At the main
entrance above the floor of the kiva, at the top of the stairs, two figures
appeared. One was Alicia, still dressed as she had been in the desert. She was
sensationally sexual, reminding Thomas of those paintings of women in the
apartment where he had danced with her so many years ago. Her pale skin,
contrasted with her raven black hair, turned heads, even those of the
Pseudo-Mogollon. Unenthusiastic before, they now appeared to believe that a
goddess had entered the kiva.
Thomas
assumed that the other figure was Miller. Naked, his form was flawless. He
appeared neither young nor old. Muscles rippled in his chest, his thighs, his
shoulders, arms. Thomas thought of Adam and Eve, prior to the Fall. Looking at
the quietly stunned, subdued reaction of the crowd, he also thought of Christ
and Magdalen. He thought of Greek gods, Apollo and Athena, Mars and Aphrodite.
The two
idols came down the stairway, hand in hand, and moved through the silent,
adoring crowd. As they approached the table they separated and maneuvered
around each side of the altar table before joining on the other side and
standing just a few feet from Thomas, facing him on the cross.
Once they
were close, Thomas was strangely unimpressed with their bodies, perfect though
they might have been for runway models or exotic dancers. Now they were just
bodies, momentarily arranged differently than that of Dominic but ultimately
subject to the same derangement and decomposition.
The
mysterious two looked up at him. Miller’s gaze was vacant. In Alicia’s dead
eyes was the folly of all flesh.
