Page 106 of The End of the World As We Know It: New Tales of Stephen King’s The Stand

Her dress fluttered as she ran down an alley.

Behind her, the crash of broken windows and the clatter of fences being knocked down, the wood set aflame.

They made a game of throwing rocks right back at her.

A car full of white men soon roared to a stop beside her in the alley.

The same terrible grin leered from each of their faces.

The nearest men all but bayed, wolves catching a scent.

Abagail smacked the first man who hopped out of the vehicle with the lid from a nearby trash can, knocking him clean off his feet.

The other men hesitated, enough for her to slip by them. They gave chase for sport.

She dashed between houses, grabbing at door handles as she ran. Finally, a cellar door gave way. Abagail nearly leapt into its darkness. Whatever fate waited her in its depths, better to fall into the hands of the Lord, for His mercies were very great, rather than into the hands of man.

The streets deathly still, their burgeoning silence took on a life of its own.

Speese held its collective breath. Sharp rifle reports rang out in the darkness, all too near thunderclaps.

A distant scraping drew near. In her mind, she knew the sound.

Gun barrels and torches against the sides of houses.

The mob was coming. It was not her place to judge God.

He judged with water once and would judge again one day, with fire.

“You can’t connect to your God because He was never real. We created an idea of Him—in our image, blond hair and blue eyed—designed to keep you in your place. Where we want you.”

“You serve the Father of Lies!” Abagail yelled.

“You ain’t ready to shake off those chains.” The Dark Man now imitated Hattie’s voice. “You starve when God goes silent on you? Would you like a bite to eat? I could pop out and grab us a little something.”

“Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the Mouth of God.” Abagail pursed her lips. Her stomach twisted; her flesh was weak.

Lord God, I have suffered. She was tired, had been doing this for so long. Never questioning God, always wondering if she’d done the right thing. The cost of following Him so dear.

“How goes your search for your quiet God?” The Dark Man sauntered about, hidden among the shadows of the trees, all too pleased with himself. “You know what your problem is?”

“I don’t need you telling me my problem.”

“You’re angry, but you won’t admit it.”

“Yes, I’m angry,” Abagail said. “I see all the hurt and pain around me. I can’t help but want it to be better.”

“A fact you can see, but your God can’t. You’ve got a right to be angry. You should pray to God to destroy those who oppress you and your people. Lex talionis. The law of retribution. Justice.”

“Vengeance.”

“Reparations,” the Dark Man said.

“You’re a liar.”

“You reek of doubt. Of questions you’re too afraid to ask.”

“We carry a wound with us. An interruption of our spirit.” She remembered her words to Nick Andros.

“I have harbored hate of the Lord in my heart. Every man or woman who loves Him, they hate Him, too, because He’s a hard God, a jealous God, He Is what He Is, and in this world He’s apt to repay service with pain while those who do evil ride over the roads in Cadillac cars.

Even the joy of serving Him is a bitter joy.

I do His will, but the human part o’ me has cursed Him in my heart. ”

“Then join me, Mother,” the Dark Man said. “I am war, famine, death, and disease. I am the Four Horsemen. I can give you power. Authority. Years back in your limbs.”

“I don’t want to be out of God’s will for my life.” The capillaries under her skin burst, her sweat issued like drops of blood. “I need to serve, not rule. It’s only Him I serve. There are no easy shortcuts. Only the long, hard road.”

“Then you should end it all. Lie down. Sleep. It will be over soon enough.”

“When the Lord wants me, the Lord will take me. The Lord will take me home to Glory in His own time.” The words came out sharp and defiant, but in her heart, they felt hollow, a distant echo of the faith she once had.

She started to hum “Precious Lord, Take My Hand,” but the tune morphed.

Waiting for the fire to come and consume her, she held her breath and counted to three.

“We see now through a glass darkly,” Abagail prayed in the pitch blackness of the cellar. “Before I’ll be a slave, you’ll bury me in my grave. Better to die free. Now be gone.”

Metal scraped against the cellar door. It swung open. Moonlight pierced the night.

Abagail shielded her face.

An arm stretched out, fishing in the darkness. “Abby? You in here, girl?”

“Yes!” Abagail clasped her hand. “You came back!”

“What’s the point in me making it if I leave you behind?” Hattie huffed as she helped her friend out of the cellar.

“The men?”

“They gone. Scurried back to their rat holes.”

“God answered my prayers.”

“Our rifles helped. The sight of us dimmed their fervor and they found their senses like their fever broke.”

The Moon Shadow Man had retreated.

Even in the darkest hours, God still listened.

Abagail fell to her knees, not worried if she’d be able to get up again, and gave thanks for the respite.

But she couldn’t fight the suspicion that this abiding evil was not yet at its full power, and with that thought she grew afraid.

One day she knew she’d have to face him at the height of his power, and her faith would not be enough.

Abagail was so close to death, she could feel its fetid breath on the back of her neck. Once the Devil left Jesus in the wilderness, the angels came to serve Him. Maybe they took the appearance of his ancestors. Hattie sat down next to her.

“Are you an angel?” Abagail’s voice cracked.

“I am more.”

“You’ll have to forgive an old woman for getting lost in her memories.”

“Remember well,” Hattie said. “They don’t want us to learn history so that we won’t recognize when the Devil tries to play the same ol’ tricks.”

“I still believe in His plan,” Abagail said. “A slammed door don’t mean I was wrong to knock.”

“You are saved and sanctified, filled with the Holy Spirit. But there’s a dual knowledge in your faith. You need to keep on running to see what the end gon’ be.”

“These old bones are past running.”

“But your spirit ain’t. Honor your people. Draw strength from your lineage. Be whole. Bring all of us to bear. What’s the point in us making it if we leave you behind? Keep to the old ways—they’ll always serve you.”

Abagail reached for a leaf from the Witness Tree. In its fold were fat beads of dew. Folding the leaf, the beads became a trickle. Before she drank, she began to hum the hymn “Trust and Obey.”

“When I liberate myself, I liberate you.” Abagail poured libation for the Creator. And for her sisters. “Not my will, but Yours be done.”

She reached for other leaves and drank. Closing her eyes, Abagail held her breath and counted to three. When she opened them, the call of Boulder tugged at her soul, beckoning her home. Many were the mysteries of His perfect timing.

“I ain’t never been one to cry for too long. And I’m all out o’ tears.”

The best way to escape despair is to get back to the work. She petted the charred back of the Witness Tree.

God is great. God is good.