The Resurrection and the Light: Part 2
The morning brought with it the first rain shower in weeks. Martha opened her eyes to a grey world, a howling wind ran through the small rural cottage; like the cries of a distant infant.
The first thing Martha did in the morning was pray, normally just a short recital, a request for a blessed day. She did the same today, only she didn't kneel beside her bed, but in the living room. She held Danny cold hand in her own and prayed for strength, for forgiveness.
With her prayer finished Martha scooped her son into her arms and walked out of the house. It was raining harder, and by the time she parked her car at the start of the woods it had become a downpour. Martha didn't feel the rain, nor the cold wind that bit into her flesh. She walked without fear of being seen, and with certain footfalls; the path through the woods was engrained into her mind. She and Danny had made the trek through the trees to the cliffs of Dunchurch more times that she cared to remember. It was there that she would lay her son to rest.
The walk took longer than Martha had expected, the rain slowing her considerably. There was only one possible spot for it, Martha had known the moment she received word of her role.
The cave was located at the base of the cliff, hidden away from view of both the beach and all but those with an intimate knowledge of the area. There was an old, overgrown footpath that lead down to the pebble beach floor. Martha had never seen it before, yet as she stood there, the body getting heaving in her tired arms, she saw it; the weeds seemed to part and show her the way. The cave was deeper than she had expected, they had never actually gone inside during their trips. Martha's arms ached and her ankle was beginning to swell from where she had almost fallen coming down the path. Yet she walked deep into the darkness, not wanting to leave her son anywhere in plain sight.
About 200 meters in the cave forked; each path was no more than a further 50 meters deep but Martha felt her way along and found a small crevice, a shelf carved into the soft rock. It was here that she placed Danny's body. The smell of the sea was not as strong in the back of the cave, the sea levels rarely getting high enough to flood it completely, but Martha still placed a number of rocks over the sheet weighting it in place, hiding the body from view.
With her job done Martha turned and left, her senses not confused by the darkness, but she made a mental note to bring a flashlight the next time. The rain had begun to lessen as Martha sat back in her car. It had taken her almost an hour to climb back up the slope, her ankle, swollen to twice its normal size gave out several times, and twice she had fallen.
Martha returned home, and cleaned up the house. She buried the sheets and broke up the wooden boarding; she would use it as fire wood in the winter.
Three Days Later…
The rain had been constant, the sun in danger of becoming a myth it had been hidden for so long. The other side of town was flooded, and the tides had been unseasonably high. That still didn't stop Martha Anderson from returning to the cave that afternoon.
She was shaking with nervous excitement as she stood at the mouth of the cave. The tide was indeed high, she stood almost knee-deep in water and could feel the strong current sucking at her feet; trying to pull her away as if it was scared of the cave.
"Holy Father, I have done as you commanded, I am your faithful servant for now and always. Oh Heavenly Lord please delivery my son to me, as yours was delivered to the world so that together we can live in divinity and spread your message." Martha had sunk to her knees, the pebbles that covered floor cut into her flesh but she did not notice. Her eyes had widened, the pupils dilated so large the consumed her entire eye, save for a small corona of colour.
Martha rose, and entered the cave.
She needed the flashlight, the darkness seemed more total than during her previous visit. The water levels soon reduced to nothing more than ankle-deep, and by the time Martha reached the division of the tunnel the floor was dry. A strange smell hung in the air however, like rotten fish. Martha faltered, her pace slowed and for a short second she questioned herself. However, it was too late for second thoughts, and who was she to question the will of God? He had blessed her with a child, and she was blessed to be given the chance to raise someone so important to the message of her Lord.
She took the right hand fork and searched with the flashlight, trying to find the shelf that had served as the resting place for her boy. She saw nothing. Martha then remembered that she had chosen the right hand fork, as her son was the right hand of God, and he had a message to be spread. She searched and found the shelf, but it was empty. The rocks had been removed and lay littered on the ground.
Behind her something rustled, Martha spun around, suddenly nervous, and fearful. The white bed sheet lay on the ground, fluttering in the firm breeze that seemed to whistle through the cave.
Martha bent down to gather the blanket when a hand grabbed her shoulder.
"Mother" A wet, rotten voice growled in her ear. The pain was intense, the teeth pierced the flesh of her neck and the Martha Anderson's world exploded in a flash of white-hot pain, and then went black.
