Then, he pulled the trigger.
With a quick
whooosh
, the flare blasted out the tip of the gun and buried itself inside Cindy’s chest, directly below her breast bone, setting her diaphragm and soon her lungs on fire. She stared up at Douglas in disbelief, the fire spreading across her forehead and down to her eyeballs. A second later, her body gave out and her burning face smashed down onto the wood floor.
Father Billy, in a state of shock, stared over at Douglas.
“She was going to kill you,” Douglas whimpered. “I had to do it...”
Father Billy didn’t reply for a moment as he was still trying to figure this out in his mind. He had believed, wholeheartedly, that God was working within Cindy. He was more than twice her size, yet she’d been seconds away from killing him. But then this? It felt like the Lord was at the point of playing with human life just to taunt him.
“Jesus Christ,” Father Billy said, spitting out the words.
Douglas looked at him like he might cry as Cindy’s body crackled and burned, sending up cinders from her burning clothes. “Are you okay, Father Billy?”
“I am,” said the priest as he rose and went to the kitchen sink.
He took a rag, hosed it off under the faucet and quickly cleaned up his already clotting wound. As Douglas watched, he put bandages that were only recently tied around his head around his torso. The youngster noticed the oddly-shaven part of Father Billy’s head, evident to him now with his back turned, but didn’t say anything about it as the priest cleaned himself up and drank a glass of water. After Father Billy had taped off the bandages, he wheeled around to the boy, his face already contorting as he readied his next – and last – big lie.
“This?” Father Billy said, pointing at Cindy, his voice shaking. “This is the end. I made a mistake. I thought we were still on Earth. Oh, ho, ho – no. I was wrong. We’ve been in Hell this entire time, we just didn’t know it. The Devil won. He has conquered mankind. It never made sense how he could be here, freed from the Inferno, but it was
we
who were in
his
domain not the other way around.”
The room fell silent as Father Billy stared at Douglas, still holding the flare gun. The boy looked back at Father Billy, his face completely blank as she tried to make heads or tails of Father Billy’s words.
But then, his eyes went wide and he nodded.
“Oh, God...,” said Douglas. “Oh, God. What do we do?”
Father Billy’s mind raced.
Keep it coming, keep it coming...
“God told me there was one road out of Hell, but it’s only for the
most
faithful,” Father Billy began, haltingly. “It’s the ultimate test of your belief in Him in these new, dire times. What you have believed your entire life to be the most mortal of sins, the taking of a life, is now the one thing God asks of you.”
“But I just did,” Douglas said quickly, pointing to Cindy. “I just took a life.”
“No,” Father Billy replied. “You took the life of a demon. You must take the life of a human and since it is the duty of everyone, the life you must take is your own.”
Douglas’ eyes went wide with fear.
Father Billy nodded gently. “I know it must sound terrifying, but it will bring you into the bosom of Our Lord, where we all belong and where we spend our entire life trying to get to.”
Douglas looked at Father Billy and the priest could see just the beginnings of skepticism.
“Of course, I’ll be right beside you when you go,” added Father Billy to seal the deal.
“You will?” Douglas asked, as if this would make it all right.
“Absolutely.”
“Then... will you help me tell the others?”
Father Billy nodded. “We’ll tell them now. Together.”
Maia and Faith made it back to the camp about an hour past dusk, the rain clouds finally receding off to the east, allowing the moon to peek through the gloom. The girls had just slipped past The Rocks and were nearing the dock when they saw Father Billy and Douglas walking towards the screened-in classroom.
“What’s going on?” Faith asked, staring at the bandaged wound on Father Billy’s side and the gash on his face.
“I don’t know and from the look of it, we don’t want to know,” Maia replied. “We’re here to get our clothes and go, that’s it.”
Faith nodded and the pair altered their trajectory, looping around the camp and giving Father Billy and his charge a wide berth.
On the floor of the administrator’s cabin, Cindy’s heart continued to beat deep within her torturously burned body though her brain was no longer functioning at any kind of level that could lead to a successful revival. She was dead and gone, her spirit, her soul, her memories, whatever made her the person that had so recently lived and dreamed and been loved, literally up in smoke.
In her last moments of life, her thoughts were a haze. She envisioned her parents, her home, a couple of friends, her grandmother, but more than anything, she caught fleeting memories of her night before with Ian, which gave her some peace. Cutting through all this, though, was the recurring image of Douglas standing in the doorway. But she realized that it was Douglas she was focusing on, but something
behind
the boy. She tried to look harder, but the pain she was in was remarkable in its intensity. Finally, she was able to glimpse what it was — a great, yellow-and-white light, but in the shape of a person. That’s when she realized that it was an angel. Douglas’s actions had been governed by an
angel
.
She couldn’t believe this. She tried to cry out or, at least, turn to see if Father Billy had seen the same thing, but the flames ate through her brain stem and half a second later, she had thought her thought.
But even then, the last image she watched fading in her mind, was of that angelic glow. Not a face, not a wing, but what she could only describe as holy light as might emerge from the eyes of God Himself, staring down from Heaven.
X
The children of the prayer circle took the news about the Devil surprisingly well, better than Father Billy or Douglas Perry had expected them to. Having fasted for so long, many were simply happy to know that the end,
any
end, had finally arrived. Some were afraid of the violence involved with their coming end, but Father Billy assured them that it would be painless. They would be provided with shallow bowls of warm water from the kitchen and they were to place their arms in them after cutting their wrists length-wise from halfway up to the elbow all the way to their palms. Long before their blood drained all the way out, Father Billy explained, they’d fall unconscious and would quietly pass over in their sleep.
“And then, like Christmas morning, you will awake in the arms of Our Lord!” Father Billy exclaimed. “Your families are already waiting there for you, watching you do this brave thing. You’ll just slip from this life into that. The reason the Lord wanted you to fast was to ease this transition. It will only make it that less painful.”
As Father Billy spoke, Douglas walked through the classroom laying knives beside each of the children. One of the kids, a thirteen year-old named Ronald Green, looked up at Douglas with wide eyes.
“Will you help me? I don’t know if I can do this.”
Douglas was about to answer in the affirmative when Father Billy shook his head.
“You have to do it yourself,” Father Billy stated, leaving no wiggle room. “If someone else takes your life, it’s murder and you’ll be trapped here in Hell.”
Ronald stared up at the priest, but then nodded, which made the priest feel a momentary pang of guilt. He was just spinning stories now. This was no longer about putting God to the test, this was spitting in His face by killing those He most beloved.
But then Father Billy took a deep breath and pushed these thoughts out of his mind. This was his mission, all the way to the end.
When Douglas reached the last person in the room, Becca Roy, he found her smiling.
“I knew this would come to pass,” she said. “I’ve known since I met him.”
She touched Douglas’s hand, her eyes long glazed over with hunger.
“I can’t wait to see you over there,” she continued, running her fingers over his knuckles and tracing designs on his palms. “Thank you, Douglas. And thank you, Father Billy. I would be lost without the two of you.”
Without another word, Becca picked up her knife, closed her eyes and violently punctured a hole in her left wrist before winding the blade around her arm, cutting a long, continuous circular pattern all the way up to her elbow like someone attempting to peel an orange with a single cut. She did this again to her right arm, more jagged now as she was right handed. On top of that, the blood cascading down her left arm made the knife handle slippery, but she finally managed to finish and placed both arms in her bowl of water.
Everyone was surprised with the ease with which she did it, though Father Billy knew it was hardly the first time she’d cut herself. She looked around at the others, a little wistfully.
“Come,” she admonished them. “We’re doing this
together
.”
No one wanted to go next, but then Ronald Green picked up his knife and cut his arm, just not deep enough.
“No, no, like this,” said another girl, who demonstrated by slashing deeply into her wrists, but then gave a gasp so intense was the pain.
“Oh, my God!”
“It’s okay,” said Father Billy. “It’s all okay. You just have to be brave for a moment and then everything will be fine. Besides, it’s not really pain, just your surprise at a new feeling. There is no pain!”
The room went quiet for another few seconds before, one by one, the children nervously took up their knives and followed Becca and Patricia’s motions. Very soon, a foul stench filled the room as more than a few bladders loosened as the campers placed their torn up wrists into bowls of lukewarm water, swiftly reddening with blood, and lost control of their bodily functions.
“Douglas?” whispered Becca.
Douglas, who hadn’t slashed his wrists yet, turned to her, a questioning look on his face. Rather than speak, she leaned over and gave him a light kiss on the lips.
“It’s really, really okay,” she murmured, then slipped into unconsciousness.
Douglas stared in horror as Becca face-planted onto the table in front of her, her arms flopping to the side as her bowl careened onto the floor. With a great clatter that seemed to continue, a number of other children around him began fainting as well, dumping over their own blood-filled bowls as their bodies plunged forward or they fell clumsily out of their seats. As their collective wounds continued to bleed out, bloody water splashed up onto Douglas’s shoe, causing him to flinch.
That’s when he felt Father Billy’s hand on his shoulder.
“It’s your turn,” said the priest.
“I thought we were all going to go together, Father,” Douglas said. “Where’s your knife?”
Douglas suddenly felt one of the nails digging into his side as Father Billy moved in close, the spike gripped in his fist.
“I was curious, Douglas,” Father Billy whispered, ignoring the chastising tone in Douglas’s voice. “Where did you get the flare gun?”
“Found it,” Douglas said defiantly through gritted teeth.
“Found it
where?
”
“Behind your cabin, near the washing machines,” Douglas replied. “By all of the fan belts you tore out of the Jeep. And those black work suits you keep washing the blood out of.”
Father Billy nodded, having figured as much.
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I did,” Douglas replied. “To God, over and over and over again. I told Him it was you, but He didn’t listen. He didn’t do anything to stop you.”
“But you’ll tell Him now, won’t you?” Father Billy said, pressing the nail harder into the boy’s side.
“No,” Douglas said.
“No?”
“He’s not there,” Douglas said, plainly. “He probably never was. We’re all idiots.”
Douglas fell silent for a moment, holding Father Billy’s gaze.
“But, I would never have known that if it wasn’t for you. So, I have you to thank for that.”
Douglas suddenly raised his knife and Father Billy stepped back, afraid what the boy might try. But then, Douglas simply slashed his wrists, deep and with great violence. Father Billy was momentarily taken aback, but then kept the boy’s gaze until, a half-minute later, he passed out as well, his body tumbling to the wet floor with a splash.
Father Billy stared down at the body, still thinking about Douglas’s words. He found them strangely moving, but knew that only a few seconds later, Douglas would discover their inaccuracy on the other side, just not in the Heaven that the priest had promised.
That’s when he heard the most bloodcurdling of screams from behind him:
“
AAAAAAHHHHHH!!!
”
Deep and tortured, it came from just outside the screen door in back of the priest. He whipped around and saw Maia looking in at the room full of dead children. Her gaze moved up to Father Billy, but then down to his hand where he still held the blood-stained nail in his fist.
“Maia...,” Father Billy began, but as soon as he spoke, the girl turned around and ran away into the darkness of the camp.
“
No!”
he cried, then raced for the door. But by the time he ran out, Maia had already disappeared.
“Damn...”
The rain had stopped for the most part and the camp was now completely bathed in darkness, save for the lights in the classroom and one still glowing in the administrator’s cabin. Father Billy stormed to the dead center of the campsite, removing a second nail from his pocket and holding them both out in hands.
“Where are you?!” he roared into the night. “You run, you hide, you just make it harder on yourself!”
He looked all around, but saw no sign of the runaway girl. He was furious at having been caught. Another person who would have to die. But God put her there, didn’t He? If she’d just stayed wherever she’d been hiding. The diving platform.
The rain.
God had forced her to shore.
That’s when Father Billy sank to his knees, his hands falling dully at his sides, the nails tumbling into the mud. He thought about Douglas’s words, about Cindy’s, and about Mark’s and whether or not he put any stock in them. It
was
a miracle. He knew this. No tumor or hallucination. It couldn’t possibly be. But how could all of this have resulted from a
miracle?
He didn’t know the answer and his eyes began to throb even as he thought about them. What was worse, he didn’t feel one step closer to the truth than he had three months ago. Doubt, the killer of faith.
After a long moment, he finally reached down, picked up the nails and got back to his feet.
“Maia?
Faith?!
”
Father Billy had stalked around the perimeter of the camp site for almost twenty minutes before deciding the pair were in one of the camp buildings. He’d moved back towards the screened-in classroom and checked the mess hall first, looking under every table and bench, his dark silhouette shadowing over everything thanks to the rising moon. Frustrated, he kicked over a few of the benches, hoping the sound might spook the girls into rabbiting.
Girls, plural, of course. It had taken a few minutes, but he’d come to realize that if Maia was around, Faith must be, too. She hadn’t been with Cindy’s group or the prayer circle and he didn’t think her the type to strike out into the woods on her own. Anyway, she’d been on the diving platform with the purple-haired girl, so it was safe to say she was now here in camp.
“FAITH!!” he shouted, storming into the kitchen.
He opened cabinets, pushed aside the large mixing bowls and pieces of equipment just in case the girls had managed to squeeze back there, but then turned his attention to the walk-in refrigerator.
With one of the nails raised in case someone came flying out the second he opened it, he grabbed the steel latch and swung it wide — only to find it as empty as the mess hall.
“Shit,” he cursed.
He left the mess hall and scanned the dark woods beyond, wondering again if they were somewhere out there, but then began going cabin to cabin. In each, it was more of the same. He overturned bunks and tore through wardrobes. He searched cupboards and looked behind shelves. He considered the idea that they had somehow gotten under the cabins, but when he checked the crawl space grates, he found them rusted shut, so he quickly surrendered that idea.
When he came to Cabin 4, the smell of the place hit him before he even opened the door – well over twenty rotting corpses. He covered his face and imagined that if Maia and Faith were going to hide anywhere, it would be in here. He moved through the room, angrily pulling back the covers on the bodies – David, Judy, Leilani, Penny, Whit, etc. — many of whom looked badly bruised as the blood remaining in their bodies had pooled against their backs and extremities. The violence of misshapen necks, gouged eyes and broken limbs was that much more obvious against pale, bloodless skin and Father Billy had a hard time children could be to blame for their injuries.
The bodies were also beginning to bloat, likely aided by that afternoon’s heat working in concert with the rotting, partially-digested food in their stomachs. It disgusted him, but not so much the smell as, but again, the recurring belief that this was how little God cared about his people.
He made his way to the back of the cabin, but soon saw that neither Faith nor Maia were in this cabin, either. He looked out the window towards the parking lot, but knew that if they’d tried the road, there was very little he could do about it. He sat down hard in a nearby chair and was just about ready to decide that that’s what they’d done.
That’s when he looked down at the floor.
Faith and Maia had been hiding in the counselor’s cabin for the better part of an hour, but in opposite corners of the building. They had split up in case Father Billy came in and they needed to decoy him back out or something; the “something” being a hastily-made and instantly regretted agreement that if he caught one of them, the other wouldn’t stay and fight, but would run away as fast as they could and not stop. The only reason they hadn’t taken to the road before was because Father Billy seemed to have the ability to appear anywhere in the woods at any time. They figured he must have some other, hidden form of conveyance (a four-wheeler?) or simply a better knowledge of the woods than any of the campers. They hadn’t considered that it was more like good planning, exploiting a few short cuts and dumb luck, but they were in a heightened, paranoid state-of-mind.
They had first gone into the administrator’s cabin, but upon seeing Cindy’s burned-up body, which Faith initially believed meant that she had gotten caught up in the forest fire, but somehow made it back, they decided to go elsewhere.
“If she’s dead, that means we’re the last ones,” Maia had whispered.
“Mark and Phil...,” Faith replied hopefully.
“If they made it out, they would have called the police first thing,” Maia said. “We’d be rescued by now.”
Faith agreed, which led them to the counselor’s cabin. There were closets, cabinets, nooks and crannies galore and they prayed that Father Billy wouldn’t know all of them.
They’d easily found their respective hiding spots, Maia behind a hot water heater and Faith in a small, attic-like crawl space above what had been Cindy and Judy’s room and waited. It was just when Faith began thinking they were home free that the lights of the cabin snapped on and Father Billy called out to them.
“Faith and Maia,” he said, evenly. “I know you’re in here. I’m going to find you within seconds. I don’t expect you to believe me, but if you want to just come clean now, I’d like to talk to you both.”
Faith, tucked in a tight corner, held her breath, unsure what to do. She didn’t believe Father Billy, of course, but it sounded like he believed himself, which gave her pause. Regardless, she stayed perfectly still.
She strained to hear Father Billy’s footfalls, but he had gone still. She wondered if he’d left, but then he appeared in the doorway of the room she was in and she felt her heart leap into her throat.