“God as in the burning bush, or in Paul’s case, a tree stump.”
The woman closes the file, looks the Prophet in the eye.
“How do you feel about your father, Paul?”
3. A Scout Is Helpful.
“God is my father,” says the Prophet.
“You’re a Christian?”
“I’m an originalist.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I understand God’s teachings as He intended them, not as the church has interpreted them.”
“Which you can do because God speaks to you directly.”
“Through the hum.”
“Through the hum, right?”
She makes a note.
“Can you tell me,” asks the Prophet, “which kingdom are we in?”
“Which what?”
“Main Street, Wall Street?”
Hummmm.
“Paul,” says the woman.
“That name doesn’t apply to me anymore.”
She snaps her fingers in his face. “Wake up, kid. You’re in an obscene amount of trouble. You know that, right?”
But the Prophet keeps his eyes on the wall.
“It doesn’t really matter, I guess,” says the Prophet. “One kingdom or the other. We’re almost at the equinox. No one will be able to pretend much longer.”
“Pretend what?”
The Prophet opens his eyes. “Have you ever had whiplash, Nancy?”
The woman blinks. “How do you know my name?”
“God told me. See, whiplash isn’t so much a physical injury as a form of PTSD.”
Nancy rubs her brow. She’s been up for close to thirty-six hours.
“How about you answer my questions,” she says, “and, otherwise, shut the fuck up?”
Hummmm.
“Cars collide,” says the Prophet, “and all the old trauma roars back. You see, all pain is emotional. I think about that sometimes when I travel through this world.”
Nancy turns and looks at the agent in the corner. He crosses behind the Prophet, looms over him.
“Where is the judge’s daughter, Paul?”
The Prophet thinks about this. “She was with us before my electrocution, but her role in the plan was her own.”
“You kidnapped her. You and the guy who calls himself Felix.”
4. A Scout Is Friendly.
The Prophet closes his eyes.
Hummmmm.
“Was it God’s plan that you kill those deputies in Reeves County?”
“I didn’t kill anyone.”
“But you were there.”
The Prophet thinks about that. “It’s interesting you used the word kidnap before, as what is the Reeves County Detention Center if not a prison for hostages?”
“So this is political for you?”
“No. Politics don’t interest us.”
“Us.”
“Yes.”
“Who is us?”
5. A Scout Is Courteous.
“Your children.”
“I don’t have children.”
“Sorry, I meant all children.”
“You kidnapped a federal judge’s daughter and killed four sheriff’s deputies and your accomplices are all of the children. Just making sure I have that right.”
“When God parted the Red Sea and led his people out of slavery, and then the seas closed on the Egyptians, drowning them, the headline wasn’t God kills slave owners. It was God saves Jews.”
The woman taps the table impatiently. “Who are your literal accomplices? We know about Felix. He’s in custody downstairs. And then there were the shooters. The girl was killed by private security forces, and the boy was wounded. But we know there were more. I want names. I want information. What was the plan if your mission failed? Where did they take Story?”
6. A Scout Is Kind.
“Our mission didn’t fail,” says the Prophet. “Everything is as it must be.”
“So God wants you in federal lockup for the rest of your life, or possibly the electric chair?”
“There are no electric chairs anymore. Prisoners in Texas are executed by lethal injection.”
The woman slams her hands on the desk. “Where is she?”
The Prophet closes his eyes, hums. When he was a boy, he lived outdoors. His grandfather had a ranch on the edge of a national preserve, and this is where his mother took him when he was four and they were running from his father. His grandfather raised goats. They would roam free during the day and sleep in pens so the wolves didn’t get them. On winter nights, his grandfather would make a thermos of coffee and sit on the porch with his Remington and wait for the wolves to make their move. The Prophet, then just a boy named Paul, would sit with him. Even then he didn’t sleep. The moon would rise and set as they spoke, often for hours, always on the lookout for night predators. Together they would stand over the steaming corpses of the dead, rifle shot still ringing in their ears. Paul would kneel and run his fingers through their fur.