Chapter 33 - Lowyn

"Why the hell would my mother want to talk to you, Lowyn McBride?"

Ike's response kinda shocks me. Probably because I was looking through that photo album, so my temper has simmered down a little. But he's been outside doin' whatever, so his must still be boilin' over.

"She probably doesn't." I force myself to stay calm. "But I have something to say to her."

"Well, let's hear it. And I'll pass it along."

I sigh. I could insist, I guess. But this direction feels like a brand-new fight and I'm trying to defuse things. "I would just like to apologize to her. And your sisters. And…" I force myself to say this last part. "And you, too."

His brows are all furrowed up. "For what, exactly?"

"For… running away, I guess."

"You guess?"

I'm mad now, I can't help it. "Ya know what? Fuck you, Ike. I was hurt that day. Probably did have a concussion. But above and beyond that, I was sad. It was my mama's first birthday after her death. I was missing her that night. And I was tired. I did the whole fuckin' Revival myself that first year like I was a grown-up, and I wasn't. I was a kid." I point at him. "You knew that."

He points back. "You wanted to stay. You're the one who brought it up."

"I wasn't thinking clearly."

"And you weren't a kid, Lowyn. You were twenty years old, for fuck's sake. People around here, they've got three kids of their own by the time they're twenty."

"Well, I'm not from here! I was a newly dropped-out college student in the middle of a new adult crisis and fighting off depression and fear. I'm allowed to make mistakes. And I get it." I point to the photo album. "It was real to you people?—"

"To you people?"

"It was real to you, but it wasn't real to me. And it wasn't legal." So much for that olive branch I had been plannin' to offer.

"You think we're just a bunch of stupid hillbillies, don't you?"

"I was gonna apologize and you just went and ruined it. Forget it. I'm not sorry. I'm mad. You took advantage of me?—"

"Fuuuuuuck. You!" he says all dramatically. "I pulled you out of a wreck. Probably saved your life, since you had a concussion and all. Where was Collin Creed that night, huh?"

"He's got nothing to do with this and you know it."

"He killed Olive's daddy!"

"That man broke into Collin's house and tried to kidnap her!"

"She was his child! That's not kidnapping!"

"It most certainly is." I growl these words out. The fucking audacity. I just can't. "If he really was Olive's father—and I really don't believe you. I mean, you people can just say and think whatever you want, fuck proving it true, right? But even if she was, he broke in. We were all scared. Collin did what anyone would do. Even you. Are you really trying to tell me that if Pastor Creed had broken into one of these houses and tried to steal a child, none of you would've blown his head off?" I scoff. "Jim Bob made me come up here today to sort this out because he said I was the only one who could get up the hill without being shot. That's the reputation this place has. Not to mention all your fuckin' secrets." I put up my hands to stop him, because he's opening his mouth to talk back. "I don't want your stupid secrets. I don't care what you're doing up here. I'm fuckin' sorry that I broke your heart, or whatever?—"

He guffaws. "You wish."

"Then what the hell is wrong with you, Ike Monroe? Why are you such a flaming asshole?"

His eyes blaze up and he comes at me. I step backwards—again and again—until my back is pressed up against a wall and Ike Monroe is looming over me, his face red with anger.

He's embarrassed, I think. I've embarrassed him. "I think you liked me," I whisper. His face is so close, we could be kissing. But he's so hot with anger, I know with a hundred percent certainty that he's not thinking about kissing me.

He wants to hit me.

But I don't care. I'm gonna say what I've always thought and he can do whatever the hell he wants with it. "I think you liked me a lot. And when I walked out, you took it personal. Like a fuckin' teenage boy. Because that marriage ceremony we had, it wasn't about love, was it, Ike? No." He's grittin' his teeth and clenching his jaw as he leans into my face. "It wasn't about love, it was about power. Your power over me. And maybe over Collin, even though he'd already been gone two years at that point. You are a small, small man with an ego the size of this mountain."

He slaps me. Hard. Right across the cheek. My head jerks to the side and I let out a breath, very surprised that he lost control like this.

But I haven't lost control. Not at all. No one has ever slapped me. Ever. So I haven't been conditioned to be afraid of it yet.

I turn my head back and look him straight in the eyes. "You're a monster. I'm glad I left you. It was the best decision I ever made. No one will ever love you. And fuck you, and fuck your mother"—he slaps me again, but I just laugh this time and look him in the eyes again—"and fuck this whole place."

He takes a step back, and for a moment I think it's over. But then I realize he's making a fist and the next blow is probably gonna knock me out.

I look him in the eyes and dare him to do it. In fact, I take it one step further. Because if I'm gonna get hit by this piece of shit, then I'm gonna make it worth it. "No wonder Olive's mama wanted to leave."

"You bitch," he snarls. "Don't you?—"

But I cut him off. "No wonder Lasher walked out too."

His fist is still in play. And he's seething. But there's a moment here when he maybe wavers. Then his anger is too much and I know he's gonna do it.

But in that same moment, something outside draws his attention. There's a commotion. People yelling, but also… something else. Something that sounds like a loudspeaker.

I let out a laugh.

Ike walks over to the closest window, looking out. "What the fuck is that?"

My breath comes out in a rush. "That, you asshole, is the Call to Revival."

He leaves the kitchen and opens the front door.

I follow, because this is over now and he knows it as well as I do.

Two seconds.

That's how long you have to push Collin Creed into action.

Two seconds and then he takes care of business.

Outside people are panicking. Running all over the place. And from within the trees comes the sermon, in Pastor Creed's own voice, just like it does every day during Revival.

"When you look upon the hills, the sun shining on the peaks"—this is coming from off to the left—"and you hear the rumble in the distance"—this is coming from my right—"don't you ever forget that behind it comes the glory!" That comes from above and everyone looks up. There is—I squint, because for a moment I think it's a bird, but it's not. It's a drone. And it's belting out Revival words.

I laugh out loud as the sermon continues. "And as that rumble resonates into the echo on the water"—these words come from the forest—"let it be a sign! A sign that the righteous will find comfort in the brave"—there are too many drones to count, and now they all call out in unison—"and the danger will exist only in the damaged. Because when you give yourself to something higher, you will feel the relief that comes with the emptiness of anger and you will know, in your heart, that the blessing of grace is now upon you!"

It ends the way it always ends. With Pastor Creed doin' his best impression of Billy Sunday back in the righteous revival tents of the Great Depression.

Ike has a gun out now, and he's shootin' at them.

I scream, and start running. Because he's crazy! He slapped me just because I said some words he didn't like. He was gonna hit me with a closed fist next. He's angry and out of control. And that gun could just as easily point in my direction.

The shootin' stops, but I don't have time to be relieved because I can hear him coming after me. He reaches for my jacket, gets a hold of my hood, and the only reason I get away is because I unzip it and fling my arms backwards, letting it slip off me.

I run harder towards the trail that starts between the blacksmith and the stable that will take me the hell outta here. But it's far, and I know Ike is already back on his feet.

Then there's a noise—a thumping in the air—and when I look up there is a giant military helicopter with two propellers, one on each end, coming down right at us.

The wind from this massive piece of machinery blows everything around and almost knocks me down.

And even though there is a helipad on the other side of the village, it does not waste time landing on the helipad. It lands right in the gravel street.

I'm on the ground now, and there are men everywhere with guns. Village men, not military.

Stairs fold down from the helicopter and out comes… well, some military man. An older gentleman with lots of colorful things on his very important-looking uniform. He's got a bullhorn to his mouth and he yells, "You motherfucking mountain men had better stand down, because if I get shot today, every one of you assholes will be goin' to Hell with me."

I look back at Ike, who is still on his feet, and he must know this man, because he lowers his gun and salutes him.

When I look back at the helicopter four soldiers in all-black armor—helmets and everything, so you can't see their faces—jump out from behind the man, who must be a general or something. They fan out in a pattern, but they are all coming straight at Ike and me with their weapons up and ready to shoot.

Three of them walk up to Ike and push their rifles right up against his face. Hard enough to press into his skin.

The fourth comes over to me, flips the faceplate up on his helmet, and offers me a hand.

Collin stares down at me. "Come on, Low." He's not smiling. He looks pissed. "Let's go."

I take his hand and he helps me up. But before we leave, he lets go of my hand, turns to Ike and aims his rifle right between his eyes. "If you ever come down off this mountain, consider yourself a target. I will take you out, Ike Monroe. And you won't ever see me coming. And then, when I'm done with you, I will firebomb this whole fuckin' place. And if you think I can't get permission to do any of these things, take a look at your commanding officer right there." He juts his chin towards the general in front of the helicopter. "Because he's the guy who gave me a ride in today."

Then he lowers his faceplate, grabs my hand again, and leads me over to the helicopter.

His team follows us, and the next thing I know, we're in the air, heading off the mountain.