Read Online Sanctuary by Gary D. Svee - Free Book Online

when the end of the world has come.
    â€œBut God will reject them, just as I reject this sinner. There is no room for you among believers,” the Reverend shouted, shaking Judd by the shoulders. “You are a sinner and the wages of sin is death!…”
    Judd knew his fate if he were to be caught in Sanctuary without the preacher.
    The back door of the print shop scuffed open, and Mordecai stepped through the door, framed for a moment by the unpainted wood.
    â€œKnow where the school is, Judd?”
    Judd nodded, his eyes probing the alley for ears that might hear the preacher speaking.
    â€œYou hold a lot of store in being able to move around without being noticed, don’t you, Judd?”
    Judd looked at the preacher from the corner of his eye.
    â€œNo trick in being invisible, boy.” The preacher put his hand on Judd’s shoulder, the first time Judd remembered being touched by another person except in anger.
    Judd walked stiffly along the alley, aware of nothing but the hand on his shoulder, uncomfortable. But by the time the two reached the end of the alley, Judd felt more at ease.
    Judd hesitated before walking into the street, pulling back against the pressure of the preacher’s hand.
    â€œDon’t worry, boy. Nobody can see us. We can walk across this street slick as can be as long as we’re quiet. You know how to be quiet, don’t you, boy?”
    Judd nodded. He knew about being invisible. He knew, too, that it flickered like a candle on a windy night. Sometimes when he most wanted to be invisible—like that time at the revival tent—it didn’t work. He didn’t want to step into this street now and be paid the wages of sin.
    But the pressure on his shoulder was firm, and he couldn’t resist, so he stepped into the street, his only sound the protest of the dust beneath his feet.
    There were a few rigs on the street and some people, but only a horse seemed to notice the two as they crossed. The off-horse on a team pulling a wagonload of cream to the creamery rolled his eyes as he passed and snorted. Muttered curses spouted from the driver, as gray and round as the cans behind. The driver discussed the horse’s heritage and future and was still muttering as the rig pulled out of hearing up the street.
    When they had reached the darkness and safety of the alley beyond, the preacher whispered.
    â€œElder in the Reverend Eli’s congregation. The good folk of the Church of Righteousness would be surprised that those words crossed his lips. He’s mighty careful that no one hears him when he’s carrying on like that.”
    The backs of businesses along Main Street butted against the south side of the alley, but the north half of the block was made up of long, narrow residential lots. Grass and trees in front of most of the homes faded to clotheslines and doghouses and piles of gray, rotting boards in the back. Yet some of the yards were neat, shovels stuck blade deep in gardens almost a month away from seed.
    â€œYou can tell more about a person by his backyard than his front,” the preacher whispered.
    â€œQuiet, now.”
    A woman on the long side of sixty slumped in a chair beside a low table that held her washtub and rinse water, sheets snapping on the clothesline in the fresh spring air.
    Occasionally her breath would rasp through her adenoids, and jerked awake by the sound, she would stare again at the mountain of wash that she was expected to do.
    The woman’s chair—back to the alley—was within reaching distance from the fence for a tall man, and the preacher stopped behind the woman, picked up a feather lying in the alley, and drew it lightly across the nape of her neck. She started a bit, her hand moving reflexively to the itch.
    The preacher waited a moment and then ran the feather again across the woman’s neck. She jerked, hunched up her shoulders, and turned her neck, rubbing it against the muscles of her