Isaac stood before the remaining children of Gatlin, small face solemn. He was as pale as a ghost with dark, heavy circles under his eyes -- he had not slept well last night.
"The Lord has spoken to me," he said in a low, monotonous voice. "He has told me that he is displeased. He Who Walks Behind The Rows commands that we rid our houses of that which poisons our minds." The children watched in silence. Isaac's eyebrows twitched darkly; he looked down at the watchful faces and continued. "That is why I have had these things brought to me." A pale hand was motioned towards the pile behind him. It was a small mountain of objects: dolls, teddy bears, board games, records, radios, videos, coloring books, crayons, paperbacks. Malachai stood beside the heap, a torch in hand.
"The Lord commands the cleansing," he said softly, and lapsed back into silence. Even Malachai was pale under his freckles.
"And so it shall be," Isaac murmured. Malachai nodded, then tossed the torch onto the mountain of possessions. They began to blaze almost immediately; doll dresses went up in flame, teddy bears turned black. Everyone stared at the fiery pile for one long, awed moment. Then Isaac waved a hand at them. "Go now. The Lord must ponder this sacrifice." The children turned around and, in silence, filed out of the clearing. Amos approached Malachai and Isaac, who continued staring at the mountain of flame.
"Isaac," Amos murmured.
"Yes?" He slowly turned to look at the boy, who held a cardboard box towards him.
"I brought you the things you asked for." Isaac shot Malachai a glance. The redhead took the box from Amos.
"You may go," Isaac said evenly. Amos obeyed. There was a long, awkward silence as the objects burned and crackled. At last, when it was certain that they were the only two in the field, Isaac spoke again. "Show me what he found." Malachai dug through the box obediently.
"A toy truck, a few picture books, some cassette tapes..." He tossed each object in the fire as he named it. "Coloring books, markers, and a book--"
"Wait!" Isaac reached out towards Malachai and snagged his wrist before he could toss the book into the fire. "Let me see." He took the paperback from Malachai -- it was The Picture of Dorian Gray. A sob caught in his throat.
"Shall I burn that, too?" asked Malachai softly. Isaac shook his head.
"No," he murmured, and turned away from the fire. "No, I'll take this one."
"Yes, Isaac." Malachai stood there in silence for a moment. "What shall I do about the children in the barn?"
"Leave them alone." Isaac paused. "See that they get food every now and then." Malachai nodded.
"Yes, Isaac." He hesitated, glancing at the fire. "Shall I go now?" Isaac stared at the paperback book, stroking the cover lovingly.
"Yes," he whispered, eyes not leaving the book. "Leave me." Malachai didn't say any more; he left the cornfield in silence. Isaac stared at the paperback for a long time before he finally let out a shaky sigh. "I did what you wanted," he whispered to the night air. "I followed every order. Everything you asked, I obeyed. And I asked only one thing of you -- that you keep Rebekah safe and make her see that I love her." Isaac glared at the ground bitterly. "And you could do neither." He paused. "There is no reason that I should continue to be your tool. But there is also no reason that I should continue to live." Isaac lowered the book. "What's stopping me from jumping in there with the rest of the 'poisonous' things?" He closed his eyes and tilted his head, listening briefly to the silence. "The fact that you'll only find some way to turn it against me. Yes, I know that." Isaac exhaled slowly, deeply. "I am yours to command, O Lord -- but I will never forget this. It was not Rebekah who betrayed me, it was you." He swallowed back tears and let the book fall into the flames. "I love you, Rebekah," he murmured, and walked slowly towards the center of town. The fire had to be put out before it spread to the corn. In the flames, Dorian Gray's pages slowly curled, turned black, and vanished.
Isaac's Gatlin was under control once again.