Easy Prey

wail. . . .
    And when the wail died, Olson was smiling.
    “But we’re gonna be okay, because we’re the children of the Lord.”
    And that, Lucas thought, was it for the night. Olson, in an almost businesslike way, began talking about Amnon Plain. “A biblical name, Amnon. And Plain, that’s important. As soon as I heard the name, I thought this was a message; as soon as I heard of his murder, I was sure of it. I’ve spoken in this church about my admiration for the Plain people, our brothers the Amish and the Mennonites, and although our beliefs may be different, in that thing, in the belief in the Plain, we agree. The Plain will save you. You have seen some people here in blue vests; those are handmade blue vests, they all made them themselves. If you accept the Plain, make yourself a vest. Put it on. Then kill your TV. Kill your Internet connection. Turn away from the magazines that overflow with the Evil.”
    Suddenly they were back in it, but this time it was different, humping along in an almost orgasmic frenzy built around the word Plain, and the evocation of the death of Amnon Plain, and the clear message to God’s children.
    As the frenzy built, Jael’s fingers dug into Lucas’s leg, dug in and held, and as Olson talked, the lights in the church continued to dim until it was nearly dark inside, with the only light around Olson at the front as he preached. He was tying himself in a knot, Lucas thought; his body was shaking with the violence of his words. People began to stand up and cry out—then the entire congregation was on its feet, and the wailing began again. . . .
    And Olson, in the light, reached a new climax, dropped to his knees in an agony and threw up his hands, palms to the audience. Blood ran from wounds in his palms down his forearms, and the wailing became so intense that Lucas could hardly bear it.
    Then Olson collapsed, and the wailing stopped as though a switch had been thrown, and the people of the audience looked at each other in stunned appreciation. A man from one of the front rows went to kneel beside Olson, and then another, and between them they got him back on his feet and led him to the side of the room, and then out of sight.
    The thin man who’d been collecting money outside stepped into the light at the front of the church and said into the now-hushed room, “Reverend Olson will be back in a moment. For those of you who are new to the church, or our community, and are interested in Reverend Olson’s concept of Plain, I would like to say a few words.
    “There is no church of Plain. No money is collected, there is no organization. If you feel that you can be Plain, and you wish to be Plain, then make a vest. Or don’t make a vest, if you don’t wish to. Some of us find it easier to make the vest, as a reminder of what we are about. But I don’t want any of you women making vests for your men. They should make their own, and if it doesn’t come out just right . . . then show them how, but let them do the work. The vest won’t save you, it’s just a piece of cloth. But you’ll find that it keeps you very, very warm. . . . On the back of your song sheet, we’ve included a little sketch, a little pattern, for making your vest.”
    There was a rustle of paper as people looked, and the man said, “If you’d like to sing, you’re welcome to. If anyone is a bit too warm, you’re welcome to step outside for a bit. So why don’t we start with, ‘You Are My Sunshine, ’ and all of you singers make room for those who need to get out for a breath.”
    A number of people started moving toward the back, and Lucas grabbed Jael’s arm and they stepped over the last couple at the end of the pew, into the aisle, and out into the churchyard. “I’d say we got our money’s worth,” Jael said, looking back at the church. The first chorus of “You Are My Sunshine” broke through the doors.
    Lucas was looking at the paper in his hand. “None of these songs are religious songs,” he said. “They’re all, like, old-timey sing-along songs.”
    “You want to go back and sing?” Jael asked.
    “No. I’ve had about enough,” Lucas said.
    “So have I. When he started talking about Plain, that was like being electrocuted.” They walked back to the car, climbed in. And she said, “I know this is going to sound like the Hollywood bullshit Olson’s trying to get away from, but . . . he’s good. He’s really good at it. Something about the way he looks, like a big