HEX (33 page)

He had been moderately optimistic … until the phone call this afternoon from the Council, that is.

The crowd choked the corridors all the way to the back of Memorial Hall and blocked the entrances for those who were still waiting in the cloakroom. Steve, Jocelyn, and Tyler joined the people standing to the left of the rows of folding chairs, but as soon as the ubiquitous guards caught sight of them they were directed to the second row, where seats had been reserved for them next to the VanderMeers. As they made their way through the knots of townsfolk, Steve felt their eyes upon them. Each grim face was marked with fear or rage.

“What a pathetic sight, huh?” Pete said with a smile after they had taken their places.

Steve was shocked. “It's way too crowded here. If panic breaks out people will be trampled to death.”

“I'm afraid they're deliberately cranking up the turmoil. Did you see that?” He pointed to the stage. Hanging behind the podium and the placard reading:
LET US TRUST IN GOD AND EACH OTHER
was a large flat-screen. Steve felt the blood drain from his face. The idiots were going to use the video images to cause a riot.

“They're not going to bring in those boys, I hope. If they do, they're leading them like lambs to the slaughter.”

“If they do, we're in deep shit,” Pete said. “If they don't, we'll still be in deep shit.”

There was some commotion in the back of the hall. People were stumbling over the last rows of seats and shouting, pushed forward by the surging masses behind them. The guards raced forward to clear away a quarter of the last rows in order to create more standing room. With increasing concern, Steve noticed that the emergency exits were already blocked. Even on the balcony people were gathering in flocks.

“Let the elderly sit down, folks!” someone shouted. “Offer your seats, act like good Americans!”

When the Council entered in close formation and sat down behind the podium—six of them, Steven noted; the woman from the butcher shop was missing—the buzzing finally died down. Suddenly it was so improbably quiet that not a footstep, rustle, or cough could be heard. It was as if everyone was holding their breath in expectation of what was to come.

Colton Mathers took the floor without any opening words by the mayor. His voice was deep, commanding, and unapproachably calm. The resonance carried through the silence like waves on dark water. “‘Give me thy judgments, O God, and I shall judge thy people with righteousness, and thy poor with judgment, and shall break in pieces the oppressor.' Psalm 72. My dear fellow townspeople, we have come together this evening to pass judgment concerning an appalling crime and a blasphemous mockery that affects us all: the stoning of Katherine van Wyler this past Thursday, November 8, by the young gentlemen Jaydon Holst, Justin Walker, and Burak Şayer, concluding in the subsequent death of our most beloved Rita Marmell. God rest her soul.”

Of course everyone had heard the rumors, but now that the word was out, a sigh of fury and disgust rolled through the audience, and for a moment everyone shared in the common dismay: believer and infidel, man and woman, old and young.

Adrian Chass, a Council member whose lack of good taste in clothes was exceeded only by his lack of spine, cleared his throat and began reading from a sheet of paper, with less than half of Mathers's charisma. “Ladies and gentlemen, Mrs. Marmell lost her life as the result of a fatal intracerebral hematoma of the brain at exactly the same time as the stoning, bearing indisputable similarities to the incidents of '67, when one of the stitches in Katherine's mouth was removed.” He coughed. “The implications of the irresponsible and heinous acts perpetrated by these young men are enormous and could have happened to any one of us. You probably noticed that I am speaking in terms of perpetrators, not of suspects. I am doing so on the basis of the conclusive evidence that we are now about to show you to persuade you of the barbarity of this crime.”

Steve saw Robert Grim shut his eyes on stage, and his admiration for the security officer rose. Grim had been against it—against the whole damn procedure, probably.

The flat-screen suddenly showed the familiar woods behind his house and what had happened there a few days ago. Sitting beside him, Tyler dropped his chin to his chest and shuddered convulsively. Steve wished the boy could have been spared this moment, but Tyler was being forced to experience the whole thing all over again: the taunting of the witch with sticks, the fight in which Lawrence was wounded, the cries of despair, and the wet thuds of the rocks bouncing off bewitched flesh. Steve squeezed Tyler's hand, but the tears had already filled his eyes. Jocelyn, who had refused to see the images until now, clapped her hands to her mouth.

Then the screen went black, and the townsfolk lost it. The idea of the stoning was bad enough, but actually seeing it with their own eyes ignited their blind rage like burning phosphorus. Jaws dropped. Dire cries went up. People burst into tears. “Where are those murderers?” someone yelled. “Every one of us could have died!” screamed another. “We'll get them!” yet another howled. The screamer laughed, a manic, whinnying laugh, as if he didn't quite believe the seriousness of what he was saying; but then his scream resounded as one furious, vindictive shout: “Get them!” People in the back of the hall swarmed forward and fell over one another, as if all were under the illusion that the suspects themselves were being presented on stage. And had that been true, Steve didn't doubt for a minute that they would have been lynched on the spot. Chairs fell over, clothing was torn, people lay on the ground, ankles and wrists were sprained. The guards had a great deal of difficulty keeping everyone under control.

“Stay calm!” the voice of the mayor boomed through the speakers. “Please, folks, just stay calm!”

“Steve, are we safe here?” Jocelyn asked, looking at the chaos behind them with clenched fists.

“I guess so, at least for now.” The uproar was too far back and too many people had stood up to keep the mob in check. The mayor continued trying to calm everyone down, but Steve saw Colton Mathers look over the crowd—
his
crowd, Steve thought—with a triumphant gleam in his eyes. Of course, the old councilman had known this was going to happen all along.

Finally things settled down and the medics were able to move a number of injured people out. Then Adrian Chass took the floor again, although his voice was drowned out by the din of the crowd. “Your outrage is understandable, folks, but please stay calm. Mr. Grim and his fellow staff members have assured us that the incident has not had any further impact on Katherine's patterns. We all know she doesn't change her behavior without reason…”

“What about the creek, then?” someone shouted from the middle of the hall. Many applauded him.

“We've now found an explanation for that,” Chass said. “Unfortunately, the stoning is not the first crime that Mr. Holst has recently committed. There are several witnesses who testify that one week earlier he disgraced Katherine by tearing her clothing apart and exposing her breast, after which he stabbed her with a knife and sicced a dog on her. It was the Grant family dog, and, as you probably know, the direct contact caused the animal's death.”

Once again there was an outburst of rage, and Steve realized that the dangerous, sultry atmosphere in Memorial Hall was beginning to look more and more like a primitive popular tribunal. Someone raised a rallying cry, and soon the masses took it over like a rioting street mob: “Bring 'em in, bring 'em in, bring 'em in!” Steve understood that they were on the edge; it wouldn't take much to make the overwrought populace snap, and for the first time he saw undisguised fear in the eyes of Pete VanderMeer.

Chass tried to make himself heard above the noise but was barely successful. “The perpetrators have been arrested and are now in custody, ladies and gentlemen. What we would now like to do … Ladies and gentlemen, please calm down. What we would now like to do is to take a moment to acknowledge two brave young men, Tyler Grant and Lawrence VanderMeer. As you have all observed, they did everything in their power to prevent their peers from carrying out their acts of savagery, and despite the undoubtedly enormous pressure they went to their parents with the incriminating material. We call on each and every one of you to follow their admirable example and not withhold any breaches of the public order. Tyler and Lawrence, please stand up.”

Tyler flinched and looked at Steve. All Steve could do was nod and urge him to stand.
Humor them, son, just for now,
he thought. He couldn't say how intensely relieved he was. The boys' presence was purely ceremonial. Painful for them, but without consequences.

Reluctantly, Lawrence and Tyler rose to their feet and looked around, utterly miserable, while loud cheering and applause broke out all around. Tyler nodded quickly and dropped to his seat as soon as he could.

“Well done,” Steve whispered, but Tyler turned his eyes away.

“All right,” Colton Mathers said. “Since the question of guilt is not an issue and the perpetrators have confessed, I as prosecutor will move right on to the sentencing—”

“Let's throw stones at 'em till they're dead!” someone roared, and he was answered with shouts of approval—of course they wouldn't
really
do such a thing, because, after all, they were civilized people.

“—and as we are accustomed to doing, this case will be dealt with legally according to the laws of the Black Spring Emergency Decree as drawn up by our forefathers in 1848. Ladies and gentlemen, by committing this act, Holst, Walker, and Şayer, the very dregs of our society, knowingly jeopardized the lives of every one of us. They were born and bred in Black Spring and are fully aware of the laws
and
the dangers concerning the mocking of the witch. Investigation reveals that each of them was fully compos mentis, including Walker and Şayer, who are minors. May it be ever clear that such extraordinarily pernicious behavior will not be tolerated in our community and deserves extraordinary treatment. But, fellow townspeople, they are not the only ones who have violated the Emergency Decree in the past few weeks.” Bewildered glances, tense silence. Mathers, trembling with rage, continued with his litany: “There are those among you who have begun to associate with the witch. There are those among you who have sought her out. There are those among you who have brought her blasphemous offerings, and there are those among you who have spoken to her. To all those concerned, I have but one thing to say:
You … are … endangering … all of us!
You are
not
to associate with the witch! We are damned! You know the Emergency Decree and you know what doom awaits us if Katherine opens her eyes! Damned, people, damned!”

Steve listened to the councilman's sermon in a state of near hypnosis and again he felt the strange magnetism that the man exuded. Mathers was like a preacher of hellfire and brimstone who called down terror from the pulpit, and it had its effect: Steve realized he was afraid, just senselessly afraid.

Mathers continued: “Those acts will be met with uncommonly harsh measures. What we need is a deterrent. Yet none of your crimes are as reprehensible as endangering the entire town, which is what these boys have done with their disgraceful treatment of the witch. According to the laws of the Emergency Decree, such behavior shall be punished with a public flogging, to be witnessed as an example by the entire community.” A collective wave of dismay … and, oh yes, of instinctive, bestial excitement. Robert Grim stared at the councilman in disbelief. A terrible, heartrending cry rose up from Mrs. Şayer, but Mathers thundered right through it: “So this is my sentence: Mr. Justin Walker and Mr. Burak Şayer will be brought to the town square within forty-eight hours to each publicly receive ten lashes with the cat-o'-nine-tails on their bare skin, as tradition prescribes. Mr. Jaydon Holst, because of his twofold crime and because he has reached the age of majority, will be brought to the town square within forty-eight hours to receive twenty lashes with the cat-o'-nine-tails on his bare skin, as tradition prescribes. This is to be followed by three full weeks at the Doodletown detention center for all three of them, after which the delinquents will be allowed to reenter society under close supervision and with the proper psychological guidance.”

If Robert Grim had not jumped up to the podium at that moment, the chaos caused by this new, explosive mixture of powerless rage and suppressed tension would probably have reached incalculable proportions. But that's exactly what Grim did; with outstretched hands he strode across the stage. “No, no, no! This is wrong—this is not what we agreed to, Colton. What the hell are you getting us into?”

“This is our law, Grim!” The councilman held the rolled-up Emergency Decree like a rod in his hand and waved it back and forth. “Yes, it may be strange in our day and age, but what can we do? We must hold these boys up as an example.”

“But not like this!” Grim shouted, and he turned to the audience. “People, we're not barbarians, are we? Use your common sense, folks. This is no Sharia. We can deal with this in a decent manner. We'll come up with an appropriate alternative, with the aid of The Point.”

Scornful laughter from the crowd, which Mathers gratefully made use of. “West Point doesn't know what it's like to live with a witch's curse. West Point is powerless in the face of evil. We are living under a bell jar, and we can only fall back on the good Lord … and on each other.” He opened his arms wide, as if he were Jesus himself. “In Black Spring we take care of our own, under the eye of the Almighty God.”

“Does God want us to beat up our children?”

Mathers's Adam's apple bobbed up and down convulsively. “He that spareth his rod hateth his son!”

“This is a kangaroo court!”