The chapel was silent.
Whatever had been here was gone, and he stood shakily, staring at the mess in front of him, afraid to touch it, afraid to go near it.
He understood now that the angel had to be protected…but he didn’t want to protect it. Someone had spoken to him, someone had put that image in his head, but he was less sure than ever that it was God, and he realized for the first time that it was not the possibility of God’s wrath that most frightened him but the angel itself. Whatever the angel might be, it was causing havoc, and he shuddered to think about what it might do once it was resurrected and became…the thing it was becoming.
The impulse to flee Magdalena returned, but Father Ramos knew he would not do that. As terrified as he might be, it was his sacred duty to look after his flock, to see to both their safety and salvation. Besides, he was a part of this. He had been there that night and while he had not shot a gun, he had done nothing to stop those who had.
Tired, scared, emotionally drained, he put out the remaining candles, walked past the pile of mud, giving it a wide berth, and locked himself into his quarters.
Where he took off his collar and cassock, put on his pajamas and went immediately to sleep.
And dreamed of a world where flying demons filled the sky.
TWENTY TWO
Ross decided not to go to the farmer’s market. It wasn’t as though he was needed. In fact, the ranch’s egg and honey stocks were both so low at the moment that it made little sense for Lita and Dave to sell there, though they wanted to keep up the routine and maintain contact with customers. But Jill wasn’t going this time. She hadn’t baked any cookies or pastries this week, so she had nothing to sell, and if she wasn’t going to be there, he didn’t want to be either.
“Dick suck mushroom! Pickaninny pie!”
There was that, too. The girl. Ross didn’t want to see her. Was afraid to see her, though he was not sure why.
So while Lita and Dave drove off to town, Ross stayed behind to feed the chickens and see if there were eggs to collect. He did not find out whether any eggs had been laid, however, because when he went outside and peered through the wire fence, he saw, in the center of the yard, a gigantic chicken, a foot taller than any of the others surrounding it, walking in an erratic circle, squawking hoarsely, its head twisting strangely atop its unusually long neck. The sight made him shiver. And when the bird’s eye met his own, holding his gaze even as the scrawny neck rotated unnaturally beneath it, Ross turned away, heading back to the shack.
He’d wait for Dave to come back before trying to feed any animals.
He turned on the television to drown out the infernal squawking. On the Today show, there was a story about a new poll that had been conducted regarding religious beliefs. A majority of Americans reported that they believed in angels, and a significant number thought they were personally protected by a guardian angel.
He changed the channel to CNN, where they were covering a shooting at a North Carolina high school, a subject more comfortingly normal.
He could still hear the chicken outside, and turned up the volume. Did he actually believe that an angel had been shot out of the sky here in Magdalena? No. But something had certainly been shot down—and he was pretty sure he’d seen it himself Christmas night. But what was it and why was it here and how was it causing all of this weird shit to happen? He didn’t know. It was a problem unsolvable by his rational, unimaginative mind. And it scared the hell out of him.
Maybe, he thought, it was time to move on. He had some money now, and a job (sort of). Maybe he should thank Lita and Dave for their hospitality and hightail it back to Phoenix.
But he couldn’t just leave them like that.
And what about Jill?
For someone living out in the middle of nowhere in a shack on his cousin’s property, his life was definitely getting complicated.
Ross was on his laptop, checking on the status of various resumes he’d posted on jobhunting sites, when he heard his name being called from outside. He jumped in his seat, startled, and for a brief fraction of a second thought: Chicken! But then he recognized Jill’s voice and hurried out to meet her.
She was standing in front of the shack, drinking water from a plastic sports bottle.
He looked around for her Econoline, but didn’t see it. “You walked here?” he asked incredulously.
“Sure,” she said, pushing the cap down on her bottle.
“It’s, like, five miles.”
“So?”
He shook his head. “You’re incredible.”
“Would you care to join me? It’s nice weather for a walk,” she suggested.
“You always think it’s nice weather for a walk.”