Page 181 of The End of the World As We Know It

He was no dummy: he knew he was chasing some bastardized version of salvation.

Did you think you had caused it all?

Jacob Cree collected his suitcase and stepped out into the bright sunshine to greet his people.

7

Zarah Smith felt something swell inside her chest as Cree stepped from the house and smiled at the townsfolk. The women applauded and the men hollered their approval into the air. Carrying that black clamshell suitcase looking like a large chunk of coal with a handle, Cree came down the porch steps as the group of assorted musicians struck up what sounded bizarrely like “In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida.”

The women were dressed in white linen gowns and with flowers in their hair—Zarah was, too—and the men wore neckties over their chambray shirts, their hair greased and combed, their faces cleanly shaved. Ted Lomm wore a tight-fitting suit jacket and a ridiculous neon bow tie as he came up to Cree and shook the man’s hand. Then he led Cree down the walk toward the street, and the rest of the townsfolk—Zarah included—fell behind in step.

On the far side of the graveyard field, opposite Zarah and Benjamin’s house, the town council had erected a small stage. Behind the stage, a large white sheet to match the women’s dresses loomed in the air, held aloft by scaffolding that some of the men had set up over the past week. There was festive bunting around the stage and many folding chairs set up in the empty part of the field, facing the stage and that large white sheet.

Zarah moved quickly through the crowd so that she could claim one of the chairs in the front row. She sat with an audible huff, her excitement radiating through her like an electrical current. That excitement was halted, however, when she happened to glimpse Benjamin among the crowd. No, not truly—more like standing off by himself beneath the shade of a copse of willow trees. He was dressed in his dingy overalls, his hair a mess, a look of utter disdain on his face. He had a backpack slung over one shoulder and was holding a long gun by the stock.

8

A woman placed a wreath of flowers around Jacob’s neck and two other women led him up onto the stage. There was a podium and a microphone set up, which was better than the bullhorns he sometimes had to use for large crowds. His speech usually lasted about forty minutes—he’d tell them how the visions started, how he’d written the book, and how he wished he had recognized those visions for what they were at the time. He’d conclude with how humankind should remain vigilant and keep an open mind, because no one could ever tell when the next batch of visions might arrive, and to whom they might come. He would take questions and do the best he could to answer them. And in the end, he would be optimistic about leaving them inspired, or, at the very least, with some modicum of hope for the future.

Ted Lomm walked in lockstep across the stage with him. At one point, he produced a handkerchief from the inside pocket of his suit jacket and blotted his glistening forehead. “Gonna be a hot one,” he muttered, and Jacob nodded in agreement.

Mitchell Detroit and two other men stood beside the podium. One of the men adjusted the microphone. The men all wore neckties over flannel shirts.

As Jacob carried his suitcase to the podium and the crowd began to take their seats, he noticed Zarah Smith, who was in the front row, rise and run across the field toward a man standing in the shade of a group of willow trees.

9

“What are you doing, Benjamin?”

She stood before him, breathless, both hands swimming absently over the slight protrusion of her belly.

Benjamin’s eyes narrowed. His face was burned from the sun andhe sported about three days’ growth along his square jaw. He looked past Zarah and up at the stage—at Jacob Cree, of course—and she could see the wheels turning behind his dim, booze-bleary eyes.

“Answer me, Benjamin.”

“This is wrong,” he said, and his voice was as flat and emotionless as a sheet of plywood. “You’ve all gone crazy and I won’t sit idly by and watch it happen. Especially with my baby in your belly, Zarah.”

He reached out and gripped her about the wrist.

10

Jacob stepped up to the microphone and addressed the Calvary audience with a pleasant greeting, while, from the corner of his eye, he kept an eye on Zarah and the large man she was talking to beneath the tree. A man with a gun.

11

“Come with me,” Benjamin said.

Zarah pulled her wrist free. “Is that it, then? That’s your plan? You’re a coward? You’re running away?”

“This ain’t the way. This town is lost, Zarah. Come with me. We should leave.”

“And go where? I have to save the baby,” she said, taking a step back from him. “We have to saveallthe babies.”

“This will save no one,” Benjamin said, and he suddenly looked miserable. “This will damn you all to hell.”

She took another step back. And another. Her voice firm, her palms pressed against her swollen belly, she said, “You’re a coward, Benjamin Lewis! Do you hear me? You’re acoward!”

Benjamin stared at her for a heartbeat. They were too far from the crowd to attract any attention, but Benjamin glanced around at everyone nonetheless. Then he looked toward the stage again, justas the giant white sheet was lowered to reveal a large wooden cross, fifteen feet high. Cheers broke out among the townsfolk.