Free Hallowed by Bryant Delafosse

attaching the lights and glanced down at her.  “Okay, back up and try and pretend I’m not one of the DFW elite.”
    “It’s called Spiritualism and it’s a bona fide religion, okay, so don’t even think about ridiculing it.”
    “I’m just trying to understand.  Do these people believe in a God?”
    “Yes, of course.  They also believe that you can get in contact with the spirits of those that have died, and since the dead are on a higher plane of existence than you and me, they know things we don’t and can help us.”
    It definitely sounded like she’d done her research, though I was sure her enthusiasm was blinding her to a few inherent dangers.  “Aren’t they the ones that worship nature?”
    “No, you’re thinking of Paganism.  Spiritualists share a lot in common with orthodox Christians.  A moral based value system, for one, and a belief in a Judeo-Christian God, for another.  We just are more open to outside spiritual influences.”
    This conversation was starting to creep me out, and suddenly, out of nowhere I got the compulsion to ask her to come with me to mass, even though it might require driving her to Abner as a bribe and lying to my parents.  Somehow despite all that, it seemed like the right thing to suggest.  “How long have you been into this?”
    “Since last summer.  Gordie, one of those DFW elite,” she added with a dark glare in my direction, “talked to a nineteenth century sailor, who told him that there was a bad storm coming.  A few weeks later”—she slapped her hands together—“Katrina.”
    “Were you there in the room when he did?”
    “No,” Claudia said with a dark scowl at me, then loud enough for Mrs. Wicke and Mom to hear through the open screen door on the front porch (had they been anywhere in the vicinity) she barked, “Mom never lets me go anywhere!”
    I’d had just about enough of the spoiled brat routine.  “I don’t know anything about séances.  All I know is that I’m not wasting my gas going to Abner to look at an empty ditch,” I said, as I dropped from the ladder into the grass as close to Claudia as I could without it actually landing on her.  She hopped back a step and gave me an indignant look.  “I’ve got better things to do with my time.”
    “Oh like what?”  Claudia got in my face.  “I guess you’re such the Mr. Popular around Haven that you’d go to church on a Saturday night.”
    In spite of the control I thought I had over my emotions, I could still feel my blood starting to boil.  It was on the tip of my tongue to respond with something smart and cutting, but instead I kept silent.  I turned away from her and started collecting my tools.
    “I go to church because I’m looking for answers,” I caught her eyes and held them for a second.  “Same as you.  The difference is I don’t belittle you.”
    When I looked up next, Claudia was stomping off down our driveway.

Chapter 7 (Sunday, October 4th)
    When I went into the kitchen to get breakfast on Sunday morning, I heard Dad speaking in hushed tones on the phone.  He had pulled the cord around the corner and into the living room, where he sat in his recliner.
    Silenced were the typical sounds of cursing and country music from the AM station out of Austin that normally filled the garage.  Instead, he had the radio tuned to a morning talk radio show.  Some lady was talking about the “sanctity of human life.”  I didn’t think twice about the subject.  Sounded like your typical morning talk show fodder to me.
    Then I saw the newspaper on the kitchen table.
    It was open to an article about the disappearance of another girl in San Marcos, who had been gone for over two weeks now.  The article was an interview with her parents who talked about her high grade point average, her active participation in the community and church.  Not a typical candidate to “up and run away.”
    This sort of thing had suddenly become news because the remains of the