Chapter Thirty Four

 

I shut the door behind me just as Amber said, “Wait.”

Opening the door a crack, I held my finger to my lips and said, “Shh! You'll wake the whole house”

Amber followed me out the door. “I'm going with you.”

“Then try to hold the noise down to a mild roar.”

My intentional smart-ass remark prompted her to punch me in the arm. We both had to muffle our laughter. Somehow, we managed to creep down the creaking staircase without waking anyone and when we reached the front door, I groped in the dark for the handle. As we headed down the deserted lane toward the church full moonlight lighted the opalescent sky much like Zekiel's smoky crystal ball.

There were no lights in any of the houses. Sure that we were the only ones awake in the sleepy village we hurried along to the old stone structure. The church appeared more indigenous to a New England hamlet then the eerily lit tranquility of a remote Arkansas forest. I turned the latch on one of the heavy front doors and found it unlocked. As we eased into the darkness of the church's interior, a rush of cold air swept over us.

I fished a candle out in my pocket and lit it, my thoughts returning to the reptile box. I hoped the good Pastor Gray hadn't let the big rattlesnake loose on the floor to guard the church against intruders. I forgot about the snake when we reached the massive old Bible nestled on the lectern.

While I held the candle, Amber carefully opened the book. It was more than old, it was ancient, its type and paper snatched from a different era. She thumbed to the front plate of the book. Elaborately printed, it bore the inscription: Imprinted at London for the Queen Mother—Elizabeth I, 1587. The bottom of the page bore a faded, handwritten note that raised my heart rate when I read it.

“Lucke, Deare Raleigh, to seak worldes of golde, for praise, for glory.”

The inscription was signed Virginia and even the dim candle light reflected disbelief in Amber's indigo eyes. “Tom, could this possibly be the original handwriting of Elizabeth I?” She answered her own question. “I believe it's a note to her lover, Sir Walter Raleigh.”

Almost immediately, I had a second shock. A giant hand firmly grasped my shoulder. When I jerked around, I found myself staring into the big face of Pastor Gray. His glare, like a blue-eyed, avenging angel, heated the back of my neck.

“What is it you seek, my children?”

“A look at the bible,” I said, stammering the obvious.

Pastor Gray's long white hair, lighted by colored reflections through a stained glass window, bounced with a strobe-like effect. “In the midst of darkness? Why not wait until morning?”

I had no answer and didn't want to explain it was because we were afraid of him. Amber managed to give him a feeble, although apparently acceptable answer. “We were discussing the Bible and couldn't contain our curiosity until morning. We meant no harm.”

Gray released his grip. “Did you find what you sought?”

“Partially,” I said, finding my voice. “Perhaps you could answer some questions for us?”

“Perhaps,” Gray said, turning toward the door at the back of the stage. “Come with me.”

Amber gave me an uneasy glance and shook her head, ever so slightly. Pastor Gray didn't wait for an answer and was already ducking through the door. Amber nudged me toward his office where Gray motioned us to sit and then slumped into the chair behind the small desk facing us.

“What questions can I answer?”

“Tell us about your Colony. Where your people came from?”

Gray's expression grew solemn and he folded his hands in his lap, wringing them and staring diffidently at Amber and me. Apprehension glazed his voice and darkened his face and he asked, “Why do you wish to know?”

“We have no wish to bring harm to your people,” I said.

Gray's blue eyes demeanor gradually changed to passive acceptance. The weight of a secret kept for centuries appeared to lift from his shoulders and he leaned back in his chair, gazing thoughtfully for a moment at Amber and me.

“What I'm about to tell you is unknown to the others of the Colony. We are descendent of another Colony that failed long ago. Roanoke.”

I leaned forward with my elbows on the desk and so did Amber, her mouth open as we listened to Pastor Gray verbalize what we both already suspected.

“That was more than four hundred years ago,” Amber said.

“Yes,” Gray said. “We are descendent of Raleigh's second colony on Roanoke Island.”

“How is that possible?” I asked.

“The year was 1587, although it doesn't really matter. A group of people went to re-colonize Roanoke that the original colonists had abandoned the prior year. The scheduled supply ship never came.

“Our ancestors were resourceful and thrived in their new surroundings. They had little worry of survival until supplies arrived but early in the second year sickness struck the colony. Many died and their bodies thrown into the sea to prevent the spread of the infection. Indians, known as the Croatans, assisted the colonists. Disease also struck them, killing many and the Colony's survival seemed bleak.

“The Governor, not knowing what else to do, sent two exploratory groups along the coast to seek respite from the disease. One man returned from each group. Both told stories of fierce Indians that had captured most of their parties, killing them slowly with horrible techniques of torture. The Colonists were gentle people, mostly farmers. The tales of the wild men terrified them. The Croatans, a tribe of fishers and hunters, were also terrified.

“Events worsened. A marauding band of savages had followed the returning survivor of one of the exploratory patrols. The Colonists fought off the small group but not without casualties on both sides. Fearing the return of a larger raiding party, the Governor ordered the migration to an island off the coast.

“When wild Indians crossed to the island and slaughtered many of the colonists, the Governor abandoned hope of rescue from Mother England. Those escaping the massacre fled west from the island—the only safe direction. The remaining Croatans joined them. The course they followed was long and arduous and many died on the trek. After wandering for two years, the survivors reached this valley. It was then as it is now—a haven.

“Food was abundant and there was metal for crafting and hot water pools that became the life's-blood of the Colony. The rest you know or can decipher. Our ancestors stayed and prospered but always with a fear of what lay beyond the valley.”

Gray paused, exhausted from his discourse. Sinking back into his chair, he again grew silent.

“There are no wild Indians beyond the valley, Pastor Gray. Has no one left the colony in all these years?” I asked.

“Many of the mountain people are descendants of families of this Valley. Our crops grow at all levels of the mountain—some even on the mountains surrounding the Valley.”

Amber said, “Yet no one has betrayed the secret.”

Gray sat up straight in his chair and leaned forward, placing his hands on the desk. “And neither must you. You must seal your promise with an oath of blood.”

Pastor Gray straightened to his full, intimidating height and glared at us, a sudden look of wildness in his eyes. The same cold chill I felt when the rattlesnake wrapped itself around the girl's neck began blowing down my collar. Gray retrieved something from beneath his desk. By candlelight, we gazed at the bleached skull of a giant viper staring at us through eyeless sockets. Its gaping mouth revealed two long, dagger-like fangs.

“Place your arms on the desk,” Gray ordered.

Amber cleared her throat nervously but placed her left arm on the desktop. I stretched my right arm beside hers. The Pastor grasped them in his enormous left hand and drew them together. Brushing back our sleeves, he flipped our palms face up and grabbed the grotesque skull from the desk with his right hand.

Pastor Gray bowed his head. “By my own blood taken by the serpent, I swear silence forever. Say it,” he said.

“By my own blood taken by the serpent, I swear silence forever,” Amber and I said.

“Again,” Gray implored.

“By my own blood taken by the serpent I swear silence forever,” we said again in unison.

After we had repeated the oath, Gray used the serpent's fangs to trace four connecting cuts on the fleshy side of our forearms. Dagger-like teeth incised the skin until bloody diamonds appeared simultaneously on each of our arms.

“In the presence of the Serpent of the Lord these sinners have sworn a mortal oath of silence. Let your mark always remind them and make strong their oath.”

He released our arms and slumped back into his chair.

“Please, Pastor Gray. One more question. We came to the valley looking for my brother. Is there anything you can tell us about where he might be?”

Gray's answer was little more than a whispered response but somehow his hoarse reply rang true. “Your brother stayed for only a short while and we have not seen him since.”

We had solved one puzzle while yet another remained unanswered. We thanked Pastor Gray and returned along the pathway to Caleb's house.

“This blows me away,” Amber said, glancing at the bloody diamond etched in her forearm. “Oath or no oath, no one would ever believe us anyway.”

“These people aren't responsible for Bill's disappearance.” I said. “Not even Pastor Gray or his snakes.”