Chapter Thirty

 

As we followed the path to the Meeting Hall, many similarly dressed people joined the procession. No one seemed to pay the slightest attention to us. From the masses moving toward the Hall, I realized I had grossly underestimated the number of people living in the Valley. At least two hundred men, women and children walked with us to the church. Based on the beds of brightly colored flowers surrounding the path, the valley seemed inhabited by a group of professional gardeners.

Pink and purple light filtering through the clouds painted the horizon and capped the Village like the vivid background of an O'Keefe painting. The spectacle of color mesmerized me and I could see Amber and Mary Ann were equally impressed. Dazzled by the light show, we continued along the brick path until we reached the front of a large building that looked like an antique church. Caleb left us, strolling away to the rear of the building.

Fully two stories tall, with a large limestone porch jutting from the massive wooden doors, this building was easily the largest building in Carbonica. Four heavy fluted columns, devoid of ornamentation, supported a simple molded cornice. Like the porch, gray limestone comprised the building's primary construction material.

We followed Wat, Elizabeth, and Virginia through the large doors into the interior of the church. Stairs on either side of the room led to a second level. Another stairway snaked into a dark basement. Finely polished wood railed the stairways and paneled the walls.

Some of the crowd went directly upstairs but Wat led us down the long aisle to the front of the church. We followed Virginia and Elizabeth as they filed into a front-row pew. A small metal plaque on the pew bore a single engraved word: Dare.

Having removed my hat upon entering the church I glanced around, hat in lap. The large room was now nearly full and I estimated the main floor and balcony capable of seating five hundred people. A wooden gate separated us from the front of the church. Behind the gate, the floor elevated into several sub-levels raised ten feet or more above the pews. On the highest level, a massive wooden pulpit dominated the otherwise Spartan setting.

Two large chairs flanked the pulpit on a sub-level of the stage. A larger, more ornate chair, sat beside it. The buzzing hum of low but persistent conversation ceased and four men dressed in dark robes filed in from behind the stage. They quickly took seats in the chairs. A theatrical pause transpired before a fifth person entered and occupied the pulpit chair. That person was Caleb, dressed as the others in a flowing black robe. We waited until another five minutes had passed in silence.

The room became silent as we waited for someone apparently aware how to elicit a dramatic effect from an audience. The sudden and unexpected sound of someone bursting through the curtains startled me, along with the rest of the congregation. A tall man swept into the room, his shoulder-length white hair flowing over his shoulders as if it had a life of its own.

The congregation remained silent. I stared at the man's pale skin and striking blue eyes that seemed to burn with an inner fire. The wooden platform creaked beneath his weight and I thought it might collapse when he crossed it. Once behind the pulpit he stood silently for more than a minute, his gaze touching everyone in the room.

The pastor singled me from crowd with his sullen stare. Waiting fully two minutes without speaking before raising his arms, he played with the congregation like an actor acutely aware of the subtlety of high drama. His spreading robe accentuated his great stature. With his arms fully outstretched above his head, he locked his gaze on the people in the balcony to his right.

Seconds passed before he turned away, arms still fully outstretched, and stared at those in the balcony to his left. The mesmerized congregation sat like mice in a viper's gaze. Like everyone else, the white-haired man dressed in black had riveted my attention. His every subtle movement locked everyone's gaze. Soon his eyes lost focus and he gazed at the rafters. His booming voice filled the hall with the rumble of a single word.

“Peace.”

“Peace,” the congregation chanted.

Seconds later the echoes of the man's deep voice had barely ceased reverberating from antique walls. He lowered his arms but everyone's eyes remained transfixed, their attention concentrated on his every movement. With his dramatic entrance complete, he launched into a rousing hell-fire and brimstone sermon. No sound disturbed his words as he danced about the stage using his entire being to communicate with the congregation. His booming voice vibrated from the walls and ceiling like a pure note from a jazz man's horn. My eyes followed him as he darted across the stage, admonishing the congregation with a frenzy of motion and a paroxysm of religious fervor.

As the mesmerizing performance continued, a large rectangular box in front of the pulpit began to draw my attention. It sat alone at a small table, cloaked in a mysterious swath of black cloth. The Preacher continued to work the audience, returning repeatedly to a spot behind the box, touching it, stealing an occasional glance at it as he planted a subliminal message in everyone's mind. Finally, he stopped himself behind the box and spread his hands directly over it.

I was ten feet from the preacher with flowing white hair and clearly saw him raise the box's hinged lid. With more than a touch of drama, he inserted his right hand into it.

“Someone amongst ye has sinned.” He closed his eyes, raising his clenched hand high above his head. “The stench of sin is strong. Come forward and handle the serpent.”

I suddenly sat bolt upright in the pew. Tiny hairs on my neck straightened and sent a cold chill straight to the base of my spine. A huge rattlesnake, fully seven feet in length, draped from his outstretched hand. A mournful sob came from the back of the church. I hoped he had not heard but he had. The sorrowful cries became persistently louder until everyone turned to see the face of the person causing the disturbance. It was a girl, not much older than Virginia and certainly not Mary Ann. Her mother did not attempt to console her and the thundering voice of the preacher interrupted my thoughts.

“Come here, Daughter.”

I stole a glance at the girl. She sobbed even louder as her mother pushed her gently away from her, then crossed her arms and looked away. The girl moaned, her eyes begging someone to intercede. No one did and the girl's sobs dissolved into a woeful wail.

“Come here, Daughter. It's time to confess your sin to the congregation and ask for Divine Forgiveness.”

Tears had swollen the girl's face until it was puffy and red. Instead of pity, her mother appeared embarrassed and stared at the floor. She pushed her into the aisle.

“No-o-o-o-o-!” wailed the girl, struggling to retain her seat.

An older man beside her grabbed her shoulders and whispered something in her ear. Her bottom lip quivered as she stared through teary eyes one last time at her mother. The older woman shook her head, riveted her gaze on the floor, and pushed the girl's hand away when she reached it out for her.

“It's time, Daughter,” said the Preacher. “Come to me now.”

The girl shook as she made her way to the aisle. She covered her face with her hands and approached the altar. After opening the gate separating the stage from the rest of the church, she ascended the stairs, still sobbing uncontrollably.

“Stand before me, Daughter,” commanded the Preacher. She did, looking up tearfully into his angry eyes. “Turn and face the congregation.”

The girl turned her back to the Preacher who looked even taller when back-dropped against her. She cringed, as did half the congregation, when he draped the writhing reptile across her shoulders. For a moment, I thought she would faint.

“Now, my Daughter, confess your sin before the congregation, God and the Serpent of Justice,” he said.

I felt paralyzed and apparently so did the girl. The rattlesnake slowly coiled the back portion of its body around her right arm. Its head darted over her left shoulder to her chest. Its lidless eyes were six inches from her face and her sobbing ceased, replaced by cold sweat dripping down her forehead.

“Confess, Daughter, and I will take away the serpent.” She tried to say something but her voice cracked with fear. “Speak up, Daughter. It is all right,” the Preacher said.

“I let James touch me. Please forgive me, Father,” she said in a near stuttering whine.

“From whom are you asking forgiveness?” asked the Preacher.

“The good Lord, my family, and the people of the Colony,” she said in a stammer.

“And will you engage in this sin again?”

“No, I promise . . .”

“Quiet,” he said. “Now we shall see if the serpent believes you.”

The girl stood frozen as the reptile stared directly into her eyes. Its tongue darted as if tasting the odor of fear in droplets of sweat dripping down her cheek. The snake's head brushed the girl's face before loosening its grip on her arm and slowly encircling itself around her neck. It remained there for only a moment before uncoiling and dropping with a dull thud to the floor.

“Go my child and sin no more.”

The girl slumped forward, as if a supporting rod had dropped from her back, and tears gushed from her eyes. Clasping her hand over her mouth, she ran down the aisle and out the door of the church.

The Preacher picked up the snake and raised it above his head. Total silence engulfed the congregation. This time he stared directly at me.

“Strangers have come to our Colony from outside. As the Lord teaches, we have broken bread and offered them shelter. Now we must know if their hearts are pure and free of sin and treachery. Who amongst you will bare his soul to the Serpent of Justice?”

My own mouth dropped open and sweat trickled between my eyes and off the tip of my nose. I was powerless to move and stared straight ahead, sensing every eye in the church suddenly focused on me. Wat grabbed my arm and whispered into my ear.

“One of you must take the test of the Serpent.” He shook me gently as he spoke. “Pastor Gray expects it to be you since you're the man and the elder.”

I couldn't stop my hands from shaking. My thoughts returned abruptly to the dark hole in Vietnam with Honeyboy's dead eyes and broken body engulfed in a writhing pile of poisonous snakes. I locked my hands on the front of the pew and swallowed hard to keep from vomiting. Thousands of imaginary needles pricked my skin and I felt like a person about to have all his teeth extracted without benefit of Novocain.

Amber seemed even more frightened. I took another deep breath and tried to stand but my legs responded like warm rubber beneath my weight. I fought to keep from fainting and started for the aisle like a doomed murderer preparing to walk the last steps to the gallows.

My heart raced at the thought of touching the slithering reptile and maggots of anxiety crawled beneath my skin. Blood rushing from my face left my lips cold, my hands clammy. I was already dead and felt like a silent corpse, blasted in its grave by an ice-cold winter chill. Before I could take a step, someone put a hand on my shoulder. It was Mary Ann.

She pressed past me in the aisle, proceeding straight to the altar where the preacher waited with the reptile undulating in his grasp. She threw open the gate and strolled up the steps toward the man in the robe. I could only stand there like an idiot, incapable of any action. Wat grabbed my arm and eased me back into the pew.

I could neither move nor scream. As in my nightmares, only a feeble gurgle emerged from deep in my throat. Mary Ann stopped in front of the blue-eyed man whose features seemed sharp as the reptile's fangs. Without hesitation, she took the rattlesnake from his hands and faced the congregation. With the reptile held high above her head, she moved it in a slow arc.

In a strong, unwavering voice she said, “The Lord protects his flock and the Serpent guards us from lies and deceit.”

“Amen,” chanted the congregation in unison.

Mary Ann handed the snake to the Preacher, left the stage, and returned to her seat.

The service lasted another hour, but I remained in a frightened haze until the Preacher returned the snake to the box. Finally, it was over. When we filed from the church, Mary Ann grabbed my elbow. I could only respond with a thin smile.

“Thanks,” I said. “That's two I owe you.”

Mary Ann only grinned and said, “I’m not afraid of snakes. Wasn’t nothing to it.”

She put her shoulder beneath my arm and supported me as we returned to Caleb's house. Caleb met us at the front door with a big smile and outstretched arms.

“You have passed the test of the Serpent,” he said. “You will stay with us as long as you wish and tomorrow we will show you the Valley.”

Amber blew me a kiss as Virginia led her and Mary Ann to their rooms. Wat helped me up the stairs where I sprawled on the bed feeling humiliated, worthless and stripped of every ounce of honor and dignity. For one brief moment, I even seriously considered throwing myself out the window.