; in whom all the building fitly framed together groweth unto a holy temple in the Lord, in whom ye also are builded together for a habitation of God through the Spirit.” He stares at his hands for a while, and then he commences to speak to God in his quiet prayerful way, which is his way of preaching a sermon. “Dear God. Hear us, Your humble servants. Our hearts are full today of hope. And fear. Of joy. And sorrow. Of certainty. And doubt. We thank You for the one, ask forgiveness for the other. We are only who we are. Sinners seeking Your eternal company. We are weak and ask for strength. We are slow of mind and ask for the grace of understanding. We are lonely and afraid and ask for Your protective love. We believe in You and in Your son and in the Holy Spirit, and in the resurrection of the body and life everlasting, as promised us by the Holy Scriptures and by Your son, Jesus Christ. In this, we have a simple and abiding faith. We believe that our own Prophet was granted by the Holy Spirit a vision of the last times, which we believe are soon, and we are preparing for them as best we are able. It is what has drawn us here to pitch our tent in the wilderness. When King David ordered the building of a temple for his son, Solomon, he ordered that it be exceedingly magnificent. We are not so proud. Our little Coming of the Light Tabernacle Church will be an expression only of our humble love for You. We are grateful for having our Evangelical Leader here with us on this moving occasion. We miss her so when she is gone, Lord. Her faith and nobility anchor us. Please keep her well and always near us and give her strength and heart through this difficult time. We grieve for her child, o Lord, who has suffered so greatly, and who is now so in need of Your saving grace, Your close loving attention. Please, have mercy on her. Take whom You wish, but we beg You to spare the child. Take me, o Lord, but spare the child. We also ask mercy and forgiveness for the young man wounded last night. He was misled. No one should set brother against brother. Guide him to the truth, o Lord, and all those about him, and forgive them, as You guided and forgave the brothers of Joseph. They have rendered our little settlement powerless and without communication to the outside world; but You are our power, o Lord, and we need none other. It is to You we…”
Cecil Appleby pauses, raises his head. Has he heard something? He has. A voice at the bottom of the hill. It is Bernice Filbert, crying out. She is running up the hill, her long skirt pulled up to her knees, her car door flung open behind her. Clara blanches, staggers, takes an unsteady step toward Bernice. Ben rushes to Clara’s side.
Bernice seems to hear the unspoken question, asked silently and in fear by all: “No, no!” she shouts, clambering up the hill. “It ain’t Elaine! It’s Mr. Suggs! He’s had a powerful stroke! They think he’ll die!”
So there it is. The terrible but justifying sign. All turn in awe and expectation toward Darren, where he stands, somehow apart, not far from the open grave. He remembers that cold wind he seemed to feel when he stepped across those half-sunken footstones in the old cemetery; he feels it again. He nods and knows he has nothing more to do or say. His nod suffices.
III.5
Monday 8 June – Wednesday 17 June
Money. What is it? He doesn’t know. He defines himself by it, but it’s still a mystery. Like the
Holy Spirit. It exists and doesn’t exist. You have to take it on faith. If it were more visible, more logical, it might not work. But it’s completely irrational. We use numbers to mask that, make it seem to add up. Calculations as litanies, incantations. Credit as the dispensation of grace. A delusion that works. Stacy’s definition of religion. Not his, but he can live with it. That people see money as the very opposite of the Holy Spirit, as something diabolical, also makes sense. Money as Mammon. Trying to do good with it is mostly a losing proposition. What’s happening here in the bank. Big mistake. Or, rather, “good” in finance means something else. The Golden Rule doesn’t operate here. Misguided generosity is a kind of wickedness. Loose morals. Failure to foreclose is an infidelity. But if “good” is not the same thing as the Golden Rule, it’s not the opposite either. The system requires exchange to work, and exchange involves give-and-take. Some kind of honor code. I’ll believe if you believe, I’ll spend if you’ll spend. It’s how we keep ticking along, using up the world. Misers are sinners who constipate the system. To win it all is to lose it all. Sweeping the Monopoly board is like the end of the world; to continue, you have to redistribute and start over. Another Big Bang, so to speak. Expand and contract, expand and contract, the eternal cycle of the universe. Same as the business cycle. You can’t legislate it—there’s nothing there to legislate—but you can profit off the swings. If you’re a believer. Like Paul said, you have to believe the unbelievable. Become a fool to become wise. A fool for Christ is not unlike a fool for money. That is to say a successful banker. Or a fool for love. Also a mystery. As Stacy wistfully said, laughing at his Monopoly board apocalypse. But also crying a little. Her longing for him is so intense it sometimes frightens him. Talk of leaving has ended. She now has no autumn plans. She has told Mrs. Battles she’ll be staying. You must have noticed, she said, ducking her head and leaning into his chest, I’ve completely surrendered. As has Ted. Long since. Was only waiting for her to catch up. Never let himself be a fool before. Wiser now.
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