“Clay Tate!” Reverend swings around the corner. “What a nice surprise.”
He’s got a mug full of milky coffee that smells more like candy than coffee, his Bible tucked under his arm. “Sorry to keep you waiting. Couldn’t find my dang keys. Had to dig around for the spares.” He yanks up his collar, but not before I spot the hickey on his neck.
I glance back at the garage. He must have company. I wonder who it is.
“From the looks of you and me, I think it’s safe to guess we both got a little carried away last night. I’m a sinner, Clay, but I think the big guy will forgive me. Praise the lord,” he says with a nervous laugh.
He goes to unlock the door, only to find keys already dangling from the lock. “That’s strange,” he murmurs. He turns the knob and pushes the door open.
The odor hits us like a brick wall.
Like rotting meat and herbs. The sound of flies buzzing around.
At the front of the church, directly in front of the pulpit, is Jimmy Doogan. Stark naked, kneeling at the altar.
“Guess we’re not the only ones who had a fun night.” Reverend laughs. “Son, you better skedaddle,” he calls out to him. “Folks are going to start showing up here any minute and unless you want them to see your—holy mother of God.” He gasps as he drops his coffee and Bible.
I step around Reverend; I feel drawn to the altar. Jimmy’s eyes are open. Pure black. His pale white skin looks like it’s made of marble. His mouth’s agape, like he’s getting ready to tell me something. There’s a bloody knife next to him. In front, the symbol, the upside-down U with two dots above and below, smeared in blood. I can’t tell what he’s holding, but his hands are cupped in front of him, on his lap, just like Noodle from my dream.
I crouch so I can feel for a pulse. As soon as I make contact with his neck, I know he’s dead. I know the feel of dead flesh. I glance down at his cupped hands. He’s holding something smooth and sticky with dark blood. It takes a while for my brain to catch up to what I’m seeing. And when it hits me, hot acid rises in my throat.
I stagger back, knocking over the American flag on a stand and bashing into the upright piano, my fingers slamming down on the keys. I careen outside to see the lot filling up. People smiling, greeting each other. Ladies carrying casseroles, men straightening their ties. I see the sheriff and his wife get out of their car. Ely’s eyes lock on mine; I feel my insides crumble.
“Clay, what is it?” Sheriff says as he steps toward me.
Unable to produce a sound, I slump down on the steps, my hands trembling.
“Help!” Reverend yells from inside the church. I put my hands over my ears. I can’t stand to hear his voice. “Help,” he yells louder and louder like a cranked up siren, gaining strength with every rotation of breath.
Sheriff gives me the strangest look before he hurries into the church. People are rushing in from every direction. Someone calls an ambulance. There’s weeping and throwing up. I peer through the chaos, across the lot, to see Ali, Tyler, Ben, and Tammy leaning against the back of Tyler’s car. They’re just staring at me, like they’re not surprised in the least. Could they’ve had something to do with this?
“Clay.” Miss Granger grabs my arm, pulling me away from the church. I didn’t even see her pull up. She’s wearing the same clothes from last night. She looks a mess, like she hasn’t slept a wink.
“He’s dead,” I murmur. “It’s starting, isn’t it? I dreamt about this last night. Jimmy’s the first one to fall. We need to warn the others, we need to tell Sheriff Ely.”
“Clay, look at me,” she says forcefully. “You can’t tell them you had a premonition of Jimmy’s death or they will lock you up at Oakmoor. Believe me, that’s not a place you want to be right now. You have to trust me on this.”
Sheriff steps out of the church, pushing everyone back.
“I need you to go home,” Miss Granger pleads as she leads me to my truck. “Go about your normal Sunday.”
“But…”
“If anyone comes to talk to you, you know nothing. Do you understand me?”
I look back at the church to find Sheriff staring right at me, like he knows.
She nudges me into the truck.
As I pull out of the lot, I can feel the eyes of the Preservation Society kids on me like I’m a moving target. I can’t believe how calm and collected they are. Is this punishment for what Jimmy did to Jess? Is that what this is about? Did they do it for me? Tyler threatened him last night, but so did I, and I have no alibi for my whereabouts last night. I was in the woods, alone, having a prophetic dream because I’m a goddamn prophet. I grab my cap off the dash and pull it down low. I look down at my hands, the dried blood under my fingernails, and I wonder, could I have done this myself?
27