XlV

Brock sat up on the sofa and scratched his head and gathered his bearings. He was a little disoriented because he wasn’t used to naps and he rarely got headaches.

“How are you feeling Sweetie?” Destiny asked.

“Good,” Brock said with a grin. “My headache is pretty much gone. That aspirin and nap must have done the trick.”

“The water, too,” Destiny added. “I think you were dehydrated.”

“Could be. How long was I out?”

Destiny looked at the clock above the kitchen sink. “About an hour and a half.”

“Oh man,” Brock said as his head swiveled around. “Where’s Seven?”

“In his room.”

“I guess I’ll see if he wants to…

“He and I already had a Bible study,” Destiny interrupted when she perceived what he was going to say.

“How’d that go?”

“I don’t know,” Destiny shrugged. “I think he ended up agreeing with me.”

“That’s great!”

“Well, but then he left pretty abruptly. I think his door slamming might have woke you.”

“So he was mad?”

“I don’t think so. I was trying to continue our study. But then he said no, he had a headache. Said he wanted to go to his room and take something for it.”

Seven’s hands trembled as he twisted the cap off the pint bottle of Seagram’s 7. He took a big slug of whiskey and then chased it with a swallow of 7up. He endured the burn and then sighed with relief as he felt the pleasant warmth in his mid-section. In seconds his quivering fingers steadied. He poured more booze into his 7up bottle. He looked at the pint of whiskey. A third was now gone. He chastised himself for not bringing more. He thought this indefinite trip to Iowa would be a good chance to stop drinking for a while. He wondered, not for the first time, if he was an alcoholic.

He looked out of the window and sighed happily as the alcohol made him feel centered. The view outside was a nice change from concrete, steel, and countless vehicles in a big city. The rolling fields interspersed with farm buildings seemed to go on forever.

Forever. Eternity. Everlasting. Hellfire. Death. The wages of sin is death.

“How did I miss that?” Seven mumbled to himself before he took another swallow of his makeshift cocktail. “All those years, how did I not see what Destiny had so plainly showed and explained? I guess I bought into the theories of the religious majority without even thinking very deeply for myself.”

A black jeep turned into the driveway. Seven watched a young man wearing a Chicago Cubs baseball cap get out. Seven stood up and put his face to the window. Was that Kris Bryant? It sure looked like him. It wasn’t all that ridiculous to wonder since Brock had spent a decade mingling with rich and famous people as their security. Maybe he had become friends with the baseball player.

An old man with a long white beard got out of the passenger side. If he had fifty more pounds on him, he would have made a perfect Santa Claus, Seven thought. Kris Bryant stuck half his body into the vehicle for a few seconds and emerged with a baby.

Santa reached his arm into the Jeep and helped a tall woman with red gold hair climb out. Then the little child reached its arms out to the lovely young lady and Kris Bryant handed the little person to her. Santa grinned and said something to the young couple. The redhead said something back and they all laughed. The foursome exited from view as they moved toward the house.

Ten minutes later there was a knock on Seven’s door and Brock called his name. At first Seven played quiet, wanting to be left alone. Then he thought it best to clear the air about the hellfire Bible study while he had a strong buzz to mellow himself.

“What’s up, dog?” Seven asked as he flung open the door.

Brock stared at him with calm, hooded eyes. His massive arms were folded, relaxed on his torso. “How are you feeling?”

“Just fine, my friend,” he replied with an elaborate wave and bow.

Brock frowned and then eyed the mostly empty pint of whisky on his nightstand. “Destiny said you had a headache.”

“Not anymore. How’s your headache?” Seven grinned and then waved a hand at the bottle he noticed Brock’s eyes fixate on. “Want a little elixir?”

“No, thanks,” Brock replied. “I don’t drink. Beside, it looks like you don’t have much to spare.”

“So, do you want to rub it in that Destiny put me in my place during our study?”

“Of course not, we…”

“So to what do I owe the displeasure of your intrusion then?” Seven interrupted.

“There’s some…”

“The Bible’s a bunch of bunk anyway,” Seven interjected again. “You can make it say anything you want. I’m just out of practice studying it and it’s going to stay that way. That’s why Dee seemingly got the upper hand on me. A book written two thousand plus years ago and millions of idiots think they are supposed to live their lives by it. When…

“Seven!” Brock blurted.

Seven stopped rambling and trained his glossy, crazy eyes on Brock’s eyes.

“If we are gonna spend a lot of time together in the foreseeable future,” Brock told him calmly. “You’re gonna have to find a shut off mechanism for your mouth.”

Seven scowled, abruptly crossed his arms and sighed. “Why am I even here? I don’t care if I die. Death threats? Life itself is one big death threat. I’m even a death threat unto myself.”

Seven began to laugh maniacally. He pointed a finger at his temple in mock of a gun and then added a loud sound effect. “Bam!”

Downstairs, four adults and baby Ella looked toward the direction Seven’s vocals had erupted from.

“I better go see what’s going on,” Destiny said with a hesitant smile.

Half a minute later Destiny was knocking on Seven’s door.

“Come in,” Brock said.

Destiny cautiously entered the bedroom and her eyebrows shot up. Seven and her husband sat side by side on the bed. Brock’s arm was around Seven’s shoulders as his head hung and he sobbed. When Seven glanced up and looked at Destiny, he quickly composed himself.

“What was that loud noise?” Destiny asked.

“Seven pretended to shoot himself with his finger,” Brock replied matter of fact.

Seven’s face reddened. Whether due to embarrassment or anger, Destiny couldn’t tell.

“What’s that smell?” Destiny asked as she crinkled her nose.

“Seven, did you pass gas?” Brock asked as if talking to a child.

“No,” Destiny giggled and then sniffed the air. “It smells like booze in here.”

“It’s Seven’s headache medicine,” Brock said, pointing at the bottle of Seagram’s 7.

“Oh my,” Destiny said. “I better tell them Seven won’t be up to meeting them today.”

“Them who?” Seven asked as he rose from the bed and staggered a little. “I’d be glad to meet some fans.”

“They’re not exactly fans, Seven,” Destiny told him as she grasped an arm and tried to get him to sit back down.

“No, let him meet them,” Brock intercepted as he pushed on Seven’s lower back and toward the door. “Let the pastor see the man he thinks is destined to be a messenger for the last days.”

“Huh, last what?” Seven murmured with a puzzled frown

“Brock, let’s just wait until maybe tomorrow,” Destiny said, pulling Seven in the opposite direction Brock was pushing. “Then maybe he won’t, um, have a headache.”

“Listen, guys,” Seven Sallie said as he shrugged away from the couple. “I’m not as think as you drunk I am.”

Destiny’s mouth dropped open while Brock and Seven laughed.

“Seven used to say that all the time back during the high school party days,” Brock said and then frowned. “It also seemed to go hand in hand with me getting your mouth out of trouble and into a physical altercation.”

“Surely you exaggerate,” Seven Sallie slurred.

“Come, let’s go meet some people,” Brock said as he took Seven by the crook of his arm and led him toward the door.”

“Brock, no, some other time,” Destiny said as she pulled back on Seven’s other arm.

“I want the pastor to see the real Seven Sallie,” he said as he gave Seven’s arm a yank.

Seven stumbled and something popped out of Seven’s silky maroon shirt.

“What are those?” Brock asked as he looked at three different necklaces and then flipped them with a finger.

“Just some charms,” Seven replied as he tried unsuccessfully to stuff them back into his shirt. He undid a button, but now they were only partially hidden. “Or bling if you prefer.”

Brock undid another button on Seven’s shirt and pulled them back out. “What are they for?”

“Just you never mind,” Seven Sallie said as he slapped at Brock’s hand.

“Do you have a rabbits foot in there, too?” Brock asked with a chuckle and then took hold of Seven’s arm again. “Come on.”

“Seven,” Destiny called as Brock began to lead his cousin into the hallway. “Why don’t you put your hair into a ponytail. It’s rather askew.”

“It’ll be fine, Dee,” Brock declared as he continued to lead Seven to the staircase. “It’s all about truth, right?”

“Well, who do we have here?” Seven Sallie asked as he sauntered down the stairs behind Brock. Destiny followed behind Seven and chewed nervously on her lower lip. Seven’s long dark brown hair and necklaces sashayed back and forth in front of his partially exposed chest. Pastor Kirk Samson stared at Seven with a stunned expression.

“Pastor Samson,” Brock said sternly. “Meet Seven Sallie.”

“How do Santa Claus?” Seven Sallie slurred as the two men shook hands. Captain Kirk studied Seven for several seconds with a blank expression. The pastor marveled that many people referred to him as Santa or skinny Santa. He even avoided wearing red. Why not Moses? Then he looked at Brock who was scowling at his cousin.

“He looks like Jack Sparrow,” Amy giggled.

“He looks like Dad,” Dirk said.

“Yes, he does,” Amy frowned. “But I never thought of Daddy as looking like Johnny Depp.”

“Maybe because Dad’s built like The Rock.”

“What the…” Seven Sallie said with a look of surprise. “Why is this lovely young couple calling Brock dad and daddy?”

Destiny introduced Seven to Amy and Dirk Easton. Then she gave him a brief rundown on their history together. How Dirk had helped rescue Amy from a gang rape. Then how Amy was saved yet again from being a human sacrifice by a diabolical cult. She explained that a detailed version of the couple’s story was in the last half of the e-book ‘Knight Storm’ by Johnathan Embers.

Meanwhile, Brock stood next to the pastor and put his mouth a couple of inches from his ear. “What do think of your so called messenger of God? Are you sure your angelic encounter was truly from God?”

“What do you mean?” Captain Kirk asked, even though he had entertained the same niggling doubt.

“I mean Satan himself will transform into an angel of light (2 Corinthians 11:14),” Brock said. “So how do we know this angel Melanchthon is the real deal?”

“We try the spirits, to see if they are from God (1 John 4:1). I was told Seven was a hard case. It’s your mission to soften him up. One step at a time, son.”

Brock looked at his cousin. He was doing some type of side to side hippity hop dance as he flapped his arms. Amy and Dirk were laughing and Destiny had her head bowed as she pinched the bridge of her nose. He could tell she was hiding her own laughter. He slapped  his palm onto his forehead. “God help me, pastor.”

“He will, my son, He will.”