God's Weapon

Prologue

What was happening to her? One moment chaos, the next, serenity. The emotional storm that impeded all sound had passed. A quick-time pounding thumped like battle drums, warriors dancing, their hollow chants dissipating as nature’s melody returned to the clearing.

She listened and shifted her gaze to a rustling in the ferns far below, and watched a yellow-banded snake slither lazily. Towering oaks and spruce trees, their growth fully matured, came alive with chirps, whistles and squawks. In unison strings erupted, the composition scored by hundreds of cicadas, their own style of music singing closure to the day.

Calm now, the fear past.

She’s startled by their appearance, yes, but she knows them, has known these boys all her life. Her senses muddled, she reacts to the leader’s mockery. Their smell alerts her to danger first, the stench of beer, the pungent odor of perspiration from the hot day’s attack on his body. He’s drunk; be cautious. Lewd laughter and salacious remarks, the way they strut through her space in the woods. She has no doubt that their intentions have escalated beyond a schoolyard prank.

Her wrists burn from the strong hands that hold her down, while other hands crawl up her thighs, scratching, pinching. Lips probe for hers, despicable comments. A crust of debris from a torrent of tears cakes her freckled cheeks. Another face is thrust against hers. Enthralled by the stimulation of the act, his slim body quivers, and his panic rivals hers. She knows this shy boy and for an instant, relief that he will end the attack floods through her. But he is not in charge, and is soon shoved aside.

With a surge of energy and a kick, she runs, but not far. A reach for help, any object will suffice. Her fingers grasp sovereignty, an instrument of destruction, her salvation in the form of the hot, cast-iron kettle. With one desperate swing the boiling liquid splashes over him and his scream of pain grants her freedom.

Their once bantering taunts are now furious syllables, reeking with contempt. Her torn dress encumbers her flight, and she falls. His weight again smothers her to the accompanying chatter of cicadas orchestrating the assault.

Calm now, the fear past.

Had she been more spiritual in life, she would have understood the clarity of her senses and the reason she was drifting.

Her soul will now seek the mortal equivalent of justice.

For her, the next sixty years will be but the blink of her eye.

PART ONE

Open thou mine eyes, that I may behold wondrous things out of thy law … Psalms 119.18

ONE

August, 1942

Lindsey, Missouri

Suzann watched the orbiting wheel, transfixed by the brilliance of multicolored blinking lights that framed the biggest Ferris wheel she had ever seen. A light wind swept the fairgrounds and fanned her long untamed hair. The hot August night spawned tiny beads of perspiration on her hairline and the breeze was a relief, cooling her as she waited. It wasn’t difficult to spot Buck in his Army private’s uniform. As the wobbling chair rolled into view, she saw that he wasn’t alone, his companion apparently enjoying herself as the huge wheel whirled back up into the evening sky. They rose out of sight and her mind raced, searching for a way to talk to him without causing a scene.

She didn’t feel the impact at first. The palms of her hands broke her fall and gravel embedded into her soft skin, but her eyes never left the spinning Ferris wheel.

A sarcastic voice interrupted her concentration and sneered. Excuse me all to hell.

She looked up in confusion and focused on a shadowy frame. When he snickered, she identified the silhouette. Damn it, Luther Allen! What’s wrong with you?

Hey, look everybody. Look what’s here. It’s Suzann Friday.

Several of her classmates were nearby, none of whom she immediately recognized until they circled around and looked down at her. Once again the thirsty breeze helped to cool the pinpoints of blood that wept from her skin. Her worn dress was ripped, a swatch of the gauzy material flapping in the wind. Damn it, Luther, she said, trying to straighten the shredded fabric. The scrape on her hip stung, and the thought of tearing her favorite dress sent a single tear sliding down one cheek.

I’m really sorry, Suzann. He snickered again, looking to the others for support. Ain’t I, guys?

Yeah, Suzann, it was an accident, I saw the whole thing.

Right, Billy. You’re no different than Luther. I swear you’re all no different. Maybe now that there’s a war, you’ll be leavin soon. Do somethin useful for a change. Maybe even grow up. Like Buck did.

Buck …Buck Whitney? Oh, little girl, you think Buck’s growed up, prancin round here in that uniform, you think he’s growed up all of a sudden. That’s a laugh, ain’t it, guys, said Luther, once again looking for confirmation.

I think Buck’s dreamy in his uniform, Luther, said one of the girls in the group. "Maybe Suzann’s right. Maybe you should join the Army."

I’ll be goin soon enough, he cackled. We all will. Besides, what’ll you lovely ladies do when all us men are gone. Specially you, Suzann. He turned, bumped into his brother, Levi, and pushed him aside. Come on, let’s go. No sense wastin a Saturday night.

They left, playfully nudging each other, their mean whispers loud enough for Suzann to hear as they formed a line at the cotton candy booth.

A voice broke through the carnival music and the loud barkers. Are y-y-you all right?

She turned to Levi Allen. A well broken-in, oversized pair of overalls hung on his slender frame over a clean, but sun-faded shirt. Levi was Luther’s younger brother by ten months, and better looking than Luther, but his good looks couldn’t compensate for his problem. He spoke with a stutter and this impediment made his life as a teenager unbearable, especially with girls. With this imperfection, Suzann always felt comfortable around him because, despite her casual beauty, she too had been teased and picked on, her own low self-esteem stemming from her lower-class status in the community.

Lindsey had very few well-to-do residents really, being mostly a middle class community, but the Allen’s were part of the upper class. Suzann and her mother were shunned, dirt poor and somewhat of a disgrace, taking the brunt of anything that went wrong in their small town. Her father had left them in the thirties. Suzann had witnessed her parents’ battles and even at the young age of seven, she knew he was just waiting for a good excuse to leave, so when the Depression hit, he took advantage of the promise of work in California.

Betty Friday did whatever she had to do to make ends meet and Suzann thought she probably enjoyed it. She knew exactly where her mother would be tonight and prepared herself for who she would share the kitchen with in the morning. Betty worked at Drago’s Bar on Elm Street and after closing time every Saturday night, she brought home one of Drago’s patrons under the guise of needing a ride home. She did need the rides, but she also needed the money.

Suzann hated the way most men in town were now looking at her. Their stares implied like-mother-like-daughter and lately, they had even begun to crack lewd comments behind her back. Here comes Friday on a Saturday night. She overheard this every weekend when she went to town. People had referred to her mother in this way for a while now and Suzann was sure Betty wasn’t hearing their remarks or, if she did, she just didn’t care. Suzann hated Lindsey, and everyone who lived here. Well, at least, most everyone.

She attempted a smile, while carefully removing gravel from the heel of her hand. I’m fine, Levi, just fine.

I’m s-s-sorry, Su-Su-Suzann.

You got nothin to be sorry about, less you’re talkin bout bein Luther’s brother.

I- I-I don’t …

Another voice spoke from behind her, a voice she welcomed, one that made her heart beat faster, and life in Lindsey bearable. Hi, Suzann, everything okay?

She turned and looked up into dark brown eyes, frowning down at her with concern and the pain in her hands and hip vanished. Buck’s boyish good looks had matured since she’d last seen him. New-found confidence emanated from him, signaling the bulk of his six-foot-three frame to carry his stature with pride. The olive-drab uniform complimented his bronzed complexion and strength radiated from his muscular physique. His hat sat cocked at an angle over a shadow of shaved stubble, once wavy and jet-black, adding a charm that Suzann found delicious. The boy to whom she had given herself in the throes of adolescent bliss had returned from boot camp a man, and that realization stimulated her resolve.

Buck glanced at Levi, then back at Suzann and caught sight of the torn fabric hanging from her hip. Before she could explain, Luther called out to Levi to hurry up if he wanted some cotton candy.

Levi’s eyes darted between Buck and Suzann. Obviously nervous and struggling in the battle to speak, his mind knew exactly what to say but the words reached his lips so fragmented that it wasn’t worth the effort or the embarrassment to try. He grinned sheepishly, and with a hard swallow, shyly loped away toward the fire engine red booth to join his brother.

Suzann turned her attention to Buck, only now the girl who had been riding with him on the Ferris wheel stood next to him. Rosemary Dunn. Although they had grown up together, Suzann always knew that Rosemary didn’t belong in this sleepy, mid-western town. Altogether different than most girls her age, Rosemary had a destiny beyond Lindsey. Focused on her future plans, she effortlessly achieved everything she set out to do. She had graduated second in the class in June, despite missing nearly two months of school shortly after the war started in December. Her older brother and his wife were killed at Pearl Harbor, and she had traveled to Hawaii to bring back their two children. Suzann envied Rosemary’s thick, chestnut hair and classic features. She was unpretentious and intelligent and at five-feet-ten, very athletic. Suzann had played on the high school girls’ basketball team with her and they had walked away with the State championship in ’41.

Suzann looked at Rosemary, cool and composed, and then at Buck in his pressed uniform. She felt intimidated and childish and sympathized with Levi’s dilemma just a few minutes ago. Like him, her mind was sending words to her mouth, but her lips were not co-operating.

Finally, she managed to speak and the words poured out in a single thought as she stared anxiously into Buck’s eyes, totally ignoring Rosemary. Hey Rosemary. Buck we have to talk.

Blood rushed through Buck’s veins, and he knew that the change in his complexion would soon be obvious to both girls. He felt embarrassed for Suzann, standing within inches of him, pleading with those bewitching blue eyes for his undivided attention. Lost within his surge of adrenaline, he heard Suzann ask to speak to him alone.

I feel like a Coke, Buck …think I’ll go get one, said Rosemary.

He waited till she left before he spoke. Suzann, I ...

Three days, Buck …you’ve been back for three days, you don’t tell me you’re home and you don’t come see me. And what’s the deal with Rosemary?

We can’t talk here, Suz, not like this.

Why not, half the town’s here. I think it’s time they all know about us. She cupped her hands around her mouth. How bout it, want me to start or do you want to?

He grabbed one of her elbows and pulled her hands away. Okay, okay, I’ll come by your house tomorrow.

Tonight! Her eyes flashed. "I don’t care what time, but it has to be tonight. I think you owe me that, don’t you?"

* * *

From across the fairground, Rosemary watched them. She guided the straw between her lips to sip her drink. Her eyes wrenched with pain as the sudden flash of cold numbed her forehead, sending shockwaves to her brain. Had she not been so attentive on spying on Buck and Suzann, she would have been more careful in taking that first icy sip. Her eyes swelled with moisture, then gradually the pain subsided as she breathed warm air through her nose. Her vision cleared and her curiosity increased as she observed them deep in their secretive conversation.

Ain’t that an interestin picture, boy wonder and the class tramp? Luther placed his hands on his hips. D’ya think she’s takin lessons from her mommy on how to entertain the troops?

Be nice, Luther, said the girl at his side.

Becky Dupree giggled and planted a kiss on Luther’s cheek, throwing both her arms around his waist. Her arm lock caused him to stumble toward Rosemary and laughing, he regained his balance before bumping against her. Looks like you may need someone else to take you home, Rosey. Here, how bout a little somethin in that Coke to ease the pain.

He tilted a pint bottle toward Rosemary’s cup and before she could react, the amber liquid overflowed, running over her fingers. She pulled the cup away and whiskey cascaded in droplets around her feet, forming miniature pools of mud in the dry dirt. His clumsiness went unnoticed, since everyone’s attention had diverted to Suzann and Buck, everyone except Levi, who stood very still, watching his brother like a child looking to a parent for guidance.

Rosemary held out the paper cup with two fingers below the rim and deliberately released it to free-fall to the ground inches from Luther’s feet. Go to hell.

He jerked back, flinging the whiskey bottle against Becky’s shoulder. Becky let out a surprised yelp as the booze splashed onto the bodice of her dress.

As Rosemary walked away, she heard several comments made about her from the group, some degrading and vulgar, however expected given the circumstances and the company.

* * *

Buck saw Rosemary approach through the golden strands of Suzann’s lightly blown hair and stepped away, grateful for the rescue. He steered Rosemary toward the nearest canvas tent which hid a carnival venue he pretended he wanted to see, regardless if the sideshow was of interest or not.

Suzann turned to watch them leave, her stomach churning more so now than it had for a couple of weeks. She wanted an explanation and, determined to get an answer, began to rehearse how to handle their rendezvous later tonight. One thing was certain; this would be Rosemary Dunn’s last date with Buck! No matter how he reacted to her news, there would be no one else in his life from this night on. A tear trickled down her cheek, generated not by any physical pain, but rather by the emotional pain of the love she felt for Buck Whitney and she boiled with jealously.

She wandered into the darkness of the night beyond the lights which rimmed the perimeter of the carnival and she couldn’t hear the laughter of the crowd anymore. She didn’t hear the music and couldn’t smell the food or the pungent odor of livestock. She left the grounds feeling no differently than when she had arrived. Her body ached from her run-in with Luther Allen and her heart ached from her argument with Buck.

Suzann would have been completely alone if not for a far-off pair of eyes locked onto her every movement, peering over the top of pink cotton candy.

TWO

By 1942, Lindsey’s population had grown to around two thousand. As in most communities there was a central hub, a focal point where everyone gathered at one time or another, and in Lindsey it was the town square. At the heart of this square stood an age-encrusted, iron-cast statue, a man holding a pickaxe in one hand and a Bible in the other. This was Lindsey’s namesake, Lindsey Allen.

The frontiersman had ended up in this part of the country by pure misfortune. He was on the Oregon Trail, moving his family from Kentucky to the Pacific Northwest, when his wife succumbed to the tuberculosis that had plagued her for years. They pulled out of the wagon train, and refusing to leave her alone in this wilderness, he decided to homestead and work the land for himself and his children. It wasn’t long before the railroad built a depot near his property, and asked him to maintain the water and coal stations. Having foresight and sensing the needs of the travelers on the trains, and with a willing workforce of seven eager children, a new settlement blossomed in the Midwest.

Unlike his father and grandfather, Roy Allen was considered anything but a pillar of leadership. Roy was the Sheriff and abused his power, hiding behind his badge to avoid scrutiny. Most of the townspeople had still not forgiven him for using his heritage and clout to consummate shady financial dealings during the Depression. His portfolio had grown by claiming deeds on the foreclosures of local farms and businesses after he had loaned money to his neighbors and then charged them outrageous interest. No one dared oppose him and there was nothing anyone could or would do to reclaim their lost properties. Roy Allen had another unenviable trait, unspoken and cleverly concealed. He thought of himself as a ladies’ man and had, so far, managed to keep his sexual indiscretions from the eyes and ears of his family.

The Sheriff’s station occupied the entire ground floor of a landmark building in the square. Roy leaned against a sturdy oak beam and gazed at the statue of his grandfather with disdain. The front door stood open so the night breeze could circulate through the office to lessen the smell of paint. He struck a match and lit a cigarette, checking his watch before blowing out the flame. He was doing something totally out of character; working the nightshift as a favor to one of his deputies so the officer could spend the evening with his family at the carnival. Due to be relieved at any minute, he pulled long and hard on the cigarette and blew the smoke in the direction of the bar across the street. Normally, Saturday was Drago’s busiest night of the week, but tonight many of the usual patrons were at the fairgrounds. Music blared out into the street, making his lonely vigil somewhat bearable and the thought of an ice cold beer, tempting. After all, he reasoned, with the carnival in town, what better excuse to give his wife if he were to get home later than expected?

Headlights splashed over him as the squad car pulled into a space near the front steps of the station.

Deputy Steve Wilson hurried to the porch, tucking the back of his shirt into his khaki pants. Sorry, boss.

Was it worth it? Roy tossed his cigarette onto the well-scrubbed porch floor. You might wanna stay out here all night, that damn paint smell in there’ll gag ya. Plus it’s too damn hot.

You goin home, Roy? questioned Steve.

Where else would I be goin?

Calm down, boss, just thought you should know I saw your boys at the carnival with the usual crowd. Embarrassed, yet concerned, the last thing the Deputy wanted to do was set Roy off. Luther’s been drinkin, that’s all, just thought maybe you should know.

Yeah, well he’s a big boy. Let him live it up while he can. I expect Uncle Sam’ll be wantin him now that he’s graduated. Besides, he won’t get in trouble as long as Levi’s with him. I swear, I don’t know who that boy Levi takes after, but it’s sure not me, and sometimes I’m glad he doesn’t.

He started down the steps, then suddenly turned to Wilson and held out his hand. What the hell, give me the keys? I’ll take a ride over there and make sure those carneys get packed up and on their way. He looked back over his shoulder, nonchalantly. If my wife calls, tell her what I’m doin. I’ll be home when I get there.

He rolled the driver’s side window down and stared across the street at Drago’s. The big band sounds comforted and intoxicated him at the same time. He shifted the car into gear and backed out into the deserted street, then drove around the corner into Drago’s back lot. The door opened and a couple walked out arm in arm, the music now louder, and his temperature no less cooler. He knew who would be working tonight, serving drinks and food, and he also knew she would most likely not be going home alone. Roy smiled. It was his civic duty to ensure her safety.

* * *

The single-lane paved road reached out east of town like an octopus’s tentacle, stretching lazily over the hilly terrain. Dotted with potholes and crevices, it led away from the fairgrounds, now home to the annual carnival. Next to the Fourth of July celebration, this weekend’s festivities were the most looked-forward-to social event of the year, as well as boosting Lindsey’s economy. With the country at war, the fair carried an even greater social meaning. For many families, this might be the last time for loved ones and friends to spend time together, creating memories to last forever. For the young men enlisted to fight overseas, this was a finale to the experience of what made life in their small part of the world worth living; memories of innocence and hard work, the love of their sweethearts left behind to carry them through the agonizing years that lay ahead.

A crusty dirt road picked up where the paved road ended, continuing east for about a mile to a single rail line built almost a hundred years ago, the very spot where Lindsey Allen had begun his dream.

Only the soft radiance of the August moon guided Suzann’s path toward the undeveloped wilderness as she carefully stepped between rotting rail ties, and berated herself for not remembering to bring a flashlight. Her instincts told her that their secret hideaway would be the perfect location to confront Buck with some issues. The distant merrymaking had faded, replaced by nature’s subtle interruptions. Crickets, scurrying in the grass, sang a staccato melody. Fireflies glimmered with unequalled spontaneity, staking out the tree line up ahead. In a cluster of willows, she heard the tranquil gurgle of running water. Crawling and hopping inhabitants abruptly fell silent, and she reflected back to the times when she and Buck had come here early in the mornings to catch frogs; for no other reason than to just be together, removed from the confines of town.

Peach Creek was roughly ten feet at its widest point. Someone had strategically placed boulders across its girth for a dry access to the other side. Suzann had used these smoothed stones so often, that crossing the creek at night was not a task she feared.

She climbed the gradual rise, then disappeared from sight into a stand of trees where a different world waited for her. She was safe within the ring of these graceful giants, like the security that settlers sought by forming their wagons into a circle at dusk. The treetops provided a leafy umbrella as protection from the milder elements. Piles of red bricks lay in heaps around a crumbling chimney, still useable after these cozy confines had been abandoned a generation ago. Suzann had constructed a makeshift shelter of canvas and attached it to a tree limb to create an alcove. A timeworn, weather-beaten mattress lay under the shelter and a variety of utensils, once needed to sustain life here, were scattered on the ground. During the Depression, this had been a refuge for the less fortunate.

Now, for her, it was a sanctuary; a place to be alone and to fantasize, a safe haven where she could be carefree. Here, she and Buck had first made love, then had continued to meet for secret encounters since that first intimate exchange nearly a year ago.

She slid her hand under one end of the mattress and found her box of matches. Lifting the glass cover off of an old oil lamp, she pressed the burning stick against the wick, then adjusted the flame to the softest glow without extinguishing it. With her legs stretched out on the mattress and her arms behind her, she looked up through the patchwork treetops into the star-dotted sky and placed one hand on her stomach and moaned as the butterflies returned.

Leaves rustled in the darkness beyond her sphere of light. Buck! …Is that you, Buck?

She turned up the flame in the lamp, then waved it at arm’s length and held her breath, but heard nothing else. She had never been afraid to be here alone, no matter what time of the day or night. But tonight, she felt strange. Seeing Buck was nurturing edginess within her. Why hadn’t he come to see her when he returned home? She categorized her feeling as fear which tortured her emotional stability. And why was he with Rosemary?

* * *

He had followed her here and now huddled in the bushes and looked down into the clearing. She’s so beautiful. Would he ever find the nerve to tell her his feelings? How would she respond? He wouldn’t be embarrassed if she spurned him here in this seclusion, but to be rejected in any other setting would devastate him. Could he get closer without scaring her? After all, she’d jumped a minute ago, startled by the noise when he’d slipped on the leaves.

He decided that now was the time and stepped forward, then froze. A white light danced on the water, a flashlight in the hand of someone crossing the creek and balancing from one rock to the next. He quickly fell to his knees and sheltered himself behind the foliage. The uniform should have told him who the intruder was, but he didn’t confirm the identity until the man passed within several feet of him. By the happiness of Suzann’s greeting, the visitor was expected.

* * *

Suzann stood very still, having decided to react upon and follow Buck’s lead. He switched off the flashlight and walked toward her, and all the mental planning she had struggled over vanished. She was at an impasse.

He hung his hat on a tree limb, then lowered his head, gently placing his lips on hers. I’ve missed you, baby, he said.

Before she could react, he pressed his body against her, his kiss more intense. Eyes closed, her inner spirit began to drift, buoyant, leaving her to become one with his. Something else inside her sensed danger, and she placed her hands on his chest and pushed him away. No Buck …it’s not gonna be that easy anymore. I want to know why you’ve been back for three days and didn’t call.

How’d you find out?

My mother mentioned it this morning during one of our mother-daughter chats as she spread the gossip from Drago’s and tried to sober up.

Buck heard the hurt in her voice and looked away. Good old mom.

God, Buck…It’s a small town, what did you expect? Well …?

Suzann, you know Rosey and I went out a few times in school. We started writing when I was in basic training and one thing led to another and …and …I didn’t come to see you or let you know I was home because I’m not sure about us anymore.

Her eyes began to water and she blinked, not sure she understood his meaning. She drew a deep breath and exhaled, saliva clinging to her trembling lips. I’m pregnant. She looked imploringly into his eyes as tears cascaded down her flushed cheeks.

Now Buck tried to comprehend those two words.

I figure somewhere between three to four months. I’m starting to show a little and these loose dresses are hiding my stomach, but it’s only a matter of time before I show. I can’t tell my mother. And, then there’s your father, Buck, bein the minister and all …I just don’t know what to do.

He reached out and with one hand brushed back her hair and pulled her to him. I didn’t figure on this. You’re sure about this, right?

She backed away a step, grabbed the fabric around her hips and pulled the dress up over her head. Standing completely naked before him, she took his hand and guided it from one side of her stomach to the other, over the slight rise that was once lean and flat.

She watched him focus on his hand, and she smiled. I love you, Buck …God help me, but I love you so much.

He stepped back and placed his hands on her shoulders. We’ll do what’s right, Suz …I don’t know what that is right now, but don’t you worry anymore.

She reached up to guide his head down to hers and once again their lips met. She kissed him passionately and slowly, pulling him down until they both lay entangled on the mattress.

* * *

Anger stabbed him and confusion buzzed in his head. Ashamed that he had watched them and seen Suzann naked, he ran, sliding down the hill toward the creek, clawing through the dense undergrowth. Keep going …don’t look back.

With quick reflexes, he ducked and flattened himself on the ground next to the decommissioned train tracks, sure that he hadn’t been seen. A police vehicle was parked at the end of the road, its headlights trained on another vehicle.

He strained to listen as