The Six Messiahs - Mark Frost [164]
They looked at him blankly until the somber, round-faced black kid, who was emerging as their leader, picked up the thread of their argument.
"Especially if a person wants to join. They told us you wanted to join."
"They did, did they?"
"You do want to join us, don't you, sir?"
"I'm thinkin' about it," said Frank, looking off up the street. A poster outside a large building ahead on the right caught his eye; bright colors, big print. He walked toward it.
"Because we have strict rules about people wanting to join us," said the black kid, continuing to tag along.
"Somehow that doesn't surprise me."
"We really need you to follow the—"
"What's your name, kid?"
"Clarence, sir," said the black kid.
"Tell you what, Clarence. Why don't you cut the crap and give it to me straight so I can make up my own mind? Who's running the show here?"
"Excuse me?"
"Who's the head honcho?"
"Our leader?"
"Who wrote the rules?"
"Our leader is the Reverend Day."
"Reverend A. Glorious Day," said another, enthusiastically.
"What's the 'A' stand for?" asked Frank.
More blank stares.
"What's so all-fired special about this Reverend Day?" asked Frank.
"Reverend Day speaks to the Archangel," said Clarence.
"He brings us the Word of our Lord."
"Through the Reverend we see Him—"
"We commune with Him, Brother Tad," corrected Clarence.
That stopped Frank dead on the sidewalk. "You what?"
"We commune with the Archangel."
They were beaming at him again like lunatics.
"Which Archangel is that?" asked Frank.
"We don't know his name, sir."
"He's just the Archangel."
"He sits at the left hand of God," said Clarence.
"That's what this Reverend Day tells you?"
"Oh yes, he knows the Archangel well...."
"But we know Him, too, here, in our hearts," said Clarence. "When we have communion with Him."
"Whereabouts does all this communing take place?"
The white shirts smiled at each other like the answer was so obvious.
"All around."
"The Archangel is everywhere."
"We hear his voice wherever we go."
"We're never alone...."
"You mean to say that, right now for instance, you hear a voice telling you what to do?" asked Frank carefully.
"Yes, sir; through Reverend Day the Archangel is always with us."
"Praise the Lord."
"Hallelujah."
"Okay," said Frank, nodding slowly, looking at all the smiling white shirts passing by on the street, more wary now that he realized he'd wandered into an insane asylum.
"And you'll hear the Archangel, too, sir, once you join us."
"After you meet Reverend Day, you'll understand."
"All the people who want to join us meet Reverend Day...."
"What's the tower you're building over there for?" asked Frank.
"That's the Tabernacle of the Archangel, sir."
"So it's a church."
"Much much more than that, sir."
"When the Holy Work is finished, that's where the Archangel will appear," Clarence piped in eagerly.
"The Reverend says the Holy Work is near."
"It won't be long now."
"What a glorious day that will be!"
A chorus of hallelujahs followed.
Jesus Christ, thought Frank, they're crazier than a bunch of drunken monkeys at a taffy pull.
"Let me ask you something, Clarence," said Frank, putting a hand on the boy's shoulder and pointing to a poster for the Penultimate Players beside them on the wall. "This play is being put on tonight; have I got that right?"
"Oh yes, sir."
"And the actors for this thing, are they staying here in town?"
"Yes, sir; they're over at the hotel," said the black kid.
"Where would that be?"
"Just down the street."
"That's where all our visitors stay."
"That's where you'll be staying, too, sir."
"Well, why didn't you say so in the first place—"
Interrupting them, a commotion in the street: five men on horseback galloping up to a building across from them, scattering people out of their way. Unlike any other building on the street, a big adobe, like a ranchero's hacienda. A sign in front: The House of Hope.
Shouts from the riders; huge man in a gray duster coming down the steps of the House of Hope to meet them: the same man