The Gathering (30 page)

They had been riding since the previous day and Bill knew that the party would have to stop at St. Viviana's.
 
It wasn't far now.
 
Bill was from Salt Lake II and all the people in his village, actually everyone he had ever met, had always referred to the Keepers of Holy Mother Church, St. Viviana's, as KMC.
 
The older folks would always laugh and ask if anyone wanted original recipe, grilled or extra crispy.
 

Bill was eighteen and he was making this trip to prove himself a man to the only one that mattered, Alisha Stark.
 
He had seen her several years ago at the Gathering at Salt Lake II.
 
Every six months he would beg and plead with his father to go just so he might see her and speak to her.
 
At the last Gathering he had even mustered up the courage to ask her to dance, even though one of the heathens from her village had scowled and watched them until their dance was over.
 
He had tried to tell her then of his love, but the heathen had come over and cut in.
 
This was the time to tell her and he was sure he could convince Alisha of the true path to the Heavenly Father so they could be married.
 
After all, he would be going off on his mission soon.
 
The sun rose ever higher and the heat became more intense as Bill came over the ridge.
 

There in the distance he saw the KMC and not far from the village was his wagon train.
 
As Bill rode closer to the wagons, he noticed that they were stopped just outside the gates.
 

"
Why would they be outside
?" he wondered.
 

The closer he came to the wagons, the thicker the cloud of smoke and the rank fumes of sweetness grew, clogging his throat.
 
He began to choke on it.
 

Bill dismounted his horse and walked towards the wagons, taking his horse’s reigns in his right hand he approached the last wagon and peered inside.
 
It was empty.
 
He then looked in the next wagon and then the next.
 
They were all empty.
 
He was surrounded by silence; the only sound he heard was his horse's hooves against the dirt and rock of the makeshift road.
 
He stopped and tied his horse to the lead wagon.
 
He patted the animal on the neck, as the steed began to step anxiously; Bill walked around the lead horses of the wagon, which he noticed were also nervous, snorting against the hot air.
 
Dread began to seep in.

Bill gagged as he moved towards the corner of the village, where the fetid wind grew ever thicker.
 
His nervousness quelled as he came around the corner and saw his traveling party standing in the main gate of St. Viviana's.
 
He grabbed his heart in mock exasperation, relieved to see them all there.
 
He put on his best game face and walked towards the crowd.
 

"Hello, what are we all doing…?”

His words trailed away as he saw several of the women in their party, including his mother and sister, crying and standing to the right of the gate, their faces pale and drawn.
 
Several other women were holding their children to their breasts, trying to stop them from crying.
 

Bill looked over at the gate and walked towards the men, several of whom were also outside the gate, leaning against the wall.
 
They were pale and white, gasping for air, which was sweet and smoky and now also laced with the scent of vomit.
 
Confused and frightened, Bill moved to the gate and pushed his way into the compound.
 
He felt several hands try to stop him, but he shoved them aside.
 
Once inside the gate he stopped.

The first thing he noticed was the way the ground changed under his feet.
 
He looked down expecting to see a puddle of water, but it wasn't water.
 
It was red and thick.
 
A pool of coagulated blood had encompassed his feet.
 
He followed the trail of blood to its source and it was then he felt his stomach lurch.
 
He couldn’t breathe.
 
Gasping for air, dizzy, he staggered back and fell against the wall behind him. The horror before him was like nothing he had ever seen.

It was a massacre and the carnage was fanatical.
 
There was blood everywhere.
 
Body parts littered the ground like needles that had fallen from a pine.
 
Some of the villagers had been impaled on giant spikes that rose randomly into the air; their bodies bloodied and suspended in the air like grotesque marionettes.
 
The majority of the villagers were lying broken and battered, scattered about the compound.
 

A woman was lying on the ground, holding tightly to the lifeless body of her infant.
 
The side of her head had been crushed and she had apparently fallen on her child, causing it to suffocate.
 
Others had been beaten, stabbed, dismembered and tortured before they were killed.
 
Smoke came from all of the windows and several mounds of what appeared to be bodies, now black and charred.
 
Some of them had still been alive when the fire consumed them.
 
Their lifeless charred arms and hands reaching for mercy and their eyes, white and open, pleading.

Bill tried desperately to breathe when he felt something sticky and wet between his fingers, which were still pressed against the wall.
 
He pulled his hand forward and saw that it was covered with blood and hair.
 
He slowly turned and again felt his stomach lurch.
 
Hanging from a nail in the wall behind him was a young girl's head.
 
The head lolled gently against the wall, attached by long brown hair as her lifeless dead eyes plead with Bill to help her.
 
Bill could tell that she was no more than sixteen.

Bill grabbed the handkerchief from his back pocket and frantically wiped the blood from his hands.
 
He started to back up and felt his foot slide back into the giant puddle of blood.
 
His heart raced and his head spun.
 
The horrible visions in front of him began to blur as his feet slipped through the rancid mud.
 
It was only then, in that moment, he realized what that sweet smell was; it was the smell of death.
 
He felt the stabbing in his gut and the spit in his mouth and he pushed though the group.
 
Stumbling out the gate he moved through the crowd and stopped, leaning forward, almost falling in his daze.

A large man with thinning hair and gray eyes turned and saw Bill stumble.
 
Edward Nyland reached for his son and held him as he began to retch.
 

Above the crowd, perched on the wall, a falcon watched.

37

Larry Hearst was sitting at the breakfast table watching his oldest son from across the room.
 
The other dignitaries were also there, talking and eating.
 
Aaron Levine leaned over in Larry’s line of sight and raised his eyebrows.
 

“You alright?”
 
He asked.

Larry picked up his fork and started to eat again.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Jeb was sitting on the other side of Larry and watched Scott as intently as Larry had been watching Sam.
 

Aaron sighed and leaned back.

“The two of you look like someone pissed on your Wheaties.”

Jeb and Larry smiled.
 
Chelsea Hearst had walked over and was picking up a piece of sausage from her father’s plate.

“What are Wheaties?”

Her dad pulled her braid and she leaned in and he kissed her cheek.

“They were a kind of cereal from before the war.
 
Go get your own plate.”

“I’m not hungry," she said as she grabbed another piece of sausage and ran over to the table where Hannah Turner sat.

Aaron laughed and shook his head.

“Things happen a lot faster now, don’t they?”

Jeb nodded and looked over at Henry, who was trying to convince a few girls that he would be the perfect date for that evening, and he smiled, as they appeared to be buying it.

“It’s hard," Jeb said.

Larry and Aaron looked at Jeb as he continued.

“I know I have to let him go, but after everything that’s happened in the last couple of days, I just want to hold on to him, make sure he’s safe.
 
I know he’s a man, but he’s my little boy too.”

Larry reached over and gripped Jeb around the neck.
 
He felt the same way about Sam.

“Well, it’s not like they would be moving to my neck of the woods or Salt Lake II.
 
Just a half a day away, and you’d actually like your in-laws.”
 
Aaron said.

Larry smiled.
 

“Yeah, I know.
 
I knew it when I saw that look on his face.
 
He’s done.
 
Just like I was when I met his mother.”

Jeb shook his head.

“I didn’t even know Scott knew Sara.
 
Now I see them together and, well…I guess I better let Beth know so it doesn’t come as a shock.”

Beth and Lilli had been watching their husbands.
 
Beth threw a roll at Jeb’s head.
 
He turned and looked at her with an eyebrow cocked. She pointed at her husband with a determined look on her face.

“All I care about is that my boy is alive and healthy and after what I saw this girl’s mom do last night, he can stay here forever.”

With that, Beth Forrester turned back around to continue a previous conversation with Ellen Turner, who was now laughing.

Jeb picked up the roll and looked at before he bit into it.

“Looks like I don’t have to do much.
 
How many weddings to you think we’ll see at the end of this thing?”

Larry and Aaron smiled.

“I’m glad my oldest is only sixteen,” Aaron said.

“Coeli is sixteen,” Larry added.

“You’re not funny.”

The men laughed and talked as they watched the kids finish eating and walk out of the hall.

38

Lisa and Brandon were walking through the village streets with several books in their arms, when they ran into their brother Brian, Joe Levine and the Turner boys.

“Well, if it isn’t the Dork Twins.”

Brian stared down at them and crossed his arms in front of him.

“What was the deal last night?”