Kate Wilhelm - Let the Fire Fall

Obie paced and tried to arrange his thoughts about the impending interview, Dee Dee helped. She lay stretched out on the twenty-foot-long couch and made appropriate comments from time to time.

“What if he turns the evil eye on you and you develop stomach cancer like that fat fool Wakeman did?”

“I am protected,” Obie said, scowling at her.

“Of course. What if he produces a miracle in your presence that you can’t duplicate, or explain?”

The Star Child worked miracles from time to time, it was said. He could appear in, or vanish from any room of the estate that housed him. No locks could bar his passage. He could hear thoughts, whispers, conversations, no matter how far removed from the speakers. He had prescience and clairvoyance. He was in constant telepathic communication with his people. And of course, those in contact with him still became ill, or had strange accidents. Those who denied it were paid off, or lied, or were deceived.

Obie glowered at Dee Dee and told her to pull her skirt down. She smiled at nothing in particular and raised her leg, studying it intently. “Take me with you, Obie. I want to see the Star Child too.”

“No.”

“Yes.” Dee Dee narrowed her eyes, staring at the ceiling. “I have a feeling, Obie. A hunch.” She knew that Obie had faith in hunches, ever since his hunch concerning Blake had proven so true, since his original hunch about becoming an evangelist had succeeded beyond anyone’s expectations. He believed that everyone had hunches as strong as his own, and that they demanded the right to fulfillment. He looked at her suspiciously and Dee Dee smiled.

“Tell me about it,” Obie said after a long wait.

“Nothing to tell, Obie dear. I have a feeling that I will go with you and that I should go with you. I see us standing with the Star Child, side by side. That’s all.” She laughed inwardly at the lines of indecision that appeared on his face. If she had made it too detailed he wouldn’t have believed her, but leaving it hazy like that, he was forced to buy. He did.

“Okay, Dee Dee.” Obie continued to look at her, and Dee Dee continued to swing her leg.

In the beginning Obie had voiced the fundamentalist views that he was familiar with, felt comfortable with. But then, needing Dee Dee, knowing of her promiscuity, there had been a subtle change in his views, and very gradually in the messages he taught. When they’d bailed Everett out of trouble for the third time over a twelve-year-old boy, the change had speeded up, until now Obie was preaching that there was nothing wrong in itself with sexual promiscuity, that only when children were produced that were destined to be fatherless, or homeless, or unwanted was such behavior against the will of God. This was much easier to live with. Everett blessed him again and again, and rewrote his will naming Obie as the sole beneficiary. He had known salvation lay with Obie and he had been proven right and was delirious with joy at being cleansed of sin.

With a lazy motion Dee Dee unzipped the gown that had slipped up around her hips, and she stretched, reaching both hands over her head. Obie moved toward her automatically and when he lay on her, panting, hot, heavy, her smile was even wider.

Later in bed with Merton she told him that she was going to see the Star Child.

“What for?” he said, tickling her thigh with the tips of his fingers. She shivered obligingly.

“Curiosity. Boredom. Christ, those endless sermons, those endless lines of goons, those endless moronic hymns…. That’s nice. Do it again.”

Obie found that he couldn’t plan what he would say to the Star Child, what he would demand from him. The Star Child was an unknown factor. Most of the people on Earth hated and feared him and what he represented, and there were the rumors concerning his powers, denied, of course, but still enough to make the Star Child eerie. Obie thought and thought about him and what to say to him and came up with nothing.

October, hot and dry, brought forest fires and thick hazy air that was laden with dust, ashes, smoke. Stream beds cracked, leaves fell prematurely, browned and twisted, lacking the splendor of fall’s magic. Migratory birds flew early, and a severe winter was predicted. Obie and Dee Dee were picked up at the airstrip at Mount Laurel and flown to the estate where the Star Child was held. Accompanying them was the senator from their state, Calvin Taylor Dinwiddie.

The vertical take-off plane was heavily draped so that they couldn’t see out, and it flew for nine hours before landing at eleven that night, and they had no way of knowing if it had flown directly to their destination, or if it had circled any of the time. They were as much in the dark as before about the location of the estate. They were shown to rooms in a private house on the property. They would be received by the director at ten in the morning, and meanwhile if they desired anything at all, there were phones in both rooms connecting with the switchboard, the kitchen, etc. They were shown to adjoining, but not connecting, rooms, and as soon as the guard-servant left them Dee Dee went to Obie’s room. They had decided previously that the rooms probably were bugged, and probably were filmed during the stay of any visitor. Dee Dee leaned against the door and said, “I suppose we can order some supper?”

Obie shrugged and lifted the phone. Behind Dee Dee the door moved slightly and she stepped away from it, allowing it to open. Obie stared past her at the new arrival. Dee Dee turned then to look also. She stared for a moment, stifled a scream, and fainted.

“SISTER Diane had a little fainting spell,” Obie said, trying to shove the senator from the room. Calvin Taylor Dinwiddie stared from Obie to Dee Dee, who was lying on a couch, ashen-faced, sipping a drink. He could hardly see her for the other men in the room. Security guards in the guise of cooks, gardeners, teachers, they were all there. Senator Dinwiddie resisted the push toward the door.

“Now, Brother Cox, you just relax and take it easy now. Sister Diane is in good hands.” He gave ground, sidestepping slightly to go to the side of the door instead of through the doorway. “Sister Diane,” he called. “If you want me to get these people out of here, you just say the word.”

Dee Dee didn’t say anything. Obie gave up with the senator and announced generally, “If you gentlemen will kindly leave now. I’m sure Sister Diane is feeling better. If you will kindly leave us now and let us pray together….”

No one was paying any attention.

“Miss, did Johnny touch you?”

“Did he say anything to you?”

“Has he been in touch with you before?”

Lenny Mallard stood slightly behind the others watching Dee Dee closely. When she appeared to be regaining her composure somewhat, he said with authority, “I think that Miss MacLeish should be allowed to rest now. We can talk to her in the morning.” The others looked from her to Lenny, then one by one left the room. Lenny was the last to leave.

“You started to order some supper,” he said at the door. “Why don’t you go ahead and do that. You two must want to be alone. Things to talk about. I’ll see you at breakfast.”

Dee Dee sat up suddenly. “I want to go home,” she said.

Obie crossed the room swiftly to kneel at the couch and take her hand. “It’s all right now, Dee Dee,” he said. “There’s nothing here.”

She pulled loose and sat up. She looked at Lenny. “I won’t stay. I want to go home now. Tonight.”

“I’m afraid that’s impossible, Miss MacLeish,” Lenny said smoothly. “There’s no transportation out of here tonight.”

“The plane is still here. I’ll pay whatever it costs to fly it out of here.”