Exodus, Nevada. (1st, Chapter, 1st Draft)

         The day is past and gone,


         The evening shades appear;


         O may we all remember well

         The night of death draws near.

                          

         

It is Wednesday, 7:30 pm in Exodus, Nevada.  The First Baptist Church’s annual potluck is winding down, and the members are making their way to their homes. The women, dressed in long, colorful dresses attempt to hold on to casserole dishes and the hands of their small children.  The men bark out orders to their broods as they mill around and chat to each other. 

         

Audrey Lawrence-Malcowetiz sits in the 1989 station wagon, waiting for her husband to appear.    “Where is that man?”  She says to herself, tapping her fingers against the dashboard. “Where is that man?”  She knows where he is: smoking a cigarette with Sheriff Shore’s son behind the church.  He likes to pretend he quit 20 years ago, but she can smell it on him.

         

“Where is that man?”  She says to herself again.

         

“Mighty cold tonight.”  Says Sheriff Shore to Barry Pedula.

         

“That it is.”   Barry takes a sip of his cola.   At 70 years old Barry has bad knees and is fifty pounds overweight.  Last year he was told he has diabetes.  He’s been taking insulin, which is all he is willing to do.  He figures, what ever happens, it’s in God’s hands.

         

Out of the corner of his eye he’s sees his son’s wife talking to Charlie Bath.  Talking about Mrs. Bath’s tater-tot casserole.  Before he can break up the conversation, his son Angus does it for him: he grabs Camille by her wrist and hauls her away.

           

Barry nods once again to the Sheriff.  “God Bless, Sheriff.  I’ll be seeing ya.’”  He lumbers away, to his truck, which takes some effort getting into.

         

Across from where Barry lives sits “The Church of The Horsemen Coming In Preparation for Christ’s Glory.”  The church is nothing more than an old painted barn, but the idiots who have been attending it, don’t seem to realize that.

                 

There’s a single light on in the trailer next to the church.  And on the step outside is that dammed woman.  Not reading, not smoking, not drinking.  Just sitting. Her black hair blends into the darkness, so all Barry can see is her pale face and her red lips.

        

“What in the hell are you doing?” Barry yells.

         

The woman stands up, and Barry sucks in his breath: even after a year, he still can’t help but be astonished by how tall she is.  For a second it seems she’s about to walk over, but she doesn’t.  She just smiles and walks back into her trailer.

         

Barry yawns. He’s got to get to sleep; he probably should survey the junkyard in the morning.  He’ll a take Angus along as usual, glad that the boy is finally interested in the family business.  Angus was always his favorite.

         

By 10pm.  Barry has fallen asleep on his couch. He’s in the middle of his favorite dream.  His wife is back; she’s young again and she loves him.  She’s sitting in his lounge chair in her panties and her bra.  Her dark brown hair is down around her shoulders, and she is smiling.  “I’ve missed you,” she says.  He usually is awake by this point; his arms reaching out to her.  Barry does not wake up, the dream continues.  She runs a finger down his cheek, sweaty and grime covered from work, then, begins to unhook her bra. Her breasts are beautiful, ripe little things.  She presses herself against him.

        

“I missed you so.” She says.

          

Across town, Lexi Bailey presses her hands against the plastic.  Outside there’s flashing red lights and smoke.  She can make out shapes, hear music; but she can’t get out. She’s had this dream before.  She’s always had this dream.  Usually she’s afraid; she often wakes up screaming.  This time she’s not.  She’ll be free of it soon. 

         

It opens, and a hand reaches out to her.  Lexi takes it.  Smoke fills her vision, then through the smoke she sees a woman with red hair, far redder then hers; and green, green eyes. 

         

“It’s coming, be ready.”

         

Her eyes open.  She fumbles for the motel’s alarm clock, trying to figure out the time. The red numbers on the clock: 1am.  Monday morning.

         

Lexi sits up. It is very cold.  She heard that the desert was cold at night, but this?  Despite the cold, she needs a smoke.  Wrapping a blanket around her, she heads outside.

         

The wind is blowing, and she has to shield her face from the sand.   Off in the distance Lexi is sure she can see lighting.  She tries to think about what her dream meant, but realizes she’s unable to remember it.  Dreams don’t mean shit anyways.

          

She breathes in the air and coughs a little.  Nothing like Hannah’s place in Malibu, but it will have to do. It’s a good place to spend sometime cleaning up.  No access to anything other than booze.

         

3:30 AM.  A man emerges from the trailer next to the church. He is dressed in a bathrobe, and he’s shivering.

         

The man whispers, “Lucille?”  When there is no answer he calls out  again “Lucille?”

        

He remains outside for a few seconds, and then walks back in.