Mercury Shrugs Read Free

will is an illusion.
    Emily Jelonek turned off the engine and they climbed out of the car. Lucas and his father stood for a moment yawning and stretching in the cold desert air. There didn’t seem to be anyone else around.
    “Should we get the—” Justin Jelonek started, gesturing toward the lawn chairs and other supplies they had packed in the back of the Caravan.
    “We don’t have time!” Emily snapped. “It could be starting!” She aimed the small flashlight from her keychain on the ground in front of her and hurried off through the sea of cars. Lucas and his father scurried after her, afraid of being left alone in the dark.
    The cars were parked some six rows deep. Just beyond them the driveway was blocked by a gate that had been chained shut. A sign on it read:
     
    MENTZEL RANCH
    TRESPASSERS WILL BE SHOT
     
    Lucas’s mother squeezed through the gate opening, stepping over the chain, and his father followed.
    “So we’re just going to, like, ignore the sign?” asked Lucas, pausing in front of the gate. He strongly doubted whether anyone cared enough about this remote parcel of scrub land to waste bullets defending it; his objection was prompted mostly by a desire to irritate his mother.
    “Move it, Lucas!” his mother snapped, briefly shining the little flashlight in his eyes before turning and continuing on her way. Momentarily blinded, Lucas scowled and felt his way through the gap. He jogged to catch up to his parents, who seemed more than willing to leave him behind if it came down to it. He’d never seen his mother so worked up.
    As they made their way up the low hill beyond the gate, Lucas wondered what it was that his mother thought she was missing exactly. Was she just worried about committing a faux pas, walking in late during Reverend Jonas’s presentation? Or did she really believe that Jesus Himself was going to descend from the clouds and call His followers home? He tried to picture the logistics of this scenario. In his research, he’d run across a painting of Jacob’s Ladder with angels traversing it, some going up and some going down. Judging by the number of cars he had seen, it would take hours to get all the attendees up a stairway like that, even if Heaven was located at a relatively low altitude. So if that’s what she was hoping for, there was no hurry—unless they were only admitting a limited number of people, which seemed pretty un-Jesus-y to Lucas.
    The skies were clear, though: no sign of any sort of staircase, elevator, spaceship, or any other mode of transportation that might facilitate the ascension of the faithful. Cynical as he was, some part of Lucas had hoped he would see something, that it wasn’t all just bullshit. But of course it was. If there was one thing Lucas had learned in his fourteen years on planet Earth, it was that everything was bullshit.
    They crested the hill and Lucas found himself looking down on a massive throng of people, several thousand at least, arranged in a rough circle around a low, flat plateau about thirty feet in diameter, which served as makeshift stage. Standing near the edge of the plateau nearest to Lucas was a man whose arms were raised over his head. Ringing the plateau were a dozen electric lanterns on poles, showering the assembly with a garish blue-white light. The man was speaking in assured, comforting tones, although Lucas couldn’t make out what he was saying from this distance. Reverend Jonas Bitters, he thought. Lucas had to admit he was impressed. It took balls to pull off something like this, fleecing a bunch of dipshits into following you into the middle of nowhere, employing nothing but charisma and an empty promise.
    “Hurry!” his mother called, as he lagged behind, taking in the scene. After a moment, Lucas ran after his parents. He had nearly caught up to them when suddenly they both stopped in their tracks. As they were still a good fifty feet from the edge of the crowd, Lucas was at first confused. But as he