Dark Parts of the Universe by Samuel Miller

Author:Samuel Miller
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2024-02-02T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

PASTOR BAKER DIDN’T look like a pastor in this light.

He was wearing a Mizzou sweater and flannel pajama pants, a faint reminder of hair electrified to the side of his head. He had the same stout, back-and-forth walk as I’d noticed at the funeral, but up close you could see the gray in his facial hair, the wrinkles in his face.

“Tell me who you are,” he panted. “So I can call your parents.”

“I’m Sarai, this is Willie. We’re not trying to hurt anybody.”

He stared at her, and I watched the realization dawn on his face. “My God,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”

She nodded. The bat fell from his shoulder.

“What are you doing out here? I almost . . .” He looked down to the bat, disgusted, and threw it back across the lawn.

“We’re playing a game,” she explained. “It’s a phone game. It gives you locations—”

“The one from the news,” he said. “It brings you to locations on private property?”

“I guess.”

Pastor Baker rubbed his temple. “I’m sorry. I hope you can forgive me. I’ve been on edge lately. Feels like there’s a lot of folks moving through these woods, not to mention the police patrols, these curfews . . .” He looked genuinely troubled. “Hard to know what to think.”

“They’re probably playing the Game, too,” Sarai said.

He blew air between his lips, scanning the forest. “Gotta be pretty self-important to think you’re being stalked,” he said. I could tell he didn’t all the way believe it.

Sarai looked behind him to the building. “I thought your church was the big one downtown with the chapel? This doesn’t look much like a church.”

“It’s temporary,” he said. “Our building’s stuck getting renovated. Haven’t been able to put the money together to finish yet.”

“Do you always work in your pajamas?” I asked.

He smiled. “Don’t tell anyone, but it’s a temporary home, as well. Just ’til we’re back on our feet. Y’all interrupted my TV time.”

Pastor Baker offered me his hand, pulling me out of the woods, his eyes still darting around with caution. “Best you go home,” he said. “It’s getting late, and they’re talking about making the curfews permanent for the summer—”

“Pastor Baker,” Sarai interrupted him, her voice quiet. “Can I ask you something?”

He nodded.

“The Game . . . it’s all about intentions. You set an intention, and it brings you somewhere to find what you’re looking for. Places you’d never ever go on your own. And I used it—we used it—that night.” He knew exactly what night she was talking about. “Any chance you can . . . explain how that happened?”

I smiled at her choice of words. An explanation.

But Pastor Baker didn’t smile. He stared at her, so seriously that she took a half step back.

“Why don’t you two come inside for a moment,” he said, and turned without waiting for a response.

He led us to the basement, a cozy room with green carpet and a few flowery, old couches. There were thirty folding chairs set up around a makeshift pulpit and cheap plastic table, more AA meeting than church.

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