47. Chapter 38
Chapter 38
A n hour later, the back door of the house opened, and a man came out. He had a long dark beard and was in rolled-up shirtsleeves and sweating profusely, like he'd walked out of a sauna. He carefully passed a wooden bucket to the mean man while the other Amish men crowded around, hands ready as if to help. They handled the thing like it contained nuclear waste.
"What's that?" Jon muttered.
The youngest of the men, the one Jon had pegged as Elijah's brother, manned a pump near the garden, putting fresh water into a second wooden bucket. The man in shirtsleeves impatiently strode toward him and grabbed the handle. He disappeared back into the house with the full bucket of fresh water. The door shut firmly behind him.
The mean man carried the bucket he'd been given very carefully toward the barn. The rest of the men followed him the whole way with those concerned, guarded postures, like they feared he'd drop it. One of them ran ahead to open the barn door.
As they passed Jon, Eddie, and Samuel, Jon got a glimpse in the bucket. Whatever it contained was black and oily, and he could swear something moved, something that reminded him of the roll of an eel. The stench struck them like a blow, and Eddie, Samuel, and Jon gagged and grabbed their noses.
"Oh my God!" Eddie gasped. "What is that?"
"Ack! It's awful!" cried Samuel.
Jon's eyes watered. It smelled of the sick room and of the carnal pit, like the halitosis of a corpse. The putrid stench climbed inside Jon's nose and clung in a way that made him fear he'd never be rid of it. It hurt his brain.
"The water!" Samuel wheezed, "like with Jon."
It took Jon a minute to get what he meant. "Oh, man! Did it look like that when Elijah took my pain?"
"Not even close," said Eddie.
Samuel shook his head. "No, it had dark streaks in it, and it smelled bad. Not near so bad as that, though."
"What the hell is he doing in there?" Jon whispered. But it had to do with braucherei, that he knew, and it was something evil. No wonder the Amish men looked so unnerved.
"What I want to know is what are they gonna do with that gunk?" Eddie said.
Samuel shuddered. "Hopefully, there's a barrel they can seal it up in and get rid of it for good."
The men came out of the barn. They didn't even glance at the three intruders as they went back to their post by the door.
Jon, Samuel, and Eddie waited. And they waited. Another hour passed. Two. Several Amish women arrived, walking from down the road. They spoke to the men and offered a towel-covered basket, probably food, but the men wouldn't take it. The women weren't allowed inside the house either. They glanced at the truck and at Jon suspiciously. They left again.
Jon's stomach growled. He wished now he'd brought the plate of breakfast Samuel had made for him. Then he felt guilty for even thinking about food when Elijah could be in danger. Eddie and Samuel were true friends, because they never suggested they leave, even as the day drug on and afternoon chore time loomed. The men at the back stoop never broke their vigil either.
The bucket was replaced two more times, and each time, it contained the foul-smelling substance, which the men carried into the barn. Man! Talk about the stuff of nightmares. Jon wondered if Aunt Jolie would have any tea on what was happening or what the substance was. But he left his phone in his pocket. The silence on the farm was so thick, it felt wrong to break it. He prayed to God to protect Elijah. And he even believed, in that moment, that He could.
It was after three in the afternoon, and the sun had just broken through the clouds, when the back door opened again. Jon expected to see the sweaty man in rolled-up shirtsleeves with the bucket. It took him a moment to trust his eyes.
Elijah walked out of the house. He was dressed like the Amish men, in black pants and an open black coat over a white shirt but without a hat. He stumbled down the step of the stoop and walked forward as if not seeing anything. His face was utterly white as if there was no blood in him, and his dark hair was slicked down with sweat. The men who'd been on the stoop backed away from him like he was a ghost.
Jon had been leaning on the truck. He pushed off and was hobbling as fast as he could go—without his crutches—before he'd made any conscious decision to do so. He reached Elijah just as his slight form crumpled. He caught Elijah in his arms and lifted him up, an arm under his knees.
"Elijah! Elijah, are you okay?"
Elijah's eyes were closed, and he didn't stir.
"Oh my God. Elijah!" Jon was panicking. He was so pale.
Samuel and Eddie appeared at his side. "Is he okay?" Eddie asked.
Jon shook his head, unable to speak for the fear in his throat.
Eddie felt Elijah's neck. "He has a pulse. It feels strong."
"He'll live." The voice was weak yet still commanding. Jon looked at the house where a tall old man with a long white beard leaned in the open doorway. He wore a white nightshirt, also soaked, over black trousers. Jon recognized him from that day he'd seen Elijah's grandfather in the garden. But even if he hadn't, he'd know the man by his blazing eyes. As wrung out as he looked, there was something of power in him that made Jon swallow any accusations he was about to make.
"What happened?" Jon asked.
Elijah's grandfather wiped a handkerchief across his neck as if Jon hadn't spoken. His hand shook. "He'll recover," he repeated. "He needs rest. Days of it. And gut food. See to it." He paused and met Jon's gaze. "Look after my grandson."
He said something to the other men in German and their posture relaxed. They began slapping each other's backs in congratulations. One raised his hands to praise God.
"Let's get him home." Samuel nudged Jon's arm.
Jon resisted. "I want to know what they did to him," he growled, though he didn't even convince himself. Dawdi had already departed, and he'd get no answer from the rest of them.
"Let me take him," Eddie said.
"No, I can do it." Jon turned and hobbled back to the truck, Elijah in his arms. Walking on the cast was awkward, but it didn't hurt, and Elijah felt like he weighed no more than a bale of hay. Maybe it was that adrenaline thing, when your body goes into survival mode. Or maybe it was just that he had Elijah now, and he'd be damned if anyone was gonna take him away.
Jon settled on the back seat, holding Elijah on his lap. Yeah, it wasn't the best idea, seat belt wise, but it was just gonna have to be that way. He cradled Elijah to his chest as Eddie pulled out onto the country road.
"Should we take him to the hospital?" Eddie asked.
Samuel looked unsure. "He kind of fainted after he pulled pain from Jon. Maybe it's the same thing?"
"True."
"His grandfather said he'd be okay."
"As if we can believe him," Jon muttered. But he wasn't keen on the idea of going to the ER either, mainly because he didn't want to let Elijah go.
"Are you okay?" he whispered in Elijah's ear as Samuel watched them worriedly from the front seat. "Do we need to see a doctor?"
In response, Elijah snored.