Josiah climbed out of the car. He had been feeling nervous about just sitting in a stolen vehicle. He needed to stretch his legs, anyway. He strolled around the hospital parking lot for a while enjoying the sunshine, the smell of spring, and his freedom. But something was nagging at him. He wanted to see Sarrah, to apologize in person. But he knew that would be a violation of some sort. He thought about sneaking in and maybe just catching a peek at her. But what about Paul? He’d be swooning over her. And he’d be angry with him, perhaps even send him back to the jailhouse.
Josiah made his way into the hospital’s main entrance and looked around. A woman behind a counter called out to his puzzlement, “Is there something I can help you with?”
Josiah approached. “I want to see my wife,” he said.
“What’s her name?”
“Sarrah Peppercorn.”
The woman’s eyes darted back and forth across a computer screen as she tapped the keyboard. “Fifth floor. You need to check-in at the nurse’s station, though.”
“Fifth floor. Thanks.”
Josiah went to the elevator and went up to FIVE. The doors slid open. He looked up and down the hall. People were mingling in whispers and tears. This must be the floor where people come to die, he thought. It smelled funny, like sickness and sterility.
“Sir? Is there something you are looking for?”
Everyone’s watching me, he thought. He approached the nurse’s station. “My wife, Sarrah Peppercorn?”
She pointed. “Room 13.”
“Thank you.”
Josiah moved down the hallway until he found room 13. He peered in carefully. He saw a woman in a bed, motionless with machines making soft noises around her. Paul was nowhere to be seen. He went in and quietly closed the door. Josiah went to her bedside and looked down at his wife. What used to be his wife, he thought. Her face was half bandaged, the other half swollen, bruised. “Oh, my god,” Josiah softly said. “I did that?”
She moved her head and noticed him there. One eye was visible. She tried to smile. She spoke out a dry mouth. “It was the rabbit,” Sarrah managed to say.
Josiah reached out to hold her hand. “The rabbit?”
“I was attacked by a giant, cerulean-blue rabbit man.”
Josiah thought that she must be delirious. “Well, the rabbit man is gone now, and I’m here with you.”
“How was jail?” Sarrah snarked.
“It was horrible,” he answered. “Sarrah. I don’t have much time,” Josiah began. “I’m not really supposed to be in here. But I just wanted to let you know that I’m trying to turn over a new leaf. I’m constructing a new man from the inside out. And I’m sorry for what I’ve done to you. I’m sorry for who I’ve been. I hope you can forgive me and maybe even possibly take me back as your husband.”
She looked at him and smacked her mouth. “Water.”
He took the yellow plastic cup from the bedside table and held it to her lips. She drank. He kissed her softly on the head. “I love you,” he said.
She blinked at him but did not reply.
“I have to go now,” Josiah said. “But has Paul been by to see you?”
“Paul? Not that I know of.”
Josiah half-smiled at her. “I’ll see you around,” he said, and then he quietly went out of the room.
As Josiah walked across the parking lot and back to the stolen car, he could see that someone was in the driver’s seat. Paul must have changed his mind about seeing Sarrah, he thought. That was good. But as Josiah got closer to the car, he realized the body in the front seat was much larger than Paul. The passenger door swung open. Something reached out and easily snatched Josiah and pulled him into the car. There was a strange smell. Animalistic.
“Put on your seatbelt,” the thing said.
Josiah was stunned. “Who the hell are you? What the hell are you?” he asked, clawing at the window in fear.
“Quiet!” the thing said in a low drawn-out voice.
The cerulean rabbit started the car, put it into gear, and drove away. Josiah was screaming, but there was no sound for anyone to hear.
Serena wiggled her nose like a witch, and somehow the ropes loosened, and they were able to slip free.
“How did you do that?” the reverend wanted to know.
“It suddenly came to me, like a whisper. It must have been your prayer,” Serena said excitedly. “He listened to you after all and then spoke to me. Me.”
The padre shot a look at the sky and wondered. The stars blinked back. Then he looked down at the ground. It was so dark save for a glint of moonlight crawling along. “We’ll have to be extremely careful coming down from this tree,” he said. “I’ll go first, and you follow right after me. I’ll be here to stop you if you start to fall.”
“I’m not afraid,” Serena said.
Once they got their feet back on solid ground, they scanned the area for any sign of the rabbit creature. Serena sniffed the air. “I don’t smell him anymore.”
“He must have gone off somewhere,” the reverend said. “Are you scared?”
“Not anymore,” Serena said. “I feel strangely at peace. I think it’s because God chose to speak to me. Me... Are you scared?”
“No. But something mysterious is surely afoot,” he said. “And you, young lady, may be a prophet.”
“A prophet! I would love to be a prophet. It would be so much better than just being an old plain Jane.”
The reverend laughed. “You’re not so plain.”
“Thanks… Are you ready to carry on?”
“Yes. Let us carry on.”
Their quick pace slowed halfway. It was peaceful and calm in the middle of the meadow. The sky was open there and the moon brighter. The far mountains were colored blueberry. Reverend Savior bent over, put his hands on his knees and spat at the ground. His breathing was ferocious.
“Are you okay?” Serena asked. “You sound horrible.”
“I’m fine… I just need to catch my breath.”
Serena twirled beneath the stars. “It’s wonderful to be a prophet,” she said. “Thank you, God, for choosing me.”
The reverend straightened and looked at her.
“Just remember, being a prophet is serious business.”
She smiled at him. “It can’t be all serious,” she said. “I’m sure prophets enjoy things in life, too.”
The reverend chuckled. “Maybe you’re right… I think I’m ready to keep going now,” he said, and together they made their way back toward the black scrape of paint on the horizon that was the farmhouse, a place that must be home for someone.
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