The Last Harvest(38)

“The next group’s still in abortion. You’ve probably got another four minutes until they catch up,” Ali adds.

The Pine twins, Charlie or Chip, I can never tell them apart, are wearing matching speedos, but the one who steps forward’s got fake sores all over his body and a set of rotting teeth.

“Tate? Is that really you?” He shields his eyes from the glare of the disco ball. “It’s Charlie.”

“Yeah, hey.” I let out a nervous laugh. “What are you supposed to be, anyway?”

He shrugs. “AIDS, man.”

“That’s seriously not right,” I say. “You know, you don’t have to—”

“Red rover in three,” a voice spits over the walkie-talkie.

“Showtime, boys.” Mr. Brett rubs his hands together and puts on his leather cap.

“I can’t watch this,” I say to Ali.

We back into the next tent where we catch up to one of the tours. The room is dark except for the flashlights the choir members are shining up on their faces while they chant some kind of made-up Latin. An over-the-top goth kid pulls a normal-looking kid out of the choir and into the spotlight.

“Come over to my house, Jerry,” the one with the fake green Mohawk says stiffly. “We can play violent video games and listen to heavy metal music. It’ll be fun.”

“But isn’t that dangerous?” The normal-looking one gives an exaggerated shrug.

“Not at all.” Goth kid eases a large plastic silver pentagram necklace over his head. “You look cool now. You’re one of us.”

Clearly, we’ve entered the Devil worship room, but they have no clue what the Devil’s really like, what he’s capable of.

That he might already be here.

I look at Ali and she pulls me away from the group into a narrow passageway.

The walls are made out of soft black stretchy fabric. Midway through the tunnel, she stops and turns to face me. Standing on her tiptoes, she whispers in my ear, “You didn’t forget me.”

There’s something in her eyes, a softness I haven’t seen since she came over to my house the night of my dad’s funeral. “I could never forget you,” I say as I place my hand on her waist, my thumb brushing a bare sliver of skin between her top and her jeans. The feeling I get when I touch her makes every muscle in my body tense. It’s like I’m a live grenade and she’s got her finger on the pin. One tiny movement, the smallest gesture, and I’m not sure I’ll be able to hold myself together. She moves closer. I can feel the heat coming off of her … or me … or both of us. Eyes glistening in the dark, lips parted, I lean down to kiss her, when “Welcome to hell” booms over the speakers, followed by strobe lights and heavy metal music blasting through the tunnel. The fabric walls cave and bend all around us. People’s hands are pawing at us, faces pressing into the fabric like souls trying to get out of hell. Ali grabs my hand, pulling me through the rest of the tunnel away from the group pushing in behind us.

We emerge into an all-white room with harp music playing. Reverend Devers is standing up on a narrow ledge of a giant wood cross, taking a huge bite out of a Rice Krispies Treat. Ali clears her throat and he stuffs the rest of it into the pocket of his white robe.

“Welcome to salvation.” He spreads his arms out wide, quickly slipping his hands through the rope loops on either side of the crucifix.

Ali tries to stifle a laugh. “Hey, Reverend. We’re not part of the group … but you’ve got some, um, marshmallow? On your nose.”

“Heavens to Betsy.” He chuckles as he wipes it with his robe. “Is that Clay Tate with you?”

“Hi, Reverend.” I give him a sheepish nod.

“I heard you were here. I hope this means you’re back on the team. I don’t mean to cast stones, but Tyler sure did make a mess of things with the homecoming game last night. We could sure use you.”

“Well, I don’t know about that…”

“Nice wig.” Ali saves me from having to come up with a coherent response.

“Oh, this old thing?” He shakes his long brown hair. “Got it from my hippie costume from last Halloween. Jesus was a hippie.” He shrugs with a goofy smile. “But we still love him.”

“Well, the next group should be coming in any second,” Ali says as she pulls me toward the exit.

“Clay?” Reverend calls out. “Don’t be a stranger. Come see me at the church anytime. Miss Granger was telling me how well you’re doing. We could just chitchat or talk ball. Whatever you want, son.”

“Yeah, sure, okay.”

As we head outside, Ali says, “I know a place where no one will find us.”

“Where?”

She pulls me up the front steps, back inside the Preservation Society. “The secret room.”

“Yeah, but Tyler and the others are in there.”

“Not that one.” She leads me down the hall past Mr. Neely’s office, stopping in front of the basement door. “The real one.”





23

I’M FOLLOWING Ali down the dimly lit stairs when I hear a girl moaning.

It’s not a pleasant moan. There’s something about the tone of her voice that hits me right in the gut. I run down the rest of the stairs to find Jess sprawled across the cot in the cell, Jimmy Doogan standing over her.