is in all that you see. He is in the air we breathe, the light that shines upon us, in the chirp of insects and the splash of the waves. God is everywhere and everything, for the world is His creation.”
“I do not believe you. Take me to this place you call Heaven. I want to see it.”
“The gates of Heaven open only to those who have professed faith in Our Lord, and in his son, Jesus Christ.”
Iriputiz gave a snort of disdain. “This is all a story,” he said, and stamped out of the church.
“I don’t think I’m cut out for this,” I confessed to Clarissa. “These people need something more tangible than words. It’ll take fire and brimstone before they believe.”
“Give it time, Aiden. I’ve noticed much disrepair in Kutumakau and the villages. I shall embark on a mission of restoration, and I have it in mind to create some sort of metal pylon at the top of the highest hill to draw the lightning away from the tree houses. Once these people gain material benefits from our presence, perhaps they’ll be more willing to listen.”
I nodded my approval but felt useless. It also occurred to me that, despite the frequency and ferocity of the electrical storms, Clarissa and I hadn’t once witnessed or heard of an actual lightning strike.
Moving into our new station appeared to cure me of my nocturnal terrors—I credited the light sea breeze I allowed to blow through my room for this—but on the night of the sermon, I suffered a bad dream of a different sort, one so vivid that it might have been real.
I’d retired at about eleven o’clock and, after an hour of restlessness, had fallen into a fitful and incomplete sleep—that state of suspension where one is aware that the body is slack and snores are being produced, but still feels rather too conscious for it to qualify as proper rest.
I was aware of the salt air whispering through my window. I was aware of the perpetual trilling of the frogs. I was aware that drums were rumbling in the jungled hills.
And I was aware that my bedchamber door slowly creaked open.
A cloud of steam billowed into the room, and with it Iriputiz, who appeared to be floating a few inches above the floor. He slid to my bedside and looked down at me.
“I will send you into the final storm, Reverend Fleischer, there to meet the god I serve—a real god! He has a task for you.”
He reached out and grasped my forearm, sinking his long pointed fingernails into my flesh.
With a cry of pain, I jerked awake, sat up, and swatted a large spider from my wrist. It had bitten me, leaving two little puncture marks. I jumped to the floor and chased the pest into a corner of the room where I flattened it with a slipper. I returned to my bed and lay down. I was trembling and a fiery sensation was creeping up my arm. Moments later, everything skewed sideways and I knew no more.
°
A monotonous chanting and distant rumble of thunder summoned me to consciousness. I was on my back, with the stars overhead, and I was moving. It took me a moment to realise that I was being borne along on a stretcher and there were islanders crowding to either side of it. Clarissa’s face hove into view and the light of burning brands reflected in her goggle lenses.
“Are you lucid, Aiden?”
“Of course. What’s happening?” My voice sounded dry and husky.
“Lie still. You’re seriously ill with fever.”
“But I was just sleeping.”
“No. You’ve been ranting and raving for more than a week.”
A week! I could barely credit this, for I had no sense that time had passed.
“Iriputiz says you’re suffering from something called kichyomachyoma—a sickness of the spirit. The islanders are immune to it but we aren’t. I’ve been through our entire pharmaceutical supplies trying to find something to treat it, but nothing has worked. The witch doctor assures me he can cure you with local herbs, so we’re taking you to the place in the hills where they grow. Apparently, they are only effective in the few minutes after they are picked.”
“No,” I croaked. “I’ll be all right. Don’t take me into the hills. There are—there are things there.”
“I’m scared you’re dying, Aiden. I don’t know what else to do. What things?”
“Things. They aren’t human. I saw one. The villagers had killed it. It was—it was a demon!” I struggled to sit up,