Gogo touched Vern’s arm. “That’s not possible.”
Vern had surpassed impossible when she’d broken those straps and left the Blessed Acres of Cain, surviving in the wood despite everything. Nothing could surprise her more than her own aliveness. Manifesting Reverend Sherman’s sentience from memories was small in comparison. Vern’s life was the one that was the miracle. Not his.
“Please. Stop,” Sherman gasped, begging. Vern loosened her hold.
“When is it?” he asked.
She stared at him, not comprehending the question.
“Come on, girl, damn it. This is not the time for your antics. When is it?”
“What’s he want?” asked Gogo.
“To know the date.”
“Tell him. See what happens. See what he has to say.”
Briefly self-conscious, Vern wondered how she must look to Gogo, rumpled, having slept in her clothes. Braless. She was sweating, because most emotions made Vern sweat. Did it look to Gogo that Vern’s hand was squeezing air or that her hand was balled into a fist?
Gogo believed in time Vern would be able to interact with the hauntings in mind only. She’d be able to squeeze Sherman’s neck with her hand without ever actually using her hand. Vern wished she could do that now, be simultaneously in bed with Gogo, enmeshed with her body, while her mind tore Sherman in half for making her remember what it felt like to submit.
“It’s mid-February,” said Vern.
“Year?”
Vern’s brow tightened up. “The year?”
“Say it, damn it.”
She gave in to his demand but didn’t understand how he couldn’t know.
The breath he blew out sounded full of regret. “It’s three months I’ve been dead, then.” He could’ve punched her, for how knocked out she felt by this news. “I wonder how long Cainland has left. Everything’s already too uncontained. I couldn’t control you, and now you’re out in the wild,” said Sherman. “Judgment Day is upon us. The God of Cain has found us.”
“Stop lying,” Vern shrieked. “I know you don’t believe in that crap.”
He leaned to the side, his face strained into an offended frown. “He’s real, Vern. How can you doubt it? How else do you think we’ve been allowed to flourish? Tell me, child, at the Blessed Acres did you ever know hunger? Homelessness? Do you know what it’s like to be sick but not be able to afford a doctor to care for you? These are luxuries not afforded to many. You must know that now. You must’ve realized the truth since leaving, that the world is as cruel a place as I said it was. Crueler. Tell me, girl. Deny it. Say I’m wrong. My father tried to turn that place over to the feds, but I saved it. I kept to its original promise.” Genuine belief suffused his tone.
“You’re wrong,” Vern said. “None of that stuff has to do with your made-up god.”
He winced at her blasphemy. “How is it that you’ve fallen so far from his light?” asked Sherman, visibly saddened. “I never took you for a gullible girl, yet you’ve swallowed the lies of the outside.”
“You’re the one who’s swallowed lies. Did you really think it was the God of Cain that gave you all you wanted? You thought the creator of our people would hand back Lucy to an abuser?” asked Vern. She was shaking, but with anger, not fear.
“He was a strong father. A leader. He’s what Lucy needed and what many young folk are missing out there, their daddies in prison. He was there for her, damn it. He was there,” Sherman cried out, his voice rising.
“Tell me you don’t believe that. Tell me there’s some part of you that knows better,” said Vern. She needed to hear him.
“What I know is that the Blessed Acres of Cain has been a refuge and a land of plenty for decades. If not because of the God of Cain, then who? Of course, I understand it’s not him alone. He works through human vessels.”
“And just who are those human vessels?” asked Vern. “Eamon’s cronies?”
“Just because my father set up those connections doesn’t mean they’re tainted. We still benefited from them. So what if the God of Cain’s got soldiers in every level of government making sure Cain prospers? At least he did. Not anymore. You leaving has disturbed the plan. The beautiful thing we’ve built will end. You should come back, girl. You should repent. If you don’t, it all ends.”
Vern breathed, feeling calmer than she ever had in Reverend Sherman’s presence. “Then let it end.”