Disclaimer: The Stand and all its characters belong to Stephen King.

Part Four: September 1990

Extra Disclaimer: Many of the lines for this portion of the chapter are taken directly from the book. It was another very important scene and I felt that it shouldn't be tampered with too much.

Chapter Thirteen: Part Two

By seven o'clock, everyone had gathered in the hospital room shared by Mother Abagail Freemantle and Fran Goldsmith. The Doctor had left the room. And Mother Abagail had awoken, her eyes unchanged. They were warm and kind, and humble. She was half sitting up, with a pillow propped behind her. She was nothing more than skin and bone, and her breathing was dry and shallow. The IV needle stuck halfway out of her skin, simply because there was no other place for it to go. Maggie stood in the left corner of the room, near Frannie's bed. Frannie was also sort of sitting, her back resting on Stu's chest as he sat behind her on the bed. She'd taken some painkillers, and was feeling a little better. Larry stood at the end of Mother Abagail's bed with his arm around Lucy's waist. Ralph and Glen sat in chairs against the wall that was opposite the beds. There was silence at first, then Mother Abagail turned straight to Fran, in the bed on her left.

"You're quick with child," Mother Abagail whispered. Her voice still had the rasp, the one that reminded Maggie of an old crackling fire in that moment. She remembered kissing Nick by the fire, and pushed the memory away. She stared at Mother Abagail unflinchingly.

"Yes...how…" Frannie began.

"Shhhhh…" Mother Abagail said. "But you're pain. Look out the window."

Frannie did. She saw before her a nursery scene, instead of the evening Boulder sky. There was a crib, a mobile with planets and stars above it. A high chair and a changing table, along with a big rocking chair. They were all blue, and they were all empty. Frannie realized the emptiness in sudden horror, and felt as though a strong gust of cold wind had brushed past her, blowing her hair back and taking her breath away. Soon, though, the vision melted away. The empty nursery slowly dematerialized back into the hospital parking lot. She turned to Mother Abagail with a little gasp, and discovered that the pain was gone. Everywhere. Her back, her throat, her neck, her head. It was not only dulled, but had disappeared completely. Her face drained of color and her eyes filled with tears. Stu's grasp tightened around Frannie's hands.

"How did….Where's the baby?" Frannie asked hoarsely.

"Stuart is not the baby's father, little girl. But his life is in Stuart and God's hands. If it is to survive, it will have two fathers-"

"If?" Frannie interrupted.

"I'm not in the way of knowing that," Mother Abagail said, waving her trembling hand a little in dismissal. Frannie was speechless, still stunned by her new lack of pain.

"Gone," was all Frannie managed to mutter.

"What, hon?" Stu asked.

"The whiplash...the pain…the pain is gone."

A silence filled the room, everyone waiting for someone to continue the conversation. Frannie was looking at her hands almost as if she were high, still in shock. Everyone else looked at the floor in embarrassment and dread, except for Maggie. She continued to stare towards Mother Abagail, and almost wasn't surprised when Mother Abagail turned suddenly to lock eyes with her. Maggie's cheeks heated up, her stomach did a flip, and she nervously tucked her wavy hair behind her ears.

"You, too, are in pain," Mother Abagail said softly. Maggie said nothing, and her gaze never wavered.

"The thought of giving up has occurred to you. To go home to glory. To take yourself. But you are selfish and a coward. You too, sin in pride. Your faith has been tested, and you retreat. It is shameful," Mother Abagail whispered in slight disgust. Maggie felt her anger rising, but knew it was no use. It seemed her time for self pity was going to need to be over. She had to get back to the new real world.

"But, the Lord forgives, and so does Abby Freemantle. You, child, shine harder than anyone I ever saw. You can see a light that I cannot, and you've always known what is to come."

Maggie put a hand over her mouth, but still did not speak. Mother Abagail looked away from her, letting her eyes wander over all of those in the room.

"Mother, father, wife, husband," Mother Abagail said. "Set against them, the Prince of High Places, the lord of dark mornings. I sinned in pride, and so have you all. Ain't you it said, put not your faith in the lords and princes of this world?"

This question was answered with silence. They all watched her intently.

"Electric lights ain't the answer, Stu Redman. CB radio ain't it either, Ralph Brentner. Sociology won't end it, Glen Bateman. And you doin' penance for a life that's long since closed it's book won't stop it from comin', Larry Underwood. And your child won't stop it either, Fran Goldsmith. The bad moon has risen. You propose nothing in the sight of God."

Mother Abagail once again looked around, her eyes lingering a little longer on Maggie. She had finally figured out the something about Maggie: it was the shine. The shining light of God. That girl had practically all of it in her. Maggie stared back into Mother Abagail's ancient face, a face that had seen enough for ten lifetimes. Mother Abagail smiled a little, but a pit of despair rested coolly within her. Then her eyes continued to survey the room, a small tear rolling down her dry, leathery cheek.

"God disposes as He sees fit. You are not the potter, but merely the potter's clay. Mayhap the man in the West is the wheel on which you will be broken. I am not allowed to know."

Ralph moved forward, his head feeling a draft with his lack of hat. He sat down on Mother Abagail's bedside, clutching her bony, cold fingers in his own.

"What should we do, Mother?" he asked desperately.

Mother Abagail let out a long, whistley sigh. "God didn't bring you folks together to make a committee or a community. He brought you this far only to send you further, on a quest. He means for you to try and destroy this Dark Prince, the Man of Far Leagues."

(You ain't seen the devil yet.)

She will die on the wrong side of the river. Maggie remembered sharply from Tom's hypnosis, immediately causing her eyes to sting with tears. God, did she miss Tom. And Nick. She wished for that first week they were traveling, just the three of them. Hadn't times been simpler then? Her stomach churned again as she remembered, and she let out a little shudder. Nobody noticed.

"I thought it was Nick and Maggie to lead you," Mother Abagail continued. "But He's taken Nick-although not all of Nick is gone yet, it seems to me. No, not at all. And you can't have one of 'em without the other. It is not Maggie either. The Irish Catholic who shines. She will stay, but she will also play a part. She always has. Perhaps even the biggest part. But you must lead, Stuart. And if it's His will to take Stu, then you must lead, Larry. And if He takes you, it falls to Ralph."

"Looks like I'm riding drag again," Glen said, "What-"

"Lead?" Frannie interrupted coldly. "Lead where?"

"Why, west, little girl," Mother Abagail said simply. "West. You're not to go. Only these four."

"No!" Frannie said, wanting to spring to her feet. Stu's arms restrained her. He whispered soothing words in her ear to try to calm her.

"Frannie's right. She needs Stu here," Maggie said, feeling for Frannie's situation. "I can go in Stu's place. After all, you said I could play the biggest part. Maybe this is the part I'm meant to play."

"Oh, no," Ralph said, shaking his head softly and looking up from Mother Abagail's bedside to face her. "That is no place for a woman."

Maggie's brows furrowed, her eyes narrowing. She took a step forward out of the corner, fire in her eyes. She had had about enough of the sexism in the old world and the new world. That was one of the things she had loved about Nick, he saw her as an equal.

"Excuse me?!" Maggie exclaimed. "I shot and killed a fucking soldier, Ralph! Long before I was with anyone, so I think I'm pretty damn good at taking care of myself by now! I don't need Nick with me, I can do a fan-fucking-tastic job leading the way, as long as Stu can stay here with Fran and the baby."

"Honey," Mother Abagail said from her spot on the bed. She remembered the vibes she had gotten from Maggie on that first night, and felt they rang true now more than ever. She knows when to fight.

Maggie's eyes shot to Mother Abagail, her cheeks heating up in frustration.

"You would be the one to lead, Maggie, if the Lord had taken Nick completely. And he may be on his way out, but he sure ain't there yet. I'm in the way of knowing that without you here, he ain't never gonna come back from where he is. I've not been told if he ever will, but without you here, there ain't no chance. And I know that you know this is the way. I know you can feel it."

Maggie crept back against the wall, her hand over her mouth again, stifling a soft sob. It was just too hard. They couldn't go West! He was there, the dark man. And he wasn't human.

(His name is Legion and he is the king of nowhere.)

(Nowhere man, the world is at your command.)

But, in a way, just like Mother Abagail had said, she knew this was the way. It was the only way, and it was the path they had been on since deciding to travel to Nebraska in the first place. Maybe even before that. Maybe always.

"WHAT ARE YOU SAYING?" Frannie exclaimed, her eyes blazing. "That the four of them are just supposed to deliver themselves in his hands? So he can just hang them on crosses and then just walk over here next summer and kill everyone? No. I won't see Stu or anyone else sacrificed to your killer God. Fuck Him."

"Frannie!" Stu gasped. The rest just watched her, marveling at the outburst. But Maggie still stood with her hand over her mouth, tears rolling silently down her cheeks. She stared at the yellowing hospital floor. She understood, she understood exactly what Frannie was feeling. She had felt it too. They all had. But, she also knew that Mother Abagail was right. To Maggie, everything was now finally starting to make sense. She could finally begin to see the meaning in the dreams. At least, the ones from before the bombing.

"Killer God! Killer God!" Frannie spat, raving. "Billions dead in plague, and millions more after! We don't even know if the children will live. Isn't He done yet? Does it just have to go on and on until the Earth belongs to the rats and the roaches?"

Maggie shivered. (He's everywhere, in the snakes, and the weasels. And the rats.)

"He's no God," Frannie continued. "He's a demon, and you're his witch."

"Little girl."

"DON'T CALL ME THAT!"

After Fran's eruption, silence once again fell in the room. Maggie's hand still over her mouth, and her eyes glassy. She looked to Frannie sympathetically. She wished for Nick. He would go. He would go with her to Vegas and stand with her in the face of the dark man. His real face. He would probably die, but he would die with honor. Not after six months of being a vegetable, only to have the plug pulled on him. It didn't seem right. The death was not equal to the man. Not in Maggie's eyes.

Fran sat fuming, her cheeks red with anger and her heart thudding rapidly in her chest. She sat up straighter, and looked around. They all looked so broken. So old. Larry's eyes were dark and stormy, the glee was gone from Ralph's face, along with the hat from his head. Glen's hair was now all the way gone, and Stu's brown beard had little silver whiskers appearing in it. Lucy's face was sallow, and dark circles hung below her eyes in eerie half moons. Maggie's tendons showed plainly under her thin layer of skin, her collar bones protruded sharply, and she was visibly shaking. It was the skeleton crew. The special skeleton crew, Frannie thought and almost giggled.

"Stu isn't going West," Fran said matter-of-factly, turning back to Mother Abagail. Maggie scoffed a little, her eyes filling with tears. She covered her face with both hands, trying not to sob. They were going to go, they had to. She could almost see it, those four men walking along a desolate road. Into the mouth of a wolf. Maggie felt like she had nothing left inside her except tears, like she was lost at sea.

"Fran. Just stop. Please just let her talk and we'll listen to what she has to see," Stu said softly. His jaw was tense. Frannie sighed angrily through her nose, but nodded. She deflated against Stu, still in slight shock that the pain from the whiplash was gone.

"You are to go West," Mother Abagail said quietly. "You are to take no food, no water. You are to go this very day, and in the clothes you now wear. You are to go on foot. I am in the knowing way that one of you will not reach your destination, one will fall. But I don't know which of you it is to be. I am also in the way of knowing that the rest will be taken before this man Flagg, who is not a man at all but a supernatural being. I don't know if it's God's will for you to defeat him. I don't know if it's God's will for you to ever see Boulder again. That is not for me to see. But he is in Las Vegas, and you must go there. It is there that you will make your stand. You will go, and you will not falter. Yes. With God's will, and your own, you will stand."

There was momentary silence.

"That's it," Mother Abagail croaked. "I've said m'piece."

Frannie shook her head slowly, her hands clutching Stu's.

"Mother," Glen said. He sounded weary. He was an old man, but he had to be part of it. "We're not 'in the way of understanding,' if you see what I mean. We're not...blessed by the closeness to you. We're not connected to whatever is controlling all this in the way that you are. If we go there….go West…we'll likely just be slaughtered, by the first pickets we come to."

"Have you no eyes?" Mother Abagail asked incredulously. "You've just seen Fran healed by the hand of God, through me. And through a vision." She glanced at Maggie, whose head was still in her hands, and then looked back to Glen. "Do you think his plan for you is to just be shot down by one of this Dark Prince's minions?"

"But, Mother-"

"No," she raised her hand to him. "It's not my place to argue with you. Or to convince you. It's only to put you in the way of understanding God's plan. Listen."

And suddenly, the voice of Glen Bateman arose from Mother Abagail's scrawny, withered throat. All the mouths in the room hung open. Maggie didn't remember when she'd heard him say those things, maybe at one of the committee meetings, but she knew it was his voice.

"Mother Abagail calls him the devil's pawn," the robust voice said from Mother Abagail's wasted chest and toothless mouth,. "Maybe he's just the last magician of rational thought, gathering the tools of technology against us. Maybe he's something more, something darker. I only know that he is. And I no longer think that sociology or psychology, or any other ology will put a stop to him. I think only pure magic will do it. Good magic, our magic."

Glen Bateman gaped at her.

"Is that a true thing or are those the words of a liar?" Mother Abagail asked with her eyes narrowed.

"I don't know if it's true or correct, but I know those are my words," Glen replied shakily.

"Trust. All of you...trust. Larry...Ralph...Glen...Maggie...Stu...Frannie. Most partic'lary Frannie. Trust and obey the word of the Lord."

"Do we have a choice?" Larry asked bitterly. His eyes were watery, but he spoke the words through gritted teeth. His arm was held securely around Lucy's waist.

Mother Abagail's eyes lit up in surprise, and she even chuckled a little. It was an ancient sound, and it made Maggie cringe. It felt like everything was ending. Again. She lifted her head from her hands finally, her cheeks flushed.

"A choice? There's always a choice. That's God's way, always will be. Your will is still free, and you should do as you will. But...this is what God wants of you."

Frannie's right. Fuck God, Maggie thought venomously, and instantly regretted it. She had to stop kidding herself, this is what was in the stars. This was it. It was always that way.

"The Bible says David managed to do the job on Goliath," Ralph chimed in. "I'll go if you think it's right, Mother."

"Me...m-me too," Larry said, putting a hand to his forehead as if it ached. Glen opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off my a deep, heavy sigh. Lucy went limp in Larry's arms. She had fainted.