Captive Bride - Alta Hensley Page 0,3

myself for my part in whatever this is. I don’t know why we are doing this. I don’t know Papa Rich’s plan and how any of this could possibly be a good idea. But I know deep down to the tip of my now bloody toes that something is wrong.

When we finally reach the hatch leading to the main house Papa Rich and I live in, I somehow find the words to say, “Papa Rich, what are we doing?”

When his eyes meet mine, the sinister secret only he knows looms near. A surge of terror scorches through my veins.

“There’s a serpent in the garden,” he says. “Judas among us.” He begins to pull the man up the hatch to our home. “So blood will be shed. Unless… unless…”

I exhale a chest full of air as I do my part in this misdeed. I know it is wrong. My Papa Rich is supposed to be a Godly man. A man I never question. But my soul screams no. No, no, no. Forgive me, God. What do I do? Forgive me, God. Forgive me.

With one final push, the man—the stranger—is now in our home.

Hello, Devil. Nice to meet you.

3

Richard

Twenty Years Ago

If a town could be the hairy armpit of the devil, this town would be it. I roll up the cracked window of my pick-up truck to prevent inhaling the fetor of poverty and white trash. If it were possible to avoid this town completely, I would. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. But I need supplies. As soon as I get them bought and loaded in the back of my truck, I will hightail it back to Hallelujah Junction and not leave again until I have to do another supply run.

Hallelujah Junction… my salvation.

God blessed me the day he found me the job of being a ranger for the infamous ghost town hidden in the hills of Nevada. An old mining town long abandoned by the residents for an unknown reason. The 1800s town’s current popularity centers around the fact that every ancient resident left with only the clothes on their backs and what little supplies they could carry. They left everything behind in a hurry to flee. All the furniture, dishes, books, handcrafted items, family heirlooms, hand-stitched clothing, and the hidden secrets of why they deserted their homes remained. It makes the haunted town a living museum of a time long ago. An eerie place turned to stone as if touched by Medusa. Tourists would come from all over the world to see history paused. They wanted answers. Why? Why would the people build a life here, and then vacate so quickly without taking what meant everything to them and what they had worked so hard to gain? Reasons were rumors and speculations only. Plague? Dangers from the daily mining and plundering of the earth such as poisoned water or toxic gases? Impending attack from nearby Indian tribes? No one knew.

I don’t care why they left. I’m happy they did. The town is mine. They left me a gift. Yes, I have to share the bottom half of my utopia with the common folk, even though I despise each one of them. But regardless, Hallelujah Junction is my paradise before I reach Kingdom Come.

But the truth remains…

They stink.

An odor of money and materialism.

A redolence of false promises and fake smiles.

They are walking misery cloaked in designer clothes and shoes.

I loathe the air around them.

But I have a job to perform if I want to remain in my paradise. I have to watch over them and enforce the rules that my boss handed me in a weathered pamphlet when he offered me the position. Health codes, environmental mandates, dictates from the government and all the laws I have to not only abide by but guarantee are followed perfectly.

But the upper half of the town is where I live. I was given a house so that I can live on-site. It is the only piece of property that had been outfitted to meet modern day needs. I would have gladly accepted one of the historical houses and live off the grid, but I was handed the ranger’s house that has indoor plumbing and electricity. Being a ranger is comfortable, and it pays well—not that I have any real need for paper money other than my monthly run into town for supplies. My wealth comes from the land and my solitude.

And the tourists only come during the warmer weather months.