Trimble turned and walked away from her, then wheeled and pointed a finger at her. “Did the phenomenon that occurred and took every child from this world—including your own son Christopher—happen while you were on that rooftop?”
Megan put a hand to her mouth, remembering how everything had been, remembering how Gerry had fallen and she’d held on to him, remembering how his hand had started sliding through hers, remembering how she had kissed Chris good-bye for the last time and hadn’t known it and had been in such a rush—“I’m just going to sleep for a little while, Mommy, so you can come and get me soon”—that she’d left Chris there all alone in a strange place.
“Yes,” she answered. The tears came then, and she couldn’t stop them.
“When that happened,” Trimble said, “when Gerry vanished in front of your eyes, did you immediately think the Rapture had occurred?”
“No. I had no idea.”
“But the idea didn’t take too long to come to you, did it, Mrs. Gander?”
Megan had no clue what Trimble was talking about.
“Did only a few seconds pass before you figured out what you were going to do?”
“I don’t understand,” Megan said.
“MPs were on their way up to the rooftop, correct?”
“Yes. I was holding on to Gerry. He’d fallen over the side of the building. He was too heavy. I couldn’t pull him back up to safety. I felt his hand sliding through mine. I was so afraid they weren’t going to get there in time.”
“Or were you afraid that they would get there too soon?”
Megan stared at him.
“When did the idea to pick up Gerry Fletcher’s clothing after he had vanished come to you, Mrs. Gander? When did you think to set yourself up as a failed rescuer by dangling those empty clothes over the side of the building? Did you intend to set yourself up as some new messiah in that instant, to go forth with your message that the world is ending?”
“Gerry Fletcher fell from that building,” Megan said, stunned by the accusation. “People saw him fall.”
“Did you know, Mrs. Gander,” Trimble asked in a calm and patient voice, “that I have talked to more witnesses who say it might have only been the boy’s clothing they saw hanging from your hand rather than a boy? Do you remember how dark that night was? Or were you counting on that so no one could see what you were truly doing?”
“No,” Megan said. “That isn’t right. You’re making all of that up.”
“Didn’t you come to my office just a couple days ago, asking me to set up classes on the Tribulation for the teens you’re counseling?” Trimble asked.
“Yes, but—”
“Was it your plan, Mrs. Gander, to talk all of those kids into committing suicide the way you tried to convince Leslie Hollister that she was in a dream so that if she shot herself she wouldn’t really be hurt?”
“No!” Overcome by emotion, hurting and frustrated, Megan surged from the seat and turned to the courtroom. “Trimble is lying! He’s afraid that I am telling the truth!” She sucked in a ragged breath, knowing she was out of control but was unable to stop herself. “This isn’t about me! This is about what’s coming! It’s called the Tribulation! It’s in the Bible! Everything that’s going to happen in the next seven years is in the Bible!”
The people in the courtroom only stared at her as if she were a madwoman. Oh, God, she thought, help me. Help me to make them see.
“This is about all of us,” Megan said. “We were left behind. For whatever reason, we are still here, and we have to figure out why and what we have to do to get right with God. This is not about Gerry Fletcher or me. This is about us.” She shook as she ran out of gas and looked around the courtroom. “You don’t believe me. You can’t see what’s really taking place all around you. That’s part of the reason you’re still here. You have to get past that. You have to before it’s too late.”
Silence reigned in the court for a moment.
Exhausted, Megan sat back down.
“Well,” Trimble said into the silence that followed, “I’m finished here, Colonel.”
Looking at the disappointment on Benbow’s face as well as the astonishment on the faces of the jury and the audience, Megan felt she was finished also.
Where are You, God? Why aren’t You here? This is Your fight. I can’t do this on my own. Please, You have got to help me.
15
Church of the Word
Marbury, Alabama
Local Time 1101 Hours
Delroy stood as the anchor at the end of the long rope the congregation used to hoist the church bell off the ground. He dug his feet in and pulled as the other men holding the rope joined him and pulled. Walter was there, adding his considerable strength, and so was Eddie Fikes, the counterman from the donut shop.
“Pull!” Delroy roared, heaving again as he gained another step. The other people around them took up the cry, echoing Delroy’s command.
The heavy church bell rose another foot into the air. Men on scaffolds at the side of the church guided the bell and kept it from slamming into the side of the church.
“Heave!” Delroy yelled again, and the men surged after him, gaining another foot.
Four years ago Reynard Culpepper had found and bought the original bell that had been housed in the church steeple at the Church of the Word sixty years ago, back when the area hadn’t been quite so developed and some of the surrounding land had still been farmland. Culpepper was a trader, a man who made his living selling and buying, trading and bartering. He had developed an online business by teaching himself the computer and then the Internet, which was surprising for a man of eighty-three. If someone wanted something for a fair price or wanted to swap out, Culpepper could get it. Plus commission. He’d always intended to sell the bell or drag
