Free Black Noon by Andrew J. Fenady Page B

upon.
    â€œ. . . for judgment is toward you, because ye have been a snare . . . they have dealt treacherously against the Lord.”
    Then to the mirror and his own reflection which became—
    The black-clad Moon, eyes of lust, thin lips twisted into a silent jeer.
    He turned away but was compelled to turn back, this time to see the prior reflection of the man, bruised, bloodied, and burned, now even more severely than the first time—a desperate plea in his hollow, tortured eyes. Both arms were outstretched to his sides as if affixed to an invisible cross.
    Keyes’s hands tilted the mirror sharply upward on its hinges until he could no longer see any reflection at all.
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    Deliverance was at her workbench, a sublime look on her face as she manipulated the wax figure of Lorna, distorting the image with an uneven pressure of her fingers.

    Keyes was at the bedside. He leaned closer to kiss Lorna’s forehead. But she bolted up, her eyes wide in pain and horror, almost crashing into her husband’s face.
    â€œLorna!”
    â€œOh, Jon! I . . .” She trembled and wiped at her eyes. “That pain . . . in my brain . . . as if it was being split with an . . .”
    â€œLorna, it was a dream . . .”
    â€œThe pain was no dream . . . it was real . . . worse than the sun in the . . .”
    â€œLorna. I’m here now. We’re together.”
    â€œYes . . . and it is subsiding . . . the pain . . . but, Jonathon, there’s something about this place . . . these people . . .”
    â€œIt’s your imagination . . .”
    â€œNo! It’s real . . . don’t you feel it, too . . . something?”
    He looked toward the tilted mirror now reflecting the moon in the sky.
    â€œNo, Lorna . . .”
    â€œJonathon, as soon as the wagon is fixed . . . let’s get away from this place.”
    â€œYes,” he nodded, “I’ll see to it tomorrow.”
    â€œIt’ll be better for both of us.”
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    Deliverance covered the wax image of Lorna Keyes with a damp cloth, blew out the candle, rose, and walked toward the door of the shed . . . followed in the darkness by the purring cat.

CHAPTER 22
    The next morning the dresser mirror remained tilted upward.
    While Lorna still slept he had dressed himself with no intention of looking into the mirror, even though the alien reflections had occurred only at night.
    Before leaving the room Keyes walked back to the bed and looked down at his wife. Lorna had grown up as one of the most beautiful young ladies in Monroe, with only Libbie Bacon, now Mrs. Custer, as attractive. But, here, more than a little of that beauty seemed to have drained from her features. Even closed her eyes seemed sunken, her cheeks depressed, and her face uneasy.
    As he moved toward the door he took note of the rifle, showing the effects of sun and sand, leaning against the wall. He wondered if the rifle was in operative condition, then went downstairs.
    Keyes joined Caleb, Deliverance, and Joseph, who were about to begin breakfast.
    â€œYou’re just in time, Jon,” Caleb greeted, “We’ve just finished breakfast prayer, and we’re ready for a hearty morning meal. Sit down,” he pointed to the empty chair next to Deliverance, “and join us.”
    â€œThank you,” Keyes nodded, “and good morning.”
    â€œIt is a good morning.” Joseph nodded, “The Lord had made his face to shine upon us.”
    Deliverance handed Keyes a napkin from the table as he sat.
    â€œThank you, Deliverance. You look absolutely radiant this morning.”
    â€œI don’t know how she does it,” Caleb smiled, “works till all hours every night and rises with the sun fresh as a morning flower.”
    â€œYes,” Keyes agreed.
    Bethia entered from the kitchen carrying a tray and moved toward the stairs.
    â€œI thought I’d take the missus some breakfast.”
    â€œShe’s fast