Snow(40)

“I’m in charge,” said the boy. He still had Todd’s pistol tucked into his belt. The dead priest’s flowing clothes were tight around the boy’s shoulders but too long, so that the hems bunched at his feet and dragged on the floor. “You both have to do what I say.”

“I told you he’d be mad,” Meg muttered at Kate’s elbow.

On the floor, Todd groaned but did not wake up. Relief washed over Kate. She hadn’t realized just how badly her hands were shaking until that moment.

Chris climbed the chancel steps and approached the altar. In the flickering yellow light, Kate could make out a number of implements lined up there—what appeared to be a golden chalice among them. Also recognizable was the plastic bag full of ammunition for the handgun, as well as the flashlight Kate had brought with them. Chris sorted through the implements until he located what he was looking for, then trudged back down the steps and bent down over Todd’s body.

Kate stepped toward him. “You leave him al—”

With surprising speed, Chris turned and had the pistol pointed at her. Kate’s heart froze, as did her advance on the boy. “Don’t come closer. I’ll shoot you. Won’t I, Meg?”

Meg nodded furiously. “He will. He’ll kill you.”

“If it’s meant to be,” Chris said, “then it’s meant to be. It’s all part of God’s plan. Are you religious?”

“I don’t know.”

Chris seemed puzzled by the answer. His chubby baby face creased. “What does that mean?”

“Please don’t hurt him.” Kate was trying to see what Chris had in his other hand, the item he’d taken off the altar.

“What would God think about your insolence?” Chris said.

“Do you even know what that word means?” Kate countered, though she knew it was a mistake the moment the words came from her mouth.

Chris bolted to his feet, enraged. “Don’t make fun of me!” he shouted, his voice echoing through the chamber. The gun wavered in his hand. “If it wasn’t for me, you and your friend would have died out there! I saw what was happening! I could have left you to die!”

“I didn’t mean to make fun of you.”

“You did! You…you f*cking did!”

Again, Meg recoiled. Kate could almost hear the girl’s heart thudding against the wall of her chest.

“Kneel down,” Chris demanded of Kate. He thrust the gun at her. “Do it!”

Shaking, Kate dropped to her knees. The floor was hard and unforgiving and her whole body suddenly ached.

“Don’t shoot her, Chris,” Meg said, although there was very little compassion in her tone.

The barrel of the gun looked enormous. The longer she stared at it, the more Kate believed she could just reach out and shove her whole fist into the chamber. The thing was suddenly the size of a cannon.

“They persecuted Jesus Christ for all the good He did for people,” Chris said, the gun vibrating in his meaty hand. His face was speckled with sweat. “He tried to save them and they nailed Him to the cross!”

In her horror, Kate caught a whiff of freshly spilled urine, and wondered if the almighty Chris had just wet himself in his excitement.

“He gave his life for the wretched and worthless animals who took His!” Then he pointed the gun at Meg. “Blow out that candle!”

Meg puffed and doused them all in darkness.

Kate pressed her eyes shut and braced herself for the shot. Chris’s heavy respiration seemed to be coming from every angle, every direction, all around her. His Clydesdale footfalls paced all about.

Think of something happy, think of something beautiful, a favorite memory, a happier time, something wonderful that I want to have as my last and final thought before this little son of a bitch drives a bullet through my brain…

Several seconds went by before Kate realized she was still alive. She could hear Chris moving about in front of her where Todd’s body lay supine on the floor. There came a muted ruffling noise, like someone rifling through laundry, followed by a solid thump. Kate’s heart was strumming in her throat.

Then she heard Chris stand. A second later, she could smell his breath—a poisonous concoction of Fritos, beef jerky, and onions—directly in her face. She thought she could smell the oil of the gun, too.

“Please…” Her voice was almost nonexistent.

His lips brushing the side of her face, Chris whispered, “Judge not and ye shall not be judged; condemn not and ye shall not be condemned.”

A dull strike echoed down the nave. Kate felt Chris tense and stand up. Kate opened her eyes and squinted down the dark throat of the church. On either side of the narthex, the bluish stained-glass windows seemed to float like apparitions. At first, Kate could not tell what had made the noise. But then as her eyes acclimated themselves to the gloom, she thought she saw a single palm, all five fingers splayed, pressed against one of the windows.

“They’re out there,” Kate whispered.

Chris must have spotted the hand, too; his respiration increased its tempo again. Under his breath, he muttered, “I told you not to light those candles.”

Meg said nothing. For all Kate knew, the girl had vanished into smoke.

“They know we’re in here,” Kate said.

“Of course they do.” There was unmasked disgust in Chris’s voice. “I should have never opened those doors for you.”