She had no idea how long she’d been stuck in here. The gag in her mouth was cutting off her breath, and she figured if she breathed slowly through her nose she didn’t feel she would suffocate immediately. Her stomach heaved violently. Her whole body was going numb; she couldn’t feel her limbs anymore.
She heard footsteps and listened intently. They grew closer. She could tell there were two people coming toward her. One was shuffling, one was marching with purpose. She heard muted voices, muttering and moaning. She tried to scream, but the only sound that she could manage was a tiny whimper. She felt ashamed. At the moment of her death she should be full of grace, praying to the mother Mary to give her strength and acceptance. She didn’t doubt for a minute she was dying; she felt as if she’d left her body already. Her mind was able to register what was happening, but her body was slipping away and wouldn’t respond. She couldn’t feel them, but the tears began to roll down her face.
The door to the priest’s side of the confessional was thrown open. The box shook with the force of a body hitting the wall inside. Mary Margaret could see a man’s face, dim and veiled through the partition screen. The door to the confessional slammed again. They were left in darkness.
Mary Margaret could barely make out the white collar around the man’s throat. Something told her it must be Father Xavier. She whimpered again, trying to get his attention. His head lolled to the side. She wondered briefly if he was dead. When a moan escaped his lips, she breathed a slow sigh of relief through her nose. Neither of them were dead yet.
She tried to speak through the gag in her mouth, which had loosened.
“Futther,” she whispered. “Futther, ere ou kay?”
She was rewarded with a moan, and barely made out the word “devil.”
“Futther, ere oo okay?”
She watched him carefully through the screen. His breathing was labored; he was not gagged. Mary Margaret could see a trickle of blood flowing from the side of his head. She could tell his lips were moving, though no sound reached her ears.
The footsteps came again, and the door to the confessional was thrown open briefly. A hand snaked in and ripped the gag from her mouth. She heard the voice, disembodied, as if she were hearing the Holy Ghost speak aloud.
“Confess your sins, little one. Confess and be shriven, go to your heaven with an unsoiled soul.”
The door slammed shut again, but before she could cry out, she smelled gasoline. Heard the flick of the match. Felt the heat as the flames exploded around her.
“Father,” she screamed, somehow finding the strength to cry aloud. “Father, forgive me, for I have sinned.” The flames grew around her, scorching her hair, filling the tiny grave with smoke. She began to cough, knew she would speak no more. She prayed silently.
As Mary Margaret lost consciousness, she heard one last word. A strangled whisper. She didn’t know if it was from her God or the priest being immolated with her, but the word filled her with peace, and she stopped struggling against her earthly bonds.
“Forgiven,” the voice said.
And the flames took them.
Forty
He stood watching the flames, a small smile playing on his lips. He raised his eyes to the dark and boiling skies. “And when he had opened the seventh seal, there was silence in heaven…”
Forty-One
The skies were still roiling with gray and black clouds, and rain continued to pour down. Lightning reached out a fiery hand toward the earth. Nature wasn’t finished with her punishment, but the winds had lessened.
Downtown Nashville looked like a war zone. Trees, trash, metal; all were strewn around in the streets like litter after a celestial concert, carelessly dropped by receding waves of humanity. People were venturing into the streets to survey the damage, their eyes wide with the excitement and fear that accompanies every natural calamity. The sense of awe was palpable; it was dazzling to be involved in something that they had no control over.
Workplaces were left with flickering lights or no electricity at all, so many had shut down for the rest of the day. It was better for the people not directly involved in the cleanup to get out of the way. The tornado had cut a swath two hundred yards wide right down the main downtown streets of Nashville, but most of the outlying areas had only suffered superficial damage. There were no reports of deaths.