Sons of Dust

by P. Dalton Updyke

  “Too many stairs inside,” Vinny answered before she could get the question fully out. “I don’t want to keep picking up the wheelchair. Seventeen stairs to the altar and who knows how many to the Record Room.”

  Besides, he thought, but didn’t say, the pain would be too much for Gina. Every lift of the wheelchair would jar her, damage her more and even though she wasn’t complaining, Vinny knew she was hurting. Bad. She leaned against him, her face buried in his chest. She slid her arms around his neck and whispered, “Thanks.” Her weight was welcome in his arms. He shifted, slightly, so that he was bearing the bulk of her with his legs rather than his back. He followed Marcus into the church.

  At first, he couldn’t make out much of anything. It was too damn dark, but as his eyes adjusted to the blackness, he could see the marble pillars to the left and right of them, forming the alley to the altar. He could see the curved top of the wooden pews, the shadowy outline of the life-sized painted Saints in alcoves around the church. Plaster guardians.

  “The lights are on the left,” he told Marcus. There was a clicking noise as Marcus flicked the switch, but nothing happened. “Shit,” Vinny muttered.

  “Power must have gone out.” Marcus’s voice floated to them in the dark.

  Lightning flashed. The long stained glass windows came to life for an instant, purples and reds, greens and blues, and then the light faded and Vinny blinked, trying to adjust to the darkness again. “I don’t like this,” he muttered.

  Marcus had stopped at the end of the aisle. He stood motionless, his arms at his sides. Kate took another step further into the church. She was level with Marcus now. Vinny couldn’t tell what, if anything, passed between them, but as if on cue, they both took another step.

  “Alex?” Kate called. Her voice was small, but it echoed in the empty church. “Alex?” she said again, louder this time. “Where are you?”

  No one answered.

  “Maybe he’s in the rectory,” Gina said thinly.

  “Uh uh,” Marcus said. “I don’t think so.”

  Vinny didn’t think so, either. He took another step, mindful of jostling Gina.

  “Do you smell it?” Gina asked,

  And all of a sudden, Vinny did. It was like Gina’s words triggered the scent. He inhaled and almost gagged.

  “What is that?” Kate’s voice echoed back.

  “Blood,” Vinny answered. He tried to keep the shake out of his voice and thought he succeeded. Gina stirred in his arms; she was trying to sit up higher. Her grip on his neck tightened for a second, then loosened.

  Marcus was still standing in the aisle. “Come on,” Vinny said to no one in particular, to all of them. “We have to find Alex.”

  He’s probably sitting in front of the TV, eating a turkey pot pie. Vinny’s own words clamored in his head, making his face grow tight with shame. Had the others known that his words were all bluff and bluster? Bullshit? He had the same sick feeling in his gut Gina did, the same churning in his stomach Marcus felt. He knew the fear he held for Alex was mirrored in Kate’s eyes. But he tried to tell himself –and the others—that the fear was unwarranted. He wanted to believe the simple truth he’d always known: nothing bad could happen to Alex. Ever.

  Except it had.

  As he stood in the silent blackness of St. Stand’s, panic jumped down his throat, lodged in his chest. If something had happened to Alex, it could happen to any one of them. He was a priest, a man of God. He was loved and respected. He was Alex. He could fling himself into the oily harbor and climb back out looking freshly starched and smelling of Ivory Soap.

  And now…

  There was a tremendous boom, a firework explosion of lightening, lighting the windows in a white glare. The flash lasted less than an instant. It was almost enough.

  “Marcus,” Vinny said softly, so softly he wasn’t sure Marcus heard him. But Marcus turned and even though Vinny couldn’t make out Marcus’s face in the dark, he knew his old friend was probing the inky darkness, looking for Vinny. Vinny took another step forward, Gina twisting slightly in his arms. “The altar Marc. It looks different.”

  But Marcus was already turning around and Kate, beside him, began to walk, fast at first, and then they were running and Vinny was running with them, bouncing Gina as he ran but she didn’t cry out and so he moved faster, unable to stop his legs from moving from a trot to a jog to a sprint. They ran up the long aisle and it wasn’t until they reached the marble steps that Vinny saw.

  At first, he thought it was a trick of light. The darkness, the rain, the lightening, flashing every few seconds. The white light flared, flashed, and Vinny saw that his first impression had been both right and wrong.

  Jesus, on his cross, high above the altar, was moving.

  Except it wasn’t Jesus.

  Kate screamed and screamed and screamed, and in his arms, Gina twisted, as if trying to get away. Marcus was already climbing the altar stairs, taking them two at a time, and Vinny wanted to follow, but he couldn’t hold Gina any longer. His arms felt heavy, dead. He whispered into her hair, “Geenie, I’m going to put you down, right here, on the altar, with Katie. And then I’m going to go up there to help Marcus. Okay?”

  Gina was sobbing, but she nodded. As he put her down, he realized that her sobs were words and he tried to understand what she was saying, but the pain in her was too great. He thought he heard, “buck up, buck up, buck up.”

  Marcus had reached the altar table and Vinny was right behind him. His heart was trip-hammering in his chest and he found himself praying, Please don’t be Alex. Please don’t let it be Alex. Please…

  But it was.

  Alex, naked except for a ripped cloth around his waist, was on the cross. As Vinny stared in horror, Alex moved. Not dead, Vinny thought, his mind a chaos of panic and terror. Holy Mother of God, he’s not dead. Alex’s head rolled. His eyes opened and then lightening flashed and Vinny saw the blood. It was bubbling out of Alex’s mouth, pouring out of the holes in his hands and feet. His side had been cut open and even in the dark, Vinny could see the gray-white glisten of bone.

  Alex moaned and the sound galvanized Vinny. “Come on,” he said to Marcus. “We have to get him down.”

  “Vinny,” Marcus breathed, “Do you see…”

  Vinny was already moving, pulling one of the altar chairs forward to stand on it. Marcus didn’t move. “Come on!” Vinny yelled. “He’s your friend, damn it! Help me!”

  Marcus pulled the other chair forward, climbed up next to Vinny so that their hands touched when they reached for the crucifix. Marcus was shaking, his hands trembling so badly he couldn’t hold onto the cross. “Marcus! Grab with both hands! When I say three, lift up and out, okay?”

  Marcus nodded. Vinny seized the cross, trying not to look at Alex’s arms or the blood that had seeped into the wood. The crucifix was slippery with his friend’s blood; Vinny lost his grip and uttered an oath. Wrapping both hands around the wood, Vinny said, “One, two, three!”

  Muscles straining, they lifted the crucifix up and away from the wall. “Set it down,” Vinny said through clenched teeth. It was heavier, much heavier than he would have thought and the words dead weight clanged in his mind. Dead weight. Dead weight. “Gently,” Vinny told Marcus. “Careful.”

  Kate had climbed the altar and as they lowered the cross, she grasped the wood and helped ease it to the floor. “Lay it down,” Vinny said, but they didn’t need his instruction. Kate and Marcus were shifting the weight, sliding it onto the green carpeting of St. Stand’s altar.

  Down, flat on the floor, Alex moaned again. Vinny jumped off the chair and knelt beside him, touching Alex gently, feeling the broken body beneath him. Alex made a sound that was a cry, a plea, or maybe both, and Vinny looked up at the others. “We have to get him off,” he said hoarsely. “We have to get the nails out.”

  Leaning over, Vinny uncurled Alex’s hands, away from the palm, so he could see the spikes driven into his friend’s hands. Except they weren’t s
pikes. It wasn’t a nail Vinny grasped with his thumb and index finger. It wasn’t a spike he pulled free from flesh and wood.

  It was a bone.

  Bone sharpened to a fine point. Teeth, Vinny thought, vomit rising to his throat. Teeth had gnawed the bones to this razor sharp edge. More than one bone had been driven into Alex. In each hand, there were three; in his feet, there were four. Flesh hung like scraps, dangling from the broken shards of bone. And then Vinny saw something else, something that made the vomit in his throat finally finish its journey. He leaned over and heaved. He wiped his mouth with a shaking hand and looked back at the body to see if he was right.

  There were rings on two of the spikes impaling Alex.

  One of the rings was a wedding band. A man’s wedding band, thick gold and as Marcus pulled the piece of bone, finger, Vinny thought numbly, it’s a finger out of Alex’s hand, the ring rolled off the end, and Vinny picked it up. He knew without looking at the inscription who it belonged to.

  Mr. Mortini.

  The man they’d hit with the stolen car.

  Lightning flashed and Vinny stared at the second ring and then he covered that bone with his own hand, hoping that in the brief flare, Marcus had not seen. Praying that he could get the bone spike out and the ring in his pocket before Marcus turned his head, Vinny grabbed the skewer holding Alex prisoner and pulled. His stomach flipped and he had to grit his teeth from screaming as the bone twisted in his hands, tugging free from Alex’s flesh. Vinny’s hand slipped, the ring gleamed in the dark, and Vinny covered it again.

  It was Bo’s ring.

  Her grandmother’s silver engagement ring, the silver an ornate design of roses and leaves, the stone a blue sapphire that looked almost black in certain light. The bone slid out, then stopped and stuck. Jagged edges, his mind moaned, Bo’s bones have jagged edges now and that’s what’s catching, that’s what’s—

  Vinny pulled and the bone came free. The ring, Bo’s ring, his mind shrieked, tumbled into his palm and Vinny put it into his coat pocket.

  Marcus was freeing Alex’s feet. Vinny moved, still on his knees to help, but then Alex moved, grabbed at Vinny’s shoulder. Vinny hunched lower, so he was right over Alex’s face. “Hold on, Alex.” Until that moment, Vinny hadn’t realized he was crying. “You’re going to be okay, buddy, you’re gonna be just fine. Hold on.”

  “No.” The word was a bubble of blood. Vinny could make out Alex’s face now; the expression of agony. “Please. Vinny.”

  Vinny had to strain to hear. Marcus had finished with Alex’s feet. Marcus nodded at Vinny then lifted Alex’s legs. Vinny lifted his friend’s torso and then Kate was there, helping, and together, they took Alex off the cross and laid him on the floor. Alex didn’t move his arms, still out to the sides. He didn’t uncross his feet. He didn’t move his head.

  “Alex,” Vinny said. “You’re going to be okay. I’m going to call the ambulance.”

  “No.”

  Vinny was startled by the strength of the word. “Listen, Alex, we have to get you to--”

  “No,” Alex said again, and then he turned his head and coughed. More blood bubbled.

  “Vinny?” Gina called from the altar steps.

  Without a word, Kate got up and Vinny heard her make her way to the stairs. Kate was stumbling more than walking and he strained for the sound of her voice as she told Gina it was Alex up here, Alex on the cross in St. Stand’s. But if Kate spoke to Gina, Vinny didn’t hear. The church was silent, except for the sound of Alex’s breathing, a ragged sound that tore at Vinny’s heart.

  “Vinny,” Marcus said, coming to kneel by Vinny’s side. “We have to get him out of here.”

  Alex reached up then and grabbed hold of Vinny’s shirt. His hand was gloved in blood and gore. Vinny covered it with his own.

  “…candle,” Alex gasped.

  Marcus scrambled to his feet and disappeared into the dark fabric of night behind them.

  “You want a light buddy? I have a lighter.”

  Alex didn’t move or answer and a second later, a match flared and the smell of wax floated to Vinny. Marcus came back, the candle cradled in his hands. The light was scant, a flickering of flame that still managed to light more than Vinny ever wanted to see. Alex was clothed in blood now, bathed in glistening red. “Kate!” Vinny called. “Kate! Go to the rectory and call an ambulance. Call--”

  “Call what?” another voice said, and the skin on Vinny’s back crawled. “Were you going to say help, Vincenzio? Is that what you were about to say? Kate, go call for help?”

  Laughter echoed off the walls, bounced back at them. The candle flickered as Marcus lifted it higher and Vinny had to fight back an urge to say, “No, don’t! I don’t want to see!” But it was too late. The candle was high in the air and an orb of light lit a portion of the stone church.

  The shadow was on the wall.

  Kate screamed, a piercing sound that ripped at Vinny’s heart. “Don’t,” he wanted to tell her, “Don’t yell, Kate!” but nothing came from his throat. Marcus was on his feet, shouting at the thing they still couldn’t see, but feel in the dark beyond them.

  “You son of a bitch! You fucking bastard!” Rage made the words a bellow and Vinny would have stood then, would have stood beside Marcus to scream his rage and begin the battle, but Alex still held onto his shirt. Alex pulled and Vinny tore his eyes away from Marcus and the shadow and leaned over Alex once more.

  “…forgive?” Alex whispered

  “Alex,” Vinny said, “You don’t need my forgiveness now. You always had it.”

  “What was that?” Lucien’s voice filled the space. “Is that Father Alex I hear asking for forgiveness?”

  Vinny watched the shadow on the wall, saw the thing that was Lucien throw its head back and laugh. Kate covered her ears, but Gina went on staring at the wall. She hadn’t moved; sitting as still as the painted statues around them.

  “That’s wonderful!” There was a sharp crack as Lucien clapped his hands together. “That is perfect! Looking for redemption, Father? Forgiveness of sins? I’ve heard it is never too late.” The shadow moved, elongated as Lucien stepped forward. Vinny still couldn’t see him in the dark, a blessing, he thought. “I’ll let you in on a little secret. That’s just a rumor. A myth. Just as Alex always suspected the Bible was simply a book of fairy tales and stories, the notion that prayer at the end of life will save it for all eternity is false. No amount of praying or forgiveness will save Alex’s soul now.”

  Laughter again, a boom of noise. Thunder cracked over the roar of laughter. Lightning flashed.

  “She’s here!” Gina cried out.

  Vinny didn’t know who Gina meant, he couldn’t see anything, but as the brief flash faded, Vinny saw her.

  The skinny nun from sixth grade. She was standing next to the kneeler, in front of the statue of St. Joseph . The old nun lifted her arms, her habit swayed and Lucien’s laughter broke off. “It is time,” she said.

  The windows flashed as lightning streaked the sky and the nun was cast in shades of blue and purple, color that rippled and swayed and Vinny wondered if she was real or an illusion. He couldn’t see her face; it was hidden in the wimple’s folds. In her left hand was an open Bible and she lifted that arm higher. “It is the time of violence and fury.” The nun’s words rang through the church. “Therefore my sons, be zealous for the law and give our lives to the covenant of your ancestors.”

  Beside him, Vinny heard Alex, his voice a thin thread. “..do not fear…” What? Vinny thought, What? “…threats of a sinner…reward is dung and worms…tomorrow he cannot be found…’”

  On the stairs below them, the nun picked up the verse. “Because he is returned to the dust of the earth and his planning has come to nothing…”

  Lucien moved so suddenly Vinny jumped. The shadow flew across the room, further from the altar, blocking the door. “Alex!” Lucien said, as though he hadn’t seen the nun or heard the Bible’s words, “Tell your friends what you ask f
orgiveness for! Tell them about Mr. Mortini. Tell them about the car, Alex. Confess! And then see if they will stand with you. See if they will take you from your cross and hold your hand. Tell them, oh Father most high!”

  Marcus had moved down the steps; he was next to Kate and Gina. The candle was on the floor beside Vinny. He reached for it, bringing it closer.

  “We know!” Marcus shouted. “He doesn’t have to confess. We already know, you son of a bitch! It wasn’t Vinny who stole the car; it wasn’t Vinny who hit that man. It was Alex! We already knew and it doesn’t matter, you bastard! It never mattered!”

  Alex moved and Vinny cradled his head in his arms. He touched Alex’s cheek with the palm of his hand and wasn’t surprised that Alex was weeping. “Vinny,” Alex managed as Lucien’s screams echoed in the chamber, “Get the others out.”

  “No!” Vinny looked around wildly. Marcus, Kate and Gina were huddled at the base of the stairs, but the old nun, if she had ever really been there, was gone.

  “Go,” Alex said. “Now.”

  Vinny lowered his head. The grip on his shirt loosened and then Alex spoke again and this time, Vinny recognized the verse. “Better to die in battle than see…ruin…will of God…shall be done…” Alex drew a deep, shuddering breath. The blood on his lips bubbled like soap and when he spoke again, his voice was stronger than before and he didn’t pause between words. “My mother was right, Vinny.” Alex moved, tried to lift his hand.

  “Cross,” he said. Vinny didn’t understand at first, but when Alex motioned with his hand, Vinny got it. “My mother’s...want you to have it…”

  Vinny, weeping, unhooked the gold cross that hung around Alex’s neck. He put it around his own neck, but couldn’t work the clasp. Alex watched Vinny put the cross in his pocket, and then, with a little smile said, “Get the others out.”

  Still weeping, Vinny rose to his feet. He knew he should say something to Alex, he knew he would regret this moment for as long as he lived, but even as he searched his heart for a word or a phrase that would help Alex, he could find nothing. There was no peace in his soul, nothing he could offer Alex now, when his friend needed it most. “I love you,” he whispered.