The wind spun it in a slow circle. Spinning, spinning. Rags of flesh swayed from its limbs, as though it had perished thrashing and shrieking. The longer a person gazed at it, the more familiar its outline became…
“Let’s go,” Micah said.
9
THEY CAME UPON a tiny meadow carved from the trees and hunkered down. It was too dark to hike any farther.
The tents were made of heavy canvas. The poles were packed in eight-inch sections that had to be slotted together. They snapped on their flashlights and got to work. It took the women twenty minutes to set theirs up. The men muttered and griped as they struggled with their own.
“I’ll sleep outside!” Eb yelled, hurling a pole into the trees. “Bugger it all! I’ll sleep outside like a dog!”
Ellen helped the men get their tent up. She worked quickly but deftly, shooing the men aside so she could work unencumbered.
“A million thank-yous.” Ebenezer offered a bow. “I am afraid I’m all thumbs, my dear.”
Ellen curtsied. “Think nothing of it.”
Their exchanges were exaggeratedly comical—a distraction from the dread they had felt earlier while watching that small thing spin at the top of the tree.
They gathered wood and soon had a fire. The forest closed in, isolating them in that trembling pocket of firelight. Minerva pulled a Hebrew National salami from her pack; she cut it with her pocketknife and ate the thick wedges. Ebenezer drank his warm Yoo-hoos and stared at the can of beans he had brought.
“A can opener,” he said. “Ebenezer, you horse’s ass.”
Micah said, “Give it here.” He stabbed the lid with his dirk knife and levered it open.
“I am not built for such rough living,” Eb said, accepting the can back.
Knots popped in the fire. Minerva produced a flask and drank from it. She passed it to Ellen, who took a nip.
“Is it even legal?” Minerva asked. “An isolated society way out here? No laws, nobody to answer to?”
“They’re adults, is how you have to look at it,” said Ellen, passing the flask back. “It’s their right. Nobody’s forcing them.”
“Unless they’ve been brainwashed,” said Minerva.
“Yeah, unless. It’s not that uncommon,” Ellen said. “You’ve got little, what, enclaves like this all over the country. Utah, Montana, California. I went to the library and looked into it. It’s not that the authorities don’t know where they are; it’s that they don’t give a rat’s ass.”
Minny said, “But you got kids there, too.”
Ellen nodded. She had thought about that part of it quite a lot. It was—apart from her nephew’s general safety—why Ellen felt compelled to make arrangements with Micah. Nate had no choice but to go with his dad. And if Reggie wanted to devote himself to God in some remote encampment, okay. But Nate was being forced down a line, was how Ellen saw it. He was being pushed, bullied for all she knew, to accept this new life. That didn’t sit well with her. If he chose to walk that same line as an adult, fine. But to have that crucial element of choice taken away just because he was too young to make up his own mind seemed totally unfair.
“What about this Grand Poobah?” Eb said.
Ellen said, “I don’t know a thing about him.”
“We know he’s fussy about his hair,” said Minerva.
“Sherri and I weren’t raised religious,” Ellen went on. “So the idea of following someone—one person—devoting your whole life to him, it just doesn’t add up. What if he’s wrong? What if he’s nuts?”
Ebenezer said, “O ye of little faith.”
Eb said it with a smile. He thought this Bellhaven woman was a fool but a good-hearted one, and those were the best sorts of fools. He would gladly take her money. She would get a gander at this rug-rat nephew of hers. On the way back, he would pay a visit to Ruby at the cathouse in Albuquerque. Ruby did this most delightful thing with her hips.
Micah said, “You will not get him back.”
He peered across the fire at Ellen. His face was grave.
“You should not harbor that hope.”
Ellen stared back at him. “All I’m asking is to see him. He doesn’t even know who I am. He won’t remember me. I am—” She casually encircled her face with one finger. “I look different than I did then. Nate was just a baby anyway. Reggie couldn’t pick me out of a lineup, either. I just want to make sure he’s okay.”
Micah said, “Okay by whose estimation?”
Ellen’s shoulders drew tight. Her head dipped.
“You know what my sister said to me once? She said that maybe the best thing about having a child, especially a young one, was that you could love that child shamelessly. She said that you could put everything into that kid, love crazily, give everything in your heart and mind and soul over to that other person. You can’t do that for a husband or a wife, not really. The only other entity you could love that way would be God, if you’re a believer.”
She looked up again. Directly at Micah.
“You and me—we don’t understand that kind of love, do we.”
Micah blinked his eye. He said, “We should turn in.”
10
THUMP.
The first one landed softly. Micah stirred.
Thu-thump.
He cracked his eyelid. He was inside the tent. The Englishman was snoring somewhere to his left.
Thump.
Something collided with the tent. Micah heard it roll down the canvas.
He grabbed one of his pistols and crawled past Ebenezer.
“Whuzza?” Eb mumbled.
Micah pushed the flap aside. The clearing was washed in pale moonlight.
Thump. Thump.
“What the bloody hell?” Ebenezer said. He sounded like a man who had been kicked violently awake.
Thump.
That soft pattering all around them. Something else struck the tent and rolled off. Things were landing on the ground with muted whumphs.
“Shug?” Minerva called out. “You okay over there?”
He didn’t answer. No sense in disclosing their position. He had no idea what manner of assault they were under.
Thump.
This one landed eight inches away, on the grass in front of the tent.
A bird. He did not know what kind. He wasn’t a birder. It was small, its body no bigger than a plum. Its wings were folded tight to its body.
Micah reached out and touched it. Cold. Stone dead.
Thump. Thump.
They continued to fall, the oddest downpour Micah had ever encountered. Ebenezer crawled up next to him. His hair was in disarray, but his eyes were sharp to the task.
“Arm yourself,” Micah whispered.
Ebenezer retrieved the Tarpley carbine. “What is it?” he said.
“Birds.”
“Birds?”
Micah pointed at the ground. Ebenezer’s fingers crept along the grass; he picked the bird up. It must have felt so light, Micah figured, seemingly hollow, but then, birds were built that way to help them fly. Its feathers were brown except the tips, which were shock white. Its beak was open as though it had died midchirp.
Its eyes were white, too. Not black, as a bird’s eyes should be. The white of mother-of-pearl or of concentrated smoke.
There came a final snapping impact—the sound of something much heavier plummeting to earth. The rain of bodies slackened, then stopped.
Micah and Ebenezer crawled from the tent. Ellen and Minerva were already out. Minerva had one Colt stashed behind her waistband, the other Colt in her right hand, and a flashlight in her left hand. Her flashlight beam swept the meadow. They were everywhere. Two dozen birds, maybe more. Most of them were the small brown-winged ones, but there was at least one large bird—a hawk, could be a falcon. None of them were struggling. No wings flapped. It was as if they had died midflight and tumbled gracelessly from the sky.