With my lovely grandson and groggy son on my left, and my new friend (girlfriend?) on my right, I had not felt this privileged in a long time. Delilah was already a God-fearing woman, and I prayed to our maker every night that with enough time, Park might learn to fear him too. I mean isn’t that how all love starts? Well, maybe not, but with God it did. Maybe the best way to describe it is like that thing I saw on TV about Stockholm Syndrome, named after a bank robbery in Sweden in the 1970s. See, the people in the bank got held hostage by the robbers for a few days, and after a while, they started to feel sorry for the robbers and almost fell in love with them. It’s just that God and Jesus don’t rob banks. I mean they could if they wanted to, but why does God need money? The church needs money, but God doesn’t need money. Maybe Jesus needed money when he was a carpenter. I’m starting to think this might not be the best comparison. Maybe it’s more like the way a loyal dog fears its master. Although if that’s the case, I guess Dan didn’t love me much. Yes he did. He just pretended he wasn’t afraid of me. Or respect me. Or listen to me. 

I haven’t got a clue what I was talking about. 

Right, the church. It wasn’t full, but there were a few more strange faces. Slowly but surely young faces were starting to fill the pews. If things kept going the way they were, half the church congregation might soon be under sixty. There were no more outbursts from the Americans, but sometimes you could feel the tension. I know those people went through a lot, but there shouldn’t be any tension in church. A church is a place to honour God and his only son. It’s a place to build a sense of community and share common goals like charity, goodwill, and not burning in Hell.  

“I think Reverend Tom must be getting a bad lower back,” I whispered to Delilah when he walked out to the alter. 

“Why?” 

“His chest seems stuck out a lot more the last few weeks.” 

Delilah thought that was so funny that she could hardly contain herself from laughing out loud. I didn’t have a clue what she was laughing at, but I smiled like I did. 

“Sorry, I’m not used to you being sarcastic,” she whispered, holding her hand over her mouth. 

I wasn’t, but I enjoyed seeing her laugh so much that I pretended I was in on the joke. It’s strange when you don’t get a joke that came out of your own mouth. Happens to me a lot. 

“Good morning ladies and gentlemen,” the Reverend said. 

“Good morning Reverend Tom,” half of us responded. 

“Well that’s not very enthusiastic for this beautiful day of our Lord. Good morning ladies and gentlemen.” 

“Good morning Reverend Tom,” we said, more people this time. 

“You’re getting there,” he said. “Good morning congregation!” 

“Good morning Reverend Tom!” we shouted back. 

“Just a liiiitle bit more,” he said. “Goo—“ 

“GOOD MORNING REVEREND TOM!” a cranky Melvin yelled at the top of his lungs with his hands cupped over his mouth. “How much louder do we need to say it?” he mumbled under his breath then. Delilah and I got such a fright we nearly jumped into the pew in front of us. Melvin wasn’t a morning person. And it was a Sunday after all, so he was probably hung over too. Park thought it was funny, but even he jumped. 

 “There’s the…enthusiasm I’m looking for,” the Reverend said.

“Another sold-out house as is usual and beautiful these days,” he said, grinning down at us. I glanced back. It wasn’t sold out, but I guess in comparison to years past it seemed that way. Not that the seats cost money. Unless you count the collection plate. 

“Some pre-show announcements as always,” he said. “Concerning the Meta auction next Wednesday. Please don’t donate heart pills, or any kind of prescribed, or even over the counter, medication. I don’t know who it was, but we had two full bottles of penicillin donated last auction, and something called Clopydog … Cloppidoodle …. Clopidogrel? Whatever, some kind of heart pill. It’s dangerous and quite frankly, bizarre. I know medical bills are tough for some, but please keep your unused medication at home. 

The Men’s Fellowship barbecue is canceled for this week as sadly, the cow we had planned to harvest at Hoderly’s Free Range Farm, was killed and eaten by some animal, or animals. Considering most of the cow was eaten very quickly, it seems unlikely that it was just one animal. Probably wolves. Nothing has been confirmed yet—"

“Wasn’t it confirmed to be those wild dogs everyone is talking about?” Suzane White said.   

The Reverend looked uncomfortable. “No, it’s not definite.” 

“They have it on video,” Suzane said. “Three dogs and all of them are wearing collars. That’s the strange thing. So they’re not wild at all.”

“The video footage is blurry,” the Reverend said. 

“No, I saw it yesterday on Meta. Crystal clear.”

“Agree to disagree?” the Reverend said, with a quick glare at me.

“Sorry, Reverend I could never do that.” 

“Agree to disagree? We can’t disagree to disagree. That would mean we agree.” 

“I know what I saw. It’s agree to agree or nothing.” 

“But…” He shook his head and stared out at the congregation. “Let's start with a hymn, shall we? Number 25 in the good ol’ Progressive Voices United hymn book. It’s Okay if You Don’t Believe. A modern classic, and one of my favourites.

“I guess this one is dedicated to me,” Park mumbled. 

As we sang the first song Delilah plugged her left ear, which I figured was because she wanted to sing harmony, but maybe it was because I was singing next to her. 

That’s when I heard a noise at the back of the church. It took me a moment to figure out it was probably someone who had arrived late. Is it so hard to make it to church on time on a Sunday? It’s not like it’s in the middle of the week. I glanced back but I wasn’t on a good angle, and I’m not a tall man anyway, or even average, so I couldn’t see who it was over the people standing behind me. But when I looked back at Reverend Tom, his face was so white it looked like he was going to pass out. I was near the front so I could actually see the beads of sweat that were on his brow and upper lip, while he kept glancing without trying to be obvious, at the person or family that just came in. For a second, I wondered if it was someone with a crossbow. But mass shooting with a crossbow didn’t seem like an easy task. 

The Reverend was wiping away the sweat on his brow and lip with the alter cloth. He wasn’t even singing anymore, he was just moving his jaws up and down while he kept glancing at the back of the church, and smiling like someone in a hostage video trying to put on a good face. I kept looking back but I couldn’t see anything strange. 

But then I happened to be staring out the window when the song ended, we sat down, and the Reverend tried to do his sermon. I saw something shift behind the glass, like the trees were bending in weird ways. And then it stayed there. Hovering. The body had some kind of cloaking thing, but I could make out the blur of the propellors. Pepe. He was watching. Now I knew who had just walked in the church, and I started to sweat along with Reverend Tom.  

The Reverend’s sermon meandered all over the place. I suppose the poor guy found it hard to focus with two illegal aliens that he helped transport sitting in the back of his church with no identification, while the coyotes who was harbouring them sat at the front. 

Melvin still had not figured out what was going on at the back of the church, but my boy being who he is, just got annoyed and stood up in the middle of the sermon and looked back. As I said before, Melvin doesn’t turn after me when it comes to height (or anything else). He would have been able to see over their heads if everyone was standing up, let alone sitting down. When he saw who it was, he turned around with his jaw set so hard I’m surprised he didn’t chip a tooth. He slowly turned his head towards me and darted it towards the back in a Did you see who the fuck that was? fashion. I don’t like to curse, but I know that’s what he was thinking. I nodded back to him, trying not to be obvious because Delilah was on the other side of me. 

Eventually Reverend Tom seemed to gather himself. He still looked uncomfortable, but he continued with the service as if everything was normal. Truth be told, during the last part of the service he seemed to have more holy spirit in him than I had seen in a while. Being scared witless can probably do that. Puts you closer to God. Or the Devil, depending on who you are. 

“I had a sermon planned for this part of the service, but I think I’m going to change it,” he said, flipping through the Bible. 

“Why is his voice trembling?” Delilah whispered. “Is he nervous?” 

“Ah, here’s what I’m looking for. Psalm 32:8 to 9, ‘I will instruct in you and teach in you the way you should go; I will counsel you with my eye upon you. Do not be like the horse or mule, which have no understanding but must be controlled by bit and bridle or they will not come to you.’” As he said all that he stared at the back of the church like the rest of the congregation wasn’t there. “There’s debate on whether these words came from God or David. In this instance I think they’re most likely from David. The comparison to stubborn people as a donkey or horse is very apt as well. Some people simply cannot be told what to do. Some guys are actually worse than a donkey. They just will not follow instructions! Some will even go to places they’ve been expressly forbidden to go until it’s safe. Some people.”

Everyone seemed a bit confused, except Number 3 at the back of the church who shouted, “Amen!” 

The Reverend stopped and stared at him, then continued. “So…for the love of God people, when someone as wise and Godly as David, or say, someone who also preaches the good word, gives you instructions that will literally keep you…safe, then listen to him?”  

 “Tell it Reverend. Praise Jesus!” Box shouted. 

“Are these guys fucking idiots?” Melvin growled at me under his breath.

“Especially if it literally keeps you out of jail,” Reverend Tom continued. 

“Amen!” Number 3 shouted again with his head down and his right hand held high. They weren’t even being sarcastic.

“Donkeys, or asses as they are also referred,” the Reverend said. “I’m comparing you to asses who don’t take instructions so that you don’t get thrown in jail. Do you get it…people?” The congregation went from confused to uncomfortable. 

“Is he calling me an arse?” I heard Don Reardon whisper to his wife.

“No Don, he’s calling us all arses,” she whispered back.   

“Godda —Jes —Judas!” Melvin growled. “I’m going to go back there and beat the two of them into one now in a minute.” 

Then they started speaking in tongues. “Oh gooba goba grada lexus geeloba-“  

“Nope, no, no we don’t do that here,” the Reverend said, holding up a hand, but that only made them worse. Then another woman around halfway up, another American, started in with them.   

“Oh boy,” Delilah said. 

Someone else started in tongues on the other side of the church. Then another. And another. A kid started in. 

The Reverend glanced around nervously. “Now I mean, there’s nothing wrong with speaking in tongues! Because when that glory is in you, when that spirit has you fired up, you gotta rise to the occasion! You gotta rise up!” 

“AMEN!” half the church shouted. 

“You got to answer! That! Call!” 

“Amen!” everyone shouted. 

“Praise his name!” Number 3 shouted from the back. 

“When the holy voice comes rolling through, you gotsta be listenin’ man!” the Reverend shouted, hopping up and down on his toes. “You gotta put your hands in the air and close your eyes and shout to the heavens-ah!” 

“Praise Jesus!” everyone shouted with their eyes closed and their hands raised. 

“Is he trying to act like one of those holy roller preachers?” Delilah whispered in my ear. 

“Praise Jesus!” I shouted. The spirit was in me now too. 

“Will you ignore him-ah!” 

“No!” the congregation shouted, and now the organist was hitting the keys in rhythm with their answers. 

“Will you put him aside-ah!” 

“No!” 

“I said-ah, will you put him aside-ah!” 

“No!” 

“You can’t ignore him-ah? He gonna come down here and shout his name in your soul-ah! He gonna be callin’ yo name-ah!” 

Everyone was up on their feet now, and the organist started playing a fast rhythm that I never heard before. It was gospel, but it was fast. 

“What’s going on here?” Delilah asked. 

“When he come down, he gooda vangoola bodanga absoluta! Be bop busta ryhma!” 

People were dancing in the aisles now to no music. I wanted to dance with them. Half the church was speaking in tongues and I was, I hate to admit it, jealous. Why wasn’t the holy language coming through me? 

All of a sudden Melvin jumped up, hopped up and down, and started in at the top of his lungs, “Shabba labba ding dong Shoba Sheeba Shoulda Coulda Woulda Gonnakickemoutta!” The Reverend looked at him and nodded his head towards the back while everyone else in the congregation had their eyes closed, holding their hands in the air. Well, everyone except the former United and the Quakers. They were clutching each other and looking towards the nearest emergency exit. 

Melvin, still jumping up and down, moved, no, hopped, past me, past Delilah, nearly knocking her down, and into the isle. He hopped, skipped, and jumped around with the other half dozen in the isle and worked his way towards the back. Everyone was gone foolish now with the holy spirit. Including me, but I was watching too. 

“Wobba Wodda Weeba Wheretheyatta?” Melvin kept shouting over and over.

“Oh booka balkca samalacka Backleftcorna Backleftcorna!” the Reverend with his eyes closed shouted back, pointing to the back left corner.  

“Seeba zamata superman supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!” Park with his eyes closed yelled next me, but I could see the grin on his face that he didn’t have the glory in him. He was only poking fun. 

“Keep your eyes closed!” the Reverend shouted at the congregation. “If you want the glory of God, for the love of God keep your eyes closed! Praise Jesus-ah! Praise his name-ah!” 

Meanwhile Melvin was still making his way towards the back, jumping and shouting. I turned around to watch him as I shouted too. Finally, he got near the back where Number 3 and Box were shouting, jumping, and dancing with their eyes closed. He grabbed each one of them by the scruff of the neck with his big meaty palms and slung the two of them through the door, and danced and hopped right out behind them. When everyone opened their eyes they didn’t even notice they were gone. The only ones who saw everything was me and Reverend Tom. 

Reverend Tom decided to end the service ten minutes early. It was probably a good idea because now almost all of us were soaked in sweat. Poor Mrs. Preely was still panting like a dog when we put her back in her wheelchair. I honestly don’t know how she got out of it. She kept shouting “It’s a miracle! It’s a miracle!” She went from being confined to her wheelchair to rolling around on the floor.  Can you imagine? And people have the nerve to say there is no such thing as God. She almost rolled herself right up to the altar! Park didn’t see the big deal, but I thought it was a big step up for her. Well, not a step per se. 

When we got out by the door my car was gone, so we assumed Melvin had brought them back home. I can’t imagine the curses that he must of ran up and down those two bozos. I was honestly afraid that he might have hurt one of them. Apparently, Pepe was automatically programmed to go to social media if he did that, so I had my fingers crossed. 

“Now that was dogshit!” Park said. 

“Vulgar language, but I agree,” Delilah said. 

“He doesn’t mean it like that,” I said. 

“If every service was that entertaining, I’d go by myself!” Park said.

“Really?” I said. 

“No.” 

“It was definitely a bit of excitement,” I said. “Might have got a little out of hand.” 

“A little out of hand?” Delilah said. “I thought it was the most insane thing I ever witnessed in my life. Did I see a bra thrown on the alter?” 

“Yeah, that was Mrs. Preely,” Park said. “She did that before she slid out of her wheelchair. How did she get out of it without taking her shirt off?” 

“It can be done,” Delilah said. “Thank God.”  

Reverend Tom actually beat me back to my house. I could hear him shouting downstairs as I went in the front door. I never heard him shout before, and I don’t like being around people when they’re angry, so I didn’t go down until he stopped.

Melvin wasn’t shouting, but his face was red. Maybe he was shouted out by the time I got there. Box and Number 3 weren’t backing down either. They didn’t look afraid. They never looked afraid. 

“Pepe requires facial recognition from the both of us twice a day or he is programmed to post on social media,” Box was saying. 

“He can easily get facial recognition out by the door,” I said. “You didn’t need to go to church.” 

“And have your son shoot it out of the air with a rifle or something? I don’t think so.” 

“Paranoid?” Melvin said. “We don’t go around with handguns and rifles stuffed in our coats like that shithole of a country you came from.”

“Shotguns?” Box asked. 

“Nope.” 

“Grenades?” 

“Nope.” 

“So you have some sort of advanced Tasers or A.I drones—”  

“No! All we’re allowed to have is long bows and compact bows.”

“How do you protect yourself then?” 

“Protect ourselves from what?” Melvin said. “There’s no crime. Not much.” 

“The government, or terrorists.” 

“Why would we need to protect ourselves from the government?”  

“Because they took all your guns. Why would they do that?” 

“Because of you! All you fuckin magas trying to take over the government.” 

“We didn’t try to take over the government, they tried to take over us. And we’re from a shithole country? Aren’t you a New Finland country boy?”

“Newfoundland!” Melvin, Reverend Tom, and I shouted at the same time. 

“Do you mean a bayman?” Melvin asked.  

“And you don’t like guns?” 

“You don’t need a gun when you can hit a bullseye at two hundred yards with a compact bow.”

“Sure you were cursing the government to high heaven when they banned guns,” I said.

“There you go!” Number 3 said. Melvin just stared at me and shook his head.

“Do you realize how much attention you drew to yourselves?” Reverend Tom said. “And not just you. What about us? What about the danger you put us all in today? Do you not appreciate everything we went through to arrange and execute this? Are you so selfish?” 

“Do you not appreciate the money we paid you?” Number 3 said. 

“Will you stop saying that?” the Reverend said. “Melvin got paid, yes, but a part of the transaction is that you two are supposed to stay low until we get you sorted out. If the Elders finds this out…let alone the authorities.” 

“The Elders got paid just like Melvin did. And so did you.”

“All I get is a salary from the church,” Reverend Tom said, his face reddening a bit. 

“We know that isn’t true,” Box said. Melvin grinned and waited for Reverend Tom’s response. 

“You are grossly misinformed young man,” the Reverend said. 

“We did our research,” Box said. “You and the church get a cut that the coyotes know nothing about.” 

“The church does. I don’t.” 

“Whatever you say, Reverend Tom.” 

“It’s just two weeks,” the Reverend said, changing the subject. “Can’t you just wait two weeks to get everything cleared away? I get that you probably have a strong faith and perhaps you haven’t missed a service in a while, but I’m sure the Lord will forgive you in this circumstance.”

“Oh it’s not like that,” Number 3 said. “I’m a believer, but neither of us are what you call avid churchgoers.”

“Yeah, I’m more agnostic,” Box said. 

“I say we murder them and bury them in the fucking backyard,” Melvin said, and Judas Iscariot, I almost agreed with him. He wasn’t serious, but in that moment, I wanted to strangle them as much as he did. And the way Reverend Tom was rubbing his temples led me to believe he might have dug the graves.  

“But you were speaking in tongues,” the Reverend said through clenched teeth. 

“Oh that?” Box said, waving it away. “We just got caught up in the moment.” 

“What moment? No one else was speaking in tongues.”

“Are you sure?” Number 3 said. 

“Of course I’m sure!” the Reverend shouted, then took a deep breath and quieted himself. “Yes. I am sure. That was the first time since my ministry in that church that anyone has ever spoken in tongues. Ever.”

“Well everyone certainly got the hang of it,” Number 3 said. Box nodded in happy agreement. “Half of them are probably Americans anyway. We don’t have trouble speaking in tongues.” 

Reverend Tom blurted, “I don’t even…” but he stopped himself, then he leaned back and stared at the ceiling. “What are we going to do with them?” he said, more to himself than anyone else. Or maybe to God. When he sat up straight again he said, “So what is your plan exactly? Are you just going to roam around this tiny town, two strangers who burst into church speaking in tongues, just doing what you want, when you want? I imagine you’re already the talk of the town. What in the name of all that is holy is your plan?” 

“Do you think we would tell on you guys if we got caught?” Number 3 said.

“I don’t know what to think. What is it you want? What are your goals?” 

“We already told you all that,” Number 3 said. “We want to make a documentary about American refugees in Newfoundlin. That’s it. That’s our goal. And we’re not going to hold ourselves up in this shit hole —no offense, Gil—” 

“None taken.” 

“—any longer.”

“It’s not two years man,” the Reverend said, “it’s two weeks. I could live in an outhouse for two weeks. You’re not even being reasonable.”

“I guess we just don’t see the big deal,” Number 3 said. 

Melvin, Reverend Tom, and I just sat and stared at each other. There was simply no getting through to these two. We decided to go for a walktalk. 

“They have us over a barrel,” Reverend Tom said, as he gazed up at the birch on the way to my wharf. “I really don’t know what we can do other than lock them in the basement until I get their identities straightened out. But then, supposedly, the drone will upload.” He stopped and looked around. “It’s probably recording us right now.”

“How do we know they’re not bluffing?” Melvin said. “Maybe that thing isn’t programmed to do anything except record.” 

“It’s A.I. It can be told to do anything.” 

“Like make itself invisible,” I said.

They laughed.  

“Seriously. I saw it.” 

They stared at me. 

“You saw it? That seems like a contradiction, Gilbert,” Reverend Tom said. 

“I mean, it wasn’t perfectly invisible. It was like a round mirror almost, but not reflecting any light. Like The Terminator.” 

“Is that an old movie?” Reverend Tom said. “Sounds familiar. 

 “It was an action movie with that fella, Arnold Schwarzenegger.” 

“Never heard of him,” Melvin said. 

“Anyway, there was this monster in the movie called The Terminator, and it was an alien, and it tracked down Schwarzenegger in the jungle, but see, it could make itself invisible. It could melt like wax too, and turn into different shapes. Oh, there was a young boy too, and his mother. They helped the Terminator I think… Anyway, it was a good movie.” 

Melvin stared at me for a moment and turned to Reverend Tom. “Maybe if we locked them in, but explained to them as we’re doing it, that it’s for their own good, and we’re not going to hurt them. We’ll just tell them to call off Pepe, wait two weeks, and then they can do what they want.”   

“You don’t believe me,” I said. “I saw Pepe outside the church window before the bozos started in on the tongues. It can make itself invisible. No joke.” 

“Cloak itself,” Melvin said, rolling his eyes. “Dad, magas don’t have that kind of tech for sale.”

“Well, they’re not short on money.”

“I know I’m getting short on patience,” Melvin said.

“It really troubles me the way they just don’t seem concerned about anything,” the Reverend said. “It’s not normal.” 

“They’re too dumb to be concerned about anything,” Melvin said. “As much as I’d like to bar them in if for no other reason than to piss them off, I don’t think it’s a good idea. It’s not worth the chance. If they’re bluffing then there’s still a good chance people will just think they’re some more magas that are legit. If we bar them in and the drone posts online, then there’s no chance. We all go to jail.”

I felt my insides turn to liquid when he said that. There was something about the matter-of-fact way that he said it that made me truly realize for the first time how much of a risk we were taking. 

“Judas, I gotta go,” I said, and took off for the woods. 

Melvin rolled his eyes. “Here we go.” 

“Where’s he go —oh,” Reverend Tom said behind me. “Take your time, Gilbert. No rush.” 

No rush? He didn’t have my bowels. Squatting behind a big pine I wondered if Pepe was watching me. If it was, I didn’t think they would include it in the documentary, but with these guys, who knew? If someone had told me the year before that I’d be squatting behind a tree worrying about a drone watching me because two American refugees that I was harbouring might include it in a documentary, I would have laughed in his face. I was starting to think I had made some bad decisions in the last year. My whole life I had taken the easy road for everything, but now I was a criminal, not on the run, but with the runs. Almost as bad. Then I realized something worse. I had nothing to wipe my arse with. The nearest birch tree was fifty feet away, so I frog-hopped over (not an easy task at that age) and tore a few leaves off. I decided then and there I would carry a half roll of toilet paper in my pocket with me for the rest of my life whether it was ten more years, or a thousand. Why didn’t I think of this before? 

When I got back the boys were done talking. 

“We made up our minds and we hope you’ll agree with us,” Reverend Tom said. 

“We’re doing it whether he agrees with us or not. Two against one.” 

“We’ve decided to bar them in,” the Reverend said. “They’ll be angry at first, but I’m going to throw a note down to them before Melvin starts. Melvin will nail over the two basement windows with plywood while you’re locking the door, and we’ll bar that over with two-by-four as well. I can’t see any alternative. If anyone asks about them from church we’ll say they were tourists, and we don’t know where they came from. After I get their identification straightened away it won’t matter.” 

“What if they flip out?” I asked. 

“Flip out?” Reverend Tom asked. 

“I think he means lose their palms, go crazy,” Melvin said. “He still uses words from the crazy 80’s.”

“I’m going to go to the house and write a convincing letter first. I will beg and plead with them to understand that it’s for their own good. Hopefully they accept it. They’ll have to.” 

I looked around. “What if Pepe is listening?” 

Silence. 

So Reverend Tom went back to his house and wrote the letter. Park managed to get his hands on the letter before we threw it downstairs and he said, “Bang, now that’s a diplomatic letter.”                                                                                                                    

To Whom It May Concern, 

Melvin, Gilbert, and I have decided that for your own safety, and to be honest, ours, we are going to be letting you stay in the basement for the next week or so (I’ve already started on the arrangements so it will not be two weeks). It would perhaps be helpful not to think of it as kidnapping, but more as enhanced caregiving with limited access. You’re more than welcome to go anywhere you want as long as it is within the confines of the basement. Every amenity will be provided, and I’ve even convinced my lovely wife, who is an amazing cook by the way, to make you a homemade meal every day, and have it sent to you. Said meals will be passed in through the basement window on the eastern side of the house. We will also allow Pepe to do facial recognition through said window. 

We hope you and Pepe will cooperate with us, as this is a guarantee that once I have your documents in order, you can rejoin the outside world and be a proud Canadian citizen. 

Please don’t interpret this as a negative action. We simply feel this is necessary under the circumstances. 

Have a pleasant day, and God bless.

-Your humble servant,

Reverend Thomas Brown  

The three of us were ready early the next morning. Melvin had the two by four ready, with the screws already half way set to drill in as quickly as possible. Meanwhile Reverend Tom and I were at the window with the pieces of plywood with the screws already set in those as well. One of the pieces were big enough to allow things to be passed through, and big enough to allow visual and audible for Pepe to communicate, but not big enough for them to squeeze through.   

So we got ourselves in position. Reverend Tom threw the note downstairs and brip-brip went the drill as we screwed the boards and two by four in as fast as we could. 

Not a sound. So we waited. And waited. 

And waited. 

“They’re taking their sweet time,” I said. 

“Yeah, maybe I underestimated their aggression,” Reverend Tom said. 

Melvin said, “No, we just underestimated how fuckin lazy they are.” 

After a while we got sick of waiting and went into the house to have breakfast.

The boys didn’t get up until around 11. That’s when we heard the first rattle of the doorknob. Then a knock.

“We got your letter,” Number 3 said through the door. 

“I hope you understand,” Reverend Tom replied. 

“There’s a flaw in your plan though.” 

“Oh yeah, what’s that?” Melvin said. 

“Is there someone missing in your house?” 

“Park don’t live here,” I said. 

“Okay, is there a friend missing?” 

We looked at one another, confused. 

“Think about it,” he said. “Is there a very close friend of Gil’s that’s missing in your house.” 

“Delilah?” I said. 

“For the love of gaw -the dog! I’m talking about the dog. Dan. He’s down here with us.” 

“Judas!” I said. 

“Are you fucking kidding me, Dad?” Melvin said. “You didn’t check to see if the goddamn dog was down there beforehand? Sorry Reverend.” 

“Never entered my thoughts,” I said.

“Well, I guess you’re just going to have to clean up the shit and piss and sling it through the window,” Melvin said to the door. “Because this thing isn’t opening again for two weeks.”