The Wrath of Eden

  The Wrath of Eden

  Copyright © 2018 by Roberta Kagan

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

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  DISCLAIMER

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Book One

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Book Two

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Book Three

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter. Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Deep in them Appalachian hills, far from the main roads where the cityfied people come and go. lies a harsh world where a man’s character is all he can rightly claim as his own. This here is a land of deep dark coal mines where a miner ain’t certain when he ventures into the belly of the mountain whether he will ever see daylight again. From this beautiful yet dangerous country where folks is folks, and even to this very day they still tell tales of the Robin Hood like outlaw Pretty Boy Floyd even though there ain’t no such thing as a thousand dollar bill no more, comes a story as old as time itself…a tale of good and evil of right and wrong and the legend of a troubled man who walked a perilous path on his journey back to God…

  Prologue

  1917

  Eighteen-year-old Cyrus Hunt’s heart swelled with admiration for his father as he sat on the well-worn wooden bench at the Pentecostal church that was as much a part of him as the food he ate and the water he drank. His father, Pastor Josiah Hunt, was not only a revered and respected as the leader of the congregation, but he was also loved by all his parishioners.

  To the left of Cyrus sat his handsome younger brother, Aiden. Cyrus’s mother sat on his right and Grace, the youngest child and only daughter, sat at the inside end of the aisle next to her mother.

  All was silent in the small, white-washed church save for the powerful bellow of Josiah Hunt as he stood at the pulpit. The mesmerized congregation held fast to his every word.

  Josiah Hunt’s voice grew louder as his eyes glassed over and lost focus. As he stood before his people, giving testament to the word of God, he disconnected from the world of the living and became one with the world of the Holy Spirit.

  It was as if he transcended the earth and was right there in the presence of the Lord.

  The calling had come to Josiah Hunt when he was just a boy, just as it had come to his father before him. Josiah was sure of his destiny, beyond a shadow of a doubt. But when Josiah was sixteen, a terrible incident shook his world. One cold Sunday morning on a crystal blue day in January, Josiah’s father was giving his sermon, as he had done every Sunday for as long as Josiah could remember. Then, as usual, his father put his hand into the snake box to grab a bunch of rattlers. This part of the service was important; it was proof of unwavering faith. But Josiah was sure that something must have weakened his father’s faith that day because, when he reached into the snake box, the snake bit him. Josiah still remembered how shocked and horrified he was as his father cried out in pain. Josiah felt a wave of nausea come over him as his father pulled his bleeding hand from the box. The blood dripped in small red droplets, as red as red velvet roses, onto the dirt floor. The congregation, shocked and frightened, immediately began to pray for their pastor. Josiah prayed too. In fact, he never prayed harder in his life. The whole church of the Tabernacle of Jesus of the Pentecost cried and begged for the healing of their devoted pastor. But even with all of their voices raised to God, Josiah’s father could not be saved. The pastor vomited. His body writhed in pain as he trembled. And then it happened. He heard the voice of God. He told young Josiah, his siblings, and his mother that God had called for him.

  “It’s my time,” Josiah’s father said. “God wants me to come to him.”

  Josiah watched his mother kiss his father’s forehead as he left the earth while the flock of church folks wept. It saddened Josiah to say goodbye to his father, but it did not frighten him enough for him to turn on his calling. For Josiah knew that his own faith was more powerful than his father’s had ever been. The power of spirit first came over him when he was just a young child of six or seven. By the time he was ten years old, his faith was so strong that he’d gone up to the pulpit and taken up serpents, knowing for certain that God would know the power of his devotion and spare his life.

  Since that day, Josiah handled the deadly snakes more times than he could count. Only once had Josiah ever suffered a bite. It was when Cyrus was twelve. Josiah was holding several snakes at once, holding them high in the air. The church music was joyful and everyone, including Cyrus and his brother Aiden, were singing. But then, one of the serpents turned its triangular head and, as fast as lightning, it sunk its fangs deep into his Josiah’s flesh. Blood poured from the wound in a heavy stream, like water or moonshine from a full jug. The crimson flow of liquid life baptized the floor and covered Josiah’s shirt and pants.

  Cyrus had never been as afraid as he was that day. He was sure his father would die. However, Josiah refused to give in to the pain and the poison. Instead of feeling a loss of faith, the bite only served to strengthen Josiah’s trust in the Lord. Josiah Hunt was carried by his parishioners back to the small, crowded cabin that he shared with his wife and children.

  The rest of that night was terrifying for Cyrus and his siblings. Cyrus watched as the hours passed and his father thrashed on the bed, bathed in sweat, his face red with fever, hot
and distorted from the pain. Pastor Hunt lost consciousness several times, but when he came to, Josiah swore that his devotion to the All Mighty was growing more powerful by the minute. Finally, at seven the following morning, as the sun began to flicker tiny spurts of light in the dark sky, with every ounce of energy and will that Josiah Hunt had left inside of him, he forced himself to get out of the bed. Then he knelt down and bent his head in prayer.

  Cyrus was lying awake in the main room, and he turned to watch. Josiah didn’t know that his son was watching him. Cyrus didn’t make a sound, but at that moment, he wished with all of his being that someday he might be a man like his father.

  And so it was that God saw fit to let Josiah Hunt live. It was several weeks before Josiah could return to preach but when he did, he told his congregation that while he was under the influence of the poisonous venom he had heard the actual voice of God. He told Josiah he must continue to bring the word of God to his flock, and they must never give up on their faith.

  If the congregation loved him before he survived the snakebite then afterward they thought of him as a true messenger of the word. And so every Sunday, no matter how much life disappointed them, they were present at Pastor Hunt’s church service. There was no doubt that living in their poverty-stricken world, struggling as they worked in the coal mines or dying of the black lung, life disappointed them. But they relished their Sunday church sermons when they could feel the power of the Holy Ghost enter them and, for a time, remove all their pain and sorrow. The parishioners of the church were humbled to be in the presence of this man; a man who held their deepest respect. That man was Josiah Hunt.

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  Now with his family in the first pew, Pastor Josiah Hunt stood in front of his followers. They all raised their hands in the air, ready to share in the wonder of the word of God. But for the moment, Pastor Hunt could not see or hear them. He trembled as the spirit of the Holy Ghost came into him. Three men with guitars began to play; another kept rhythm on a tambourine. The congregants clapped their hands and sang, their bodies rocking and moving as the Holy Spirit took hold of each of them. Then Josiah opened the cage.

  As he took the large, angry rattlesnake hissing and rattling from inside, Josiah felt the power of God shoot through him like a bolt of lightning. His body trembled with the force of divine energy that now controlled his every movement. The preacher held the snake up above his head and was unafraid. Several moments passed and all that could be heard was the wind in the trees outside and the clicking of the snake’s tail.

  “Can you feel the Holy Ghost within you?” Pastor Hunt called out.

  The rest of the congregation answered, “Yes.”

  “Can you hear the voice of God?” He asked again, louder than the first time.

  “We can hear it!” The music and singing began again.

  “Lord, bind these snakes so that they can cause your devoted followers no harm,” Josiah prayed.

  Josiah Hunt took several more rattlesnakes out of the box and held them all up as he danced to the music. He waved the serpents around as their forked tongues darted in and out.

  A couple of the congregants came forward and walked up to the pulpit. They took a snake from the preacher and held it in the air. But they did not hold the snake for very long. Aiden rose and walked up to the pulpit. He was full of confidence and unafraid as he reached for a copperhead. His father handed it to him and Aiden danced with the snake for a while and then handed it back to his father

  Cyrus wanted to follow his brother Aiden. He wanted to prove to his father that he was as good, if not better than, Aiden but he was afraid. He was angry with himself. Cyrus despised the fear he felt rising within him. But as hard as he tried, he could not overcome the fear and will himself to go up to the pulpit and take a snake into his hands.

  Carefully, Josiah returned the serpents to the snake box. Their tongues darted and they hissed as Pastor Hunt put the top of the box back in place, securing the reptiles. Cyrus secretly breathed a sigh of relief knowing the snakes were contained; a sigh he was deeply ashamed of.

  A woman in the middle row came out to the aisle and began speaking in an undecipherable language. At first, she rambled quietly but then as the momentum grew and she felt more spirit enter her, her voice grew louder and more powerful.

  “The Holy Spirit is upon her,” Preacher Hunt said. “Look, she speaks in tongues.”

  The woman grew limp and almost fell to the ground but a group of women formed a circle around her, holding her up as her entire body was possessed by the Holy Spirit.

  Then a man stood up, his body shaking, as he too began to babble. Several other congregants followed suit.

  Pastor Josiah Hunt anointed their heads with oil as he walked amongst his flock.

  They loved him. He was the closest person to God that they had ever known. They had read where it said in the Bible “And they shall take up serpents and if they are truly anointed by the Holy Spirit they will not be harmed.” Every Sunday without fail, Josiah Hunt took up serpents and he was not harmed.

  Cyrus watched everything, every small thing that was taking place in that little church in the clearing deep in the heart of the woods of West Virginia. He was proud that the pastor was his father. The way that others followed his father like sheep impressed him. Cyrus wanted to be just like Josiah, but no matter what he did in his life, Cyrus could never prove to his daddy that he was worthy of following in his footsteps.

  Cyrus did what he could to help the family financially. He slaved for fourteen hours every day, deep in the dark belly of a coal mine and faithfully gave his pay envelope to his mother every week. Josiah Hunt encouraged Cyrus to work in the mines yet he protested strongly when Aiden did the same. When Cyrus’s mother asked Josiah why he felt the way he did about the boys working in the mines, Josiah merely answered that Cyrus was more cut out for that kind of work than Aiden.

  There was once an incident when the boys were young that had indicated to Josiah that his son Aiden was not meant for working in the mines. Strangly it had nothing to do with mining. It had to do with feeding the snakes.

  The snakes were fed live rats. A rat was dropped into the cage to be devoured alive by the serpent. At first, Josiah trusted Aiden with the job. But when Josiah found the snakes dead after three months of starvation, he began to look further. And when he did, he found a small cage crafted from wood and wire where, instead of feeding the rats to the snakes, Aiden was keeping the rats as pets.

  When Cyrus heard that his father had discovered his brother’s secret hiding place for the rats, he was sure that his daddy would be angry with Aiden. And secretly, he was glad. He wanted his father to choose him over his brother as his favorite for once. But instead of anger, the preacher just patted Aiden’s shoulder and said, “Aiden, you sure is a sensitive boy. Ain’t no shame in it. You’re just too kind-hearted to watch any of God’s creatures suffer. That’s why you wouldn’t be no good in the mines. You just ain’t got the heart for it. You’d be riskin your life to save other folks every day. And we can’t have that. So you ain’t gonna be no miner. And as far as the rats is concerned…well, Cyrus can feed them. Can’t you, boy?”

  Cyrus nodded. “Sure, Paw. I can handle it.”

  At the time, Cyrus was hurt. He hid his feelings from his father because he yearned for his father’s admiration. So he took up the feeding of the rattlers. He was afraid of the slithery creatures that had been cursed to walk on their bellies for tempting Eve. He hated them with their forked tongues, clicking tails, and mesmerizing eyes. But Cyrus didn’t want to disappoint his father. And so he did as he was told. Cyrus fed the snakes, and he hid his fear of the mines as he carried his metal lunch box into the depth of the dangerous mountain every day.

  He’d been lucky so far. He had not witnessed an explosion nor been lost in the black cavern that had swallowed up so many of the men who lived in their town. But tonight, Cyrus had a plan that he felt sure would make his father proud of him. As
he watched the church service begin to wind down, he became excited with anticipation of telling his father his plans.

  That night, as they all sat down for dinner in the small wood cabin behind the church where they lived, they said grace and then Josiah began to pass the food.

  Cyrus felt his nerves tingle. He wanted to please his father, wanted his father to see the good in him.

  “Paw, I been givin this a lot of thought. A lot of thought. And I am real proud to be your son.” Cyrus took a deep breath. “Everyone in our town has real respect for you. You are loved by everyone. And, well, like I said, I been giving this a lot of thought. I want to become a preacher like you.” Cyrus’s palms were sweating as he watched his father’s eyes. Then he added, “You see, Paw, I am real excited to tell you that I am sure I been hearing the calling. I know for certain that this is what I am meant to do.”

  The preacher Josiah Hunt stopped in the midst of serving himself a heaping spoonful of mashed potatoes. He put the spoon back into the bowl and then leaned back in his chair. He looked down at his plate without saying a word for several minutes. Then he raised his head and looked at Cyrus. “I don’t think you’re meant for the cloth, Son. I just can’t see it in you.”

  “Why, Paw? I am sure I hear the calling. I know I am meant for it.”

  His father’s shoulders slumped and he shook his head. “I just don’t know. Your faith and spirit gotta be pure and strong or you gonna get bit by that serpent sure as I am sitting here.”

  “And you don’t think I am good enough?”

  “It’s not that you ain’t good enough. It’s just that I don’t know if your faith…”

  “But you think Aiden is meant to be the next Preacher? You think he belongs in the church, don’t you, Paw? I am your eldest boy, but Aiden is the one that you think is the most like you. You want him to follow in your footsteps, ain’t that right?”

  “Well, Son, from the time Aiden was real young he seemed to have that special light inside him.” Paw shrugged his shoulders. “I’m sorry, I just can’t take you as my successor in the church. Not in good conscience. You see, Son, there is all sorts of things that folks is meant to do here on this earth. And they be servin God, just not all of them in the same way. You ain’t meant for preachin. That’s all. It ain’t a bad thing.”