07 July 04

"I can't believe you're still a Caudill supporter," Mr. Gretch said to his wife. He plumped himself down in the lounger, arms folded, and glared at the television.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Mrs. Gretch said. She gestured toward the television, toward the illuminated and magnified face of President Caudill. He was smiling. "I supported him in his first run for office. Nothing has changed."

"Nothing has changed? He announced on national TV that he was the Antichrist!"

"Oh, that." She made a dismissive sort of "pffflph" noise that flapped her lips together. "People don't understand what that means, really. They were talking about it at church. The Antichrist is necessary for the world to end and for Jesus to come."

"So?"

"So he's a part of the plan."

"They tell you that at church, do they?" muttered Mr. Gretch, who did not share his wife's enthusiasm for church. "So they're for this Armaggedon business then?"

Mrs. Gretch had the uncomfortable look of a child called upon in class to explain what she has learned about the metric system.

"Not exactly a good thing, in and of itself, you see -- it's more complicated than that. It's for the greater good."

"The greater good," Mr. Gretch said. He sounded unconvinced.

"Yes, that's it exactly," said Mrs. Gretch. She clutched one of the lace crochet pillows to her chest and studied the television for a moment, then used the remote control to turn the sound up.

"...we will come through this time of tribulation more united..." said the buzzing broadcast voice of President Caudill.

Mr. Gretch lurched out of the recliner and began poking frantically at the television buttons until he found the off switch.

"What'd you do that for?" said Mrs. Gretch peevishly.

"I should think by now the answer to that would be obvious," said Mr. Gretch, with a sigh. "No, look, I want to talk about this. When Caudill sacrificed that baby on Labor Day, your church still supported him -- because it was all part of some greater good?"

"Well," she said, "It wasn't as if the baby was unborn, now, was it? An unborn baby is innocent, but once they're born you can tell if they have an evil soul, or a good one." Mrs. Gretch frowned, and fell silent for a moment.

Mr. Gretch prompted, "So you're saying that somehow Caudill knew that this baby had an, an 'evil soul'?"

"It's in the Bible."

"In the Bible?" Mr. Gretch was incredulous, but, allowed that his wife's familiarity with the Bible was greater than his own.

"'When God called upon Abraham to lay his only and most beloved son Isaac upon the sacrificial alter, God tested the soul of Isaac and found it pure and called off the sacrifice, but now I say unto you, how much greater must our sacrifice be in these last days to find favor in the eyes of the Lord. Genesis chapter 22 verses two through 14.'"

Mr. Gretch, ever suspicious picked up a copy of the Bible and flipped to Genesis chapter 22.

"It doesn't say that here," he said. "About the last days. And anyway, God told him not to do it at the last minute, look. He killed a goat instead. Or maybe a sheep, I don't know, just look!"

He held out the book, pages crinkling, but Mrs. Gretch shook her head.

"It's not in that version, silly. That's an old translation. Anyway, you know it didn't suffer. Slit its throat and all the crying stopped just like that..." Her gaze went blank, mesmerized for a moment. Then she came back, cheerful and determined. "So, you see, it's all going to work out."

"Work out how?" Mr. Gretch grumbled. "Because my impression is that the point of this whole thing, is that it works out with the end of the world."

"Well, yes. Of course. It'll be glorious."

Mr. Gretch looked at her incredulously. "It'll be the end of the world."

"And that will be glorious," she said, patiently. "When Jesus comes again."

Mr. Gretch stood up, abruptly, legs planted widely apart. "Jesus isn't coming, you stupid goat," he declared, and stomped off to the bathroom, leaving her to ponder what he might have meant. Jesus wasn't coming at all? Or wasn't coming for her?

She turned the television back on.

"You know what to do," President Caudill said to her. He addressed her directly, with his dark eyes and penetrating gaze, which Mr. Gretch couldn't see at all; Mr. Gretch said that President Caudill looked and sounded like a cross between a weasel and a monkey. But Mrs. Gretch saw it all so clearly, and heard that special soothing voice meant just for her, just for the chosen, those who were selected to bring about the glorious second coming. Those who were selected to clear the way. Remove obstacles. Punish unbelievers.

"Yes, lord," she said, and went to the kitchen to pick up the large cast-iron skillet, and then to stand in the hallway outside the bathroom, waiting for Mr. Gretch to emerge.