Fading Light: An Anthology of the Monstrous: Tim Marquitz (34 page)

“She needs stitches, now. Annie, get me the first aid kit. If
we’re quick, she’ll live.”

Cassie managed a wan smile before—

Jeb smiled back. “It’s a boy.”

“I know.”

—blessedly going unconscious.

Later, stitched, clean, and awake, Cassie cradled her baby and
squeezed the hand of her husband, who was standing beside the bed.
She motioned for Annie.

The young girl crawled on the bed and Cassie wrapped an arm around
her. Annie reached to stroke the baby’s cheek with a finger.
Then she turned, took the Bible from the table beside the bed, and
opened it. Her small finger pointed to the name Uriah.

Jeb nodded. “My light is Yah.”

“I guess we have a name for him.” Sarah said.

Cassie smiled.

Jeb stared at his family and wondered what in the hell had happened.

Days passed and Cassie regained her strength. The baby was a quiet
little fellow, and soon they were all settled into a comfortable
routine. And though Annie rode fences with Jeb again, she spent as
much time as possible staring at Uriah.

A few days after the birth, Annie brought Jeb the Bible and pointed
to a passage:

Isaiah 29:7

The multitude of all the nations that fight against Ariel, even
all who fight against her and her stronghold, and who distress her,
will be like a dream, a vision of the night.

“Is that your name? Ariel?”

Annie nodded and hugged him. Jeb couldn’t help but think the
name fitting. She had been a lion of God.

The nights had turned cold again and they’d gathered around the
fireplace after supper. Jeb read to them from the Bible, while Sarah
and Cassie sewed. Ariel and the baby lay on a quilt.

A resounding knock on the door split the quiet. Jeb sprang from his
chair and hurried to the hall. He was determined to be more careful
this time and had barely cracked the door when Ariel rushed past him
onto the porch and flung herself at the man standing there.

“Ariel,” Jeb cried, attempting to grab a handful of shirt
as she rushed past.

“It’s all right.” The man laughed. “She knows
me.”

Ariel grabbed the man’s hand and nearly knocked Jeb over
bringing him inside. Jeb started to protest, but stopped. The girl
had proven herself to be a better judge of character than he. Sarah
came into the kitchen and put the kettle on. Ariel got out mugs and
placed them on the table, before going to stand at the stranger’s
side.

Cassie came in from the living room, cradling Uriah in her arms. Once
again, Jeb was struck with wonder at his beautiful son. The baby,
like Ariel, seemed to glow from the inside.

“Who are you?”

“Father Tom. I imagine you’ve some questions, and I have
a few answers, but what I’m about to tell you may sound
strange.”

Jeb glanced at his mother, wife, and Ariel. “We’re pretty
familiar with strange around here.”

“Two years before the darkness fell, a prophecy was found in an
ancient text dating from before the birth of Jesus. It stated there’d
come a time when God would tire of His creation and take away His
greatest gift—the light.”

“The clouds,” Cassie whispered.

“Just so,” Father Tom continued. “The world would
be plunged into darkness. Satan would have his chance to take what
souls he could, but those who stayed the course of good and right
would be rewarded. If enough souls were to keep true, the light would
be returned.”

Sarah stepped forward. “How long do they have to keep true?
Seems to me we’re being set up to fail.”

Father Tom nodded. “The odds would appear to be stacked in
Satan’s favor. The prophecy continues to say there will be
twelve children born in the darkness who would be bearers of light.
And if those children reached the age of twelve, the light would be
restored.” He smiled at Jeb. “You have a light bearer.”

Jeb stared at his son.

“That’s why the servant of darkness was in your house.
Satan’s minions will stop at nothing to see the bringers of
light brought down.”

“But what about Ariel? She’s no normal child. I mean, the
way she went after that thing … ”

Father Tom smiled at Ariel. “The prophecy also foretold of
children being born in the last decade before the dark, special
children, who would guard the light bringers. Guardians born with
special markings.”

“The tattoos,” Sarah said.

“Unfortunately, they are also born unable to speak.”

“So is this the end of it, or are they going to continue to
come after my baby?” Cassie asked.

“I’m afraid this is nowhere near the end. Your task is a
hard one … which is why I’ve decided to leave Ariel with
you. She can teach you the things you need to know. The bond she has
with the baby is a strong one, and she would give her life for his in
an instant.”

Father Tom stayed only one more day. As he took his leave, Jeb walked
him to the door.

“You’re a good man, Jeb. Faithful. Your faith will be
tested many times before this is through. Keep the faith. Don’t
let doubt and fear creep into your heart.”

“No, Father, I won’t.” Jeb watched the man
disappear into the timber and shivered. He remembered his dream from
the night before. One not dissimilar from some in the past.

Bad things were on the way.

The first hard freeze hit the valley just after fall harvest,
initiating the painting of the leaves of the great highland forests
of beech, ash, and maple with brilliant autumn splashes of color,
including mottled ambers, deep burgundies, glistening golds, and rich
chocolates. But more uniquely, the cold snap had also triggered the
first stage of the human changes. Then, three days of constant snow,
as farmers and ranchers in the outlying regions of the valley packed
up sleighs, horse-drawn wagons, mules, and backpacks for the trek
into the Village for the Autumn Lottery and Ceremonies. Most had
arrived by early Sunday afternoon, the majority staying with
relatives or friends in town, a hardy couple camping in the Village
Park, and several able to afford nice rooms in the hotel across from
the Park.

All day Monday, as required by long term tradition and law, most of
the eligible women—from the Village and the outlying farms
and ranches too—registered at the Community Hall. One of the
Village Elders separated little blue cards with the large numbers
carefully printed in glossy black on both sections, giving one to the
female recipient and the other to an Elder, who stored the duplicate
in a black strongbox; a third Elder carefully recorded and checked
names off the valley master roll. By early Tuesday afternoon, even
the last of the female stragglers was accounted for, the master roll
completely checked off—forty-four cards handed out this year,
recipients ranging in age from Danika, a horse rancher’s
daughter, who had just celebrated her 18
^th
birthday three
days ago, to Mrs. LeDoux, the Village librarian, who was still a day
short of the upper limit of 50.

The snowy weather had completely cleared by Wednesday afternoon, but
there was a solemn wariness palpable in the chilly foggy air hanging
over the village like a fallen thick cloud—the pale sun
unable to warm and penetrate the misty shroud of tension. Only a
handful of the most active children ventured outside to play in the
afternoon icy snow. Main Street businesses had been closed since much
earlier in the day, the streets virtually empty by suppertime.

Then, after nightfall, the entire village, every man, woman, and
child had made their way down and assembled at the Community Hall,
taking their places on the cold folding chairs. Marek and Krasna had
found two seats on the end of the last row. The crowd all looked up
respectively at the sober-faced five Village Elders sitting stiffly
in their store-bought black suits and evenly spaced along a fold-up
table bearing only the locked strongbox and a gavel. Even the
youngest baby lay quietly in her mother’s arms, all the older
children equally subdued, perhaps sensing, even if they didn’t
understand, the serious nature of the event. As the minutes ticked
by, the crowded room remained eerily quiet as the last folks finally
settled in; husbands and boyfriends naturally clutching their
eligible
loved one’s hands tightly in their sweaty grips—most every adult remained on edge.

At 8:00 p.m., as prescribed by custom, the Head Elder rapped his
gavel and said simply: “It is time to make our Autumn Lottery
selection.” He turned to the Elder seated in front of the
strongbox, who had been picked earlier in a private draw: “Lev?”

Lev nodded, his expression etched deeply with the responsibility he
bore, took out a key, and unlocked the strongbox. Then, he reached
in, and withdrew one of the printed cards. Without looking at the
number he handed the card to the Head Elder.

The audience held its collective breath, as the Head Elder read the
number and announced in a hoarse voice: “Thirty-five.”

For a moment no one moved, or even dared to look about to see who had
been picked.

Then:
Oh, God, no!
Marek cried silently from where he sat on
the edge of his seat. It was Krasna’s number. His darling. He
was too dumbfounded to speak, couldn’t even face his
sweetheart, who hadn’t moved a muscle, sitting stiffly beside
him.

She knew.

A few moments ticked by. Then, after carefully consulting the master
roll, the Head Elder cleared his throat and explained: “The
Lottery pick this year, number thirty-five, belongs to Krasna.”

Muffled murmuring … followed a moment later by louder talk.

A few in the crowd ventured to turn and look around, their gazes
searching out where Marek and Krasna sat in the last row.

But the two continued to sit in silence, looking forward as if
entranced, as the seated crowd finally began to slowly arise from
their seats and slip by on their way out of the Hall, most averting
their eyes away from Marek and Krasna.
All
of the eligible
women and their men no doubt sighing quietly with a guilty sense of
tremendous relief—

But little Willie stopped and gently patted Krasna’s shoulder,
before his father jerked him along with the rest of the family—they had been next door neighbors to her family, and Krasna had often
babysat Willie when he was younger.

Still stunned, Marek finally shook his head: It isn’t fair, no,
no, no. We are so young, strong, and just beginning. Why couldn’t
it have been one of the older women, someone who had raised a family,
or even one of the younger widows? Or perhaps Mrs. LeDoux—she’d lived a full life,
never selected in all these years of Lottery eligibility. But no, it’s my Krasna, she’s only
twenty-two. My sweet, lovely bride. His eyes were blurry—

“Marek?”

It was another husky logger, his friend, Janos, standing beside him,
clutching his shoulder, a sympathetic look on his face. He nodded,
smiled thinly, and said, “It’s time to take Krasna to the
MedCenter.”

Marek whispered under his breath, “I know,” and stood up,
but immediately reached down on the chair for support, weak-kneed.

As prescribed by tradition, it was Marek’s sole responsibility
to ensure his young wife went to the MedCenter for the necessary
female treatment, which would finish preparing her for the upcoming
Transformation.

With an effort, he helped Krasna up, and led her away from the
Community Hall and down Main Street to the MedCenter three blocks
away. She said nothing, and only once brushed a tear from her cheek.

Krasna was a brave girl. He was proud of her.

Two hours later, after the procedure was completed, Marek guided his
red-haired beauty home to their modest cottage on the northern
outskirts of the Village proper.

Only then did she look at him and with absolutely no irony in her
voice, she whispered, “Regardless of whatever happens tomorrow,
I love you.”

Hoarsely, he replied, “And I you, my darling.”

They kissed passionately.

Inside, after the stove was properly stoked up, but before the cold
room was warmed much, they shrugged off their winter wear, all their
clothes—even their underwear—staring lustfully at
each other’s youthful nakedness, panting geysers of moist steam
from their noses and open mouths.

They clutched each other fiercely.

Then, they fell together on the floor, and made love.

Gasping, kissing wetly, clawing, snipping, sticky thumping, grunting,
bruising, biting and even drawing blood. Copulating with little
tenderness, and moaning fiercely. Breathless, wicked, wild, and
violent love, like two animals in heat encountering up in the nearby
forests. They were warm now. But still it went on and on dryly with a
frantic edge, almost as if it were their last opportunity to ever
make love to each other again—

And it was that.

They came for Krasna in the early hours after midnight, long before
sunrise; and they took her off to the Stockade to ensure her safety
during the final stages of the Transformation.

Of course that was the last time Marek was allowed to see Krasna in
her normal state. At the door of the cottage, she lingered in his
arms; and he wiped the tiny tears from her cheeks, whispering his
eternal love for her; the two now kissing ever so tenderly —

They finally pulled the lovers apart.

Clutched in her keepers’ arms, she shouted back over her
shoulder as they drug her away, “I’ll love you forever,
Marek. No matter what.”

All he could manage was a wave at her back, too choked up to even
speak.

As was customary, and despite his unsettled grieving feelings, Marek
took the sedatives; and he was finally able to nap through the entire
late afternoon. He knew it was best for him, because it was important
to maintain his strength. Tonight would be an extremely difficult
physical, mental, and emotional time.