Summary/Important Information: This is a reworking of my six-year-old piece "Isaac's Gatlin"

Summary/Important Information: This is a reworking of my six-year-old piece "Isaac's Gatlin". The plot will stick pretty closely to the old one but I reserve the right to take creative liberties here and there. This takes place up to a year before Burt and Vicky come through Gatlin.

Chapter III

The Wisdom of Malachai

Jed was hiding somewhere, he just had to find him.

Micah darted back and forth between the summer corn, the stalks still fresh and green enough that it didn't scrape his face when he pushed through. He had to be careful; there were a lot of ways to get hurt in the field. Mordechai had said he was too old to play hide and seek with them, but he had a nasty habit of waiting out of sight until someone ran by so he could grab their ankles and watch them fall. Once Micah had been prey to such a trap and fell so hard his palms felt bruised. He wanted to tell Rebekah but Mordechai said only babies told, so he kept his mouth shut and proved that he wasn't a baby. He was wary of Mordechai now.

He thought he heard Jed giggle to his left, so Micah took a sharp turn and pumped his legs harder, feeling the sweat trickle down his back. It was already so hot, Becky had been right about that, but he was still dressed all in black – Isaac had given him the clothes, smaller versions of what he himself wore, things that no longer fit him. Micah didn't care that they were hand-me-downs. He got to look just like Isaac, something no one else did. Isaac had told him he was special – he said it was a great honor to be so blessed, and while Micah didn't really understand what he meant he knew it was a good thing. Isaac thought he was blessed. And he visited every morning.

Micah paused to wipe the sweat from his forehead, heard another laugh suppressed beneath a hand, and took off running again. He glimpsed a plaid shirt slipping through the corn just a few feet ahead.

"I'm gonna get you!" Micah shouted gleefully, took another swift turn to cut Jed off at the pass, and somehow ended up on his behind.

"Good morning, young Micah." Isaac stood above him, a shock of black against the late summer sky. Micah shook his head, the wind knocked out of him a bit, and then smiled eagerly up at his leader.

"Good morning, brother Isaac!" he chirped. He couldn't help but grin, it was like a wonderful surprise. Isaac smiled calmly down at him and extended a hand to help him up. Micah took it, pulling himself to his feet. "I'm sorry, I was just runnin' so fast –"

"Do not apologize," Isaac said pleasantly. "You are young. It is a good day to play outside." His gaze flicked past him to the edge of the cornfield; Micah twisted to see Jedediah standing there, a troubled expression on his face. "Good morning, Jedediah," Isaac called, and waved merrily at him. Jed nodded but didn't move.

"Yeah, it's a great day!" Micah piped up, eager to have Isaac's attention back on him. "Do you want to come play? We're hiding and seeking!" The older boy looked down and shook his head, smiling with adult patience.

"There are things to which I must attend," he said kindly, and Micah drooped a little. But he didn't want to look like a baby, so he pouted for only a moment before brightening.

"Oh, okay, I understand. You've got a very important job." He nodded in what he hoped was a mature way.

"That's right, Micah," Isaac agreed, and patted him gently on the head. He winced immediately and returned his hand to his right shoulder. Micah frowned.

"What's wrong, brother Isaac?"

"Oh, nothing," he assured him, rubbing his shoulder gingerly. "It will heal." Isaac paused, then smiled again – a large, strange smile that Micah didn't really like. It didn't really look like a smile. "Your sister is quite a spitfire, isn't she?"

"What's that mean?" Micah asked, but Isaac waved him off like he was batting at a fly.

"Nevermind." He patted him on the head again. "If you'll excuse me, I need to speak with Malachai," he murmured thoughtfully, then leaned down to Micah as if he had a secret to share. "Will you be coming to the meeting tonight?"

"Of course!" Micah blurted, a little too eagerly, but Isaac continued to smile his strange smile.

"Good," he said softly, and straightened, his lips spreading into an even wider grin. He shot a look at Jedediah, who was still perched anxiously at the edge of the cornfield. "Very good. I shall see you tonight then." Isaac turned on his heel and began walking away without waiting for a reply.

"Bye, Isaac!" Micah called after him, waving emphatically. Isaac's visits were always so exciting. He was such an important guy.

"Micah," Jed called suddenly, his voice tense. "Come play."

"Coming," he answered, and looked back for Isaac. He was already gone. Well, he was busy, so it was to be expected –

"You're IT!" screamed Mordechai, tackling him hard from the side. Micah stumbled, nearly losing his footing, and tried to pretend he wasn't startled.

"You weren't even playing!" His heart was pounding in his chest; when he looked up to accuse Mordechai of being a bully, Micah spotted his sister's face in the window of their kitchen. She looked worried.

"Mordechai, don't," he heard Jed cry, and they both took off. Micah didn't have time to think about his sister – besides, she always looked worried these days – so he darted through the rows, stealthy as always. The game was afoot.

The sun was high in the pale summer sky when Rebekah left the house. It was muggy outside, the air thick and wet with the kind of heat only found in the early days of August. She lifted her blonde hair off the back of her neck, already regretting her choice to leave it down. It would get hotter before anything else.

She found Malachai brooding in the barn.

"Craig," Rebekah said, hesitating in the doorway. She didn't want to startle him, but it didn't seem she had, because he lifted a lightly freckled hand and waved it carelessly her way.

"Try again, Rebekah," he said boredly. Malachai was sprawled in the hay, his legs crossed idly as he stared with disinterest at the wooden rafters. She pursed her lips, frustrated, then forced a thin smile.

"Malachai," she corrected. He tilted his head back so he could see her, albeit upside-down, and grinned.

"Much better. You forget so often." Malachai gestured aimlessly at the thick piles of hay around him. "Sit. Or are you looking for Isaac?" A laugh escaped her throat, and Rebekah herself was surprised to hear how cold it sounded.

"Wow, Malachai, you are hilarious," she said sarcastically, making no move to sit.

"So I've been told." Malachai observed her unblinkingly from his hay pile. His upside-down gaze was making her uncomfortable. Rebekah shifted her weight from foot to foot, then sighed irritably. The barn was stuffy.

"It's fucking hot in here, Craig," she snapped, then frowned at his heavy jeans and thick flannel shirt. The boy wasn't even sweating. "Christ, are you from the South Pole or something? Do you come from penguins? It's like 90 degrees outside and this barn is the fucking furnace of Hell." Malachai laughed suddenly, his voice echoing in the high rafters.

"Rebekah!" he chuckled, genuinely amused. "That mouth! I thought cursing like that went out in middle school."

"If that's true," she said coolly, fanning her face with her hand, "it doesn't matter anyway. School's sort of 'out for summer', wouldn't you say?"

"You've got a point there." Malachai picked up a piece of hay and began fiddling with it absently. "Sit, the blood's rushing to my head looking at you like this." Reluctantly, she moved farther into the barn and opted for an overturned bucket as a seat. He shifted to see her better and she noted that his face was an ugly flush of red. She wrinkled her nose lightly in distaste but Malachai didn't notice.

"I didn't just come here to sweat my ass off, Malachai," Rebekah said, twisting up her long hair and holding it with one hand to keep it off her neck. "I've been having a bit of trouble lately. I wanted to talk to you about it."

"Well, I'm honored," he said pleasantly. He rolled the piece of hay between his thumb and forefinger, his eyes drifting up to the ceiling again. "Go on. What sort of trouble could you get into in this place?" Rebekah shot him a dark look, and Malachai smirked. "Besides the obvious, of course."

"It's Isaac," she said bluntly. He seemed to become more interested; the redhead propped himself up on his elbows, placing the hay between his lips to chew on. Suddenly embarrassed, Rebekah faltered. "He's, uh, well… he's been coming around a lot lately."

"He visits every morning," Malachai urged gently. He already knew.

"Yeah, he does." The bucket she sat on was uncomfortable. Rebekah shifted a few times, then gave up and collapsed in the hay a foot or two from Malachai. It was hot and scratchy, but at least it didn't make her ass fall asleep. "And he used to come for Micah. Well, at least, I thought he did. Now he comes earlier and earlier. He… he seems like he's trying to get me alone."

"Did he catch you in your nightie?" Rebekah dropped the hair twisted tightly in her fist, her mouth flapping open stupidly. Malachai snickered, apparently pleased to catch her so off-guard. "I'm just saying," he chuckled, "that a boy his age… it's not hard to figure out his intentions."

"A boy your age, Malachai," Rebekah countered. She pursed her lips. "So are those your intentions too? Because I'm hanging by a fucking thread here. I need to know that while we're having this very serious conversation you're not picturing me naked or looking down my shirt like that little fucking creep."

"Can't blame him," Malachai mused, and held up his hands in defense as Rebekah threw a handful of straw at his face. "All right, all right, no naked-picturing here. But I'm not sure what you expect me to do for you."

"Aren't you two like the best of friends? You follow him wherever he goes."

"I do not," he spat heatedly, shooting up from his languid position. She raised an eyebrow.

"My my, what a touchy subject!" Rebekah grinned as Malachai sank back down to his elbows sullenly. "So we're in agreement. Neither one of us wants to be Isaac's right hand… anything." She gave a heavy sigh and wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. "Now listen. Really. Attraction would be one thing, but this kid… well... you know what he did. We all know. So we know what he's capable of."

They both sat for a moment in silence.

"I'm scared, Malachai," she said at last. He chomped thoughtfully on his piece of hay for another long pause.

"It wasn't just Isaac," Malachai murmured. His fingers played through the straw beneath him, restless. "You know that. He didn't touch a weapon. He didn't act alone." He looked up at her with large, dark eyes. "I played quite a part in it too, if you remember correctly."

"Yes." Rebekah shifted uncomfortably and wiped her forehead again, her eyes averted. "I remember." He was deft with a scythe, she knew that for sure, and his favorite weapon – a long, sharp hunting knife – stayed close at his side, regardless of his amiable nature.

"But Isaac is our leader," Malachai offered, apparently eager to guide her attention away from his unusual talent, "and you're afraid of what he can do if you refuse him."

"Yes," she said again, but this time she was enthusiastic, her head bobbing up and down in agreement. "I mean, how will I know that if I keep refusing him – that he won't – well… you know?" Rebekah shrugged her shoulders helplessly. He gave her a slow nod, his gaze focused on the rafters above her.

"Yeah. I know." Malachai chuckled for no apparent reason and shifted, his body leaning towards hers. "You have no guarantee he won't snap. None at all. He has the faith of this whole fucking town behind him, and part of me even knows that he has far more power than he's shown us yet." She stiffened a little as he paused, thinking, then reached for her hand. His freckled fingers touched hers and Rebekah felt something cold slither through her. "Be careful," Malachai warned.

"I have to go," she mumbled, getting clumsily to her feet. Malachai grasped her arm firmly before she could leave.

"I'm serious. You can't keep mouthing off and treating him however you please. He'll grow tired of it… eventually. I don't want to see you get hurt." Rebekah lingered for a moment, looking into the redhead's stern freckled face, then broke free.

"Sure," she said vacantly. She began to move towards the open barn doors, her only glimpse into a somewhat sane world. The heat rippled through the air outside but Rebekah knew she'd be able to breathe there; the warmth rising from the hay was choking her.

"Isaac believes he can make anything happen," Malachai said, and slowly released her arm. She broke free as soon as the last finger left her skin. Rebekah hurried through the doors, the summer air hitting her lungs like a blast from a furnace.

"Oh, fuck," she breathed, not sure where she was headed but needing to be far away from the barn.

"Be careful, Rebekah," he called after her. His voice was distant. "This is Isaac's Gatlin now."