Kate Wilhelm - Let the Fire Fall

Billy puffed and panted. He looked frightened. “France has mobilized,” he said. “They’ve ordered all our people to report to public buildings by noon tomorrow. They’re locking them up….”

“So? England has come over to our side. You lose one, you gain one. This country won’t permit that kind of nonsense. No U.S. government is going to move against a religion. Don’t forget that, Billyboy. We’re on the side of the angels.” He turned to Obie and said, “You know all that. You’re disappointed right now. We all are. But we got a plan. The worst thing you could do now is soften up, back down.”

So Obie made his speeches, or preached his sermons, as you will.

“And God spake unto me. And God said, ‘I will send down my cloud and remove the stranger from the hands of the non-believers and deliver him to you.’” Obie’s face glowed with the remembered rapture of that moment when the world had witnessed the power of God, Who could order the clouds at will. “And there will be those of evil who will speak with lying tongues and offer up reasons and explanations of this thing that I ill cause to happen. They must be smitten, their lies must be stilled. From Psalm 109: Hold not thy peace, O God of my praise; For the mouth of the wicked and the mouth of the deceitful are opened against me: they have spoken against me with a lying tongue. They compassed me about also with words of hatred; and fought against me without a cause…. Set Thou a wicked man over him; and let Satan stand at his right hand. When he shall be judged, let him be condemned; and let his prayer become sin. Let his days be few; and let another take his office. Let his children be fatherless, and his wife a widow. Let his children be continually vagabonds, and beg: let them seek their bread also out of desolate places.” Obie paused there, then went on in a strong whispering voice that sent chills through those in the rows and rows of seats, lighted only by the flickering tapers. “‘The Lord at thy right hand shall strike through kings in the day of His wrath. He shall judge among the heathen, He shall fill the places with the dead bodies; He shall wound the heads over many countries.’ He shall wound the heads over many countries!” This was shouted in a voice of thunder. “The leaders shall fall, never to rise again. The heathen shall fall, never to rise again. The house of the Lord shall be put in order. And the Voice spoke to me and said, ‘Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord from henceforth.’ And I looked and beheld a white cloud, and upon the cloud one sat like unto the Son of man, having on his head a golden crown, and in his hand a sharp sickle. ‘For the time is come for thee to reap; for the harvest of the earth is ripe.’ The time is ripe. The harvest waits. Armaggedon is now!”

Obie spoke in New York, Chicago, Los Angeles, and then was threatened by a mob that overran the MM’s who surrounded him in his public appearances. The mob was made up of middle-class, middle-aged people for the most part, but sprinkled with youths. “Anti-Christ!” they screamed. “Satan!” An MM rocket-boosted hovercraft appeared over them spraying them with gas, and the panic that had been there already was increased geometrically. The hallucinogenic gas was illegal, of course, and it turned the mob of seven hundred thousand maddened citizens into a mob of that many schizophrenics. When the dead, of fright, heart attacks, suicides, assaults, etc., were counted the total came to 1,074. The MM’s were accused of the gas attack, which they didn’t deny, but no arrests were made. Although sixteen of the dead were policemen, authority continued to avoid, trembling, a direct confrontation with religion. Obie’s tour was not slowed by even one day.

At Mount Laurel, where the laurel woods were dense and deeply shadowed, a seldom-used path led down a steep slope where a creek plunged over rocks in a frenzy of white water, fell over ledges, formed a deep, green pool, surface still but busy underneath, and continued to splash and fall down the mountain to the piedmont country below. The path was an old deer trail that had almost been overgrown when it was rediscovered by Lorna on her first visit to the camp. She picked her way along it carefully, conscious of the loose rocks, and of the dark woods where she knew snakes lurked.

It was worth the risk once the pool was reached and the falls that formed the pool drowned out the rest of the world with a roar. No one had ever told her not to wander off alone, but it was implied that a true believer didn’t need solitude, didn’t seek out the lonely places, didn’t feel the call of the unspoiled spots like the falls and the pool. Group participation, team games, controlled hikes through the woods, the scheduled S&S (stimulation by drugs and sex) nights, those were the accepted means of working off the energies of the young. She felt vaguely that she should resist the desire to seek out the unfrequented places, but decided that it was harmless if she yielded only occasionally. So she picked her way on the trail that the laurel and grapevines were reclaiming, and she was totally unprepared for the voice that broke the silence of the woods.

“My God! Lorna Daniels.”

Lorna jumped. A woman stepped out of the shadows staring at her. The roar of the falls was too loud to hear what she said next, something muttered in a low voice. Lorna recognized her: Dr. Harvey. They stood looking at each other for several seconds, Winifred taking in the flowing hair, the look of stunned surprise on the girl’s face, the hesitation. Lorna didn’t know how to evaluate her, Winifred decided. Lorna didn’t know if she should be greeted as another believer, or as an enemy in the camp. She laughed shortly and started down the trail after motioning for Lorna to follow.

Lorna hung back, strangely excited, yet frightened. Dr. Harvey might know about her parents, and Derek. She must be all right, or she wouldn’t be here.

Winifred led the way to the pool, then halfway around it to a spot where there was a great slab of granite. She Sat down and stared at the water. When Lorna approached, she said, “You’re a camp counselor? Is that the reason for the uniform?” The uniform was gray, the soft gray of the MM’s; slim pants, belted with a black leather belt, short-sleeved shirt gray like the pants, and an insignia on the sleeve, a ring with a sword sticking through it, and under that a narrow black crescent.

Lorna nodded and sat down also.

“Your mother told me you had become an active member, but somehow it was hard to believe.” She smiled gently at Lorna. “Lisa showed me a copy of your essay on your conversion.”

Lorna blushed. “I was younger then,” she said. “I said a lot of things that must have sounded silly.”

Winifred shook her head. “No. It made sense for an eighteen-year-old.” She lighted a cigarette and smoked silently, no longer looking at Lorna.

“Where are they. Dr. Harvey? My parents. Are they all right? I know they don’t want to have anything to do with me any more, but—”

“Honey pot, they are fine. I put them to sleep personally….”

“Why? That’s… that’s monstrous….”

“At their request.” Winifred finished the sentence matter-of-factly.

“My father wouldn’t request something like that.”

“He did. So did your mother. It was her idea.”

“I don’t believe you.” Lorna stood up and started to walk away angrily.

“Why don’t you ask me why they requested it?” Winifred said musingly. “Or do you know why?”

Lorna stopped, but didn’t turn around. “I don’t know why. I don’t believe they did.”

“Lorna, listen a minute, then stamp away mad. I don’t believe in Obie Cox. He’s the world’s biggest phony. I don’t believe in his mission. I don’t believe in his miracles. I don’t believe in the Star Child’s miracles. I think Obie is going to set up a theocratic society where he, or Merton more likely, will be dictator. I know he would have had your parents picked up and tortured to get from them what he wanted. They knew it too. I know he wants to kill Blake on sight. I know he is using a hypnotic gas to influence his audiences. I know he uses the Listening Booths as his feedback, so that there are no secrets any longer. He echoes what he hears from the booths, and the people think he is a prophet. He has used you in this way, and probably hopes to use you to guide him to your brother, whom he will have killed, and to Blake, who is his mortal enemy. I know that Obie… ”