using. To her left is Judy Perillo ,
who owns a successful motel next to Interstate 89. Next is Ed Townsend, a
retired FBI agent. Finally there is Shirley Carter, who owns Sutton’s one and
only beauty shop.
“Brother Foley, did you bring the ingredients?” asked the
Reverend.
Not wanting to challenge the obvious question, he answers,
“Yes, yes, I brought everything.”
“Good.”
With that the conference door opens slowly and standing in
its open space is young Sammy Porter. He is quiet and obviously nervous. His
eyes dart about the room. He recognizes everyone in the room. He is wearing a
clean white short sleeve dress shirt, clean pressed slacks. His hair is combed
straight back. He is nudged into the room from behind. Following him into the
room is Walter Yandow . Walter ushers him to the lone
seat at the opposite end of the conference table. Walter then moves to the last
empty chair and sits down. Sammy, not sure what to do with his hands, places
them onto the table and mimics the pose of the Reverend. The Reverend looks at
Sammy from across the table and breaks into a small smile.
“Welcome to our humble gathering, Mr. Porter,” said the
Reverend Mitchell.
“Uh, thank you, sir.”
“We are in your debt this day, Mr. Porter. Indeed, HE is in
your debt as well. HE is most grateful and desires to reward you for your
faithfulness. Are you prepared to accept HIS most generous gift?”
Sammy had been coached on the way over to this meeting of
what was about to take place and what to say by his escort, Walter.
“Yes, Reverend, I am prepared to accept His gift and to take
my place among His faithful.” He managed a sideways glance in the direction of
Walter, who was revealing a slight smile.
“Very well. Before we proceed, will Judge Fairchild
administer the oath?”
Judge Fairchild, an old man who wore his reading glasses at
all times, while looking over them most of the time, pushed himself back from
the conference table. He was wheezing as he stood up. His allergies had been
bothering him. He was carrying a large book, which was black leather bound and
resembled a large ledger book that an accountant might use. Its cover was
embossed in gold leaf with the shape of a pentagram.
At the very sight of the book, Sammy’s heart began racing
even more rapidly than it had already. He had only heard about the book from
others in whispered conversations. Sammy stood up.
The Judge held the book in front of Sammy and then he reached
down and took Sammy’s left hand with his own right hand and placed it on the
book. The Judge’s hand was cold to the touch.
“Repeat after me, Mr. Porter.”
“Yes, sir!”
“I pledge my life on this earth, my soul for all eternity, to
faithfully protect and serve.”
Sammy Porter repeated the oath, beaming with pride.
“I renounce the faiths of mankind, the words of the prophets,
and I reject the works of the Son of God.”
Sammy spoke in a firm voice, without hesitation.
“Be seated,” said the Judge.
The boy did as he was told.
The Reverend now stood up before the group. He opened his
arms as he spoke.
“Seated in this room, Mr. Porter, are the chosen Keepers of
HIS word. We are all descendants of the original coven, hand picked for the
important task of being the assembled ones, to serve our leader, the Monarch of
Hell, in this life and for all eternity. Our ancestors once agreed to serve as
we now serve. A sacred final covenant had been reached to bring HIM to this
side, to once again walk the earth in human form. As you have been taught, Mr.
Porter, that covenant was broken by an unfaithful one. We carry forward a
sacred tradition that one day it will be fulfilled as it is written in the Book
of Final Covenant, to which you have just laid your hand in a solemn pledge.”
As the Reverend spoke, each one in the room sat straight
backed in their chairs as if they were hearing these words for the first time.
“Mr. Porter, you have been chosen not by us but
who owns a successful motel next to Interstate 89. Next is Ed Townsend, a
retired FBI agent. Finally there is Shirley Carter, who owns Sutton’s one and
only beauty shop.
“Brother Foley, did you bring the ingredients?” asked the
Reverend.
Not wanting to challenge the obvious question, he answers,
“Yes, yes, I brought everything.”
“Good.”
With that the conference door opens slowly and standing in
its open space is young Sammy Porter. He is quiet and obviously nervous. His
eyes dart about the room. He recognizes everyone in the room. He is wearing a
clean white short sleeve dress shirt, clean pressed slacks. His hair is combed
straight back. He is nudged into the room from behind. Following him into the
room is Walter Yandow . Walter ushers him to the lone
seat at the opposite end of the conference table. Walter then moves to the last
empty chair and sits down. Sammy, not sure what to do with his hands, places
them onto the table and mimics the pose of the Reverend. The Reverend looks at
Sammy from across the table and breaks into a small smile.
“Welcome to our humble gathering, Mr. Porter,” said the
Reverend Mitchell.
“Uh, thank you, sir.”
“We are in your debt this day, Mr. Porter. Indeed, HE is in
your debt as well. HE is most grateful and desires to reward you for your
faithfulness. Are you prepared to accept HIS most generous gift?”
Sammy had been coached on the way over to this meeting of
what was about to take place and what to say by his escort, Walter.
“Yes, Reverend, I am prepared to accept His gift and to take
my place among His faithful.” He managed a sideways glance in the direction of
Walter, who was revealing a slight smile.
“Very well. Before we proceed, will Judge Fairchild
administer the oath?”
Judge Fairchild, an old man who wore his reading glasses at
all times, while looking over them most of the time, pushed himself back from
the conference table. He was wheezing as he stood up. His allergies had been
bothering him. He was carrying a large book, which was black leather bound and
resembled a large ledger book that an accountant might use. Its cover was
embossed in gold leaf with the shape of a pentagram.
At the very sight of the book, Sammy’s heart began racing
even more rapidly than it had already. He had only heard about the book from
others in whispered conversations. Sammy stood up.
The Judge held the book in front of Sammy and then he reached
down and took Sammy’s left hand with his own right hand and placed it on the
book. The Judge’s hand was cold to the touch.
“Repeat after me, Mr. Porter.”
“Yes, sir!”
“I pledge my life on this earth, my soul for all eternity, to
faithfully protect and serve.”
Sammy Porter repeated the oath, beaming with pride.
“I renounce the faiths of mankind, the words of the prophets,
and I reject the works of the Son of God.”
Sammy spoke in a firm voice, without hesitation.
“Be seated,” said the Judge.
The boy did as he was told.
The Reverend now stood up before the group. He opened his
arms as he spoke.
“Seated in this room, Mr. Porter, are the chosen Keepers of
HIS word. We are all descendants of the original coven, hand picked for the
important task of being the assembled ones, to serve our leader, the Monarch of
Hell, in this life and for all eternity. Our ancestors once agreed to serve as
we now serve. A sacred final covenant had been reached to bring HIM to this
side, to once again walk the earth in human form. As you have been taught, Mr.
Porter, that covenant was broken by an unfaithful one. We carry forward a
sacred tradition that one day it will be fulfilled as it is written in the Book
of Final Covenant, to which you have just laid your hand in a solemn pledge.”
As the Reverend spoke, each one in the room sat straight
backed in their chairs as if they were hearing these words for the first time.
“Mr. Porter, you have been chosen not by us but
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