“Get them,” he said.
EBENEZER OBSERVED the morning’s proceedings with a gathering sense of doom.
He’d leapt out of bed when those agonized screams shattered the calm. He landed on both feet. His ankle was quite a bit better. He could put almost his full weight on it. He and Ellen watched people gather in front of the Reverend’s place. He opened the door and listened. Ellen was at his elbow.
“Oh God,” she whispered when they overheard the Little Heavenites tell the Reverend about the new missing kids. But her nephew was safe. Eb saw the boy standing beside his stoop-shouldered loaf of a father.
Ellen told Eb that she wanted to help with the search of the compound.
“You should, if only to show your empathy,” he said. “But I can’t go.”
“Why not?”
“My ankle.”
“You’re fine,” Ellen said. “You’re walking on it now.”
“Yes, but I don’t want them to know that.”
“Why not?”
Ebenezer thought about quoting Sun Tzu but thought better of it. Ellen said, “Fine, do whatever you want,” and began to pull her boots on. But then Virgil—the more moronic of the Reverend’s two lapdogs—showed up.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he announced.
“Why not?” said Ellen.
“Reverend’s orders.”
After that, the compound was searched. The kids were not found. Worshippers rounded back into the square. Ebenezer listened at the shut door, trying to catch what the Reverend was saying.
“I believe this stands to end poorly for us,” he said to Ellen.
They watched out the bunkhouse window. The Reverend pointed in their direction. A group of supplicants began to stalk toward them. Next, the door swung open and the denizens of Little Heaven poured in.
A red-faced man rushed Eb. He kicked the man in the knee. The man screamed and twisted aside, but another man steamed in behind him and clocked Ebenezer spang in the face. Jesus! Wasn’t very Christian, was it? Ebenezer reeled to see Ellen crushed under a weight of bodies. She was being dragged outside. The man who’d slugged Ebenezer came at him again—big, with a baleful glare in his eyes. The father of the missing girl, Eb was pretty sure. He pinned Ebenezer’s arms to his sides; Eb brought a knee up into his gut. Eb felt slightly bad doing so, the man’s agonies being what they were. Undeterred, the menfolk of Little Heaven hurled themselves at him. Ebenezer tagged a few others with solid shots as they rushed him, but ultimately they got him down, hit him until he could taste his own blood, and hauled him into the harsh morning sunshine.
“You took the children,” the Reverend said. “The four of you planned it, and the other two executed it. They are holding them now, aren’t they? You thought that we wouldn’t catch you out? The Lord has laid your plans bare.”
“Why would we take them?” Eb spat blood. “That makes no sense. Can’t you see that?”
What did these people think they were—a roaming quartet of kidnappers combing the woods for isolated camps so they could poach children? It wasn’t logical, but Eb knew logic had a way of dissolving in circumstances like this. Fear and worry ate into reason like acid, making the most ludicrous possibilities seem plausible.
“Oh, but isn’t the devil a coy liar?” The Reverend’s lips fleered into a manic grin. “The father of lies! Do you think you could prey on our most innocent ones? Did you think the Lord and His humble servants would not strike you down for your vile trespasses?”
“How did nobody hear?” Eb said. “Three kids are gone—”
“Four,” said the Reverend. “Eli Rathbone is missing again, too.”
A strangled moan from somewhere in the crowd at this news.
“Snatched from his bed like the others,” the Reverend plowed on. “But you knew that, didn’t you?”
“Four kids gone,” Eb said, swallowing the blood collecting in the back of his throat, “and nobody heard anything? How could that be?”
The Reverend said, “Satan has his ways. His minions, too.”
A voice broke out of the crowd. “Where is Cyril?”
The worshippers peeled back. Otis Langtree stood there, flanked by Charlie Fairweather. They were caked in trail dust, wearing backpacks. Eb figured they had just recently rounded back into the compound.
The Reverend stood stunned, a wristwatch stopped midtick. “What?”
“Cyril,” Otis repeated. “Your man.”
“You two left the compound,” said the Reverend with a leaden swallow. “Isn’t that right? You left with the other outsiders. Where did you go?”
“They wanted to get their gear,” said Otis. “From their campground. We guided them back. We would’ve been back sooner, but we got turned around.” He bit the inside of his cheek. “Lost all track of time. Hours that neither one of us can account for. Something’s gone real screwy in those woods, Reverend.”
“And the first thing we noticed coming back is that Cyril, he ain’t standing watch over Eli’s quarters like he was the other night.” Charlie squinted at Amos Flesher—a bold, assessing glance. “Is he still here, Reverend—Cyril, I mean? He anywhere about?”
Weird voltages raced under the Reverend’s face. “I… He should be—”
Ebenezer watched the scene unfold with keen interest. It was happening fast, but then the balance, when it swung, often did so swiftly—
“Reverend?” said Otis. “If Cyril’s not anywhere to be found…” A meaningful pause, with a nod to Eb and Ellen. “With all due respect, I think you might have chased the wrong dog here. I’m not certain these are your culprits.”
The congregants murmured among themselves. Charlie and Otis were two of the most respected persons at Little Heaven.
Reverend Flesher’s eyes went hard. “The Lord has spoken to me, Brother Langtree. These are His words.”
Otis’s head dropped…
No! thought Ebenezer. Don’t let him cow you! Be a man for once in your goddamn life!
Then, slowly, Otis’s head rose again.
Bloody good show! There’s the iron in that spine!
“Reverend, I’ve been with you for many years,” Otis said. “I followed you and I’m going to keep on following. But I think this one time you got your signals crossed up.”
Another murmur raced through the throng, an electric one this time. Dissent, discord. Ebenezer felt a shifting of the tide—a physical, almost visual swing, like the bubble in a carpenter’s level.
“We’ve been with those other two,” said Charlie. “The outsiders. We took them back to their camp, like I said. We left them many miles shy of Little Heaven. But they ain’t running away. They aim to return. I don’t forecast they should arrive much before dark, if so at all tonight.”
“All that’s to say, they were nowhere near here last night,” said Otis.
“And these two,” said Charlie, with a nod at Eb and Ellen. “They been in their bunkhouse all this time, ain’t that right?”
The Reverend’s face shaded pig-belly pink. Eb could practically see the gears inside his skull burning out in stinking puffs of smoke.
“All things considered, I think Cyril might be your man,” said Otis.
“You take that back!” Virgil said tremblingly.
Otis ignored him. “It might not have been Cyril. Snatching four kids right out of their beds, quiet as a whisper? That’d be a tough job for a whole team of men. So… it could have been something else.”
“What else could it be?” the mother of the missing boys said despairingly.