CHAPTER 21

DIRK

When I took Amy to the railroad bridge, my main motive was looking for a way to kiss her for the first time. I thought it would be maybe one kiss, or a few if I was lucky. I hoped it would break the ice and establish our relationship as romantic in nature over just friends. Yet I knew she was serious about being chaste, and I intended to respect that. On the other hand, being a male in his early twenties, I felt compelled to find out just how serious.

Between losing my parents in a car accident at a young age, and then losing the girl I was close friends with to suicide, I had made a conscious effort to close my heart to love. I was afraid to experience the level of pain and loss the death of a loved one could bring ever again. However, closing off the ability to love and be loved had its own side effects with the prime one being loneliness. Dark, black, bleak depressing loneliness.

Then I saw the light. Ironically the switch was flipped after being beaten half to death. My first glimpse of it came when I saw Amy in the hospital. I could tell that there was something special about her even in my cloudy mental state, but I didn’t think too much of it because she seemed so young. The light became brighter the day Amy brought me muffins. It was hard to ignore her wholesome beauty.

Hindsight is better than foresight. I made myself see Amy simply as a sweet girl. Whitney’s charm and physical beauty were a convenient, deviant escape. I knew I would never love Whitney and she would never love me. But that somehow felt safe in a reckless way. Life is so contradictory.

 Then came the day Amy and I went motorcycle riding. Some say that love is blind. All I know is that after my afternoon with Amy, the light became so bright that I couldn’t see anything but Amy for a while. Then the light became darkened through my lust over Whitney. But Amy’s light penetrated the darkness of my lust for Whitney’s sensuality.

The light of Amy’s love stopped me from the dead end of the pleasures of sin for a season. I decided to open my heart to the risks and rewards of true love. I felt vulnerable, fragile, yet fulfilled. Then the risk of love and loss would prove to be great, especially on the day before Halloween.

 I had just showered after coming home from work. Amy called and said she was working late because they were shorthanded. A couple hours later I received a call from Brock. His normally calm and cool demeanor sounded rattled.

“Dirk, is Amy with you, by chance?” Brock wanted to know.

“No, she had to work late, then she was going to go home and shower. Then she’s planning to have dinner with me,” I explained.

“Here’s the thing,” Brock said, urgently. “Dee just got a call from Amy’s boss saying she got off twenty minutes ago, yet her car is still in the parking lot.”

First my body froze with fear and panic. Then my legs became weak and I sat down hard.

“Do you think it’s Jezebel?” I asked with a shaky voice.

“I do.”

“Has anyone called the cops?”

“They can’t really do anything,” Brock sighed. “Other than keep an eye out for her.”

“What are we gonna do?” I demanded.

“We’re working on it,” Brock replied. “How soon can you get over here?”

“I’ll be out the door in a minute or two.”

My hands trembled so badly I’m surprised that I was able to put on my shoes and socks. I drove to the Knight-Storms’ place more determined than I had ever been in my life. I couldn’t lose Amy, I just couldn’t. We would find her, even if I had to die trying.

“Dirk,” Destiny said with a sob as she embraced me on their front porch. “We got a little bit of good news to go along with the bad. As you know, Nora Medora is an FBI agent who has been working undercover in Jezebel’s cult. Jezebel does in fact have Amy.”

“So she’ll be able to get her back?” I exclaimed.

“It’s not that simple.”

“What do you mean? Amy was kidnapped.”

“Actually, she wasn’t,” Destiny corrected. “She went willingly.”

“Why would she do that?”

“I’m not sure. Hopefully Brock is finding out now.”

I looked past Destiny and saw Brock pacing in the kitchen with a phone to his ear. He stopped walking and put a hand to his forehead. There was the murmur of a voice, causing us to turn and look. An athletic woman with short black hair approached the porch with a phone to her ear.

“Once again, relax, Brock. We got this,” she said into the phone as she opened the porch’s door. “I know this is all just going down for you; but I’ve been on this for a long time now. By the way, I’m here.”

She lowered the phone from her ear and looked at me.

“Well, the local hero,” the dark-haired woman said in a very businesslike manner as she extended a hand toward me. “FBI Special Agent Nora Medora. Nice to meet you.”

“Same here,” I mumbled.

“Mrs. Storm,” Nora said as she turned to Destiny and shook her hand.

“Nora,” Destiny replied coolly. “Glad you’re here.”

Nora nodded. “Let’s go inside and I’ll lay out what I know. Right now, Amy is fine and there is a really good chance she will stay fine.”

“You know that?” Destiny asked eagerly.

I felt excitement surge from my head to my toes.

“Come on. I’ll tell you what happened to Amy and what the plan is,” Nora said before she turned toward me again. “I understand you and Amy have become quite cozy.”

“More than cozy,” I replied. “I love her.”

“Are you ready to play hero again?” Nora asked me.

“I’ll do whatever you or Brock ask of me,” I said without wavering.

“Even if your life is at risk?”

“Absolutely.”

Nora nodded as she slapped me twice on my shoulder and walked into the kitchen to join Brock. Destiny grabbed my arm before I could follow Nora. Her eyes were clouded with tears as she kissed my cheek and hugged me.

AMY

The day before Halloween, I worked almost a double shift. The reason I was doing more than a shift and a half was because one of my fellow waitresses was a no call, no show. Even though she had worked at Mrs. B’s for only two months, it seemed really odd that Heather Smith was absent. Up to that point, she had never missed a day. She was a single mother of two adorable children, a five-year-old girl and a three-year-old boy.

By the time the end was in sight, my feet were sore, my legs were tired, and my patience was wearing thin. All I could think about was a warm shower, fresh clothes, and an evening with the man I was head over heels in love with. It was then that I received a diabolical text message.

The text was from one of Jezebel’s disciples who informed me that they had Heather Smith. First they sent me a picture of her two kids. Then they instructed me to tell no one and to come to the parking lot, where a maroon Chevy Impala was waiting for me. They were watching me. If I followed their instructions, they would let Heather go.

I had no choice. Even if it wasn’t for her two precious children, I couldn’t let Heather be killed because of me. I didn’t hesitate to walk out to the maroon Chevy. My skin crawled with the thought of the type of low life thugs I would be joining. The front passenger door of the four-door sedan opened when I was about ten feet away.

I climbed in and was surprised to find a pleasant-looking woman who appeared to be around forty. She introduced herself as Naomi. She had short hair with blonde highlights, and was a bit plump. She looked like she should be on the way to a PTA meeting rather than kidnapping someone for a human sacrifice.

“Come on in, honey,” the woman ordered. “Give me your phone.”

I did what she told me and we were off. After we entered the on-ramp for the interstate, she threw my phone out the window and into weeds. I jumped at the sight of a man in the back seat. He had a shaved head and a weird facial hair thing going. From the corner of his lips, he had an inch-wide strip of hair that curved an inch or so shy of his ear, tapering to a point. It gave the appearance of a super ghoulish grin. He was creepy to the max and made my skin crawl. He scowled at me and showed me a handgun.

“Oh, where are my manners?” the woman said. “Amy, this is Hector.”

“I have your word that Heather won’t be harmed,” I stated as I wondered if Satanists even worried about things like honor.

“I can assure you that Heather will not be harmed, my precious,” the woman swooned. “She’s one of us.”

“What?” I asked, dumbfounded.

“That’s right. Heather worked at your restaurant solely for this moment.”

I was overwhelmed with dread. When I was under the delusion that I was giving my life for Heather, it gave me strength. Now that my life was intended to be extinguished just for a perverse ritual, I was tempted to fall into despair. But I didn’t. Whether I lived or died, I was safe in Jesus. Also, I was certain that sooner rather than later, Brock and company would be on the case.

The creepy people took me to a large gothic house somewhere out in the country. The goon in the back seat bound my wrists with thick plastic zip ties. Then they took me into the house, where I was promptly greeted by my half-sister, Jezebel.

“Well, if it isn’t my sweet little sister,” Jezebel cooed before she kissed both of my cheeks.

I was tempted to spit in her face. As was typical with my evil sister, she was dressed all in black with knee boots, leggings, and a turtleneck. Her long straight hair was died raven black. She looked like Elvira’s daughter.

“I understand that you have a male companion these days,” Jezebel purred. “Does that mean you’re no longer a virgin? Keep in mind that you are the chosen sacrifice either way.”

I remained silent.

“Ah, not talking,” Jezebel smirked and then paused. “Hector, I’ll need you to examine Miss Autumn’s sacred spot.”

“I’m still a virgin,” I acknowledged before creep-face laid a hand on me.

“Very good, little sister,” Jezebel said with enthusiasm.

“You’re pure evil,” I said sadly.

“Oh, please,” Jezebel said patiently as she tilted her head to the left. “You have such limited understanding, young one.”

For some strange reason, I felt calm. Maybe it was all of the silent prayers I had offered up. Maybe it was the confidence I had that my loved ones would not rest until they figured out what happened to me. Maybe it was the fact that I would not deny Christ and have the honor of dying martyred for Him. Yet I hated that Dirk would have to deal with yet another death of someone he loved. Thankfully, Dirk and I had been a couple only for a short time. I hoped the pain of my loss would be brief.

“Honey, you’re dying for a higher cause,” my half-sister and full demon told me as she patted my cheek.

“You mean lower cause,” I mumbled. “Jesus died for you. I’ll die for Him, regardless of what you think I’m dying for.”

Her laugh was like a growl, and her eyes were inhumane and utterly demonic.

“Don’t you mention Him again,” she snarled, “unless you want to be tortured before you die as an offering for Satan.”

“Jesus loves me, this I know,” I sang.

Jezebel slapped me viciously before I could continue.

“I said do not mention that name again,” she threatened with gritted teeth, “unless you want to be tortured before the knife plunges into your heart.”

“What a friend we have in Jesus,” I belted out even louder than before.

Then Jezebel punched me in the stomach, doubling me over. She packed quite a wallop for a petite woman. All fear left me as I fully realized that these cultists might be able to kill my body, even torture it, but they could not touch my soul!

Jezebel slapped me again and my eyes watered, partly from the sting of the slap, but mostly for love of my Savior. Amazingly, the pain was minimal.

“Jesus loves you,” I said with a smile.

I didn’t say this to taunt, but as a message. I recalled Jesus saying about his murderers, “Father forgive them, for they don’t know what they are doing.” Her eyes held their furry, but she turned and quickly walked away from me.

“Naomi, lock her up,” Jezebel barked.

 The lady kidnapper took me to a bedroom. It was actually quite nice and even had a small bathroom. Two windows were boarded up from the outside. They actually treated me like a pampered guest. They offered me supper and several breakfast options in the morning. It was tempting to accept, but if ever there was a time for prayer and fasting in my life, it was now.

I had no way to tell time. There was no clock, television, or radio in the room. It just had a queen size bed with a nightstand, a dresser, and two chairs. After what must have been more than twenty-four hours, I was retrieved by Naomi and the sinister bald man. What did she call him? Hector? They put a blindfold on me and led me away. We went down several flights of stairs. They removed all of my clothing, but left the blindfold on. I was actually grateful for the blindfold.

They strapped me to some type of wall by my wrists and ankles. The straps were silky and soft. My ankles were pressed together, but my arms were stretched out similar to Jesus on the cross. It felt wrong that Jesus had spikes and I had soft straps. So, despite Jezebel’s threat to torture me, I felt compelled to honor my Savior in this den of devil worship.

“Jesus loves me, this I know,” I sang.

“Gag her!” I heard Jezebel shout.

Before I could get another word out, a hand covered my mouth. I was tempted to bite it, but then I recalled Isaiah 53:7. He is brought as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so He opened not his mouth.

Some type of ball was stuffed into my mouth, and I then heard duct tape rip before I felt it stick to my face. The occultist proceeded with some type of worship service, and I felt strangely calm. I heard Jezebel declare that it was time to offer a perfect sacrifice. Only Jesus is perfect, I tried to say through my gag.

“No!” I heard the heroic love of my life shout. “Stop!”

Then the sounds of chaos erupted all around me as I lay bound, naked, and completely vulnerable.