Dark Witness by Rebecca Forster

began to shake. He crossed his arms and buried his face in the nest they made. Duncan knew that hand of his should have caused Billy Zuni to faint with the pain of it, but there was an even deeper pain in the boy. It was a pain of the heart and the soul. Billy Zuni cried and his cries became wails and the wails became a long shriek. Within it all there were words of self-recrimination, pleas for forgiveness, and the name Hannah. Duncan slid down beside him, and put one hand on his back, and his other across his heart as he listened. He took Billy's sorrow for his own.
    "My fault. . .If she dies. . .Because of me. . ." Billy wept.
    "She won't die, Billy. Hannah is in God's hands. He is merciful. He meant for you to be found and be delivered to us. We'll figure it out, and when we do you will be made whole. You might even be healed. But for now, you are safe. Do you understand? You are safe."
    Duncan spoke in his Goldilocks voice: not too harsh, not too soft, just right. Soothed by that voice – or simply reaching the end of his grief – Billy fell silent and so did Duncan. But still Billy's tears fell, and the preacher continued to rub his back through the dirty yellow jacket. When he had stopped shaking and moved his head so that his cheek lay against his arms, when he gave up and gave in to his shock and weakness, when his eyes stared lifelessly at the door, Duncan put his arms around Billy.
    "Come on. Find the strength and raise yourself up. I'm here to help you."
    Billy blinked. Duncan tightened his grip and finally the boy got up, unsteady and dazed. Duncan had seen this kind of trauma before, these psychic wounds, this delayed alarm, this sudden realization that someone you love is in jeopardy. He would heal this boy. He would heal this girl. Not just their bodies, but whatever ailed their souls. Perhaps that was why they had been delivered to Duncan, to test him. Slowly, he guided Billy to the daybed that served as his couch and planned for what glorious things were to come for these two souls who had literally been lost in the wilderness.
    "Dude," Billy mumbled. "Please. Please."
    "My name is Duncan, Billy."
    Duncan sat the boy down. He took one of Billy's legs and put his other hand on Billy's shoulder. He pushed and pulled until Billy lay on the mattress, the fight gone out of him.
    "Time to clean you up." Duncan unzipped the yellow jacket. "We can't afford to waste anything here, and I just can't bring myself to cut this fine jacket off you. I'm sorry, Billy, this has to be done."
    Duncan took hold of one cuff on the jacket. He pulled fast and sure over Billy's broken hand. The boy howled and writhed in pain, but Duncan went on with his chore. He pushed the jacket under Billy and then took the other sleeve down. Still he talked.
    "By the way, I answer to brother. Duncan is fine, too. I just want you to know that we have rules here. Courtesies."
    He squared Billy's shoulders. He found a pillow and put it under his head. When that was done, Duncan pulled the stool over and sat close to the bed. He put his hand on Billy's head and petted it.
    "We are a very small group here, Billy. We are orderly and your arrival has not been orderly. We are coming upon a great moment in our history. A baptism of faith that is so profound we – all of us – are going to have to focus on that. So, I want you to listen to me very carefully. Are you listening?"
    Billy nodded, but it was a reflexive action. The world was crashing down on him. The fear he had held at bay through those hours in the container was devouring him, and the exhaustion of watching over Hannah weighed so heavy on him he could barely breathe. He wasn't sure what he was hearing; he didn't know what he was supposed to say. All he knew was that Hannah was gone, and that he hated the sound of this man's voice. When Duncan put his hand on Billy's shoulder, he felt as if he had been branded.
    "God was with you in that horrible place 'cause it's a sure bet you weren't