Elias, his eyes wide with fright, his head pounding. 'You're lying!'
Brother Elias stood unmoving as a warm wind blew around him. He looked at the priest but said nothing. His eyes were unreadable.
As Brother Elias talked in low tones to Father Andrews, Jim gave Gordon a crash course in firearm use. After showing him how to unlatch the safety, how to aim and fire the rifle, he shot a pine cone lying on the ground. The pine cone was blown into tiny fragments. He then coached Gordon through a shot of his own. Gordon aimed at a blue logger's marking on a tree, but the bullet whistled harmlessly through the nearby branches, missing the tree completely.
'That's okay,' Jim said. He then showed Gordon what he had done wrong, demonstrating how to hold the rifle properly and how to sight by tilting his head and not the gun. After several more tries, Gordon was finally able to hit one of the wider trees. He shot the rifle twice on his own, with no help from Jim, and he hit the tree both times.
'That's good enough,' Brother Elias said, walking over to them. 'You don't need to be any more precise than that. Your target will be big.'
'How big?' Jim asked.
Brother Elias did not answer.
Behind the preacher, Father Andrews came shuffling forward. His face was ashen, his walk slow and stilted. He looked from Jim to Gordon, but his eyes were blank. His hands were clenched into trembling fists.
'We must start walking,' Brother Elias said, stepping to the back of the pickup. He picked up a box and put it down at his feet, drawing something hidden in a greasy rag from the rear of the truck and dropping it into the box. 'I hope we are not already too late.'
The four men climbed over the hastily made barrier of downed aspens, Jim and Gordon shouldering rifles, Brother Elias carrying his box.
Father Andrews followed close behind the preacher, carrying nothing, lost in silence.
The warm wind that had been blowing around them grew stronger as they walked. It whipped around them in strange and unnatural currents, sending strings of round aspen leaves fluttering in tiny whirlwinds, blowing against their faces from first one direction then another.
Above them, the clouds and smoke were slowly encroaching on the sun.
Ahead of them, the trail was already shadowed.
Brother Elias walked fast. He was obviously used to walking, and even wearing a suit and dress shoes he strode quickly and purposefully over rocks and ruts, pushing his way pastmanzanitas and mimosas. There was a trace of urgency in his movements, a hint of desperation in his long-legged stride. The trail they followed wound gradually upward, climbing a graded slope, but the preacher did not seem to notice. He did not slow down as he climbed but maintained a consistently even pace.
Ahead, the trail widened into a dirt semicircle. It was here that the off-road vehicles able to navigate the rough trail parked. Beyond this point there was only a small narrow footpath. Brother Elias did not even slow down as he came to the trail's end. He stepped purposefully over the low border of intentionally placed boulders and continued walking.
The climb was much steeper now. They were walking almost straight uphill, and both Gordon and Father Andrews were soon gasping for breath. Even Jim was having a difficult time. In addition to the rigorousness of the climb, the altitude was quite high and there was a noticeable lack of oxygen.
But Brother Elias seemed not to notice any of this. If anything, his gait became quicker, surer. He continued forward at a rapid pace, undaunted by either the steep climb or the thin air. He did not even bother to look back to make sure the others were following him.
Finally, all four of them reached the top of the hill. Here the path ended. Around them, the top of the rise was flat, the trees spaced widely apart. To their left, down through the forest of aspens, they could see the shimmering blue of the lake.
Brother Elias strode along the hilltop, never glancing to the side, never looking back, sure of his destination. The other three followed, trying to keep up. The wind was blowing wildly. Although very few trees or bushes were moving, the four of them were being buffeted by extremely strong gales. It was as if the wind was sentient, alive, and wanted only toharrass them. Gordon looked up. The sky was now almost completely overcast, the sun effectively blotted out.
Suddenly Brother Elias stopped. He pointed in front of him.
Protruding from the tall weeds and grasses were scores of small white crosses. Gordon shivered, feeling his knees grow weak.
Brother Elias put down his box and turned toward them. His face was set in an expression of grim determination. 'We are here,' he said.
Marina slowly came to her senses. The first thing she felt, before she even opened her eyes, was the sharp agonizing pain that burned through both the palms of her hands and the soles of her feet.
'Marina,' Dr.VVaterston said softly. 'Marina.'
She tried to stretch, but she could not move, and the pain ripped through her hands and feet like razor blades, flaring up through her body. She screamed in agony, opening her eyes wide.
Before her, standing in the middle of the kitchen, staring down at her, was the charred and blackened form of Dr. Waterston. He was burned horribly, and he smiled, his teeth unnaturally white. 'We have been waiting for you to awaken,' he said.
Marina noticed that her robe was wide open. Her panties had been ripped off.
'We wanted to make sure you could see and enjoy what we are about to do,' Dr. Waterston said.
The evil-looking fetus with the large carving knife moved between Marina's legs.
'NO!' she screamed.
Brother Elias motioned for the rest of them to file past him into the unholy graveyard. The wind was howling wildly now; the sky was black.
The preacher clapped a hand on Jim's shoulder as the sheriff moved past him. 'You are a good man,' he said. 'I know you will protect us well, as your family always has.' There seemed to be a note of regret in his voice, a hint of apology. His hand clasped Gordon's shoulder as Gordon walked into the field of crosses. 'You, too, will be strong,' he said.
'For us as well as for your wife and daughter.'
His black eyes met those of Father Andrews as the priest filed past.
'Are you ready, Father?'
Andrews nodded silently.
He looks scared, Gordon thought.
Brother Elias drew from the box he had placed on the ground before him the two jars of blood. He opened the jars and passed his hands over the mouths of both, chanting quietly to himself. He took a small sip from each. Standing straight, his short hair blowing in the hard wind, he began walking slowly around the unseen perimeter of the makeshift graveyard, dribbling the blood on the ground as he did so. The wind was strong, but it was not strong enough to scatter the blood, and the heavy red liquid fell straight to the earth and weeds below.
Gordon did not think the supply of blood would hold out, but Brother Elias finished the entire circle and returned to them. From the box, he drew something small wrapped in a greasy rag.
He pulled open the sides of the rag to reveal the dried body of a long-dead fetus.
Gordon looked at the sheriff, who returned his troubled gaze. Both men watched silently as Brother Elias took the four small crosses from the canvas bag. He embedded three of the crosses in the ground at his feet, and immediately the wind doubled in strength. A tree branch cracked, falling to the ground. There was a low roaring rumble beneath their feet.
'Come closer!' Brother Elias shouted over the noise.
The other three moved next to him, holding their ground against the wind.
'The time has come!' the preacher shouted. 'We must eat of the body, we must drink of the blood of power!' He looked at Gordon. 'Give me your arm!'
Hesitantly, unsure of what the preacher was going to do, Gordon held out his arm. Brother Elias pushed up
