Forever never ends

CHAPTER NINE

"Working late tonight?"

Nettie jumped. Preacher Blevins had crept up behind her without her hearing. She thought he had left hours ago.

Her heartbeat pulsed against her eardrums. The preacher always moved with meek, reverent steps, as if noise brought chaos to the House of God. Still, he could have at least knocked on the vestry door.

"Oh, I didn't startle you, did I?" he said, the filament of his smile beaming from the lower portion of his pale light-bulb head.

She put a hand to her chest in exaggerated fear. "I thought it was the devil himself."

"The devil will never touch one as pure as you," the preacher said, resting a hand on her shoulder. He bent over her, his necktie curling out and brushing her hair as he looked at the papers covering her desk. "I was watching television over in the rectory when I looked out the window and saw the lights on. What's so important that it's got you working this late?"

"Just these figures I was telling you about. I can't make sense of them."

"Oh, the money. You shouldn't worry your pretty head about a few missing dollars. I'm sure the Lord's put them right where He wants them."

Nettie could smell tuna and onions on his breath. She said, not turning because his face was so close she would have had to bend her neck away, "Well, since you're here, maybe you can have a look. See here, in the column marked ‘Miscellaneous Charities’-"

She ran a finger down a row of numbers. "I've been through the entries covering the past two years, but almost every entry is incorrect; for example, last June twelfth we have a donation of $1,000 recorded to Windshake Nursing Home's ministry fund. But I was a volunteer there, and I remember the gift being $500. I know because I ordered hymnals and paid to have the piano tuned."

Preacher Blevins nodded gravely, his smooth light-bulb features furrowing.

"And here," Nettie said. "September twenty-third. A $350 withdrawal to pay the Baptist Convention. I checked with their office, and membership dues are only $200."

He peered over her shoulder, and Nettie was struck with the notion that he was sniffing her hair. Then he straightened up and crossed his arms. "I'm sure there were administrative fees and that sort of thing. And a lot of that money is earmarked for little things, like helping out widows and buying refreshments for church socials. It's hard to keep track of every little dollar. And it all comes out in the wash, anyway. The bottom line is that we're a growing enterprise. It's the Lord's will for us to flourish and share the church's blessings."

Nettie's head itched, as if the preacher's breath had deposited nits and fleas in her hair. She turned and looked up at him.

The preacher spread his hands in supplication. "I used to do the books before we hired you. I'm not too good with numbers. The Lord didn't bless me that way. I'm sure I made some errors along the way. But as it's written in St. Matthews, ‘When thou dost give alms, let not thy left hand know what thy right hand doeth, that thy alms may be in secret, and thy Father who seeth in secret will repay thee.’"

"But so much is unaccounted for."

"Worry not, my child. I'm sure you'll get everything straightened out." He lowered his eyes. "Well, I believe I'd better go say my prayers and get some sleep. Might have a big congregation this weekend, what with Blossomfest and all, plus Easter's coming up."

He yawned and tilted his head back, his pungent exhalation rising beneath his beaver teeth.

"Preacher, can I ask you something?"

"Certainly, honey."

"When I got hired as church secretary, whose decision was that? I mean, was it the Board of Deacons’s?" She prayed that Bill hadn't been involved.

"Well, they made recommendations, but the decision was entirely mine."

Nettie sagged in relief.

The preacher must have noticed. "Why do you ask?"

"Just curious, is all."

The preacher stepped toward her, hovering, and put his hand on her shoulder and gave it another squeeze. "I think I made a good decision, don't you?" he asked, and again he lowered his eyes.

Nettie felt them roving over her skin as if they were tongues. No, just her imagination. She had been working too long, that’s all, stooped over the church accounts until her guts were tied in knots. All this needless worry had put her on edge.

"Good night, Nettie," Preacher Blevins said, giving her a final pat on the head. "Lock up when you leave."

Nettie nodded at his flashing light-bulb smile and began clearing her desk. "See you tomorrow, Preacher."

"May God keep you and watch over your sleep, my precious child."

"Thank you. Same to you."

She listened for his footsteps as he left, but he was as silent as a mouse, as if he were walking on air. After a couple of minutes tucking papers in drawers, she switched off the light and headed into the worship hall.

A dark church is kind of spooky. She stepped under the hushed arches and walked down the aisle.

"Police Department."

"Listen, I want to report…" What the hell did James want to report?

"Yes, sir?"

"Uh-downtown, I saw… I was nearly attacked."

"In Windshake?"

"Yeah. On the back street, behind the hardware store." He tried to muffle his voice. Not sure just how black I sound.

"ID the perp?"

"What’s that?"

"Identification. Did you see the perpetrator's face?"

Oh, yes. Unfortunately, I got up close and personal. "Yes, Officer, only… I'm not sure what it was."

"Sir, have you been drinking? You're starting to slur a little."

"I'm fine. Listen, could you just take a look?" Because I need to know that I'm not losing my mind.

"We have an officer on patrol. I'll give him a call."

"Thank you." And you, too, sweet Lord.

"Do you want to come down to the station and file charges?"

Wasn't there something in the U.S. Constitution about the criminal getting to face his accuser? "No, I'm okay. I just thought you might want to check it out."

"You were nearly attacked, you say? Were you threatened in any way? It's not against the law for someone to be out at night, I'm afraid."

Oh, Officer, this thing was definitely breaking some laws. Maybe not the laws of humankind, but certainly the laws of nature. "Well, just check it out, okay?"

"I need your name for my report."

James hung up. The sweat from his frantic run had dried but the fear still clung like salt. Fortunately, Aunt Mayzie had already been asleep when he got home. At least he didn’t have to offer her any explanations of things he didn’t understand himself.

James checked the locks on the doors and windows and went to bed, praying that Aunt Mayzie would be safe. His sleep was shallow and restless, disturbed by animated cauliflower nightmares.

The alien felt the mist of its spores scatter in the night. A tingle of air pressure altered its surface chemistry, took shape, and imprinted sound vibration on the creature’s skin. The symbol throbbed against its heart-brain, causing a disturbance in the pacific state of healing.

May-zee.

The creature analyzed the symbol, and compared it to the “shu-shaaa.” No connection. No pattern. No hint of higher intelligence.

The creature fed and rested.