The Cure by Dickson Athol

Author:Dickson, Athol [Dickson, Athol]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Author Author
Published: 2012-09-05T07:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINETEEN

RILEY DROPPED AN ANONYMOUS CASHIER’S CHECK for one hundred thousand dollars in the collection basket. It was the fifth time he had done so in the ten weeks since Dylan closed the deal. They said it was better to give than to receive, but he felt no joy in the experience, having stolen it in the first place. To get around that scruple Riley sometimes told himself that every offering was originally a gift from God anyway, and if all anybody ever did was give back what the Lord had given, was he any different?

Unfortunately, that logic wasn’t doing any good. According to Riley’s banker in New York, Henry had not cashed a single check so far—more than half a million dollars’ worth of paper in the preacher’s drawer or somewhere, unaccepted—so apparently not all offerings were the same. Maybe after he had given God an even million they would be square. Maybe it would take ten. Or maybe there wasn’t enough money in the world.

Pushing his new eyeglasses higher on his nose, Riley decided not to think about it anymore. He settled in to listen to the sermon as Pastor Henry approached the podium. Thirty minutes later, the lady to his left passed him the Communion tray. It felt strangely heavy in his hands. He stared down at the concentric circles of plastic thimbles, red wine in the center, grape juice around the outside. At least that was the usual way they arranged the blood of Christ. But what if someone made a mistake? What if the wine was on the outside this time? Riley thought about the note he had stolen from the offering basket.

. . . if they ever drink again, the urge will return stronger than ever.

Staring at the juice and wine, Riley remembered the chief of police outside the tent at Teal Pond, asking Hope to explain the Mercedes. He remembered Bree walking away when he couldn’t bring himself to give advice about her boyfriend. He remembered the powder he had piled on a plastic tray at Henry’s Drug Store, the surprising weight remaining even after he was cured, pressing him to poison those who needed healing most. He thought of Dylan Delaney entering Hope’s kitchen without knocking. He thought of his old friend Brice’s last sensation, the caustic taste of rubbing alcohol granting sweet oblivion. And Riley saw the start of everything, the equatorial sunlight slanting through pollen-laden air to illuminate a clearing filled with corpses, and in his hands he saw the multicolored stained-glass radiance reflected in a dozen little circles on the tray, every color in the universe absorbed into monotonous blood red, everything the same no matter what he did, and suddenly he did not care which one he drank.

Riley closed his eyes, picked a random thimble, and tossed the liquid down.

He set the tray onto the pew beside him and stood and walked out of the church alone, descending the tall steps and crossing town on foot to his

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