The Fifth Rider: New Damascus

by A Park

  “Shit,” Dick spat out the side of his mouth. He wiped Molly down, placing a hand on her head to keep her calm and from kicking. “I was counting on this one too.”

  Dick saw the disturbed look on Jacob's face and chuckled, wiping his arms clean. “Ain't no need for panic, Father. Happens more often than you'd think, just take the good with the bad.”

  Alton suddenly retched behind them, a hand clamped over his mouth. He mumbled, “There's something in its mouth.”

  Jacob took a step back as Dick crouched to the floor and lifted up the calf's head. It flopped grotesquely and Jacob saw its cheeks bulging and writhing. With an experienced hand, Dick squeezed its jaw and its mouth popped open, maggots spilling out onto the floor. Alton groaned, accidentally kicking over a bucket with his foot in his scramble to be as far from the calf as possible.

  Jacob was rooted to the ground, his mouth dry. Dick looked just as stunned as they were, dropping the calf's head to the floor and muttering, “Jesus...”

  Jacob crossed himself and stepped out of the barn, the maggots writhing and spilling out over the floor.

  ***

  “She isn't feeling well.”

  Jacob laughed a little, trying to see past Mrs. Henry as she blocked the doorway with her squat body. “I thought she'd like to talk to someone.”

  “She doesn't want to see anyone.” Mrs. Henry was stubborn, and Jacob realized he'd have to push her out of the way if he wanted to step inside the house. “I'm sorry, Father.”

  Confused, and a little hurt, Jacob stepped back and watched as Mrs. Henry firmly closed the door behind her and locked it. He didn't understand exactly why there was a measure of hostility...Alton had said only that Ellie had been sick that morning. Still, perhaps it wasn't seemly of him to be seen paying too much attention to one woman.

  His walk back to the chapel was burdened and ponderous.

  Once inside the small church, Jacob locked the door behind him. The Lord's house was meant to be a refuge for all looking for salvation, but tonight he didn't think he'd be able to see anyone.

  Jacob walked to the podium and to where a crucifix with a depiction of Christ hung on the wall. He fell to his knees, hissing in pain as they slammed into the wooden floor, but the throbbing pain was welcome. Unable to lift up his head, he cried into the floor, his hands clasped together and prostate before him. He thought, I am too tired, I am too weak for this work. He prayed in a manner that was more a silent shouting, don't take her away too, don't let everything here die.

  ***

  “Do you think we should bring anything else?” Alton rummaged through the basket they had filled with some dried fruit, a pint of milk, a small stack of handkerchiefs and a packet of sugar cane candy.

  Jacob reached into one of the store cupboards and brought out a pack of the factory cigarettes. “For her nerves,” he said, tucking it into the basket.

  The two men strode down the centre of town, noting that the carcasses of crows had been removed and burned as Alton had ordered. Most of the birds had gone away, though a few packs still lingered on the rooftops. The bloody well had been bricked up and all the trees chopped down. There were signs of work, but no one still liked being outside for too long. New Damascus looked barren.

  “Has Anne Henry told you anything yet?”

  Alton shrugged, wiping his forehead with a rag. “Only that she's worsening and the time's past being mysterious now.”

  Jacob felt his hands curl into nervous fists, his nails digging into his palm. “I don't like the sound of that at all.”

  When they knocked on Ellie's door, Mrs. Henry answered, a shadow cast on her face. She took the basket from them and Jacob rushed up the stairs to Ellie's bedroom. When he flung open the door he was first hit with the stale smell of old sweat and sick. She looked like her bed was ready to engulf her, pale and wan against the sheets and somehow diminished.

  “Ellie, what...” His voice died in his throat when he saw her belly, swollen and huge, like a millstone tied around her neck that dragged her body down. She turned her eyes away from him, though even shame was unable to recall colour to her face, and her hands fluttered over her mouth.

  Alton stepped into the room behind Jacob, his breath sucking back into his mouth with an angry hiss. He looked, thunderstruck from Jacob to Ellie. “Ellie, girl...what's the meaning of this?”

  Mrs. Henry forced her way into the room, standing in front of Ellie with her shoulders squared. “Don't hassle the girl, Alton. This is none of her doing.”

  Alton snorted incredulously. “And I suppose a girl gets pregnant by sitting and reading books?”

  “Look at her. You ever seen a woman who quickens with child in a day? This isn't normal.”

  Jacob knelt by Ellie's bedside, taking her hands away from her face so that she would look at him. “Do you know what's happening?”

  Mrs. Henry took the pint of milk from the basket and poured it into a glass. “Drink this, Ellie, it'll give you some strength.” She gave Alton and Jacob a look that told them to step outside. Ellie could barely lift her head to reach the glass and Mrs. Henry fussed over her as she helped her drink. After a moment, smoothing back Ellie's hair, she came out and closed the door behind her.

  She glared at them. “Wipe that superior look off your face, Alton Hutchison. What I say is true, ain't no natural child growing in that girl that her womb quickens in a day. I felt her belly, and there is a child in there, but I've not felt it move once. I also checked, and her maidenhead is still intact.”

  Jacob's eyebrows jumped up. “A virgin birth.”

  Alton's face was dark. “This doesn't feel like a miracle, Father Jacob.”

  “I've done what I can, but-”

  Mrs. Henry was cut off by a scream and the sound of breaking glass. Alarmed, the three rushed back into the bedroom to see Ellie's face contorted with pain and the sheets soaked with what looked like water and pink streaks of blood.

  “Lord help us, it's coming.” Mrs. Henry rolled up her sleeves and barked at the two men. “Heat up some water and bring some more linens.”

  Having done this at the Anson farm a few nights before, Alton and Jacob set to work, building a fire in her stove downstairs and fetching water from the pump. Jacob could hear her groans, more like mewls twisted and high with pain, and his hands were shaking so badly he had to ask Alton to chop the wood instead.

  When Jacob re-entered the room with a basin full of heated water, he nearly spilled it on the floor at the sight of Ellie. Her arms were bound to the bed posts with sheets, another wrapped around her mouth as she heaved her massive belly into the air, crying and screaming against the gag. Mrs. Henry dunked one of the washing cloths into the hot water and placed it over her belly, wiping sweat that was dripping down Ellie's face and soaking the pillow beneath.

  “Out,” Mrs. Henry commanded, just as Jacob's eyes lingered to the blood pooling around Ellie's legs. He obeyed her without hesitation, closing the door shut behind him and sinking down the wall. Alton came by with another bucket and his eyes darkened by the wails inside the room.

  It felt like hours passed and Jacob couldn't stay still. Alton brought two chairs for them to sit in, filling his pipe and smoking by the door, but Jacob's feet were restless and he paced endlessly up and down the hall.

  “You're going to wear a hole in the floor, Father.”

  Jacob grunted, barely hearing a word said to him. His mind was buzzing with a million thoughts, most too awful for him to contemplate so he pushed them further into the back of his mind, only sensing half-formed words in the inner cacophony.

  Alton stared down at the floor though his gaze was somewhere further away. “You’d be too young to know what it’s like to be a father. I’ve sat in a chair like this before…but nothing about this feels right.”

  “I’m a preacher, Alton, I can’t be a father.”

  “One more push, Ellie.”

  Jacob couldn't bear the waiting any longer and when he heard Mrs. Henry's encourage
ments through the wall he burst through the door. Alton, startled, tried to grab his arm but it was too late.

  Ellie didn't even notice him entering the room. Her face was covered in red blotches, her clothes completely soaked through with sweat and the sheets cutting into her wrists. Mrs. Henry scowled at him but could only spare him a glance, crouched by Ellie's legs and pulling something from her.

  “Good girl,” she said, “good girl, it's all over now.”

  Ellie sobbed, in relief or pain Jacob didn't know, but he fell to her side, frantically untying the sheets from her wrists. He rubbed her hands between his, wanting to tell her how brave she was, but unable to find his voice.

  “Is it a boy?” Her voice was weak, a whisper of what it normally was.

  Jacob saw Mrs. Henry standing at an angle, her body shielding the child in her arms. There was a dark look on her face, however, and Jacob rose to his feet unsteadily. Alton entered the room and let out a gasp, as if someone had punched him in the stomach.

  “It's a monster,” Alton breathed.

  Ellie let out a small, strangled noise, her hands reaching out beseechingly to hold her child. Alton pushed Mrs. Henry to the side, a dark fury overtaking him, and he ripped the bundle from her arms and held it up.

  It was a small, still form swaddled in the cloth. Jacob could see its tiny arms and the dome of its head, but it was completely covered in a dark coat of fine fur. He felt his breath catch and bile rise in his throat.

  “How dare you.” Mrs. Henry grabbed the child back from Alton, holding it to her chest. It suddenly stirred and let out a small mewl, like a cat.

  Alton's eyes widened and he grabbed his rifle from the wall. Cocking it and levelling it in one smooth motion, he aimed it straight for the child's head. Ellie screamed, and Mrs. Henry turned to shield the child. Alton's rifle barked once, sparks spitting from the muzzle and Mrs. Henry dropped to the floor in a heap without so much as a moan.

  “Don't!” Ellie screeched, trying to sit up but her legs tangling in the sheets. Jacob stood petrified, everything happening too quickly.

  “Don't, please don't!”

  Alton shoved Mrs. Henry's body aside with his foot and hefted his rifle up again. He fired once more, the swaddling cloth billowing once and spitting out red. Ellie howled beside Jacob, frenzied. He felt her nails clawing at his face as she pushed him aside and grappled for something in the drawer beside her bed.

  Alton took a step back from the mess, a look of horror and relief mingled on his face. He put a hand to his mouth, looking sick, as if he had snapped out of a trance. He looked to Jacob, his eyes pleading. “It was alive...that was no child. That was no child. That was a-”

  Ellie raised the pistol Jacob had given her, unsteady fingers pulling the hammer back.

  “-demon.” Bang! Alton's shoulders jerked, his head snapping back before he toppled backwards leaving a red mess on the wall.

  Jacob yelled, his hands flying up to shield his face, stumbling into the bedside drawer. Ellie shook, the pistol twitching in the air. She finally let her arms drop, all the air rushing out of her as if her lungs had been pierced. Jacob felt her hand searching for his and her grip was like iron.

  “I told you to leave, Ellie,” he whispered, “I told you to get out of this place.”

  Ellie was still staring at the spot on the wall, smeared and splattered with red. Her face, normally so beautiful and full, now looked skeletal. Her eyes seemed too big and like they had seen too much. She motioned for Jacob to bring her the basket and took the pack of factory tobacco he had brought her. Her hands trembled too much for her to strike the match so Jacob lit the cigarette for her.

  He perched beside her on the bed and she wrapped his arm around her shoulders. She seemed so slight, as if she was fading like a shadow from approaching night. Jacob pressed his face into her hair, and though tangled and matted it still felt soft. “Why didn't you leave? Why did you let this town take you too?”

  Ellie gave him a tremulous smile, the cigarette dropping to the floor. “It was my trial.”

  She reached for the pistol again and placed it against her temple. Before Jacob could stop her he felt an explosion, as if someone had struck him with a pole against his ears and they rang so horribly he felt his vision cloud. Sobbing, his arms unable to unclench around her, the thought crossed his mind that he knew exactly what she was going to do. Knew it, but didn't have the heart to deny her.

  Jacob petted her hair, curling up beside her on the bed. He wasn't sure how long he lay there, slipping in and out of a sweet dream which was only a moment but seemed to sustain him for hours. When sunlight began to drift back in through the window, he eased himself off the bed, rubbing his eyes and finding dried blood on his face. He picked up Ellie and carried her in his arms out of the house.

  Her hands were cold, her fingers stiff, but the strands of golden hair trapped between his fingers was soft and he tucked it into his inner shirt pocket. He carried her through the main road of New Damascus, crows watching him like a stern choir, and inside the church he laid her gently down on the floor behind his podium. He made sure her eyes were closed and folded her hands above her chest. He found he could not perform her last rites, whether it made her death too final or it felt like sacrilege on his tongue, he was silent.

  Jacob looked at the crucifix on the church wall and found he was only angry. He turned his gaze away and instead tucked his father's old pistol into his pocket, grabbed his hand sickle and strode out of the church.

  Outside the dry ocean of the American desert sprawled out before him and he walked into it with no destination but salvation in mind.

  ***

  Salvation, of course, is dependent upon a window of time. There must be something, no matter how tiny of a spark left, to be saved and salvation must ride in before that spark blows out. In the borderless desert, sand and rocks that stretched out for miles beyond the horizon, time was lost.

  Jacob walked, and then he stumbled through the dead sand sea, clutching his bible and praying. He knew where his journey had to end. He didn't know the path there, except that it would only present itself once he had shed all strength and pride. God would not meet him in the desert until he was in the humblest form man could be in. Starving, dying, weak and in true need. So though his throat had swollen dry and closed up, though grit stung his eyes so that he constantly wept, though the sun beat mercilessly on his shoulders, he walked.

  When Jacob tripped and fell it was almost a relief. The thirst had laid his mark on him but left him in peace for most of his walk, but it returned now with a vengeance. Thirsty, he was so thirsty, and it burned inside his skull, a forest fire ravaging his mind. The ground rushed up to meet him with a hard embrace and he felt the last of his breath knocked out of him.

  Surely, I will die like this. Jacob felt the sand, coarse and scratchy against his face, but he lay there in what he felt was the most comfortable bed, because he was sure things had to end now.

  God...Father...please...my town, my home...New Damascus...Ellie...

  Jacob closed his eyes, unable to recall the moment his spinning thoughts faded and he fell asleep.

  He was not sure how long he had laid there, for time had abandoned the desert, and he opened his eyes rarely. He prayed into the sand, he prayed deep inside his own mind without a voice, and only occasionally did he register the sun pressing through his eyelids with an orange glare, or the chill winds of the night whipping over him.

  Was it the next day? Was it seven days? Jacob lay there and then heard the sky split apart in the loudest thunder clap he had ever heard. His eyes struggled open, and for a long moment his vision was blurry and refused to focus.

  Blinking, Jacob finally saw and realized he was face to face with a rattlesnake. It's tail raised menacingly in the air, shivering its deathly, skeletal call. Part of him truly woke, panic setting in, but he was too weak to move. The rattlesnake described an 'S' in the sand, moving closer towards him, and then it circled around and fou
nd its own tail. With a sudden strike, it lunged forward and grabbed its tail in its mouth.

  Thunder split across the sky again, the air dry with electricity, though Jacob could see no rain clouds. He watched as the snake began to swallow, its tail disappearing down its cavernous throat and it ate itself alive.

  Jacob finally summoned whatever strength he had left and lifted himself off the ground. He knew whatever he had prayed for was coming now. His eyes burning, he looked up to the sky and saw a large black cloud just at the horizon. Lightning flashed across the sky again in the dry thunderstorm, and to his amazement he saw something fall from the black cloud.

  There was a shriek that cut across the air, cut across sound and Jacob almost tumbled backwards again. Struggling to get to his feet, he watched as the black meteors with their ash tails plummeted to the desert ground, a wave of sand kicking up on impact. There was another shriek this time and he realized the black smoke furling around the desert was writhing and shifting and it was hurtling straight towards him.