Poppy took a swipe at the figurine in Rory’s hand and sent it flying across the room. “Shut up, boy, and never shove that demon idol in my face again. You hear me?”
“Easy there, Prophecy,” Rex said, finding his tongue. “My son meant no harm. It’s just a toy from a movie.”
“You teach your children to play with demon dolls and call it harmless? Is that what you preach in this church of yours, Deacon Lawther?”
Rex chose his words carefully. “Like my son says, it’s a blue alien from outer space, not a demon. There is no demon worship here.”
“Oh, no? The Bible says there’s no such thing as space aliens.”
Rex winced. “The Bible says a lot of things about a lot of things, but I’m pretty sure it has no opinion on aliens one way or the other.”
“Maybe not your Bible, but the King James is pretty clear on the matter.”
Rex sat back in his chair. He consulted his wife with a look, then got up from the table. “I’ll go fetch a KJV, and maybe you’d be so kind as to show me the verse. I’m always glad to learn new things.”
“No need,” Poppy said, unsnapping the Bible holster on his belt. “I carry my own.” He drew his book and set it on the table.
The rest of the meal became somewhat strained as Poppy searched for the verse. Conversations sputtered. Flirtations choked. Dessert flopped. Cindy went into the kitchen to make coffee, and Deut excused the children from the room. The adults stayed on, and still Poppy searched, flipping pages in the old book with barely concealed frustration.
“If you have a keyword,” Ginger offered, “I could do an online search.” Poppy ignored her completely. “In all translations,” she added. Her father warned her off with a frown.
The boys started discussing their day of shopping. A twenty-foot (6 m) U-Haul truck was parked on the street in front of the house. There was still room inside to fill, and they still had money to spend. One of the things they had purchased was a brand new Arctic Cat sno-go, still in its shipping crate. Although Lawther was the local Arctic Cat dealer, they had purchased it in Anchorage rather than from him. They’d never even discussed it with him. Rex decided not to bring the matter up; what good would it do?
There would be no shopping the next day, for it was the Lord’s Day, a day of worship and rest. But not for Adam, who had received permission to drive the pickup to Soldotna to “help a friend move out of her apartment.” Hosea volunteered to come along and help. Meanwhile, Proverbs was wondering if Ginger wanted to go ice skating with him at the new sports center (thanks but not really), and Rory was wondering if Deut would enjoy a movie at the cineplex (thanks but not possible).
Rex kept glancing at his watch. “I gotta head back to the shop,” he said at last. “Tonight’s a big night, and I’ve been away too long as it is. When you find the verse, just leave me a note, and I’ll look it up when I get back.” He stood up and nodded at Rory to accompany him.
“Here it is,” Poppy announced. “For some reason I thought it was in Jeremiah, but it’s actually in Romans. Chapter 8, verse 22.” He marked the place with his finger while he checked to see if he had everyone’s attention.
“‘For we know that the whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain together until now.’” He shut the book with a satisfied thump and fixed Rex with a challenging look. But Rex was slow to understand, and Poppy continued, “Let me explain it to you, deacon. Before Adam’s sin, there was no death, and man was without fault. But the woman led man into sin, and death entered the world. Not only our world but all worlds everywhere. That’s what this passage says.” He tapped the book with a heavy finger. “‘The whole creation groaneth’ under the weight of Adam’s transgression. That means that if there are people with souls on other planets, they too are part of His creation and they too die because of Adam. And in the final days — which are upon us — their planets will burn. And yet, since they are not children of Adam, they cannot be saved. For the Bible says that Elder Brother Jesus was the second Adam, not the second blue man, not the second space alien.”
“Hmm,” Rex said, “you make a point, Prophecy. Do you mind?” He took Poppy’s Bible and reopened it. “Romans 8:22 you say?”
Poppy addressed the young people. “Space aliens, flying saucers, vampires, zombies, and werewolves are all inventions of Satan to spread demon worship in the world.” He looked at Rory. “Tell me, boy, is your God a just God?”
“Yessir, He is!”
“Then why would He create a race of blue men to suffer eternal damnation and give them no means of salvation?”
“I don’t know.”
“He wouldn’t. It would go against everything we know about the Father. That’s how we know there are no space aliens.”
LATER THAT NIGHT, as Rex and Rory were returning from the store, Rex said, “Before you go to bed tonight, I want you to gather up all your Star Trek and Star Wars memorabilia. The Doctor Who and Futurama posters and stuff too.”
“But those are science fiction, Dad. It’s not like they’re Harry Potter or Twilight with all the dark magic and all.”
“I know, son, but Prophecy makes a good argument. I’m a little embarrassed that I didn’t see it myself.”
“But, Dad.”
“I’ll discuss the whole thing with Bishop Thornby, but in the meantime, it’s probably a good idea to keep that stuff out in the garage.”
NN6 1.0
FIRSTDAY WAS A day for unfinished business. Poppy idled the Camry in front of the Palmer police station. No matter what kind of hurt NJB had gotten himself into, the Prophecys owed him a lot. The least Poppy could do in return was to learn what had happened to him.
Still, Poppy despised the police in all their many shapes and forms, from meter maids to FBI agents, and everything in between. He’d found in his long and eventful life that the best defense against their bullying ways was to avoid them whenever possible. And so, despite his desire to learn about the bloodletting in NJB’s house, he slipped the car into gear and drove to his next destination, the Palmer post office.
Poppy’s business, HIS CREATIONS LLC, kept a post office box there that NJB checked for him on a regular basis. Although most of Poppy’s business was conducted online, a sizable portion of his customer base was elderly and unplugged and still preferred to use old-fashioned paper order forms and personal checks.
Poppy’s drawer-sized postal box was full to overflowing, another sign of NJB’s prolonged absence. A pink card on top of the pile directed him to call at the parcel pickup window to collect even more. He did so, though it meant standing in line, and he despised standing in line about as much as he despised the cops. He gathered all of his mail and carried it to one of the tables next to a tall trash bin.
The envelopes contained checks and completed order forms. Some orders were for praying hands and other carvings, but most were for nativity sets and tree ornaments. While it was too late to fulfill new orders, it would be a shame to waste the payments. So he set about opening the envelopes, plucking out the checks, and tossing the remainder into the trash bin. Slit, pluck, toss. Slit, pluck, toss. He fell into the rhythm of the job. It was as mindless as shelling peas. The checks were stacking up, and they’d be able to add another three or four thousand dollars to their shopping spree.
One envelope contained neither check nor order form but a folded sheet of paper. Thinking it was a letter, he unfolded it and got a nasty surprise. No letter, it was a photocopy of what at first glance appeared to be an artsy, black-and-white photograph. It was taken in a studio against a fabric backdrop and was lighted for dramatic effect. The subjects were two completely naked men, one embracing the other from behind, the swollen shaft of his penis swallowed up in the rear end of the other. The man in back was a young black man and was no one Poppy knew. The shocker was the other man. It was unmistakably his friend and benefactor — Not Jeff Bridges — leering into the camera’s eye.
“My sweet God!” Poppy exclaimed. Other post office patrons tur
ned to look at him. He flipped the sheet of paper over, but there was nothing on the other side. The envelope was addressed to: Postal Patron, Palmer, AK 99645. The return address had been left blank.
After scooping up his stack of checks, Poppy stormed back to the pick-up window, cut to the front of the line, slammed the offending image on the metal counter, and demanded, “What in damnation is this?”
The postal employee, a bored-looking man in his 50s, glanced at the sheet of paper and said, “It looks pretty obvious to me what that is. Now, if you don’t mind, there’s a line ahead of you.”
“Who sent this to me?” Poppy roared.
The employee simply lowered the metal shutter, closing the window. Poppy’s fury exploded, and he hammered on the shutter with his hands. Other patrons backed away and left the building. When Poppy’s arms grew tired, he marched down the aisle of postal boxes and headed to the retail lobby. Before he got there, another postal employee came out to intercept him. It was a small woman whose name badge identified her as the postmaster.
She disarmed Poppy with a look of concern and said, “May I help you, sir? I understand you received one of those horrid letters.”
“I received this!” he bellowed, waving the offending photocopy in her face.
She retreated a step. “Rest assured that you weren’t the only one. Every postal patron in Wallis and Palmer received one of those. They caused a big stink about a month ago when they started showing up. But it was legitimate mail, and we had to deliver it, even though we got many complaints. There was nothing we could do but warn people. You must have been out of town and missed that.”
“Who sent it to me?”
“We don’t know that yet. The postmarks on the envelopes say they originated in several small towns outside Topeka, Kansas. But rest assured, the FBI is looking into the matter. Especially after . . . ”
Poppy felt a chill. “Especially after what?”
Poppy could see that he was frightening the woman, so he took a breath and tried lowering his voice. “My anger is a just and righteous anger, ma’am, but I apologize for unleashing it upon you, for I know it’s not your fault.” He wadded up the flyer and stuffed it into his coat pocket. “It’s ugly business is what it is, and it took me off guard is all. I don’t get into town too often, so it came as a nasty surprise. And now that I’ve seen the obscenity, I can never unsee it, if you know what I mean. I grieve for the innocence of any child who accidentally got a look at it.”
The postmaster began nodding her head in agreement.
“So I feel I must at least learn the circumstances of the matter, if you would be so kind as to explain it to me. Who are those men? What has become of them?”
“Well, that young man is — was — the pharmacist at the Palmer One-Care Clinic” the postmaster said. “But he disappeared some two months ago. It caused a stir, but he was having problems at home, and he apparently told all his friends he wished he lived anywhere but Palmer. So folks figured he just left town without telling anyone. The other fellow is a local businessman. He also disappeared, shortly after that letter started showing up in everyone’s mail. The police suspect foul play, but they’re keeping tight-lipped about the whole investigation. The FBI came in to determine if there is any connection between the letter and the disappearances. That’s all anybody knows about it.”
Poppy thanked her for her trouble, retrieved the remainder of his mail, and returned to the car. I swear on my life I never harmed anyone.
NN7 1.0
IT WAS NEAR midnight when Rex returned from Greatland Action Sports, but Cindy and Ginger were still up and waiting for him in the kitchen. Their guests were all bedded down for the night. Rex sat at the kitchen table with a weary grunt and said, “What’s up?”
Ginger glanced at her mother before launching into it. “They’re leaving tomorrow, and Deut was saying how nice it would be if I visited them. I’d like to do that, spend the holidays with them.”
“Where? In McHardy?”
“Yes, at their mine.”
This was not a request Rex had anticipated, and he glanced at Cindy, who said, “I already told her I don’t think it’s a very good idea.”
“Why not?” Ginger said. “I’ve lived in Alaska my whole life, but I’ve seen so little of it. Tourists see more of Alaska than I do. This is my last chance to experience real bush life before I leave for college. And I want to do it.”
Rex was about to reply, but she wasn’t finished. “Besides, I like her. I like Deut. We could be friends, I think, and she doesn’t have any friends in the whole world. I mean, she has plenty of brothers and sisters, that’s for sure, but there’s no one else our age lives out there. I mean, except her twin, but I get the idea that they don’t get on too well. Do you have any idea what that must be like? And their ‘lord’ prohibits TVs, radios, books, computers — everything. So it’s not like she can even have online friends.”
This daughter of his always surprised Rex with the things she came up with. But this one was a stretch.
“And you’re good with that?” he said. “You can unplug yourself for a few weeks?”
“I don’t see why not. Anyway, I’ll go on the bus with them and just stay till after New Year’s. I can get back out to Glennallen on the mail plane or a charter. And Rory says he’ll drive to Glennallen to pick me up. I already asked him. So, can I go?”
“Actually,” Rex said, “I’m tending to agree with your mother on this. While I’d be curious to see the results of that experiment — you offline for weeks — what happens when Mr. Prophecy orders you to start calling him lord? Think you can do that?”
“He won’t,” she said breezily. “He hasn’t asked me once or asked Rory either to call him that.”
“Not here, maybe, but under his own roof?”
“The question, Dad, is whether or not you and Mom raised a responsible person or not. Have I ever let you two down? Have I ever gotten into something I couldn’t handle? If you can’t trust me to take care of myself in McHardy, Alaska, how are you ever going to trust me in North Carolina next year? I might as well forget about going to college.”
The girl had a point. She usually did.
NN8 1.0
THE SHOPPING WAS done, the money mostly spent, and the Prophecys were returning to Stubborn Keep, never to emerge again. At least not on this Earth.
Sue Krae, Adam’s betrothed, stayed overnight at a Wallis motel. Poppy went over there to interview her and pass judgment on the match. He asked her questions about everything from her relationship with her parents and the finer points of her faith to the kinds of skills and assets she’d be bringing to her new family. Her answers seemed forthright and respectful, and it was obvious that she was in love with Adam. Poppy asked her if she was forced to choose between her own life and the welfare of her new family, which would she choose?
The welfare of her new family, of course.
On the other hand, she was a coarse-looking woman with a slight whiff of trailer trash about her. Still, on such short notice and all, she was about the best Adam could hope for. So Poppy blessed the match and asked her to join them in the keep.
Afterward, Poppy pulled the Camry into the spacious Fred Meyer parking lot. He disentangled a shopping cart from the rack and rolled it into the bright, cavernous store to the pharmacy.
The Fred Meyer department store chain was a wonder, really. One-stop shopping had to be the crowning achievement of a materialistic society. You, the almighty consumer, could roll your cart down spacious boulevards lined on both sides and stacked to the ceiling with everything from paint to yoghurt, bullets to band-aids. You simply tipped whatever you desired into your sturdy wire basket on wheels.
In reality, there were no Aisles of Plenty. Fred Meyer was an illusion. It had no more substance than a public fountain. Shut off the water and all you had left was an empty basin.
Alaska had no large-scale agriculture of its own to lean on in times of disruption. Nearly everything Alaska
ns ate came up from the Lower 48. Alaska had no large-scale industry either (besides Big Oil and Government), and it imported every mass-produced item that Alaskans used. Everything. Alaskans were voluntary hostages to long, vulnerable supply chains of 18-wheelers, ocean barges and freighters, and no one seemed to notice or care.
People were sure to begin caring very soon when the supply chains were permanently broken by an inconvenient Apocalypse, and six hundred thousand residents all discovered at the same time that they couldn’t buy food anymore.
Poppy scanned the faces around him as he pushed his cart. Future looters all.
In the pharmacy alcove, there were lines of shoppers at the cash registers. To stand in a line anywhere was galling enough for Poppy, but to stand in line in Alaska was doubly so. Reluctantly, Poppy joined the shortest one.
You could still find physicians in Alaska who were sympathetic to the bush lifestyle and had no qualms writing scripts for one’s bush medicine chest. The Lawther’s family doctor was one such physician, and he had written Poppy scripts for Amoxicillin, 800 mg ibuprofen, and a ninety-day supply of prednisone for Proverbs.
Ninety pills weren’t much. Even if Proverbs could return in ninety days for a refill, Poppy doubted that this pharmacy would still be here. The pharmacy was sure to be the first target. Either the pharmacy or the firearms department. Or the liquor store.
Fortunately, Proverbs reconnected with a street pharmacist NJB had found him and managed to acquire three factory-sealed jars containing one thousand prednisone tablets each. That should tide him over.
After the looters had armed themselves, liquored up, and raided the pharmacy, they would tackle the canned goods, bottled water, and bulk food. They’d clear out the clothes and shoe departments. They’d haul off all the electronics though there’d be no way to use them once the electricity failed. The looters wouldn’t stop until every shelf in the store was picked clean. A lot of them would spill their own blood in the mad rush and some would meet their Maker in these very aisles.
Upon This Rock Page 15