Chronic fear

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Wallace Forsyth wasn’t bothered by the rifle pointed at his face.

“Your heart ain’t in it,” Forsyth said.

“What?” She had her gun on him but was staring out the front window, straining forward as if anticipating the sound of the next shot.

“The gun. You wouldn’t kill me.”

Her face twisted as if annoyed at the distraction. “I’m quite capable, Mr. Forsyth.”

“You killed a man in the Monkey House. But you’re no murderer. That was Seethe working through you. The devil.”

“My husband’s out there with bullets flying around, and you’re preaching? Don’t push it.”

“We’ve changed, Dr. Morgan. All of us. For some, it’s been slow. But look at your husband. Did you see his face when he left the car? Something evil’s took hold of him.”

She shook her head, but Forsyth could see the doubt and concern weighing on her. Sweat glistened above her eyebrows, and her bright blue eyes were as gray as a troubled sea before a storm.

“He was happy,” Forsyth continued. “Like a kid running down to the drugstore for a soda pop and a comic book.”

“What are you talking about?”

“These pills.” He shook the vial he’d been clutching since Mark had entered the woods. “All they do is release what’s already inside us. They let us be who we really are. And we’re all the devil’s tool.”

She lowered the rifle until it was resting on her knee. It must have been heavy. Forsyth probably could have snatched it from her, or at least grabbed the barrel and forced it in another direction, but he saw no need. He could defeat her with the truth.

The gospel according to Wallace Forsyth.

“I thought I could control it,” Alexis said. “I could use it to help people.”

“We will be judged by our works, and those not found in the Book of Life will be cast into the lake of fire.”

“You said we’ve changed. But I haven’t.”

He could see the doubt in her eyes. But the Lord taught mercy. “None of them understand what all this is about. We can do this, Dr. Morgan. We can save the world.”

“What about the senator?”

“Daniel was a good man. But in the past year, his heart’s been eaten up with rot and war. He’s become dangerous.”

“Like you and your apocalyptic talk?”

Forsyth balanced the approaching lie against the higher purpose. “Daniel is seeking power for himself.”

“And you serve a higher power, right?”

Forsyth smiled again. “I’ve changed, too.”

Another shot rang out, this one more distant, and Alexis’s fingers clenched on the rifle. She shifted in her seat, barely listening to him.

“We can do this,” he repeated. “We have Seethe now. And you can develop it, refine it. The world doesn’t need to know about Sebastian Briggs. Seethe can be all yours.”

She was thinking about it, her tongue protruding slightly. Forsyth had guessed right. She had changed. The deep craving inside her was stronger than she realized, and her ambition owned her. She wasn’t willing to admit she had killed, but she was capable of killing.

Oh, yes, she would kill for Seethe.

Forsyth twisted the lid from the vial. “We can produce millions of these,” he said.

He shook one out and held his palm toward her. “Become more like yourself, Dr. Morgan. No need to hold back any longer. We’re miles and miles from the world of morals and rules and civilization. Nobody to witness but God.”

She leaned away from him, pressing against the driver’s-side door as if he were pushing a serpent at her. He was patient, though.

“Seethe lets you be who you are running from,” Forsyth said. He moved his palm to his mouth and partook of the fiery dragon. The devil worked in this world, but God’s promise was one of ultimate victory, though the battles might be painful. “Become who you are.”

As his teeth crunched into the pill and he swallowed the bitter chemicals, another shot rang out, closer, and Alexis spun, the barrel of the AR-15 knocking the vial to the floor and scattering pills across the carpet.

“Mark,” she whispered, opening her door.

“We don’t need him,” Forsyth said, already feeling the self-righteous rage course through his spirit. All of God’s warriors were justified in their actions, no matter how bloodthirsty.

“I do,” she said. “And you can go to hell.”

Alexis reached over the seat, grabbed her backpack, and jogged into the woods. After a moment, Forsyth stooped and began collecting the pills from the floorboard.