The Fourth Trumpet (16 page)

Fact one: they were running out of supplies.

Fact two: the one thing Andrea dreaded more than anything was the thought of being in total darkness. They needed light. A kerosene lantern would be wonderful; a Coleman lantern that ran on batteries would be even better.

But they didn’t have either one. Too bad they hadn’t thought to bring back Fr. Joe’s lantern. No way they should go looking for it now.

A cracking sound snagged Andrea’s attention back to the cloying night and her vigil. She tensed, waiting to hear it again. About to yell Keith’s name, two dark forms suddenly materialized out of the Nothingness. They were back. They were safe. The tension drained from her body, leaving her limp.

“Oh, Keith. Keith, you made it.” Her voice was breathy.

“Yeah, we made it. Didn’t see or hear a thing.”

Richard set his full bucket on the porch and entered the house without even a glance her way. Andrea looked at Keith and rolled her eyes. “Did he say
anything
while you were at the creek?”

“Just one sentence. ‘Give me the damn bucket.’ He filled both while I held the light. That was it.”

“I was so worried he might try something. I didn’t want him to go with you. I wanted him to do it alone. You’ve done it alone before.”

Keith set his bucket beside the other then put his arms around her. “Well, it’s over and done and nothing happened. Let’s sit here for a while. Okay?”

“Okay. You really didn’t hear or see anything?”

“Nope. The woods were quiet. The only thing we heard was the gurgling brook.”

“Are the
things
gone?”

“I don’t know, honey. All I know is we didn’t see them. Or hear them.”

Andrea scrunched up her face. “Oh, God. Remember the snarls and cries we heard at the beginning of this nightmare? One night—before you came—they kept me awake for hours. I remember thinking it sounded like tormented souls or people dying. It was awful. Horrible. Like a low-budget horror flick.” She shuddered.

“I remember. I remember that night I helped Carrie walk the two miles here. Man, I thought we were goners. Knew we’d never make it. The poor girl was ready to collapse. I was torn between staying put or finding someone. Don’t see how we did it, if you want the truth. Kind of a miracle.”

“Yeah. There isn’t much between your development and us. Highway W is pretty lonely. Just Kellermann’s pastures and the Schultz farm and a few houses like ours.” Andrea sighed. “My aunt and uncle loved being so isolated and-and free.” She closed her eyes and leaned against Keith’s shoulder. His hand caressed the back of her neck. She wanted to melt into his arms, fall asleep and wake to sunshine and normalcy. She wanted to phone her best friend back in Charleston and tell her she was getting married. She wanted a bridal shower, go dress shopping, plan a wedding. Another tremor ran down her spine.

“You cold, honey?”

“No.”

“You’re shivering.”

“I know. Keith?”

“Yes?”

“We’re almost out of candles. And we’re getting low on food.”

“I wondered about the candle situation, was going to check it out.”

“What are we going to do? We’ve only been to the Martins’ place, and we’ve pretty much cleaned them out. How about the Kellermanns? For all we know, someone may be there, hiding out like we are.”

“Could be, I guess, though Carrie and I knocked on the four houses between here and our subdivision. No one home. Every house was swathed in a blanket of that weird inky smoke. Except yours. Your house had a light showing through the window.”

“That’s what Eleazar said,” Andrea murmured. “I didn’t see how he could’ve seen any light. I only lit one candle at a time. And the fireplace.”

“I guess it’s all relative. You know? In this kind of darkness, a single match’s flame can be blinding.”

“So weird.”

“Yeah.”

Andrea sighed. “I hate this. I want it to end.”

Keith gathered her into his arms and held her close. “I know, honey. I know.” He kissed her nose, both closed eyes, ears and chin, then lingered on her mouth. Andrea was melting in his embrace when he suddenly released her. “Okay. Gotta go.”

“Go? Go where?”

“On a foraging trip. I spied a backpack in the hall closet. I’ll take that and hope if I find a supply of stuff we need that there’s a wheelbarrow or something handy.”

“What? Now? You can’t!”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s-it’s late.”

Keith grinned and tweaked her nose. “How do you know it’s late? For all you know, it might be in the early morning.”

Andrea wasn’t amused. “Keith, stop it. You know what I mean. It’s too dark for you to go anywhere.”

“We did it before. We’ve gone to the Martins’ place several times.”

“I-I know. But, they’re just down the road. The Kellermanns are all the way around the bend. A mile away.”

“I can cut through the pasture.”

“They have a bull. You can’t go through the pasture. That bull would tear you to pieces.” She gripped both his hands and hung on like a vice. “Besides, there’re the
things
. Those creatures might appear at any time. Just because you didn’t see them by the creek, doesn’t mean they aren’t out there, waiting. And-and we don’t know what killed the Martins. Whatever got them could get
you.
Please, Keith. Be reasonable.”

“Honey, I am being reasonable. We need the supplies. I have to try.”

“No! Make Richard go. He hasn’t done anything! He’s expendable. It won’t matter if something gets
him.
”

“Shhh, Andrea. Calm down. You’re just working yourself up into a frenzy, and it’s not good for you. Carrie is bad enough. I need
you
to stay sensible.”

“But—”

“Shhh. I understand where you’re coming from. Really. I do. And I’m flattered you care that much about me.”

“Keith. I
love
you.”

“I know. And I love you, too. That’s why I have to do this. No point sitting around, debating the pros and cons. I have no choice. We need to survive and we need supplies to do so. Right?”

Andrea stared at him with eyes brimming with tears. She didn’t speak, only nodded. Her heart was lodged somewhere in her throat.

Keith hugged her tightly then stood. “Okay. I’ll get some stuff together then go. Come inside, honey.”

Andrea made no protest when he pulled her up and led her into the house. They found the others in the living room, huddled around the fire. Thor was fast asleep on the rug.

“Hey, guys. I’m going to make a foraging trip, see if I can find some supplies at one of the farm houses down the road.”

Carrie, eyes wide with fright, burrowed deeper into the folds of her blanket and moaned. Richard ducked his head between his legs. Eleazar rose from his recliner. “I will go with you, son.”

“No. I’d rather you stayed here and, well, took care of things,” Keith said, eyes locked on the old preacher’s.

Eleazar nodded and eased back into the chair. “Yes. You are right. An old man would be a hindrance instead of a help.”

Andrea glanced at Richard, but the punk didn’t raise his head or speak. She felt like marching over to his corner, dragging him up off of the floor and throttling him. She was angry enough to scream but managed to keep her ire in check. It wasn’t easy.

“Okay. I’m taking this pack and a flashlight. Keep a light in the window so I can find my way back.” Keith laughed but it sounded harsh. Andrea winced. “Don’t wait up for me,” he added.

Andrea threw herself into his arms and held him tightly. “Please. Please come back. Don’t get killed. Please, don’t get killed.”

Keith kissed her, nodded to Eleazar, then opened the front door. “Okay. Be good, you guys. Take care of my girl, Eleazar.” He looked at Andrea and smiled. “I’ll be back before you know it. With candles. And batteries. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Two minutes later, he dove into the dark pool that threatened to drown them and disappeared.

Andrea collapsed on the porch, buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

TWENTY-ONE

After she’d had her cry on the front porch, Andrea joined the others by the fire. Eleazar was reading aloud from his tattered old Bible, and she settled down in one of the recliners to listen. The old man’s smooth-as-honey voice droned on, making her eyelids heavy. Until one passage—somewhere in the Book of Revelation—snagged her attention and wrapped her in a web of morbid contemplation.

“‘And the fourth angel sounded the trumpet, and the third part of the sun was smitten, and the third of the moon, and the third part of the stars, that the third part of them might be darkened, and the day for the third part of it might not shine, and the night likewise.’”

As the old pastor’s melodious voice read the words, a shudder passed through Andrea and she grimaced. She’d known it all along, but this cinched the deal. The world, as she’d known it, had come to an end. Her life was over at the tender age of eighteen. The ridiculous arguments she’d had with her aunt and uncle about college, getting a job, buying a car were a joke. They’d wasted so much time; wasted so much energy. What fools they’d been.

Over nothing.

When Thor begged to be let out, Andrea jumped at the welcome diversion. She’d had enough of Eleazar’s reading. She followed the dog outside and waited for him on the back porch. The only worry was that he’d get wind of the poor priest’s dead body and head over there. But the dog only did his business and flew back to her with a wet nose, a happy bark, and a wagging tail.

Eleazar read for another half-hour then declared it time for bed. No one complained. Even the sullen punk in the corner looked ready to retire. They took turns in the bathroom then hit the sack. Andrea dove into her sleeping bag, more than ready for this day to come to an end.

She wanted tomorrow to be yesterday.

She wanted Keith home, safe and sound.

An eternity later, she was still wide-awake. Random fears and thoughts still did a crazy break-dance in her mind. No way she could sleep. And, as if that wasn’t bad enough, Great Uncle Fred ticked out the seconds without faltering.

Andrea lay in her sleeping bag with clenched hands and teeth, trying desperately to keep from screaming. She wanted the clock to stop, had been amazed how long it had run without her rewinding its mechanism. Until she happened to see old Eleazar doing just that. She’d bitten her tongue before ordering him to stop. He seemed to like the monstrosity, even ran a hand lovingly down the old clock’s wooden frame every once in a while. The ticking shouldn’t be that big a deal, but it was driving her crazy. She shifted in the confining bag and turned her thoughts to Keith. That wasn’t any better. He’d been gone hours, too long to be out there, alone.

She was reciting the alphabet backwards when a moan had her raising her head. The dark mounds around her remained motionless, but someone had made the sound. Andrea listened and strained to pierce the darkness that was almost a living entity taking up space in their living room. Then another soft moan let her know it was Carrie.

“Carrie,” Andrea whispered. “Are you okay?”

“N-no.” The voice wobbled.

“What’s the matter? Anything I can do?”

Another moan. “I don’t think so.”

“What’s the problem?”

“I don’t know.” The reply was fretful.

Andrea quickly unzipped her sleeping bag. “Well, what is it? Are you feeling sick? Nauseous?”

“N-no. Not sick. Just in pain. I-I think, maybe, I’m having contractions.”

An invisible nail scraped down an invisible chalkboard. Andrea winced. Contractions?
Oh, God. No. Not now.

“Okay. Okay. So, do you want to sit up? On the recliner, maybe?”

“I don’t know. I guess.” Carrie’s voice was now an official whine.

“Have you, uh, had any classes? You know, on childbirth? Breathing technique. Stuff like that?”

“Y-yes. Rob and I both went to a class. Supposed to go to two more, but…”

“Okay. Never mind. At least that’s a start,” Andrea murmured, trying to sound in control.

A woolly head appeared from the folds of a sleeping bag and Eleazar spoke. “What is the matter? Is someone ill?”

“It’s Carrie. She’s in labor,” Andrea said, almost throwing her arms around the old man’s neck as relief flooded over her. At least she wouldn’t have to deal with this new emergency alone. The minister would help. He seemed to be a master of a lot of trades. Maybe he knew exactly what to do in a situation like this.

Stranger things had already happened.

“Oh, dear me,” the old reverend muttered as he struggled to get free of the confining sleeping bag. “Oh, my, my, my.”

“Should I boil some water? They’re always doing it in the movies.”

Eleazar shook his head then nodded. “No-yes. Yes, do that. It certainly would not be amiss.”

“And sheets. We’ll probably need clean sheets, right?”

“Oh, yes, yes, that will be most welcome.” The old man’s curly head bobbed up and down.

“Do you know what to do, Eleazar? I mean, have you ever been present when a baby was born?”

“Oh, yes, yes. I witnessed our only child’s debut into this world, but…”

“But?”

“That was over fifty years ago, my dear. My wife passed twenty-two years ago. Our son died in the war.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

A loud wail from Carrie startled them into action. Andrea quickly turned to assist the young woman into a recliner and raise her feet onto the footrest. “Okay. Okay. You keep taking deep breaths or whatever they told you to do. I’ll, uh, boil some water.” She glanced at Eleazar for confirmation. The old man nodded. “Okay. Okay. I’ll be right back.”

Andrea literally stumbled into the kitchen, almost catapulting over a chair. She quickly lit the stove, filled three pans with water, then turned in a full circle, wondering what to do next. Sheets. With a groan, she made her way upstairs to the linen closet beside her uncle and aunt’s room. Gathering an armful of sheets, she hurried down to the first floor, then remembered the sack of linens she and Keith had brought back from the Martins’. Oh, well.

“Here are the sheets. Where should I put them?” She was out of breath and that neon sign, advertising her ineptness, irked.