Pastor Zeke’s smile looked like it was hurting him.

“Come on, brother,” he coaxed. He sounded like he was short of breath. Oh, Lord, Pastor Zeke was going to pop a vein if he didn’t do it this time, he’d throw him right out of the church with his Momma and brother and Uncle Fisher all watching.

Dwayne took one step down into the water. The cold stroked his thighs.

“That’s it,” Pastor Zeke said. “One more.”

He closed his eyes and took the step. The water gurgled up under his robe, closed over him like a clammy fist. He felt Pastor Zeke folding his arms over his chest and thought I knew it, I’m going to die, I’m going to die right here, right now, and not even baptized.

“Dwayne Elias Elliot, do you accept the Lord Jesus Christ into your heart as your personal savior?” Pastor Zeke shouted. His hands felt hot as fire on Dwayne’s shoulders, ready to shove him down—

No! Dwayne thought. “Yes,” he whispered. Something cold and wet settled over his mouth and nose. He sucked in a mouthful of cold cotton. The handkerchief.

Even though he was ready for it, the pull took him by surprise and he couldn’t keep his balance; water swarmed over him, flooded up his nose and into his mouth. He opened his eyes and flailed against the hands that held him down. Roaring in his ears, shouting, screaming. He thrashed.

The hands let him go. He didn’t go up. He went down, away from the light, the air. His thrashing sent the handkerchief floating away, and he banged off the side of the glass tank. Green mold in the corner. He needed to breathe, needed to, had to.

He closed his eyes and saw it again, that face, gray, bloated, the eyes gone, the skin ragged and chewed up, pale muscle poking out, a grin of white bone on the cheek—

His eyes flew open. There was a light up above him. A bright light. An orange light. If he could just get to that light he’d live, he’d live—

He found the bottom of the tank and pushed up. More roaring in his ears. The congregation? Screaming like it was a hometown football game?

He burst up out of the water, choking, gagging, and for a second he couldn’t see because of the water in his eyes. Reverend Zeke was bright, so bright—

Pastor Zeke was on fire. Lord have mercy, Dwayne thought in dumb amazement, tongues of fire, just like at the Pentecost. No wonder people were screaming, they were screaming in tongues—