The Whispering Room

Nineteen

Ellis Cooper squatted on the slick, mossy bank and watched moonlight glisten off the bayou. He loved coming out here at night. The swamp was the play-ground of the nighttime predator.

Like him, he thought as he kept his eyes trained on the water.

Amidst the trills and croaks and chirps of the small, harmless creatures came the occasional bellow of a bull gator. All around him, he could sense the scurry of tiny feet through dead leaves, the watchful eyes deep within the shadows.

After a while, his patient vigil was rewarded, and he spotted the telltale ribbon of silver in the water. A snake swam, head up, toward the bank and a moment later, the thick body glided through the moss and underbrush mere inches from where Ellis perched.

The serpent must have sensed his presence for it stopped, hidden in the shadow of a rotting log. Ellis had a stick in one hand, and, rising, he struck it against the ground where the reptile lay concealed.

Most snakes would have slithered even farther under the log for protection, but not the cottonmouth. Water moccasins were stubborn and aggressive, and Ellis knew only too well that they would sometimes come at you if you weren’t careful.

The snake reared up out of the shadows, mouth wide open, fangs bared and ready. It sprang forward, whether to strike or to frighten, Ellis didn’t know. Or care. He was ready for it. His hand shot out, grasping the moccasin behind the fist-sized head. Laughing softly, he lifted the serpent up high.

In the moonlight, Ellis could see the thick bulge of the poison sacs beneath the gleaming eyes. The odor emitted from the open mouth was dank and foul, like stagnated water, but Ellis didn’t mind it.

The thick body curled and writhed, and he laughed again. “You’ll not get away from me,” he said. “I have big plans for you.”

He’d brought a burlap sack from home, and with one hand, he shoved the snake inside, then with the other hand, he drew the drawstring tight. The sides of the bag moved and shivered as the snake searched for a way out.

Careful to hold the bag above the drawstring, Ellis set off through the woods.

He emerged half a mile downstream where a brush arbor had been erected on the bank of the swamp. An old-timey revival meeting was in full swing, and he moved in closer to watch, though he had no intention of participating.

She was there. He could see her blond hair glistening underneath the string of lights powered by a nearby generator. While the congregation swayed and clapped and some members even passed out cold as the rapture overcame them, she remained as still as a statue.

Ellis moved to the side of the arbor so that he could see her profile. Bathed in all that light, she looked like an angel, and his heart raced as he watched her. Ellis had all the confidence in the world, but truth be told, he was still a little in awe of her.

Which was why, up until now, he’d been content to remain her follower. But over the past few days, he’d been getting antsy. All this plotting and planning… Why not just snatch the kid and be done with it?

He knew the answer, of course. The sword of God had to be wielded with both valor and discretion.

On the makeshift stage, two men held snakes high above their heads as the preacher, eyes closed, hands lifted to heaven, spoke in an unknown tongue.

His rich, baritone voice echoed through the darkness, across the swamp, and stirred something deep and primitive inside Ellis’s soul.

Moving to the back of the arbor, he felt his control slip away as the power of the moment swept over him.

Against his will, he began to quiver and shake all over, and his knees turned to jelly. When he collapsed to the ground, he lay in the dirt, eyes rolled back in his head, tongue flicking in and out as he began to writhe and twist like the moccasin in the burlap bag beside him.

The spell lasted only a moment, but when he came to himself and sat up, his heart pounded in elation because he knew without a doubt that his seizure had been a sign.

Ellis Cooper was, indeed, one of the chosen. A warrior, a prophet, a demon chaser with the power of God behind him.