“Me too, but I guess we don't have any choice.”
“All things happen for a reason,” Ma Withers said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Grant and Amos turned towards the trees and headed off across the clearing. A knot of doubt and fear in Grant's gut weighed him down, but he did his best to ignore it as they strode into the forest.
Ma returned the two men's waves as they disappeared into the trees, and sat heavily into a small chair on her front porch. She had never been so tired, but it had been a long time since she had felt this much at peace.
“I done all I could for you, Grandaddy,” she said in a weak voice. “I think I finally earned me a proper rest.”
She looked out at the trees, at the sunlight dappling through the leaves. Birds sang and a soft breeze rustled through, carrying with it the scent of bark and loam. She had never seen beyond this day, even in her clearest dreams. Grant looked to be every bit the hero she had thought he would be, though he was a far sight younger than she had expected. Dreams and portents were never really clear enough, never gave any true detail. But she had played her part and now Grant and Amos would have to play theirs. She had never been able to see what lay beyond this moment and she was happy with that. She didn't want to see any more. She had hope.
Ma Withers closed her eyes and breathed deeply of the mountain air. Slowly the rise and fall of her chest slowed, became shallower and shallower, until it didn't rise again.
Chapter 20
Grant and Amos hiked through rough country in the shade of the dense forest. Ma's map and Amos's innate local sense of the landscape meant they never worried about reaching their destination, but the trek was longer and more arduous than they had expected. Amos kept reminding Grant that he was an old man and Grant reminded him that for an old man who had been shot the day before, he was doing pretty well.
The day began to wane as they pushed on toward the other side of the mountain. Dusk came early among the high mountain peaks and dense trees. Grant endured the increasing sense of dread that sat in his gut like a rock and threw himself into the physical exertion to help ignore it. He felt like a condemned man, each step bringing him closer to his demise, yet there was something satisfying in that. For the first time in his life he had a true purpose, an unquestionable destiny. And while that destiny almost certainly ended with his death, it gave him a sense of relevance that he had never felt before. If this would be the end of his life, it would be a short life indeed, but one with more experience than many people ever saw in their three score years and ten.
It was near sundown when they finally crested a ridge and saw a deep, narrow valley slicing through the mountain below. Grant pulled Amos to a stop and crouched low in the scrub. He pointed.
“People down there. And look, you can see a dark hole between the trees. A cave entrance?”
Amos squinted through the lowering sun. “Sure looks like it. That fellow there is distant kin to the Stallards, and the pretty thing next to him is his wife.” He sucked his teeth in disapproval. “I thought they was all right. That woman is a Sunday School teacher, and not at the Stallard's church, neither.”
Grant raised an eyebrow. “Really? Seems Ma was right when she said this whole town was in on the thing. How come you've never been drawn into this?”
Amos gestured at his old, wrinkled face. “A black man might have a better life in a town like this than he used to, but he ain't no equal member of society. Too many people got fond memories of segregation, if you catch my drift.” He chuckled ruefully. “I reckon this old skin served me well.”
“Not so much your son, I guess.”
“When Doctor King pictured children of all colors joining hands, this ain't what he had in mind.” Amos looked at the forest floor, and shook his head. “I used to pray that my boy wouldn't have a life like mine, could just be seen as a man like anybody else. Didn't ever think I'd curse society for including him. But Elijah is a good boy. He got proper home training. I don't understand why he did this.”
“Maybe he was desperate to fit in, to be accepted in his home town. And maybe was proud to have succeeded. Only, this town isn't really the kind of society you want to be accepted into.”
Amos nodded, still looking down. “He tried to save me even though he was prepared to give you up. He's brainwashed by these fools, but there's goodness in him yet. I have to believe there is.”
“I'm sure you're right. We'll get him out of this.” Grant winced internally at the inadvertent lie he had told. What chance did he have of surviving this himself, let alone saving Cassie and Elijah too? But he was not about to give up without trying.
They moved along the ridge to get a better view and a track became clear through the trees below. The path wound down the hillside to the cave mouth, where two burly men, both armed, stood guard at either side. The Stallard cousin and his wife went into the caves after a brief friendly chat with the guards, though Grant and Amos were too far away to hear what they discussed.
Revulsion curdled Grant's stomach as he watched these carefree people acting as if this occasion were no more grave than a family picnic. The fact that they were about to do murder seemed not to occur to them, or if it did, they didn't care.
Grant and Amos moved further down, careful to avoid fallen branches that might give them away with a sharp crack in the still air. When they were only twenty yards or so above the guards they hunkered down again. Amos tapped Grant's shoulder, pointed. Two more people made their way along the track.
“Howdy boys,” said one. “It's a fine evening for it, ain't it?”
“You're late,” one of the guards said. “Cuttin' it damn close. Better get inside.”
“Really? We the last to arrive?”
“Pretty much. Everyone else is inside and we're only waiting on Jed and Jesse, then we start.”
Grant's hackles rose at the mention of the Stallard brother's names. He bit down on anger and waited.
“How long till the conjunction?” one on the track asked.
“Half an hour, maybe? Now get inside.”
The men looked at each other, clearly surprised, and hurried in.
Grant turned to Amos, his eyes wide. “I thought we had until tonight,” he whispered.
Amos shrugged. “I guess a planetary alignment don't have to wait for night to be in effect.”
“We have to hurry!”
Amos pointed at the guards still standing by the cave entrance. “And do what?”
Grant fumed. He felt at once empowered by Ma Withers' ministrations, and simultaneously useless and weak. They had one bowie knife between them against a whole town with guns and a demon on their side. He almost laughed aloud at the absurdity of it all. Ma Withers' words echoed in his memory. Things happen for a reason at their right time, son. You happened for a reason, Cassie did too.
Maybe there was something beyond him on his side and this was the right time. More of Ma's words worried at the back of his mind. Ain't no justice to who prevails in things like this, evil wins out as often as good. Well, fuck it all. There was just as little justice for these evil bastards as there was for him and maybe one angry young man was all the catalyst needed to make a difference.
“I need to get inside,” he whispered. “I've no idea what I can do in there, but I certainly can't do anything from out here.”
Amos nodded, looked along the narrow valley trail. “I'll make you a distraction. Draw those guards away from the cave entrance. When they move, you slip in behind.”
“And what about you?”
“I'm a fair woodsman. I'll take my chances.”