Delroy couldn’t speak, but he felt the rock he’d uncovered sitting solid and heavy behind him. He thought he’d finished with the creature back in Washington. But you felt it coming after you, didn’t you, Delroy? You knew it had your scent. That’s why you’ve been looking over your shoulder for days.
A grin spread across the creature’s face. A forked black tongue played over its thin lips. “Isn’t that idolatry, Chaplain Harte? Worshiping an image of anything that isn’t the God you profess to believe in?”
“Get away from me,” Delroy ordered. Fear of the thing and what it might do filled him. The fear wasn’t for himself; it was for the final resting places of his loved ones and his family. There was no telling what the creature might choose to do to the graves. He stepped back farther in the hole, straddling the rock.
The thing leaned forward and smiled again. Another flash of lightning turned the head more wedge-shaped, stripping away the false humanity and exposing long teeth. “I have to admit, you surprised me by coming here. Didn’t think you had something like this in you. Thought you’d head on back to that ship once you finished your business in D.C.”
Delroy’s heart hammered frantically in his chest. When he’d last faced the thing in the Pentagon, the creature had tried to kill him. And it had been seen by a Joint Chief, the one man Delroy needed to convince of the Rapture.
“Going back to the ship could have been interesting,” the thing said. “Personally, I was looking forward to it. Your ship buddies are having a lot of problems there. The war effort—” it shrugged—“other … things. I would have enjoyed adding to those problems.”
“What do you want with me?” Delroy demanded. The creature’s words tore into him, making him feel even guiltier that he’d asked for and received permission from Captain Falkirk to check on his family before returning to Wasp. Under the circumstances, with all the disappearances around the globe and information slowly grinding through the communications channels about who remained, Falkirk had hesitated only a little before agreeing.
The thing grinned. Blue eyes glinted in the reflected flashlight beam, then lightning flashed and turned the eyes into fiery amber slits that ran up alongside its head. “What do I want? I want you to suffer, Chaplain. Then I want you to die.”
“Why?”
Coiling with a grace that was more than human, the evil being squatted down at the edge of the grave, resting on the knuckles of its left hand. Or perhaps it rested on a paw.
“Because that’s what I was sent to do,” the thing answered. “Because I exist to accomplish that.”
“Who sent you?”
The thing shook its head. “That would be telling.”
“You’re insane.”
The thin, brittle laughter that issued from the thing’s mouth ricocheted from the nearby trees. “Sanity and insanity and every degree between are human conditions, Chaplain. I’ve never been human. I’ve never been that vulnerable or weak. Only worn the flesh and got the T-shirt.” It paused to lick its lips with the forked black tongue. “I’m evil, and I glory in being that. I love wielding fear and violence, threat and half-truths. Those are the tools of my trade.” A mocking smile framed its lips. “Tactics not totally unlike those practiced by some of the leaders of your calling.” It took a deep breath through its slitted nostrils. “And I love the chance to walk the earth again. People here are … foolish … and frail. Easy to destroy or to kill.”
Delroy noticed that the thing wore a black T-shirt and khakis. People passing this creature on the street wouldn’t give it a second look. Though it got rained on, the creature showed no signs of being wet. Water rolled off its skin and clothing without leaving anything behind, like water from a duck’s back.
“Go ahead and open the grave,” the thing suggested with a coaxing, crooked little smile. It flicked a forefinger toward the hole Delroy stood in. “That’s what you came here for, right?”
Delroy stood and held the shovel like a weapon. Back in the Pentagon, the creature had told him that all the people who had been left behind after the Rapture were only prey, meant to be hunted by it and others like it.
“Open the grave, Chaplain,” the thing taunted. “See if that God of yours saw fit to pull your son’s remains from that box and take him to heaven.”
Delroy waited. He knew he could not run. Even if the creature had been human, he could never elude it in the brush. It moved too quickly. He was too tired and there was no safe place to run.
“Or maybe when you open that box, you’re going to find your boy still there.” The thing smiled. “Wouldn’t that be something if he didn’t make it to heaven either? if he was still stranded here? Like father like son, I guess.”
“Terrence was a good man,” Delroy said, unable to restrain himself, even though he knew the creature only baited him. “He gave his life to save the lives of other members of his squad.”
“Stupid bravery is going to buy his way into heaven?”
Delroy started to speak but couldn’t.
“Even I know that a hero’s death isn’t going to guarantee you a place in heaven, Preacher. I’m familiar with the childish ideology you follow. You believe you can get to heaven by simply believing Jesus died for your sins. I’m telling you now that He was nothing more than a scared man the day the Romans hung Him on that cross. You want to know who deified Him? Hawkers. Men who chopped up that cross and sold kindling as religious objects. Just men out to make a profit.”
“You’re lying,” Delroy said. “Everything that comes out of your mouth is a lie.”
The thing raised an arched eyebrow. “Is it?”
“Yes.”
“Your son was a good man, and he was a good soldier.” The creature raised its hands.
