“That’s six feet,” Griffin chimed in helpfully.
“There actually is a road underneath all that current,” the scout insisted. She treated them to a mischievous smile as she eased the truck forward. “Here we go. Keep your hands inside the truck and mind the salties.”
Chapter 8—Dumb Plan
Abraham limped through the reception area of the compound dispensary to Brother Andrew’s office at the back. The Nephilim’s resident herbalist stood perched on a stepstool taking inventory of supplies. Oblivious to the arrival of his visitor, he hummed a disjointed tune.
“Brother Andrew,” the diviner barked.
The herbalist spun around, nearly toppling off his perch. He grabbed one of the shelves to steady himself. “F... Father. I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you arrive.” He scrambled down, adjusting his glasses which had been knocked askew. Peering up at his superior, he asked, “How can I help you today?”
In wordless reproach, Abraham slammed an empty brown bottle on the herbalist’s desk before lowering himself into a chair. “I need another refill.”
Brother Andrew took a seat behind the desk and examined the bottle. “So soon, Father? This should have lasted for several more days.”
“I have been under additional...” Metcalf hesitated. “Additional strain this week. I required more frequent dosing to allow me to sleep.”
The herbalist cleared his throat nervously. “As I’ve told you before, Father, this medicine is very powerful. Increasing the dosage may create an unwelcome dependency—”
Metcalf cut him off. “Do you have an additional supply on hand, or not?”
Sighing, Brother Andrew rose and went to a shelf lined with brown bottles. He selected one and handed it to his leader.
Pocketing the bottle, the diviner added, “I suspect the last batch you made may have been tainted in some way.”
“Tainted!” Brother Andrew dropped into his chair in shock. “What would make you think that?”
Abraham rubbed his forehead wearily. “I’ve been seeing things out of the corner of my eye. Not like the usual visions from the Lord which this elixir imparts. Indistinct human shapes. Grey figures. If I try to look at them directly, they vanish only to reappear as if they were peeping at me from the shadows. It’s maddening.”
The herbalist gaped at him.
“And then sometimes I hear the murmur of voices. I can never make out what they’re saying. Just a rumble as if they’re arguing about something in another room, but I never know what.”
Brother Andrew sighed. “This is very troubling news.”
“Obviously, you’ve made a mistake in concocting my medicine,” Abraham challenged.
“Oh no, Father. That isn’t the problem. I believe it’s the amount of the tincture you’re using.” The herbalist hesitated. “In the Fallen World, this remedy has been employed for hundreds of years. Some who have taken high doses of this particular medicine have reported such...” He glanced nervously at Abraham. “Um... have reported such... visual and auditory hallucinations as you describe.”
“Hallucinations?” The diviner echoed skeptically.
“I believe so, Father.”
Abraham quailed at the prospect. The reason he’d started taking the medicine in the first place was to banish certain unpleasant apparitions, especially that of his dead daughter-in-law Annabeth. Now it appeared he was summoning even more demonic shapes to his bedside. Rather than allow the herbalist to see his fear, he quickly changed the subject. “Never mind about that,” That isn’t the reason I came to speak to you today anyway.”
“Then tell me how I can be of service,” Brother Andrew pressed, apparently relieved to be off the subject of hallucinations.
Abraham looked up at the ceiling, gathering his thoughts. “My wife Hannah hasn’t spoken a word since we rescued her.”
“Yes, I’ve heard about that.” Brother Andrew nodded. “I’m sure being exposed to the wickedness of the Fallen must have been very frightening to one so young and innocent.”
“My son Joshua seems to think she’s malingering.”
“Oh, I hardly think so,” the herbalist objected.
“Really?” Abraham searched Brother Andrew’s face eagerly for reassurance.
“During my younger days in the outer world, I heard of many cases like Sister Hannah’s. Apparently, people who have suffered some great shock or trauma at a tender age may spontaneously lose the power of speech even though there is nothing wrong with their vocal cords. It is an affliction of the mind, I fear.”
The diviner sat forward in his chair. “And what is the cure for such a condition?”
Brother Andrew shrugged. “Time and a great deal of patience when dealing with the stricken one.”
“So, you don’t think the medicine you’re giving me might help her?”
The herbalist’s eyes grew round. “Oh, heavens, no! In such cases, the afflicted has great difficulty connecting with the physical world. The last thing Sister Hannah needs is a medicine that would further distance her from this realm. In fact, administering the tincture to her might make the poor child’s condition worse!”
“Of course, just as you say.” Metcalf backpedaled and reconsidered the idea. “So, I was right in the first place. Peace and quiet is what she needs. To that end, I have moved her to a section of the compound which is much less busy.”
“That’s a very good idea,” Brother Andrew agreed enthusiastically. “A calm atmosphere that makes her feel secure will surely assist in her recovery.”
Abraham stroked his chin. “Perhaps some female companionship from one of her sister-wives would bring her additional comfort.”
“Also an excellent suggestion.” The herbalist gave his superior an encouraging smile.
“I have it.” Abraham slapped the arm rest of his chair decisively. “I’ll send Mother Rachel to visit her regularly.”
“Perhaps someone her own age might be more appropriate,” Brother Andrew countered.
“Nonsense,” Metcalf objected. “None of my other wives are as young as Hannah. What she needs is a woman of mature understanding and strong faith to guide her back to mental health.”
“Have you considered that Mother Rachel might be of too strong a temperament?” the herbalist objected meekly.
The diviner barely heard him, already mentally caught up in his new plan. “What? Of course not! Don’t be ridiculous.” He stood up as decisively as his weakened
