Conduits

Chapter Thirty-Six

"Brothers and sisters," the Reverend began. "A century has come and gone." His voice carried clearly across the park without strain. He did not shout. His tone was natural, as if he were born an orator, meant to bring people together with his the passion in his words. "A century since God showed us His wrath and His compassion. The Lord took from our ancestors their heaven-stretching spires, their noisy devices, the lights that blocked out the sky each night, the machines whose filthy fumes clogged that sky, and He took much more. The Lord silenced the world. The Lord judged the wicked and the false idols—man and machine alike. But He showed His mercy as well, brothers and sisters." Murmurs of agreement reverberated through the crowd. "He brought us together. He brought us back to our dinner tables and His hearth. He brought to us our Second Chance. In our hearts lay the poison, a dark illness from the old world. We stayed, then and now. This is nothing to shame you. We are human, not He who is faultless. Every day is a test. A temptation. Part of the old world lingers, an oily residue that fouls the world He cleansed so may have the Second Chance! It is our task now to turn the cheek. To walk toward His light! To take that light within our hearts and use that light as our lanterns to guide us as shepherds through this renewed gift of His."

Passion filled the Reverend's voice. The world seemed to tremble. That or the crowd was stomping their feet in unison, an army ready to march into Heaven through the absolute force of their will and their leader's invincible faith.

The Reverend didn't wait for the followers to calm. He continued to pontificate, a man on a mission from God, His hand, His mouthpiece. As much as the Reverend fueled the faith of his followers, they charged him and his words. "These two coppertops have failed to find His light. Their eyes are too clouded with the old world's corruption, the temptation still clings to them. They call it 'the Field'. They claim they can bring to life the demons of the old world. Life is for Him to bestow, not for them."

In response to the Reverend's accusations, Eve Powell spoke up, her own voice as alluring as her husband's but more comforting. If only the followers knew she too was a coppertop like Clara and Wendy. "These coppertops have turned away from our lord. They refuse the help you brothers and sisters offer them."

Coppertop... a slur meant to demean. It dehumanized conduits. Made it easier for the followers to accept their leaders hanging two girls just shy of an age when they others would call them women. Call Clara and Wendy girls or young ladies and they became humans. Conduits and coppertops were apart from society, the His Hand's society. The His Hand god did not mean this world for their ilk, unless they asked for their humanity, begged for it.

The Powells went silent to allow their words to travel through the followers gathered in the park—which was near everyone who lived in the compound. The words were temptations of their own, whispers from either the winged conscious on one shoulder or the horned serpent on the other, each its own tempter.

Someone in the crowd called for "divine judgment" and others quickly picked up the chant. If the followers had asked for mercy, the same mercy their god used to spare the Lighted so many years before, would the Reverend and Eve listen? Probably not. This here was a show and everyone had their part in the mummers show.

There were so many people to avoid if she tried to escape. Clara didn't think she stood a chance against all the followers living in the compound, gathered together in a cluster, a wall of immovable belief in her embodiment of a hundred-year-old sin. That's what prevented Clara from attempting an escape in those last moments.

Clara could have sworn she heard several voices attempting to rise higher than the rest, leaping on to shoulders and waving vigorously. Knowing Rose, Merlyn, and Sammy were out there supporting her made Clara smile behind the death shroud over her head, though she still wanted to cry. Wendy was sobbing softly. Clara's eyes were dry.