Claudia is moving toward the middle of the room, yelling at Mr. Murphy, who is still eating breakfast, to clear off a table. By now Benny has begun to scream. Claudia lays him down and then starts barking orders.
“I need to make a tourniquet, Samuel. Go to the kitchen and get me a rag or dish towel, anything! Just so I can stop the blood from flowing!” Mr. Murphy turns and runs.
Claudia looks over at Mrs. Winspear, who is in charge of answering the communal phone. “Martha! Call 911! Tell them we need an ambulance right away!”
Mrs. Winspear’s small eyes open wide inside her doughy face and her two chins tremble. She starts dialing the phone. Mr. Murphy reappears, holding a fistful of rubber bands, wet washcloths, and a beat-up-looking roll of gauze. I grab on to the back of Claudia’s shirt as she snatches a rag. She doesn’t seem to notice. Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpse Honey running down the length of the Great House, toward Emmanuel’s room. In the background, Mrs. Winspear is yelling into the telephone.
“Yes, that’s right, Mount Blessing! Right off of Sanctity Road. Yes, yes, the commune! There’s been a terrible accident! Please hurry!” Her voice, shrill as glass, cuts through me. Benny shrieks and kicks on the table, flailing his arms and legs wildly.
“Hold him down!” Claudia yells.
Christine and Mr. Murphy each take hold of Benny as Claudia begins tearing the washcloth into strips. Christine is crying—great, gulping sounds, like a child who has had a bad dream. Benny’s eyes are rolling around in their sockets and strange, grunting sounds are coming out of his mouth. I squeeze in next to Claudia and move in close to his face. Beads of sweat glisten above his pale eyebrows.
“Benny,” I whisper. “Benny, it’s Ags. I’m here, Benny. It’s gonna be okay. They called the ambulance, sweetie, and you’re gonna be all right. Don’t worry, Benny. I’m here.” He lurches, screaming again, as Claudia does something to his injured hand.
“It’s all right, Benny,” Claudia says firmly, her eyes wide with concentration. “I need you to be brave. Two of your fingers are hurt really bad and I need to wrap them up so that you don’t keep losing blood.” She gives Mr. Murphy a curt nod. “Hold him down, Samuel. He’s not going to like this.”
I sob along with Benny as he wails and arches his back under Claudia’s tight, rapid movements. Christine’s cries get louder. Suddenly, out of nowhere, Mom, Dad, and Nana Pete rush forward, trying to get through the throngs of other Believers who have gathered around the table.
“Isaac!” Christine takes a step back, nearly knocking me over. “Oh, Isaac, I’m sorry! It was an accident! I didn’t even see him go back in!” Dad looks confused for a moment as he stares down at Benny.
“It’s his hand?” Nana Pete shouts, trying to squeeze past Mr. Murphy. “Is that where he’s hurt?”
Suddenly the crowd begins to shift and separate. People move back and then fall silent as Emmanuel and Veronica walk through their midst. Claudia, who is still working like crazy, doesn’t notice as Emmanuel stands a few inches from my little brother, surveying the damage, but Dad looks up instantly. His face pales.
“Stop what you are doing,” Emmanuel says. He is eerily calm.
Claudia looks up. “Emmanuel.” She sounds stunned.
Emmanuel nods in Mrs. Winspear’s direction. “Call the ambulance back, Martha, and tell them it was a false alarm.”
Now it’s Mrs. Winspear’s turn to look confused. She brings her fat hands up to the sides of her face and presses them against her cheeks, looking first at Claudia and then back at Emmanuel.
Veronica takes a step forward and purses her lips. “Now, Martha.” Mrs. Winspear turns and starts to redial the phone.
Claudia stands up. “What are you—”
“Bring him into my room,” Emmanuel says. His voice is grave, mysterious.
“Oh no,” Claudia says, shaking her head. “With all due respect, this child doesn’t have time right now for a prayer service. He should get to the hospital immediately before he loses any more blood.”
“There’s not going to be a prayer service,” Emmanuel says. He leans over, lifting Benny from the table. “I am going to heal him.”
The crowd gasps.
Claudia’s face turns pale. “Heal him? How?”
Emmanuel’s voice booms over the upturned sea of Believer faces. “‘For truly I say to you, if you have faith like a grain of mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, “Move from here to there,” and it will move, and nothing will be impossible for you.’”
Claudia is aghast. “This child needs a surgeon! Faith can come later! There are bones in these fingers that are probably broken, tendons and nerves that must be reattached! There is nothing you can do here, Emmanuel! You have no medical training!”