That was enough for Dylan. He got in line to pay for his gas.
“Damn straight, it ain’t normal,” Sonny huffed. “You had to propose to discover she had a whole life in Rain. Why in hell would that be a secret?”
Jake didn’t answer. No matter how many times he thought about it, or Sony mentioned it, he never found a plausible answer.
The cashier was a teenager working his phone and the register at the same time. “Y’all going to Rain?”
“Yes, what do you know about it?” Dylan asked.
“Enough to tell you not to go there. And if you have to go through, don’t stop. Man, that place is messed up.”
“Messed up, how?” Jake and Dylan sounded like twins.
“Aw, man. My church has a whole documentary chronicling the weird shit that happens in that town.”
Sonny cocked his head. “What kind of weird shit?”
“Man...the devil lives there. That whole town is possessed. They make human sacrifices.” The kid shuddered and got three looks of disbelief. “Wait. I’ll drop you a link.” He pulled up some information on his phone.
Sonny woke his phone to establish a Bluetooth connection.
“Read it. Just read it,” the cashier said. “My church has been on this for a long time. I can’t even play sports because that school is in my conference. Everybody knows they’re a bunch of demons. They all wear glasses, so you don’t see their eyes.”
“Sure, kid.” Jake walked off.
“Zachery.” An older employee came to the register. “Are you trying to get fired?” To the bikers, he said, “Excuse his nonsense. We don’t do that stuff here.”
“Thanks.” Dylan nodded, happy for the out. He didn’t believe it any more than Jake did.
“I’m interested,” Sonny picked up the rear, looking at his phone. He sent them the link.
Eyeballing one another, Dylan and Jake resigned themselves to a five-minute witch-hunt. At least, it will give them something fresh to talk about until they got to Rain.
At their bikes, Sonny read, Dylan skimmed, and Jake tried not to think about it.
The webpage was hosted by the Save-A-Soul Togetherness Church. The article entitled The Devil Lives in Rain was a collection of shady incidents and speculations. Strange illnesses, sudden disappearances, HAZMAT findings, lepers, and mummies, and rituals: it was all in there. The report read like religious sensationalism, however, the emphasis on the mystery touched something that made them read more. The residents didn’t talk. They were closed-off and aloof. Questions brought out fear and anger. And, to this day, no one will speak of or about Rain’s wealthiest residents, the Bishops. While most people in and around Southern Maryland knew and benefitted from the Bishop name—Ronald Bishop and his family were philanthropists—nobody knew anything significant about them or how they acquired their wealth. They kept to themselves and shut down investigations.
The article touched on the history of Rain. Once, a subdivision of a larger town that was destroyed in a fire years ago—hellfire, according to Church officials. There were very few animal sightings in or around the township, and no pets anywhere. Church witnesses testified this was due to demonic sacrifices and a general hatred of purity. The article went on to describe the unexplained and often gruesome deaths of town-folk and unsuspecting visitors who came during a blood moon cycle.
Worst of all were the pictures. Scaled, decayed flesh, broken, missing limbs, zombie-eyes with undead expressions. The town had been quarantined once or twice over the years. But, government investigations failed to supply answers.
That was all Dylan cared to read. To him, superstitions and Photoshop were a bad mix.
Chapter Three
“Good morning, Miss Nile.”
“Good morning, guys,” Nile greeted the pack of kids on their way to school. Shorts, jeans, skirts, sweaters and light jackets, it was Indian-Summer-guess-how-you-should-dress weather. Nile loved it. She loved seeing the kids, full of energy and attitude.
“Bake three hundred doughnuts for me today!” Michelle’s blond-brown curls bounced up and down as she waved.
“Three hundred?” Mackey said. “I want her to bake a million!”
“If I did that, I’d get yelled at for giving you a sugar high.” She laughed with them. “That’s the last thing you need, Mackey.”
Mackey was her favorite. The kid was into everything. He was tall for a twelve-year-old. All arms and legs, and easily the most adventurous and sometimes mischievous kid in Rain. As long as he was respectful, safe, and didn’t cause any harm, nobody stopped him. In Rain, children were royalty. All of them. But, Mackey was her cousin. He was a king.
“Save me a sticky bun!” he called out as they moved down the street.
She gave him a thumbs up and headed into the bakery...her bakery... her family’s business.
“Two!” he yelled.
“That boy.” She walked in, smiling.
The pre-work rush was over, but the place was still packed. Besides being the only bakery in Rain, Bishop’s Café-Bakery was the place people liked to hang out, meet, greet, and collect town news. Rain had less than two hundred residents. Most of them collected here at some point or another throughout the day.
She waved to customers and nodded to servers on her way behind the counter where she grabbed a small bag.
“You turned him into a monster,” Tigris said. She pulled a tray of blueberry muffins from the cooling rack and slid them into the display.
“Yep, he’s my monster.” Nile searched the rack until she found the sticky buns. She wrapped two and tossed them into the bag. “And don’t you forget it.” She sat the prize on an out-of-the-way shelf. Her hair was natural and hung free in soft thick spirals. She piled it into a ponytail, slipped it through a topless visor, donned a matching apron, and keyed her passcode into the register.
“Like he’d let us,” Oprah, the pantry chef, talked from behind the deli counter. She was a robust woman whose energy made up for her lack of height: four-eleven in flats. She acquired the highly coveted position nineteen years before as a temporary post when Miss Keisha was ready to give birth to Nile. The Bishops liked her work so much, they lowered the deli counter six inches and made the position permanent. Oprah had the honor of being the only Caucasian to work in the Bishop family Café.
In a corner booth, near the front window, Maya nibbled on her second cherry turnover. Her tablet was asleep—the story she started, forgotten. She stared at the Rain Street/Bishop Avenue intersection. The only way in and out of town was through that intersection. Ronald and Keisha Bishop agreed to hear her case. Everyone in Rain worked for the Bishops in some form or another. But her family had worked in their household since 1954 when the town began. Her family carried favor and had a lot of prestige. Maya worried she’d be the one to ruin it.
Her dad, Sidney, had the same fear. The Bishops were generous with their household employees. The Harrison children were permitted to attend the college of their choice and they were given the opportunity to live away from Rain if they wanted—provided they meet the qualifications. Maya had not. She couldn’t leave Rain without the Bishops’ assistance. Asking for special accommodations was never a good idea. The repercussions her family could face were horrific. But, here she was. All because she was dumb enough to fall in love with an outsider. “Damn you, Jake,” she whispered to herself.