Operation Wolfe Cub: A Chilling Historical Thriller (THE TIME TO TELL Book 1) (52 page)

The members throughout the church started to grow restless as he continued, “Wait! It’s no physical mark. If we could identify them, it would be nice. Some churches even began thinking that the curse of the mark of Cain was the black skin of people…yes, Negroes.”

The only African American couple inside the church gasped as Pastor McKoowey quickly caught on. “Oh, don’t
worry, Mr. and Mrs. Holgrim. I don’t think it’s true, and I’m sure other churches will find their way to a better answer at some point.”

He philosophically swirled his hands. “Skin’s not it….I said
all
Cain’s people have to share one thing in common.”

The pastor glanced around, noticing his audience had begun to grow more restless. Still, he carried on, clearing his throat, “Well someone will find the answer…excuse me, that will be all.”

Suddenly, a buzz of whispers swirled throughout the entire congregation. Some even looked as if they wanted to say something, but they didn’t. As Pastor McKoowey began putting away his notes and closing up his Bible, he deviously glanced throughout his audience as if he felt another presence within his church he was not familiar with. Quickly, he cast his ill look aside and nodded a signal for Sister Thelma to take over.

Sister Thelma quickly stood up, but before she could announce a closing hymn, the eldest man, Clarence, raised his shaky hand. “Hey, Mr. Preacher! You must have some kinda idea who Cain or Cain’s people are, don’t ya?”

The audience instantly quieted down to hear what the pastor would say as Clarence spoke a little louder. “Mr. Preacher…what do these mongrels all share ’n common? You gotta tell us more before we go singin’ and forget.”

In the midst of near total silence, Pastor McKoowey suddenly dropped his face, feeling an even stronger presence yet.

A big, bodacious woman, as well as a couple others, speaking, “Yeah, Pastor McKoowey.”

“We want to hear your answer.”

“You must have an idea. Tell us what it is.”

“Yeah, even if it’s wrong. What do you say, everyone? We ain’t leavin’ ‘til you say something.”

“Yeah, we want to know!”

Pastor McKoowey eased his curious churchgoers with the sweep of his hands. While reluctantly gathering himself, he studdered, “I-I’m sorry…I’ve tried…maybe it’ll come out in the future by someone else. I don’t know.”

Someone in the audience piped up, “What’s going on?”

Pastor McKoowey started to look scared. “Okay, okay then…I’ve traced links and connections to Abel, and I just—”

Others in his crowd stood up blurting, “No, you said ‘Cain.’”

“Yeah, we wanna know about the Cains because they’re the bad ones.”

“We don’t want to know about Abel. I want to know about Cain.”

Pastor McKoowey went on, “Okay, quiet down please. You have to believe me…I looked into the names of Adam and Eve’s other offspring, but found nothing. Not even a clue…. really…it’s gonna take someone a whole lot better than me to figure it out if I’m a liar…wait, I-I mean who the liars are.”

He went on, shaking his finger. “That’s all for now, please.”

Others in the audience stood up. “But we haven’t got time.”

“Wait, the end of the world is what it’s about. It’s about last week and this week, isn’t it? It’s all the same, isn’t it?”

“It’s all connected isn’t it, Mr. Preacher?”

Pastor McKoowey thought before nodding. “Well…they could be. Yes, all right then…so now you know. All I can say is—
time will tell
.”

Another person raised her hand, looking irritated, while three others stood up, throwing their hands around. “Hey, wait!
Time will tell?
I know Cain’s people. I got one down the road.”

“What do you mean
time will tell
, I see ’em dropping their kids everywhere.”

“Yeah! Rats is what they are—populating faster than us too! We got no
time to tell
.”

“Yeah, how’s anyone going to fix it before they take over then? That’s
the time to tell
.”

The pastor quickly gathered his material off the podium. “That’s why it’s called ‘prophecy.’ Nobody knows. I’m sorry.”

He then turned to Thelma as he darted away from the podium. “Okay, Sister Thelma, get me out of this…lead the closing song so we can get to our prayer.”

Sister Thelma hopped up, turning to the audience. “Gladly. I have a song everyone needs… okay, everyone. Please turn to page twenty-nine of your songbook. The song is called ‘They Are Telling.’ Everyone, please be ready. First two verses only, skip the third. Here we go.”

She began with the stroke of her hand as everyone joined in at different times, out of order.

They are tell-ing of a Sav-iour, and a joy that they have found,
They are tell-ing of salvation, let me hear the joyful sound.
Let me hear, let me hear, let me hear the joy that they repeat;
Let me hear, let me hear, let me hear the story sweet.
They are telling of a Sav-iour, they are saying he has come,
That he seeks and saves the lost ones, that he brings the wanderers home.
Let me hear, let me hear…
Let me hear, let me hear, story sweet
.

Everyone seated themselves as Pastor McKoowey popped up from the front row, facing everyone with a quick idea. “We’re going to do something new tonight. Instead of me giving prayer, I’d like to choose one of you out there. How’s this sound for something new? Sound good everyone?”

The audience seemed receptive as he selectively combed his eyes through the pews of people.

“Okay then…
um
…let me see all your faces…
um
,
ah
, Mr. Coolidge! Won’t you please stand up and give us your guidance and blessings tonight?”

Instantly, the shuffling noises of shoes beneath the pews began to shift. Most everyone there knew exactly where Eddie was seated, so they all looked back to him, putting him heavy on the spot.

Eddie could have crawled down to the floor, whereas Chantain got caught in the crossfire with a little stage fright herself. She skittishly smiled back at everyone then indirectly whispered, “Get up, Eddie—now. Everyone’s looking at us.”

Eddie sat right where he was, shifting around, not knowing what to do. With no resolution of where to turn, he tried to gather himself up for what everyone was patiently waiting for. Just when he thought he couldn’t do it, he hung his head down to the face of Doll.

Pastor McKoowey rustled his notes in his hands, with a tomfoolery tone in his voice, “
Ah
, come on, Mr. Coolidge… surely there’s something on your mind tonight. Let’s hear it for Mr. Coolidge everyone. Give him some encouragement.”

Subtle words surfaced from all around, “It’s okay, Eddie.”

“Yeah, nobody’s here but us.”

“Pray for your new kid. That’s a good one.”

Then, a dirty fellow with grungy hair, sitting back against the wall, cracked a partial grin. “
He he
, yeah…pray about y’r dolly boy, I say.”

Eddie’s attitude suddenly changed from diffident to defiantly defensive. Without hesitation, he swiped an angry eye back at the man, then turned to Chantain, whispering, “You and that stupid name.

She barely contained her laughter.

Quite unexpectedly, Eddie rose to the occasion with a mighty big thump of his cane. Before he began to pray, he scanned across the pews as if he silently dared anyone to make fun of “Doll” once more. No one said a thing, so he
bowed his head to pray aloud: “Thank you, Lord, for giving me
Doll
and the opportunity to serve you and everyone here with a word. Give
Doll
the strength, courage, and wisdom that he may need to grow up in
Devil’s
. Have mercy on everyone’s souls…God bless and amen.”

Pastor McKoowey kindly spoke out as the audience began shuffling and gathering up their things to leave. “Very good, Mr. Coolidge. Nice prayer for the gift of a child. Next time, though, please try and make it more general for everyone. Thank you…thanks for coming, everyone.”

As everyone slowly shuffled toward the door, Eddie fell in line too, coaxing his family right along.

Before they got too far, Pastor McKoowey waved Chantain down to come forward. Chantain lit up like a Christmas tree, tapping Eddie on the back. “You and Doll go ahead home without me. John needs to talk about church work.”

Eddie turned around, holding traffic in the aisle. “What? Oh, well,
uh
, how are you going to get home? I’ve got the car.”

“Don’t worry about it. John’ll give me a ride.”

Eddie hesitated as he glared back up to the pastor. He then dropped his face, muttering to Chantain, “It’s not about the arguing, is it? You had this planned, didn’t you?”

“No, of course not. Whatever gave you that idea? See you later.”

“You’ve been putting the idea in my head. What is it then?”

Chantain huffed, “You’re overreacting. I’ll be home soon. It won’t be long.”

Eddie flowed back in line with the traffic headed for the doors. “Okay, then. I have to telephone Dad. He’s probably wondering why I never called. What should I say?”

As Chantain inched away, she shrugged her shoulders. “Tell him I forgot or something…oh, and don’t forget about supper.”

“I know. Food’ll be on the stove waiting. Come on, Doll. We gotta go.”

Eddie carried Doll outside, practically dragging his cane all the way to his camper car, then quickly got in to sit for a few seconds. As he started fumbling with the keys behind the wheel, passing church members walking hand-in-hand caught his attention. Some of them waved their good-byes and some didn’t, but most were smiling together as well rounded representatives of couples, families, and extended families.

Briefly, he aspired to sit and watch them a little longer as they loaded up in their cars and drove away. Their overwhelming smiles didn’t rub off on him too well. Those many smiles caused him to lose his own until he looked downright depressed.

Once he began driving away, his depression was relieved. The further he drove down the road, the better he felt. The beautiful scenery assisted him. The radio played on with nice soothing music too. “Out of sight, out of mind” may have been a kind friend to his sudden sadness. He may as well have enjoyed another old saying too. “What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.” Time was wasting for the better part of his concerns, however.

He and Doll quickly made it back home, parked the car, and headed inside. After greeting Major, the first thing to cross Eddie’s mind was to pick up the telephone and get his father on the line.

Cambrin: “Hello, Cambrin here. Your nickel, start talking.”

Eddie:“I just got word that you called.”

Cambrin: “I was beginning to wonder if you’d ring back.”

Eddie:“Yeah, sorry. It’s my message lady.”

Cambrin: “So Chantain’s up to her selective memory lapses again? What’s new besides that?”

Eddie:“No, you tell me what’s new. You got my stuff in the mail I take?”

Cambrin: “Yes, as a matter of fact I did. That’s why I called.”

Eddie:“Okay…well what? Lay it on me.”

Cambrin: “Funny thing. I’d liked to never got the metallurgist and lab techs off my tail.”

Eddie:“
Huh
? What do you mean?”

Cambrin: “You’d think I had some secret bullshit going on, I tell ya.”

Eddie:“What, over a piece of metal?”

Cambrin: “Yeah! After they ran a number of tests, they got curious where the damn stuff came from.”

Eddie:“Oh?”

Cambrin: “I had to make up something—like quick.”

Eddie:“You didn’t tell them about my kid did you? They’ll come take him away if—”

Cambrin: “Oh God no…I told’em you used to play with my welding torches and melted a bunch a stuff for jewelry and whatnot.”

Eddie:“
Whew
good. You had me scared there for a second.”

Cambrin: “Just one problem…they had a hard time swallowing that.”

Eddie:“Why, what’s wrong with melting up a pot o’ gold and stuff?”

Cambrin: “It’s the chemical makeup, they said. I finally said I didn’t know what the hell you threw in it.”

Eddie:“So tell me what it is. It’s got gold in it, right?”

Cambrin: “You’re right about that. In fact, it’s mostly gold, but there’s something else it’s mixed with they never seen before. One-a-them said it had uncharacteristic properties.”

Eddie:“Uncharacteristic properties? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Cambrin: “They called it ‘isolative phonetic properties,’ if I remember right. Two-a-them agreed. They have no way to test it beyond their current lab. They want to keep working on it.”

Eddie:“Isolative phonetics? Isn’t phonetics something about the study of speech or sound or something? What’s that got to do with anything?”

Cambrin: “I didn’t quite understand either. The main guy tried to say, but it went in one hearing aid and out the other. They just begun to study it in a new theory, I think he said.”

Eddie:“Theories don’t help. You got anything useful?”

Cambrin: “I guess what one said was that it can insulate against just about
anything
.”

Eddie:“Insulate against what?”

Cambrin: “That’s what he said…anything. Guess that means
anything
.”

Eddie:“
Hmmm
. Sounds like you got a lab guy all right. What about the sound thing? What’s that?”

Cambrin: “Hate to say, but that ain’t helping you either. He tried to describe it in layman’s terms.”

Eddie:“Oh yeah? Try me.”

Cambrin: “See if I get this right now. Okay, people’s perception of sound’s normally limited to frequencies between about 12 hertz and 20,000 hertz. Animals can get vibrations higher. Then he went off with what I didn’t quite follow.”

Eddie:“You mean dogs can hear better? I know that. What’s so complicated about that?”

Cambrin: “No, no…more weird than that….he said the Earth’s atmosphere and everything such as fire, water, and physical stuff like matter, has a frequency with sound.”

Eddie:“Okay, now you lost me.”

Cambrin: “I told you…okay, I know you’re bright so hush up. In gases, sound is way over six hundred miles per hour I think he said. In water, something like three thousand,
three hundred miles per hour. In steel or iron it’s over thirteen thousand miles per hour. The alloy you gave me tips the scales, I guess, where it is dangerous beyond what they know.”