What the Hand: A Novel About the End of the World and Beyond by Stockwell Todd

Author:Stockwell, Todd [Stockwell, Todd]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: ZFS
Published: 2014-08-03T22:00:00+00:00

17

We walked out of the darkness into the light of the afternoon. Nobody said a word. Our eyes adjusted as we took in the mountain air and felt the sun that was still ours, at least for a time.

***

The Minions had given up the search and were already miles from our mountain. I thought about Hodi and what he had done. I thought about the sudden presence of so many tarantulas. All the times we’d rehearsed, I hadn’t seen even one, yet when Billy and I went back to give the all clear, there were at least two-dozen of the giant spiders spread out across the ledges, just below the crevices where the others hid. The large spiders remained perfectly still as we approached, unflinching and unafraid, standing guard like British sentries at Buckingham Palace. It was impressive—enough to send New York running.

Hodi and the spiders had been little miracles. I looked up at the full moon, and for a moment, imagined it a great eyeball winking back at me. The hand of God was with us.

***

That night, cautious of Minion activity, we celebrated our close call beside a fireless pit. Billy broke out a couple bottles of wine from his most recent raid. Ironically, it was that particular theft that had prompted the Minions to search the mountain in the first place. The bottles came from the ranch house of a local big shot. The rancher had used his political clout to instigate the unusually large-scale search.

Even the sisters, who hadn’t had a drink since they left Las Vegas, partook that night, probably to quell the anxiety that still lingered, fueled by the nerve-racking events of the day.

Together, we toasted our survival and the good Lord for seeing us through. We drank to the Minion, Hodi, for his moment of compassion. We drank to Roger for first spotting the Minions, even though we had to pull it out of him. And we drank to our eight-legged guards.

***

There were Christians on the Old Earth who would have frowned on our celebration. Some believed it to be the “devil’s juice,” a sinful concoction with no useful purpose except to further the debauchery of man. Other Christians found it acceptable to drink moderately or on special occasions. And there were those like the Catholics, who involved alcohol in their weekly masses, and with a reputation for putting a few down outside the church—some with a certain unabashed pride.

The Bible itself did little to solve the debate, offering seemingly opposing viewpoints: “…Be not drunk with wine,” “Wine is a mocker and beer a brawler…,” “In the end it (wine) bites like a snake and poisons like a viper,” “Jesus turned the water into wine,” “Every man sets out the good wine first… ,” “I will not drink again of the fruit of the vine until the Kingdom of God comes,” and on and on….

Why couldn’t God make up His mind? Should I drink? Should I not drink? Was it acceptable to drink a

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