Wow…okay, sorry about the big delay. My life is just getting more and more chaotic every day! But I'm back now! Here's the rest of chapter 4!
Ignoring the spacemen, the two drove in silence for a while. Burt began whistling "Singin' in the Rain" as if they were just going to drive for miles and miles, as if they had nothing in the trunk of their car that required tending to.
"Um, Burt..?
"Mmmmmmmmmyes?"
"Burt, dear, do you know where we are?"
"Ah…not really, no."
"Oh. Okay." They didn't speak for a long time after that. But at long last, Vicky broke the silence by saying, "You know, honey, there is another possibility."
"And that is?" asked Burt, driving right past a gas station.
"We could stop and ask for directions," suggested the woman. The car came to a screeching halt, and Burt turned to scowl at Vicky.
"Ask…for directions? ASK FOR DIRECTIONS?! HAVE YOU ANY IDEA HOW AGAINST MY RELIGION THAT IS?"
"Burt, what religion are we talking about here?"
"GUY-ism! Guys DON'T ask for directions! Don't you know the 5 Laws of Being a Guy?"
"Uh…of course not, dearest."
"Well, here they are: Thou Shall Not Ask for Directions, Thou Shall Not Cuddle, Thou Shall Choose the TV Remote Control Above All Else, Thou Shall Wear Nothing But Undergarments whilst Mowing the Lawn, AND--"
"Honey, I'm not sure I want to hear the last one." Burt seemed offended, but Vicky didn't care as she muttered the word "freak" under her breath.
* * *
"Okay now, Malachai, since you're out of jail, please explain to me just one thing: how could you ever fall for a stupid trick like that?!" bellowed Isaac. "They're little kids!"
"I didn't wanna sit there and argue with them though. I hate them enough as it is…" Then Malachai stopped and shut himself up. He didn't want to keep bad mouthing them. I think I hate them, he thought, I mean--games are forbidden. But why am I doubting what I'm saying?
"Malachai Boardman!"
"Aaah! What?!" Malachai was startled out of his thoughts by another harsh cry from his preacher.
"Do you have anything to say for your fat-headed foolishness?" Isaac interrogated his red-haired disciple. The disciple sighed and paced across the floor a little. He looked around the room, then to Isaac and stared him straight in the face and said, "No, Isaac, I do not. Except for two things. Number one: I may in fact be a fool, but at least my hairstyle isn't outdated and slicked with grease to the point where it looks and feels like a bucket of worms. And number two: my head is NOT fat, gravity just likes it better."
"Malachai, stop being an idiot-"
"I know you are but, what am I?" the eighteen-year-old cackled maniacally as Isaac leapt at him and chased him back into the cornfield.
~*~*~And since you've been so patient and I feel so guilty, here's Chapter 5! Also, quick question--I lost my AOL e-mail address, so now I only have my writing.com one. Do any of you know how I can change it so that I can get reviews, etc. on my other one? E-mail me at Slainte@writing.com if you can help me.~*~*~
Chapter 5
"A dream did come to me last night as I lay sleeping amongst the corn," announced Isaac mysteriously.
"My, God--a dream? Last night while you were…sleeping?!?!??! Why EVER would you have a dream THEN?!" Malachai sprang to his feet with a sarcastic expression of awe across his bright face. "I mean, HONESTLY-"
"Malachai…" said Isaac. He had meant to say it as a threatening growl, but it came out more on the concerned-parent side. "Malachai, I think you and I need to have a little talk after this." And Isaac went on to explain to the rest of the children how Joseph had betrayed them and about how two outlanders were going to be coming into their town. It was then when off to his left, Malachai spotted Sarah and Job creeping into the clearing.
He sat there staring at them for a while. They did not seem to notice, which was probably a good thing. He had an odd feeling deep in the back of his mind; part of him wanted to go over there and beat the crap out of the little sacrilegious brats, but there was another part of him that just wanted to play with them…to let Sarah win at "Checkers" again…to help Job with his math homework, then take him for a treat at Hanson's…
"Malachai Boardman!" At the sound of the angered yell, the red-head jumped about three feet and whipped around to see Isaac standing in the centre of the Clearing, which was other wise empty.
"Oh--uh, sorry-"
"Malachai, what's going on?" Isaac interrogated. He took a few steps toward his follower, who was lying on the ground supported by his arms.
"What do you mean, Isaac?"
"I mean, what's wrong with you? Malachai…" Isaac knelt down beside his friend and turned his head so that the two were face to face. "Malachai, you're not all that happy, are you?" Malachai glanced at Isaac as if to tell him that he had no idea what he was talking about, but Malachai wasn't fooling anybody. Apparently, Isaac was aware that Malachai had no longer cared to pay full attention to the sermons. He also noticed that Malachai wasn't spending as much time in the corn; he always seemed to be wandering off, and that's why he'd always catch Sarah and Job who never seemed to be in the corn anymore either.
"Malachai, you still have another year before you reach the age of favour. You can still back out of this. But if you sincerely no longer wish to be one of us…" Isaac trailed off. Malachai didn't answer. It had been three full years since he'd killed his own parents…since he killed the kind, elderly man at the ice cream shop who always gave the kids free ice cream…since he assisted in the ruin of so many lives. It didn't seem right, him backing out now, especially after he had been the one doing most of the killing. But he had this strange, rather obnoxious doubt in the back of his mind…he sensed that a horrible tragedy was at hand.
"Malachai," Isaac said softly, "Malachai, you know what I will have to do to you if you decide you do not want to be with us."
"Yes…you have to kill me." The two sat in silence for a short while, Malachai absorbing their surroundings. I wish that we had never done this, he thought. Just look at all the lives I've ruined, including mine. How did I ever fall for Isaac's shit? He looked around at the corn and breathed in the bittersweet smell of autumn. He certainly wouldn't miss the corn, but he would miss the peace. When there weren't sacrifices and Passages going on, everyone and everything moved slowly, there was no need for rush.
Then it hit him. If Malachai were to die, then there was no hope for Sarah, Job, or any of the others who felt the same way. Wanting to die would have been selfish of him. But he had something else in mind already.
"How long will you give me to make my decision?" Malachai asked.
"Until tonight, when Amos leaves."
"Right." And Malachai stalked off, not to consider being brutally sacrificed by having his organs torn out and offered to the god by Isaac, but to think of a plan of action once and for all.
~*~*~*~You know what? I'm on a roll! Here's some more!~*~*~*~
Chapter 6
"Burt, aside from three teenagers we found trying to stuff corn in through the windows of our car, this place is deserted! We've been all over the town twice now, and there's no point in beating a dead horse!"
"There's no point any sort of horse, dead or alive, Vicky. It's cruel. But I think I saw that door over there swing shut." Burt pulled into the driveway of a washed-out yellow house that looked about 50 years old. They got out and walked warily up the front porch steps, careful of the rotting oak wood.
"Hello?" Burt said, knocking a few times. "Is anyone home? We've got a dead kid in our trunk-"
"Burt!" rasped Vicky angrily.
"What? It's true!"
"I know it's true, but come on!"
So Burt thought about it, then called out again.
"We'd like to use your phone! We have a slight emergency…nothing big, though…we were nowhere near the road when the kid got hit…but not that it was a kid…we wouldn't know, because we weren't there…" Burt shot Vicky a sideways glance, and she nodded her head in approval. But no one answered Burt's call.
"Hello?" Vicky tried. No answer.
"Alright, this is the FBI! Drop your weapons, open the door, and put your hands in the air!" And to Vicky and Burt's amazement, the creaky screen door slowly opened to display a little, girl, no older than eight, standing in the doorway to what looked like a ravaged living room. An oversized, plain, navy-blue dress hung loosely around the girl's small frame, a faded periwinkle collared shirt finishing off what could have been attire for Sunday church. Crayons were scattered around her booted feet. From her appearance, the two adults began to think that this was an Amish community, and they felt bad about intruding and acting so rashly.
"Can I take my hands down now, please?" the girl asked meekly but politely.
"Of course you can, sweety," replied Vicky, entering the house. The girl backed up with each step Vicky took.
"We're sorry if we scared you," Burt apologized, "but we need to talk to an adult."
"There aren't many of those around here," the girl informed them. "If you can find anyone in the cornfield to talk to, you're in big trouble, though." Vicky had no clue what the girl was talking about, but she went ahead and introduced herself and her boyfriend, soon discovering that the little girl was called Sarah.
"Like I said," the girl continued, "if you actually find anybody to talk to, it's probably a bad thing."
"Vicky," Burt said shakily and getting up from his seat on the bed, "I'm gonna go look in the town hall--this kid's freakin' me out." He walked out of the room and back out the front door.
"ALRIGHT! THIS IS THE FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION! IF I DON'T SEE SOME PEOPLE OUT HERE IN FIVE SECONDS, THERE'S GONNA BE HELL TO PAY!" is what Sarah and Vicky heard from the street in front of the house.
"Vicky, is he crazy?" Sarah asked.
"Yes."
"Do you love him?" Long pause.
"Yes," Vicky sighed, smiling. "So…" she drawled, "what are you doing up here that's so secret?" Sarah didn't' answer, instead just shifted her eyes to the floor. "Come on, you can tell me!"
"I'm building a nuclear warhead," the girl finally replied.
"Well, what's so secret about that?" inquired the woman.
"I'm not supposed to."
"Who says?"
"The government. And Isaac and Malachai, but I can handle them."
"Who are Isaac and Malachai?" What strange names, Vicky thought.
"Malachai used to be our friend. He was my brother's math tutor for a while, but then…" Sarah glanced at the blueprints for her bomb and began to cry.
"Then what, honey?" Vicky wiped away the girl's tears and looked her straight in her large green eyes.
"Then He Who Walks Behind The Rows made himself known to Isaac. Isaac thought it was a good idea. He was only twelve at the time, but he was a child preacher so everybody believed him. He commanded that all the adults be…that they should be--" But Sarah was too upset to finish her sentence. On instinct, Vicky held the little girl and caressed her hair, saying, "Don't you worry about a thing. I'm here now." However, Sarah ceaselessly cried in protest, "No, they'll find us! I'm in big trouble!" Vicky was troubled…but not nearly troubled enough. For all of a sudden, Sarah's crying came to a halt, her eyes widened and darter to the window, her ears seemed to have picked up something inaudible to Vicky.
"Someone's coming," Sarah said.
