Full-on, batshit crazy.
Two minutes later he saw the church. The reverend drove past it twice, studying it, craning his neck. He stopped at the drive, watching the road through the glass, the rearview mirror. “Do you see anything?”
“Like what?”
“Police. Other people.”
“No, sir.”
“You sure?”
Gideon kept quiet, and after a moment’s silence the preacher pulled up the twisting drive and parked.
“Stay in the car.”
He opened his door, and wind carried the smell of every summer Gideon had ever known. For a moment, he thought of better times; then the hatch opened, and Liz started fighting, the thrashing so violent and loud and hard to watch that Gideon was screaming by the time she flopped onto the dirt, and the same horrible, crackling sound made her go as limp as if dead. He wanted to help her. But, the reverend nailed him with those dull eyes and crushed whatever part of him thought there would be an explanation. He’d imagined it mere seconds ago. The car would stop. The preacher would wink and laugh, and suddenly everyone else would be laughing, too. Joke’s on me, he’d realize.
But, it was no joke.
The preacher had his daughter on a shoulder. He was tearing down tape, leaning into a wooden door that opened with a lurch and swallowed them up. Suddenly, Gideon was alone with the girl. “Please, don’t cry. He’s just sick, I think. Or confused.”
But the girl fought when the preacher reappeared. She screamed behind the tape and fought as Liz had fought, so red-faced and desperate that Gideon got out of the car and pulled at the preacher’s arm as he dragged the girl out.
“Reverend, please! She’s just a girl. She’s scared.”
“What did I say about the car?”
“Let’s just go back to town, okay? This doesn’t have to be real. None of it has to be real.”
It was like a nightmare, and he was begging to wake up. But the sun was too hot for it to be a dream, the church too solid and tall. He tried again to stop what was happening, but the preacher shoved him away, hard enough to make something tear deep in Gideon’s chest. He fell hard on the ground and felt heat on his skin as the bandages soaked through. The preacher had the girl under an arm. Gideon caught his belt; tried to pull himself up.
“Let go, son.”
“Reverend, please…”
“I said let go.”
But Gideon refused. “This is not right, Reverend, and it’s not you. Please stop!” He pulled harder, his feet dragging in the dirt. “Please!” He tried a final time before the stun gun touched his chest, and the Reverend Black—without looking twice—pulled the trigger and put him down.
*
Elizabeth woke to movement and shadow, the church gathering around her as if conjured. She was being carried past tumbled pews and colored glass, and for that instant it felt as if childhood, too, had been conjured. She knew every beam above her head, and every creak the old floor made.
“Father…”
After a moment’s peace memory began its aching return, the pieces, as dull and scattered as crushed glass. Silver tape. Pain. None of it made sense.
“Dad?”
“Patience,” he said. “We’re almost there.”
She blinked, and more of it came, the kids and the back of a car and the burn that took her down a second time. Was it real? She couldn’t believe it, but her vision was blurred, and she hurt as if the most vital nerves had been stripped from her body.
He was looking down and smiling, but no reason was in his eyes. “We’ll be together soon,” he said; and the rest of it crashed down: the struggle and the silence, a blue tarp and movement and the heat of Channing’s skin. She fought then, so he dropped her and put metal prongs against her skin. When she woke again, she was naked on the altar. “Don’t cry,” he said; but she couldn’t help it. Tears burned her face. She was hurt and terrified and choking. This was not her father, not her life. She strained to sit, saw Channing on the floor, and cried for her, too, that she also was in this place.
“Why are you doing this?”
“Don’t be embarrassed.” He turned away, and she fought the ropes. “There’s no need for that here, not between us.”
He said it softly, removing his jacket and putting it on a pew. Beside the coat was a package. When he opened it, Elizabeth saw white linen, neatly folded. He shook it free, and that’s when the enormity of his sins took root and blossomed like some terrible flower.
His church …
Such horrible things …
“All those women.”
“Hush now.”
“This can’t be happening.” Her head rocked side to side. He put a hand on her forehead. “You don’t have to do this,” she said. “Whatever’s happening here, whatever you think this is, you don’t have to do it.”