“Frogs is hatched,” Ben said. He smoked his pipe contentedly.

I sat on the step with my knees drawn up under my chin and studied the barn. It was like a dark portal in the gathering dusk, a doorway to perdition.

“Do you think that man is in Hell?” I asked Albion, who perched on the bannister.

“I reckon I aint told you. I’m a No Heller.”

“A what?”

“A No Heller. Hit’s a kind of Hardshell Baptist. The Hardshells, you know, they believe God has it all set out who will be saved and who wont. Some go to Heaven, some to Hell, and they aint nothing a body can do about it. Me, I’m a No Heller. That’s why I left Knott County, because they didnt want to hear the No Hell preached. They reckoned they was bound for glory and they didnt want to hear about no sinners coming with them.”

“You mean you dont believe in Hell?” I was shocked. “What about the bad people?”

“Who is the bad people? Hit’s us, Carrie. I believe in the Fall. I believe in the first sin, that it taints all of us.”

“What about the man that kilt his baby? You and me wouldnt do that.”

“Who’s to say what we wouldnt do? We aint lived our lives yet. We had it easy compared to some folks.”

“What about the coal operators that stole your daddy’s land?”

“What about Miles?” he said softly.

I stiffened, stared into the darkness. “What about him?”

He came down to sit beside me. Ben and Flora had gone inside without my noticing.

“I shouldnt say I dont believe in Hell,” Albion said. “Hit’s real. We all of us live in it sometimes, and maybe will after we die. Oh yes, hit’s real, and hit burns, just like the others preach. But one day Jesus Christ will wade right into Hell and haul out the sinners. Haul them out kicking and screaming. And I’ll tell you what. The folks that stays in Hell the longest will be the ones that vow they dont belong there.”

“I dont know,” I said. “When I think on dying, it’s Heaven scares me more than Hell. Hit allays has worried me that Heaven sounds so dull. Nobody does nothing wrong, which means we aint got no choice but to do right, and everybody sits around staring at them golden streets and twiddling their thumbs. Hell sounds a lots more interesting.”

“Naw,” he said. “I dont reckon that the God who thought up all this here peculiar world would come up with nothing dull. Think of what would make you content.”

“I’d be content ifn everybody I loved was together in one place.”

“But aint you been hurt by the ones you love?”

“Yes,” I whispered.