Isaac: Behold, a dream did come to me, and the Lord did show all of this to me. Corn-Children: Praise God! Praise the Lord! Isaac: A time of tribulation has come. A test is at hand… the final test. Malachai: What has the Lord commanded? Isaac: In my dream the Lord did come to me, and He was a shape. It was He Who Walks Behind the Rows. And I did fall on my knees in terror, and hide my eyes, lest the fierceness of His face strike me dead! He told me all that has since happened; He said, "Joseph has taken his things and fled this happy place, because the worship of Me is no more upon him. So take you his life, and spill his blood, like water upon the earth! But let not the flesh pollute the corn; cast him instead upon the road!" Malachai: And so it was done. Joseph the Betrayer was cast out! Isaac: And He Who Walks Behind The Rows did say, "I will send outlanders amongst you: a man and a woman. And these outlanders will be unbelievers and profaners of the holy. And the man will sorely test you, for he has great power, even greater than that of the Blue Man!" Corn-Children: The Blue Man! Yes, the Blue Man! Isaac: And just as he was offered up unto Him, so shall be the unbelievers! Malachai: Make sacrifice unto Him! Bring Him the blood of the outlanders! Corn-Children: Praise God; praise the Lord! Praise God! Praise the Lord…!
♥ "HOLY JESUS!" the evangelist shouted, and now the words came in a powerful, pumping cadence, almost as compelling as a driving rock-and-roll beat: "When they gonna know that way is death? When they gonna know that the wages of the world are paid on the other side? Huh? Huh? The Lord has said there's many mansions in His house. But there's no room for the fornicator. No room for the coveter. No room for the defiler of the corn. No room for the hommasexshul. No room—"
Vicky snapped it off. "That drivel makes me sick."
"What did he say?" Burt asked her. "What did he say about corn?"
♥ They stepped out onto the sidewalk, and Burt was struck afresh with the town's silence, and with the smell of fertilizer. Somehow you never thought of that smell when you buttered an ear and salted it and bit in. Compliments of sun, rain, all sorts of man-made phosphates, and a good healthy dose of cow shit. But somehow this smell was different from the one he had grown up with in rural upstate New York. You could say whatever you wanted to about organic fertilizer, but there was something almost fragrant about it when the spreader was laying it down in the fields. Not one of your great perfumes, God no, but when the late-afternoon spring breeze would pick up and waft it over the freshly turned fields, it was a smell with good associations. It meant winter was over for good. It meant that school doors were going to bang closed in six weeks or so and spill everyone out into summer. It was a smell tied irrevocably in his mind with other aromas that were perfume: timothy grass, clover, fresh earth, hollyhocks, dogwood.
♥ She looked. Neatly pegged white letters under glass read: THE POWER AND GRACE OF HE WHO WALKS BEHIND THE ROWS.
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