She'd listened to him rummaging around in the house all day. On occasion, he'd sing hymns, one of which she knew from sitting on her grandmother's lap in a small pew in a rural Baptist church. She was pretty sure it was called "How Great Thou Art." Each time he hummed it she felt a fresh wave of nausea and fear, knowing what he had done to her-and what he would do.
As she'd listened to his singing and movements, she'd tried to get to her feet again. If she'd had on clothes, it would have been easier. She'd managed to roll to the far wall, place her back against it, and slowly lift herself up. Even then, though, her calves started to stretch and burn due to her ankles being so tightly tied together. Because she had worked up such a sweat by that point, her back would slip against the wall and she'd slip right back to the ground on her backside.
Now, wrists bleeding from the abrasions the ropes had etched into her skin, she backed up against the wall again. Her legs felt like putty and the scratches she'd gotten along her back stung like bee stings. Whimpering, she tried again, pushing against the wall while she pushed herself up by her feet. When she reached the point where her ankles and calves started to burn, she simply forced herself through the pain and extended her legs.
As she stood up fully, her legs wobbled and she almost fell right away. But she pressed against the wall and managed to keep her balance.
Okay, now what?
She didn't know. She was just relieved to finally be on her feet. She figured if she could get through the doorway a few feet to her right, she might be able to find a phone and call the police. She'd heard him open the door and close it all day. She supposed he was going outside for small periods of time and coming back in. If she could get just a glimpse of what was going on elsewhere in the house, maybe she could get out of this alive.
She slunk against the wall and made it to the doorway. Her skin broke out into goose bumps as sweat coated her body. She felt her body trembling and she wanted to cry, to sink back to the floor. She scanned the room, looking for any sharp instrument with which she could sever her wrist ties.
But there was none.
She felt like giving up. This was too much, she though, too hard.
With her back to the door, she fumbled for the doorknob. When she had it in her hands, she turned it slowly. There was a slight click as the tumbler removed itself from the doorframe.
She stepped away from the door, letting it slowly swing open. She could feel the fresh air from the other side of the door and she wondered if anything had ever felt so good in her life.
She turned around slowly, trying to move as quietly as she could. She'd find a phone to call someone, or an open window. Sure, her hands and legs were tied up but she'd risk a fall just to get out of here.
But when she fully turned, facing the doorway, he was standing there.
Her scream was blocked by the cloth gag over her mouth. He smiled at her and stepped into the room. He placed a hand on her bare shoulder and caressed her there. Then, with his smile widening, he shoved her. She went sprawling to the ground and when she did, her shoulder bounced awkwardly. She screamed again and it turned into a deep sob.
"You'll be free soon enough," he told her.
He got down on his knees and again placed a hand on her shoulder, as if for reassurance.
"We'll both be free, and it will be glorious."
He left the room and when he closed it, she could hear an additional clicking noise as he set the lock. She wept, feeling like she might suffocate because of the gag. And all the while, he moved around downstairs, singing hymns to the same God that she found herself desperately praying to on his dusty floor.
*
He did not like working under pressure. He also did not like change, especially when things had been so carefully planned and thought out. Yet here he was, having to alter his plans halfway through his work. There were three more cities to raise, three more sacrifices. One was propped and ready to go but he still had no idea how he would carry out the other two.
For now, he had to take it one step at a time. For now, the fourth city was all he was concerned about.
He thought he'd adjusted well in light of recent events. It had been the work of God that he had driven by the planned site of the fourth city just in time to see the police presence. The men of the world were on to him and would do whatever they could to stop his work. But God, sovereign and all-knowing, was protecting him. He had prayed then, and God had told him that it was the work that mattered, not the location of the sacrifice.
He had adjusted accordingly. And he had done well, as far as he was concerned.
For instance, the woman was no longer in the upstairs room, the place he had left her in an hour before. Now, she was in the shed. She was in the fetal position, her arms pulled behind her and her knees drawn up. Her ankles and wrists were bound together, the rope given some slack so she would not accidentally pop her shoulder out of its socket. She had to be unblemished when he put her upon the pole. God would not accept sacrifices with flaws.
He studied her for a moment as he stood against the pole that he had just finished erecting in the shed. This woman was quite pretty, prettier than the others for sure. Her driver's license placed her age at nineteen, and he read she was originally from Los Angeles. He did not know why the woman had come here, but he knew that God had placed her in his path. The girl did not know it, but she should feel honored. She did not realize that she had been selected even before she was born to be sacrificed for the glory of God.
He never bothered trying to explain this to the women. They would not listen.
He had stripped this one completely naked. He'd left the bra and underwear on the others because he did not want to risk temptation. But this one had been such a perfect sacrifice that he could not help himself. He had never seen breasts so perfect, not even in movies or magazines.
He knew he must be punished for looking at her flesh in such a way. He'd be sure to repent of that sin, to hurt himself many times tonight.
After setting up the pole, he'd gone to the hardware store and purchased a roll of plastic covering. He'd spent half an hour covering the floor of the shed with it, using staples rather than nails, as they would be easier to remove later on. Setting up the pole in the shed and then covering the floor with the sheets of plastic had been laborious work, but it had been good for him. In a way, it had made him more appreciative of the sacrifice to come. Working this hard to make way for a sacrifice made him feel more worthy.
He stopped and took a deep breath, admiring his handiwork.
It was almost time now.
He had to pray first and then he would string the woman up. He'd have to tighten the gag because he had never given a sacrifice in such a populated area. One slip and a neighbor would hear her screams as the whip came down. But he would worry about that after she was tied to the pole.
First, prayer and repentance. He needed to pray that his cities-his sacrifices-would be pleasing to God and that his work would exemplify His glory and love for man.
He got to his knees in front of the pole. Before he closed his eyes to pray, he looked to the woman again. Quiet understanding seemed to spread across her face and seeing this, he went into prayer with a great sense of peace.
It was almost as if she knew that there was a great reward waiting for her afterwards, as if she knew she would receive that reward and be released from this world of filth before the hour was through.