"Ja," I sighed.
Alex climbed the stairs first, and we followed him into the shadow of the doorway.
It took some time for my eyes to adjust from the gold gloaming of the sunset to the shade of the church. I smelled dust and roses. For a moment, I was blinded in red sun shadow, and all I could hear was my breathing in my ears and a low sibilance.
My vision cleared to show a boxlike room with benches on the right and left of a center aisle. The floor was scarred pine, and light poured through the windows in broad orange shafts. In the ponds of sun on the floor, I saw a rat snake sunning itself. An altar at the front was decorated with brittle white roses, dried up and crumbling. A wooden cross adorned with a dove looked over the shattered flowers, a copperhead curled around it. Bits of the ruined flowers were strung in garlands on the pews, dropping petals on the floor. A blacksnake slipped beneath the altar.
Pastor Gene was walking up the aisle, heedless of the snakes. "Don't mind the reptiles. Or the decor."
Ginger was frozen in the doorway. I took her hand and tugged her inside. Horace's hooves clomped on the old boards. Alex closed the doors behind us.
"How did . . . how did they get here?" I asked.
Pastor Gene reached out and grasped a white rose at the end of a pew, pinched it. The petals dissolved. "We were going to have a wedding here when the End Times came."
"I meant the snakes." My voice was timid, echoing up to the dark ceiling.
The snakes had begun to drop off of the pastor, the heavy weight of them striking the floor, slapping the boards with echoing thumps. They slithered off beneath the pews. Behind me, Ginger whimpered.
"They began to show up shortly after the Darkness fell. When the news anchors were reporting that an infectious agent had been released on the East Coast, were telling everyone to stay indoors, I came here to pray, and noticed all the snakes on the bank of the creek." He pointed through a window. "This is the creek where we do baptisms. Sunday Creek."
Minding where I stepped, I peered through the thick glass. The creek shimmered in the sunset. I saw ribbons of snakes in blacks, browns, and greens knotted in a mass on the bank. The sight transfixed me-it was like watching living water.
"I knew it was a sign," he said.
I swallowed. "Back in my community, the ravens all left."
He nodded. "God speaks to the animals."
I glanced at the garter snake staring at me, unblinking, beneath his beard. "Do you . . . talk to them?"
He chuckled. "No. I don't. But I have no reason to fear them. The Holy Spirit moves in me. It's one of God's gifts. The Bible tells us:
And these signs shall follow them that believe: In my name shall they cast out devils; they shall speak with new tongues. They shall take up serpents; and if they drink any deadly thing, it shall not hurt them; they shall lay hands on the sick, and they shall recover."
"From the Book of Mark," I said.
He smiled. "You're a good student of the Bible. And: 'Behold, I give unto you power to tread on serpents and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy: and nothing shall by any means hurt you.'"
"Luke," I said.
His eyes shone, and I wanted to believe him. The garter snake flicked its tongue out at me.
I flinched in the face of that evidence.
"Do you feel the Spirit dwelling in you?" he asked.
I stared out the window, at the last bit of sun reflected on the baptismal water of Pastor Gene's creek. "I . . . I have not been baptized." My cheeks flamed. "Amish are not baptized until they are old enough to choose the church of their free will."
"And you didn't choose to?" His dark eyes searched me. "Or didn't have time?"
"My parents wanted me to be. But . . ." I struggled for words. "Before the end of Outside, I had intended on going on Rumspringa. With some of my friends, and a boy."
Pastor Gene glanced at Alex. "That boy?"
I shook my head, and my blush deepened. "No. An Amish boy. Elijah. We were to be married." I could hear the words coming out of me in a flood, like the stream below, didn't try to stop them. "He was baptized in a hurry after we learned of the end of Outside, before the Darkness. I wasn't ready. I was too . . . rebellious."
The corner of Pastor Gene's mouth quirked up. "That boy, Alex-was he part of your rebellion?"
"Ja. In a way. I found him injured beyond the fence of our property. The Elders told me to leave him there. They knew that the Darkness had come, but I couldn't leave him to die." I folded my hands at my waist. "I could not accept the Ordnung, the rules, and be baptized while harboring a fugitive."
"And the woman, Ginger? Was she also a fugitive?"
"No. She just happened to be on our land when the order to close the gate came. I breed-used to breed-dogs, and she sells them for me in the English community."
"I see. And your community?"
I shook my head. "The vampires were let in. Not by me, but they are inside. The Elders put us under the Bann . . . turned Alex, Ginger, and me out. So I don't know what happened after I left. I hope that our Hexenmeister can help them."
"What's a Hexenmeister?" His brow wrinkled and he lingered a bit on the first syllable.
"He does the Lord's work," I explained. "But not in the way that clergy does. He paints hex signs and writes letters to God-Himmelsbriefen. He knew about the vampires, tried to keep us safe."
"I've known some Plain folks in my time, and I've never heard of that." His words were slow, a bit suspicious.
"Our community is a bit different from other Plain communities, in that way," I said. "The Hexenmeister came over with the Pennsylvania Dutch. We have always kept a remnant of those old ways." I stared at my reflection in the glass. "It may be a good thing. If they listen to him."
It was a while before Pastor Gene spoke. "My parishioners are baptized at a young age," he said, without judgment. "Usually in summer, when the water's warm."
"You walk in the creek?"
He shook his head and lowered his hands. "All in. The Spirit dwells within all of us. Baptism fills us up with God. The Lord washes us clean of our sins. And then there's a picnic."
I could picture it: a sunny day, by that cheerful creek, people playing in the grass rather than snakes, the smell of good food.