The Legend of Sander Grant by Marc Phillips

Author:Marc Phillips
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781846591112
Publisher: Saqi

9

Sander was in no great hurry to read the pages scattered in the truck seat beside him. He hadn’t really wanted to take them from the church, fearing what might befall Roger – or worse, his mother – if he did. Yet Roger had offered them when it looked reasonably certain he had one foot in the grave and the other on a slick spot. It would’ve been rude to leave them. The damage was done, anyway, and he had already stated he had no intention of helping Roger sift through his ancient writings to reconstruct the gospel. Was reconstruct the word Roger used? Sander told himself he would toss all the pages in the garbage when he got home. After he read them.

Once on his way, he realized home seemed less like a haven and more like a battleground now. Sander first wondered whose fault that was, then asked himself whether blame made any difference. He had always revered the truth of things and summarily concluded that he would rather not feel safe if safety was an illusion. Which thought led him to another, regarding knowledge in general.

Surely, in thirty years, Roger had tracked down every scrap of information on Nephilim. Sander was momentarily distracted, trying to get used to that word, as applied to himself, his kin. It felt more natural each time he heard it in his head. He said it aloud a couple of times. Yes, better than when Roger said it. When Sander snapped out of his digression, he returned to the subject of Roger’s purpose. If the man had compiled all the available literature on giants, and if he believed what he read, what use was a live one, other than a curious talking exhibit?

Roger wasn’t like that. He had nothing to prove and nobody to impress and – Sander stopped, mid-thought – and he didn’t want a live one. He wanted to talk to the dead ones. That’s the point they hadn’t reached. Roger was a historian. He wanted Sander to help him fill in the holes in his research by talking to Will. Sander was convinced. More specifically, Roger wanted to hear, through Will, what the older ones might have to say.

Sander could’ve kicked himself. Of course God wouldn’t get so worked up over stuff virtually anybody could find in the dusty stacks of some university library. If it was archived, it was available. Because He knew Roger’s mind, God was several steps ahead of that. If Roger was right, God adamantly objected to Sander resurrecting things that were no longer written record; things, if he went back far enough, his ancestors would doubtless remember firsthand. His grandfather had told him that other clans, distant ancestors, were ‘hard to find’. Hard. Not impossible.

It was going on seventy-two hours now since Sander had slept, but the need to talk trumped his body’s call for rest. His mother would be asleep. If she wasn’t, she should be, and Sander was not inclined to revisit the subject with her until he’d had time to work it out a bit further for himself.

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