Free Latter-Day of the Dead by Kevin Krohn Page A

other two men and I remained silent.
    “We are heading down a wicked path, brothers,” Verdell judged, breaking the dead air. “Damnable actions must be met with scathing punishment. Everyone must receive the message. We are intolerable to the unhallowed.”
    “What do we do?” I asked, unsure of what he wanted.
    “We make an example that will stay with everyone.”
    The two men nodded at Verdell in pleased agreement, obviously already aware of what he was referring to.
    Verdell had still not turned back from his window gaze, confirming, “It will happen at 4:00 p.m. Brothers, make sure everyone is outside the church at 4:00.”
    The two men immediately left to alert the group. I remained standing next to the couch, confused. “What will happen at 4:00?”
    “At 4:00 Benjamin Gardner is to be publicly hanged for murder.”
    “Hanged?” I asked, dismayed. “Sir, with all due respect….”
    “There is no respect due for transgressors and miscreants,” he dispassionately interrupted, “and whoever has taken our brother’s body will face exacting punishment as well. My flock will not be subject to such evils.”
    It was clear that this was not up for debate. The prophet did not look my way as I exited the house. I decided to head home to change clothes before diving into my medical books at the office to take a stab at figuring out what was going on.
    I veered-off my path home and stopped at another house along the way. A woman answered the door, drying her hands on the apron she adorned.
    “Good morning, Sister Hannah. Is your husband Rodell in?”
    “He is, Brother Elias, but I’m afraid he ain’t no good for no company this forenoon.”
    “May I check on him, Sister Hannah?”
    She looked back into the house before responding, “He’s unwell, but I s’pose that’s why you’re visiting?”
    I nodded in confirmation before she extended the door open and allowed me in. She took me back to Rodell’s room, where he was being tended to by one of his other wives and his eldest daughter. He was sweating inexhaustibly, his wife continually rubbing a cold washcloth over his brow.
    “Rodell, how do you feel?” I asked as I knelt down bedside for a close inspection.
    He fought to open his eyes, his head wrestling side-to-side. He panted, “Is that you, Doc?”
    “Yes. I am here, Rodell.”
    He struggled to upright himself against the headboard of the bed.
    “Take it easy. You can stay down.”
    “No, Doc. I need to…I need to apologize. I just feel something awful about the finger. It was rotten of me to do something so heinous…just rotten.”
    When he looked at me I grew concerned that his pitch-dark pupils had taken over a large portion of his eyeballs, much like Benjamin, but decided now wasn’t the best time to cause additional alarm.
    Rodell stretched over to the side of the bed. I bowed in closer, thinking he wanted to tell me something. He became very still and closed his eyes before reopening them and retching tar-colored blood across everything. He continued to hack and cough violently while tears streamed down the faces of his wife and daughter.
    It took a solid two minutes for Rodell to catch his breath and compose himself. “I know what this is,” he gulped.
    “You do?” I uttered with surprise, as I was at that exact moment trying to interpret what it was I was seeing.
    “It is God. He is rightfully punishing me for being in such a dark place last night and dismembering Andy, one of my own brothers. It was greedy. It was vain. It was ungodly. This is my punishment. Somebody go get my boy. My son needs to be witness to this.”
    I tried to advise him, “Rodell, hold on….”
    He looked at his daughter. “Go get your brother.”
    She corralled her six-year-old brother, Joseph, and ushered him into the bedroom.
    “Joe, come up here by your pa,” Rodell ordered. He grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him in before continuing, “Look what’s happening to me, Son. Do you see this?