Borderlands 5 (15 page)

Josh’s heart sank at the dark looks gathering on the adults’ faces. It had taken Scotty half an hour to get out of the house this morning. The pressure he was now under could only make it worse.

Finally, on the eighth attempt, Scotty seemed satisfied that he had “done it right”, the only explanation he was ever able to give for his strange behavior. Josh quickly followed and found him staring at the floor, trying not to look at any of the framed scriptures hanging on the wall.

The ordeal was repeated at the doors into the auditorium. But before Scotty could manage to get through, his mother grabbed him and pulled him inside.

“No!” Scotty struggled wild-eyed to get back to the doors he had passed through wrong. “Lemme go!  Lemme go!”

“You see what he’s like?” his mother cried as she dragged Scotty all the way up the aisle. “I can’t take any more of this!” She slapped Scotty again, then kept on slapping him as he cried and struggled all the harder. Josh rushed up and pulled her away.

“Mom, stop it. You’re hurting him.”

“It’s not
him
. It’s that devil that’s in him.” She looked over to where the two church deacons were holding Scotty between them. He was crying but no longer resisting. “We’ve got to get that devil out of him.” She stared back at Josh, her grey eyes uncomprehending. “Can’t you understand that?”

Josh wanted to say something but before he could find the words Pastor Roberts came up.

“I’m sure Josh understands that, Sister.” The preacher led them to a front pew. “You remember Mark, don’t you Josh?”

“Yes, Pastor. Mark, chapter one, verses 23 through 27. The man in the synagogue with the unclean spirit.”

“And?”

“Mark, chapter five, verses 2 through 19. The man with the legion of unclean spirits that were released into the swine.”

“And you believe your Bible, don’t you Josh?”

“Yes, Pastor.”

“There, you see, Sister?” The Pastor smiled with approval, and his mother seemed comforted. “Josh knows what is right and what is not. Now as for Scotty here …”

Pastor Roberts held up a book. Scotty’s Bible. Josh wondered how he had gotten ahold of it. Scotty looked down at the floor. The Pastor opened the book and began flipping through it.

“There seem to be a lot of words blacked out here, Scotty. Would you know anything about that?”

Scotty shrugged, refusing to look up.

“From the looks of it,” the Pastor continued, “it’s really just one word that’s been blacked out, isn’t it?”

Closing the book, the Pastor resumed his clasped-hands stance. “Say the word, Scotty. Your mother here needs to hear you say it. We
all
need to hear you say it. Say ‘Jesus’.”

Scotty flinched and did a quick touch series. Josh hoped the others didn’t see it.

“I can’t.”  Scotty’s whisper seemed to bounce off the walls.

Reaching down, the Pastor lifted Scotty’s face up and clasped it in both hands.

“Yes, you can. Say it with me now.” Lifting his own face heavenward, the Pastor closed his eyes and began speaking in sermon cadence. “Praise Jesus.”

“Praise …” Scotty’s mouth stayed open but nothing else came out. “Everyone,” the Pastor commanded without looking, “help our Brother Scotty in his hour of need. Praise Jesus.”

A chorus of “Praise Jesus” went up. Josh thought his own voice sounded hollow. He couldn’t hear Scotty’s.

“Praise Jesus!” the Pastor shouted, as if he were speaking to an entire congregation.

Please, Jesus,
Josh prayed even as he voiced the response,
help my brother. Help him say Your name.

Tears were streaming down Scotty’s upturned face and his fingers danced their ritual dance. When the Pastor looked down again, he grabbed the boy’s hands in his own, stopping the motion.

“Brother Scotty! Jesus needs to hear you say His name. He needs to hear it now. Praise Jesus!”

“Prai … prai …” Scotty stammered. Suddenly he tried to twist away, but the Pastor held him fast. Then he threw up.

The smell was sharp and sour and it tugged at Josh’s stomach. One of the deacons went for a mop and a bucket. The Pastor was staring at Scotty in astonishment, and even a little fear. Josh wondered about that. He had never seen the Pastor, or any other preacher for that matter, afraid of anything. Taking out his handkerchief, he began cleaning Scotty’s face.

“You okay?” he asked in a low voice. Scotty coughed, trying to answer.

“I tried, Josh. I really did.”

“I know you did, Scotty.”

“Josh …” It was scarcely a whisper. “I’m scared.”

“Don’t worry. It’s gonna be okay.” Josh looked up at the faces around them, again seeing the fear in their eyes. “You’ll see,” he said, to Scotty, to the others, and to himself. “It’s gonna be okay.”

T
he Pastor kept Scotty at the church for an all night prayer vigil and sent Josh home. Josh’s mother went back to the neighbor’s house, where she had been staying for the last three days. Wheezer, a black-and-white dog of unplanned parentage, kept him company. Josh fed Wheezer and then fixed his own dinner. Later, he lay in bed, thinking about his father. After a long while, he finally fell asleep.

Deacon Evans called the next day and told Josh to bring some fresh clothes for Scotty. He sounded tired and distracted.

“How’s Scotty doing?” Josh asked.

“Well, it’s been a powerful struggle, and it ain’t over yet,” Evans admitted. Josh could hear him scratching the stubble on his chin. “But don’t you worry none. Ever’one in Morgan’s prayin’ that the Lord’ll guide Pastor Roberts’ hand in this matter.”

When Josh arrived, Deacon Evans was in the back of the church, sitting outside the room where the choir robes were kept. His suit was rumpled and his tie hung loosely around his neck. He nodded at the door but did not follow Josh in.

Scotty was asleep, lying across a couple of folding chairs. When Josh touched him on the shoulder, he awoke with a start, almost falling off the chairs.

“Hey, s’okay,” Josh said quickly. “It’s just me.”

Scotty blinked a couple of times, confused. He looked tired, his face drawn and pale.

“Oh,” he finally said, rubbing his eyes. “Is it over? Can I go home now?”

“I don’t think so,” Josh said, remembering Deacon Evans outside the door. He looked around the room. The windowless walls were bare of any adornment, other than a rack of choir robes pushed up against one wall. “Have you been here all night?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“What have they been doing?”

Scotty pulled his knees up to his chin, his feet resting on the edge of the chair.

“Well, they pray a lot, asking God to get this devil out of me. And, and …”  Scotty bit his lip, thinking.

“And what?”

“They keep asking me my name all the time. I kept telling them ‘Scotty’, but they just got mad. So I quit telling them that. But I don’t know what else to tell them.”

“Anything else?” Josh took the clothes out of the paper bag and laid them on one of the chairs.

Flexing his heels, Scotty rocked back and forth on the chair. He stared at the floor for a long time before answering.

“Yeah, they … they made me take my clothes off once. They said they were looking for devil’s marks. The only thing they found was that spot on my arm, where the skin’s a different color. They argued about that a lot.”

Josh glanced back at the closed door.

“Scotty,” he asked quietly, “why did you mark through all the …” He hesitated, then continued. “… the ‘Jesus’s in your Bible?”

The finger ritual was still there, but slower this time.

“I don’t know. It’s just that every time I see it, or hear it, I just feel like … like somethin’ bad’s gonna happen. Somethin’ real bad.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know,” Scotty cried, “Just something bad.”

“Were you able to say it last night?”

“No.”  Scotty looked up. “Josh, I’m tired. I wanna go home.”

“I know. But …”

The room suddenly felt too small, the air too thick. He needed to get out of there. Away from there. Away from all of it.

“Look, it won’t be much longer. Just hang in there. God …” The word seemed suddenly strange, like he didn’t know what it meant anymore. “God’ll take care of it. You’ll see.” He forced himself to smile, and to believe. “It’ll be okay.”

T
he barbed wire cut at Josh’s work gloves as he pulled the last line tight along the fence. The job done, he got the water jug out of the pickup and drank deeply.

It had been two days since he last saw Scotty. He had gone into town each morning, but both times the Pastor had said it was not the right time to see him. Something about not giving the devil a weakness to exploit.

From where he was, he could see both the farmhouse and the cemetery. As he looked from one to the other, a kaleidoscope of memories rolled over. The family having a barbecue down near the creek. His father grooming Wheezer out on the front porch, carefully picking out the cockleburrs. His mother working on a painting. Scotty off looking for arrowheads in the newly plowed field across the road. His father asking where Scotty had gone.

Josh threw the jug on the seat and climbed in the pickup. The dust blew up behind him all the way into town. He was still wearing his work gloves when he reached the church. Deacon Evans was sitting outside the room.

“I’ve come to see Scotty.”

“Now Josh …” Evans stood up, shaking his head. “… you know the Pastor said you couldn’ … “

Josh ignored him and started for the door. When the deacon tried to stop him, Josh shoved past him, causing him to fall over the chair.

Scotty looked bad. Dark grey crescents hung under his eyes, which seemed drawn back in his head. His lips were cracked. The room, bare now except for the chairs, smelled of sweat.

“You’re coming home,” Josh said. He started to lift his brother up but stopped when Scotty cried out in pain. “What’s wrong?”

“My shoulder.” The voice was dry and rasping. “My arm got twisted around and it hurts.”

“Can you walk?” Josh looked out in the hallway but the deacon was gone. “We gotta get out of here.”

Scotty looked up from where he was sitting. He had to swallow a couple of times before he was able to speak.

“No, Josh. I can’t. I gotta stay here.”

“What?” Josh’s heart was beating fast, and the seconds seemed to drag by. “Why??”

“I … I wanna be cured. I want this devil out of me.” The boy began to sob. “I don’t want to hurt anyone anymore.”

Josh opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He raised his hands in a helpless gesture, struggling to find the words.

“What are you talking about?” he asked finally. “You’ve never hurt anyone in your entire life.”

“Yes, I have!” Scotty cried. “It’s this devil that’s in me. I’m the reason it doesn’t rain anymore. I’m the reason the peanut mill closed. I’m the reason all those people are getting cancer.” He struck his fist weakly on his leg. “It’s me. It’s me. It’s me.”

Suddenly there were voices and footsteps coming up the hall. Josh thought frantically but the men reached the room before he could act. A moment later, he was dragged back into the hall and held before Pastor Roberts.

“Brother Josh, you are not to come here again,” the Pastor said softly. His face was oddly sympathetic. “I know you are worried about your brother. But the devil is using you as his instrument.” He reached out and put his arm on Josh’s shoulder. “Scotty needs you to be strong. And that means letting us fight this devil to the finish. We must
all
be strong. Our faith is our only defense. Doubt is the way to destruction.” Josh shook his head in disbelief. The arms holding him drew tighter, but he made no effort to break free.

“Pastor, I don’t know what to believe anymore. But Scotty’s no more got a devil in him than you do.” He looked around at men he had known all his life, men who had been his father’s friends. “I know he acts funny, but what has he ever done? To any of you? To anyone? What has he ever done?”

The Pastor gazed at Josh sadly.

“I’m sorry, Brother Josh, but your faith isn’t strong enough to resist the devil’s tricks. And we can’t allow your weakness to stop us from saving your brother.”

“There’s no devil!” Josh shouted as he was dragged outside. “Do you hear me, Scotty? There’s no devil!”

“H
ey, kid!  Wake up!”

Josh looked up and saw Mr. Brodie bending over him. Brodie had been Morgan’s peace officer until the town had to lay him off. Now he was the volunteer peace officer.

“What is it?” Josh asked. He tried to sit up. It was difficult with his hands handcuffed around the support beam. Morgan couldn’t afford a jail, so they had used the back room in Higgenbotham’s hardware store.

“You’re free to go,” Brodie said as he unlocked the cuffs. “What about the charges?”