Nick Cutter - Little Heaven

“You took the children,” the Reverend said. “The four of you planned it, and the other two executed it. They are holding them now, aren’t they? You thought that we wouldn’t catch you out? The Lord has laid your plans bare.”

“Why would we take them?” Eb spat blood. “That makes no sense. Can’t you see that?”

What did these people think they were—a roaming quartet of kidnappers combing the woods for isolated camps so they could poach children? It wasn’t logical, but Eb knew logic had a way of dissolving in circumstances like this. Fear and worry ate into reason like acid, making the most ludicrous possibilities seem plausible.

“Oh, but isn’t the devil a coy liar?” The Reverend’s lips fleered into a manic grin. “The father of lies! Do you think you could prey on our most innocent ones? Did you think the Lord and His humble servants would not strike you down for your vile trespasses?”

“How did nobody hear?” Eb said. “Three kids are gone—”

“ Four ,” said the Reverend. “Eli Rathbone is missing again, too.”

A strangled moan from somewhere in the crowd at this news.

“Snatched from his bed like the others,” the Reverend plowed on. “But you knew that, didn’t you?”

“Four kids gone,” Eb said, swallowing the blood collecting in the back of his throat, “and nobody heard anything? How could that be?”

The Reverend said, “Satan has his ways. His minions, too.”

A voice broke out of the crowd. “Where is Cyril?”

The worshippers peeled back. Otis Langtree stood there, flanked by Charlie Fairweather. They were caked in trail dust, wearing backpacks. Eb figured they had just recently rounded back into the compound.

The Reverend stood stunned, a wristwatch stopped midtick. “What?”

“Cyril,” Otis repeated. “Your man.”

“You two left the compound,” said the Reverend with a leaden swallow. “Isn’t that right? You left with the other outsiders. Where did you go?”

“They wanted to get their gear,” said Otis. “From their campground. We guided them back. We would’ve been back sooner, but we got turned around.” He bit the inside of his cheek. “Lost all track of time. Hours that neither one of us can account for. Something’s gone real screwy in those woods, Reverend.”

“And the first thing we noticed coming back is that Cyril, he ain’t standing watch over Eli’s quarters like he was the other night.” Charlie squinted at Amos Flesher—a bold, assessing glance. “Is he still here, Reverend—Cyril, I mean? He anywhere about?”

Weird voltages raced under the Reverend’s face. “I… He should be—”

Ebenezer watched the scene unfold with keen interest. It was happening fast, but then the balance, when it swung, often did so swiftly—

“Reverend?” said Otis. “If Cyril’s not anywhere to be found…” A meaningful pause, with a nod to Eb and Ellen. “With all due respect, I think you might have chased the wrong dog here. I’m not certain these are your culprits.”

The congregants murmured among themselves. Charlie and Otis were two of the most respected persons at Little Heaven.

Reverend Flesher’s eyes went hard. “The Lord has spoken to me, Brother Langtree. These are His words.”

Otis’s head dropped…

No! thought Ebenezer. Don’t let him cow you! Be a man for once in your goddamn life!

Then, slowly, Otis’s head rose again.

Bloody good show! There’s the iron in that spine!

“Reverend, I’ve been with you for many years,” Otis said. “I followed you and I’m going to keep on following. But I think this one time you got your signals crossed up.”

Another murmur raced through the throng, an electric one this time. Dissent, discord. Ebenezer felt a shifting of the tide—a physical, almost visual swing, like the bubble in a carpenter’s level.

“We’ve been with those other two,” said Charlie. “The outsiders. We took them back to their camp, like I said. We left them many miles shy of Little Heaven. But they ain’t running away. They aim to return. I don’t forecast they should arrive much before dark, if so at all tonight.”

“All that’s to say, they were nowhere near here last night,” said Otis.

“And these two,” said Charlie, with a nod at Eb and Ellen. “They been in their bunkhouse all this time, ain’t that right?”

The Reverend’s face shaded pig-belly pink. Eb could practically see the gears inside his skull burning out in stinking puffs of smoke.

“All things considered, I think Cyril might be your man,” said Otis.

“You take that back!” Virgil said tremblingly.

Otis ignored him. “It might not have been Cyril. Snatching four kids right out of their beds, quiet as a whisper? That’d be a tough job for a whole team of men. So… it could have been something else.”

“What else could it be?” the mother of the missing boys said despairingly.

Charlie shot Otis an angry look. “Nothing,” Charlie said. “It’s not worth talking about now. We have to search the woods,” he went on, not looking at the Reverend.

“In groups ,” Otis stressed. “Four or five people to a search party.”

“And if we don’t find them by midafternoon, we send a delegation out to get a proper search team,” said Charlie. “Helicopters, sniffer dogs, and whatnot.”

“I second that idea, Brother Fairweather,” said the missing girl’s mother. “Oh please, let’s do that.”

The fathers of the missing children nodded to each other. One of them went over and helped Ellen up. Another man hauled Ebenezer to his feet. There were no apologies—they couldn’t quite bring themselves to do that, not in front of the Reverend. That small kindness rendered, the men and their wives headed toward the gates. Otis and Charlie followed behind them.

“We’ll pitch in,” Ebenezer called after them.

Charlie accepted the offer with a nod. Eb and Ellen began to make their way toward the gates, too. The remaining worshippers stepped aside to let them pass.

“But you can’t…,” Eb heard the Reverend say.

Only a few had stayed with Reverend Flesher: Doc Lewis, Nate’s father, an unidentified man with the carbuncled face of a toad, and the cook.

“The Lord will punish you!” Flesher shouted. “ Take heed, brethren, lest there be in any of you an evil heart of unbelief, in departing from the living God!” His voice rose to an impotent screech, his face knotted in rage. “The Almighty shall smite you for flouting the word of His earthbound prophet!”

“Oh, shut up, you twat,” Ebenezer muttered, and kept going.

MICAH AND MINERVAarrived back at Little Heaven with dusk coming on. In the waning light, they could see torches burning between the trees.

“Not again,” said Minerva. “Please no.”

Their return had been remarkably uneventful. When the morning sun washed over the Preston School, the field lay empty. Maybe the creatures had an aversion to daylight, because they were nowhere to be seen. Micah and Minny hiked through the day, talking little, and made it back in time to hear the shouts ringing out from the woods surrounding the compound. Names being called in hoarse, frightened voices.

They walked through Little Heaven’s main gates, which had been left unguarded. Was everyone out in the woods? A generator chugged sluggishly, powering the overhead spots—but Micah couldn’t help noticing that the bulbs flickered, blinking out for half a second before burning again. His eye roamed over the compound under the faltering lights, settling on the windowless bunkhouse that the boy Eli had been held in. Neither Cyril nor Virgil was occupying the guard post. He walked over. A busted padlock lay near the door. He turned the knob. The door opened into a small room. The smell was foul. The bed was empty, but there was a gluey stain on the mattress.