She was too afraid to sleep -- she dared not. Thus it was with horror that she realized she had dozed again. The rustle of tiny feet on the paper near her face and a light brush of air or fur against her cheek -- Louise screamed, flailed her arms, flopped her splinted leg. Pain shot up her back and exploded in her head. Even her eyes hurt from the jolt to her broken jaw. Her leg pulsed with a pain she couldn't bear. How could she stand this agony? She had to – if she fainted the rats would eat her. In her entire life she'd never known a fear as overwhelming as this – beyond fear – terror!

The unrelenting pain was exacerbated by the tremors that accompanied her terror. She was powerless to stop shaking. Louise's mind sought refuge from the facts that surrounded her. Rachel! How long had she been gone? Was she on her way back with help even now? The steady drip of rain had ceased, but the wind whistled through the holes in the old house. Somewhere a board, a shingle or a shutter, slapped in the wind. Had the rain turned to snow? Hope surged and ebbed as Louise remembered the weakened state in which her niece had left. Rachel was strong and determined, but she could be blinded by snow, lying dead or dying. If Rachel didn't make it, there was no hope. Louise had no more tears, only terror. Sustained hope didn't exist; there was only the facts: she was going to die a slow painful death alone, the only witnesses rats and skunks.

"Oh, God, help me!" her wail ended in a dry sob. Did He hear her? Did He even exist? And if He did, did He care as Rachel said or was it all a lie? Louise didn't know what she believed, but she had to take the chance. What was it Rachel said about God not giving us fear, but power and something and a sound mind? She'd thought that strange at the time, but the soundness of her mind was in jeopardy right now! And Pastor Miller had told them Sunday something about God caring about sparrows and people being so much more important that He knew every hair on a person's head. Okay, maybe He knew all this stuff and maybe He cared, but could He or would He do anything about it? Luella had been a faithful believer and she ended up dead before she hit fifty. Look how Rachel has suffered. But how worse could it get? What did she have to lose? Either He'd help or not, she might as well give Him a try.

Louise closed her eyes and held her palms together, "God, I'm not sure you're there. I'm not sure you remember me. I'm not sure about a lot of things, but I know Rachel thinks you care about her and me, too, though I don't know why. Anyway, here's the deal, I've done a lot of things wrong in my life. I figure I've paid for most of them, too. But Rachel hasn't hurt a flea. If you care about her at all, I'm asking you to take care of her right now. Feed her, warm her, protect her and help her find someone to come and get me out of this hole and I'll do anything you want me to do. I'll quit cussing and drinking and smoking and men. I'll give it all up if you'll just get me out of this mess. I don't know how I'm going to do it, but I really will, God. If you really exist, you might have to help me do it even, but I really will try. I know I don't deserve this chance, but Rachel does. If not for me, God, do it for her. Amen."

One part of her mind knew she was hallucinating as another part eagerly accepted the warmth and peace that seemed to envelope her. She was so comfortable in that hallucination she didn't want to leave, she didn't want sanity. If she was to die, she wanted to die in this peaceful state. She clung to it desperately, but the feeling ebbed away leaving a residue glow of peace. The rational part of her mind recognized it as--faith.

As loudly as she could Louise began to sing through the repertoire of hymns she remembered from her childhood. Some of them were joyful songs and she sang them with as much gusto as her sore vocal cords and weakened state could afford, surprised at herself and the joyful peace she found in the words and the memories they evoked.

Another sound. A siren? Yes, and coming closer! Were they coming for her? "Please, God."

contact the author