(featured image by Nick Scheerbart)
The church bells stopped working around hour two and, really, that should’ve been the first sign something was horrendously wrong. The lights shuttered out around hour five, but thankfully the church had a generator for emergencies. A generator that died out at hour nine. At hour ten, the church’s secretary broke out the lanterns meant for candlelit services.
It reminded the children of Christmas Eve service; enough that they pulled out the manger and were playing with the Levines’ 18 month old baby. Erilene was too busy staring out the thin front windows, chewing her bottom lip as she searched for her husband, to pay attention to her child being the temporary savior for a group of bored children.
The stained glass lining the sanctuary gradually grew duller and the colors faded with every passing tick of the wall clock and the dwindling pace of tocks from wrist watches. Long had time become intangible in any evidence of natural flow, the only evidence being the longer hair on the children, unruly and gathering knots, bitten fingernails that turned jagged, unshaven 5 o’clock shadow, and blood red etches appearing on shins.
Outside, the prairie’s rolling hills were littered with…something. Nothing corporeal to any of their eyes. Not to the people holed up in the church or the men standing guard outside. Pacing back and forth on the gravel meant for cars three times a week. No one had driven there today, only rushed walking that turned to frantic running with family as they were herded inside.
The men, all scruffed up and high alert despite the time that passed, all carried weapons of varying efficiency. Some had the foresight to bring their personal guns, a few had raided garden sheds and were armed with hoes, shovels, and pitchforks, and others had taken baseball bats from their kids.
Each one of them rounded the church over and over, staring out into the fields. Watching. Waiting. A select handful were too scared to ask what their eyes were already scanning for. Sleeves rolled up to their elbows and shirts unbuttoned at the top to relieve the sweat dripping off in the cold air.
The sheriff’s wife, Mrs. Dalton, set out water bottles every few hours or so, taken from the fellowship hall. She was only permitted to open the front door a couple inches, just enough to slip out the bottles that fell to the ground and rolled across the ramp to a stop in the overgrown grass.
Not all the men took water, but they all disappeared within a few minutes.
Eleven year old Ellie was amongst the children tasked with searching for anything useful. If anyone could find random shit in a church that could be used for something, it was children her age. At least, that’s what the young new mother Evangeline said before she got scolded by her own mother. But no one had objected.
Ellie had checked first behind the doors leading up to the baptism steps. The stained glass of Jesus with a baby lamb was staring down at her while she riffled through old boxes that made her nose stuffy. White robes and papers, a binder filled with dates and names that she felt too bored to read. She barely liked reading during Sunday School.
She brought the robes to the preacher’s wife, Essa, who patted her on the head a bit too roughly for her liking. Sent her off to look for more things along with the others. Her classmates scattered across the church and fellowship hall. Ellie went straight for the Elders’ room. She’d always wanted to see what it looked like.
She went through the filing cabinet first, looking for her hazy family name but only found a couple birth and death certificates and little blue cards. Leaving it be, she opened the small fridge in the corner and pulled out a few strange brown bottles and small packages wrapped in brown paper. She tried to open one of the bottles, but only cut her finger on the jagged cap.
All of the high-backed chairs surrounding the fancy table were shoved in. Ellie pulled one out to climb onto the table. She was taller than most kids her age and the light fixture was jostled lower than normal. Out she plucked two lightbulbs and experimentally held one in each hand. A little squeeze did nothing. Any more force and they’d shatter right in her hands.
Ellie looked down at the table she stood on. The Elders would probably be upset if she got blood on their nice wooden table. It was almost as nice as the Christmas dinner table, only shorter in length. She climbed down and ran back to the sanctuary.
“This is stupid! And asinine!”
She stopped in the doorway. Not wanting to get any closer. Yelling meant bad.
“You watch your mouth! We are still in a church, afterall.” Ms. Wandas, the piano lady for the church, was shouting from behind the pulpit. She was clutching her pretty gray scarf to her face like she did whenever someone sang the wrong word or note during hymnal time.
Someone threw said hymnal at her and there weren’t yells of protest, merely gasps. “Damn this church! No one here in their right mind should be agreeing to this! At this point, I’m posed to believe no one here is!”
It was Jason, a man Ellie guessed was the same age as Evangeline. He was tall, dark skinned, and really skinny; someone her grandmother would want to feed to plump up for Thanksgiving. His fingers kept tapping against the wooden arms of the pew he was curled up in, staring out the window that was too fogged up to really see out of.
Ellie wondered if he saw what she did out there.
Jason kicked a pew, knocking it between him and Ms. Wandas. “I won’t risk my life for the men who brought this upon us!”
“You are an outsider, young man! Who’s to say this isn’t all your fault?”
“I’m no more an outsider than these children are! Would you send them to the pyre for questioning your authority?” His eyes were red-rimmed and Ellie looked at the empty tissue basket on the end of the pew.
“You will speak no ill of our beloved children!” Ms. Wandas banged her fist on the pulpit, shocking Ellie more than her words. “You are wicked, sir! I hope the devil takes his time with you for the misery you have wrought in your time here.”
“This misery is not my creation. I know what you people have done and I will not let any offspring of mine be tainted with this so-called ‘holy soil’.”
Ms. Wandas held her chin up and Ellie instinctively held her hands to her chest, covering them with her sleeves. “Your offspring will be baptized in the blood of the sacrificed lamb.”
Jason lurched over the pew and one of Ellie’s classmates yanked her towards the windows, though she wasn’t sure why. An older boy was pushed in his way and Jason tumbled right into him. Both went sprawling over the floor and the boy’s mother tutted as she pulled him to his feet, but still took the time to step on Jason’s hand as he tried to do the same.
Ms. Wandas’ stern gaze didn’t leave Jason as he continued to yell from the floor. Profanities, curses, and words Ellie could not understand. But still no one else moved except Essa, who pulled Ellie to sit next to her on the front pew. From the baptism, stained glass images of goats watched the commotion unfold.
Jason, red-faced and panting, looked at everyone in the church and Ellie wondered how her own face appeared staring back at him. He spryly jumped to his feet and ran for the fellowship hall while now leaning over, clutching his side. Through the open hallway, she could watch in growing nerves as he bypassed all the tables and used his shoulder to shove his way through the back door. Ellie could see a flash of pale red outside before it closed behind him.
Murmurs and shuffling. Waiting and candles flickering. Mrs. Dalton stood up and silently motioned for her three sons of varying young ages, all trying to hide between the pews, to follow her. They glanced at one another but obediently got up and solemnly walked in file after their mother to the back door.
She knocked and the door slid open just a smidge. Ellie craned her neck to look, but Essa tugged her back.
“I will handle it, just give him over,” Mrs. Dalton said unkindly.
Someone from outside answered. A gruff voice laced with worry and downtrodden with exhaustion. “Marian, I don’t know if-”
“Honey,” she interrupted and her sons’ spines snapped straight. “We don’t have time for this.”
The back door flung open in response and Jason was thrown back in, sliding with a sickening squelch across the fellowship hall’s faux linoleum flooring. He was motionless and appeared the same as he did a few minutes ago. Ellie didn’t feel right looking at him. But no one else in the church would, so she felt compelled. She only wished she could see his face. She wondered about his eyes.
Mrs. Dalton and her sons took hold of his limbs and started to drag him across the floor towards the sanctuary. His workman’s boots left dark, dirty scuff marks on the beige carpet and Ellie felt a slice of sympathy for the cleaning lady. The further inside they got, the more they visibly struggled despite how skinny boned Jason was.
“Up there! Let’s go!” Mrs. Dalton jerked her head to the baptism, where the cloaked man of many shadows watched from the stained glass. Her oldest son grunted and briefly let go to grab hold of underneath Jason’s arms. Up the stage steps, he and his brothers collectively heaved Jason into the baptism.
He landed inside with a harsh thud and Ellie no longer wanted to sit with Essa. She wiggled out of the preacher’s wife’s hold and took a meager step towards the stage, but couldn’t move any closer. There was no further sound or movement from Jason.
Placing her sweaty palms together, she bowed her head to pray. Dear Lord may my soul to reap, please lay the path for his spirit to be guided back to your pasture. If it be thy will and of heavenly plan, please consider his soul for the-
“Ellie!” Ms. Wandas clapped her hand on her shoulder, jolting her out of her plea for Jason’s afterlife. “Why don’t you go get some sleep, hm? Esther made up some sleeping pads in your Sunday School room. It’ll be like a big sleepover with all your friends!”
Ellie didn’t want to sleep, but even more didn’t want to upset Ms. Wandas so off she went. Esther was giving children blankets as they laid down on the makeshift beds: coats and jackets covered in curtains and sheets used for holiday plays.
Esther smiled at her, but it didn’t meet her eyes. “Here you go, dear. Try and get what rest you can, okay?” Her coily black hair was tied back in a red ribbon and she was still wearing dust-covered clothes she cleaned the church in.
As she handed Ellie a baby blue blanket, Ellie could see the sanded out remains of ink on her clavicle. Sanded down out of Esther’s skin, leaving only permanently bruised and red flesh on display. Ellie politely tore her eyes away.
Inside her classroom, children of the congregation were already passed out on the sleeping pads. They must have gotten really tired since they arrived. Ellie chose a spot still vacant by the window. No light shone through, despite there being a hint of it giving the fog outside a living glow.
Ellie brushed her shirt sleeve across the glass, briefly giving her a glimpse into the outside. Dense fog that prevented her from seeing any farther past a few feet. If she threw a rock, it’d disappear into the mist immediately.
She could see figures though. The preacher dragging a shovel across the pebbles as he circled the church. The grocer from down the street pacing back and forth impatiently wielding a bat. A dirty skeleton cloaked in robes she recognized from her illustrated Bible. Her seatmate’s older brother and uncle back to back clutching bent golf clubs.
Ellie laid down on her bed and wrapped the blanket securely around her. Like a little cocoon. It was scratchy wool, but warm. The sleeping pad was lumpy and zippers poked into her spine, but not too unlike where she usually slept. The still bodies around her created an unnerving nest and she wiggled onto her back.
Motion from the window drew her gaze. Fog and more fog, remoistening the glass that she just wiped. Another robed skeleton stepped into view, hollow indentions for features and stark white bones clacking together as it moved.
Click. Click. Click.
Ellie ducked under her blanket. Blocking out the minimal light, the fabric resembled the biblical cloaks and she bit her lip.
Click. Click. Click.
Shut her eyes. Watched the stars dance.
Click. Clack.
Stars twinked over a grassy bank. Solidifying into stained glass.
Click. Clack. Clack.
The black goat nudging the glass. It wants out.
Clack. Creak. Creak.
Let it out, Ellie.
Creeeeaak.
Let. It. Out.
Ellie threw off the blistering blanket and crawled over the other unmoving bodies in the classroom. Elbows and knees all jutting in different directions. The door was left open a crack and she slipped out easily. The sanctuary was dark. All the candles had been blown out, wisps of smoke still trailing from the wicks. No adults in sight, but she could hear movement in the fellowship hall.
Jason was still in the baptism. Liquid has started to pool at the top of his head where it landed in the tub, hidden from view from the pews. She climbed over him, stepping with her tarnished white sandals into the liquid and coming away with little dark footprints.
The stained glass above her was huge at this angle. Swirls of red were seeping in from the corners and skeletons like her friends outside were appearing over the hills. The black goat watched with beady eyes as she found a Bible from the steps leading outside the tub and raised it above her head.
Doors opened around her and fearful screams rang out. Yelling was bad. It scared her. The black goat will protect her, though.
Ellie smashed the stained glass.
When she awoke, heat swelled up tight against her face and she tenderly touched her cheek. Just a mere poke made her hiss and she resisted the urge to bite the inside of her mouth. A gentle orange glow surrounded her and she gave herself whiplash sitting up.
Somehow she’d ended up in the middle of the sanctuary. The carpet was stained with dark splotches and the paint on the walls was peeling around deep scratches. Tossed pews leaned against the walls, blocking out the windows so she couldn’t see if the fog was still underway. Actually, the fog seemed to have traveled inside. Gray mixed in with the orange and she wrinkled her nose. Almost smelled like marshmallows.
A figure emerged from the hue. The black goat. Its coat was longer in person and the two gray horns protruding in arcs from the top of its head were imposing. It walked towards her and Ellie stumbled to her aching feet. It looked her in the eye for a moment, shining coals that sparked a feeling in her, then strode past her. An unspoken request. Ellie smiled and followed the black goat up the aisle with a skip in her step and out of the disarrayed church.
Outside, the fog had been lifted. It was still very messy though, with trees falling over leaving exposed trunks, cracks in the main road down the hill, the gravel parking lot all swept around into the grass.
Ellie looked around. “Where is everyone else?”
The black goat turned slowly to the road and Ellie squinted, eyes still stinging from inside, then grinned. “Jason!” She waved and the man, standing in the middle, held up one hand to wave back. The other hand was filled holding an infant. He still didn’t look so good, but he smiled as well.
The black goat trotted towards Jason and Ellie followed, only looking back momentarily to watch as flames engulfed the church. Crawling from the broken windows and up to the steeple. For a moment, she thought she heard more voices. But amongst it all, she could make out Ms. Wandas’ screams and Ellie quickly turned back.
She didn’t like yelling. But now the black goat and Jason could protect her.