"Yeah. Well, thanks Millie. You've been a lot of help."
"May I ask why you wanted to know all this?"
"Oh, nothing. Curiosity."
"Okay," she said. "I'll let you go. You are going to buy one of our books when it comes out, aren't you?"
He smiled. "Of course."
"I'll let you go then. Bye-bye."
"Bye." He hung up, feeling numb. He glanced involuntarily toward the hallway. At the end of the hall, he knew, Brother Elias was sitting calmly in his holding cell.
He had the sudden feeling that, within that cell, Brother Elias was looking toward him and smiling. Jim stood up. He had to get away from here. He knew he should talk to Brother Elias, confront him, but he did not want to see the man right now. Not until he had had time to sort things out. He picked up his hat and walked out to the front desk. Rita had just left, and Pete and Judson were signing in, coming on duty. He waved tiredly, perfunctorily, at them and walked across the silent parking lot to his car.
He drove home on instinct, his mind still on Milk Ranch Point. He thought of the stories he and his friends had told each other when they were kids. The ghosts of abandoned babies, perpetually crying in the forest for mothers who would never come. Infants left at the point to fend for themselves who had grown into wild, animalistic killers. Goose bumps arose on his arms, though the air tonight was warm.
He parked the car on the street in front of his house and walked across theunmown lawn to the front door. His mind was preoccupied. He did not see the pools of unfamiliar shadow next to the garage. He did not see the shadows move. He did not see the shadows buzz.
Father Andrews drove to the church after leaving the sheriff's office.
He had a Bible study group to meet with at seven, and though he didn't really feel like going through with it, he couldn't cancel out now. He parked the car and walked across the gravel toward the front door of the church. Looking down, he could see minuscule bits of multicolored glass in the gravel. His eyes moved up to the twin stained-glass windows in the front of the building. Good as new. No one could ever tell that anything had happened here, save for the slightly lighter tone of the new paint on the bricks.
He took out his key and opened the door, turning on the lights as he walked in. He poked his head in the chapel, to make sure everything was all right. The setting sun, its rays converted to red and blue and yellow and orange as it streamed through the chapel windows, fell on the altar. Everything was as it should be.
Father Andrews walked down the short hall to the large Sunday school classroom that was used for the Bible study group. He wondered idly why this church hadn't been burned. He thought of Brother Elias and felt a cold finger tickle his spine. He was suddenly aware of the fact that he was all alone in the church. He hurried into the classroom and pulled the small portable radio out of the storage closet, turning it on, grateful for the sound of another voice.
He busied himself preparing for the meeting, trying to keep his mind off of what had happened at the sheriff's office.
Billy Ford and Glen Dunaway were the first to arrive, driven by Glen's mother. Both were giggling as they came into the classroom. Father Andrews smiled. "What's so funny?" he asked.
Billy shook his head. "Nothing." Both boys giggled again, whispering to each other.
Susie Powell stepped through the doorway a moment later. She was running her hands through her hair, as though she were trying to comb something out. She looked up at Father Andrews. "What are all those flies doing out there?" she asked.
"You know what they're attracted to," Glen said, and both he and Billy laughed loudly.
Flies? Father Andrews felt the fear well up again, and he strode out of the classroom toward the front of the church. He stood for a moment in the open doorway. Two pairs of headlights pulled into the parking lot. It was dark, and he could see nothing.
But he could hear, even above the engines of the cars, a droning buzzing.
Flies.
Brother Elias had predicted there would be flies.
His mind went over all of the Biblical plagues. Was that what was happening here? He felt like calling the bishop. He was not equipped to deal with something like this. He did not have the experience. But he knew the bishop would not understand, would think he was crazy, would dismiss him from his position.
Maybe he should be dismissed from his position. And get as far away from Randall as possible.
But, no, he couldn't do that. He had responsibilities. And he owed it to the sheriff to stay. He was involved with this, whether he liked it or not.
He stood by the front door and watched two more groups of children run to the church, swatting the flies away as they ran. More headlights pulled into the parking lot.
An earthquake was supposed to come after the flies, Father Andrews thought, and he suddenly felt sick to his stomach. What if it happened while they were at their Bible study? The church might cave in, killing all those kids.
But it was too late to call it off now. Most of the parents had already driven off and wouldn't be back for an hour.
They would practice civil defense tonight, he decided, duck and-cover.
Ann Simon, the last member of the study group, came running through the doorway, and Father Andrews closed the heavy wooden door behind her.
"To keep the flies out," he explained.
"We have a whole bunch at our house, too," Ann said as they walked toward the classroom. "I don't know where they all came from."
Father Andrews told the children the story of Joseph and his brothers, they practiced civil defense and talked for a moment about earthquakes, they had refreshments.
Nothing happened.
After the children had left, Father Andrews locked the door behind them and went into the chapel. He spent the night there, on his knees, praying.
He prayed for guidance but none came.
The earthquake hit at precisely ten after midnight.
Gordon and Marina had been making love, and they stopped in mid movement hardly daring to breathe, as the ground beneath them jolted in harsh irregular waves. There was the sound of shattering glass from the kitchen, the sound of something crashing in the bathroom. The hanging lamp above their bed was swinging wildly. "What is it?"
Marina screamed, clutching his back.
"An earthquake," Gordon said, feigning a calm he did not feel.
"Oh God," Marina said, closing her eyes. "Oh my God."
They held each other tight.
Jim had lain awake all night, waiting for this moment, knowing it would happen, preparing himself, but he still felt a helpless primal feeling of panic as he felt the earth shift beneath the bed. He jumped up, shaking Annette awake and rushing down the hall to the kids' rooms. He tookSuzonne in his arms and jerked Justin out of bed, running back to his own bedroom.
He and Annette and the kids stood under the doorway, waiting, until the quake was over.
Father Andrews, kneeling before the altar of the church, closed his eyes tighter, prayed more fervently, and hoped that the shaking would stop.
On the "Today" show the next morning, John Palmer said it was the first recorded earthquake in Arizona in over a hundred years. He said the quake measured 4.5 on the Richter scale and was centered just above the small town of Randall on the Mogollon Rim.
Jim sat in his office, the door locked, the phone off the hook, waiting for Gordon and Father Andrews to show up. He pulled a small piece off the glazed donut on his desk in front of him and swallowed it down with a sip of lukewarm coffee. The damage from the quake hadn't been that bad. He'd compared notes with Ernst at the fire department, and both of them had agreed that the damage was much less than either of them had expected. Of course the actual monetary amount of damages hadn't been assessed yet and probably wouldn't be for another week or so, but none of the buildings in town had collapsed and no one had been seriously injured.