The Fourth Trumpet (8 page)

Keith couldn’t hide his annoyance. “Reverend, sir, we appreciate your fondness for quoting the Bible—I mean, that’s what you do, right? But, please, we’re looking for some answers, here. We want solid facts. Do you or do you not have any idea what’s going on?”

The pastor sighed. “Only that we are facing the greatest crisis of our lives. We must repent.”

“Excuse me?”

“‘And a third of the sun was struck, a third of the moon, and a third of the stars, so that a third of them were darkened.’” He paused, lost in thought. Then he looked directly at Keith. “Son, I am as lost as you are. My only source of solace is in The Book.” Fumbling in his trouser pockets, the trembling hand emerged with a worn little cloth-covered bible.

Keith shook his head and barked out a laugh. Grabbing the flashlight lying on the coffee table, he headed toward the kitchen.

Andrea jumped to her feet. “Where’re you going?”

“Down to the creek to fill that damned bucket I dropped earlier and get the one you left behind. We need water.” He shot a look at Carrie, but she remained cocooned in her blanket, legs folded under her, wide-open eyes glued on the reverend.

“Oh. Okay. Right. Do you want me to go—” Andrea swallowed, “—to go with you? You can’t carry both buckets
and
the, uh, flashlight.” She was trying very hard to squelch her rising apprehension.

“I’ll manage. I don’t need you. I’ll be fine. If I have to, I’ll make two trips. And if I see or hear anything, you can bet I’ll come right back.”

The young man disappeared. Andrea resumed her seat on the floor. The three left in the living room didn’t talk. Eleazar and Andrea waited. And listened. Each poised, alert, ready to spring into action if Keith needed them. Carrie, on the other hand, burrowed deeper inside the folds of her blanket.

Andrea heard the grandfather clock again. She found herself counting the tick-tocks as they grew louder and louder in the unearthly silence. Soon, she couldn’t separate the ticking from her own heartbeats. This was insanity.

Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock
.
Puh-thump, puh-thump, puh-thump—
the beats swelled, reaching crescendo. Without thinking, Andrea placed her hands against her ears and bit her lip to keep from crying out. Pastor Eleazar interpreted her growing distress. Reaching down, he patted the top of her head.

“‘Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me, your rod and your staff, they comfort me.’”

Andrea dropped her hands and let them fall into her lap. Still chewing her lower lip like a small child, she looked up at the elderly black man, looked into kind, brown eyes. “Aren’t you afraid?” she asked.

He smiled. “Yes. Of course I am afraid. I am only a weak, humble man, made of flesh and blood. I am afraid. But not of death.”

“You seemed pretty scared when you pounded on our door. You were screaming something awful then.”

“I was very much afraid. I had walked so far. In such darkness. Surrounded by unseen beings who were suffering untold anguish. But, it was not I who was screaming, my dear. I do not know who was doing it, but it was not I.”

“All that wailing wasn’t coming from you?”

“No. I admit I was terribly disoriented and fatigued beyond my normal endurance, but I was not weeping. The voices followed me as I made my journey from the church. They were the ones crying out. Yet, I saw no one and nothing touched me.”

“You didn’t see the monsters? Big cat-like humans with horrible yellow-green-slit eyes?”

“No. I saw nothing but darkness, a darkness that wove its way in and out through the trees and appeared like thick smoke from a fire such as I cannot even imagine.”

“You walked all the way from your church to our house? In that horrid darkness?”

“Yes, as remarkable as it may seem, I walked—hobbled, really—all the way here. I was drawn to the light.”

“The light?
What
light? We have only a few candles burning and the fireplace. How could you
possibly
have seen any light coming from this house?”

“I guess it was a miracle, my dear.”

“If you say so.” Andrea fidgeted. The subject bordered on the insane. The last thing Andrea wanted to talk about was miracles. The poor old man had nothing else to hang to, so let him have his delusions. She would focus on reality. She pushed up from the floor and cracked her stiff neck. “I wonder what’s keeping Keith. I think I’ll go stand on the back porch and wait for him.”

Leaving the old minister to sit with Carrie, who remained lost in her voluminous blanket, Andrea groped her way into the kitchen without bothering with a flashlight. After what the old man said about seeing their feeble lights, it made Andrea eerie just thinking that their lights could attract that much attention. It seemed impossible, really, and she doubted the old reverend actually
had
seen their light, but just to be on the safe side, she’d stumble in the dark. Thor, who hadn’t gone with Keith, followed.

The back door was open a crack, which was understandable. Keith would have his hands full and wouldn’t want to bother with trying to open a closed door. She stepped out onto the small back porch and peered through the thick, enveloping blackness.

No sounds, no movement. Anywhere. Surely, she’d be able to see Keith’s flashlight from here. Wouldn’t she? Her thoughts a mile away, she patted the top of Thor’s head. He sat on his haunches close beside her, drops of spittle making splats on the wooden floor.

She wanted to call out Keith’s name, but fear kept her mute. She couldn’t risk rousing one of the
things
.

And then she sensed something.

She didn’t hear or see anything. But she
sensed
it.

Something
was out there, but hanging back, waiting. Waiting for what? For her to come running out in search of Keith? She grabbed the dog’s collar and tightened her fist. Where
was
Keith, anyway? Why didn’t he come back? The same fear that had kept her silent now loosened her tongue.

“Keith! Keith! Can you hear me? Keith?”

No answer.

“Keith! Please answer me! Keith, where are you?”

A movement from behind made Andrea let out a frightened yelp. Eleazar put a hand on her shoulder. “Hush, dear girl, it is only I.”

“Oh! Sir, you scared me half to death.” She swallowed. “Something is
out
there. And I can’t see Keith. I should be able to see his flashlight from here. The creek is only a little ways away. Down there.” She pointed a trembling hand in the general direction of the gurgling stream.

Eleazar leaned forward, straining to pierce the cloak of darkness that prevented him from seeing. He grunted. “I do not see anything, my dear. Are you sure he is still down there?”

“He has to be. He hasn’t come back, and there sure as heck isn’t any place else he’d want to go.”

They remained on the porch for several minutes and listened. Finally, drawing a deep but ragged breath, Andrea whispered, “I have to go out and find him. He may be in trouble.”

“Send the dog.”

“What? Send Thor? I don’t know. He might not go. He isn’t as protective of Keith as he is of me.”

“Try.”

“Okay.” Andrea bent down and held the German shepherd’s face in both hands. Looking deep into his soulful brown eyes, she gave her command. “Thor, find Keith. Find Keith. Go. Find Keith, boy.” She shoved the dog forward with her knee. He bounded down the few steps and was swallowed instantly by the ominous Nothing.

The old pastor and she waited, neither one attempting to take a breath or move an inch. They waited and again Andrea felt herself straining to hear something. Was Keith dead? Would they find him later, lying on his back, staring into infinity like the Martins? Andrea closed her eyes as a sinuous dread slithered down her back.

TEN

“‘For there will be a
great
tribulation,’” Eleazar muttered.

Andrea allowed a glance in his direction. “What’d you say?”

“I was just praying, my dear. Do not pay any attention to a silly, old man.”

Andrea didn’t. Instead, she put her whole attention on the desolate scene before her, the swirling, smoky blackness that’d taken over the land—the entire world, for all she knew. She wanted to scream or pull her hair out. She wanted to hit something…or somebody.

Something dreadful had happened to Keith. Nothing would keep him out there this long. It should’ve taken him only minutes to fill the bucket, grab the other—darkness or no darkness. The
things
had gotten him. That was all she could think about. The
things
were out there lying in wait for their prey, patient, satisfied that they’d get what they wanted. Sooner or later.

When Thor barked, Andrea jumped a foot. Deep, throaty barks that sent slivers of ice down her back. Swallowing, working up enough saliva to use her voice, she yelled, “Thor! Come here, boy. Thor!
Come
.”

They heard a shrill yelp of pain, and then silence flooded over them once again. Andrea looked at Eleazar with panicked entreaty pouring from her blue eyes. The older man just shook his head and muttered, “‘The Lord will be a refuge for the oppressed, a refuge in times of trouble, and those who know your name will put their trust in You; for You, Lord, have not forsaken those who seek You.’”

“Would you quit with the Bible quoting.
Jeez!
Something’s wrong. I have to go out there. Something
horrible
has happened.”

“Dear girl, you cannot go out alone. It is too dangerous. What could a slip of a girl do where a full-grown man could not?”

Andrea balled her fists and thrust her chin up, marched down the porch steps and stopped. She listened. She wanted to search for Keith and the dog, but her courage was melting like an ice cube in August. Fear prevented her from taking one more step.

“He’s gone, isn’t he,” a small voice said behind her.

Andrea whirled around in surprise. Carrie had come out onto the porch—arms wrapped tightly around her chest, but with eyes clear and focused. “Carrie. You startled me. You shouldn’t be up. How do you feel?”

“I asked you a question, Andrea. Keith’s gone, isn’t he? First Rob. Now Keith.”

Andrea shrugged, hands out in quiet supplication. “I don’t know.”

“He’s been gone too long, hasn’t he? He should’ve been back by now.
It
got him, didn’t it? It got Rob and now it’s got Keith. It will get you. It will get me. And my baby.”

Eleazar put an arm around the girl’s shoulders and tried to guide her back into the house. Carrie wouldn’t budge. “My husband’s dead. He’s left me. And now Keith has left me. Pretty soon everybody will leave and I will be all alone. What’s going to happen to my baby?” Her voice rose to a wail.

At that, the pastor used more force and was able to turn her around. Pushing gently but firmly, he walked her through the kitchen and back into the living room. With one more look over her shoulder, Andrea followed. Her heart was a lump in her throat and tears were welling up and threatening to spill over. She didn’t think she’d much strength left either. If this was the way things were going to be, she wanted to die, too.

The old man and the two young women sat down, each with a blanket and a brooding expression. The fire needed more logs, but Andrea had no strength or will to make the effort. Carrie was staring at the wall, and Andrea feared she was slipping back into her catatonic state. The minister was studying his hands. Andrea studied the bowed head, wondering what the man really believed.

When he looked up, he smiled at Andrea. “I believe I will stretch out on this wonderful couch. Do you mind?”

Andrea shook her head. “No, of course not. You must be exhausted. Do you want anything—a drink or something?”

“No, thank you, my dear. I will rest my eyes for half an hour and then, maybe, we can have a little something to eat.”

“Sure.”

Eleazar didn’t say another word. He brought his legs up and stretched out. Leaning back on one of the throw pillows, he closed his eyes. His lips were moving, but no words were audible. Andrea guessed he was praying again. Uncomfortable with the minister and the catatonic woman huddled in her mound of blankets, Andrea crawled to her sleeping bag and got inside—shoes and all. She scrunched way down in its flannel folds, zipped it up to her neck, and closed her eyes. Maybe if she went to sleep, when she woke up, everything would be all right. Maybe.

* * * *

Andrea held her breath, waiting for the brute to trample her. But when its thunderous footfalls stopped suddenly, and the earth ceased to tremble, she opened her eyes. The
thing
was not standing over her. Instead, she looked up through a canopy of interlacing oak branches at a blue sky, dotted with puffy, white clouds. Hope surging, she rolled over, got to her hands and knees and stood.

And there it was.

The beast.

The monster.

For some reason, it had stopped about three yards away. Nostrils flaring, ears back, pawing the dirt with one hoof, it stared at her with dark, soulless eyes.

Fear paralyzed Andrea. She didn’t know what to do. Turn and walk slowly away? Face it and wave her arms wildly in an attempt to startle it into running in the opposite direction? She hadn’t a clue how to handle this situation. Never dreamed she’d ever be in a dilemma like this. Had to be a bad dream.

No, a nightmare.

“Berry,” she whispered. “Berry, please…”

Then the beast lowered its huge, shaggy head.

It was coming for her, and no flailing of arms on her part was going to thwart it.

* * * *

“Andrea. Andrea, my dear, wake up.”

Andrea rolled onto her back and opened her eyes. A dark-skinned man was leaning over her—one hand brushing the hair away from her perspiring face. She screamed.

“No, child. You are all right. You are safe. It is I, Eleazar. You remember me—the old pastor who came to your doorstep for help. Yes?”

Andrea blinked several times and sat up. It all came back to her. She wasn’t in the woods being attacked by
It
. She was lying in her own living room, in the dark, with people she hadn’t known thirty-six hours ago. But she was safe.