The Hand of God
Date: 2012-03-02 05:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Horror; Thriller
Description: Charlie Sims is not your typical preacher. God has called him to rid the world of sinners. One corpse at a time, he carries out his brutally selfless work until a more powerful preacher appears who will change his life forever. A battle ensues for the fate of mankind. Charlie's devout beliefs are shaken as he finds himself hurtled into a battle for the end of the world where nothing is what it seems. A violent tale filled with death and chaos, the lines between good and evil are blurred and eventually demolished.
Publisher: Smashwords Edition

The Hand

Of God

Tim Miller

Copyright© of Tim Miller 2012

All rights reserved

The right of Tim Miller to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

Published by Vamptasy Publishing

Cover design from stock

Design by Nicola Ormerod

Thank you to my soulmate Lori for working so hard on this journey with me.  And to my little girl, Ashley, who will always be my princess

The Hand of God                                                     Tim Miller

Part 1: The Prophet

Isaiah 37:36

Then the angel of the LORD went forth, and smote in the camp of the Assyrians an hundred fourscore and five thousand: and when they arose early in the morning, behold, they were all dead corpses.

Prologue

Who would dare challenge the hand of God?  This was the question I asked myself every night.  The world was full of sinners, so my work was never done.  Tonight’s sinner was an adulteress.  During the day, she was a school teacher, mother of two beautiful children with a loving husband.  Her husband practically worshipped the ground she walked on.  Yet this wasn’t good enough for her.  Despite his years of love, devotion and adoration; as well as him giving her everything she could ever want, she was sleeping with another man.

The “other” man was a bad boy.  He’d been in jail a few times, couldn’t hold a job, and hung out in bars daily.  Yet he was much manlier than her gentle husband who loved her so.  Adultery was sin in the eyes of God.  He had declared her sin an abomination.  Those who commit this act shall be put to death.  Tonight, I was going to do just that.

I sat outside the adulteress’s school as darkness began to fall. It was almost eight o’clock.  I’d been watching her for days.    She taught fifth grade, but also worked with the choir. This often resulted in late nights.  Finally, she came walking out toward her car, the same way she did every night.  I parked right next to her car to make things quick and easy.

“Excuse me, ma’am?” I said as I stepped out of my Tahoe. She didn’t seem startled at my presence.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“Yes, do you have a cell phone?  My truck won’t start, and my phone seems to be dead.  I’m really sorry to bother you.”

“Umm, yes I do,” she said, as she began to look through her purse.  The distraction was just what I needed.  I lunged toward her, and in one smooth motion placed her into a reverse choke hold, cutting off her air and her circulation.  Within seconds she was limp in my arms.  I popped the tailgate on my Tahoe and slid her inside, threw the canvas tarp over her and closed it up.  It all took less than a minute.  I climbed back in and began the drive to the Chapel.

I stood watching her as she began to awaken. I looked up at her, admiring my own work.  One of the fun things about my work was seeing the look on sinners’ faces when they realized their predicament.  Her response wasn’t any different.  I had stripped her naked, tied her to a large wooden cross, and had my tools lain out before me on a table.  As she came to, the alarm finally registered on her face, and she began screaming.  She went on like that for a few minutes before she actually spoke.

“What’s going on?  Who are you?” She screamed.  “Where am I?”

“You know why you’re here, sinner.  God sent me to rid the earth of you.”

“For what?  I’m not a sinner! I didn’t do anything wrong!  Why are you doing this?   What do you want?” She struggled against the ropes as she screamed.

“Nothing wrong, huh?”  I walked over to my table.    I picked up the Bible off the table and turned to the book of Leviticus.  “And the man that committeth adultery with another man’s wife, even he that committeth adultery with his neighbor’s wife, the adulterer and adulteress shall surely be put to death.”  I closed the Bible and held it up.  “This is the word of God!  Not up for negotiation!”

“What?  Why?  You don’t even know me!  Are you insane?”  She kept struggling on the cross, trying to free herself, but not budging at all.  I could recognize the look in her eyes; it had gone from fear to anger. It was as if she’s realized her fate and now chose to fight instead of beg.  “What about Brett?  Huh?  Where is he?  It says both of us should be put to death!  Not only are you a murdering freak, but you’re a sexist murdering freak!”

I had a feeling she would mention her lover, Brett.    I reached under the table and pulled out the large trash bag and reached inside.

“Oh, you mean this guy?” I said as I pulled Brett’s severed head from the bag.  His eyes were wide and mouth was gaping open.  She screamed louder and more shrilly than she had earlier, the defiance out of her for the moment.

“Please don’t,” she pleaded.  “Please!  I can change!  I can! I’ll go to church, I’ll beg forgiveness!  I have a family!”

“A family you cheated on, for this piece of garbage.  And for what?  A cheap thrill? A turn on? I hope it was worth it.”

“God no, please!  God help me!” she cried.

“Oh, I’m afraid God won’t help you.  He’s who sent me.”

I put the head back into the bag, and sat it on the floor.  Unfolding the sack on the table, I revealed my tools.  They included meat cleavers, knives, drills and other useful instruments.  She saw them and began screaming again.  I continued through the noise. I was used to it.  It was the sound of God’s justice.  I found my large knife and walked over to her as she continued screaming.  She looked down at me from the cross as I held the knife up to her.

“No! No!  What’re you doing? No!” she screamed, but I ignored her.

As I began to cut down her chest, blood pouring from the incision, I said a prayer:

“God is jealous, and the Lord revengeth; the Lord revengeth and is furious; the Lord will take vengeance on his adversaries, and he reserveth wrath for his enemies.”  I prayed as I cut, blood pouring from her body and covering her in crimson as she continued screaming.  It would be over in a few minutes, and then she would never be found.  There would be no body, no evidence, no trace she-or her sin- ever existed.  Blessed be the name of the Lord.

Chapter 1

The next morning it all seemed like a dream, or at least a haze.  Yet I knew it was real.  Whenever I do God’s work, it’s like I get into a zone.  It’s as if His spirit fills me and carries out His will while I’m a helpless bystander in my own body.  Whatever it is, I was glad to be a vessel of the Lord’s mighty power.  It was Sunday morning, and it was time for church.

My name is Charlie.  Most know me as Pastor Charlie Sims, the senior pastor at the Living Word Bible Fellowship just south of San Antonio, Texas.  We are a peaceful and loving group of God-fearing people.   No one in my congregation knows about my special calling.  That is something that stays between God, me, and His condemned.  In the Old Testament, the Lord sent prophets among men to go into the world and spread word of His will and pronounce his judgment.  This is where He has called me today.  I am the Hand of God.

My ministry was not about movements, multimedia presentations, protests or “rocking the vote,” or even Tea Parties.  Those things are meant to do nothing more than make the people doing them feel good about themselves.  I guess that is good for them, but doesn’t seem all that productive.  It’s just lots of talking.  I, on the other hand, believe in action, in ridding the world of filth and sin.  God doesn’t play favorites, so neither do I.  All sins are fair game.  I’ve had homeless people on my cross as well as doctors, and even a few entertainers. Sin is sin, and I already know who my next sinner will be.  However, at the moment, I have a church to run.

This Sunday morning started out like most.  Our worship band played some of our favorite contemporary worship songs, and even some older hymns.  “How Great Thou Art” and “Onward Christian Soldiers” were a couple of my favorites.  All the songs they played were passionate and uplifting songs for worship.  Despite our being a more traditional church, our congregation enjoyed upbeat and modern worship songs with guitars and drums.  Years ago, that didn’t go over so well in many churches, but times have changed.  I liked it.  The music made things more lively and interesting.

After worship music, I would preach my weekly sermon.  This week’s sermon was about the evils of lust.  I recently had to fire one of our assistant pastors over his addiction to pornography.  I had counseled him several times over the last few months, but he did not want to let go of his true love.  It was this love for images on his computer of naked women committing vile acts for his pleasure that ruined him.

Cutting him loose was hard. He was quite upset about it.  He even cried in my office and begged for another chance.  I let him address the congregation his last Sunday there so he could say goodbye.  Of course, he cried in front of them too.  He said he didn’t know what he would do, but hoped the Lord would provide for him and his family.  As upset as he was, he had no idea how much better this was than the alternative I may have chosen for him. I didn’t kill him because God didn’t tell me to.  God apparently had other plans for him.

During my sermon, I read some passages about lust.  One of my favorites was from Proverbs 7, regarding the adulteress and warnings against her.  I felt it was appropriate after the last night’s events.

“With her much fair speech she caused him to yield, with the flattering of her lips, she forced him.  He goeth after her straightway, as an ox goeth to the slaughter, or as a fool to the correction of the stocks; Till a dart strike though his liver; as a bird hasteth to the snare and knoweth not that it is for his life.”

I was going to make a point as I finished the last verse, but a baby began to cry from the back of the church.  A lump rose in my throat as I tried to refrain from calling out the parents from the pulpit.  Here I was, delivering a beautiful sermon, about to conclude with a strong point, and someone’s baby was making all that racket.  I could hardly hear myself think.  This is why we have a nursery! Parents who brought their infants into the sanctuary during a service were one of my pet peeves.  Part of me wished God would add that to his list, so I could take care of it my own special way, but I knew what wouldn’t happen.  God gave me strict guidelines for carrying out his work, and slaughtering babies for crying in church, or their clueless parents for not tending to them properly,  definitely did not fit those guidelines, no matter how annoying they were.

Once the service was concluded, everyone filed out the front door as I stood by greeting them.  The whole scene was so routine in churches across the country,  it was almost cliché.  The people liked shaking their pastor’s hand after church, no matter how fake or contrived the whole exercise may be.  As I stood by the door, Mr. and Mrs. Johnson were the first to step outside.  I’d provided them with marriage counseling on several occasions.

Mr. Johnson seemed to have a thing for wearing his wife’s underwear.  She hated it, thought it was creepy, and so she wanted a divorce.  However, she had her own compulsion: shopping.  I convinced them they were better off working on their own problems and staying together, but suggested perhaps they needed to give each other some space.  This seemed to work, since they seemed much happier these days.  There was more to being the Hand of God than meting out judgment, although serving the Lord by carrying out His justice was the part of the job I liked best.

“Hey Pastor Charlie!” A voice called from behind me.  I knew the voice instantly; before I even turned to see, I knew it was Lee Snider.  I resisted the urge to run and hide, but it would have been no use.  Lee always had a way of finding me.  Lee was a good Christian man, probably too good.  God only knew what he was hiding.  He made an effort  to track me down after every sermon to give me his thoughts on every single point.  It would often turn into a one-sided theological discussion..  Not that I was against such things, but I could tell he just wanted to impress me with his biblical knowledge.  I think he was hoping I’d offer him a job or something.  I don’t even know what  his regular job was.  Not very pastorly of me, I suppose.

“Hi Brother Lee, how are you today?”

“I’m good, Pastor.  That was quite a message today!”  He had huge smile and kept looking around.  I was several inches taller than he was, so I felt like I was talking to kid.  “I saw a few folks shifting in their seats.  I bet you got people’s attention with that one.  Amen is all I can say!  I felt the spirit moving today!” he threw his arms in the air, almost hitting a woman who was walking up behind him.  I thought maybe I should offer him a job teaching a class.  Then he’d at least have the audience he so sorely craved.

“Thank you
Lee,” I said.  “I’m glad the Lord could speak to you today.” I attempted a smile but it felt forced and uncomfortable.   I never felt “moved” the way regular people always claimed to be.  I suppose that was unusual for a pastor. Many times during prayer and healing services people would fall onto the floor, crying, jumping up and down, or even writhing on the ground, as if they were having a seizure.  All claimed it was the Holy Spirit moving within or through them.  Yet, I never experienced any of those things.  To be honest, I’ve never felt anything at all when it came to spiritual experiences.  I always knew when God was talking to me by the way he communicated with me, but that was Him directly talking to me about my work. I wrote it off as God using me in other ways than the standard Christian experiences. Our work together was very private in nature, after all. Occasionally, it occurred to me that it could be something else working through me, but I preferred not to think like that.

I happened to notice Lee was still talking, but I hadn’t been paying attention.  I just nodded and smiled as he talked about whatever it was.  Thankfully, a police car pulled up, getting everyone’s attention and finally silencing Lee. Everyone stopped and stared at the squad car parked in front of our church, and at the officer who climbed out. The officer walked toward me.  I walked down the sidewalk to meet him, not sure what this was about.  Part of me wanted to thank him for interrupting Lee.

“Pastor Charlie Sims?” the officer asked.

“Yes, that’s me.”

“Can you come with me, please?”

I looked around and saw that everyone’s eyes were on me.  I wasn’t sure if I was in some kind of trouble or what.  There was no way this could be about the teacher or her lover, because I was sure I’d left no trace..  Unless someone saw me take one of them?  I thought I had been much too careful for that, but there was no telling for sure.  I tried not to think about it.

“Please, Pastor Sims, we need to go now.  We haven’t got much time,” the officer said as he opened the squad car door.

Chapter 2

The officer never did tell me his name as he drove me to the south side of San Antonio.  We came to  an industrial center with several factories and warehouses.  One warehouse  was about seven stories tall; on its roofwas a man standing on the ledge, looking down.  This must be why they came and got me.  My first thought was that he had to be one of my congregation members.  I couldn’t think of any other reason the police would have driven out of town just to get me.

As I stepped out of the car, I looked around the scene.   There were fire trucks, police cars and an ambulance standing by, along with a handful of bystanders.  I looked back up at the man to see he was just standing there, staring down at the ground.  I wondered if he was contemplating what it would feel like, or if he was wondering whether it would hurt.  He was too far away for me to see his face from where I was standing.

“Any idea who he is?” I asked one of the officers.

“Says his name is David Davidson.  We had one of our negotiators up there, but he said he wanted to talk to you personally.”

I wasn’t sure what to make of this one.  David Davidson was an odd name; maybe his parents had a sense of humor.  One of the officers whose nametag said Garcia gestured to me, and I followed him into the building and onto a freight elevator.  We rode it to the top floor. The place smelled like dust and copper.  I wasn’t feeling too sure about the elevator, either.  It creaked and groaned as we rode it up.  It was hard to not question the wisdom of riding an elevator in an abandoned building.

Once we got to the top floor, we took the stairs to the roof where we saw Davidson on the edge, waiting for us.  Garcia stopped me before we went any further.

“He said he wanted to talk to you.  Does he look familiar?  From your church or anything?”

I shook my head.  “No, I’ve never seen him before.  I have no idea what this is about.”

“Well,” Garcia said, “You’re the man for now.  Try to use some of your God skills to save his ass.”

I nodded as we both made our way toward Davidson.  As I got closer, I could see he was a short man, probably in his forties, with early stages of baldness.  He was wearing a black t-shirt and gray sweat pants.  I’ve counseled many people who were suicidal before, but never while they were about to jump off of a building.

“Hi, David.  I’m Pastor Charlie,” I said.

He turned and looked at me.

“Yes, I know.  I’m glad you finally made it.  You’re the only one who can help me.”

“Well, what can I do for you?  I’m just a servant of God. He’s the one who can help you.”

David looked down at the ground, then back over at me.

“God told me to find you.  He said I needed to find the Hand of God.”

Chapter 3

The police drove David and me back to the church.  Apparently the scene at the warehouse was just David’s way to get me to come out.  He’d come right down from the roof with us once I’d spoken to him.  I had a million questions of my own for him, the first of which being, how did he know I’m the Hand of God?  Unless God  talked to him directly.  I supposed that was possible.  It would have been arrogant to think I was the only person on earth He spoke to.

We got to my office and he took a seat on one of the leather chairs across from my desk.  I sat across from him, waiting for him to speak, but he just sat there.

“Okay,” I began, “So, tell me what this is about.”

He shifted in his chair and looked up at me.

“Two nights ago, I had a vision.  I know we are near the End Times.  Many things shall come to pass.”  He stood and walked over to the stained glass window, staring at it.  It was an image of God pointing at angels, as if giving them a directive.

“God showed me many sinners, sons of perdition.  They were men of darkness.  There was one in particular.  He was here to destroy the Church.  This church,” he held out his hands and looked around.  “I didn’t want to believe it.  I even said ‘Lord!  No one can destroy Your church!  It is the Body of Christ!’  He said not to worry, that He had a humble servant that would stop this man.”  As he spoke, beads of sweat began forming on his forehead.

I sat there taking all of this in.  I’d been in ministry for many years, and doing my special work even longer.  No one had a clue about what I did on the side.  But the Lord has never sent someone to me this way before.  He always spoke to me directly.  I wondered what was different this time.  The whole thing made me suspicious, yet David knew things no one else could have known.  In ministry, we called this “confirmation--when you receive what you believe to be the word of God, but aren’t sure, and then someone else independently gets the same message from Him.

“Then He showed me you!” David continued, “It was you!  He said you were His hand, His hand of judgment, swift and true.” He looked up and held his arms out to the sky, “Then I saw heaven open, and behold, a white horse.  And he who sat on him was called Faithful and True, and he doth judge and make war.”

That was a first.  I had never been compared or even referred to as one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.  I was almost flattered.

“So why didn’t you just come here to talk to me?  Why all the theatrics on the building?”

“God wanted you to come to me.  That was His confirmation for me that I had the right person.  I saw you in my vision.  You were carrying a large sword and it was covered in blood.”

I was silent for a minute while I processed all this.  What he was saying would sound crazy to most people, but then, so would what I do. In the context of my own life, what he was saying made sense.

“Okay,” I said, “So who is this man?”

“He is a wolf in sheep’s clothing.”

“Yeah, well that isn’t very helpful.  Who is he?  Who am I looking for?”

“He’s not here yet.  But he will be soon, and will be very powerful.  He will do works in Jesus’ name and people will love him.  But he’s an evil man who must be destroyed.”

“So, let me ask you.  What did God tell you about me?  Besides that image in this vision?”

“He just said you were his Hand of Judgment.”

I was trying to see if Davidson  knew anything of my previous work.  If he did, he wasn’t letting on about it.  That was good for him, for now.  I wouldn’t have to kill him just yet.  Besides, it occurred to me, I may need him.

“So, what now?  Did God lay out a plan?”

“No, He said you would know this man when you see him, and you’d know what to do.”

“What about you?” I asked.

“My work is finished for now.  I will move on to whatever else he has planned for me.”

With that, he stood and walked out of my office without another word.  I thought about everything he had just told me.  It troubled me that God sent me a messenger when he’dalways spoken to me directly before.  It was as if I was falling out of favor with God.  But why?  Regardless, I had a big job to prepare for.  The man Davidson described sounded like he could be the Antichrist himself-the man spoken of in Revelation who will imitate Christ and bring about the Great Tribulation.  Whatever this was about, I knew I had to be ready.

Chapter 4

That night I sat in my apartment and reviewed the conversation with David Davidson.  I had no idea what any of it meant.  Thinking about it too much gave me a headache.  I tried praying about it for some guidance, but I had a feeling none would come until the time was right.  In the meantime, I had real work to do.

Sunday evening service would start in a few hours, but I would not be attending.  I called my assistant pastor, Jeffrey Garza, and asked him to fill in.  Our Sunday evening services had about a third of the crowd as the morning ones.  That was South Texas for you.  The weather cools down in the evening so everyone goes into San Antonio, where there was no shortage of things to do.  Sometimes I wondered why we even bothered with Sunday evening services.

I had my own special plans for the evening.  God had revealed someone to me.  This would be a tough job, so I had to be extra cautious.  This sinner was a member of my own church--one of our deacons, Roger Quinn.  Roger was in his sixties and a likeable man.  He’d been a member of our church since before I was born.  He was a Big Brother on weekends, and over the years, had  taught all grade levels of Sunday School.

Unfortunately, Roger also had a thing for pre-teen girls.  He had at least been smart enough to keep his hands off of girls from our church.  But his position as an elementary school teacher gave him plenty of access.  After he’d  retired, it would have just been a matter of time before he began looking to girls at the church to fill his perverse need.  For years he’d gone undetected,  working each day, right under our noses, while victimizing children who were entrusted to his care.  God revealed all of these things to me.

God showed me Roger’s victims, his patterns, his sins.  Tonight it would all stop, once and for all.  I knew Roger would be in church tonight.  He never missed a service.  So I waited down the road from his house, sitting in my Tahoe.  It was a common enough vehicle in Texas, so it didn’t draw any undue attention.

The service would be over with around eight o’clock.  I figured he should arrive home around eight-thirty or nine.  By then, it would be getting dark.  I listened to the radio and was flipping through an old magazine when I saw him arriving in my rear view mirror.  I was just over a block from his house and I stepped out of the Tahoe as he drove toward me.  I waved as he went by, causing him to slow and then pull to a stop.  He rolled down the passenger window as he pulled up.

“Hey, Pastor Charlie.  Everything okay?”

“I was on my way to stop by to see you, but my Tahoe stalled.  Think you could give me a hand?”

“Sure,” he said and pulled in front of my Tahoe and parked.  I went around back and opened the tailgate as he approached.

“What do you think is wrong…” he began but didn’t get a chance to finish.  I spun around and knocked him out using one of my favorite martial arts moves, the brachial stun. When done right, the move—a backhanded swing with the forearm that strikes the person’s side of the neck—disrupts the brachial plexus, a series of nerves running along the neck. A hard enough hit can even result in death, but I knew just how hard to  apply it, and I knocked Roger out cold with one simple hit.              Roger slumped backward, and I grabbed him and threw him into the back of the Tahoe, slamming the tailgate shut behind him.  The whole thing took less than a minute.  I climbed in through the driver’s side door and into the back where I had everything prepared.  I wrapped Roger’s hands in Duct tape and placed a strip of tape over his mouth, in case he woke up too soon.  I always tried to use simple items in case anything was to be found later. I always kept Duct tape handy. It works well and is really common, so it isn’t traceable. Plus, around here, it is used to fix everything from plumbing to cars, so nobody would think it was strange for it to be among my belongings.

I finished up by taping his ankles together and threw a canvas tarp over him.   Once he was secure, I pulled out of my parking spot, confident no one had seen me.  I would take my time getting to the Chapel, so as not to draw any attention.  I prepared everything there yesterday afternoon.  I might have missed church tonight, but I would still be having a service. I smiled as I drove.  God would be receiving another sacrifice tonight. His will be done.

Chapter 5

Hanging a human body from a cross is not an easy task.  They sure don’t climb up there on their own.  Fortunately, Roger stayed out long enough for me to work.  The cross in my chapel was actually made up of two parts.  There was the big, tall post that stood upright, and then the wooden crossbeam.  I stripped Roger naked and tied him to the crossbeam.  Once his arms were secure, I used a hoist to pull him up and attached the crossbeam to the post.  Each piece had slots cut into it so they fit together.  Then, I bolted them into place.  Once that was done, I tied Roger’s feet and ankles to the post.

I set up the altar and got my tools ready.  Attention to detail was very important.  When Moses built the Tabernacle, God gave him specific instructions on how everything was to be, and it all had to be exact, down to the type of material for the curtains and type of wood for the structure.  The preparations for my work went the same way.  Everything had its exact place and had to be a certain way.  It was all part of the ritual, and all part of my carrying out His work, according to His instructions.

The Chapel itself was an old barn just outside of Poteet.  It was off a gravel road and tucked away in a wooded area.  It was remote and difficult to find unless you knew it was there.  My uncle’s family owned it back in the seventies.  The deed is still in the family’s name, but no one has been to this property in decades, besides me.  The nice thing is that it would take several huge leaps to connect it to me if someone were to come across it.

Roger began to struggle and cough as he came to.  He shook his head and looked around, taking in his predicament.

“What?  Where the hell am I?”  He looked around more and saw me standing in front of him.

“Charlie?  Pastor Charlie?  What’s going on?  What is all this?”  He sounded more confused than scared.

“Today is your Judgment Day Roger,” I said, gesturing to the tools lying on the altar before me.  “Be sure, your sin will find you out.”

“Sin?  What sin are you talking about?  Have you lost your mind Charlie?  You know me!”  Panic was starting to set in as he realized his fate.  He began to pull and struggle against the ropes.  “Why am I on a damn cross?  You fucking lunatic!”

I let him have his time.  There was always an initial freak-out when the sinner woke up.  I just hoped he didn’t wear himself out too much and faint.  I hated when that happened.

“I’m a lunatic, Roger?  I’m not the one who likes to fuck little girls.”

He stopped struggling and stared at me.  It was that look of recognition and shock. His eyes were asking me how I could possibly know what he thought he’d been getting away with all these years.

“What?  I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Don’t even go there, Roger.  Or I will make it hurt more.”

“Okay, Charlie, look, it’s not what you think.”

“No?  What do you call it?”

“I’m sorry.  I’ve tried to stop.  I need help okay?  I’m sick.  Maybe you can help me!”

I recognized this. I’d seen it plenty of times before. This was usually when the bargaining phase set in.

“Oh, I’m going to help you all right, Roger.  You’ll never hurt another child again.”

“No!  Please!  You’re a man of God You can’t kill me!”

“God’s the One who told me to take care of you, Roger.”  I picked up a knife and held it up to his face.  “This is the only way you can be stopped.  And, so you will be.”

“No, Charlie, please no!  You can forgive me.  Jesus forgives!”

I reached up, grabbed him by the hair and cut the side of his face. Blood ran down his face as I spoke to him through my clenched teeth.

“Don’t you dare pull that crap with me.  Did your victims beg, too?  These girls you abused?  Did they beg for you to leave them alone? I bet they did. Did you do what they asked? Did you show those girls mercy?

“Charlie, I—“

“Shut up!”  I let go and stepped back.  The mere sight of him disgusted me.

“You didn’t give those girls any choice, but I will give you one. You have a choice to make, Roger.”

That got his attention.

“A choice?”

“When Jesus hung on the cross, he was between two thieves.  One thief cursed Him, while the other who acknowledged Him as the Son of God.  Which thief are you, Roger?  Make your choice.”

“But I’m not a thief…”

I grabbed his hair again and screamed in his face.

“You stole their innocence! Their childhood!  Their lives!  They will never be the same again because of you!  How many others have they victimized as well because of you? You are a thief of the worst kind!”  I let go of his hair again.  “Do you remember what Jesus said about the children?”

“To… love them?” he said through his sobbing.

“Close.  He said that anyone who would cause the little ones to sin, it would be better to have a millstone placed around their neck and cast into the sea.”

Roger just looked down without answering.

“Roger, I am your millstone.”  I walked back toward him holding the knife.  I began to sing an old hymn as I approached.

“At the cross, at the cross

Where I first saw the light

And the burden of my heart rolled away,

It was then by faith I received my sight

And now I’m happy all the day.”

Roger hung there sobbing.  It was sickening to watch a grown man blubbering like that.

“Roger, I now see which thief you are.  You only worship yourself.” Before he could reply I plunged the knife into his chest.  I pushed it in until I felt his aorta pop.  His eyes went wide and his body twitched and convulsed as the life left it.  In less than a minute, he was gone.

I stepped back and looked at his body hanging as the blood poured out from his chest.   I looked up to heaven.

“It is finished,” I said and sat the bloody knife onto the altar.  I then knelt at the altar and folded my hands in prayer.  It was time for worship and to see if God was pleased with my sacrifice. After alone time with God, would be cleanup.  After.

Chapter 6

I got the chapel cleaned up in time for the Monday morning men’s prayer breakfast.   Taking care of Roger took all night.  Once my service was over, I lowered him down off of the cross.  Then, I dismembered him, cutting him into six large pieces using an autopsy bone saw I purchased online several years ago.  It wasn’t hard to find, but it was rather expensive.  After he was properly dismembered, I placed his remains into a fifty-five gallon brew pot I kept in the back room of the chapel.

Brew pots were used for exactly that, brewing beer.  Brand new a pot would run for $600.00 or more, but I found this at a swap meet for just over $300.00.  The pot was hooked into a well and could heat up to well over boiling.  I filled it three quarters of the way with water and then about two pounds of lye.   I sealed the lid on and began the process.  It would take almost five hours.  Once it was done, Roger would be nothing but a brown soup.  From there, all I had to do was open the release valve and let him run down the drain.  It would be as if he never existed.  This was the most efficient way of body disposal that I knew of.

Once everything was cleaned up, I had just enough time to change clothes, shower and head to the Waffle Barn for breakfast.  I managed to only be a few minutes late, but no one seemed to notice.  The men were sitting around the table already talking among themselves.  There were seven of them this morning.  We usually had anywhere from five to seven guys show up each week.  The discussion would cover everything from sports, news or whatever religious topic was going on at the time.  After some small talk, we would take turns praying, eat and then go about our week.

Jose Villareal stood to great me as I took my seat.  He made it to every breakfast each week.

“Good morning Pastor Charlie!” he said, shaking my hand.  “How was your evening?”

“Very enlightening,” I said.  “Thank you.” I took a seat next to Jose.

“Well that’s great.  I didn’t see you at church last night.”

“Yes, that’s right.  The Lord has some other things that needed my attention.”

“Oh, well that’s the important thing,” he said, slapping me on the shoulder.  I should have felt exhausted, but I actually felt quite energized.  Doing God’s work always lifts me up, and gives me a sense of purpose.  I was proud to be his vessel of wrath.  We ordered our food and talked about baseball and basketball.  Someone asked if Roger would be joining us today.  I said nothing even though I knew he wouldn’t be.

As our food arrived we took turns praying.  I prayed for everyone’s safety and guidance this coming week.  I also included a few prayer requests from the men.  Jose’s mother was sick; it was something respiratory but didn’t seem serious yet.  Another man in our group, Mario, had a cousin who’d been in an accident.  Then another deacon, Paul, was having financial problems.  I said prayers for each of them.  The other men all took turns praying.  Once the prayers were finished, we began our meal.

Throughout the meal the guys continued to talk among themselves.  I sat and watched mostly.  During this time I would often study them.  There were many times I felt alienated among my flock, even when breaking bread with them.  Even though I love being among them, I knew what I wasn’t one of them.  I’ve felt like this my whole life. They spent their days going to work, raising families, watching sports.  My focus was always on God and his work for me.  This was why I was always disconnected from those around me.  Some would say I was a sociopath.  They could be right, I suppose.  I saw it as a gift.  With the work God had chosen for me, I could not allow myself any emotional attachments.  No telling who God would tell me to kill for His glory.  I couldn’t let feelings get in the way.

The men continued to chat as I started on my pancakes.  There was a loud bang at the front of the restaurant.  The crash startled me, causing me to drop my fork, getting syrup all over my dress pants.  I was trying to clean the syrup off when Mary Ann Westbrook came running through the front door shouting.  She also attended my church, and worked as a nurse at a local nursing home.

“You guys have to see this!” she shouted, jumping up and down.  “At the nursing home, you won’t believe it!”

“Believe what?” I asked.  Every other diner and all the waitresses were looking at us now.

“One of my patients died this morning,” Mary Ann started, when Jose interrupted her. “Mary Ann, I’m so sorry for your loss, but that isn’t really unusual, is it? I mean, for a nursing home?”

Jose was trying to be helpful, I guess, but I could tell it was annoying Mary Ann almost as it was annoying me. I needed to hear what she had to say. I had a feeling there was something important behind her agitation. “Go on,” I urged gently, shooting Jose a look with my pastoral authority that said “hush.”

“No, of course it isn’t unusual for us to have residents die. It happens. But this lady had been healthy when she came in. She went downhill after she got a stomach infection, and that’s what did her in.” Mary Ann was building to a big finish, I could tell. I wished she would just get to it. “That’s not the weird thing—the miraculous thing!”

“We found her dead this morning. The aide began cleaning her up as I called her family. Then, this preacher who was there visiting another patient came into the room. I guess he’d heard about her dying. He sat down by her, and prayed while he held her hand.” Mary Ann waved her own hands frantically as she spoke, but at least she had stopped hopping. “Well, as he prayed, she woke up! She sat right up, opened her eyes, and started talking!” Mary Ann was flushed as she looked at us, waiting for our reaction.

The men all looked at each other and the rest of the diners began to murmur among themselves.

“It’s a miracle!” Mary Ann exclaimed.  “She’s better now than she was before.  Can you believe it?”

Everyone else was looking at me to see my reaction.  I tried not to look too shocked.  For all I knew, the woman wasn’t really dead to begin with, but something told me she really had been.  Perhaps it was a miracle.  Davidson had said I would know the man when I found him.  I had a feeling I just had.

Chapter 7

When I arrived at the nursing home, the mayhem had already started.  People were gathered outside, trying to see what was going on.  There was even a local news truck parked in the front.  This was going to be great.  If word got out this guy could raise the dead, news crews from San Antonio, Houston and even Dallas would be flocking down here.  I could see the frenzy now.  People would be nearly worshipping the guy, falling at his feet.  I needed to find out what was going on before all that happened.

As I approached the building, Mary Ann was already there.  She ran over to me and led me through the crowd of people, into the nursing home.  Mary Ann was still bounding with excitement.

“Mrs. Woods is her name,” she said.  “She barely remembers anything, but I thought you’d like to meet her.”  I didn’t really want to meet her, but would do so as a formality.  I was more interested in meeting this preacher.  As if she read my thoughts, Mary Ann spoke again.

“Bishop Hoover is still here.  He is the one who prayed over her.”  Now we were getting somewhere.  We walked down a long hallway, past a nurses’ station.  The place smelled like every nursing home I’d ever been in-a combination of bleach and excrement.  Mary Ann took me to a room where a security guard was standing outside.  He nodded to Mary Ann and let us in.  AA man was sitting at Mrs. Woods’ bedside.  He was wearing a black sport coat and white sweater underneath.  His hair was white and balding on top.  The man smiled as he looked up at us and stood.

“Well, hello,” he said.  “You must be Pastor Sims.  So nice to meet you, my friend.”

I shook his hand and stepped into the room.  His smile was warm and friendly.  He reminded me of someone’s grandpa.  I sat next to him and we both looked at Mrs. Woods.  She was sleeping soundly.  She’d had a busy morning, it seemed.  Her breathing was smooth and even.  I was sure that any stomach infection, or anything else ailing her, was probably completely gone.

“So, Bishop Hoover,” I began.  “You really raise her from the dead?”  I wasn’t sure what else to say, so I figured I may as well get straight to the point.

“Oh, no,” he laughed, waving his hand dismissively.  “I did no such thing.  The Lord, on the other hand,” he pointed to the sky, “that is another story.  When the nurse said she had expired, I came to her.  I had a feeling God wasn’t through with her just yet.  I took her hand and just started praying.  After a few minutes, she sat up!”

He was so animated as he spoke, and he seemed filled with so much joy. He was waving his hands and changing his facial expression, as if his eyes were doing the speaking.  I could see he was a very dynamic preacher, one who was  perfect for leading a congregation into God-knows-what. I don’t think I ever got that worked up over anything.  Part of me hoped I was wrong about this man.  Maybe he wasn’t really dangerous, or maybe this wasn’t the man David Davidson was talking about.  He seemed so kind.

“I think we should let Mrs. Woods get some rest,” The Bishop said.  “How would you like to join me for lunch?  I’d like to know more about your church.”

“Sure, that sounds great.” I said, even though I’d just eaten.  It seemed odd that he’d just brought a woman back from the dead, and his first thought was about lunch.  Perhaps this wasn’t an unusual occurrence for him.  “So, have you seen this happen before?”

“Oh, heavens yes!!  I’ve been on mission work all over the world.  God’s miracles are alive and well today, my brother.”  He walked toward the window and looked outside.  The sunlight seemed to illuminate him as he stood there.  “Many would have you believe God is not still at work.  That He doesn’t do miracles anymore.  Sadly, many who say that are within the church itself.  Very sad, indeed.”  He turned as he shook his head.  “People accused Jesus of doing the Devil’s work when he began his ministry and raising the dead.  Yet, now we all know better.”

“You’re right, Bishop,” I nodded, “I’ve heard of many miracles, but haven’t had the privilege of experiencing them firsthand.” I walked closer to Mrs. Woods and watched her sleep.  She shifted slightly, as if she knew I was there.  She had an oxygen cannula around her nose and an IV needle on her wrist, giving her fluids.

“That doesn’t mean they don’t exist Pastor,” the Bishop said.  “Jesus said you receive not because you ask not.  If you assume they won’t happen, then they won’t, for sure.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

We turned toward Mrs. Woods as we heard a moan. She was waking up. Her eyes opened slowly and she looked at us, trying to focus.  She tried to speak but her throat was too dry.  I poured her a glass of water as she sat up.  I held the water to her lips and she took a sip, clearing her throat.  She looked back and forth at each of us before she spoke.

“Are you the one who saved me? Are you an angel?”

The Bishop smiled and clasped his hands over hers.

“No, my dear, God saved you.  I am merely His servant. You’ve become quite popular in the last few hours.  People have come a long way to see you.”

“To see me?  Oh dear.  My hair is a mess and I don’t have any makeup here.”  She patted her hands on both sides of her head.  We both laughed quietly as she reached for her mirror.

“Please don’t let them see me like this,” she said.

“I’m sure Mary Ann can get you fixed up Mrs. Woods,” I said.

“Oh yes, that would be nice.”

“Do you have anyone we can call?  Any family?”

She thought for a moment.

“Oh, no.  My children all live out of state except for my oldest son.  He lives in Dallas last I knew.  We haven’t spoken in years.”  Dallas was at least five hours away.  I figured she should have some family by her side through all of this.

“It’s okay,” she continued.  “I don’t want to be a bother to anyone.  They’re all waiting for me to die anyway.  They think I have money stashed away somewhere.”

The Bishop smiled.  I could tell he had a way of putting everyone around him at ease.

“Oh, nonsense,” he said.  “You’ll be with us for a good long while my dear.  We are blessed to have you back with us.”  He looked up at me and smiled.  “For now, Madame, Pastor Charlie and I will let you get some rest.  I’m sure you’ll have plenty of other visitors before the day is over.”

We both headed to the door as the Bishop looked at me.

“How about lunch, Pastor Charlie?  Raising the dead always gives me quite an appetite.”

Chapter 8

Even though it was still rather early, I was hungrier than I originally thought.  We found a little café in town.  I hoped to learn as much about my new friend as possible over lunch.  Watching him with people was amazing.  I had always done well blending in, but I had to work at it.  For him, it all looked so natural.  In the short time I’d been with him, people just gravitated to him as if he were made of cotton candy or something.  It still didn’t seem right to me.  Man of God or not, no one can be that pleasant all the time, especially someone in ministry.

All members of the clergy had some kind of secret-no matter who you are or how big your church.  Ted Haggard had methamphetamine and gay prostitutes; Jimmy Swaggart just had prostitutes, Jim Jones had Kool-Aid, but that’s another story in itself.  Many ministers, like my former assistant, just liked to look at porn.. In the world of Christendom, porn was a huge no-no.  I thought it was an interesting double-standard, though.  A person could be an alcoholic, drug addict, or even a convicted felon, and the church would embrace him and pray for him, and guide him to healing.  If you liked pornography, though, forget it---- away with you, and hide the women and children. Of course, I guess could say that interest in could go too far, and that was what lead to situations with prostitutes and extra-marital affairs.

Everyone has heard about the Catholic Church scandal with priests abusing children. Some ministers were just plain thieves.  I knew one pastor whose wife was embezzling money from her job so he could buy computers and sell them on the side for dirt cheap.  It was all profit, after all.  I guess they viewed it as a way to supplement their income. Then,  there are the preachers who turn their church into some huge multi-media commercial enterprise.

Then there was me.  Granted, most would be horrified if they knew my secret.  That is only because they wouldn’t understand.  What I do is important, and it is just.  It’s not like I’m out running around killing people at random.  God exposes their sin, points it out to me, and I make it right.  The world is a better place because of what I do.  God’s kingdom cannot grow until the trash is taken out.  Which led to my current dilemma: who is the Bishop, and how does he fit into all this?

We found a table in the corner. The waitress took our orders as soon as we were seated.  The Bishop ordered a chicken salad sandwich, and I ordered a BLT.  As we ate, I don’t think he ever stopped smiling.  He was really starting to creep me out.

“So,” I began, “tell me about your ministry.  Do you have a church?”

He shook his head as he sipped his iced tea.

“Not anymore,” he said.  “I did for years.  Back east. It. It was a small Presbyterian fellowship.  They were wonderful people.”

“So what happened?”

“Age happened.  The congregation was getting younger.  I’m getting older.  They wanted to go in new directions and try new things.  I didn’t see anything wrong with the way we were doing things.  After some time and tension, I moved on.”

“That makes sense.  What do you do now?  What brings you here?”

“After I left, I founded I Am the Way Ministries.  Now I travel around the world and do exactly what Jesus told us all to do.  We heal the sick, and feed the poor.”  He was doing the talking-with- his- hands- thing again.

“Sounds fascinating,” I nodded.

“It is, very much so.  Leading a church has a lot of restrictions.  You’re stuck in a building and limited to taking care of your flock, doing hospital visits, writing sermons and lessons.  Now, I visit people around the world, and everyone is my flock.  I help whoever God puts in my path.  Such as yourself, for example.”

Oh boy.

“Myself?”

“Yes, Pastor.  I don’t believe it is any accident that we met.  Do you?” I wasn’t sure what he was getting at.

“Uh, I guess not.” I said.

“Well, of course it’s not.  God puts people in our paths for a reason.  What that reason is yet, it’s hard to say.  Could be for my benefit more than your own, or vice-versa.”  He stopped and took a sip of his tea.  I must have been staring off into space.

“Everything okay?” He asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine.  I was wondering, do you do your ministry all by yourself?”

“Oh, not at all.  It’s always good to have some help and accountability in any ministry.  I have various associates who help me. Sometimes locals in a given town will assist me as well.  I try to include as many as possible.”

This guy sounded untouchable.  I was sure that wasn’t by accident.  He was up to something for sure, but no way to tell what his plan was.  I knew I had plenty of homework to do if I was going to figure this out, but I needed some sleep first.  I’d barely slept in the last few days.

“It was very nice visiting with you, Bishop,” I said.  “But I have got to get some rest.  I’ve had a hectic last few days.”

“Oh, yes.  I know that feeling indeed.  A minister’s work is never done!!  I should let you go as well.  You have your own flock to tend to.  I have some more people to see today, and then I’ll check back in on Mrs. Woods.  Lovely lady, she is.”  He stood and placed his money on the table.

“Thank you, Bishop,” I said, as I put my hand out.  He shook it, still smiling, of course.  I left the café and drove back to my apartment.  Pulling all the curtains closed, I slipped off my shoes and changed out of my suit and into a t-shirt and shorts.  I was so exhausted I could hardly see straight.  I jotted down some notes about the Bishop so I wouldn’t forget them later.  My head hit the pillow and I closed my eyes.  I hoped to fall right asleep, but my brain wouldn’t shut off.  Thoughts about the Bishop, David Davidson, my place in God’s plan, the Bishop’s plans, whatever they were, they would have to wait until later.  Sleep finally took me before any other thoughts could take hold.

Chapter 9

When I sat up I was sitting in a church, but it wasn’t my church.  My mother was sitting in the pew next to me.  Looking down at myself, I saw that I was just a boy, about twelve years old.  The preacher was up front, preaching about sin and judgment.  He told us that God knows all of our sins, no matter what we thought we got away with; God sees and knows all.  We can fool people, but we can never fool God.  He went on to tell us how the punishment for this sin is death.  Not just physical death, either.  Your body might die, but then there is spiritual death, more commonly known as Hell.  Hell is a place of eternal suffering and torment, no relief, no breaks and no escape.

I got up during the service and walked outside.  There was a little boy lying on the ground.  He was covered in blood; most of it around his face and neck.  The boy was my little brother Tommy, but Tommy had died when I was little.  Standing over him was a large Rottweiler that growled and glared at Tommy.  The dog had blood dripping from its mouth; it had just killed my brother and now it was looking at me.  It began to circle me, growling as the hair on its back stood on end.

I stood completely still.  I should have ran away screaming as fast as I could, but for some reason I just stayed there, moving only my eyes, watching the creature circling me.  Its growl turned into a guttural rumble as it stared me down.  I realized there was something in my hand. I looked down and saw I was holding a sword.  Was that there a minute ago? I couldn’t remember.  The sword was long and had a double-sided blade.  It was something a knight would have used in battle.

Behind the dog was another creature, this one much larger.  The thing stood at least ten feet tall.  A large set of wings appeared from behind it. They were leathery white and stretched out twenty feet or more.  The entire thing was surrounded by bright light.  There was a sword in its hand, too, much larger than mine.  The sword was almost as long as I was tall.  I knew the creature had to be an angel.  It nodded to me as the dog circled.

The dog stopped circling and faced me.  It bore its bloody teeth in a wicked snarl and stared me down.. I gripped the sword and held it up, making eye contact with the dog as I did so.  Before I knew what to do, it jumped at me.

I shot awake in my bed, covered in sweat.  I looked around my room making sure I was my usual self again.  My phone said it was two in the morning when I checked it.  I’d been asleep for several hours, but not sure I could sleep again after that dream.  My brother Tommy had really been killed by a neighbor’s Rottweiler.  I was only twelve at the time, but it was still fresh in my mind.

The neighbors kept the dog tied up outside all day and night.  One day after school it had gotten loose.  I think it finally got tired of being ignored and just chewed its way through the rope.  Tommy was only nine and was outside playing at the time.  When he saw the dog, he started to run which only triggered the thing to attack.  It caught up to him easily and pounced on him, going right for his throat.  He was dead before he knew what hit him.

It was state law at the time to put down any dog that seriously harmed or killed a person.  The local police couldn’t find the dog, however.  It ran off into a field near our house, probably heading into the woods nearby.  Police searched for it, but not very hard.  My parents didn’t give the dog another thought.  The pastor met up with them at the hospital where Tommy was pronounced dead.

I couldn’t leave it at that, though.  That thing had just killed my brother in cold blood. Yes, it was just an animal and didn’t know better, but I didn’t care.  I knew the Bible, and the Bible called for an eye for an eye.  I hadn’t gone to the hospital with my parents.  They were too deeply in shock to make me go along.  Instead, I grabbed a butcher knife from our kitchen and headed out toward the woods.  It was getting dark by the time I reached them.  They were quiet and peaceful, but I knew something deadly was creeping around out there.

Slowly, I moved between the trees, keeping my eyes and ears open.  My footsteps breaking sticks were the only sounds at all.  I jumped at the fluttering of wings above me.  I must have scared some birds.  The woods were a place I didn’t venture to very often, so I was worried about getting lost if I went on for too long.  But my fears were unfounded.  After twenty minutes of searching, I heard it.

The dog growled at me from behind some trees maybe thirty feet away.  I slowly moved toward it.  I wasn’t going to run like Tommy did.  Running meant death, and there had been enough of that today.  After I’d gone about ten feet, it stepped out from behind the tree, moving toward me.  It was like a Wild West showdown, except it was just teeth, claws and a knife.  I gripped the knife tightly with my fingers as I got closer and closer.  I would take a step, then the dog, then me.

Finally the dog just started running toward me.  He must have thought I’d be an easy kill like my brother had been.  He lunged at me, knocking me off my feet.  The thing must have weighed a hundred pounds. At twelve years old, I wasn’t much more than that myself.  Its teeth were near my face, its hot breath that smelled like blood and flesh burning my nostrils.  I tried to push its nose away from me but it snapped at my hand.  I got it away just in time, as it made its move toward my neck.  I shifted and it sank its teeth into my shoulder.  Crying out in pain, I started to pull away as it dug them in deeper.   That only hurt worse, so I started to beat it on the side of the head with my free hand. My. My knife hand was pinned underneath me.

That didn’t have any effect whatsoever.  Pain shot up my shoulder, through my neck and down my arm.  I tried to wiggle the knife free in that hand, but it hurt too much.  Moving only made the dog’s grip tighten further.  I pushed my shoulder toward it, moving into the bite.  This caused it to let go to readjust its grip.  That gave me the opening I needed to pull my free.  My arm was sore and throbbing with pain, but before the dog could bite down again, I thrust the knife into its abdomen.  It let out a howl as the knife went in.  Blood shot out, spraying my already blood-soaked hand.

It turned toward my face, blood and saliva running off its teeth and mouth.  The dog snarled and growled.  I knew it was about to go for my face or neck and this time it wouldn’t miss.  I rotated the knife in its stomach, twisting and turning it every which way.  It moved its head back a few inches, preparing to strike.  I pulled the knife free from its stomach.  The dog snapped toward my face, about to tear my throat out for sure.  Before it connected, I thrust the knife through its neck and pulled it free.  Hot blood sprayed my face as the dog yelped and slumped onto its side.

I stood there with the dog at my feet. It twitched as the life oozed out of it.  I was totally soaked with blood.  I couldn’t tell which blood was mine and which was the dog’s.  The wound on its stomach was open so wide its entrails had spilled partially onto the ground.  I’d gutted the thing like a pig and I felt good.  I felt good. I was breathing hard, and was still holding the knife. I felt like a warrior.   My shoulder didn’t even hurt at this point.  I should have been in severe pain, but the rush of the kill took over.

“Charlie!  Charlie?” It was my father, shouting my name.  He was probably worried sick.  No telling what he would think when he saw me like this.  He’d already lost one son that day.  I yelled back so he could find me.

“I’m here Dad!  I’m okay!”

I heard branches and sticks breaking as he ran through the woods.

“Where?  I can’t see you!”!”

“Over here!  Can you hear me?”

He kept running and after a few minutes I saw his flashlight approaching.  I waved and could tell he saw me.

“Charlie, thank God. We were—“…” He stopped when he saw me covered in blood.  Looking down he saw the dead dog at my feet.  “My God.  What happened, son?  Are you okay?”

“He killed Tommy, so I killed him.  An eye for an eye.”

“Are you okay? You’re bleeding.” He moved toward me and put his arm around me.

“He got my arm good, but I think I’m okay,” I said.

“Let’s get you cleaned up and get you to the hospital.” He saw the knife and looked at me.  I dropped it as he made eye contact.  “We can talk on the way there.  I’m glad you’re alright.”

I knew he was glad, but I could tell he was scared.

Chapter 10

I couldn’t get back to sleep after that dream, so I decided to do some research on my new friend.  My laptop was in my bag next to the bed.  I pulled it out and logged on to Google for a search.  I found a site for I Am the Way Ministries.  There were a few other listings as well.  It looked like it had started out as a blog on MySpace several years ago, but the Bishop had expanded it.  Now it had an official website that looked professionally done.  There was a large photo of the Bishop smiling, of course.

The homepage had links to typical ministry stuff.  There was a mission statement, an “about us” link, and, the expected a link for donations.  No ministry would be anything without a means for people to give it money.  The mission statement at the top of the page was from John 14:6:

I am the way, the truth and the life.  No man comes to the Father but by me.  I Am the Way Ministries is dedicated to following Jesus’ example of healing the sick, feeding the poor and ministering to all so they may know the love of Jesus Christ.

I clicked on some of the links only to find more photos of the Bishop.  One of them showed him in Africa giving out food to children.  Another showed him with a tool belt on top of a building being  worked on somewhere.  I finally found his full name on one of the pages.  His name was Lionel Hoover.  I tried to search for him but found very little.  There was a website from his old church but it hadn’t been updated in three years.  I figured I would leave it at that.  If he was as smart as I thought he was, there wouldn’t be much information about him out there.  I wouldn’t imagine some disciple of Satan would leave much of a digital footprint.

I was walking  to the refrigerator when it happened.  God began speaking to me.  I never knew when or how it would happen, but it always took me by surprise.  First, I would feel lightheaded as the room began to spin.  My whole body started feeling warm, then hot until sweat poured down my face and chest.  I trembled and had to sit on the floor in the kitchen. When I closed my eyes I saw what God wanted me to see.  My next sinner.

She was a woman who lived in San Antonio named Nancy Martinez.  I saw her sitting in a rocking chair holding a beautiful baby boy, yet she was crying.  She stood and placed him in his crib. When God shows me these visions, I usually feel as if everything is actually happening.  I had no doubt this was the case here.  It felt as if I was in the baby’s room right next to Nancy. I wanted to stop her, to reach out and take that innocent baby from her.  But I couldn’t.  This was the worst, during every vision.  I’ve watched people do horrible things, and was helpless to intervene.  I don’t know why God didn’t have me try to stop them, but mine was not to question his will.

Once the baby was in the crib, he began to cry.  Then Nancy cried even harder.  She placed her hand over her mouth, trying to hold it in.

“Stop it!” She shouted, but the baby kept crying.  “I said stop it!  Now!  Shut up!”

She reached into the crib and placed her hand on the back of his head as he lie on his stomach.  She began pushing his face into the mattress.  He continued to cry, but his cries were muffled.  After a minute, he was silent.  She held him like that for another minute before letting go.  He was dead. She. She had smothered him.  She walked back to the chair and sat down, pulling out a pack of cigarettes from the pocket on her housecoat.  Smoke filled the room as she lit one and stared at the ceiling, taking drags off her cigarette the same way a person might after sex.

The warmth and dizziness went away as I snapped out of it.  I was back in my kitchen looking around.  It always took me a few minutes to get my wits about me after one of my visions.  One thing I did know, God had just given me another mission.  I knew what needed to be done, and there was no time to waste.  My laptop was back in the bedroom; I went back in and opened it back up.  There was always a bit of research that needed to be done before I carried out God’s work.  God revealed many things to me about the sinners, and what He didn’t reveal, Google did.  I was also subscribed to some public records search engines. .

I found Nancy’s address as well as some other basic information.  I had to get dressed so I could head out as soon as possible.  That was the plan, at least, until my phone went off.  It was Roger’s number, probably his wife, but what would she want?

“Hello?” I said into the speaker.

“Pastor Charlie?  It’s Tricia Quinn, Roger’s wife.”

“Yes, Tricia, how can I help you?”

“Roger never came home Sunday night.  I’ve been calling all over and no one has seen him.  His car was in the alley down the road from our house, but no sign of him.”

“That’s crazy,” I said, trying to sound concerned but without overdoing it. “Have you called the police?”

“I did. They came out took a report along with some pictures of his car.  But there was nothing unusual, they said.  Since he is an adult and there’re no signs of violence, they said there is nothing much they can do.”  I could tell she was crying but trying to hold it in.

“That’s it?”

“I know.  It’s driving me crazy.  In twenty-five years of marriage he has never not come home without calling or anything.  His phone has been off since Sunday night.”  She paused and took a breath.  “The stupid cops said maybe he ran away with some girl!  Can you believe that?   Assholes!”  I’d never heard her swear before, but it was understandable under the circumstances.  “I’m so sorry, Pastor.  I just don’t know what to do.  I’m scared something awful has happened.”  I couldn’t believe it. Her husband was missing, and she was worried about using a bad word.

“It’s okay Tricia.  Is there anything I can do? I could stop by later today if you like.  Or would you rather I call someone for you?”

“Yes, that would be nice.  His mom is here, we could use some prayer, Pastor Charlie.  I’m so scared.”

“It’s okay to be scared.  I’ll be there in a few hours.”

After hanging up I saw it was almost five o’clock in the morning.  I figured I could jump in the shower and go visit Tricia.  I would have to take care of Nancy a little later.  One inconvenience about being a pastor is getting called away at all hours of the day.  It was hard enough for meme as it was.  I couldn’t imagine some pastors with wives and kids to deal with as well.  Then again, most of them didn’t have the additional calling I had.

As I got in the shower I planned the routine for the day.  Go see Tricia and pray with her and her mother in law.  Then I had to get to the chapel and prepare everything for Nancy Martinez, and from there go get Nancy and perform the ritual.  As long as nothing else strange came up, it should all go well.  What a busy day ahead.

Chapter 11

Tricia Quinn and her mother-in-law sat crying and holding each other on the couch across from me.  Her mother in law’s name was Margaret.  She was in her seventies, but dyed her hair brown.  The house was small but well kept.  Their kids were grown, so Tricia just took care of the home while Roger would work.

“Thank you for coming Pastor Charlie,” She said.  Margaret nodded as well.

“It’s no problem at all.  Roger is a good man.  I’m sure he’ll turn up somewhere.”

“I just have a horrible feeling.  I can’t seem to shake it.”

“That’s just Satan trying to scare you, to make you lose faith," I told her.  It was total bullshit and I knew it, but what else could I say?

She just nodded and then we all joined hands as I prayed with them.  I did take some comfort in all this knowing that no one had seen me grab Roger.  It was a high risk mission, but all went well.  I hugged both her and her mother-in-law as I prepared to leave.  They needed some time alone.  The next few months would not be easy for them, the longer Roger remained missing.              I really cannot express how awkward it was comforting the wife of a man who I had just killed, dismembered, dissolved, and then poured down the drain like last night’s dirty dishwater. This is where my gift of emptiness came in handy.  When I was in elementary school, I heard a school nurse tell my dad I had a “flat affect”.  It meant just that---- I look flat, unemotional, hollow.  Not much I could do about it except fake it when the need arose.  Tricia’s house was one of those times.  I could only sit in awkward silence for so long.  I was just about to the door when there was a knock.

“Do I know you?” Tricia said as she answered the door.  She didn’t, but I did.  I felt the temperature drop about ten degrees.

“I don’t believe so.  My name is Bishop Hoover.  I’m so sorry if I’m intruding.   I’m new to the area and recently heard about your husband.  I just wanted to see if there was anything I could do?” He was smiling as usual.

“Why thank you; that’s very kind.  I don’t know of anything you could do. The police are working on it, and Pastor Charlie is here.”

“Oh yes, Pastor Charlie is a good man.  You’re in good hands with him, Mrs. Quinn.”

She smiled slightly.

“Why, thank you. And, yes, he is.”

“Well, I won’t be a bother.  I must go anyway.  I’ll be praying for you and your family.”

“Thank you so much, Bishop.”

I figured this would be a good time for some reconnaissance on my new friend.  It wasn’t in the day’s plan, but sometimes one needs to improvise.  I told Tricia I needed to check on some other folks and excused myself.  It was a hot day, so when I climbed in my Tahoe I almost burned my hands on the steering wheel.  That’s typical of South Texas during the summer.  The Bishop was already a block down the road in his black Lincoln.  I followed him from a safe distance.  I had tailed many people in the past, so I knew how to avoid detection.  It’s not a typical skill for a pastor, but one I had acquired nonetheless.

We wound through side streets for at least twenty minutes.  I wasn’t sure where he was going.  He pulled onto the ramp and onto the freeway headed into San Antonio.  We drove for forty five more minutes and got off the freeway on the northeast side of town.  He pulled into a little motel.  It looked rather rundown for this part of the city.  He got out of the Lincoln and knocked on one of the doors on the first floor.  After a minute another man answered.

The man at the door was much shorter, and was wiry compared to the Bishop, who was tall and had a commanding presence.  The little man was also wearing a black suit.  I had no idea who this could have been.  Maybe it was some freaky gay encounter big preachers get busted doing.  If that’s the case, then I needed to get my camera ready.  After a few minutes they came out of the motel room, but there were three of them this time.  A taller man with a shaved head was with them. Both men with the Bishop looked like a couple of goons.  Maybe he had bodyguards.  They all got into the Lincoln and began driving again.  This was getting more interesting.

They drove some more as I followed, winding through the downtown area of San Antonio.  After ten minutes they pulled into the parking lot of a small church.  It was an independent Baptist church in a tiny white building.  They walked in through the front door as if they owned the place.  I looked around to see if there was anyone outside who might see me.  When I was sure it was clear, I got out of the Tahoe.

I ran alongside the church and tried my best to look inconspicuous.  Looking sneaky would only draw attention in the broad daylight.  There were some windows along the side of the building.  I looked through each of them until I found what must have been the pastor’s office.  The blinds were partially open, so I could see the man sitting behind a desk.  The Bishop and his men were standing across from him talking.  The Bishop was smiling, but no one else was.  The church pastor was an older man with thick white hair.  He looked more frightened than anything.  The two goons were flanking the Bishop with their arms crossed.  It looked like a shakedown I’d seen in some mafia movie.

After a few minutes the old man stood up, but the two goons stepped toward him as he talked frantically while pointing his finger.  The short goon took out a Taser and shot the old man with it.  He flopped back into his leather office chair and gyrated before sliding onto the floor.  Short goon walked over and pulled the man back up into his chair.  He looked dazed as he tried to regain his bearings.  His eyes were wide, but he was helpless to move or do anything.  Part of me wanted to intervene, but I couldn’t just yet.  I had to see what the Bishop was about.

The Bishop walked over to the man and placed his hand on his forehead.  He spoke something as the old man began kicking and twitching in his seat.  The Bishop’s grip didn’t look that firm, but the old man was helpless against it.  After a few seconds, the Bishop moved away.  I could see the old man had blood oozing from his eyes and nose as his mouth gaped open.  His bloody eyes stared lifelessly up at the ceiling.  I had no idea what exactly had just happened, but I figured it was time to get out of there.

Running back to the Tahoe, I managed to pull out before the Bishop and his men came outside.  I had no doubt that the Bishop was the man Davidson had warned me about.  Problem was, I had no idea what to do about it.  It was too much to process at the moment.  It was time to go find Nancy Martinez.  Doing God’s work always helped me clear my head.

Chapter 12

As I drove, I thought back to that night when I was twelve after I killed the dog.  My dad had driven  me to the emergency room.  I was covered in blood that was staining the seats of his car.  He didn’t seem to mind, though.  My dad was never a big car nut.  If I remember right, some of that blood never did come out.

“Son, I’m very proud of you,” he said as he drove.  “You scared me to death.  But I’m still proud of you.”

I sat quietly; I remembered starting to feel really tired all of a sudden.  It was the adrenaline letting loose.  What my dad was saying still registered though.

“You are?” I asked.

“Of course I am.  There’s something I need to tell you.  We wanted to tell you when you were old enough.  After today, I think you are ready.”

“Tell me what?”

“When you were a baby, you had gotten very sick for a few days.  It started out as just a cough, but it got really bad.  One night we decided to take you to the hospital.  On the way there, you’d stopped breathing.  Your mother was in a complete panic.  It was an awful night, cold and rainy.  I knew we weren’t going to make it on time.  The hospital was still almost ten minutes away.”

“What did you do?”

“The only thing I could do.  I pulled over, put my hands on you and prayed.  I begged God to save you.  I told him if He saved your life that we would dedicate you to Him.  We’d prepare you for a life doing His work.  After I prayed, you began crying.  The sickness was gone completely.”

I wasn’t even sure what to say.  How does a twelve-year-old respond to being told his life is dedicated to a higher purpose?

“Tonight was proof that God is working in your life.  You’re a warrior son.”

“I am?”

“Just look at yourself.  Of course you are.  Tonight with that vicious dog?  It was like a modern David and Goliath.  That dog should have torn you apart.  Yet you found a way to kill it.  Now no one will ever be hurt by that thing again.”

He had a point.  It was all quite overwhelming.  Dedicated to God, David and Goliath? It was a lot for a kid, but I tried not to get a big head.

Several years later when I was in high school, I was coming back from Bible study when my car got a flat tire in downtown San Antonio.  It was late at night and I was under an overpass.  I got out and started to change it when I heard a woman scream.

I ran toward the scream.  It was around the corner from the overpass.  When I got there, a man was standing outside of a parked car.  He had a woman by the hair and was pulling her out through the driver’s side window.  I ran over to try and stop him.

“Hey!” I yelled.  “Get away from her!”

The man turned.  He was wearing a dark jacket and had a diamond stud earring.

“This ain’t none of your business man.  Now get the fuck outta here!”

He went back to pulling on the woman’s hair as if I was just an annoyance.  The woman kept screaming as he yanked her further out of the window.  By then she was almost halfway out.  At a loss for what to do, I ran up and punched him in the stomach.  It didn’t have much effect, but he let go of the woman and turned to me.

“Shit, kid, now you just fucked up.  I’m gonna beat your ass now.”

“No you’re not.” I said.  I was horrified at first.  My hands were shaking as sweat started down my forehead.  The man came toward me and took a swing.  His fist connected with my forehead, knocking me backward.  I fell flat on the ground as he stood over me.

“Get up bitch!  What you gonna do?”  He kicked me in the side before I could move.  While the punch and kick hurt, I was more stunned than in actual pain.  I climbed to my knees and made it back to my feet.  He stood waiting for me to regain my composure.  I could tell he wanted to fight.  The women had driven off by this time.  Hopefully to get help, but I wasn’t counting on it.

The man swung at me again; this; this time I was ready, and moved out of the way.  I hadn’t had any real training in fighting skills.  He swung again and I side stepped this one.  But he connected on the next blow, right to the side of my face.  I kept to my feet this time though.  I had no doubt that this was a fight to the death.  Just like the dog when I was twelve, here at the age of seventeen, I was in another fight for my life.

The man swung again, this time, I ducked and swung back, hitting him in the stomach, then followed with a quick upper cut that caught his chin.  He was too big and I knew I couldn’t beat him head-to-head in his kind of fight.  He laughed as the blows connected.

“Oh there you go, little girl.  Now you got some fight in you.” He swung again, hitting me right in the nose.  I felt something pop as blood sprayed everywhere.  Pain shot through my whole body and things got fuzzy.  He hit me in the face again, and again, and again.  I went to my knees, dazed.  He was going to kill me.

“C’mon bitch! I thought you was gonna fight?”  He grabbed the back of my head and slammed me face first into the street.  He did it repeatedly.  I couldn’t believe I was still conscious.  Then something came over me, something hard to explain.  The pain went away, the fear went away, and it was just me and this man.  I flopped to the ground and lie there motionless.  The man kicked me a few more times and then knelt down next to me.  He was about to finish me off.

“You see what happens when you get into other people’s business?  You cost me a piece of ass tonight.  So you gonna die.” He placed his hand on the back of my head again.  This time I grabbed him and struck him in the face with the palm of my hand.  I could see the shock on his face that I was even moving.  The blow itself wasn’t that strong.  The shock went away after a few seconds and I could tell he was about to really go nuts.

I jumped to my feet and punched him in the face several times.  None of them were very hard, but enough to distract him.  He lunged at me and I stepped out of the way and jumped onto his back.  I locked my arm around his neck in a choke hold as I wrapped my legs around his waist and held on for dear life.  He ran and thrashed about as I sank my grip in tighter and tighter.  After a couple of minutes, he slowed down, barely getting his arms over his head.  Then he went to his knees.  I stayed on my feet but kept the choke hold in place.  His body began to sag and finally went totally limp.  I continued to hold on for another minute to make sure he was gone.

I let go of his lifeless body and looked down at him.  I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to feel, but I didn’t feel anything other than relief.  It was still dark and I was amazed no one had even driven by.  From there, I wasn’t sure what to do.  So I ran back to my car and drove home.  As I drove home it began to rain.  I realized years later that the rain would have washed away any DNA or evidence I may have left behind.  It was God protecting his warrior.

That was my first human kill.  Not nearly as neat and tidy as my work now, but you have to start somewhere.

I was about to reach Nancy Martinez’s house when I saw it; the Bishop’s car sitting across the street from her place.  I kept driving and looped around the block.  This was going to mess up my plans, big time.  That guy was everywhere.

Chapter 13

Not sure what else to do, I sat a block down from Nancy’s house and kept an eye out.  It was the middle of the day, but I was used to keeping a low profile during the day.  The Tahoe had tinted windows so that helped a lot.  The worse thing was nosy neighbors coming up asking what you were doing.  It would be even worse if they were to call the cops to check me out, so I turned the Tahoe off and moved to the backseat where I couldn’t be seen.  It was really too hot to be sitting in a parked car, but this was the kind of sacrifice that came with the territory.              After a few minutes, the Bishop came walking out with Nancy Martinez behind him.  In Nancy’s arms was a baby, the same one I had seen her kill.  They all got into his Lincoln and drove off.  This day was quickly becoming unproductive.  Instead of doing more following, I decided to head back to the church.  I figured I needed to check in and see if anything new was going on.

When I got back to the church, Jeff Garza, my assistant pastor, was standing outside.  He also ran the youth group and was in charge of the worship band.  I sometimes wondered if the church really needed me.  The kids loved Jeff since he was practically still a kid himself.  He was twenty-five, yet looked sixteen.  Even with his shirt and tie on, he looked like a kid who raided his dad’s wardrobe.  He was talking to some ladies from the congregation out front when I pulled up.

“Charlie!  Did you hear?” He yelled as he ran up to me.

“Hear what?”

“The Bishop!  He can raise the dead!”

Oh, here we go.

“Yes I know. I met him.”

“You met him?  Are you serious?” Jeff’s eyes lit up, and the women started bombarding me with questions.  I wasn’t even sure who these ladies were.  I had just seen them around the church a few times.  Regardless, I had too much on my mind to hold a press conference about the Bishop.

“Yes, we had lunch yesterday.  Everything happened yesterday anyway.  I figured everyone heard about it by now.  Or is  there something else going on?”

“Well, Vanessa here said he is gonna have a meeting tomorrow night.  Everyone is invited.  It’s gonna be like a healing service.  Kind of like an old fashioned tent revival!” Jeff answered. “That’s just what this community needs!  The Spirit will be at work tomorrow!”  The kid’s voice was actually cracked as he spoke, as if he’d just hit puberty.  I gathered that Vanessa was the short blonde standing next to him.  I’d only seen her around once or twice.  I would have normally found the whole thing funny, except that I realized how it all made sense--the Bishop was building a following.  He would come in, perform a few miracles, get people worked up with some big revivals and before you know it, the Bishop’s like the pied piper, leading everyone out of their churches and into his. And, along with them, the money and manpower that kept the individual churches in business.

I needed to find out what his plan was. What. What did he want?  No doubt, I’d learn a few things at the revival.  That gave me some time to sort things out.  I was still fuming about him getting to Nancy Martinez first.  Could God be speaking to him too?  If so, that would be a pretty sick joke.  Questions began to fill my mind.  It would be nice if I could speak to David Davidson again, but that didn’t seem likely.

I could try to find Davidson, but he was like a ghost.  Our last encounter was only because he chose to seek me out.  He left no contact information and had no identifying characteristics or information I could use to track him down, other than his weird name. That wouldn’t get me very far on Google. My followers might suggest I pray for guidance in this situation. But, prayer for me was a funny thing. Of course I publically prayed as would be expected of a pastor. But privately, for myself, I didn’t pray the same way others did. I didn’t sit and ask God for things.  I figured He knew everything I needed.  The Bible says ask and you shall receive, but I wasn’t like everyone else.  I was the Hand of God.  He would keep me steady and provide for my needs.

I went into my office and opened my laptop.  Using Google and Yahoo, I did a few people searches looking for David Davidson.  Oddly enough it was a fairly common name.  The San Antonio area has around 2 million people so that makes finding anyone even harder.  I closed the laptop and rubbed my eyes.  The last few days had been crazy and it was giving me a headache.  I would have to wait until the revival tomorrow night to get some real answers.

Chapter 14

When Wednesday night rolled around, the whole town was buzzing with excitement.  People were curious about the Bishop and rumors were flying. Some thought he was a prophet; others were skeptical and thought he was out for money.  I was sure it was neither, but hoped to find out.  I went ahead and canceled our Wednesday night services since half the town would be at the revival.  The other half didn’t bother with Wednesday night church anyway.

The revival was held at a large field just outside of town.  There was already a line of cars backed up for at least half a mile.  After sitting in traffic another half hour, I finally got to park in the field.  The tent was huge, and looked similar to a circus big top.  I wasn’t even sure where you’d find a tent that size.  As I approached the line of people standing outside, several recognized me and came over to greet me.

“Hey, Pastor Charlie!”  It was Lee.  Of course he was there.. I just wasn’t in the mood to hear him theorize about the Bishop.  I was going to hear it, though.

“Hi Lee. How’s it going?”

“Great!  I’m ready for the Lord to do some amazing things tonight!”

“Me too, Lee,” I looked around trying to take in the setup.  There were men in suits at the entrance seating people.  I saw one of the Bishop’s goons near the front.  I entertained the thought of going up to the Bishop and saying hello just to see if I could get a feel for what the goons were up to. I already knew whatever it was, it was no good..  Though I already knew it was no good.  Either way, I decided against the straightforward approach.  Nothing good would come of that.

“Excuse me, Lee,” I said before he could get started rambling too much.  “I need to check on something.”  I left him hanging mid-sentence and began to work my way through the crowd. It was a humid evening, and way too hot to be wearing a suit.  There were several large fans placed throughout the tent.  There were also coolers filled with ice and bottled water.  At least the Bishop didn’t want anyone keeling over from heat stroke during the service.

I worked my way toward the front of the stage.  The short goon was there talking to someone.  Before I could reach him a woman stepped in front of me.

“Hello sir, could you take a seat please?”  She looked to be in her thirties with red hair and was wearing a blue, flowery summer dress.

“Sure.  I just needed to ask that man a question real quick.”

“I’m sorry.  No one is allowed near the stage.  I will tell him you’d like to speak with him, though.”

“It’s very important.  I know he works for the Bishop.  I just need to—“

“Is there a problem here?” The short goon said.  I hadn’t seen him walk up behind her.

“This man says he needs to speak with you,” she,” she said.

The goon was Latino. He. He was stockier close up and had a perpetual scowl.  His name tag read Jesus.  Under different circumstances I would have found that funny.

“My name is Pastor Charlie Sims.  I’m a friend of the Bishop’s.  I was wondering if I could speak to him for a moment.” I began to walk toward the stage as I spoke.

“I’m sorry.  He’s preparing for tonight’s service.” Jesus firmly pressed his hand against my chest.

“I just want to say hello.. I won’t keep him long.” I said.

“I said, he’s busy,” he stepped toward me.  “He is not taking visitors right now.”  The tall goon walked over when he saw the commotion.  His name tag said Jeremiah.  They had the whole biblical name thing down, that’s for sure.  Jeremiah was white, and had a scar on the left side of his face.  This made me wonder if one or both of these guys were ex-cons.

“What seems to be the problem?” Jeremiah asked.

I gave up, not wanting to make a scene.

“Nothing,” I said.  “I was just going to my seat.  Thank you.”

I could feel their eyes on me as I turned and walked away.  People were now filling their seats.  I found a spot in one of the middle rows near some older couple and a young family.  Within twenty minutes or so the place had filled up.  There were people standing up along the back of the tent and in the aisles.  Ushers were pushing people in wheelchairs to a roped off section in the front.  There were plenty of people there I didn’t’ recognize.  This told me people from the city and maybe even further away came out for the show.

Finally the lights went out and everything went dark.  After a couple minutes, people began muttering among themselves wondering what was going on.  It remained dark for almost ten minutes, pitch black.  I figured this was part of the Bishop’s theatrics.  I knew I was right when music began to play.  It started out quietly at first and then got louder.  I recognized the music; it was Ecstasy of Gold, from an old western. The music had an epic sound to it; fitting for the Bishop.

The crowd got quiet as a light came on behind the stage, then smoke appeared.  As the music got louder and worked to its buildup, a silhouette of a man appeared, rising from the stage.  People began to cheer.  The man held his arms out to his sides.  The cheering got louder as the music reached its climax.  The crowd rose to its feet and the man thrust his arms into the air.  The music stopped and the stage lights came on, illuminating the Bishop.

He was wearing a white suit this time along with a headset that included a microphone.  He smiled at the crowd, which was still cheering.

“Thank you my brothers and sisters!  Thank you!  Amen!  God bless every single one of you for coming out tonight!  God is going to do amazing things here!  Prepare to be blessed beyond measure!”  He jumped as he said the last line and the crowd roared.  It was show time.

Chapter 15

The service-or show was more like it- was nothing short of spectacular.  The Bishop jumped around on stage as he preached his message of hope, faith and healing.  I wasn’t sure how the old guy had so much energy, but there he was.  You’d have thought he was a rock star.

“My brothers and sisters, God is doing amazing things in town!  In the past week alone, two people have come back from the dead!”  People cheered while shouting “Amen,” “Hallelujah,” and other shouts of praise.  This was one thing that always scared me about being in ministry.  Religion, more than anything, was susceptible to a mob mentality.  In most cases it was downright scary.

It would start with someone seeing or hearing about some miracle, and the next thing you know it has spread like wildfire.  People would start going crazy over whatever it was and the stuff just kept feeding and growing.  In almost every case, the minister or prophet turns out to be a fake, or else people would just get bored and move on to the next big thing.  Either way, in my own preaching I always tried to avoid sensationalism.  A few years ago in Lakeland, Florida there was a big deal about some prophet down there who was doing healings, resurrections and everything else.  Half the churches in the country thought it was real, the other half thought he was a fake, and there were some scattered few thinking he was a false prophet sent by Satan.  Well, he got busted having some kind of affair with his secretary, and the whole thing fizzled out.  The Bishop had a different feel to him though.  I was sure he wasn’t a fake. I just didn’t know what he was. `

“Who here is in need of healing tonight?” he asked the crowd.  They all cheered again as he walked toward the wheelchair section.  He climbed down from the stage to a little boy sitting in the front row.  The boy was seated in a wheelchair and wearing a Houston baseball cap.  A man came up and handed the Bishop a microphone.  He knelt down and asked the boy his name.

“Brandon, sir” the boy said into the microphone.

“Well hello Brandon,” The Bishop put his hand on the boy’s shoulder.  “How old are you?”

“Twelve.”

“And can you tell us why you’re in that chair?”

“I was hit by a car when I was riding my bike.”

“How long ago was that, son?”

“When I was ten.”  The boy’s voice cracked as he remembered the accident that put him into that chair.  The crowd let out a collective “Awww.”

“Tell me Brandon, would you like to ride your bike again?”

“Yes,” the boy said as he nodded.  Tears were running down his cheeks as a woman next to him squeezed his hand.  She was most likely his mother, she was crying as well.

“Well, then Brandon, in the name of Jesus Christ, get up out of that chair and walk!”  He took Brandon by the hand, with his mother holding the other, and guided him to his feet.  Brandon was a bit wobbly at first, but in a moment got his balance and took a step, then another.  He walked slowly in front of the stage, then he started running up and down the aisles as the crowd roared and rose to its feet.

“Praise the Lord!  God is good!” the Bishop shouted.  “Amen!  Go home and ride your bike my son!  Amen!”

While I was impressed, I’d seen many so-called healers do similar things.  They would usually plant someone in the audience in a wheelchair and heal them of whatever.  It was never an injury people could see.  It always involved someone in a wheelchair, or with cancer or something easy to fake that didn’t provide   visual evidence.  In a lot of ways, healings were a joke in many Christian circles.

When I looked back to the stage, the Bishop’s goons were helping a woman onto the stage.  She was on crutches and only had one leg.

“Can you tell me your name my dear?” he asked.

“My name is Katie,” she said.  She appeared to be in her twenties, had blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail.

“What happened to your leg Katie?”

“I was in a bad car accident a couple years ago.  My car went off the road and rolled several times.  My leg was pinned.  They got me out alive, but couldn’t save my leg.”

“That must have been horrible my dear.  Yet there was a reason you lost your leg.  So you could be used for God’s glory here today.”

She had on shorts and a sandal on her one foot.  The Bishop knelt down and put his hand on her stump.  The crowd grew silent as he prayed.  He sat the microphone down and muttered something we could barely make out.  It sounded almost as if he was chanting.  After a minute or so, Katie made a noise as if she were in pain.

The Bishop kept his hand on her stump and slowly flesh began to appear.  The stump slowly grew longer and longer.  The crowd sat in stunned silence as the flesh took shape and formed into a knee, and then an ankle, and finally a foot appeared.  Katie wiggled the toes of the new foot as she put her crutches down.  She began to walk on both legs as her face lit up in disbelief.  She would look down at her feet, then back up toward the crowd.  Her mouth stood open, speechless.

“It’s a miracle!” The Bishop shouted as he threw his arms into the air.  As if waiting on his cue, the crowd erupted with a standing ovation. Katie hugged the Bishop as music began to play and the crowd began singing, dancing and clapping. I figured I had seen enough.  With everyone standing, it was a good time to slip out.  I had spoken too soon about fake healings.  The Bishop had now raised two people I knew were dead, and grew back a woman’s leg in front of thousands of people.  I needed to get backstage to find out exactly what this guy was.

Chapter 16

It wasn’t hard getting into the backstage area.  Security had lightened up with all the commotion on stage.  The Bishop’s goons were helping him out on stage and the ushers were keeping the aisles clear as people moved about.  I walked toward the back and then re-entered along the side aisle on the far side of the stage and ducked underneath one of the curtains.  There wasn’t much backstage itself, just mostly wires and stacked equipment. I was worried that I’d run into security but no one was around.

There was a large RV parked behind the tent.  I walked through the rear exit which took me the rest of the way outside.  Next to the RV was the Bishop’s black Lincoln.  Several semi-trucks that read I Am the Way Ministries were lined up near the RV.  That must be how he hauled all the tents and equipment around.  I figured the Bishop lived in the RV.  It made me wonder where he kept it parked most of the time.

His ministry had to generate a lot of money to afford all of that stuff.  There was several hundred thousand’s worth of vehicles and equipment out there.  There had to be something going on besides online donations.  I walked over to the RV and tried the door.  It was locked, as I figured.  I took out my Leatherman multi-tool; it came in handy on occasions like this.  Using some of the attachments, I was able to pick the lock until the door popped open.  Lock picking is another unusual skill for a preacher, but I wasn’t an ordinary preacher.

Once inside, I flipped my cell open so I could use it as a light.  It wasn’t the best, but wouldn’t draw as much attention as a flashlight would.  I looked around the inside of the RV, walking toward the back.  There was a large bed with a desk next to it and a couch across from it.  I looked through the desk drawers, cabinets and anything else I could find.  There was nothing obvious, just pens, empty notepads and some magazines. The Bishop was a ghost, or phantom.  He came out of nowhere and suddenly was everywhere.  Something didn’t sit right about that with me.

“You’re not going to find anything here,” a voice said from behind me.  I spun around and took a defensive position.  It was David Davidson.

“Geez man!  You scared the crap out of me!” I said.  “Who the hell are you and how did you know I was here?”

“I’ve been watching you since we last met, Charlie.  Despite my giving you advanced warning, the Bishop has been one step ahead of you all along.”

“So I’ve noticed.  You still haven’t answered my question.”

Davidson leaned against the counter but kept his gaze on me.

“Who I am is of little importance to you.”

“I guess that’s a matter of opinion.  If you’re gonna be following me around and popping up in weird places, then I would say it’s of major importance to me. You pop up randomly, give me some cryptic information and then disappear.  What is of bigger importance to you is, do you know who I am and what I’m capable of?”

“Perhaps.  But you won’t kill me.  I don’t fit your profile.  Besides, you need me.”

“For what? Can you tell me anything about the Bishop?”

“For now, you don’t need to know any more.  I can tell you something about you though.”

“What is it I need to know about me?”  I was sick of his talking in circles already.

“Like, where you came from.  Your ancestors, I bet your parents never told you much, did they?”

“No.  What would they tell me?”

“For one, they weren’t really your parents.”

“And how would you know that?  And if they’re not, then who is?”

“It’s my job to know things.  The key to taking down the Bishop is finding out who you really are.”

“Just how do I go about doing that?”

“You’re a man of God.  Read Genesis, Chapter Six.  It will explain a lot.”

“What are you talking about?”

Before he could answer there were voices outside the RV. Through the curtain on the door, I saw some shadows of men.  Great.  When I turned back around Davidson was gone.  One of the men entered the RV.  It was Jeremiah, the tall goon.  He came toward me, his face twisted in an ugly scowl.

“Well, I guess you couldn’t take a hint, could you, pastor?” He said.

“I uh, guess not.  I must have gotten lost.  I’ll be going now.” I started to walk past him but he grabbed my arm.

“Not so fast.”

I wanted to lay into him but I didn’t know how many more were outside.  He reached into his jacket and pulled out a revolver, pointing it at me.

“Wow,” I said.  “A ministry with armed guards, so much for turning the other cheek.”

“Can’t be too careful these days.  No telling what kind of dangerous folks might be about.  Now get on your knees and put your hands on your head.”

I didn’t know how far he would take this so I did what he said. There was no way out.  We were squeezed into the tight space of the RV and there were men outside the only exit.  I had nowhere to go.  He walked up to me slowly as I kept my eyes fixed on him.  With a quick motion, he struck me on the side of the head with the butt of the gun.  I kept my eyes on him as he faded out of focus, then everything went black.

Part II: The Fallen

Jude

6And the angels which kept not their first estate, but left their own habitation, he hath reserved in everlasting chains under darkness unto the judgment of the great day.

Chapter 17

When I woke up, I was sure I was actually awake.  I was a teenager again, eighteen years old this time.  Church had just gotten finished and I was going through the sanctuary picking up the hymnals from each of the pews.  This was the best way my father and I felt I could contribute and learn how a church worked from the inside.  I did a variety of things to help out the pastors.  It was a humility lesson.  As badly as I wanted to do things like study the Bible and teach and preach, I had to start at the bottom, cleaning and running errands.

I took a stack into the back office when Pastor McElroy stopped me.  He had been our pastor since I was little.  In his fifties now, he still had a full head of brown hair and a bright smile with perfect teeth.  I always got the feeling like he’d wanted to run a big church or be on TV, but here he was, stuck in our little church.

“Hi Charlie,” he said.  “Could I talk to you for a minute?”

‘Sure,” I said.  He didn’t usually talk to me after services.  So I was curious what this was about.

“Your father has told me how much you want to work in ministry.”

“That’s true,” I nodded.  “I want to do God’s work, to be His disciple.”

“That’s great son.  God uses us all in many ways.  You have some great gifts yourself.”  He put a hand on my shoulder.  “But as a pastor, you have to speak in front of people.  You visit them when they are sick, give them comfort, hope. You sing with them, pray with them.”  He looked me in the eyes, obviously looking for some kind of reaction.  He was going to get no such thing.  Emotional reactions were not something I did.

“Charlie, you barely say two words to anyone.  You’ve attended this church since you were a baby, yet no one here knows anything about you.”

“Does that mean God can’t use me?”

“Oh, no, not at all.  I’m just saying there might be some things for you to work on.  We all have our own calling, or special gift.  Some of us don’t know what it is until later in life.  God doesn’t need just pastors, you know.”

I already had a good idea what my calling was- protection.  God needed strong shepherds to protect his flock.  The sheep needed protection from the wolves, and there were plenty of wolves out there.  Most people were oblivious to the danger that awaited them, whether it was physical or spiritual danger.  People just didn’t pay attention, or didn’t care.  I learned from my encounter with the dog that had killed my brother, I was stronger than most wolves.

“I understand sir,” I said.  “I already have an idea of some of my gifts, but I hope to learn more.”

He smiled.  “That’s great, son.  Let’s get this stuff put away and we can grab some lunch.”

I nodded as he walked out to his car.  I loaded more stacks of hymnals into the office.  The office where the hymnals were kept was where the church secretary and assistant pastor worked.  The pastor’s office opened from inside there.  I noticed his office door was open so I peeked inside.  I had never been in there before so my curiosity was getting the best of me.  There was a computer on his desk, note pads, pens; typical office fare.  On the bookshelf next to his desk was a small TV with a VCR resting on top.  I figured that was for watching tapes of his sermons to critique himself.

I walked behind the desk and looked at the setup.  There was a stack of tapes next to the TV.  I looked them over. Each had a label with a date.  I knew the church would send out videos of the sermons to people in nursing homes and hospitals so they could still watch the services.  I put one in and watched a few minutes.  It was the service from a couple weeks before.

I stopped the tape and popped it out, putting it back in its place.  As I turned I saw his desk drawer was open just a crack.  There was a lock on the front, but he must have been in there recently.  I pulled it open and saw some papers, rubber bands, and a stress ball.  I pushed it all aside and found another set of tapes.  These had no labels on them.  My stomach had a sickening feeling all of a sudden.  I wasn’t sure why. I hadn’t found anything, but  something was telling me I was about to see something awful.  Placing the tape into the VCR, I took a deep breath and hit play.

The tape was in black and white and a bit grainy.  There was a door, and something off to the right that I couldn’t make out.  It was as if the camera was on the ground or set very low.  The door opened and a woman walked in.  The door wasn’t a regular door, there was no knob.  It had a hook on the inside of it, like what you’d see in a bathroom stall.  A bathroom stall?

I couldn’t make out the woman’s face, but I could see she was wearing a dress or skirt.  She was standing right above the camera and pulled her panties down, exposing everything to the camera view.  This was the women’s bathroom at the church.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Pastor McElroy shouted from the door way.  I turned and looked at him.

“I think I should be asking you that question.”

“Charlie, you don’t know what you saw there.  You might think you know, but you have no idea.  You’re just a kid anyway.”  He was trying to play me off, make me seem like I was the crazy one for seeing what I had just seen.

“Pastor, you said we all have gifts right?”

“Yeah?  What’s that got to do with anything?” his eyes shifted back and forth, I could tell he was nervous.  His little hobby had just been exposed.  I’m sure he was wondering if I would tell someone in the church, or the police.  I could see his wheels turning, trying to think of damage control.  All I could think about was the women he victimized without them even knowing.  My own mother used that bathroom.  It made me sick to think of him sitting in here getting his rocks off while watching my mother on the toilet.

“How would you like to see my gift?” I said.  “God has called me to protect his children from lions looking to devour them, from wolves in sheep’s clothing.”  That was a quote by the Apostle Paul in the New Testament.

“Lions? What are you talking about Charlie?”

“These women trusted you, they look up to you.  And you go and spy on them for your own perverted means?”

“Charlie, it’s not like that.  Let’s go get something to eat and we can talk about this.”  He started moving toward me.  “You’re blowing this all out of proportion.”

I took a step toward him.  He was much larger than me, but I wasn’t scared.  My heard should have been racing, but it wasn’t.  A wave of calm swept over me, as if God himself was guiding me.

“Charlie, I’m going to ask you nicely to hand me those tapes.  We can pretend this conversation never happened.”

“God knows what happened, Pastor. And I know what happened.” Looking down at his desk I saw a letter opener. It was long, shiny, and sharp.

“Look you self-righteous little shit!  What are you going to do with them?  You think anyone will believe you?  You’re a snot nosed, weird little kid. I’ve been a respected pastor here for years.  Who do you think people will believe?  You can’t see me in those videos.  They don’t prove anything!”  He quickly ran around the desk and lunged at me, trying to grab the tape.  I easily stepped out of the way.  Despite his size, he was clumsy and off balance.  I grabbed the letter opener and thrust it into his right eye with one quick motion.

I could feel his eyeball pop as the blade went in.  He screamed and tumbled to the ground as blood and fluid sprayed from his eye socket.  I stood over him holding the bloody letter opener.

“And Jesus said,” I began, “if your right eye offends you, pluck it out.”

“Charlie!  No!  Please!” he screamed, but I was done with him, and so was God.

“Oh, be careful little eyes what you see,” I sang, “Oh, be careful little eyes what you see.  Because your father up above is looking down in love, oh, be careful little eyes what you see.”

His cries turned to whimpers as I straddled him and held the letter opener over his left eye.  Pastor McElroy liked to watch, but he wasn’t going to be watching anything ever again.

Chapter 18

When I actually woke up, my head was pounding.  The right side of my face was throbbing, probably due to the blow I took.  I tried to move but was unable to.  My hands were tied behind my back and there was duct tape around my chest, legs, and mouth.  The room was lit by a single light bulb dangling just overhead.  My vision was still a little blurry but I could see one of the Bishop’s goons standing nearby.  It looked like Jesus the shorter of them. He was glaring at me as if he wanted to gut me. I wasn’t sure why, but he and Jeremiah were some angry fellows.  So much for turning the other cheek.

I tried to make mental note of my surroundings but there wasn’t much to go by.  The door swung open from behind Jesus.  He stepped out of the way and the Bishop walked in.  He wasn’t smiling like usual.  Pulling up a chair, he sat across from me, leaned in and ripped the tape off my mouth.  I was glad that I didn’t grow that beard I had been contemplating or it would have really hurt.  I only managed a soft yelp as the tape tore free of my skin.

“I’m very disappointed in you Charlie.” He said.

“Yeah.  So is my mom.  She wanted me to be a doctor.”  I didn’t see Jesus’ fist coming until right before it connected on the left side of my face.  It stung for a few seconds, then the metallic taste of my own blood filled my mouth.  I spit it out at Jesus’ feet.  He reared back for another one.

“Now that’s enough, Jesus.  Please leave us alone for a minute.”  The Bishop scolded.  “See?  When you act this way, you force me to do ugly things.  I don’t want to do ugly things, Charlie.”

“What are you exactly?” I asked.

“Oh, I think the real question here is, what are you?”  He stood and looked down at me.  “That is, other than the so called ‘Hand of God.’”

Did everyone know about that by now?  First, Davidson, and then the Bishop. The thought occurred to me that Davidson, the Bishop, or both had been playing me.  But for what?  Even if they wanted to blackmail me, I didn’t have anything.  Then again, I saw the Bishop do some wild healings and raising the dead.  Perhaps he has some supernatural powers. Maybe he sold his soul to the Devil, if that is something one can actually do.

“Oh yes,” he said, reading the look on my face.  “I know all about you and your work. Running around, killing sinners as if God would tell you to do such a thing.”

“What do you know?  I saw you kill that preacher in San Antonio.  I also know you’re not what you pretend to be.”

“Who among us is what we pretend to be?  The sad thing, Charlie, is that I know a lot about you.  I know more about you than you know about me, or even about yourself for that matter.”

Now he lost me.  I wasn’t sure what he was talking about.  He was sounding more like Davidson had earlier.

“Just what is it you think you know?”

“I know where you come from,” He finally cracked a smile.  “You’re not of God, that is for sure.”

I wanted to rip my hands free and choke the life out of him.  I’d dedicated my life doing God’s work and he’s going to stand there and say I’m not of God. Who did he think he was?

“You sure aren’t either. Maybe we’re both from Satan!”

“Now don’t be so quick to judge Charlie.  For the standard by which you judge, shall you be judged in return.  I guarantee you’ll lose that battle.”

“So where is it you think I’m from?”

“Let’s just say your ancestors were not of this world.” He rubbed his chin as he spoke.

“Like what?  Aliens?”

He waved his hand at me dismissively.

“Are you that dense?  Now you’re just being foolish.”

I remembered Davidson telling me to read Genesis Chapter Six.  I remembered the passage. It contained the flood story.  Was he trying to say my ancestor was Noah? That made no sense at all.  There were a couple of obscure verses at the beginning of the chapter.  I tried to recall the whole thing.Genesis 6

1And it came to pass, when men began to multiply on the face of the earth, and daughters were born unto them,

2That the sons of God saw the daughters of men that they were fair; and they took them wives of all which they chose.

3And the LORD said, My spirit shall not always strive with man, for that he also is flesh: yet his days shall be an hundred and twenty years.

4There were giants in the earth in those days; and also after that, when the sons of God came in unto the daughters of men, and they bore children to them, the same became mighty men which were of old, men of renown.

5And God saw that the wickedness of man was great in the earth, and that every imagination of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually.

The English phrase “Sons of God” in the original Hebrew is Bene Elohim. This Hebrew phrase is only used one other time in the Bible, and that is in the first chapter of Job.  In that passage it is specifically referring to angels.  So, many people believe this passage in Genesis is talking about fallen angels coming to earth and breeding with human women.  The offspring were called Nephilim.  This is something widely debated among Bible scholars and clergy.  It’s also something you learn around the second or third year of Bible college.  They don’t teach this stuff in Sunday school. It’s too weird and complicated to explain to the little ones.

The Bishop was still talking even though I hadn’t been paying attention.

“Do you need me to explain it to you?” he asked.

“Sons of God,” I said.

“Well, give the boy a medal!” he said as he clapped his hands.

“So you’re saying I’m a Nephilim?”

“I’m saying you’re a descendant of a Nephilim.  Which is why I’m not going to kill you, at least for now.”

“How kind of you.”

“Well, as God said in Genesis, you are an abomination, and He did His best to destroy the rest of you.  Some of you still squeaked by and managed to breed, so here you are.”

“So why not kill me if I’m so abominable?”

“Oh no. God still has some use for you.  And so do I, my friend.”

“Use for what?”

“Oh, we’ll be in touch.  I imagine you need some time to digest this new information.”  He started out of the room, then stopped and turned. “Oh, and by the way, please stop following me around town.  It’s rather annoying.  Also I will resurrect anyone else you kill.”  He whispered something to Jesus, who had just stepped back inside, and then the Bishop walked out.

I thought of everything he told me.  He was either crazy or seriously screwing with my head.  I was leaning toward the latter.  How could I possibly descendant of a Nephilim?  I didn’t have much more time to think before Jesus came toward me with a syringe.  I struggled against my bonds but I couldn’t budge.  In one smooth motion, he stuck the syringe in my neck and pressed the plunger.  Before I could register what had just happened, everything went dark.

Chapter 19

I woke up on the floor of my apartment; apparently the Bishop didn’t want to tuck me in.  It was still dark outside so it must have been early in the morning.  I had no idea how much actual time had passed since I first broke into his RV. I’m sure the Bishop’s “revival” was a hit.  My head hurt like hell too. Both sides of my face were throbbing and sore, plus my head felt like it was filled with cement.  That was probably side effects from whatever it was Jesus had injected me with.

I gently pulled myself to my feet; every joint in my body ached and cracked with each movement.  My suit was completely trashed.  Thankfully, it wasn’t one of my good ones.  I stripped off the shirt and tie as I stumbled to my bed.  I sat there in just my wife beater and dress pants thinking over the things the Bishop had told me.  It was all rather unbelievable, but I had seen unbelievable things over the last few days.  Not to mention the fact that God tells me to tie people to crosses, dismember them and dissolve them in lye, and pour them down the drain.  I suppose that in itself would be hard for most people to swallow. That’s the tricky thing about religion, how far do you let your faith take you?  From the moment I fought with the dog in the woods, I was all in.

All that said, I guess what the Bishop told me about my ancestry was possible.  A few things about that didn’t make sense.  The Nephilim were giants; at five foot ten I hardly qualified as a giant.  I stood and walked into the bathroom.  Looking in the mirror I could survey the damage.  It didn’t look as bad as I felt.  The right side of my face was slightly swollen, and the left side had some bruising.  I was expecting to look like the Elephant Man.  I went back into the bedroom to find David Davidson standing by my bed and I nearly jumped out of my socks.

“Dammit!  Will you stop doing that?”

“Sorry,” he said.

“You got a lot of balls.  I’m getting really sick of you popping up here and there with these stupid messages.  How do I know you’re not with the Bishop?”

“It’s about faith, Charlie.”

“Oh fuck off.  Don’t give me this faith shit.  I’ve lived by faith my whole life. Who are you really?  ”.”

“I know you have, and who I am isn’t the important thing.”

That was enough.  Without warning, I ran toward him, put him in a wrist lock and leg swept him to the floor.  Once on the floor I placed him in a unilateral vascular neck restraint.  That’s a fancy way of saying I had him in a sleeper hold.  Despite his strange disappearing acts, it was nice to see that he was human.

“Now, you will tell me who you are, or I will pop your head like a zit.”

His face turned a shade of dark red as he grunted.

“You gonna start talking?” I asked.  He just let out another grunt.  “Tap twice if you agree to talk, and I will let you go.”  Without hesitation he tapped his hand twice on my leg.  Slowly I released my grip and backed away slowly as he stood, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You’re stronger than you look.”

“Thanks.  I’ve had some training in that area.”

“Yeah, I can tell.  Just so you know, that is the last time you will pull something like that.”  He lost his usual relaxed demeanor and spoke with a tone that told me there was a lot more to him than I understood.  “So you ask who I am.  This might take a while.”  He said as he walked over to my desk and sat on the edge.

“So give me the Cliff’s Notes version,” I said, sitting on my bed crossing my arms.

“Okay,  I’m guessing the Bishop told you about your heritage.”

“Yeah he did.  It was weird, but at least he gave me more than just cryptic hints.”

“Bad habit of mine I guess.”  He looked around for a moment.  “It might be easier to explain who you are.”

“That was going to be my next question.”

“Okay, good.  I know you know the Genesis six passage, right?”

“Yes, I’m familiar with it,”  I said.

“Okay, so you familiar with the book of Enoch?”

“Yeah, I read it for a college paper.  It’s not scripture, though.”

He rolled his eyes.  “You people, I swear.  Just because your scholars don’t recognize it or consider it scripture doesn’t mean it isn’t true.  College history books aren’t scripture, but they still contain truth.”

“Fair enough,” I nodded.

“In Enoch there is a group of angels called the Watchers. They lusted after human women so they left heaven and came to earth. They took human women as their wives; those women bore children called the Nephilim.”

“Yeah, they were giants,” I said, “and supposedly killed in the Flood.”

“Not all of them.  Remember the Anakites?  Including Goliath?”

“Yes?”

“Well a lot of the texts don’t go into it, but there were still a few around after the Flood.  They managed to find somewhere safe to survive.  They also continued to have children, and their children had children, so here you are.  When the Israelites moved to Caanan, they saw giants, the ‘Sons of Anak’ they called them.   Your ancestor is Bezaliel.  He was one of the original Watchers; the twenty leaders when they came to earth.  His name means “Shadow of God.”.  Not much is written of him in the translations, but he was one of the most ruthless of the fallen.  He was the one of the angels of death.  Such as the destroyer God sent to kill the first born Egyptians the night of the Passover.”

“I guess that would explain where I get my temperament.”

“Among other things,” David said.

“Weren’t they killed in the flood?”

“Most of them were.  In the Bible in Deutoronomy you see Joshua fights the Anakites several times.  It was God’s way of continuing to eradicate them.  In the book of Joshua, the Anakites fled to Gath after the battle.”

“And Goliath the giant was from Gath.”

“You got it. Kind of gives the fight with David some new meaning huh?”

“I guess so.  So what are you exactly?”

“You haven’t figured that out by now?”

“Sorry, I’m a bit slow these days.  Being drugged and beaten has that effect on me.”

“I’m an angel.”

I think I actually laughed out loud at this one.  Things had gotten too silly by this point.

“Right, I should have figured.  I’m a Nephilim offspring and you’re an angel.  I suppose Satan is lurking around here somewhere too.”

“Very funny.  You teach about God for a living.  You just emphasized so much about your faith.  Why is this so hard to believe?”

“Because for one, I’ve seen nothing in scripture to believe angels still show themselves anymore.”

“Well of course not. The Bible was written in the first century.  We never stopped showing ourselves, we just don’t broadcast it.”

“So shouldn’t you have wings or something?”

“I take human form so I can blend in.”

“And why do I get Dave?  In the Bible people got Michael or Gabriel.  I get Dave.”

“That’s not my real name.”

“Well, there’s a shocker.” I said.

“You really are a handful aren’t you?”

“So it seems.  What is your real name then?”

“Ezrael.  You won’t find my name in any biblical references.  However in the Apocalypse of Peter I’m the Angel of Wrath.  I’ll be casting sinners into their place of final torment after Judgment Day.”

Even for a man of God, this was all getting incredibly deep.  We Protestants are usually rather conservative when it comes to the supernatural.  Yet so far in one night, I’d seen and heard enough supernatural stuff to last me a lifetime.  I knew Dave/Ezrael wasn’t totally crazy.  Something wasn’t right about of all this, obviously.  I always prided myself on being the Hand of God.  Now I was wondering if this is what I really wanted.  Yet, if it were true, it would be a chance for me to be on the front lines of spiritual warfare.

“So if you’re an angel, how come I could kick your butt so easily?”

“In human form, I’m limited in my abilities.  So yes, you took me by surprise this time, but trust me,  it.  It won’t happen again.  I was also holding back so as not to harm you.”

I looked at my hands then back up at Ezrael.

“So does that mean I have some kind of super angel powers or something?”

“Most likely you do, but I don’t know what they are.”

“So why are you here?  Aren’t I some kind of abomination?  God tried to wipe us all out didn’t he?  Why does He need me for anything?”

“He did.  My job has been to hunt down what’s left of you and kill you all.  However with the Bishop, he sees an opportunity for you.  And as far as your work, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.  That’s not from God.”

“What are you talking about?  My work is too from God.  I have visions and everything.”

“It doesn’t work like that.  We’ll circle back to that later.  You’ve got plenty to do in the meantime.  The Bishop is not a man of God as you might have guessed.  You aren’t exactly in God’s favor.  But between the two of you, you are the lesser evil.  Not to mention your intentions are good, even though we need some work on your follow through.”

“So what are the Bishop’s intentions?  And what is he exactly?”

“I don’t know either of those things, other than he is out to lead people away from the church.  Distract them with his dog and pony show, but I’m not sure what his plan is from there.”

“Isn’t God all knowing?  You can’t give me any more than that?”

“God is, I’m not.  I only know what he tells me.” He stood and threw his arms into the air.  “I don’t know why he doesn’t just zap the Bishop and the rest of you half-bred freaks off the face of the earth.  I don’t know why he told me to kill the others, but to keep you alive long enough to help with this Bishop without giving me more info.  Maybe he wants to build your character so you can have some chance at redemption.  Maybe he wants you two to kill each other in the process.  Or maybe this is all a game to him.  I don’t know.  I do what I’m told, and this is what he told me to do.”

“Well, I’ll try not to take offense at the half-bred freak comment.”  This whole mess was a lot to take in.  Good thing I was apparently not entirely human or I might have really lost it.  Perhaps my lineage explained a lot of things about me.  “So where do I start with all this?”

“The rest you have to figure out for yourself.  I don’t know if I will be able to help you much from here.  I’ll probably get in trouble for telling you this much, but I figured you needed to know the truth about your past.”

“That does help I guess. So now what?”

“So now you go do some homework and go get him.”

“Then you’ll kill me?”

“Honestly, I don’t know.  He didn’t fill me in beyond that.”

Wonderful.  So God wanted me to do His dirty work, and then have me wiped out for being born.  Something I couldn’t exactly help.  Of course, He let His own son be crucified, so I guess I shouldn’t have expected much better.  Either way, I needed  some time to sort through all this.

“Okay, well I need some sleep first. You know us half-breeds need our beauty rest.”

I got up and pulled the blanket back on my bed.  When I turned around, Ezrael was gone.  It had been an enlightening evening, to say the least.

Chapter 20

Life was so much easier when I was just preaching on Sundays and killing sinners on the side.  Now I learn I have an ancient ancestor who happens to have been a fallen angel.  Plus I also may or may not possess some kind of supernatural ability, and my enemy is a guy who may or may not be human, but who really did have supernatural powers.  Not to mention the fact that all the people I had killed so far weren’t at God’s bidding after all. Yet despite all that, God still wanted me to do his bidding on this new mission, even though I’m an abomination and a serial killer.  Did I miss anything?

The rest of the week was uneventful by current standards.  The Bishop’s tent revival was all anyone in town or at the church would talk about.  People were talking about the Bishop and if he was really some kind of prophet.  I still didn’t get what the preacher he killed in the city had to do with anything.  Whatever he was, he’d attracted plenty of attention, including the local media.  They began lurking around anywhere he went.  They’d interview people about what they’d seen or felt at his revival. However, the Bishop himself had become scarce since the revival, no one had seen him.

I figured that was part of the act.  Cause a big stir, and then hide out for a bit causing even more of a stir over the mysterious bishop.   By Sunday, my own church was buzzing with excitement over the Bishop and his bag of tricks.  The first person in the door that morning wasted no time asking my thoughts. It was Lee, of course.

“Hey Pastor Charlie!  Did you see the Bishop this week?  Did you see what he did?”

“Good morning Lee.  I sure did.”  I tried to smile.

“It was so amazing.  I felt the Lord moving.  He healed me too!”

“He did?”

“Yeah, I wasn’t up on stage or anything, but where I was sitting.”  He turned and lowered the collar on the back of his shirt.  “I had a cyst on the back of my neck, a big one.  After the revival, it was gone!  God healed me!”

“Well, Amen, Lee, that’s great to hear.” I said.  Lee always had to include himself in whatever was going on at church.  Otherwise, it would have meant that the Lord passed him by for some reason, and he couldn’t accept that.

“So what did you think of the Bishop?  Is he for real?  You think he’s of God or Satan?”  One thing in the Christian community, at least for Protestants was to always investigate any supposed prophets or miracle workers. Some guy shows up healing people and doing miracles, people think he’s either a man of God, a false prophet sent by Satan, or a fraud.  They usually turned out to be frauds.  I did my best to give the politically correct answer.

“Well Lee, I’m not sure myself.  I’ve been praying about it and staying in the Word to see what the Lord reveals to me.”

“Great idea Pastor Charlie!  You’re such wise man of God!”

“Thank you Lee, talk to you again soon.”

Almost all of my interactions that morning were like that.  I was exhausted by the time the tenth person came through asking the same questions and telling the same stories.  Like a good pastor I kept smiling and shaking hands.  Thankfully the whole thing only lasted about an hour, and then I got to preach.  At least when I preach, I get thirty full minutes to talk and not be interrupted or have to listen to anyone.  My sermon that week was on miracles, for obvious reasons.  The sermon went on without incident.  I was able to do my post sermon greetings and head out after everyone had left.

I walked out to my Tahoe, the only car left in the parking lot, and saw a piece of paper under the windshield wiper.  I pulled it out and read it.

BISHOP HOOVER

OF

I AM THE WAY MINISTRIES

LIVE AT THE AT&T CENTER

WEDNESDAY JUNE 25TH AT 7:00PM

WITNESS GOD’S MIRACLES LIVE!

The Bishop was growing.  In just one week he went from filling a tent to booking the AT&T center.  He was up to something big; I just wasn’t sure what it was.  In all the information I’d read about his ministry, he’d always been low profile and kept things low key.  He never engaged with the media or booked large venues.  So, I had to find out what had changed.  Maybe he’s the anti-Christ getting ready to take over the world.  I’m not sure why he’d start in San Antonio though.  I could see in D.C. or Israel maybe.  I wondered if they would let me in if I tried to attend.  I had a feeling I’d hear from him before then.

I climbed into my Tahoe and headed home.  It was a nice Sunday afternoon, hot as usual.  I planned on sitting in the air conditioning and eating some tacos.  When I reached my apartment, I right away saw that plan was shot to hell.  Sitting in my living room was a short, stocky bald man.  He looked up at me with his bruised and bloodied face.  He looked as if he’d just been in a war.  His clothes were torn, his left eye swollen shut and the right side of his face looked as if it had been burned.  His left ear was missing as well.

“Can you help me Pastor?” The man said.  It took me a minute, but I finally recognized his voice as someone I was familiar with: Jesus, the shorter of the Bishop’s goons..

Chapter 21

I had no idea why Jesus was standing in front of me.  Perhaps the Christian thing to do would have been to give him some food, nurse his wounds and find out why he was in my apartment.  However, I was no normal Christian; I was the Hand of God, descendant of the fallen Angel of Death.  So instead, I punched him in the nose as hard as I could.  He was caught completely off guard and flew backward, slamming the back of his head on my coffee table.  I’m not sure what kind of response he was expecting.  Perhaps after taking me hostage and smacking me around he was expecting a foot massage.

I threw him over my shoulder and carried him out to my Tahoe.  The little guy weighed a ton, but I got him into the back without slipping any vertebrae.  It was time for an overdue visit to the chapel.  Jesus would make a suitable guest, and I could hopefully find some information about the Bishop.  David Davidson, or whoever he was, said I may have some kind of supernatural powers.  Maybe Jesus could help me figure out what my powers were and how to use them.

I managed to get Jesus stripped and tied to the cross in the chapel before he woke up.  There has to be something sacrilegious about torturing a guy named Jesus on a cross, but there we were.  I broke open an ammonia capsule and shoved it up his nose. He grunted and twitched as his eyes fluttered open.  His eyes widened when he saw me and he looked around.

“What’s going on?  Where am I?” he asked.

“You’re in my chapel, Jesus.  And you’re going to tell me everything you know about the Bishop.  But first off, why were you in my apartment?”

“The Bishop.  I failed him.  He doesn’t tolerate failure.”

“Failed? How?”

“He sent me to visit other church leaders about joining his ministry.  One of the bigger churches in San Antonio wouldn’t even see me.  I bullied my way in to talk to the church leadership, and they called the cops. I took off before they got there, but the Bishop wasn’t happy.”

“I can see his unhappiness all over your face.  So why did you come see me?”

“I know you see through him.  Everyone thinks he’s some kind of super prophet, but you’re right-he’s not what people think. .I know you want to stop him.”    He struggled against the ropes, unable to budge.

“Well, aren’t you just a little saint? What is the Bishop’s plan?  What is he exactly?”

“I don’t know.  I know he wants other churches to get in line with him.  He has some big, global plan.  He says it’s everyone’s last chance to get right with God.  But I don’t know what he is.  He’s powerful, incredibly powerful.”  He spat out a mouthful of blood.

“So what was your role in all of this?”

“He got me out of jail back east.  Told the judge he’d keep me out of trouble, so they released me to him.  But he just gives me jobs to do and I do them.  What are you going to do to me?”

“Now that’s a stupid question, Jesus.  You’re tied to a cross. What, what do you think I’m going to do to you?”

Tears welled up in his eyes as he began to sob.

“Oh no, please.  I didn’t have a choice!  The Bishop would have killed me if I didn’t follow him.  I came to you for help!”

“Oh, but I am helping you Jesus, I’m setting you free.  Plus it has come to my attention that I myself may have some kind of power, not unlike the Bishop’s.  I thought you would be useful in helping me explore this.”

He shook his head frantically.

“No!  No! No! No! No! I saw the kinds of things he could do.  Please don’t!”

“Well Jesus, how many people begged you for mercy as you had them tied to a chair?  I would guess quite a few.  Yet, that didn’t stop you now, did it?”

“The Bishop told me you were a murderer!”

“And you were in jail for what? Jaywalking?”

“Please don’t do this!”?” Tears poured down his face as he went into all-out blubber mode.

“Oh, stop that. You’re a grown man. Let’s get started.”

I had no idea where to begin.  How does one figure out what his super power is?  My ancestor was an angel of death.  So, did he have a weapon of some sort?  A scythe? A sword?  A chainsaw?  I obviously inherited the urge and the ability to kill.

“Let me go!  Please don’t do this!  I can help you!”

“Stop that! You’re, you’re breaking my concentration.”

“I can help you stop the Bishop.”

“Yean, I can tell by the beating you took, you got him right where you want him.”  I searched Jesus’ eyes to see if he might be telling the truth.  I doubted it.  He was in all out beg-for-your-life mode and would say anything at this point.  I’d seen it countless times. It, it was always the same, and not terribly productive.  Then I remembered the thing the Bishop did to that preacher in San Antonio.  So I figured I’d give it a try.  I put my hand over Jesus’ face and pressed tightly.  Nothing happened.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“Just bear with me.  I’m trying to find a new way to kill you.”

“You are insane!”

“Not as much as the Bishop, apparently.”

He grunted something I couldn’t understand.  I stood a few feet away and shot my palms out toward him, fingers pointed outward.  Still nothing.  I wish Dave/Ezrael had been more specific.

I decided to stick to a power I was more familiar with. Walking to my work bench, I grabbed the bone saw.  There was an idea swirling around my head.  I wasn’t sure where it came from, but there it was so I had to give it a whirl.  I fired up the saw and watched Jesus’ eyes widen as soon as he realized his fate.

“Oh my God!  No!  Please!”  He began saying something in Spanish. I knew enough of the language to know he was praying.

I began cutting around the edge of his forehead, slowly working the saw around his crown.  His screams filled the air as blood sprayed the cross along with my face and coveralls.  The smell of smoldering flesh and bone filled the air, along with Jesus’ continued screams.  He really shrieked like a little girl, it was quite unsettling.  I always hoped if I ever met my end in this fashion, that I’d be able to retain a bit more of my dignity.

After several minutes, I had worked the saw all the way around his skull.  Blood was oozing from the incision, but he was still alive.  I didn’t want to kill him just yet.  His screams had turned to loud sobs and he was gasping for breath.

“Please!  You don’t have to do this!  Just stop, please!”

I examined the cut, indulging myself to admire it for a moment.  I didn’t have any medical training, but I have to say, I was impressed with myself.  Carefully, I reached up and slowly pulled the top of his skull off.  I had to twist a little, but it came off with a neat popping sound due to the suction.  Jesus’ brain was fully exposed as I sat the skull cap onto my work bench.

“What the hell?  What the hell?” Jesus screamed at the sight of the top of his own head on my table.

“Just shut up already.  Have some self-respect, man.”

I took off my rubber gloves and touched the top of his brain.  It was soft, but firm.  It was fascinating.  Part of me regretted not playing more with my victims all along.  I held up both my hands and thrust them into his brain.  Jesus began screaming again as he felt the pressure of my fingers inside his head.  As I dug my fingers in, a wave of emotion hit me.  First pain, then images, dozens of images; memories, suffering, other people’s suffering.  I saw the Bishop, the pastor at the San Antonio church, I saw a woman with a small boy waving goodbye, there were so many.  I couldn’t keep up with them after a few seconds.  These were all Jesus’ memories pouring into me.  I was gaining his memories and his knowledge.  Everything he had ever seen, I now knew.

After what seemed like forever, I pulled my hands out and stepped away.  Jesus hung limp from the cross.  I had invaded him in the most personal way possible.  That was apparently my “super” ability.  I literally stole this thoughts right out of his head.  Granted it was rather gruesome, but effective.  I now knew he was telling the truth as far as what he knew about the Bishop.  So he wasn’t too much help there.

I reached out and touched him.  I didn’t know how, but my fingers sank into his chest, touching his heart.  Jesus jumped back to life as if someone just startled him.  I jumped back at least three feet when he moved.  He let out a gasp, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open.

“No!  Let me die!  Please!  Oh God!  It hurts!  Oh my God!  Kill me!  Please kill me!” he screamed.

I slid my hand back into his chest, this time his heart was beating.  I squeezed it firmly until he let out a final gasp and collapsed dead again.  I pulled my hand out and stepped away from his body.  What had I just done?

Chapter 22

I couldn’t get over the bizarre turn of events.  Having just cut a man’s skull apart and doing some sort of reading on his brains was new territory even for me.  The most disturbing part was what happened at the end.  I somehow brought him back to life, but in severe pain.  It was as if he was completely insane upon reanimation.  Kind of like I had some perverted way of resurrecting the dead. In a twisted sort of way, it was rather cool.

I suppose I was some sort of necromancer.  Necromancy was the manipulation or communication with the dead.  Such things were strictly prohibited in the Bible.  It was considered witchcraft or sorcery, either way it was of the devil.  Then again, the Bishop was raising the dead.  Although his wasn’t the aberration mine were.  I don’t imagine the arena full of people would be cheering at my version of resurrection.

Once I finished with Jesus, I disposed of him in my usual way and went along with my post killing ritual.  Even though I was supposedly not of God, I figured I would still praise him.  He at least gave me some cool powers, even if he hadn’t intended to.  Now that I knew my abilities, it would make things much more interesting.  I finished cleaning up at the chapel and poured Jesus down the drain.  After that was complete I headed off to the church.

Thankfully it was early evening and starting to cool down.  I loved the weather in South Texas, but sometimes it was too hot to bear.  Years ago I did a sermon on Hell.  I told the congregation to imagine standing on a hot sidewalk in South Texas while barefoot.  People have been known to literally burn the flesh off their feet from doing that.  Imagine that kind of heat, times a thousand, that’s how I pictured Hell.  Except in Hell you don’t burn up or die, the pain just goes on and on.  Though after what I had just put Jesus through, I was starting to get some other ideas on Hell.

As I pulled up to the church, I saw Lee sitting outside.  He was on the front steps crying.  No one else was around, not even another car in the parking lot.  I had never seen Lee cry before so I figured something must really be wrong.

“Lee?” I said as I approached him.  “You okay?”

“Hey, Pastor Charlie, no.  It’s not okay.  My mother died this morning.”  He stopped to wipe his eyes.  “She’d been sick for a while from cancer.  For the last few months, she’d been doing better.  But last few days she suddenly got real bad.  Early this morning she died in her sleep.”

“Lee, I’m so sorry.”  I sat next to him, placing my hand on his shoulder.

“Do you think the Bishop can bring her back?  I wanted her to go to one of his revivals to get healed, but she said it was nonsense.  He can do miracles, I’ve seen it.  Can he bring her back Pastor Charlie?”

If I’d had a heart it would have been breaking at that moment.  I could see the pain in his eyes.  I’ve lost family members before, but it never affected me the way it did most people.

“Wow Lee.  I don’t know.  I’ve never seen him raise the dead before.   I’ve heard he’s done it, but never have been there when it happened.”

“I know he can.  He’s healed people with missing limbs and everything.  I bet he can!  Can you ask him?”  His eyes lit up as he looked at me.

“I don’t talk to him much Lee.  Especially now with all the attention he’s gotten.  He’s hard to reach.”

“Well I’m going to talk to the funeral home and have them bring her to his next service at the AT&T Center on Sunday.  What a sight that will be!  Mom won’t know what to think when she wakes up!  I’ll have my mother back!”  He jumped up and shook my hand.  “Thank you Pastor Charlie!  Thank you so much!”  He practically skipped back to his car and drove off.  I’m not sure what I had done exactly.  I was still in shock that he was going to cart his mom’s dead carcass all the way to up to San Antonio in front of all those people.

I remembered what Jesus had told me about trying to get other pastors to join up with the Bishop.  I’m not sure what that was all about.  I figured I would swing by some other churches to see if they’ve heard anything.  I should have asked Jesus which ones were already on board, but then again, if it was in Jesus’ mind then it would come to me.  One church that came to mind was Frontage Road Baptist Church, one of the larger ones in San Antonio, but they had refused Jesus’ offer.  Go figure it would be the Baptists who weren’t interested in the Bishop.  Frontage had around 10,000 members.  They weren’t far behind John Hagee’s big church, also in San Antonio.

When I arrived, it was late but there were cars parked outside.  I told the custodian who I was and he let me in.  He walked me up to the main office where Pastor Carl Humphries was working.  I knocked on the door which was part way open.  It swung open the rest of the way and Pastor Humphries was there just inside.

“Hello, can I help you?” He asked as he extended his hand.  Humprhies had the classic televangelist look, thick dark hair, perfect teeth and a suit that probably cost more than I made in a month.  I shook his hand.

“Hi, I’m Pastor Charlie Sims.  You don’t know me, but I wanted to talk to you about Bishop Hoover.”

He rolled his eyes and turned to his desk.

“Oh yes, the Bishop.  Go ahead and have a seat.”  I took a seat in thick, oak chair with leather trim.  The whole office was done in oak, lined with bookshelves and a Mac sitting on his desk.

“I hear he sent you a visitor recently.” I said.

“Yes he did.  It felt more like a shakedown.  The little thug came in here saying it was in our best interest to align ourselves with his ministry.”  He threw his hands in the air.  “I don’t care what kind of parlor tricks or illusions he can pull.  We follow only Jesus Christ, not some charlatan.”

While many churches like my own had a Pentacostal or Charismatic bent to our faith, meaning we believed in miracles, healings, or supernatural events, most Baptists are what are called cessationists, meaning they believe all the miracles and supernatural happenings ended when the last of the original apostles died in the first century.  I often wondered if they were the smart ones.  Seems like a few times a year there’s some new “prophet” or someone coming along doing miracles.  The Bishop is the only one I’ve been sure is the real thing.  I’d seen enough supernatural in the past week to last me a lifetime.

“Did you see his revival last week?” I asked.  “Pretty intense stuff.”

“So I heard.  I don’t know what he is up to, but any minister who has thugs like that working for him is up to no good if you ask me. Talk about wolves in sheep’s clothing.” The Bible uses a lot of imagery and metaphor using a flock of sheep and their shepherd to protect them.  That’s why Jesus is referred to as the Good Shepherd.

“Did he say anything else?”

“Yeah he did.  He said if we refuse, then we will reap God’s judgment, and something about some wolves being stronger than the shepherd. I’m telling you, the Bishop and his ex-convict goons are nuts.  They’re not what they seem.  Why are you interested in all this?  They threaten you too?”

“Not in so many words, but yes.  I have a calling of sorts in this matter as well.”

He looked at me cocking his head to the side as he took a sip of coffee.

“Calling?  What sort?”

“God wants me to stop the Bishop.”

“Well good for you,” he said.  “Someone needs to.  Just be careful.  These guys look pretty tough.”

“I agree.  I’d step up your security around here just to be safe for now.” I said.  “I’ve had a few run-ins with the Bishop and his goons myself.  They mean business and I have no doubt they will carry out their threats.”

Carl looked concerned but not frightened.  He ran his fingers through his hair and looked down.

“What do you think he’ll do?” He asked.

“No telling, but I don’t put anything past him.  I know you don’t believe in his miracles, but I was there.  I saw them.  He’s for real, whatever he is.”

“You might be right about security.  It can’t hurt to be too careful.  You told me your name, but who are you exactly?”

“I’m a pastor, but I’m also the Hand of God.  And I will destroy the Bishop.”

Chapter 23

My years in South Texas Bible College were mostly uneventful.  I’d known I was special since I was a kid.  The pace at which I learned in school only confirmed it.  Many of my professors were impressed with my biblical knowledge and my skills at exegesis. I didn’t date or have much of a social life.  My focus was on my studies and pleasing God.

The college name was a bit of a joke to the local folks.  Many called it South Texas Bridal College since most parents sent their daughters there to find good Christian husbands.  While it had a lot of strict rules in force, the scene on weekends wasn’t a whole lot different than you’d see at a secular college.  Though students didn’t party at the dorms, they’d go into town and get a hotel room and drink until they puked or passed out, or both.

Sex was just as rampant on campus as it was at any other college.  The administration would have parents believe otherwise and, of course, premarital sex was strictly against the rules.  Even having a girl in your dorm was cause for expulsion.  The rules didn’t keep it from happening, or stop kids from hooking up at hotels in town or wherever they could sneak away to.  Unfortunately since sex was strictly forbidden, so was any form of birth control.  So when girls did have sex, they would often end up pregnant.  This got them a quick bus ticket back home.

This brought out the injustice of the whole thing.  The girl usually would not say who the dad was.  So she would get sent home, but the guy was free to finish his education, since there was no way to determine who the father was.  Most girls figured they were already expelled, so there was no reason to rat anyone else out.

I took interest when it happened to one girl in particular, Irene Torres. She was a pretty Latina girl.  She had olive skin, deep brown eyes and long, dark hair.  Her major was elementary education.  Unlike most girls, she hadn’t found a husband by our senior year.  She had gone on some dates, but nothing serious.  For a few guys, she had become somewhat of a challenge.  Some men who took the Bible a little too literally, felt she was a rebellious woman who needed a man to tame her.  I never thought she was rebellious.  She was her own person, that was for sure.  We worked in some study groups together in a few classes.  I liked her because she was one of the few people in college who didn’t act like I gave her the creeps.              Everything for Irene changed a few months before graduation.  Irene went to campus security to report she had been raped.  She said it was her roommate’s boyfriend, Todd Sheffield.  Todd was the son of Hank Sheffield, a big-time pastor in Los Angeles. Hank had a church with thirty-thousand members, plus his own syndicated TV show.  Todd had been dating Irene’s roommate, Leslie since their freshman year.  Even though it was forbidden, Leslie had given him a key to their dorm.  Many around campus had also known that Todd had made a few passes at Irene over the years, all of which she turned down.

According to Irene’s report, Todd came by late on a Saturday night and let himself in.  Leslie was still out working her waitressing job while Irene was alone reading.  Todd came in and forced himself on Irene.  He was much bigger and stronger than Irene, so she said she didn’t fight too much because he threatened to really hurt her.  Security took her report, then took her to see the dean.  At first the dean tried to deny anything even happened.  After all, Todd Sheffield, the son of the great Hank Sheffield, who also happened to be a huge donor to the school, would never do such a thing.  After some pleading from Irene, the dean finally said he’d “look into it.”

Two months later, Todd Sheffield was still enrolled at the college.  Irene hadn’t been the same.  She walked around with this dead look on her face.  It was as if someone had turned off the light in her eyes.  I had known something was wrong, but at that moment I didn’t know what exactly had happened.  I soon would, however.  A few weeks before graduation, word got out that Irene Torres was pregnant.   In her case, though, she once again stated who the father was.  She told the dean and anyone who would listen that it was Todd Sheffield.  This got her nowhere.  The dean basically called her a liar, and other students, including her roommate, Leslie, called her a whore.  Irene didn’t hear the insults for very long, though. She was on a bus home within a few days.

Todd strolled around campus with the same stupid grin on his face his dad carried on TV.  I was coming back from class when it happened.  Todd walked by me and nodded as he spoke.

“How’s it goin’ Chuck?”  No one ever called me Chuck.  I should have killed him just for that.  Once he went by, it happened.  I got lightheaded, and the whole world began to spin.  I went to my knees and into a trance.  From there, I saw everything that Todd did to Irene.  I saw him in her dorm, forcing his body on her, her screams turning into tears.  Todd being questioned by the dean, only to laugh it off with him as if they were old buddies.  The sickening feeling came over me that one day Todd would inherit his dad’s ministry.  He would be on TV preaching God’s love to people, while he himself was a sexual predator.  Unfortunately for him, I was higher up the predatory food chain.  It was in that vision that God, or whoever, showed me what needed to be done.

Todd was a star on the basketball team.  So that night, I sat down the road from the gym and waited in my 1990 Ford Taurus. I wouldn’t be using the car as part of my plan though.  Security on campus was lax since it was a private, Christian campus.  There hadn’t been a violent crime reported there in its fifty year existence.  As I’d suspected, Todd left his car doors unlocked.  I climbed into the back seat and lie down across the seat. After an hour, Todd came strolling out of the gymnasium carrying a bright colored duffle bag.   He was much bigger than me, but the Brazilian Jiu Jitsu classes I’d been taking last few years would come in handy.  That, and the hunting knife I got at the Army-Navy store.

Fortunately, Todd threw the duffel bag into the front passenger seat instead of on top of me.  He put his key in the ignition and started the car.  At that point, I sat up and put him in a choke hold.

“What’s up, Chuck?” I said through my gritted teeth.

“What the hell?” he grunted as he slammed his head back against me, catching me right in the nose.  I was lucky he didn’t break it.  Todd leaned back against me and pushed his feet up on the dash and hit the horn with his knee.  The sound of his car’s horn filled the air.  This was great.  He knew who I was. There was no turning back now.

“Stop it or I’ll kill you!” I said.

“Fuck you, freak!” he yelled as my grip loosened.  I was about to lose him then it would be over for me for sure.

“I know what you did to Irene.  I won’t let you get away with it.”

“I didn’t do anything to that crazy bitch.  She is a liar.”

“You’re the liar!” I said, getting my grip back around his neck.  “You raped her!  She got expelled right before graduation, and you go on like it’s nothing.”

“Look, I didn’t rape her okay?  She wanted it.  She was a hot spicy little piece of ass too.  She struts around here like she’s too good for everyone. The bitch needed to be shown her place.  At least she’s pregnant.  That’s all women are really put here for anyway.  Look at the women in the Bible.  It’s what God meant them to be.  Hell, I did her a favor.”  He struggled against my grip.  “Will you please let me go?  I promise I won’t report you. I might beat your ass on my own, but I won’t get you kicked out.”

“Not a chance,” I said.  With that, he put his knee back up on the horn and pressed it.  That thing going off would attract all kinds of attention.  By this point, I was so blind with rage it didn’t matter.  I reached into my jacket and took out the knife.  He never saw it coming.  Even in the choke hold, he kept grinning as he pressed on the horn.  The smile disappeared when he saw the flash of the blade in the dim light.  I thrust the blade into his chest, then pulled it out and did it again. Blood sprayed the inside of the car, my face, clothes and everywhere.  I kept stabbing his chest and stomach over and over.  He began to make a gurgling sound as his body twitched and writhed.

Finally, he slumped down, lifeless.  That sure hadn’t gone according to plan at all.  I made a huge mess in the process.  I spent the rest of the night taking his car out to a field and torching it, with him inside.  I changed into his clothes from the duffel bag and threw mine into a dumpster a few miles from where the car was torched.  From there, I took a cab back to campus and drove back to my dorm where I managed a few hours of sleep before class.  It may have been sloppy, but I’d completed my first mission as the hand of God.

Chapter 24

Wednesday night I arrived at the AT&T center to find people lined up outside.  Some had tents and sleeping bags, as if they’d been camping out there.  I arrived around five, a few hours before the service was set to begin.  There were people in wheelchairs, amputees and I could swear I saw a few hearses sitting in the parking lot.  Unfortunately for most of these folks, they will hand over a lot of money and come away with nothing.  I had no idea what the source of the Bishop’s power was, but it couldn’t be from God.  My own power wasn’t from God; I was still having trouble accepting that much.

After a long wait, I got inside and found my seat.  There was a giant cross surrounded by lights behind the stage.  The lights were off at the moment, but I was sure they’d be shining brightly once the show started.  Not wanting to sit for another hour, I headed back outside to stretch my legs.  I was walking around the building when I saw a caravan of huge RVs come pulling into the arena.  The biggest one said I Am the Way Ministries on the side.  The others were smaller and plain on the sides.  I figured it was the Bishop and his entourage.

There was a large parking area blocked off by several barricades.  The RVs pulled into that section and sat for a good twenty minutes or longer.  Finally the Bishop emerged with a group of men wearing suits. As he walked toward the arena, people shouted and waved for his attention.  Some held out sick or disabled children, hoping he would touch and heal them.  The whole scene was rather depressing.  He did walk over and greet some of the fans, avoiding any of the sick children.

“Thank you, everyone, for coming out.  God bless each of you.  Thank you.” He said as he walked along the row, shaking hands. Then he got to me.

“Well, Pastor Charlie, what a pleasant surprise!” He said, smiling.  I wasn’t in a smiling sort of mood.

“Well, thank you, Bishop.”

“I gather you’ve done some thinking after our talk?”

“A bit.”

“Well why don’t you join me a bit before our service? I’d like to talk to you more, now that you’re calm.”  He gestured to one of his security guards, who opened the barricade enough for me to get through.  I stepped inside and walked alongside him.

“I’m always calm.”

“But of course you are.”  He looked around, smiled and waved some more as we entered the building.  “Oh, by the way, have you seen my former associate, Jesus?”

“I think you know the answer to that.”

He laughed as we strolled down the long tunnel.

“Yes, I’m afraid I do.” He said.

“And you didn’t resurrect him?”

“I tried.  You did quite a number on him.  Whatever you did, his brains were far too scrambled.  Some impressive work, that’s why I could use you.”

We arrived at his dressing room where another security guard held the door for us as we went in.  The dressing room was plain and unremarkable.  It just had some furniture, and a mirror with a closet nearby. At least he didn’t have some extravagant rider for his events.

“Use me for what?” I asked.

“On my ministry.  You’ve seen our work.  You’ve experienced it!”  He gestured wildly.  “Can’t you see?  The Lord is doing amazing things here!  He’s been using you, despite your appetite for blood.  He found a way to use that for His purpose.  Don’t you see?  I am His messenger, His prophet.  You are His hand, His Angel of Death.  God put His plan in motion and you carry it out.  You have no idea what you are capable of, Charlie.”  His smile faded.  “There are things happening in this world I cannot tell you about; things in the spiritual realm.  It’s all going to end soon.  Whose team do you want to be on?  Be on the winning team!  Join me!”

I had to admit, he was sounding a bit like me, except crazier.

“Okay, so why is it I hear you are out to destroy the church, and you’re not of God and you send goons around to kill preachers.”

He rolled his eyes and waved his hand dismissively.

“Oh, nonsense.  That’s just Satan trying to plant seeds of doubt to confuse God’s people.  We should work together.  Imagine the things we could accomplish!  Oh, and that preacher you think you saw me kill?  He was not a preacher.  He was a demon pretending to be a preacher.  I merely sent him back to the spirit realm.”

He was convincing, I had to give him that.  Still, something didn’t feel right.  He’d had me tied to a chair and beaten.  That was hard for me to let go.

“While it all sounds so tempting, God has always called me to work alone.” I said.  “Not to mention, you may have all this leading from God to have me join you.  Yet when I’m around you, I feel this weird, creeped out feeling.”

“That’s just your Nephilim nature. You naturally want to oppose anything good.”

“I don’t think that’s it.  Everything in my body screams for me to run as fast as I can from you.”

His look hardened as he glared at me.

“Charlie, don’t do this.”

“I’m not doing anything.  It’s what I’m not doing.”

“You think you’re pretty clever don’t you?  Jesus said, “He who is not with me, is against me, and he who is not with me is scattered abroad.”  Knowing you the way I do, being scattered abroad takes on a whole new meaning.”

“Threats are unbecoming of you Bishop.  You’ve always been so charming.”

“Oh, I assure you, it’s not a threat.  I must go begin the service, Charlie.  Time is running out for all of you.  I beg you to reconsider.  If not, you’ll be hearing from me soon enough.”  He placed his hand on my shoulder, the smile returning.  “Now, why don’t you go enjoy the service, and be blessed.”

Chapter 25

The Bishop had really outdone himself on this service.  I stayed for a little while so I could see the bigger stage, more lights, louder music and bigger crowd.  He even had Angels among us playing, one of the most popular contemporary Christian bands in the country.  Though the highlight of the service was about halfway through, when the band played I Surrender All as some men came out of the tunnel pushing a casket on a large dolly.  They guided it up a ramp and onto the stage.  A collective breath went out of the crowd when the casket made its appearance.

The Bishop smiled as they opened the casket, revealing a woman lying inside, wearing a blue dress.  She appeared to be in her early forties, had brown wavy hair and her hands were folded across her stomach.  I had to look at the Jumbotron to get a good look.  The crowd watched with anticipation while I had a good idea what was coming.  The music had stopped and the arena had grown silent.  The Bishop put his hand on her forehead and stroked her hair lightly as he spoke.

“No my brothers and sisters, this is not a funeral service.  Quite the opposite, actually.”  He stepped away and motioned to the woman in the casket.  “Here we have Emily Carter.  She died last night of cancer. She was only forty-two.”  The crowd let out a low murmur that sounded like “awe.”

“However,” the Bishop continued.  “The Lord still has work for her to do.  He wants to use her for His glory.”  A few random “Amens” were shouted from the crowd.  He placed his hand back over her forehead.  “Dear Father God and our Lord Jesus Christ, we know You and only You have power over death.  Only you have conquered death.  Please Father, conquer death for Emily today.  Raise up our sister so that You might be glorified.  I ask these things in Your name, Amen.”

He removed his hand and stepped away as the entire arena continued holding its breath.  Several minutes passed, and the crowd began muttering.  I was rather surprised myself.  Had the Bishop failed?  Emily answered my question by coughing, and then shifting in her casket.  She slowly began to sit up.  The crowd roared as she sat up, looking around.  She appeared disoriented as the Bishop helped her out of her casket.  People began shouting “Praise Jesus!” and “Hallelujah!”  It was almost too cliché to be real, but there it was.

Emily continued looking around, even tried to fix her hair which was slightly matted in the back.  The Bishop held her hand and whispered something into her ear.  Some men came on stage with a wheelchair and helped her into it.

‘”Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you Miss Emily Carter!”  He paused as the crowd cheered.  “Now not only is Miss Carter alive again, but there is not one spot of cancer in her body.”  This time the crowd erupted in a standing ovation.  That went on for several minutes while Emily looked like she was in total shock.  Finally some men came and wheeled her off the stage.  The whole spectacle was enough for me.  I figured I’d leave early and try to beat the traffic.

When I got outside it was already getting dark.  I dug out my keys and clicked the unlock button.  Just before I reached my Tahoe, I heard someone behind me.  I started to spin around, but something hit me on the side of the head.  I managed to side step most of the blow, even though it stunned me.  It took me a second to see straight, and then I saw the man who had hit me was holding a blackjack. Three more men, all wearing suits, came out from behind vehicles.  One of the men grabbed my arm, but I pushed off him.  They all rushed me and I felt them punching and grabbing at me.  I began to swing and flail but there were too many, and they were all stronger than me. The irony of being involved in a fight in a church parking lot wasn’t lost on me, but I filed that away, to laugh about later.

They were going to take me down, and I knew it.  I reached up and placed my hand on one of their faces and started to push him away.  Instead, something else happened.  My fingers began to burn through his skin and into his skull.  He let out a scream as my fingers seared clear into his brain.  In an instant, his knowledge and memories poured into me, downloading into my mind.  Once the memories stopped, he fell to the ground, lifeless.  I kept my hand on him for a few seconds until he jumped up screaming.  The holes in his face were still there, which was rather creepy.  His screams were loud and shrill, like his hair was on fire.  He rolled around on the ground as if he were having a seizure, but seemed to be purposely hitting his head on the ground trying to make whatever was happening go away.  Blood covered his face as he beat his head on the pavement, over and over, screaming:

“Make it stop!  Make it stop!  Get out of my head!”

The other men stopped in their tracks and began backing away from me.  Their eyes were glued to the screaming man on the ground.  While their attention was diverted, I grabbed two of them by their heads and did the same thing.  Within seconds, they too were on the ground screaming alongside their friend.  The three men had all just died at my hands, and then had been reanimated into the screaming, tortured souls at my feet.  If I wasn’t a sociopath the whole thing probably would have been horrifying to watch.

I looked at the last man, who was standing motionless watching me.  He backed away slowly as if I was a cobra ready to strike.  I stepped toward him, but he continued moving away from me.

“I’m not going to do this to you,” I said.  “Go tell the Bishop, the Hand of God is coming for him.”  He just stood there looking at me.  “Go!  Now!” I yelled, as he turned and ran.

I quickly climbed into my Tahoe and drove away before the entire AT&T Center heard the screaming.  I could have just killed them all, but that would have been too messy and no good way to hide the bodies.  Dead bodies draw too much attention.  Screaming men would draw psychiatrists.  Maybe the Bishop will think they were demon-possessed and try to exorcise them.  I wasn’t even sure exactly what I had done to them.  It was as if they came back from the dead totally crazy, or just as screaming zombies.  Whatever it was, they appeared to be self- aware, and in great pain, a pain worse than death.

As I drove, I thought about the Bishop, and I thought about myself. He had just raised someone from the dead, and she seemed to be in perfect health. I could raise people from the dead too, but only after I killed them in the first place, a side effect of stealing all their memories. It was ironic, really. My way was a twisted perversion of what the Bishop could do. I wondered if he got all their memories, too.

My apartment came into sight, and I pulled into the parking lot, feeling hopeful.  I had just fought off four of the Bishop’s goons, who’d had me outnumbered and outmatched.  I was learning what my abilities were and how to use them. Whatever the Bishop was, I was not going to be powerless before him. My gifts seemed much nastier than the Bishop’s parlor tricks. I smiled.  It was going to be a good week after all.

Chapter 26

As I pulled into my parking lot, David Davidson/Ezrael appeared next to me in the Tahoe.  He scared the hell out of me that time, but I guess he thought it was urgent.

“You can’t do that Charlie,” he said without looking at me.

“What are you referring to?”

“You know exactly what I’m referring to.  Killing people out in the open like that and then leaving behind shrieking zombies?  You know the whole ‘thou shall not kill’ thing?”  Davidson/Ezrael seemed quite angry.

“Well, gosh, Dave.  Your boss kinda wiped lots of people out back in the day didn’t He?  Besides, those goons aren’t technically dead.”

“He’s God, He can do that.  And they’re not dead, but they sure aren’t alive.”

“Well, I’m the Hand of God, and I was doing His work.  I thought it was kind of fun, actually.”

He shook his head as I pulled the keys out of the ignition.“You are certifiably insane, do you know that?” he said.

“So says the man who claims to be an angel, and who told me my ancestor was the Angel of Death.”

“What if you got caught?  What would your congregation think?   How about your testimony?  Think of all the good things you’ve done.”  He ignored my previous statement.

“Then I guess you and God better make sure I don’t get caught, huh?” I was doing my best to push his buttons, and he knew it.  I’d grown sick of his games and micromanaging, so I wanted to see if an angel could lose his temper.

“I mean it Charlie!  This has got to stop!”  At that, the Tahoe jerked to a halt in the middle of the road.  I felt the seatbelt burning against my neck as my body lurched forward. I was sure I’d look like I had a hickey from the friction. Great-just what I needed to fuel church lady gossip.   We looked at each other as I tried to restart the Tahoe.  The engine had died, completely stalling out.

“Sorry,” Dave said.  “I lost my temper.”

“I didn’t know angels could do that.”

“We can do a lot of things.”

“I see that.”

“And I saw you learned a few things too.”

“I have.  You told me to figure it out for myself, and I have.” I couldn’t believe he was second guessing me now, after he was pretty much no help to me in figuring all this out.

“I guess you have.  Do you have any idea what you are doing to people when you do that?”

I nodded as we sat there in the Tahoe. .

“I’ve got a pretty good idea.”

“You sentence them to their own personal hell.  Their mind is gone, but it’s not.  They are still aware of the horrible pain.”

“What better way to punish the wicked?” I asked.

“You’re really taking this Hand of God thing rather far aren’t you? You’re so full of yourself.” He looked away in disgust.

“No, Dave!  I’m full of the Holy Spirit!  But that’s something you angels would know nothing about, not having souls and all.”

He grabbed my arm and glared at me so hard that for a moment I thought daggers would actually come shooting out.  Even fire shooting out would have been cool.  Instead Dave just stared, his irises growing darker and darker until they were black.  The whites of his eyes filled in too, turning his entire eyeball black. He no longer looked human.

“Don’t push God’s grace, Charlie.  He needs you right now but He will have no qualms with snuffing you out once you have fulfilled your purpose.”

“So much for “God is love,” huh?”

He put his hand on my throat and squeezed tight.  Intense heat coursed from his hand into my neck.  I tried to talk, but couldn’t.  I could barely take a breath.  Placing my hands on his wrist, I tried to pull his arm away, but he was too strong.  I reached up and placed my hand on his head, but nothing happened.  I wasn’t surprised, really. He wasn’t a man like the Bishop’s goons.  Out of desperation, I thrust my hand against his chest.  To my surprise, my fingers burned their way through his flesh, sliding into his chest cavity.  Dave’s eyes grew large as their normal color returned.  He jumped back, letting go of my throat.

My hand came free of his chest and the wound closed quickly.  He looked down, rubbing his hand along his chest, and then looked back up at me.

“Look,” he said.  “We don’t have time for this.  The Bishop is getting stronger.  His following is getting bigger and he’s gaining more money and power.  Very soon he will make his big move.  God wants him stopped, now.”

“Well, it’s not that easy.  The guy has an army surrounding him 24/7.”

“You’re a resourceful guy Charlie.  Figure something out.”

“He could give me some help, you know.”

“He has.” Dave said.  “You got me.”

“My, how generous of Him,” I smirked.  “And what kind of move is the Bishop planning?”

“I’m not sure.  I know he has a national TV appearance sometime this week.  I think the Today show.”

“Really?  Is he performing with Taylor Swift or Lady Gaga?”

“Stop that.  This is big.  Once he appears, his following will go national.  Maybe even global.”

“But so will his enemies.”

“Whatever. Just stop him.”

“He can raise the dead, you know,” I said.

“And so can you.”  I looked away for a second and Davidson was gone.  I didn’t quite get the point of the whole conversation.  He didn’t like me using my power to zombify people, yet he basically told me to do just that.  Unless he only wants me using it on the Bishop and not regular people.  Either way, he was right about the Bishop.  He may look like he’s helping people on the surface, but I saw him kill.  Plus he’s got that goon squad following him around.  What preacher does that?  Of course, who was I to talk?  I needed to get closer to the Bishop and find out exactly what he was.  I had a feeling I wouldn’t like it.

Chapter 27

When I reached my apartment, there was an unmarked police car sitting where I usually park.  I made the car easily since it was a dark blue Crown Victoria with a big spot light sticking out of the driver’s side.  A man in plain clothes was standing in front of my door.  He was wearing an oxford shirt and dress pants.  There was a badge clipped to his belt and a gun in a holster on the other side.  I had no idea what this was about, but I wasn’t in the mood for whatever it was.

“Pastor Charlie Sims?”  The man said.

“Yes?”

“I’m Detective Jim Stanton, with SAPD.  I have some questions for you regarding Roger Quinn.”

So that’s it.  Roger.  I knew there was a danger in killing someone I knew, even if I was careful.

“Yes, Roger.  It’s got us all worried.  He was at church a few Sundays ago.  No one has seen him since.”

“Well, that’s just it.  Someone has seen him,” Stanton said, studying me.

“Really?  Who?” I really wanted to know.

“A witness saw you with him the night he disappeared.”

Oh, no.

“They what?”

“Can you come with me, please?”

“Come with you for what?”  I did my best to sound indignant and confused. The confused part wasn’t too tough to pull off.

“Look.  You can come with me and answer a few questions, or I can handcuff you and take you with me.”

It was already late.  I didn’t want to drag this out any longer than I had to.  He had to have something good if he was threatening to handcuff me.  Either that, or it was a total bluff.  Of course, if he had anything all that good he would have just arrested me on the spot.  I didn’t want to make a scene or seem anything other than the upstanding citizen I have always presented myself to be, so I went along with him.  We drove to the station in downtown San Antonio where he took me to a small interview room.  He left me there to sit for what felt like forever.  There was nothing in the room except a small table, two chairs and a camera mounted in the corner.  Finally Stanton came in and sat down across from me.

“Okay, Pastor Charlie.” He said, and then paused.  In the light, he appeared older than when he was at my apartment.  I saw there were flecks of gray in his hair that I didn’t notice before.

“That’s me.  So what’s going on?”

“One of Roger’s neighbors saw you and him standing by your Tahoe talking that night.   They said they looked away for a minute and when they looked back out the window, you were closing the back of your Tahoe and leaving.  You have anything to say to that?  You previously told officers that you hadn’t seen him.”

“No sir.  I’m not sure what this person is talking about.”

“Where were you that Sunday night?  We know you weren’t at church.”

“I was home.  I wasn’t feeling well.”

“Really?  Your neighbor said your Tahoe wasn’t there most of the night.”

“Well, she would be wrong.”

“Would she now?  Did anyone see you at home?  Anyone to back up your story?”

“No, since I live alone.”

“So you have no alibi?”

“Well no, I guess not.  I don’t usually have the need to verify my whereabouts or prove that I wasn’t somewhere other than where I actually was.”  I might be a preacher, but I had a little knowledge of how the justice system worked.  They would need more than a shaky witness statement and my lack of an alibi to charge me with anything.  This detective was getting on my nerves.  I had to resist the urge to dig my hand into his skull to see what might be lurking in that brain of his.  Probably not the best move in a police station.

“Okay Charlie, so who might his neighbor have seen?”

“I don’t know, since I wasn’t there.”

“Yeah, you said that.  That’s okay.  While we’ve been sitting here, my colleagues have gotten a search warrant for your Tahoe.” Stanton smirked as he explained, as if he thought he had me.  I guess the witness was enough for a warrant, at least.  I knew they wouldn’t find anything, though.

“So anything you’d like to tell me Pastor?  Anything we might find?”  He asked.

“I told you, I wasn’t there.  I was home.  Roger was a friend.  What do you people think I did?”

“I don’t know pastor.  Not very godly of you, if you ask me.  I’m Catholic so we have some different rules.  You’re what, like a Pentecostal?  Don’t you all play with snakes or something?”

Now he was trying to be cute.

“No, detective.  No snake handling or poison drinking or any of that nonsense.”

“How about that Bishop guy?  The one they talk about on TV?  I heard he can raise dead people.”

“Well maybe you should talk to him.  Maybe he can conjure Roger for you.”

The sarcastic smile disappeared as he leaned across the table.

“You think you’re pretty smart don’t you?  I know you are up to something.  You might have your congregation fooled, but I can tell something isn’t right with you.”

“The only thing I’m up to is God’s work, detective.”

He sat down and took a deep breath.

“No you’re not.  I’m going to keep an eye on you.”

“You’re welcome to.  If I’m not under arrest, I need to get some sleep.  It’s getting late.”

“I can have an officer take you home,” he said.

“That’s okay.  I’ll take a cab.”

Chapter 28

The cab dropped me off at my apartment around one o’clock in the morning.  My Tahoe was still parked where I had left it.  I looked through it, trying to see if the cops had messed anything up.  There were some fast food wrappers on the ground outside of it, where stuff had spilled out.  There was no way they’d found anything useful.  I had lined the back of the Tahoe with plastic before I’d placed Roger in.  It was just a matter of wrapping it around him and taking him out of the Tahoe, along with any possible evidence.  I started to question God’s wisdom in having me take a target so close.  But then I remembered God wasn’t behind it at all.

Having the police on my back was only going to complicate matters.  I would need to be extra careful, especially with the Bishop and his goons.  Between the Bishop, David Davidson, and now the cops, it would be a miracle if I ever killed again for fun.  I still couldn’t figure out how my life had gotten so complicated.  It was exhausting to think about, and I needed sleep so I headed into my apartment.

I opened the door, stepping inside to find Lee sitting on my couch.  Sometimes I could swear it just never stopped.

“Lee, what a nice surprise,” I said, trying to hide my sarcasm.  “What brings you here at this hour?”  As I got closer, I saw he didn’t look well.  He had about three days’ worth of stubble on his face, his hair was a mess and clothing looked like he’d slept in it.

“Something’s happening to me Pastor Charlie.  Something terrible.  I really need your help.”

I didn’t like the sound of this.  I could barely keep my eyes open, let alone sit and listen to one of Lee’s ramblings of a perceived problem.  He probably peeked at a Victoria’s Secret ad or something and now he was punishing himself.  I wasn’t sure how he got inside my apartment, but at this point didn’t really care.

“Well what’s going on Lee?”  I pulled up a chair and sat across from him.  “What’s bothering you?”

“There’s something dark here, Pastor Charlie.  Something horrible has come to our town, to our church.  I figured you were the only one I could talk to.”

I wished he would just spit it out, but that’s not how Lee operated.

“So what is it Lee?  I don’t mean to be rude, but it’s really late.”

He stood up and stumbled over to table near the kitchen.  He was holding his side the whole time.

“I didn’t want to come over here, but it was time I did something.”

“Did something about what?”

“About your interference with God’s work!  You are an abomination!”  His voice got deeper as he shouted. Moving toward me, he grew several inches taller as his face and body became a distorted, hideous mountain of rage.  His forehead bulged and mouth opened to expose shark like teeth.  His voice let out a guttural roar as he lunged at me.  His hands grew long, sharp claws, one of which scratched the side of my face.  Warm blood ran down my cheek as I tried to pull away.  The attack, and his transformation, caught me off guard.  I fell flat on my back.  Looking up at him, he didn’t look like Lee, or any other creature I had ever seen.

I grabbed the chair and swung it at the beast.  The chair shattered over its head, but had no effect.  The thing grabbed my arm with its long claws as I kicked at its legs, then stomach.  I made solid contact with its midsection but it was too solid.  I didn’t want to risk trying my brain thing on it.  It would likely chomp my hand off if I tried.  One of my kicks managed to loosen its grip enough for me to pull free.

I ran into the bedroom where I had a wooden cross hanging on my wall.  Figuring I had nothing else to lose, I grabbed the cross and pressed it into its chest as it ran up behind me. It pulled the cross away and crushed it to pieces.  At that point, I went for the window; thankfully I lived on the first floor.

I pulled the window open and dove out head first.  Before I was over halfway through, the thing grabbed my ankle and pulled me back in.  I could see outside, there was no one around at all.  Go figure, no cops when I needed them.  Too bad they didn’t put me under surveillance.  I spun around again, but this time its huge hand struck me on the side of my face again, tearing more flesh open.  Then it hit me over and over along the side of the head.  I became dizzier with each blow.  The room began to fade as I finally got to sleep.

Chapter 29

I came to several hours later, lying on a dirty floor.  There was a nasty smell in the air as I tried to make out where I was.  My head was pounding and vision was a bit blurry.  As it cleared up, my surroundings became more familiar.  I was in a chapel, my chapel.  Last thing I could remember was Lee coming over to my apartment, and then turning into some weird thing that attacked me.  I wasn’t sure if that part had been a dream or what.  Maybe the cops slipped me something, but that wouldn’t explain how I ended up at the chapel.

I stood slowly and noticed I was covered in blood.  The only thing I had on was my dress pants, and they were soaked.  I didn’t have any serious wounds, so it took me a minute to realize where it came from.  Looking around, I saw Lee was hanging from the cross.  He was stripped to his underwear and his stomach had been cut wide open.  His insides were in a pile on the floor around him.  Blood was splattered all along the walls and surrounding floor.  I was never that messy when I did my work.

Before I could take it all in, I heard sirens in the distance.  They were getting closer.  The Bishop was setting me up.  I don’t know why he didn’t just kill me.  Disgracing me would have a much more dramatic effect, plus would win my church over to him for sure.  Fortunately I had planned for such an emergency.  There was a hidden panel in the floor where I kept a metal box.  In that box was dynamite, fuses and gasoline in case there was ever a time I had to torch the place in a hurry.  This was that time.

I found the panel and flipped it open; locating the box I opened it and took out three bundles of dynamite and the fuses.  I attached them and placed them around the chapel.  Once that was complete, I grabbed the gasoline and doused everything in the chapel.  The place reeked of rotting flesh, blood, organs and now gasoline.  I went back to the metal box to grab the matches, but there were none in there.  The sirens were getting louder and louder as they approached.  I looked all around the floor and surrounding area in case I dropped them, shaking my head. I couldn’t believe it: I planned for all this and didn’t think to leave any matches?

The sirens stopped suddenly.  I knew that meant they were getting closer and wanted to approach silently.  I had to blow the place; it couldn’t all end like this.  The Texas justice system fried people like potatoes.  Preacher or not, I would be toast if I got caught.  There were some shelves along the back wall.  I dug through boxes on the shelves, sorting through trash, tools and finally found an old book of matches.   I ran outside and tried to light one of them, but the first few failed to light at all.  The third did light, so I quickly knelt down and lit the fuse.  Once I was sure it was lit, I turned and ran into the woods.

The sticks and rocks on the ground tore into my feet as I ran, but I had no choice.  After almost a minute I heard the explosion.  I could see the chapel go up in a ball of flames.  Hopefully no evidence of me would be left.  I didn’t know if any police were injured in the blast, but didn’t have time to worry about it.  I still had to do something about the blood I was covered in.  First thing was getting away.  There were flashlights in the distance, but I had a good head start on them.  I ran deeper into the woods, trying not to make too much noise in the process.  I had never been in this part of the wood, but had to keep going.

After almost twenty minutes, I heard a helicopter in the distance.  I hoped that wasn’t for me, but not sure how they’d find me through the darkness and trees.  I had to stop and catch my breath.  For some reason, the helicopter was not coming my direction at all.  The flashlights were not anywhere behind me either.  Perhaps they thought I died in the explosion.  The Bishop was behind all this, there was no doubt.  He’d used Lee to set me up, but I have no idea what that thing was Lee turned into.  Had Lee been like that all along, or did the Bishop do that to him?  I had a feeling it was the latter.

After a few minutes rest, I kept moving, but this time at a quick walk.  The bottoms of my feet were raw and crusted with blood.  After another hour of walking, I came to a clearing.  There was a large field with cattle lying around.  It had to be someone’s farm.  There didn’t seem to be anyone following me so I walked along the edge of the property.  There was a little shack a few hundred yards away.  I couldn’t tell if there was anyone there or not, but had to check it out.

Making sure the coast was clear, I made a run for the shack.  By the time I reached it, I felt like I would pass out.  My feet were on fire and my legs felt like rubber bands.  The shack wasn’t too small, but looked run down.  I tried the door and pushed it open.  After a few steps inside I heard someone shouting.

“Alto ahi!” A man was yelling.  I turned and saw a Mexican man holding a shotgun at me.  I put my hands up and gestured to him.  What he yelled at me meant “Stop right there!”  I only knew a little Spanish.  I hoped I knew enough to keep him from shooting me.

“Estoy herido!” I said, meaning “I’m hurt.”  I pointed at my feet.  “Habla Ingles?” I asked as he lowered the shotgun.

“A little,” he said.  “Why are you here?”

“Some men tried to hurt me.  I escaped, but the police think I did something bad.”

“Policia?” he said.

“Si.”

“Come,” He gestured to me into another room.  He looked like he was in his forties and wearing sweatpants and a work shirt.  We walked into the kitchen where a woman stood, about his same age.  She was pretty, had her dark hair pulled back and wore a men’s shirt that fit her like a dress.  They both looked tired.  They talked in Spanish for a few minutes, but I couldn’t make out anything they were saying.  After a couple minutes, she took me into the bathroom.  She cleaned off my feet and wrapped them while he stood by.

“I am Roberto,” he said.  “This is my wife, Esperanza.”

“Thank you both,” I said.  “You work here at the ranch?”

“Si.  The owners let us live here and pay us for our work.  She will get you cleaned up and you can have some of my clothes.   But then you must go.  No policia.”

“I understand.  Thank you.”

They let me shower and Esperanza dressed my feet again.  After the shower, Roberto gave me a pair of jeans, a Texas Longhorn t-shirt, some socks and a pair of boots.  The clothes fit mostly.  Anything on my feet felt better than running around barefoot.  I thanked them again and left.  I saw a crucifix hanging on the wall of their living room as I stepped out.  It made me wonder if they knew they had just helped save the devil himself.

Chapter 30

I left the shack and ran toward the road.  There was no traffic as far as I could see.  I wanted to avoid the cops, but also needed a ride.  It was at least forty five minutes to an hour from my apartment by car.  I wasn’t even sure it was safe to go back to my place.  For all I knew, the cops were tearing the place apart.  God only knew what information the Bishop gave them.

Once I reached the road, I noticed it was eerily quiet.  There was no longer a sound of the helicopter, and the sirens had stopped a while ago.  They must have thought I either died in the blaze, or was long gone.  Either way, they didn’t seem to be searching.  I was sure they had found what was left of Lee.

Poor Lee.  I still wasn’t sure if he’d been that creature all along, or if the Bishop had turned him into something.  I knew he was excited about the Bishop and had fallen for his whole dog and pony show.  He’d mentioned the Bishop healing a cyst on his neck or something, could that have been enough for the Bishop to do something?  If so, then what had he done to the other folks he’d healed?

I walked along the shoulder along the road for at least a mile.  My feet and legs felt like they were filled with flaming hot needles.  I had no idea what time it was, but figured it would be daylight before too long.  My clothes clung to my body in the humid, sticky air.  They were already soaked in my sweat.  I reached a sign that said it was five miles to Seguin. I was still a long way from home, too far to go the whole way on foot.  A few cars had passed, but I was afraid to try and flag anyone down.

A pickup truck came by, slowing as he saw me.  If they were going to give me a ride, I had to think of a cover story as to why I was out walking at this hour.  When the truck stopped, a man leaned over and spoke as he opened the passenger door.

“You all right fella?”

The man was at least in his sixties, wearing a white cowboy hat and a dark t-shirt.

“I’m okay, I guess,” I answered.  “Been walking for a long time.”

“Why you way out here this late?”

“Was coming back from some friends with my girlfriend, we got in a fight and she kicked me out of the car.”  It was the best I could think of in a pinch.

“Well ain’t that some shit.  Hop on in.  Can’t let you walk around all alone out here looking all pathetic.”

I climbed into the beat up truck as we drove off.  Hopefully this guy wouldn’t ask too many questions.

“I’m Roy,” he said.

“Charlie.”

“Good to meet ya.  I hope that bitch ain’t your girlfriend no more.”

“Uh yeah, not after this.  I’m done with her.”

“Good for you.  I been married twice, ain’t gonna be a third time.”

He was silent for a while, and then spoke up again.

“There was something big going on down the road a ways back.  Looked like a fire or something.  You see any of that?”

“Uh, yeah, I saw it a bit as we drove by, but we were fighting.”  I hoped he would leave it at that.  Instead he looked me up and down.

“Any idea what was going on?”

“Nope, sorry.  I wasn’t really paying attention.”

“Kinda weird you’re out here wandering around just a few minutes from where that whole mess happened.  And you don’t know nothing about it?”

I finally looked at him, hoping to reassure him long enough to get me into the city.

“No Roy, I don’t know what was going on back there.  Looked like a fire, they happen all the time in the city.”

“Then why you look all beat up?  Your girlfriend do that to you too?”  He wasn’t going to let this go.  He pulled over to the shoulder and rolled to a stop.

“I shoulda known better than to pick you up.  Guess once I thought about it, I put two and two together.  I don’t know what you’re into, but I want no part of it.  So I think it best if you just go on your way.”

“I’m not getting out Ray.  We don’t have much further to go.”

He began reaching for something with his left hand near the door.  Not taking any chances, I grabbed him by the back of the head and slammed it against the steering wheel several times.  The bones in his face made a loud crunching sound with each strike.  He managed to pull his hand back up holding a large hunting knife.  Being in Texas, I was surprised he didn’t have a gun.  I grabbed the knife and thrust it into his neck.  Blood filled the cab of the truck as it sprayed in all directions.  Roy grabbed his throat, twitching and gurgling as the life oozed from his neck.  So much for my clean clothes.

I pushed his body into the passenger seat and started the truck.  I was going to have to drive home, with a dead and bloody body next to me. Thankfully none got on the windshield, most of it got on me and the seats.  If I could get home while it was still dark, I wouldn’t draw any attention.  It has been a long night and I could use to catch some kind of break.

The rest of the drive home was uneventful.  I still had to do something with the truck.  I couldn’t just park a bloody truck with a dead body at my apartment.  Before I reached town, I found a spot along the river with a boat ramp.  I drove the truck to the ramp and hopped out, letting it roll into the water.  It sank within a few minutes.  Once it was gone, I walked the rest of the way home.  The sun was starting to come up along the horizon.  I knew I could take a short cut through a nearby field and get to my apartment from the back way.  I just had to move fast before someone saw me and my bloody clothes.

Within fifteen minutes, I was back at my apartment.  I peeled off the bloody clothes and stuff them in a trash bag.  Another shower was in order, to scrub Roy’s blood off of me.  Once I finished, I put on clean shorts and a t-shirt.  From there I stumbled into my bed room and collapsed into bed.  Sleep took me before my head hit the pillow.

Chapter 31

I have no idea how long I’d slept.  When I woke up, I was glad to still be alive.  The last twenty four hours seemed like some kind of twisted nightmare.  My eyes burned from the sun shining into my apartment.  I tried to move, but every inch of my body ached.  Slowly, I climbed out of bed and limped into the bathroom.  Sharp needles of pain shot through my feet.  I checked the bandages and saw they had come loose and were caked with dried blood.  I gingerly dressed myself and headed out to the church.

When I arrived, Sandy, the church secretary was sitting behind her desk doing something on her computer.

“Pastor Charlie!” She said clicking out of whatever it was she didn’t want me to see and spinning around to look at me.  “Where have you been?  We’ve been worried about you.  I tried your cell phone several times, but you didn’t answer.”

“Oh yes, my phone.  I lost it. I have to get a new one.  It’s been a hectic last few days.”

“Well I hope everything is okay.  I have a few messages for you,” she pulled some sticky notes off her desk.   “Mrs. Rivera is in the hospital again, this time they think it’s her heart.  John and Gloria Murphy’s son was arrested again.  And there was a police officer here this morning looking for you, but wouldn’t say about what.”

I was not even ready to process all of this.  The only thing that jumped out at me was what she said about the police.

“Do you know who it was from the police?” I asked.

“Some guy, Stafford or something.”

“Stanton?”

“Yeah, that’s it.  You know him?”

“We’ve met.  I’ll be in my office. I have some calls to make.”

I stepped in and closed the door.  First thing I did was logged onto my computer and looked up the Bishop and his miracles.  He was behind all of the chaos I’d been through last few days.  There had been multiple attacks on me in one night. I had no idea what that was about.  Lee could have just killed me when he knocked me out, but he didn’t for some reason.  Why the whole weird set-up?  Whatever he was up to, I was determined not to be caught off guard again.

I found a video on YouTube of The Bishop healing the amputee lady’s leg.  I did a Google search for her name.  It was Katie Ingle.  Looking in some public records directories I found her address and phone number.  To my surprise, I couldn’t find any interviews she had given.  Many places had tried, but she didn’t give comments to anyone.  I figured she’d be a good place to start.  The Bishop had since raised the dead, but Katie was one of his first big miracles.

I slipped out of the office, breezing past Sandy before she could say anything.  It took me almost forty minutes before I reached Katie’s home.  It was a small house in the west side of the city.  A large, German Shepherd startled me from behind a fence as I approached the front door.  I gathered myself and knocked.  An older woman answered, only opening the door enough so the chain lock would pull tight.  She looked me over for a moment before she spoke.

“I take it you’re here to see Katie?  She’s not doing any interviews.”

“I figured that ma’am.  I want to help.”

“Like how the Bishop helped?”

“No, nothing like that.  May I see her please?  I just want to talk to her.”

“I told you, she’s not doing any interviews.”

“I’m not a reporter.  I’m a pastor.  The Bishop has tried to kill me, a couple of times.  I know what he is.”

“And just what is he?”

“He’s evil.”

“No kidding.  And you’re going to fix Katie?”

“I didn’t say that.  I said I want to help.  If I can stop the Bishop, I think it might help Katie.”  I wasn’t even sure what was wrong with her, but I needed this woman to trust me.  “Are you her mother?” I asked.

“Yes.  I should have never taken  her to that stupid revival.”

“I understand.  Please give me five minutes.  If you don’t like what I have to say, I’ll go.”

She unlocked the chain and opened the door all the way.  We walked up a flight of stairs and to a small bedroom.  When I stepped in, Katie was sitting in a chair watching TV.  She didn’t look at all like she had when I last saw her.  She no longer was the smiling young woman who had just been miraculously healed in front of thousands of people.  She looked like she’d aged ten years.  Her eyes were sunk in as if she hadn’t been sleeping, and her hair was messy and appeared to be thinning.  She still had two legs, though. I stepped in and her mother introduced me.

“I knew someone would come.” She said.

“How’d you know?”

“It had to be God’s will.  He wouldn’t heal me just to let me suffer like this.”

“Well, maybe.  What’s been happening?”

“Of course, the Bishop healed my leg.  I thought it was a blessing.”  She sat up but kept her eyes down.  “I truly thought God was finally gonna heal me for good.  Everything was great for a few days.  After the service, the Bishop came by and spoke to me.  He was kind and friendly, but then he told me not to speak to any reporters or anything about what happened.  When he told me that, he didn’t seem warm and friendly at all, he turned dark and scary.”

“Go on,” I said, “I’m listening.”

“So, since that night, I’ve had blackouts.  I’d wake up and not remember things for hours, sometimes days.  I woke up one day with blood on my hands and clothes.  Many nights I have dreams of the Bishop, except in the dreams he doesn’t look like himself.  He’s taller, has darker hair, his eyes are black and he is surrounded by light.  He tells me things, terrible things.  He says the Beast has arrived and I must help destroy him or go to hell.”  She stopped and began crying.

I had a feeling the blackouts and blood were due to him,  just like what happened with Lee.  The Bishop had healed him, but then he could take control of him and even turned him into that thing.  It was as if people he healed became susceptible to being his minions or something.  What better way to do his dirty work?  Unlike me, the Bishop didn’t like to get his hands dirty.

“I don’t know why I always feel so tired and weak,” she went on.  “And my hair and skin are getting bad.  I don’t know what to do.”  She wiped tears from her face.

“I think what he’s doing to you is taking its toll.  I’ve suspected for a while he’s not what he appears to be.  I’m trying to stop him.”

“So why haven’t you?  He keeps having services, getting more famous with more followers.  What are you waiting for?  If you could have stopped him, you would have by now.”

“I know I can,” I said with more confidence than I actually felt.

“How do you know?”

“Because he keeps sending people to kill me, but they’ve all failed.  I need him face to face, so I can kill him.”

“What about me?  What if he knows I talked to you?  Will he do something to me now?”

“I have an idea.  Do you remember anything else about your dreams?”

“Just what I told you, I’d rather not remember.”

“I have a feeling some of them weren’t just dreams.  They might tell me something.”

“How?  I don’t remember.”

“You don’t have to.  I can find out your dreams, but it might hurt.”

“Bad?”

“Yes, but only for a few minutes.  Then I will be done.  There won’t be any after effects like with the Bishop, I promise.”

She looked to her mother who was standing in the door way the whole time.  I hadn’t noticed she was still there.  Her mother shook her head and walked out of the room.

“She is just trying to protect me,” Katie said.

“I know. It’s fine.”

“So you really think it will help?”

“I won’t know until I try.  But for now, I have nothing else to go on.  The Bishop moves around a lot and is surrounded with security.  I need to find an edge.  You might be that edge, Katie.  And if you believe God sent me, then he would want you to help me do his work.”

I couldn’t believe I went there, but it seemed to work for the Bishop, and I didn’t have much time.

“Well, okay. We can try.  Just try not to make it hurt too much.”

“Oh, it will hurt a lot.  I won’t lie.  But I’ll try to be fast.”  I said, as I placed my hand onto the top of her head.

Chapter 32

The drive back to my apartment gave me plenty of time to think.  I was getting more used to my “gift”.  I was able to see Katie’s thoughts and memories without hurting her too badly, or killing her.    She did scream a little, but not as badly as I had feared she would.  The information I got was helpful, but her blackouts were very real and ran deep in her mind.  There were several blank spots in her memories, as if they’d been removed completely.  I did see a lot of images of the Bishop and I could see Katie’s dreams as well.  The imagery looked like stuff out of the book of Revelation.  There were dragons, women riding on serpents, beasts with several heads, and the Bishop of course; albeit a larger than life and glorified version of him.

A couple things I was sure of: being healed by the Bishop put a person under his control, and the Bishop was making these people do some awful things during their blackouts.  I don’t imagine Katie wound up covered in blood on accident.  Once I reached my apartment I flipped on the TV.  The Bishop was on the Today Show talking to Matt Lauer.  He sat with his trademark smile and commanding presence.  Lauer sat across from him, skeptically asking questions about his ministry.  The Bishop didn’t flinch at all. He seemed to welcome the skepticism.

“So, you believe you have actually brought people back from the dead?” Lauer asked.

“I don’t believe I have, my friend.  I know I have.  I’m sure it sounds crazy and I wouldn’t expect you to believe it.  But Jesus said, “Blessed are they who have not seen but still believe.”

This guy sure was good. I had to give him that.  I wasn’t that smooth even on my best day.  Then the Bishop dropped a bombshell.

“I also want to announce, Mr. Lauer, that we are constructing a new church in San Antonio for I Am the Way Ministries.  It will be ready next year.  This will be a grand sanctuary worthy of praising our Lord.  It will rival any facility in the country, maybe even the world.”

“Wow,” Lauer said.  “That sounds like quite a project.”

“It is.  But with God’s will it will be ready by next year.  In the meantime, we will be holding services in the Alamodome every Sunday morning at 9am, 10am, and 11am.  The services will be recorded and televised on cable and satellite TV.”

Lauer nodded and still appeared skeptical as he sat with his legs crossed.  Through the interview he made several attempts to rattle the Bishop, but he didn’t even break a sweat.  Tom Cruise he was not.

“That sounds very exciting, Bishop.  Will you be doing more miracles at these services?”

“God’s miracles are not limited to the confines of church walls my friend.  In fact, I would like to do one now if you would allow it.”

“Right now?  What kind of miracle?”

“Well, the Lord doesn’t need someone sitting right here to heal them.  He knows all.  I can heal someone sitting out there watching right now.”

“Okay, then, go ahead,” Lauer said.  I could tell he was curious.

The Bishop leaned forward and looked straight into the camera.

“Very well. To my friends at home, I know there are those of you out there who are hurting, suffering, sick, in pain or just tired of dealing with life.  God knows your affliction.  Whatever you are suffering, no matter what your religious beliefs are, place your hand onto your TV screen.”  His gaze never shifted from the camera, his voice speaking in perfect cadence.  It was almost hypnotic.  It felt like he was speaking to me personally.  I almost put my own hand on the TV.

“Now, for those of you touching your TV, right now you have just taken a step of faith.  In the name of Jesus Christ, Father in heaven and the Holy Spirit, I command any sickness to leave your body at once.  I command any wounds to heal themselves.  I command your body, mind and hearts to be healed fully and completely.  Amen.”  He smiled and sat back in his seat as the camera pulled back, showing both men again.

“So that’s it?” Lauer asked.

“That’s it!  Although I do encourage anyone who was healed today email the Today Show with records from their doctor showing what their condition had been before, and what it is now that they are healed.  I’m sure you won’t believe them Mr. Lauer, but either way, if a few people’s lives are changed from this interview, then it was well worth it.”

“Could be, Lauer said, wrapping up. “ Thank you for coming to visit us, Bishop.  It was good meeting you and definitely a learning experience.”

“And I thank you, sir,” the Bishop nodded while clasping Lauer’s hands as the show went to a commercial.

I flipped the TV off as I realized what just happened. In light of my new knowledge about how the Bishop controlled those he  healed, I had no doubt he could heal people through the TV.  If that is the case, then every person he just healed through the TV would become his slave, like Katie.  This time, it wouldn’t be just a few people in an arena, but hundreds of thousands, maybe millions across the country or even worldwide.  With the new church he was building there was no telling where it would end.  I realized I was fighting a losing battle. The Bishop had kept me occupied with his thugs while he went on his conquest.

I needed a game changer.  After a minute an idea came to me, a good one. Maybe it was divine intervention, or just my own twisted mind at work.  Either way, God put me on this fight for a reason, to battle evil with evil.  It was time to show the Bishop who the darker force was.

Part III:

The Second Coming

Amos 5:18 Woe unto you that desire the day of the LORD! To what end is it for you? The day of the LORD is darkness, and not light.

Chapter 33

The first place I headed was back to Katie’s house.  As I pulled up, there was another car already there.  It was a black SUV. The Bishop or his men were there.  I was sure they knew about my visit earlier.  No telling what they were doing to her and her mother now.  Whatever it was, I wasn’t going to let the Bishop hurt her anymore.

I jumped out of my car and ran to the door.  I tried looking in the window to see anything.   There was a scream from upstairs, so I kicked in the door and ran in to see what was going on.  When I got up there, two men in suits were in the hallway.  Katie was crouching in a corner in a fetal position while her mother lay dead on the floor in a pool of blood. The two men both had shaved heads and wore suits. That must be the Bishop’s official uniform for his goons.  One of them turned and looked at me.

“Who are you?” He asked.

“I’m the Angel of Death,” I said and squeezed his forehead.  His partner hit me, which hurt, but I was able to do my thing as the first goon began screaming and wailing.  He fell on the floor and rolled around in the blood, kicking and screaming.  Goon #2 took a swipe at me with a knife, slicing through my suit and part of my arm.  A sharp sting went up my arm and shoulder as I jumped back.  He came at me again, but this time I was able to grab his knife hand, spin him around, and thrust my fingers through his head.  In my anger, I pushed a little too hard.  I felt his skull crumble in my fingers as he fell over.  I was left standing there holding part of his brains.  I threw them on top of his partner, and walked over to Katie.

“Come on, we gotta go,” I said, putting my hand out to her.  She cowered into the corner, shaking her head at me and staring at my bloody hand. I wiped it on my pants and held it out again.  “I’m serious.  You know I won’t hurt you.  Please?”

She grabbed my hand and I pulled her up.  We stepped over the bodies and ran down the stairs, out to my Tahoe.  Once we climbed in, Katie was breathing so hard, I thought she would hyperventilate.

“Oh my God! My God,  I don’t believe this.  This isn’t happening!” she said.

“Katie, please, try to calm down.  What did they want?”`

“They wanted to know what I told you.  I told them I said nothing, which I really didn’t.  They wouldn’t believe me, so they started to cut my mom until she died.”  She stopped to wipe tears from her eyes.  “Then you came in and did whatever that was.  And you’re supposed to be a preacher?”

“Yeah, I’m like, a special preacher.”

She looked at me without speaking.  I began to drive. I knew exactly where to go.  The first goon I killed had the location of a large mansion in his mind.  It was in the north part of the city, and in that mansion, was the Bishop.  I let my instincts take over and I just drove.  This would be my chance to get to him, finally.  I had to make sure Katie was safe, though.  She had already been through enough.

After being on the road for fifteen minutes, I saw red flashing lights in my rearview mirror.  This was not good.  I was covered with blood from the goon’s head, and Katie looked like hell.  I didn’t want to do my thing to a cop, but if I had no choice, I would do what I had to.  Then, I saw the officer approaching my Tahoe.  It was Stanton.

“Pastor Charlie, you’ve been up to no good.”

“Look, detective, I can explain, okay?  Please, we need to take care of something important.”

“Oh, I’m sure.  I was just at this young lady’s house.  We found the bodies. You left quite a mess.”

“I know.  Those guys came to kill her and her mom.  They work for Bishop Hoover.  There’s a lot going on you don’t know about.”

“Well, then, why don’t you enlighten me?”

“I can’t.  I tell you what.  If you let me deal with this, and take Katie somewhere safe, I’ll turn myself in later and tell you everything.”

Stanton looked over at Katie.

“Ma’am, are you okay?”

“Yes, sir.  Those men tried to hurt me.  Charlie stopped them.  The Bishop really is dangerous.”

“Dangerous how?

I didn’t have time for the questions.  I decided to prove to Stanton what was going on without hurting him.  I grabbed his forehead and let my fingers sink in, took in some of his thoughts for a second and then let go.  He stumbled back, shaking his head.

“What the hell was that?  What did you do to me?”

“Long story.  It’s something I can do.  What the Bishop can do is much worse.  Now do you believe me?”

He looked to Katie, who just nodded. Rubbing his forehead and looking confused, he finally spoke.

“Okay, I’ll call for a uniform to take her to a safe place.  Then I will go with you to find this Bishop.”

When the squad car arrived, Katie left with the officer while Stanton got in with me.  I felt like convincing Stanton had been rather easy, but after what I’d just done to him, he might have been curious as to how this goes.

“Just so you know,” he said.  “If you try anything weird, like that head thing again, I will shoot you.”

“Understood.”

“Is that what you did to the guy who was screaming his head off?  Or the guy whose head you bashed in?”

“I didn’t bash his head.  Hard to explain.  The screaming guy is the usual end result, depending on how long I do it.”

“Beautiful.  So what are you?  Some kind of witch doctor?  I thought you were a preacher.”

“You’ll understand more once we find the Bishop.  After a run in with him, you’ll wish you didn’t know.”

Chapter 34

The Bishop’s mansion was at the end of a long, gated driveway.  I knew there was no way they would just let us in.  He had some goons up front working security.  They stood in front of a large wall with plants growing along the top.  The large metal gate was probably opened by remote from the inside.  I pulled the Tahoe around the corner where we sat and waited.

“So what are we doing?” Stanton asked.

“I’m thinking.  We can’t just go in, the Bishop won’t allow it.”

“I’m a cop.  I bet they’ll let me in.”

“Don’t be so sure.”

“Come on.  I’ll show you.”    He jumped out of the Tahoe, and I had no choice but to follow him.  We walked along the wall until we reached the front gate where one of the goons was standing.  I noticed there was a camera at the top of the wall pointed at the entrance.  Stanton approached the one of the men, also with his head shaved and wearing a suit.

“Can I help you sir?” The man asked.

“Yes.  Detective Jim Stanton, SAPD,” he said as he held up his badge.  “I need to speak with Bishop Hoover please.”

“Speak to him about what, sir?”

“About a couple of his employees we found dead.”

“If you leave me your card, I can have someone from our legal department contact you, Detective.”

Good Lord, the Bishop had a legal department?  Stanton wasn’t going to give up.

“Look, no one is being accused of anything.  I just wanted to ask him a couple of questions is all.”

“I’m afraid he is busy right now.  As I said, if you leave a card, he or his attorney can contact you.”  The man’s expression never changed through the whole conversation.  It was like talking to a recording.  I got tired of doing it Stanton’s way, so I stepped in.  I elbowed my way past Stanton and placed my hand on the man’s head.  I made sure I looked up at the camera the whole time.  The other man ran to stop me, but Stanton drew his gun and held him off.  Within minutes, the man Stanton had been talking to was on the ground, screaming and crying.  Even Stanton looked horrified at what he’d just seen.

“What did you do?” He asked.

“I’m not sure.  You,” I said, pointing at the other man.  Go tell the Bishop what you just saw.”  He stood there staring at me.  “Go!” I said.  He went over to the gate, and pushed in a number on the keypad so the gate opened part way.  He walked in and the gate closed behind him.  His partner remained in the ground writhing in pain and crying.

“What the hell are you?” Stanton asked.  “Did you kill him?”

“Not exactly.  I’ll explain later.”  We waited a few minutes, hoping someone would come back out.  No one returned.  After almost fifteen minutes, the sky began to turn black.  It shouldn’t have been nightfall for a few more hours.  Yet, the sky turned black as night.  Stanton and I watched, thinking it might be some kind of storm.  Something like a shooting star came down and struck the street, causing a small explosion.  Then there was another, and another.  Fire was falling from the sky.  Stanton and I ran for cover.  Balls of fire exploded around us as we hit the street.  I did my best to keep my head down, but as I looked around I could see it was happening all over the city.  It wasn’t rain, but it was fire and brimstone falling from the sky.

We ran a few hundred feet from the gate and across the street.  There was an old gas station there with a large box truck parked outside.  We dove underneath the box truck hoping nothing big enough would hit it.  From what I saw, the brimstone was about the size of baseballs.  We could hear some hitting the top of the truck, but it was thick enough they didn’t burn through.  At least not yet anyway.

“This truck isn’t going to last forever in this,” Stanton said.

“I know, but neither will we.”

“What is going on?”

Before I could answer, we saw the gate open at the Bishop’s mansion.  The Bishop himself came strolling out followed by a news crew of all things.  He walked out to the middle of the street, looking up at the sky.  The fire and brimstone didn’t come near him or the film crew, as if they had some protective shield around them.  He held his arms out to his sides, looking up the sky and spoke.

“Peace, be still.” He said.  No sooner did he finish speaking that the bombardment stopped.  He looked around, smiled, and went back inside.

“Jesus Christ,” Stanton said.  “Did you see that?”

“Of course I saw it.”

“What the hell is going on with you two?”  We both climbed out from under the truck, looking around. The air smelled like burnt sulfur as people came out of their houses to assess the damage. Sirens blared in the background as well.

“I guess you need to know at this point.”  I went on to tell him everything.

Chapter 35

Stanton stood there staring at me speechless as I explained everything to him.  Well, almost everything.  I left out the parts about me nailing people to crosses and cutting them to pieces.  If he thought I was crazy before tonight, he was sure of it now.

“Wow Pastor Charlie, that’s quite a story.”

“You just saw what I saw, right?”

“That I did,” he nodded.  “And I saw what you did to that guy at the gate.  I’ve always been an atheist.  Now I’m not sure what to think.  I should just arrest you know for whatever that was you did.”

“If you arrest me, you’ll take the one person out who has a chance at stopping him.”

“That is, if he can even be stopped.  He made it rain fire for God’s sake.” Stanton said.  “So what does all this mean?  What does he want?”

“It means he wants to exert some sort of control over the city, maybe more.  He was just on national TV the other day doing one of his tricks.  Who knows?”

“But why?” I couldn’t tell if Stanton was just that skeptical or if he was that slow.

“Why does anyone do anything?  Money?  Power?  Both?  Either way, we have to do something.”

“Well I’m not sure what, if the guy just made fire fall from the sky.  Speaking of which, I need to get back to the station and see what damage has been done.”

We walked back toward my Tahoe.  As we looked around, there were dozens of small craters burned into the street.  Houses were burning, both nearby and in the distance. We reached my Tahoe to see it full of holes and on fire.  Stanton took out his cell phone and called his department for a ride.  After a half hour or so, another detective came to pick us up.

He drove me back to the church, since I needed to see what was going on back there.  On the ride back, I could see the damage through the city.  It wasn’t as bad as it could have been, but it was enough.  The Bishop’s plan for this was probably simple.  He caused the disaster, then came out on TV and stopped it so he looked like the hero.  Once we reached the church, I got out of the car.  Stanton told me to call him once I found out more, or before I did anything else.

People were gathered outside the church.  It had sustained a decent amount of damage, but nothing that couldn’t be repaired.  There were holes on the roof and burns along the front and sides.  Several people ran up to me as they saw me arrive.  The questions came fast; I couldn’t even tell who was asking what.  The main thing people wanted to know was if it was from God and was it some sort of sign.  I didn’t have an answer for either.  I wanted to be cautious in my words about him anyway.  Though I knew how dangerous he was, some in my church had bought into his game completely.

As we were gathering, a black Lincoln pulled up.  It wasn’t the Bishop though.  A tall man in a suit got out of the driver’s side.  This guy had hair at least, and shook my hand.

“Hello Pastor Charlie, how are you?” He asked.  His hair was black and combed straight back.  His teeth were a little too white.

“I’m okay under the circumstances.”

“Very good.  Bishop Hoover has sent us out among the local churches.  My name is Peter Kemper.  He would like me to speak to God’s people about what happened tonight and to offer our assistance.”

“Well sure, that would be fine.  I’m sure all of us could use some reassurance.”  I said and stepped away from the door.  It was against my better judgment but I was curious what he’d say.  I also found it interesting that the Bishop was sending goons out to churches, like disciples.  I figured this was another chance for him to pull people into his fold.  Everyone filed into the church while Peter took his place at the pulpit.  I went up front to introduce him.

“Good evening everyone.  Thank you for coming out tonight.  I’m glad to see everyone is safe after tonight’s events.  We have a special guest tonight; Peter Kemper is here to discuss with us what happened.”

“Thank you Pastor Charlie,” he began.  “Bishop Hoover sent me here tonight.  As some of you know, he stood among the fire and brimstone that rained down from the sky and rebuked the storm raining from the sky.  The Lord heard his cry and saved our city from further judgment, such has not been seen since Sodom and Gomorrah,” he said in his southern drawl.

He paused, looking around at the stunned faces in the church.

“What happened tonight was nothing less than judgment from Almighty God!  Judgment for our sins, and judgment for the wolves in sheep’s clothing we have allowed among us.  Even here in your little church, there is a wolf, seeking to devour all of God’s sheep.”

There was a collective gasp as people began looking around, trying to figure out who the wolf was among them.  I knew he was talking about me.  I wondered if he would call me out by name.

“God knows who this man is.  The Bishop knows too and this man will be dealt with under God’s entire wrath.  He will become a vessel of God’s destruction.  All false prophets will be dealt with as the Bishop prepares the way for the day of the Lord!”

People began to shout “Amen!” while some were crying.  Others walked up front and began praying as Peter quietly stepped down and knelt at the altar in prayer.  I knew what he was doing.  Creating panic and dissention in my church, probably other churches too, that way the Bishop can slide right in and take over.  It was a good plan; I’d have done the same thing.  As people went forward to pray, I walked into the church foyer to get a drink of water.  As I bent down over the fountain, there was a voice from behind me.

“You’re not doing a very good job of stopping the Bishop.”  It said.  I turned around and saw it was David Davidson.

Chapter 36

I had to restrain myself from jumping on Davidson and tearing his face off.

“You’re not giving me much help,” I said. “You show up, give some vague hints, and then tell me to stop him.  As he gets stronger and builds this entire enterprise, you all get mad over how I go about stopping him.  What am I supposed to do with all that?  Then he goes and makes it rain fire and brimstone?”

David looked toward the sanctuary where everyone began singing A Mighty Fortress is our God.

“Yes, that was him.  It’s all him.  God has put him on a long leash for some reason.  I don’t know why, nor do I know why he chose you to go after him.  But he has, so you need to quit standing around and do something.”

This was starting to piss me off.  One thing I hated more than anything was a Monday morning quarterback.  You see it a lot in churches.  People who don’t lift a finger to get involved with anything, but they do nothing but critique the ones who do.  Unfortunately, Christians are notorious for it.  Apparently angels aren’t exempt from it, either.  I didn’t want to talk in the foyer any longer, so I stepped outside for some air.  Davidson followed me without a word.

“So why don’t you do something Mr. Angel?”  I asked.  “Bust the Bishop in the face with your harp or something.  I can’t even get close to him unless I’m tied to a chair or something.  You could drop right in and zap him.”

“I’m under orders not to.  You remember the last time an angel disobeyed God don’t you?”

He was talking about Lucifer of course.  For anyone who hasn’t heard the story, Lucifer was a beautiful angel who led others in worship.  He became jealous of God and tried to rise up against him.  God cast him out of heaven long with one third of the angelic host.  He now roams the earth, better known as Satan or the Devil.  His fellow fallen ones are demons.  David’s reference to Lucifer made me wonder just where he was in all of this, unless the Bishop was Lucifer, or worked for him perhaps.

“You know what David,” I said.  “I think I’m about done taking orders from you.  The Bishop could have killed me several times, but hasn’t for whatever reason.”

“He’s toying with you.”

“How do I even know God sent you?  How do I know the Bishop isn’t for real for that matter?’  I hated second guessing myself but I felt like I had my back against the wall.  The Bishop’s little display tonight showed all of us that he could wipe us all out in an instant if he chose to, and God apparently wasn’t going to do anything about it.

“You don’t know Charlie, that’s what faith is about.”

“You know what, fuck faith.  I’m done.  You’ve toyed with me way more than the Bishop.”  I turned and began walking.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” David said.

“Why?  What are you gonna do?”

He stared at me for a moment, so I turned and began walking again.

“Charlie, stop right now.” He yelled.

“Whatever happened to free will?” I yelled back.

I heard footsteps coming up on me.  I spun around and saw David running toward me, but as he ran his body began to change.  His head morphed into something that looked like a wolf, except with no hair.  Huge wings protruded from his back, except they didn’t look like angels wings.  They were large, black and leathery, like what you’d see on a bat.  He grew several inches as he bore his teeth, spread his wings and stood before me.

I turned again, but this time I took off running.  In seconds, he soared through the air and took me down, landing on my back as I face planted into the concrete.  I struggled to get my breath as the thing’s hot breath snorted on the back of my neck.

“You’re not really an angel are you?” I grunted.

“And you’re not very bright, pastor.”  The thing growled.  I tried to move, but its huge talons were pinning me down.  “Someone wants to talk to you,” it said.  As he spoke, there was a loud explosion and a plume of smoke came from the ground a few feet in front of me.  The smoke swirled and slowly cleared, revealing a man.

“It’s okay my friend.”  The man said to the thing on top of me.  “You can let him up.”  The thing stepped off of me, letting out a growl for good measure.  I sat up and looked at the visitor.  He was slightly taller than me, had dark hair and a beard, both neatly trimmed.  The man was wearing blue jeans and a dark sport coat.  He came toward me and held out his hand to help me stand.

“Hi Charlie,” he said.  “I’m Lucifer.  We need to talk.”

Chapter 37

The man who called himself Lucifer looked me up and down for a moment as I got to my feet.  It had been warm and humid just a few moments before, but it felt as if the temperature had dropped at least ten degrees in the last couple minutes.  I looked at the thing that used to be Davidson and saw he had turned back into himself.  He gave me a wink as I glanced at him; I was back to wanting to rip his face off.

“So Lucifer,” I began.  “What the hell?”  Not the most profound thing I could think of, but I was at a loss for words at the moment.

“Yeah, I imagine you’re a bit confused.  Sorry about that.”

“So you and your guy here had me thinking God wanted me to stop the bishop, and it was you all along?  And you expect me to believe you’re actually the devil?”

“I don’t expect you to believe anything.  But I am the devil, as you like to say.  Lucifer isn’t even my real name, but that’s what everyone knows me by.”

“So what is your real name?”

“You couldn’t pronounce it in your language, so Lucifer is fine for now.”

“Why did you and your guy here lie to me?”  I asked.

“I’m the devil.  I’m known to do that.” He shrugged.

“Right.”

“Okay, Charlie, here’s the thing.”  He took out a cigarette and lit it.  “You’re a man of the Book, so you know the score here.”

He was referring to the Bible of course.

“Since when does the devil smoke?”

He glanced at his cigarette and took a drag.

“Eh, nervous habit when I’m appearing to you mortals.”

“Nice.  And yes, I think I do know the score.  At least I thought I did.  Not sure what the score is now, or what game we’re even playing.”

“Indeed.  Just so you know, I didn’t entirely lie to you.  The best lies are ninety percent truth you know.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“This one was maybe ninety-nine percent.”  He nodded toward Davidson.  “Ezrael there is an angel, a fallen one, but an angel no less.  You might call him a demon.  You are really descended from the Nephilim, all that stuff is true.  The part I lied about was God sending Ezrael.”

“Yeah, I figured that part was a lie.  So, why all the theatrics?  The Bishop is obviously shady.  I figured he’d be right up your alley.”

“Well, that’s just it, Chuck.”

“Charlie.”

“Whatever.”  He dropped off some ashes and took another drag.

“So what?  The Bishop is some kind of rogue demon who got out of hand so you want me to stop him or something?”

“Unfortunately, it’s nothing that simple.”

“Then, what?”

“Well,” he looked down for a moment as if he was searching for words.  Who would have thought the devil himself could be bashful.  “God kind of sent him.”

“Kind of sent him?”  I didn’t like where this was going.

“Okay, he did send him, and then some.”

“Are you capable of spitting out the truth?  Why should I believe anything you say?  You’re the great deceiver!”

He shook his head, laughing.

“Charlie, I got a really bad rap in that book.  It’s too bad us celestial beings can’t sue for libel.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Okay, I mean, I did do some bad stuff.  But they blame everything on me in there.  If only people knew the truth.”

“And just what is that?”

“Okay, enough games.  The Bishop.  You might know him as the Christ, Jesus type.”  He let that hang for a second.  When I didn’t react he repeated it.  “Jesus Christ, also known as Yeshua, the Son of God, The Lamb, Son of David, Son of man, all that good stuff.  He is the Bishop.  This is his second coming.  You there?”

I apparently wasn’t since he had to practically shout at me before I responded.  The Bishop was Jesus?  That made no sense whatsoever.  Then again, neither had anything else up till this point.  Very little of anything the Bishop had done so far matched up with the life of Jesus in the Gospels.  Even in the Gospels, Jesus warned of false Christs.

“How do I know this isn’t more lies?” I asked.

“Well first off, look at the crap he’s done.  I have a few tricks up my sleeve, but I can’t make fire fall from the sky.”

“Okay, so, say you are telling the truth.  What could I do about it? You think I could stop God?  Why would I want to anyway?  I’m a man of God.”

He shook his head again, placing his hand on my shoulder.

“Charlie, God doesn’t want you.  You are an abomination, a mistake.  Your ancestors are demons.  You think he wants anything to do with you?”

I didn’t want to admit it, but he had a point.  The mere thought made me want to throw up.  All my life, I’d tried to serve God with every fiber of my being, and it’s all been a lie.

“For God’s sake Charlie.  You butcher people you think are sinners and say it’s because God told you to?  You’re more like me than Him my friend.”

Deep down, I felt he was telling the truth, yet I wanted to hit him, to lash out and cut him wide open.  I wanted to see if the devil could bleed and die like a person.  I imagined him hanging from my cross as I sliced him to pieces.

“Don’t you touch me,” I said through gritted teeth.

“You can help me Charlie. We can work together to stop this.  You can help me rule this stupid little planet.  These mortals have nothing on you; you’re far superior to any of them.  You’ve always known it.”

I pulled away from him and stepped back.  I knew I couldn’t take him in a head-on fight.  He had a few more years’ experience in this sort of thing.

“Look Charlie, I know it’s a lot to take in.  But just face it.  The stuff in that book, its only part truth.  Fact is, what goes on in the spirit realm is nothing like you could imagine.  The Bible doesn’t even come close to explaining it.”

“You’re a liar!”

“Really?  So who are you going to help?  God, who has clearly rejected you?  Look at how many times his man the Bishop has come after you last few days.  You’ve seen how he really operates.  You want to serve that for eternity?”

He had a point, but I just wanted to get out of there.  I wanted to run and give all of this up.  I could go be a teacher or something, something with nothing to do with religion and just pretend I never knew any of this.  Finally, I did turn and ran as fast as I could.  I hoped I’d imagined everything.  As I ran I heard an explosion behind me.  Turning to look, I saw he was gone.  I was sure he’d be back, though.  I stopped at the corner to catch my breath.  I needed to call Stanton.  We had to pay the Bishop a visit, I had a feeling he would meet with us this time.  We had a lot to discuss.

Chapter 38

I stopped at a gas station and bought a pre-paid cell phone and then called Stanton.  He arrived about twenty minutes later to pick me up.  I filled him in on the events at the church.  He took less convincing this time than he did earlier, but I still wasn’t sure how much of this he believed.

“So we’re going back to the Bishop’s place after what happened last time?”  He asked.

“Yes, I know.  Things have changed though.  He’ll see us this time.”

“Great. Do I want him to see us?”

“Yes, it’ll be fine.  Besides, if he refuses this time, we’ll just ram the car through the front gate.”

Stanton glared at me.

“What the hell kind of preacher are you?  You do freaky things to people, the devil supposedly visits you.  The Bishop is supposedly Jesus now, but you want to go try and kill him.”

“Yes I know.  A lot doesn’t make sense to me either.  Something big is going down though either way.  A lot of lives are at stake and we have a chance to be in the middle of it and do something.”

“Not sure I want to be in the middle of this.”

“Like it or not, you are.”

“Beautiful.”

He shook his head as we were silent the rest of the way.  When we reached the Bishop’s mansion, Stanton pulled right up to the front gate which swung open this time.  There was new guy in a suit standing inside as we pulled through.  Stanton stopped as the guy knelt down by the window.

“The Bishop is expecting you.”

We pulled up to the front of the mansion and stepped out of the car.  Another nameless goon in a suit came out to escort us inside.  We walked down a long hallway that was covered with paintings and old furniture.  The place reminded me of a museum, I was afraid to touch anything.  We reached a large set of wooden double doors, the man pushed them open and we stepped into a large office.  It looked like a judge’s chambers with a large oak desk, a big leather executive chair, and bookshelves lining the walls.  In front of the desk were four high backed chairs.

It was no surprise a lot of the books were religious texts.  Though I was surprised to see copies of the Koran, the Talmud and books on Buddhism; there were several Christian writings as well.  Many of the books looked extremely old.  A door behind me open and closed, I spun around to see the Bishop standing by the desk.

“Well, hello gentlemen.  Good to see you Pastor Charlie.  Who is your little friend?”  He said as he pulled the chair up behind him.  “Please have a seat.”  He gestured to the high backed chairs.  We both sat and he looked at us with the same smile on his face as if nothing had changed at all in the last twenty four hours.

“So,” he began.  “You’ve had quite a night tonight haven’t you?  And I hear you had a special visitor.”  He was referring to my visit from Lucifer.

“Yes, I guess you could say that.” I said.  “So is what Lucifer said true?”

“Which part?”

“All of it.  About my heritage and about who you really are.”

“I’m afraid so my friend.  You are indeed a descendent of fallen angels.  As repulsive as that may sound, it’s true.  And on the last thing, yes, I am the Christ.”

I couldn’t believe he was actually saying it.

“You don’t believe me do you?” He said as he held up his hands, showing two large bloodied holes in his hands.  “Do you need to put your fingers through my wounds, Doubting Thomas?”

He lowered his hands, and then held them up again, this time the holes were gone.

“Okay, so what is this all about?” I asked.

“You don’t seem impressed.  You are in the presence of the Lord.”

“Guess it hasn’t sunk in yet.”

“Perhaps.  What is this about?  Well I think that is simple.  I have returned for the separating of the sheep and the goats.  The sheep will be with me in eternity, the goats will be led to slaughter.”

“So you’re going to just kill everyone that doesn’t follow you?”

“That’s kind of what the book says isn’t it?  You’ve been preaching this your whole life.  Don’t get all skittish now just because time has run out.  Unfortunately for most of you, there are far more goats than sheep, including many goats who think they are sheep.”

“You mean Christians.”

“Exactly.  You all ramble on and on about faith.  Yet your own faith is empty, all of you.”  He stood and turned his back to us, looking out the large window behind the desk.  “You go to your fancy churches, say your prayers, sing your songs, put a dollar in the offering plate.  Then you drive home and tell the guy who cut you off on the freeway to fuck off.”

Stanton and I looked at each other, stunned by the Bishop or Christ swearing.  The Bishop continued.  “In the meantime, people are starving, dying or killing each other.”   He cast me a glance as he said the last part.  “While children are starving, women are suffering.”  He turned to face me.  “Charlie, do you remember a young girl in your church who got pregnant last year?  Her name was Amber.  She was nineteen.”

“Yes,” I said. “I remember.  She wasn’t married or anything.  Some people gave her a hard time.  One of my associate pastors prayed with her a few times but then she stopped coming to church.”

“Yes, that’s right.  She stopped going because one of the ladies in your church called her a whore, called her baby a bastard, and said there was no place in God’s house for a slut like her.  Did you know that?”

I sank down a bit in my chair.

“No.  No I didn’t.”

“Do you know where Amber is now?”

I shook my head.

“She’s dead.  She killed herself a few months after her baby was born.  She left the baby at an emergency room, went home and swallowed enough pills to OD a horse.”

“My God,” I said.

“Yes, your God indeed.”

“So if you’re the Christ, why didn’t you stop her?  You obviously know her whole situation.  Why didn’t you save her?”

“I tried, Charlie.  I put you and your church right in her path!”  His voice got louder as he moved toward me.  “Yet you were so tied up with programs, goofy sermons and then let’s not forget your own little hobby, you failed the one simple thing I told all of you to do.  Love each other.”

Even Stanton looked like he might cry.  At this point I knew how the Pharisees must have felt when Jesus chastised them.  I felt about two inches tall, as if I had missed the point entirely.  I was a Pharisee, we all were.  A wave of sadness swelled up inside me.  I’d never felt true sadness before.  I’d always been so empty, simply existing from day to day.  Up until that moment, I was nothing more than a vehicle carrying out a series of tasks and behaviors.  This time, I felt sadness, true sadness.  As bad as it felt, it almost felt good just to feel something.  My throated tightened up and it became hard to swallow.  I felt tears fill my eyes as I looked up at the Bishop.

He put his hand on my shoulder as his eyes met mine.

“It’s okay,” he said.

As he placed his hand on my shoulder, I felt warmth like I’d never felt before.  It wasn’t heat, but internal warmth.  I’d never felt real love before, but this must be what it felt like.  I’m not referring to romantic love, but compassionate love people normally feel for their friends or family.  It’s not that no one ever loved me. I could just never feel it.  The Bible tells us “God is love.” That moment gave me an idea of what that meant.

“My Lord,” I cried.  “Please forgive me of my sins.”

I knelt down before him, looking down at the floor.  He stood before me as if considering it.  After a few minutes he took his hand off my shoulder and stepped away.

“I’m sorry, my friend,” he said.  “For you, I’m afraid it’s not that simple.”

Chapter 39

I looked up at the Bishop feeling as if I’d just been punched in the stomach.

“What do you mean not that simple?” I asked.  Stanton sat in his chair watching all this as if he were watching TV.

“When I was on earth the first time, it was to save mankind.  I came as the Lamb, to be sacrificed.   You are not a man, at least not completely.  Now, I have come back as the Lion of Judah, to bring judgment to mankind.  Once again, I guess you’d technically be excluded from that, but there are other arrangements.”

“I know I’m not fully human.  What does that have to do with anything?  It’s not like I can help it.”

“It has everything to do with it.  There was a reason I had your kind eradicated thousands of years ago.  At least I tried too anyway.  A few of you squeaked by, though, and here you are.  I’ve thought of wiping you out several times, but you were doing such a good job of doing my work for me, I just let you go.  Well, until recently, when you’ve been all up in my business. Now you’re just a nuisance.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. For one, here was Jesus himself being a much bigger smart ass than I could have imagined.  I guess being the Son of God he can do that.  This whole experience seemed like a weird dream.

“I can’t help who my ancestors were,” I said.

“No my friend, you can’t.”  The Bishop sat back down behind his desk.  “But look at you. You’re a mess. You slice people to pieces, and pour them down the drain.  Granted, most of them were rotten to the core, and they’d never turn to me for anything.  Now, you do that thing with turning people to zombies.  Very creepy stuff, but I know you can’t help yourself.  It’s in your DNA, literally.”

Hearing him talk about me as if I were some kind of concept or experiment made me want to throw up.  Stanton looked like he was trying to decide whether to shoot just me, or both of us.

“What is he talking about?  Cutting people to pieces?”

“I’ll explain later,” I turned to the Bishop.  “So that’s it then?  You’re just going to destroy the world?”

“You make it sound so harsh.  You all knew this day was coming.  It’s just that most of you Christian folks thought you’d be raptured into big, pretty mansions in the sky while the rest of the world suffered horrible atrocities.  Then you all come back from the sky with me and some army of flaming horses to destroy the sinners.”  He waved his hand and laughed.  “I went through everything I did on the cross years ago, yet all of you thought you’d be exempt from the slightest bit of discomfort?  Please.  It’s pathetic.  You folks act like you’re being persecuted if someone looks at you wrong.  All of you have missed the point completely.”

“That’s not true!  My church is full of good people who are full of love. They love you, they love each other.”

“Oh, stop it.  They love their cable TV and foamy lattes.  Anything that disrupts that is a waste of their time.  At least you have some ambition.  That’s why I tried to get you to help me.  I could never let you into God’s kingdom, no way.  But, I suppose I could have made things a little better for you.  Either way, I’m going to keep you around a little longer.  Let you watch the show.”

“So everything I’ve believed in the Bible is a lie?”

“Oh no, it’s true.  Just remember, there is a lot in the Bible that has been translated or interpreted.  Things prophesied in the Bible will happen, just not the way any of you thought they would.  Especially that Tim LaHaye fellow, he’s truly off his rocker.”

Stanton stood up and tapped my shoulder.

“Well, that’s all good to know.” Stanton said.  “I think we should go.”

“Oh, Detective Stanton, I never said you were going anywhere,” the Bishop said.  With a wave of his hand, Stanton fell lifeless to the ground.

“Stanton!” I shouted, kneeling beside him feeling for his pulse.  Nothing.  “He’s dead.”

“Well, of course he is.”

“How can you just kill like that?  You’re supposed to be the Christ!”

“Yes, what does the Book say?  The Lord giveth, the Lord taketh away, blessed be the name of the Lord.”

“You’re sick!”

“No, I’m God.  You can bring him back if you want.  You know how.”

“Right. I’ll spare him that.”

“I think you missed something here.  You and our pals spend your whole lives reading and studying that book, analyzing it, dissecting it.  It’s got lots of good information, but it barely touches the truth of what I really am.  That is simply what I chose to reveal at that time.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Let’s just say people back in those days weren’t very hard to convince of my deity.  Though you folks today aren’t much harder.”

“What?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t understand.  Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

“I’m not ready to…” before I could finish speaking, I was back in my apartment standing in my living room.

The whole thing was too much to believe.  Stanton was dead, the Bishop was Jesus Christ, but Christ isn’t who or what any of us thought he was.  He was here to end the world, and there wasn’t much I could do to stop him.  What was the point?  He wanted to keep me alive to watch the show as he called it.  I figured he’d kill me after everything was over with, but who knew? Part of me wished he just killed me and got it over with.  Whatever was about to happen, I suddenly felt exhausted.  I hadn’t slept much in the last few days, if the world was going to end soon, the least I could do was to take a nap.   Maybe it would all be over with when I woke up.

I walked into my bedroom, undressed and climbed into bed.  I thought of the whole conversation with the Bishop, Dave and Lucifer.  It was all too much.  The days when I knew who was right and who was wrong seemed so long ago.  Now I wasn’t even sure who was good or evil or who or what God even was.  It didn’t even matter since we were all about to die.  I closed my eyes before thinking too much made me crazy.  Luckily sleep took me before the Bishop or death could.

Chapter 40

I woke up slowly wiping the fog of sleep from my eyes.  I must have slept for at least twelve hours.  As my vision cleared, I almost jumped out of my skin when I saw the man sitting in my room.  It was Lucifer, sitting in a chair with his legs crossed and reading one of my theology books.  I think this one was a study on Isaiah and the fall of Lucifer himself.

“My God, you scared the hell out of me.”  I said.  “You creatures seriously need to knock that off.”

“Sorry.  I guess subtlety isn’t in our nature.”  He said.  I suppose I should have been more shocked at waking up to find the devil himself sitting in my bedroom, but recent events had jaded my threshold of fear.

“What do you want?” I asked.  He closed the book and glanced at the cover.

“Interesting book,” he said.  “I have to disagree with the author’s interpretation of Isaiah.  But in fairness to him and Isaiah, neither of them has ever been to what you know as heaven.  Oh well.  I should thank him.  Generations have feared me because of it.  I was the first one to stand up to your God.  I think now you might have an idea why.  I mean, really.  He says he gives you free will, or a choice.  If you’re an angel, that means he will cast you into the abyss if you don’t follow him.  If you’re a human he will send you to hell, which is basically another name for the abyss—if you don’t follow him.  Some choice, huh?  That’s like an abusive husband telling his wife.  ‘Oh no, it’s your choice to make me dinner, totally up to you.  I’ll just beat you to a bloody pulp if you don’t.  Your choice though.’”

“Very deep,” I said.  “You should write a review and post it on Amazon.”

He laughed and tossed the book aside.

“Nice!  I like you Charlie.  You don’t rattle easily.  We’re more alike than you may realize.”

I just rolled my eyes.

“Anyway,” he continued.  “You go and see your savior after we talked?”

“I did.”

“And how’d that go?”

“Well, you were right.  He said he’s here for his second coming.  I was skeptical at first, but then he put his hand on me.  The power I felt then, I had no doubt he is the Christ.  He said he plans to wipe out mankind, except his true believers, who are far fewer in number than any of us could have ever guessed.  Then he killed my friend with a wave of his hand.”

“Yeah.  He can be a douche like that,” Lucifer said.

“I even tried to submit to him once I realized he was God.  I bowed my head, acknowledged him.  He said it wasn’t that easy for me; that I’m an abomination and he’s going to keep me alive so I can have a front row seat to the end of the world.  I want to stop him, but I don’t know how.  My whole life and belief system has been a lie.”

“I think you do know how to stop him, Charlie.”

“What do you mean?”

“He didn’t kill you because he can’t.  He’s not sparing your life.  He’s unable to.  You’re not human, so he can’t just wave his hand and drop you to the floor.  Why do you think he hasn’t killed me?  We were made differently.  He’s convinced you that you’re powerless.  Hell, he does that to humans.  The whole Bible tells humans they are powerless.  He’s got everyone convinced they are useless without him.”

I had to admit, he had a point.  So what did this mean for me and anyone else of faith?  What if God isn’t really God after all? Perhaps he’s not what we thought he was.  Evidence was starting to point in that direction, as much as I didn’t want to believe it.  It’s hard to accept that the God you worshiped and modeled your life after is really a power hungry being who views you as little more than a biology experiment.

“So, what do I do?”

“What you do best, Charlie.  You kill him.”

“Kill Christ?  Yeah, that sounds like a plan.”

“I’m serious.  Only you can do it.  With that necromancy thing you can do.  Right now he’s in a human body.  Same as the first time he was here.  He eats, he sleeps, he shits and he can bleed and die.”

“You’d think he’d have done something more fool proof if he planned to come back and destroy humanity.  Even Revelation said he’ll come from heaven with an army of angels or something.”

“That was all allegory.  Most of Revelation was about Rome and Nero.  It was never about the end of the world.”

“Wow, really?”  I had heard some of this before.

“Oh, yeah.  Nero was the beast of the Revelation.  The last half of Revelation is about the end of the world, but once again, a lot was allegory.  As you see, he has returned, with an army of sorts.  Just not like was depicted in the prophecy.  It’s all in interpretation.”

“Interesting.”

“Yeah.  Okay, Bible lesson is over.  I can help you.  I’m not the monster you’ve been led to believe your whole life.”

“Well that’s reassuring,” I said.

“Well, how many people have you seen me kill so far?”

“Good point.”

“That thing you saw the Bishop do on TV, the mass healing?  When the time is right, he’s gonna wave his hand again so to speak, and turn all of creation on itself.  People will tear each other apart without a second thought to what they are doing.  It will be at his command, and will be a bloody mess the world over.”

I sat there, saying nothing.

“Okay,” he continued.  “You know what he can do.  You have to get close enough to him to stop him for good.”

“I doubt he’ll let me in his mansion again.”

“You’re right, he won’t.”

“Can’t he just come back again if I kill him?”

“We’ll worry about that when the time comes.  We need to take care of one incarnation at a time.”

“How do I get close enough?”

“I’ll help you.  I am Lucifer, after all.”

“Can’t you just zap me back in front of him like how you seem to pop in and out?”

“No, he’s got some kind of halo around him.  Not a true halo, but like an energy around him that keeps me at a distance.  We don’t need to do that anyway. I have my own tricks up my sleeve.”

I must have looked confused when he said that, since he felt the need to explain.

“Okay, Bible scholar.  Lucifer is Latin.  It means, I am the Light Bearer.”

Chapter 41

Lucifer went on to give details of the Bishop’s next service at the Alamodome on Sunday night.  I had almost lost track of what day it was.  It was Saturday, so I had very little time, but if the world was going to end, then the sooner the better.  Lucifer figured with the things the Bishop had done so far, that he would be up to something big on Sunday.  I didn’t doubt him. He’d been right about everything else so far.

First thing I had to do was get another car, now that my Tahoe had been torn apart by the fire and brimstone. I took a cab to a local car dealership and bought an older Ford Explorer with what was left of my savings.  It was nothing to brag about, but it would get me around.  Worst case scenario, it just had to get me through Sunday.

I drove to the church only to find no one had been there in days.  There was a sign on the door that said will be meeting at the Alamodome for the Bishop’s services until further notice.  I suppose that’s what happens when the senior pastor stops showing up for a while.  Little did they know they’d be seeing Christ himself speaking.  They also didn’t know that none of this religion business was what it seemed.  I guess that made sense, to be honest.  Churches and ministries, when you look into the gears that run them, are never what they appear to be on the outside.  Only makes sense that the same would go for the beings we worship.  It definitely wasn’t what we learned in Sunday school.

Once in my office, I looked through my desk, where I found a cross I used to hang on my wall, but the nail had come out of the dry wall.  Too bad the Bishop wasn’t a vampire; the cross might do me some good.  I considered taking it with me to waive it in the Bishop’s face just for effect, but thought better of it.

Lucifer seemed confident in me, but I was still trying to figure out how to kill God (for us Protestant folks, Jesus is one-third of the Trinity, so is in some part God himself).  Then again, I’d be killing a fleshly incarnation of God, not actual God, which made me wonder if this would upset the other two thirds of the trinity.  If he was in the flesh as a man, he should be able to die like anyone else.  If not, things would get rather messy Sunday night.

I headed out into the Explorer and back to the city.  There were plenty of signs remaining of the fire and brimstone from the other night.  News trucks were all over town from the major cable networks.  I’m sure the big televangelists had plenty to say about it.  Joel Osteen’s church was just a few hours away in Houston.  No telling what his take would be, other than that God didn’t touch Houston because it is blessed.  I’ve been to Houston, and of all the words I’d use to describe it, blessed wouldn’t be one of them.

I drove by the Alamodome, surprised to see it took on very little damage.  Perhaps the Bishop protected it from his wrath so he’d have a venue.  Oddly enough, he had yet to speak publicly about the fire storm.  No doubt he was saving it for the Sunday night service, to draw as big a crowd as possible.  Guess I shouldn’t pretend to know the mind of God, unless Lucifer thinks my hand on the head trick will work on him.  I’d find out soon enough.

The Alamodome was located in downtown San Antonio, not too far from the Riverwalk.  I was hungry so I headed down that way.  The Riverwalk had tons of shops and restaurants.  There were some great Tex-Mex places if you liked that kind of food.  I preferred authentic Mexican food, but Tex-Mex was the best you’d do on the Riverwalk.  Most tourists didn’t know the difference, but Tex-Mex was more dressed up more than and not as spicy as the authentic food.  I found a place that wasn’t too crowded and sat down.  Before the waitress brought me my drink, Lucifer walked in, sliding into the booth across from me.

“Hi, Charlie,” he said.

“I’m not buying you lunch.”

“Yeah, I’m not too hungry these days.”  He said, though he fumbled with the menu.  “I figured we could coordinate some kind of plan.”

“I guess.  Isn’t He all knowing, like if we have a plan or something?”

He laughed as he shook his head.

“You Bible scholars crack me up.  He’s not as all knowing as you might think.  At least not in the way you think.”

“What about the Father and the Trinity and all that?”

“It’s there, yet not how you think.  They all three exist, but do not communicate or function in the way as has been interpreted.   It’s hard to explain to a human.”

“I thought I wasn’t human.”

“Touché.”   He flipped through the menu, pretending he was looking at something.  “But you’re close enough to being human to not get it.  Fact is, we’re just different beings, or even different species, I guess.  They are too, just on a whole different plane.  They can take human form, as in actually occupy a body.  I could too, but I’d have to possess someone to do it.  But when they are incarnated as a human, they are just as vulnerable.”

“Wow.” I said.

“Yeah, I know.  You probably felt the same way when you learned there was no Santa Claus. “

“I never believed in Santa.  So where do you go when you poof away?”  You hang out in hell and torture lost souls or something?”

“Hell, that’s another good one.  No, I roam the earth regularly.  I don’t have a home.  I don’t eat or sleep either, so it’s not really an issue.  Hell is the abyss like I told you about earlier.  God made it just for creatures like me and you and humans who he’s about to wipe out.  It’s just an eternal void of nothingness.  Imagine being in a state of consciousness for eternity, but with no sound, no one to talk to, nothing but darkness.  Can’t even hear your own voice, just nothing.”

“Yeah, that does sound pretty horrible.”

“Well, if the Bishop and his buddies have their way that is where you and I and most of humanity are headed.”

“That sounds very unpleasant.  What about the good people?”

“Once all is said and done, the Father will absorb all of them into himself.  All mortals came from him, and into him they will return.  They will spend eternity feeling the bliss of being one with him.”

“Wow, that’s quite interesting.”

“Like I said, hard for a human to wrap their brain around it.”

“So you’d rather risk the abyss than be one with the Father?”

“I don’t see why there can’t be some kind of in between.  Why all the extremes?  Just because you have power doesn’t mean you have to use it constantly.  You’re talking all this rather calmly.”

“Well, freaking out at this point won’t help anything.”

“True.  Enough of Sunday school.  Let’s figure out how to take care of this mess.  Once he’s dead, he can come back, but I know from last time, human death takes a lot out of him.  So it will be awhile.”

“Okay, that’s sort of comforting.”

Lucifer began to explain what some of his own abilities were and how I could use mine.  We went over the layout of the venue and security.  Oddly enough, the more he talked the better I felt.  Maybe we weren’t all doomed after all.

Chapter 42

Sunday night show time came around at the Alamodome.  The service didn’t start until seven, but there was a line outside by noon.  Some folks looked like they may have camped out overnight.  People were having cookouts in the parking lot, actually tailgating for a church service.  If only these folks knew what they were about to witness.  I wasn’t sure if I knew exactly.  The mere idea of it sounded like something you’d read from Greek mythology, or even the Old Testament.  Perhaps the two were more closely related than we thought.

I stood outside waiting with the rest of the crowd.  There were families waiting together, some were in wheelchairs.  There were private ambulances lined up outside as well.  They were most likely transporting seriously ill people straight into the stadium.  The Bishop was going to go all out on this night.  The end of the world was here, and we all had a front row seat.

The doors opened at five and people started filing in.  I couldn’t help but feel like I was seeing all these lambs being led to the slaughter.  When I finally found my seat, I realized I spoke too soon on the front row seat statement.  Despite getting there hours early, my seat was in the upper levels of the back row.  Any further back and I’d have been on the roof.  At least I could watch the world end on the Jumbo-tron.  No way could I have reached the Bishop from that spot, but if Lucifer came through, our plan might still work.  Lucifer was sure my gift was more versatile than I’d seen so far; it looked like we would be finding out very soon.

At exactly seven, the lights went down and everyone began to cheer.  It was pitch black for several minutes, then spotlights shined all over the crowd, as if they were scanning the audience.  On the JumboTron, a video began to play.  It showed the Bishop conducting baptisms in a river.  The Hallelujah Chorus from Handel’s Messiah was playing, and then there was a loud explosion.  The stage was filled with smoke, but you could see the Bishop rising from the center of the stage with his arms extended as if he was Moses parting the Red Sea. Oddly enough, the effect reminded me of a concert where a rock star got shot up onto the stage from underneath.

He jumped off the platform and waved his arms as the crowd went wild.

“Good evening San Antonio!” He shouted.  “Are you ready to worship the Lord?”

People screamed as if they were losing their minds.  A woman next to me was waving her arms and had already started crying.

“Great!  I have no doubt that the Lord God Almighty will do something amazing tonight!  Are you ready?”

As he spoke, his worship band began to play.  I couldn’t even make out what they were playing; it was so loud and distorted.  Not that it mattered; people were jumping up and down, clapping and singing.  Some were falling over as if they were having seizures while others began chanting in tongues.  I thought it was awful early in the service to start all that, but I guess they’d been gearing up all day for it.  Lucifer told me I would know is queue and when to do my thing.   I just hoped my “thing” would work.

From there it was usual church fare: overblown prayers, more songs, a few healings, songs, him preaching about how great he and God were, and then more songs.  Then I saw him.  I don’t know how he made it past security, nor did I want to know.  But Lucifer was standing on the edge of the stage.

“Children of God,” the Bishop had been preaching.  “God has a great plan for you!  He—“the Bishop paused.  “Well, can I help you sir?” The Bishop said when he saw Lucifer.  He looked around probably trying to figure out where his security was.  I couldn’t help but notice Lucifer had cleaned up well.  He was wearing a dark suit and tie, but still had the beard and his hair combed back.  I wondered what he looked like when not appearing human.

“You know who I am, Bishop.”

“That I do, but these fine people do not.”

“Why don’t you tell them who you are first, and why you’re here?”

“What?  And spoil the surprise?  Don’t be ridiculous.  You always have been a sore loser.”

I could hear murmuring in the crowd as I noticed the temperature in the building had dropped significantly.  I don’t think people were sure if this was part of the show or not.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” The Bishop began.  “We a have a special guest today.  The Prince of Darkness himself has decided to join us!  Please welcome Lucifer in the flesh!”

There was a collective gasp as people in the crowd were looking at each other.  Lucifer walked closer to the Bishop.

“My friends,” The Bishop said.  “Please watch as I cast the devil out of our presence!”

“You got my name wrong, and you forgot my title.”

“Oh?  And which one is that?  You have so many.”

“The Light Bearer.”

As he spoke, the lights went down for a moment, and came back on, but it wasn’t the Alamodome lights.  It was blazing hot, as if the sun came down inside the dome.  People were screaming, shielding their eyes. I figured this was my queue.  I decided to do what Lucifer had suggested.  I put my head down, ignored the lights, the people, the screaming, and focused on my strength.  My ability to kill and bring back life, focusing on the seventy thousand people present, reaching in, sensing every one of their inner thoughts, feelings, experiences.  It all hit me like a freight train, knocking me to my knees.  I had to catch my breath as I felt every single one of them.

I worked at keeping my focus as I felt the pressure in my head. The piercing pain, as if my head were about to explode.  About the time I didn’t think I could hold it anymore, everything went silent.  I opened my eyes and looked straight down to the stage.  The Bishop was looking right at me from this distance.  Lucifer was standing a few feet away from him.  As I stood, everyone in the stadium slumped to the ground, seventy thousand people dead in an instant.  The Bishop looked around confused for a few minutes until he heard the first wail.  Someone down front began screaming and wailing.  Then another followed, then a few more, and then everyone was on their feet screaming.  Every one of them stood. There were women, children, even people in the wheelchairs tried to stand, but some had no legs.  I felt bad about the children, but there was no way for me to be more precise than I had. .

They all began to make their way to the stage.  I could see on the JumboTron the Bishop’s face take on a look of fear.  For the first time, he was not in control, and his plans were not going as he had hoped.  As this realization set in, he began to move backward as the crowd surged toward the stage.  He had not planned for this scenario, and so far Lucifer seemed to be right.  Even Christ himself was powerless against man’s free will.  This wasn’t a shower of fire and brimstone he could just stop.  It was the flesh and blood of his own creation, and it was coming for him.

Chapter 43

The mob of bodies surged toward the stage, some of them climbing, stumbling toward the Bishop.  He looked at Lucifer who stood there, staring at him coldly.  I can down the stairs as fast as I could work my way through the bodies.  I didn’t have to push however; they all seemed to move out of the way for me.  I was their master, or shepherd so to speak, I wasn’t sure how I had done it, but I’d managed to kill every person in the building, and bring them back, and now control them without saying a word.  Christ gave life, but so could I, as perverted as it was.  The abomination begat more abominations.

The mob had surrounded him, pushing him to the ground. He’d struggled and even tried to strike some of them dead, but they were already dead, so he was powerless against them.  I climbed onto the stage, walked through the mob and pulled him to his feet.  His suit was ripped and hair disheveled.  He looked as though he’d seen pure, raw evil for the first time and didn’t know what to do with it.

“Charlie,” he whispered.  “Please don’t do this.  You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Yes I do,” I said.

“Have you learned nothing?  You’ve been listening to the serpent.  All he knows is lies and destruction.”

“So far, you’re the only one who has been lying about anything, and you seem to have destruction down pretty well.  But I forgot, the Lord giveth, the Lord taketh away?  Is that right?”

He looked to the ground, frustrated at his own words being used against him.  Something hit me at that point.  This all seemed too easy.  Was I doing the right thing?  Or was I another Judas?

“Charlie, I can save you.  You don’t have to be Judas,” he said, reading my thoughts.

“I came to you on bended knee, and you told me I was an abomination.  It was in my DNA.”

“You’re right, I did say that.  But there is light in you.”

“So you were wrong?”

“No!  I needed you to see this for yourself.  To see what Lucifer was, and who I was so you could make your own choice.  So now is the time.  Which side will you choose?  The light and come with me?  Or the darkness?  Once you choose there is no going back.”

I looked at Lucifer who glared at me, expressionless.  He didn’t seem to care one way or the other.  I couldn’t tell if the Bishop really cared or was just trying to save himself.  What if he was right?  What if by killing the Bishop I damned myself forever? Then again, I was already damned.  If the Bishop was the Christ, he couldn’t lie to me could he?  No, but he could tell a half-truth as he had already done.

“Why don’t you call your father to save you,” I asked.

“It doesn’t work like that.  I’m on my own when I’m here, you know that.  Please Charlie.”

“What happens if you go back having failed your mission?”

“It won’t be pretty, but it’s something I’ll have to deal with.  If you come with me, I can save you.  I will save you Charlie.  You can help me finish my work here.  What’s the difference?   You already killed all these people.  Some of them were my sheep.”

“It’s too late for me.” I said.  “I’m an abomination.”

I placed my hand on his forehead and felt my fingers sinking in, touching the edges of his brain.  Millenniums of knowledge and experience exploded into my brain.  His thoughts, feelings, how long he’d been back on earth, the suffering he went through the first time on earth, how he’d gotten here, his plans.   Even visions of the spirit realm came through, my head seared with hot pain as it all soaked in.  It became clear to me, he wasn’t the monster I thought he was, but he wasn’t the godly being I thought he was either.  He truly thought he was helping mankind.  He was an immortal being who had millions of years of understanding beyond any of our own.

I kept my hand on as long as I could. I felt blood running down my nose as the thoughts poured in.  I wasn’t going to be able to hold it. I finally let go as we both collapsed to the ground.  I lie on my back, trying to catch my breath.  The Bishop lay next to me motionless.  With all my strength on the Bishop, I had released everyone else in the stadium.  Every single one of them collapsed, this time, dead for good.  He wasn’t dead yet though, I hadn’t felt the life go out of him.  Slowly, I pushed myself to my feet.  Lucifer was standing over me, his eyes wide.  I put my hand out for him to help me up.  He backed away.

“Stay away from me,” he said.

“What?  Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“I had no idea it would be like that.  Just stay away.”

I heard movement next to me as the Bishop shifted.  He was looking up at me.

“Charlie, please,” he said.  I punched him square in the nose, knocking him out cold.

“You going to kill him?” Lucifer asked.

“Yes, but I have something special in mind.  I’m going to do it my way.”

Chapter 44

The drive in my Explorer was just over four hours.  I had the Bishop in the back, duct taped and covered with a tarp.  I was headed to a special place I’d found.  Before leaving the city, I’d stopped and rented a cargo trailer and made a few other stops as well.  This would be one of my best kills yet.  I had to make it epic after all, this was no regular sinner I had with me, and he deserved to go out in a special way.

I was on IH-10 headed through southwest Texas.  There was nothing out there except for rocks, hills and road.  When I found the dirt road, I turned onto the road and followed it as it curved between several large hills and rocks as the sun was beginning to rise above the hills.  The road wound up along one of the hills until I reached the spot.  It was a nice ridge, overlooking the canyon, but far enough away not to be seen from the road.  I put the Explorer in park and hopped out.

In the cargo trailer, I had some large wooden posts, and tools to work with.  I pulled out the first post and post hole digger.  I began digging, and was only able to get the hole about three feet deep before I hit solid rock.  I figured that would be good enough as I dropped the post in.  I filled in the dirt around it as well as rocks to keep it firm.  This post was about twenty four inches round, so it would hold just fine.  I set up a hoist I’d purchased as well as a step ladder and rigged it to the large post.

Once I had that done, I brought the other post out, which was only about twelve inches round, I placed it on the ground in front of the main post.  I got the tools out, and then dragged the Bishop out of the Explorer.  I cut the duct tape off of him, and then cut his clothes off him until he was in his underwear.  Apparently Christ wore boxers, white ones.  He could barely stand as I slapped him until he began to awaken.

“What?   Where am I?”

“You’re at the end, Yeshua.”

He looked around, swaying on his feet as if he could barely stand.

“So it’s going to end like this again?”

“I thought it would be fitting.”  I said as I pushed him to the ground along the post.  Grabbing his right hand, I held it along the wooden bar while I drove a metal spike into his wrist with the hammer I’d brought.  Blood sprayed everywhere as he screamed.  He flailed at the nailed hand with his left hand but the nailed hand wasn’t going anywhere.

I then grabbed the left one and nailed it to the bar as well.  More blood and screaming followed.  The rocky ground was soaked with fresh blood.  Once I had him nailed to the cross bar, I hooked the hoist to the cross bar and then climbed the step ladder behind the large post.  I began pulling on the hoist, raising him up off the ground.  He continued to scream and moan as I raised him up.  It took a lot of effort as the whole rig was quite heavy.  Once the cross bar was high enough, I brought it up over the post and lowered it onto the post.  There was a notch cut into the top of the base post, so the crossbar dropped right in perfectly.

He let out a scream as I dropped the post down and disconnected the hoist.  As I climbed down, I couldn’t help notice how pathetic he looked hanging there.  Nowhere near the larger than life, powerful figure I’d seen the night before in the Alamodome.  He didn’t even resemble the confident figure in his mansion who'd killed Stanton with the wave of his hand.  I grabbed the hammer and spikes and nailed each of his feet to the side of the post.  I didn’t cross them over in front like is often seen in pictures and movies with the crucifixion.  According to things I’d read about Roman history, they actually drove the nails through the sides of the feet through the bones.  He screamed louder as I drove the spikes through each foot.  Once done, I stepped back to see him hanging there.  This cross was shaped more like a “T” than the crosses you usually see in churches.  It’s most likely what the Romans used as it was much more practical.

“Charlie, why have you done this?”

“I thought that was obvious.  This seemed a fitting death for you.  I begged you for forgiveness and you turned me away.  So this is what you get.”

“I underestimated you Charlie.”

“Yes you did.”

“It’s still not too late for you,” he gasped.  He had to shift his whole body just to breathe, and I could tell it hurt each time.  After a while, his muscles would give out and he’d asphyxiate.

“I’m afraid it is, Yeshua.  I never had a chance did I?”

“No.  This cannot go unanswered for, you know.”

“I know.  But you are not the holy being I learned about are you.”

“No.  No I’m not.” He grunted.

“How many of you are there?”

“We are the three.  There are others, but not in our realm.” His voice was barely above a whisper.

“What does that mean?”

“It means, it is finished.” He gasped as the life left his body.  As he hung limp from the cross, a dark cloud came over covering the sky.  Thunder cracked as the earth began to shake beneath me.  The shaking earth knocked me off my feet as a swirling cloud began to form around the Bishop.  The cloud enveloped him, spinning faster and faster.  It grew so thick; I couldn’t see him through it.  There was another clap of thunder as a lightning bolt came from the whirlwind lighting up the sky.

The sky began to clear as the whirlwind turned into a mist, it swirled around me, and then up into the sky above the cross.  As it hovered above the cross, the face of a skull formed inside of it, as if it was showing me its face.  I tried scoot backward on the ground, but the cloud dissipated and was gone.  The Bishop’s body still hung from the cross, lifeless.  I already knew what that cloud had been.  It was the Holy Ghost, and it wasn’t happy.

Epilogue

Six months later

I sat in a small break room eating my lunch.  A few months ago, I’d taken a job at a funeral home in Del Rio, TX.  It wasn’t a small town, but wasn’t as big as San Antonio either.  The funeral home was family owned, and my speaking experience helped me in handling pre-arrangements as well as presiding over funeral services.  After all the recent commotion the past few months, it seemed like a good place to lie low for a while.

The mass death at the Alamodome had made national news.  No one could explain it, and fortunately no one caught the events of mine and Lucifer’s on camera.  They found seventy thousand dead people there.  The feds got involved and explained it as some kind of mass suicide led by a deranged cult leader who chickened out himself at the last minute.  There was currently a nationwide manhunt for the Bishop.

They would never find him though.  After I crucified him, I stayed with him for four days out in the wilderness.  I wanted to make sure he didn’t rise again.  There was no need for me to worry though.  Within a day, vultures were pecking at his flesh.  By the end of the next day, he was nothing but bones.  I still remained though to be sure.  After four days had passed, I took down his bones and buried them there on the hill and set the cross on fire.

After all that, I left San Antonio and came to Del Rio.  My bosses were the Salazar family.  They were nice folks, even though they were Catholic.  They didn’t mind my Protestant views and I helped run the funeral home.  I help with preparing bodies when needed as well.  They were impressed at my skills at handling a dead body.  I didn’t tell them where or how I learned it obviously.

I hadn’t heard anything from Lucifer or David Davidson since that night either.  No telling what they were up to.  The one thing I didn’t forget was the Holy Ghost and that horrible face it showed me.  It was going to come for me one day.  There was no telling when that day would be.  It was still hard to believe everything.

I was a supernatural, yet doomed creature. Somehow I had defeated Jesus Christ in his second incarnation as a man, or second coming.  Part of me wondered what happened to him once the Spirit took him.  Did God punish him for failing?  If so, would that be punishing himself?  So many questions that I had no clue about, it made the waiting the worst part.

I didn’t have time to think too much about it.  I walked outside the funeral home to greet my appointment.  A young family was coming in to make arrangements for their grandmother who passed away the night before.  They pulled up in a small Toyota and climbed out.  It was ten in the morning, but the sky was getting dark.  I walked up to the man and shook his hand.

“Hello Mr. Lincoln, good to see you.” I said.

“Thank you Mr. Sims, you too.”  He introduced me to his wife, Jennifer and gave me a rundown of what they were looking for as far as the funeral. He looked up at the sky as the clouds moved overhead.

“We should go inside,” he said.  “I think a storm is coming.”

“Yes.  It definitely is.”

Author's Note

Tim Miller graduated from Bethel College in Mishawaka, IN with a degree in Bible and religious studies.  After serving four years in the U.S. Marines, Tim spent six years working as a corrections officer.  The Hand of God is Tim's first novel in almost ten years.  He currently lives in San Antonio, Texas with his fiance and their children.

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