Something Bad (43 page)

The organ music brought his full attention back to the church, and a single drop of perspiration released from his forehead and streamed to the bridge of his nose. He yawned, bowed his head, wiped the drip, and looked around to see if anyone noticed. The church was full, everyone’s eyes were on Reverend Sather.

Gabe noticed a familiar, small figure slip into the church and stand in the back, along the wall to the right.

Reverend Sather walked to the baptismal fount, on the extreme right of the altar, and invited Gabe, Deena Lee, Cory Dean, and Cory Dean’s godparents, Teddy and Rachel Rosewald, to join him. They surrounded the fount in a semi-circle, facing the congregation.

Gabe looked to the back of the church. Thibideaux slowly paced back-and-forth, three shuffling steps in each direction. His hands hung straight at his sides, but his fingers were in constant motion, flexing and extending in unison. His gaze was fixed on the altar and had the intensity of a lioness in the final stalk of prey.

Reverend Sather took out a hymnal and addressed the congregation. “Please turn to hymn number thirty-six in your hymnal and join us in singing, “Jesus Loves Me.”

The congregation erupted in song, and Gabe looked back at Thibideaux again. The little man scanned the altar, and Gabe imagined him verifying the layout, planning his abduction.

At the conclusion of the song, Reverend Sather exchanged the hymnal for a Bible, and opened it to a page marked by a red ribbon. “Mark 10: 13-16 says, And they were bringing children to Him so that He might touch them; and the disciples rebuked them. But when Jesus saw this, He was indignant and said to them, ‘Permit the children to come to Me; do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. Truly I say to you whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter at all.’ And He took them in His arms and began blessing them, laying His hands upon them.”

With the reading of the scripture, Gabe felt a sense of clarity sweep over him. He was always uplifted by his worship, but this sensation was different. The feelings of insignificance and hopelessness were easing with the return of self-control. In contrast to the preceding church service, Gabe not only heard every word Reverend Sather said, he focused on them, savoring their meaning. In a way, this was more than a double-baptism. Gabe felt like he was being cleansed and re-dedicated as well.

Reverend Sather placed the Bible down on the fount and bowed his head. “Dearly beloved, the family is a divine institution ordained of God from the beginning of time. Children are a heritage of the Lord committed by Him to their parents for care, protection, and training in His glory. It is important that all parents recognize this sacred obligation and their responsibility to God in this matter.”

T
HIBIDEAUX LISTENED TO
the words of the Reverend, and he was struck by how they all made sense, as long as he substituted “the Organization” for every reference to “God” or “family.” Then, he broke his concentration on the ceremony and visually homed in on a statuette of John the Baptist placed in a small alcove above the baptismal fount. He mentally rehearsed his plan. He would create a small temblor throughout the church—just enough to steal the attention of the congregation and create a sense of confusion. The statuette would rock with the motion. As Deena Lee presented Cory Dean to Teddy and Rachel, the statuette would fall on Deena Lee, and the procurement would be on. He was ready to unleash the plan as soon as Cory Dean was clear of Deena Lee’s arms.

Reverend Sather looked up at the congregation and smiled. “These parents, recognizing the sacredness of their charge, now bring back to the Lord the treasure which He has entrusted to them. In so doing, they publicly acknowledge their responsibility for the nurture and admonition of this child in the ways of righteousness and godliness.”

Thibideaux’s hands twitched uncontrollably now, and he slightly hunched at the shoulders. He was pure sinew and muscle, ready to pounce on his prey. He felt the rush of adrenaline, and he relished it. He had memorized every part of the ceremony when he had attended Teddy Jr.’s baptism. It was time for his prize. His focus was jarred when Reverend Sather walked around to the center of the altar and addressed the congregation.

“Gabe and Deena Lee want to add to the joy of this special occasion by inviting members of the congregation to participate.”

Thibideaux took two steps toward the altar before he realized what he was doing. Something wasn’t right; there was no way he could do anything until he saw what the Reverend was going to do.

Reverend Sather continued. “Since this is a special event for the children, Gabe would like to invite the young children to participate in the ceremony. Would all of the children in the pre-school Sunday School class please come forward?”

Thibideaux felt a wave of panic sweep over his body. What was Gabe up to?

“And I would like to invite some of the older children up as well.”

As seven members of Mrs. Sather’s Sunday School class and six other children came forward, Gabe directed them to surround the fount, with Deena Lee, Cory Dean, and the Rosewalds within the circle. The three youngest children were positioned close to Deena Lee. As the circle formed, Reverend Sather entered it and proceeded with the ceremony.

Thibideaux’s lips curled into a snarl that revealed silver capped teeth. He scanned the altar, trying to salvage an attack that would achieve his goal but spare injury to any of the young children. He was distracted when Gabe instructed Deena Lee to kneel, with Cory Dean in her arms and pulled the children closer around her. As Thibideaux ran through possible modifications of his plan, Reverend Sather continued the ceremony, addressing the adults at the fount.

“As you bring Cory Dean Petersen here today to be baptized, do you solemnly promise before God and these witnesses that you will, with God’s help and guidance, undertake to bring this little one up in the sacred and holy faith, making use of all the help God has given you in the family, and in the church?”

Gabe, Deena Lee, Teddy, and Rachel answered in unison, “We do.”

Thibideaux pointed at the floor with his right hand and shook it slowly. The floor began to vibrate at a low frequency, below the limits of human hearing, so subtle several people fidgeted in their pews.

As Deena Lee handed Cory Dean to Rachel, who was now kneeling as well, a passage from his training reverberated in Thibideaux’s head: “Children under five years of age shall not be harmed.” He instinctively withdrew his hand to stop the temblor.

Reverend Sather dipped his hand into the baptismal water, and Thibideaux stomped his right foot on the floor hard enough to cause two people in the last pew to turn around and look. He pivoted on his heels and short-stepped toward the doors of the church. As he approached the doors, Reverend Sather’s word rang out loud, painfully, in his ears.

“Cory Dean Petersen, I baptize you in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, and commend you to God’s protection and to His saving and sanctifying grace.”

Thibideaux opened one of the doors and turned to look at Gabe. He expected to see a grin of victory. Instead, Gabe looked down at Cory Dean with tears streaming down his cheeks. Thibideaux didn’t wait for the duplication of the rite for Deena Lee. He had to remove himself from a potentially difficult situation. Once again, he wanted to kill—really, really wanted to kill. He looked back at Gabe. To kill him right then and there. A hint of a grin tugged at his scars. In time he would, but not right now. When he did, it would be doubly sweet.

Thibideaux was on the rectory porch when Reverend Sather’s words again rang in his ears.

“Ladies and gentlemen, it is my joy to introduce to you our newest members of God’s family, Cory Dean Petersen and Deena Lee Petersen.”

T
HE RECEPTION AT
the Herndon’s Edge was well attended, to the point of spilling into the parking lot. The green jello mold surrendered its entire bounty less than halfway through the party, and Teddy had to retreat to the kitchen to restock the food platters three times. It seemed as though all residents of the Tri-counties, save one, were in attendance.

Gabe was so overcome with joy he had trouble talking with anyone without getting emotional. He reflected on his happiness and attributed it to three things, in order of importance to him: he was deeply moved by the baptisms, he felt like an emotional weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and he had won the battle with Thibideaux. He had a feeling he would face the little man again, but for now, he had managed the sweetest victory of the war. Cory Dean was saved. All subsequent interactions would seem like minor skirmishes.

It was dark when Gabe, Wanna, Deena Lee and Cory Dean arrived home. Cory Dean was asleep in his car seat, next to Wanna, in the back seat of Deena Lee’s Volkswagen, and Gabe was wedged into the front seat. As they went inside, Gabe scanned the horizon. There wasn’t a wisp of fog as far as he could see in the dark.

With everyone preparing for bed, Gabe slipped into the kitchen to load the coffee pot for an early morning start-up. As he had done on Sunday evenings for the past several months, he took Wanna’s pillbox and reached for the vitamin containers. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the familiar churn of a fog-in-motion against the kitchen window. But this fog didn’t have the same “feel” as the previous ones. It didn’t seem threatening. He couldn’t quite place the feeling. It was something like inquisitiveness.

He opened a bottle and placed one large pill in each of the seven chambers of Wanna’s weekly pill dispenser. He picked up a disk and started to punch out one of the small pills, but stopped. Have to do it now, he thought, and slipped the circular pill card into his jacket pocket. He closed the seven lids of the pill dispenser and put it next to the coffee machine, where Wanna would see it first thing in the morning.

The evening was the most placid one in weeks in the Petersen household—even Cory Dean seemed to put aside the colic to cuddle up to Deena Lee’s chin and coo the evening away.

Gabe was in bed before eight-thirty, and he immediately fell into a deep sleep and into the land of dreams. But this time, his nocturnal fears weren’t realized. His dream was of a brightly lit day with Wanna, Deena Lee, and Cory Dean sitting on a large blanket in the middle of a green meadow. Cory Dean was older, walking with outstretched arms and a clumsy, shuffling gait. A lavish picnic spread tempted everyone, including the local ant population. Everyone was happy, especially Gabe. There was only one troubling aspect to this dream. A small individual hovered in the distance. Only its outline was visible, and even that was partially obscured. The small being seemed to be carrying on some form of subliminal communication with Cory Dean, who responded with riffs of toddler giggles.

Gabe tried to move toward the being, but it managed to stay just out of sight—close enough to be noticeable, but far enough to defy contact. Despite the apparition, Gabe subdued any feeling of threat from the being. He decided to let Cory Dean have his fun, but keep an eye on him nonetheless.

His next dream wasn’t so pleasing. He was in his truck, but he wasn’t in control. It turned when it wanted to turn, ignoring his attempts to steer. All three pedals were locked. He turned the key to the off position, but the truck ran on. And the door handle wouldn’t budge. He tried to crank the window down, but the lever turned without engaging the window. The path of the truck was a familiar one. It led to the rectory.

The truck stopped in front of the rectory porch and the driver’s side door flew open. Gabe felt a pull on his body. He tried to resist, but he was powerless. Up the steps, through the double doors, and into the great room. He moved effortlessly, but without intent. Thibideaux stood beside his chair, staring at Gabe. And there was someone else there, in the shadows.

He drifted off.

G
ABE STIRRED AND
bright light filtered through his closed eyelids. He was glad it was morning. He turned, but something wasn’t right. This wasn’t his bed. It was a hard surface, the floor, and he was dressed, with shoes and jacket. Was he still dreaming?

Pushing on the floor, he propped himself up on his left elbow and a clearing image brought a shudder. Immediately in front of him was a fireplace, surrounded by a bare room. The rectory. He pushed harder, to a sitting position, and rubbed his eyes. Pain shot through his left knee. Not a dream. He turned his head and nearly toppled over.