Tag: romance

BLACK SABBATH – CHAPTER 13

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

BLACK SABBATH

CHAPTER 13

LOIUS LEWIS

FEAR GOD AND GIVE GLORY TO HIM, FOR THE HOUR OF HIS JUDGEMENT HAS COME; AND WORSHIP HIM WHO MADE HEAVEN AND EARTH, THE SEA AND SPRINGS OF WATER (Revelation 14:7)

            “Lou, right now they’re single file,” Brock’s low voice said directly into my ear via an ear bud. “I still don’t know what kind of weapons they have. One of them is wearing black cargo pants and a black shirt. The other is wearing blue jeans and a green shirt. You take the guy in black; I’ll get the other. I’m moving in on them so I’m gonna be silent now.”

            Inga and I were in a make shift tent, a good half mile from the closest road. I could tell she was scared, but she had a determined look on her face. A crack from one of the tarps that worked as a shelter put a band of late afternoon sunlight across the top half of her face. It made me think of it as a mask of righteousness across the courageous young lady’s face. I was prepared to take a bullet for her if necessary.

            A few days ago, when I was still a police lieutenant, there was no way I would be part of a mission using a twenty something year old woman as bait to catch bad guys. No private citizen for that matter. Now I was a private citizen myself, and I guess playing a private detective. I ended up going along with a plan to entice some of those possibly involved with the murder of Inga’s sister into a trap.

            I also did another ‘no, no.’ I pulled a twenty-two pistol from a coat pocket and whispered, “Glow Eyes, have you ever shot a gun?”

            Her arctic blue eyes looked startled. But she still wore a stoic expression as she shook her head. I gave her an extra quick lesson, then sat the pistol not far from her. “Don’t touch this unless the bad guys somehow get the edge. But be of good courage, WE have the edge. They’re walking into a trap WE set. There’s three of us and two of them. And one of our three is Brock Storm.”

            She took hold of my hand that wasn’t pulling a Glock 17 from my other inside pocket. I looked at our joined hands and then at her. “We also have a decorated police veteran.”

            I forced a smile and refrained from saying former, but she did it for me. “Before you got fired.”

            I had discovered that Inga usually followed a compliment with a slight. Yet I’m not sure she did it on purpose. She was one of those people like Seven Sallie that had a hard time stopping their mouth from speaking what came to their mind.

            I could almost feel the approach of the bad guys, even though it was quiet. That is except for the noise of the woods. That being the chirping of birds and the chatter of squirrels. Then a twig snapped. Suddenly there was a rush of footsteps, and I aimed the Glock at the makeshift entrance. There was a brief scuffling sound, then Brock’s voice. “Lou, it’s me. You two can come out.”

            Inga and I exited the tent, and I scratched my head. The guy with the blue jeans and green shirt laid unconscious. The guy in all black had a bloody nose as Brock put handcuffs on him. As he did so, the suspect talked about wanting a lawyer.

            He continued. “I know my rights, all we have is knives and they are perfectly legal. That old pervert appeared to have kidnapped the young lady, and we thought he was gonna rape her.”

            Destiny and Zella came down the dear trail, with Destiny carrying a black tool bag.

            “You seem to be mistaken,” Brock said. “I’m not the police. I don’t care one bit about your rights. Just as you care nothing about the lives of Inga and Paloma Likas, and Priscilla Rosenwinkle. I only care about justice.”

            A propane torch in Brock’s right hand popped to life from a lighter in his left hand.

            “What are you doing?” the man in black asked nervously.

            “Executing justice for the murdered young ladies.”

            “We didn’t do it, I swear!”

            “Maybe not, but you know who did.”

            “No I don’t!”

            Brock flashed the flame across the man in black’s bare arm, and he howled at the dipping sun.

            “That was only a second, think what a minute, maybe two will be like,” Brock warned.

            To use an old fashioned gangster movie term, the man in black sang like a canary. No sooner had he finished, when FBI Agent Nora Medora came down the trail along with Benito Bonanno. They were accompanied with a few other Federal agents. At least I assumed they were since I was out of the loop.

            Inga sat on a nearby boulder, crossed her arms, hugging herself and watched a discussion ensue between Brock and Nora Medora. Zella went to her, and Inga sprang up like a jack in the box and hugged my cousin fiercely. Destiny joined them and rubbed Inga’s back. When Inga separated from Zella, she took Destiny’s hand and squeezed.

            I wasn’t good with emotional stuff. Maybe that’s yet another reason I ended up with marital problems. The Sunday law issue that came up between my wife and me was probably only the straw that broke the camel’s back. But I owed Inga, what? Respect? Gratitude?

            I approached the trio of women, and they all turned their gaze on me. Discomfort made my skin crawl, but I pressed on, duty bound. I made a fist, gently placed it on Inga’s upper arm and gave a little shove. “You did good, kid.”

            Those striking arctic blue eyes were watery as she looked into mine. She opened her arms and the next thing I knew I was in an embrace with the little twirp. It was like hugging a bag of bones. Although it was loose and awkward, it also felt surprisingly good and comforting. It seemed to allow everything I’d been holding back to flash before my mind. My marriage, my job, this little mission, what the future held.

             Then I heard whimpering and was horrified to realize that it was me. I braced myself for a smart-alecky remark. But she surprised me by kissing my cheek and saying, “Lou I know you’re going through a lot. Don’t feel embarrassed for having feelings. Remember, Jesus Himself wept.” (John 11:35)

            I gave a little shrug and nodded. Then she reverted back to the Inga I was more familiar with. She shoved me with both hands and said, “So who do you think you are?”

            “Who do I think I am? A man who is blessed to have friends like you during a time like this.”

            She chewed her lip, and her eyes watered some more. Her face scrunched up and she threw herself in my arms again, but this time our hug was tight. “You’re becoming like the grandfather I never had.”

            I felt myself frown. “You know, I’m actually three months younger than Zella.”

            “Oh, well, you just look a lot older, more gray, less peppy.”

            I turned our embrace into a bear hug, and she emitted a high pitched squeak. “Lou!”

            I released her and we both laughed. Then she looked at me with sympathy. “I don’t recall you ever laughing before.”

            The way I felt was either laugh or cry, right? But I didn’t tell her that.

            It felt really strange to be part of something like a police operation, yet not in the loop. It also felt strange being part of an operation where I questioned the ethics. The thing that bothered me was the threat of torture. What also troubled me was that the potential torturer had the reputation as a devout Christian.

            After the proverbial dust settled, Brock approached me. “Thanks for your help, Lou. You did great.”

            “Listen, Storm, can I ask you a question?”

            “Of course.”

            “Let me say first, you’re amazing at what you do. But…”

            “You had a problem with the torch incident,” he interrupted with a rueful smile.

            “I did. It’s not something I would have done as a police officer.”

            “You weren’t allowed to.”

            “True enough, but there’s plenty of bad cops that skirt rules and ethics.”

            “But you were a good cop.”

            “I tried to be.”

            “No, you were a good cop. Otherwise you wouldn’t have joined our side on the Sunday law issue. You care about doing what is right.”

            I shrugged, then gave him my own rueful smile. “Are you avoiding the question?”

            “You never asked one.”

            I frowned. He was right, he had interjected my discomfort with the torch. “Fair enough. How do you balance being a Bible believing Christian and torture?”

            “I didn’t torture anyone,” he said as he reached for the propane torch and lit it. He ran it across his arm just like the suspect. Only Brock winced rather than howled. “For the record, I was not gonna do any more than what I just did to myself.”

            “But you asked him how that torch would feel on his skin for a full minute or more?”

            “I never said I was gonna do it. I’m pretty sure he thought I was though. You may not agree with my tactics, Lou. But I suppose between my appearance and demeanor, I have only needed to give bad guys an implied threat. Keep in mind though, since becoming a Christian, I don’t do this chasing bad guys for a living anymore. Only when an acquaintance is in some type of trouble.”

            “Before becoming a Christian, did you follow through on threats?” I inquired.

            “You don’t want to know.”

            “Sure I do, or I wouldn’t have asked,” I replied, and then grinned. “But I think you actually answered my question by your avoidance.”

            “You are a good detective,” he replied with a smirk.

            The next few weeks for me were a blur. But not just because of my personal life. Every day the chaos in the headlines intensified with wars and rumors of wars, calamities, hunger and homelessness. Yet at the same time, false revivals across America were increasing in staggering numbers. Miracles and supernatural encounters abounded.

            A so called prophet that many believed was Jesus was adamant that the Bible Sabbath was changed to Sunday. My wife was one of the many that were buying in to it. Until then it seemed my wife and I might have been making headway in repairing our marriage.

            Then when I explained that Jesus’s second coming would be visible to all, and that there would be false Christ’s and false prophets, she didn’t like it. All of our endeavors at marital healing started to go sideways. Then the call for mandatory worship on Sunday became a reality. One would no longer be able to buy or sell unless they proved, mostly via their phones, that they had checked into a religious service. They could even do this through zoom if they were housebound.

            I vehemently refused to comply, and my marriage went from sideways to backwards. Karen filed for divorce and wanted me out of the house for good. She was very concerned that my refusal to comply with the Sunday laws would make her guilty by association.

            I never felt so alone that first day as I gathered some things and moved out. But things looked up rather quickly. My cousin Zella and I had fully repaired the breach that separated us for years. I joined her little band of believers, and they all, even her husband Seven, welcomed me with open arms.

            The Storm’s graciously invited me into their large home after my wife kicked me out of ours. They were living self-sufficiently. They had an abundant garden of which we all chipped in to help keep up with maintenance and harvest. There was also a network of fellow believer’s living the same way with all of us working together to defy the mark of the beast and its national Sunday law.

            God had a remnant people! During the loud cry, everyone was given a choice. Either embrace the commandments of God and the seventh day Sabbath of the Creator, or the commandments of men and Sunday, made popular by human tradition. Although most of humanity followed the beast and adhered to Sunday observance, many came out of spiritual Babylon and embraced the Bible Sabbath.

            The out pouring of the Holy Spirit was being experienced in abundance. Despite my many trials in the recent past, I had never experienced such peace and contentment as I did with my new life. There was a deep satisfaction that came from giving my all to God. Be still and know that I am God (Psalm 46:10) became something I had experienced to the fullest. But it wasn’t without its challenges.

            Seven Sallie spoke before congress. Brock and I accompanied him. It was dangerous. In some parts of the world, Sabbath keepers were being put in prison and even to death. Sabbath keepers were being blamed for the calamities and strife throughout the planet. And what happened in that government building that day did not make things better.

            Despite Seven Sallie fluently and eloquently explaining Bible truth, the majority of our political leaders would have none of it. Suddenly people began to get rashes. Then the rashes turned into blistering sores. A rancid smell filled the room. Murmurs turned into shrieks. I was beyond confused. Compared to my spiritual brethren, I was still somewhat of a child in Biblical matters.

            “What is going on?” I mumbled to Brock, dazed by what I was witnessing. Yet he, Seven, and I were unaffected by the sores.

            In a solemn voice he replied, “It seems to be the first of the seven last plagues.” (Revelation 16:1, 2)

BLACK SABBATH – CHAPTER 12

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

BLACK SABBATH

CHAPTER 12

LOUIS LEWIS

GOD HAS DEALT TO EACH ONE A MEASURE OF FAITH (Romans 12:3)

            “You’ve heard the saying you clean up well?” Inga Likas, AKA Inga Cognito asked me.

            “Yes, I have,” I replied grudgingly. Years on the police force had given me keen detecting skills and I knew what was coming next.

            “Well, YOU dirty down well,” Inga told me gleefully.

            Inga had insisted she wanted to be bait in an attempt to capture her sister’s killer. With her old friend from the alien cult having been found strangled to death more than a thousand miles away, I argued the endeavor was futile.

            However, we received some information from a mole inside the cult. Two more of Bryson Bronx’s henchmen had been deployed to the Midwest. The mole was good. He somehow tracked the flight plan for Bronx’s private jet. Low and behold, it landed at the Eastern Iowa airport just long enough to drop off a couple passengers, refuel, and return to California.

            We all agreed someone needed to stay close to the courageous pistol of a young lady. The best prospect, Brock Storm, was too physically fit and imposing to pass as a vagabond, so he was out. Brent, Inga’s brother was out because he would likely be recognized, having lived on the compound for several years. Benito Bonnao was called away by his company. Seven was out because he was a public figure. Plus, forgive me Seven, Inga was more likely to protect him.

            He would later tell me God’s strength is made perfect in weakness. Therefore he will most gladly boast in his infirmities (2 Corinthians 12:9). In Seven’s defense, he wasn’t a wimp. Well, not necessarily a wimp. It was hard to tell when he hangs around the likes of his cousin Brock Storm, who clearly looks like he could have been a former NFL linebacker.

            So it seemed I was the best option to work with Inga. Especially since I was currently unemployed. I had stopped shaving and dug out an old coat from my Army days. I found some boots that should have been thrown out, and a pair of jeans that used to be too tight. Thanks to stress and anxiety due to personal upheaval, I easily got them buttoned.

            “Have you lost some weight, Double Lou?” Inga asked.

            For all of the six years I was a police lieutenant, I was known by many as Triple Lou. I neither liked nor disliked that moniker. But now that I was only Double Lou, I didn’t like it one bit.

            “Yes I have, thank you very much,” I replied, liking what seemed to be a compliment. Leave it to Inga to take it the other way in a matter of seconds.

            “That’s good, cause you look like you’ve aged ten years in the last few weeks,” she added happily.

            “You’re so kind, my Dear,” I replied with a bit of sarcasm in my tone.

            Her arctic blue eyes were wide, but not innocent. “I was just trying to be honest.”

            “Okay, young one, let’s get something straight. You know the ins and outs of the homeless community. But I know public safety and police work. So although you will be the guide through the, ah, um, homeless circuit, if I demand you jump, you ask how high.”

            These instructions came back to bite me a few hours later. There were five of us in radio communication. Zella and Destiny were keeping surveillance in a vehicle. Brock was, well, somewhere. That man is good! He was keeping tabs on us, but I had no clue where he was. And I was a trained professional. His chameleon abilities, despite his size, made me wonder why he couldn’t be hanging out with little Miss Smart Mouth instead of me.

            But I did gain a whole new respect for Inga. Not only for her resilience in persevering through the life she had led, but her faith despite many trying circumstances. My time with her proved a blessing given my own trying circumstances. But we did have hiccups, like this story that I will continue to share.

            We had received some pertinent information from Brock’s reconnaissance. He was certain that he had spotted Inga’s stalkers. So we needed to get her out of the public eye and into deeper seclusion to see if they would tail her. All the while keeping her safe. I had an idea.

            “Listen, Glow Eyes,” I said. “Let’s make it look like I’m dealing drugs. Let’s make it look like I’m supplying you in exchange for sex.”

            “Yuck!”

            “I said make it LOOK like we are going off for a rendezvous.”

            “No way!”

            “Remember, when I say jump, you ask how high.”

            “I think I’ll take a dive instead.”

            The others were able to listen in on our conversation, so Brock gave his two cents worth.

            “Lou has a good plan, Inga. What’s your problem? You two will just make it look like you’re going somewhere private for, um, intimacy? Obviously you’re not gonna do anything.”

            “I have my dignity.”

            “What do you care what a couple of scum bags think?” Brock wanted to know.

            “It’s not them I’m concerned about. I have some friends in the community. What if they see?”

            “I may not be Denzel Washington, but…”

            “More like Fat Albert,” she said, cutting me off.

            “Are you actually Seven Sallie’s daughter?”

            “No, but I’ll take that as a compliment.”

            “Compliment? As much grief as you two give each other?”

            “It’s friendly fire,” she shrugged. “I love the Sallie’s, they’re good people.”

            “Well, calling me Fat Albert doesn’t seem like friendly fire.”

            “True enough,” she admitted and then briefly chewed her lip. “I’m sorry. I guess you need to know who you’re teasing. Now that I know that you’re rather sensitive, I’ll be careful.”

            I opened my mouth to protest but was interrupted by our group radio communication.

            “Inga, do you have a better plan than Lou’s?” Brock asked. “Do you want to catch those responsible for your sister’s death, as well as Pricilla’s?”

            “These aren’t the guys that did it.”

            “Maybe not,” I said. “But when they become prime suspects, odds are they will turn on the actual culprits, as well as Bronx himself.”

            “Okay, I’ll do it,” she said stoically. Then with a smirk curling her lips, she asked, “So what do we do, Cupcake?”

            “Cupcake?” I frowned. “Fat Albert to Cupcake?”

            She shrugged. “Isn’t that friendly enough fire? Plus, you want it to look legit, right? I guess I’m hot or cold. If I’m in, I’m in.”

            “Alright then, Sweety Pie, we’ll…”

            “Okay, let’s stop with the nicknames,” she said with a wince like she bit into something sour.

            In public view, Inga and I stayed close by at first, but separate. When we both got word that she was being watched by the possible bad guys, we met at our rendezvous point. It was a large oak tree by some railroad tracks. We made it look like I gave her a sample of something. She made it look like she wanted more. I rubbed knuckles gently on her cheek. She subtly recoiled and shook her head. I shrugged and began to slowly amble away. Another prop I had was a cane.

            Inga crossed her arms in disgust and watched me go. A minute later she pursued me, walking at a normal pace. When she caught up to me, I stopped, we talked briefly, and then I proceeded to amble on with her slowly marching by my side. I looked around, pulled a flask from my jacket and handed it to her. She looked around, took a drink of herbal tea, and then winced as though the supposed alcohol had a bite.

            Earlier I had made a makeshift tent in a secluded area out of tarps and that was the destination we headed to. Once inside, we waited. I felt restless, fidgety. It had been years since I had been undercover. Yet feisty little Inga seemed calm as she pulled out a pocket size New Testament. I watched her lips move silently as she read.

            I sighed before speaking softly. “Lord, now would be a good time for the rapture.”

            Inga’s eyes darted from her little Bible to me. “Rapture? Don’t tell me you believe in a secret rapture?”

            Although I had many years of attending church under my belt, I was a spiritual child. During my entire adult life, my spiritual growth had come from an hour in church once a week. Sometimes only once a month when I was over worked. So I lamely replied to the girl young enough to be my daughter, “Of course, most Evangelical Christians believe in the rapture.”

            I should have heard from my own mouth my mistake. “You mean just like most Christians think the Biblical Sabbath was legitimately changed to Sunday? Rapture isn’t even found in the Bible. It’s a theory based of a few vague texts like one shall be taken and the other left. (Matthew 24:40) The theory didn’t even exist until around the 1830’s and was popularized back then primarily by the British preacher John Nelson Darby.”

            “Seems like a pretty good theory to me. What else could one taken and the other left mean but the rapture?”

            “If you read a couple verses down, Jesus explains that his second advent will simply be unexpected. Nobody knows the day or hour. But diligent students of the Bible know when it is close. Read 1 Thessalonians 4:16-18 which tells of Christ’s second coming. It’s with a shout and the voice of an arch angel. That doesn’t sound secret. Revelation 1:7 says every eye will see Him, even those who killed Him.. In Acts 1:11, angels declared as Jesus ascended into heaven that He would return in like manner.”

            I thought Inga and I had come to the Sabbath truth at roughly the same time. Why did she seem much more advanced in her knowledge? Although she told me these things in a serious manner, putting away her sharp tongue, my spiritual pride was wounded. And spiritual coupled with pride isn’t a good thing. Was it a case of not being able to teach an old dog new tricks?

            No, that should never be the case. If we’re humble and teachable, we can learn new truths at any stage of life. Inga simply had a deeper spiritual hunger than me at that time. But then she did something that had me question her spiritual maturity. She did something that crossed the line of appropriate. It happened right after Brock gave us an update.

            “They followed at a distance and are watching your makeshift tent,” his voice told us through the radio waves. “But I think they are suspicious of a trap. It looks like they are getting ready to retreat.”

            Inga had an intense look in her eyes as she chewed nervously on her lower lip. She barked an order. “Turn around, Lou.”

            This puzzled me, but I did as instructed. But then curiosity killed the cop. I turned back around as she began to take her top off. She stopped lifting her shirt at her rib cage. She demanded, “I said turn around.”

            I obeyed but as I did I put forth my own demand. “What on earth are you doing?”

            “This little mission will only take a couple minutes but face the west until I tell you I’m finished.”

            “Are you undressing?”

            “Yes. We are trying to make them think we are doing something untoward, but apparently they are not convinced.”

            “Well, I’m not getting undressed and going out in broad daylight!”

            “Oh yuck! Why would you think I wanted you to join me?”

            “You know, you’re not doing any favors to my self-esteem. And you shouldn’t be going out there without any clothes on, somebody might see you.”

            “That’s the point, we need to make them genuinely think we are… You know.”

            “Inga, we are on public property!”

            “Yeah, a good half mile from anything. It took you a half hour to walk out here.”

            “I needed to make them think I’m physically challenged.”

            “You mean you’re not?”

            “You know you…”

            “Be quiet and hand me that flask of tea.”

            I pulled it out of my jacket, turned and handed it to her.

            “Dang it, Lou! I told you to hand it, not turn around.”

            “Sorry, it was, a, a, reflex.”

            “How embarrassing! You pervert! You wanted to look!”

            “I didn’t do it on purpose and I’m no pervert. If you don’t care about those creeps as well as Brock seeing you in your birthday suit, what’s the big deal with me?”

            “You’re like three feet away, all they will be able to tell is that I’m naked from a distance.”

            I heard, not watched Inga take a whole mouthful of water and exit the tent. Then she made a vomit sound and then wretched for minute. Suddenly the tarp flew open, and she quickly came back in. “Lou! What part of stay turned around did you not understand?”

            “I’m sorry, cops are curious. Maybe you should have explained the plan instead of just winging it.”

            “Former cop.”

            “Oh, so I suddenly lost years of police behavior, is that what you think?”

            “I guess as a professional order giver, you don’t have the ability to take them. How embarrassing! How am I supposed to face you going forward?”

            “Listen, I’ve seen hundreds, thousands of crime scene photos.”

            “Oh wow, thanks. You didn’t do my ego any favors comparing me to a crime scene.”

            “I’m just saying I’ve seen it all.”

            “You got that right, you were staring right at me.”

            I groaned. “I meant that my seconds long glimpse. Unintentional, mind you, is very small potatoes compared to everything I’ve seen as a police officer.”

            “Well, that was interesting,” Brock’s voice came through my ear bud. “Definitely took me by surprise.”

            “Tell me about it.”

            “Tell you about what?” Inga asked irritably. Her ear buds weren’t back in yet. I heard her clothes rustling as she put them back on. I most definitely didn’t turn to look as I spoke. “It’s Brock. Your antics took him by surprise too.”

            “I wouldn’t have recommended that, but Inga’s ploy did work,” Brock said. “They’re on the move and coming at you. I can’t see what kind of weapons they have. Be ready, Lou, there are two of them and I’m right behind them.”

BLACK SABBATH – CHAPTER 11

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

BLACK SABBATH

CHAPTER 11

ZELLA LaSTELLA SALLIE

BEHOLD, I SEND YOU OUT AS SHEEP IN THE MIDST OF WOLVES. THEREFORE BE WISE AS SERPENTS AND HARMLESS AS DOVES (Matthew 10:16)

            My whole body tensed when I opened the front door and saw my cousin standing on the stoop. Lieutenant Louis Lewis gazed at me with hound dog eyes, his hands jammed into his pockets. I froze because it had only been a day since my husband had been arrested for inciting civil disobedience on his podcast.

            But then as I took in the woebegone countenance of my one time childhood playmate, I recalled Seven telling me that Triple Lou had been not only fired but arrested himself for reiterating my husband’s call to obey God rather than men.

            “Lieutenant,” I greeted.

            “Former Lieutenant,” he corrected. Then he forced a smile. “You can call me Louie if you like.”

            I couldn’t help giggling. He hated being called Louie when we were kids. He often barked, “I’m Louis, with an s, not an e.”

            “How about Louis with an s,” I said with a warm smile.

            The curl at his lips didn’t seem forced this time. “Suit yourself, but I’m fine with Louie. I’m not a sensitive kid anymore that couldn’t wait to be a grown up. Now I’m a grown up that wishes he was a kid again.”

            “Seven told me what happened, I’m sorry.”

            He shrugged. “That might not be the worst of it. Karen and I got into a big argument today. It’s not good. Not good at all.”

            “Over what you told that TV reporter yesterday?”

            “Well, that was the straw that broke the camel’s back, so to speak. Actually, maybe I should say the boulder that broke the camel’s back. She has always been more churchy than me. When I studied out this Sabbath issue, I discussed my findings with her, and she didn’t like how I did an about face on the Sunday law situation. Her being quite religious, she was proud of the fact that I was in charge of Sunday ordinance enforcement in this area.”

            I felt like I should invite him in, but there were a couple areas of concern. For one thing this wasn’t my home. We were guests of Destiny and Brock Storm, who graciously took us in after our house was destroyed by fire. Destiny and I had been preparing dinner when the doorbell rang. With her hands covered in flour, she had asked me to answer the door.

            Another reason was the discussion at the kitchen table and its five occupants. Seven, Brock, Inga, Inga’s brother Brent, and Benito Bonanno were discussing a plan to capture Paloma’s killer. This plan entailed using Inga as bait; an agenda the former Lieutenant adamantly opposed.

            I looked over my shoulder and gave a start. Destiny was standing right behind me. She giggled. “Sorry, sweety, I didn’t mean to sneak up and have my ugly mug frighten you.”

            I laughed, but Louis Lewis spoke. “If you have an ugly mug, I’m an outright monster.”

            “He’s right, you’re anything but ugly,” I told her.

            Destiny was like a Barbie doll come to life. Only she dressed like a country girl in her usual attire of flannel shirt and jeans.

            “Ah shucks,” Destiny replied. Then she quickly dismissed the issue by asking, “Won’t you come in, Lieutenant?”

            “Former Lieutenant,” Louis Lewis corrected as he stepped through the threshold.

            “Oh, yes, sorry,” Destiny winced.

            “Hey Cous, you didn’t correct me when I said I looked like a monster,” Lou said as he walked into the Storm residence, eyeing me ruefully.

            I grinned and my heart soared. Not just at his lightheartedness, but because he called me cous after years of estrangement with my family. I reassured him, “You’re not a monster.”

            “Just ugly,” he said.

            “No, you’re not ugly either.”

            “Now, don’t be bearing false witness,” he said with a little smirk. But his eyes were contradictorily sad. “We come from some of the same gene pool, right?”

            “Of course, primarily Grandma Birdy and Grandpa Ike.”

            He nodded and asked, “So if you get to look like Halle Berry, why didn’t I get to look like Jamie Foxx?”

            I felt embarrassed at his offhand compliment and didn’t know what to say. Thankfully Inga sauntered up and put her left arm over my shoulders and her right around Destiny’s. “How do you think I feel hanging out with these two lovelies? I look like something the cat dragged in.”

            “Now, young lady,” Triple Lou said. “You’ve got a pair of the most striking eyes I’ve ever seen.”

            “Only because they’re so light blue they sometimes seem white. But my nose is pointy like a witch. My lips are thin, teeth are crooked, and my body looks like a scarecrow.”

            “You would look interesting with green skin,” Seven said as he joined us in the foyer. Then he bellowed after Inga kicked him in the shin. “Ouch!”

            “Opps, sorry,” Inga said with a mischievous smile. “I forgot I was wearing cowboy boots that Destiny gave me. They have kind of a hard point, don’t they?”

            “I can definitely verify that,” he groaned.

            “If you think Inga would look interesting green, I have to say, you look interesting with a red face dear,” I told my husband.

            “With comments like that, you won’t get any loving from me,” Seven declared.

            “Is that supposed to be a threat?” I replied with a smoldering grin and an arched eyebrow.

            Seven’s eyes widened as he seemed to realize how ridiculous his warning challenge was. “No, of course not, dear. I miss spoke. You can have as much of me any time I want.”

            “It should be you can have as much of me any time YOU want,” I mistakenly corrected, as I realized he said that on purpose.

            “Oh, okay!” Seven said happily as everyone laughed. “Thank you, Dear.”

            “So Lieutenant,” Destiny said cheerfully. “What can we do for you?”

            Lou looked uncomfortable and embarrassed. “Um, it’s former Lieutenant.”

            “Yeah, Seven told us that you were, um…”

            “Prison mates,” Seven broke in.

            “I was gonna say let go,” Destiny said, giving Seven a playful shove.

            “Fired would be more accurate, “Lou clarified.

            We all looked at him, and he gave each one of us an uneasy glance. Then he turned toward the door and said, “I better go.”

            I grabbed his hand and called him something I hadn’t since we were barely teenagers. “Louie, how come you stopped by if it isn’t police business?”

            Although he faced us again, his uneasy expression intensified. Destiny sought to put him at ease. “Mr. Lewis, you’re very welcome here. I guess we just didn’t know whether it was police business or pleasure.”

            “Um, well,” Lou shifted his feet and then rocked on his heels. “Everything is happening so fast. I mean several weeks ago I was in charge of Sunday ordinances. One of my tasks was to monitor Seven’s podcast. To be honest, I thought of him as an enemy. But I felt a need to be fair, so I studied out the issue and discovered I was on the wrong side of the issue. Now my position cost me my job and likely my marriage.”

            “So you and your wife disagree on the Sabbath issue?” Destiny asked.

            “We do,” he nodded. “But we’ve had some history with marital problems. We’ve separated a couple times during our twenty two years. It’s not easy being married to a cop, let alone a cop in charge of other cops. Ironically, when I was put in charge of the Sunday thing, it pleased her. It brought us together like we hadn’t been together since newlywed days. But when I turned to the other side, it, it… How do I put this?”

            Inga broke in. “Is it sort of like if you were put in charge of vice and then started seeing a hooker?”

            Lou gazed at her for a few seconds with hooded eyes, then acknowledged, “That’s kind of a creepy analogy, but I suppose it does make the point.”

            “So if you’re not here because of the investigations…,” I said. Then I asked warm and inviting, “Are you here for fellowship then?”

            With hands deep in his pockets, he shrugged a shoulder, and then nodded. “I guess so. Or maybe I’m looking for confirmation that I did the right thing.”

            As often as my husband liked to clown around, he did have a serious side. He usually seemed to know how to balance the two and now was one of those times. He read from the book of Matthew, chapter 10, verses 36-39:

            “A man’s enemies will be those of his own household. He who loves father or mother more than Me is not worthy of Me. And he who loves son or daughter more is not worthy of Me. And he who does not take his cross and follow Me is not worthy of Me. He who finds his life will lose it, and he who loses his life for My sake will find it.”

            “That’s easy for you to say,” Lou said solemnly. “You and Zellie came together seeking the truth.”

            “Not exactly,” I interjected. “Seven and I started seeing each other before we became converts. Seven went first, you might say, and I thought it was going to cause our brief relationship to end. But then I went to a prophecy seminar held by his then teenage daughter, Sevenia. It was during these that I experienced a transformation in my life and became converted.”

            “Fair enough,” Lou shrugged. “Guess I’m comparing apples to oranges. Everyone has their own trials.”

            A ding from the doorbell revealed FBI Agent Nora Medora. Destiny invited her in, and I noticed her eyes widen when she discovered Lou not only present but staring her down.

            “Oh, Lieutenant, hello,” she greeted my cousin.

            “Former Lieutenant,” he replied coolly.

            “I see,” she replied, then regained her composure, folded her arms and eyed him coolly. “I suppose you blame me.”

            “Well, you got the ball rolling,” he said and then sighed. “But no, I don’t blame you. I don’t like you, but I don’t blame you.”

            She snorted. “Tell me what you really think.”

            “I did,” he barked. “You do your job thoroughly, and by the book. But you’re also cold, and don’t care who you step on in the name of duty.”

            “I’m not gonna argue,” she said with a casual shrug. “You’re entitled to your opinion. But I don’t feel I step on people while fulfilling my duties. I had no desire or intention of you getting fired. I simply thought your superiors should understand your mind set and thereby get you back on track.”

            “Who’s to say I’m not on the right track?”

            “Look, I didn’t come here to argue. And I truly didn’t intend for you to get fired.”

            Lou put up his hands in a sign of truce. “And I truly don’t blame you for my firing. If I would have toed the line, I wouldn’t have lost my job. But I had to follow my convictions.”

            “Nora, why are you here?” Destiny inquired. “I don’t mean to sound unhospitable, but, you know, with all that’s been going on lately. Plus I doubt you came by hoping to find a Bible study to join.”

            “Right,” Agent Medora said, and then eyed Inga with true sympathy. I felt my toes curl with the look of compassion on the world hardened agent’s face. “I was just made aware that Pricilla Rosenwinkle was found dead in her apartment only a few hours after she arrived back in Las Vegas.”

            Inga gasped, but then cautiously asked, “From what, a drug overdose?”     

            Agent Medora drew in deep breath as she shook her head. “She was strangled.”

BLACK SABBATH – CHAPTER 7

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

BLACK SABBATH

CHAPTER 7

SEVEN SALLIE

TRUST IN THE LORD WITH ALL YOUR HEART AND LEAN NOT ON YOUR OWN UNDERSTANDING (Proverbs 3:5)

            We had just found out that Inga’s brother was at the police station. After Triple Lou informed us that Inga’s brother was in town, she practically sprinted toward my car.

            “Why don’t you all ride with me?” Lieutenant Louis Lewis offered.

            This caused Inga to do an about face and she boogied to the lieutenant’s car instead.

            “But how will we get home?” I asked.

            “I’ll bring you back,” he shrugged. “If you ride with me, it will give us a chance to talk and for me to ask more questions.”

            The three of us, Inga, Zella, and myself began to get into the back seat of the Lieutenant’s unmarked police car. Triple Lou shook his head impatiently. “You all don’t need to get in the backseat; you’re not under arrest. Inga, why don’t you sit up front?”

            Inga had a look on her face like a child being punished, but she slowly removed her foot from the back seat of the car and went to the front. The main thing we learned from listening in on Triple Lou’s interrogation was that the other lady she came to Iowa with also had been a resident of the alien cult’s compound. This would prove to be a key factor with Inga’s sister turning up in the Midwest from the west coast.

            Inga’s reunion with her brother was odd. Both had a look of fascination on their faces when they saw each other. Yet when they hugged, there was more formality in the embrace rather than warmth. They also didn’t look like brother and sister. Did the three siblings all have different fathers?

            Brent’s black hair was slicked back. His close set, dark eyes looked hard. He was wearing a black shirt with a grey tie, black slacks, and shiny black cowboy boots. His appearance made me think of a mafia hit man. His deep voice was California cool. “Well little sis, you just kind of fell off the map. I was starting to think I’d never see you again.”

            “What about you? You joined the Marines and closed the door on us.”

            “No I didn’t. Pal wrote to me, but you didn’t.”

            Inga shrugged. “I guess I was mad at you for leaving us. I suppose you know she’s… Gone, our Pal, Pal?”

            I noticed his jaw clench and he stoically said, “Yeah.”

            “Pal, Pal,” she croaked. Then Brent pulled her into another embrace. This time there was more warmth, and he kissed the top of her head as she cried into his left pectoral. He looked rather fit when his biceps pressed against the fabric of his shirt as he held his sister in his arms.

            “How did you know to come here?” Inga asked after she pushed away from him. “From wherever it is you’re living?”

            “I’ve been in Miami for the last year or so,” he replied. “When my hitch was up in the Corps, I started working for a high end security firm.”

            I broke in and asked if the name of his firm was such and such.

            “Yeah,” he replied with raised eyebrows. “How did you know?”

            “I took a guess,” I said with a shrug. “My cousin Brock worked for a high end security company with an office in Miami. That would have been before your time though. But I got to know one of his coworkers who is still there. Do you know a Benito Bonanno?”

            He smirked. “I certainly I do; he’s my supervisor.”

            “Good guy,” I added.

            “Benny’s the best. I was ready to rejoin the Marines after a few months. I was working for a real (Expletive) in LA and was gonna quit. Benny happened to be out there at the time on an assignment and took a liking to me. He talked me into staying with the firm and moving to Miami and for working for him. Man, I never thought I would run into somebody here who knows Benito Bonanno. Small world.”

            “Speaking of small worlds,” Inga cut in. “How did you end up out here when Paloma was only discovered hours ago?”

            “Pal called me two days ago and said you were in trouble.”

            “What made her think I was in trouble?”

            “Did you come out here with Jane Joplin?”

            “I did.”

            “Well apparently she went to Bryson Bronx and told him where you were. I imagine she got a handsome reward.”

            “That traitor,” Inga said quietly. “So how did Pal find out?”

            “Do you remember a girl by the name of Priscilla Rosenwinkle?”

            “Of course I do,” Inga smiled. “Silly Priscilly. She was a little redhaired pistol. She always reminded me of Pippi Longstocking.”

            “Well she’s all grown up and living in Las Vegas, and it turns out she and Paloma got together occasionally.  Her sister, who still lives on the compound, got wind of Jane’s agenda. She heard that Bronx was sending two of his guys to Iowa. She also heard that she gave him your phone number and had it tapped. That’s why she came out here in person without giving you a heads up.”

            “So she died trying to save me,” Inga said quietly, staring at the floor in contemplation.

            “Yeah, I suppose so,” he said gently. “But don’t you dare think this was your fault.”

            “Pal and me, we had a falling out, you know,” Inga said quietly, wiping a leaked tear with a finger.

            “No I didn’t know.”

            “You know what she was doing in Vegas, right?”

            “Working at a casino,” Brent replied with a little shrug.

            “Hardly,” Inga snorted. “She took up the trade that is only legal in Nevada.”

            Brent gazed at his sister in disbelief. “No way.”

            “Yes way,” Inga responded. “That’s why I came out here with Jane. She said she knew someone, said we’d get jobs. Neither happened. She couldn’t find her supposed friend, and we got no jobs. We ended up in a homeless camp, and not long after that, she bailed on me. Eventually I ended up getting busted for shop lifting at a grocery store. That’s how I met Mr. and Mrs. Sallie here.”

            Inga waved an open hand at Zella and me.

            “So you’re what, a lawyer?” Brent asked. “I assumed you were a cop.”

            I opened my mouth to explain, but Inga spoke first. “He’s a windbag.”

            I closed my mouth, pursed my lips in exasperation, and looked at Inga with hooded eyes. My wife put her mouth to my ear. “Honey, you look like Daffy Duck when he’s exasperated with Bugs Bunny.”

            I relaxed my expression. Inga stepped to me and put an arm around my lower back. Looking at her brother, she said, “I didn’t mean that. There’s just something about Seven that makes me want to tease him all the time. Truth is, he and Zella took me in. They’re saintly people.”

            Inga sniffed and wiped a tear with the hand that wasn’t clutching my waist. What range of emotions the poor girl was enduring. I put my arm around her and gave her an affectionate hug.

            “Hey, wait, you’re Seven Sallie,” Brent replied with a frown.

            “Yes sir, I am he,” I acknowledged with mock nobility.

            He nodded. “Okay, I see what Inga meant by windbag.”

            I felt the Daffy Duck expression return to my face. Brent must have noticed and immediately corrected himself. “No, no! I didn’t mean it that way. Just that her joke, windbag, you talk for a living. On your podcast. I’m sure you’ve heard of Josiah Brimstone?”

            “Of course,” I replied. “He’s one my biggest detractors.”

            Brent nodded. Josiah Brimstone had been known as one of the foremost, so called, prosperity gospel preachers. But over the last year or so, he became a champion for Sunday laws, evangelizing their importance. He had also, very publicly, criticized me and my podcast. So I publicly offered to open the scriptures with him on his own program. On that point he was yet to respond, and I guessed he probably wouldn’t.

            “Well, until I took this emergency leave, he was the latest client I have been assigned to,” Brent explained. “Another colleague and myself have been traveling the country with him the last month on his speaking tour.”

            I lifted my hands in surrender. “For my part, I don’t hold that against you.”

            “Hey, just to be clear, there’s nothing to hold against. I am not an admirer or follower of his at all. As a matter of fact, my association with him has only made me more ensconced in atheism.”

            “I’m an atheist too,” I told him.

            He looked at me like I had two heads. Then he snorted and shook his head. “Figures, another religious phony.”

            “I’m no phony, I believe everything I espouse on my podcast.”

            “Then how on earth can you be an atheist?”

            “How about you tell me about the God you don’t believe in?”

            For the next minute or two it sounded like he was reading from a Josiah Brimstone script. But he quoted disparagingly, especially the concept of an eternally burning hell. With a look on his face like he bit into a lemon, he said, “What kind of God would burn people for eternity just because they choose not to believe in him?”

            “See, I told you I was an atheist. I don’t believe in that God either.”

            I went on to explain that a thorough study of the scriptures concerning hellfire and the state of the dead proved that hell, so to speak, was an event at the end of time, and not a place of eternal torment. (You can obtain free study guides on these subjects from Amazing Facts. Simply ask for study guide #11 ‘Is the Devil in Charge of Hell?’ and/or #10 ‘Are the Dead Really Dead?’)

            The timing might have been odd for an impromptu Bible study. But we were soon to be distracted from it. Two uniformed officers entered with a bedraggled looking man in handcuffs. He was shaking violently, whether from some type of drug withdrawal or fear I didn’t know. But when one of the officers spoke, it sent a chill up my spine.

            “Lou, we found Paloma Likas’s cell phone and purse in a grocery cart full of this man’s belongings.”

BLACK SABBATH – CHAPTER 6

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

BLACK SABBATH

CHAPTER 6

LIEUTENANT LOUIS LEWIS

HE REVEALS DEEP AND SECRET THINGS; HE KNOWS WHAT IS IN THE DARKNESS, AND LIGHT DWELLS WITH HIM (Daniel 2:22)

            “Is that shrug a yes or no?” I had asked Inga Likas, also known as Inga Cognito. The question was whether or not she had supernatural powers. Just to be clear, I did not believe that she had supernatural powers. But I was looking for was whether she thought she did.

            “Maybe,” she replied with another shrug.

            “How do you maybe have supernatural powers? Either you do or you don’t. Let me rephrase that. Either you think that you do, or you don’t. Yes or no?”

            “Yes, we all can have supernatural powers. And I mean you as well, Lieutenant.”

            “What are you talking about?”

            “I mean if you have faith as a mustard seed, you can move mountains,” she declared. (Matthew 17:20) “Do you not believe that?”

            “I’m not here to discuss my faith. I’m…”

            “Or lack thereof,” Inga interrupted.

            “Now listen here,” I began to defend. Then I paused, regained my composure, and calmly said, “We need to stay on the task at hand. And that task is for me to investigate the death of your sister.”

            “You’re the one that asked if I had supernatural powers.”

            I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Why did my detectives have to be overworked, compelling the Captain to assign me personally to this homicide case? He had a twofold reason for doing so. For one thing, he put a lesser value on the murder of a seemingly homeless person. For another thing, I could tell he was not pleased when I requested to withdraw from overseeing the ever increasing Sunday laws.

            “Ms. Likas, tell me about this former fiancée. Why do you think he was behind it and not someone, say, from the homeless community?”

            “Because of what you said was carved into her flesh,” she replied. Then she paused as she choked on a sob. “Nobody here knows I sometimes went by Inga Cognito other than members of your police department, and my friends, Zella and Seven Sallie. Do you think one of your officers may have done it?”

            “Absolutely not!”

            “Well, I say the Sallie’s absolutely did not do it either.”

            “Okay, tell me about this former fiancée.”

            “Before I do, let me make this statement. In my thinking, I wasn’t his fiancée. I was being forced into a marriage that wasn’t legitimate, since he had multiple wives and I was only sixteen years old.”

            “Can you tell me who he is and where he is?”

            “His name is Bryson Bronx, and the last I knew he lived on a compound in the California desert. He’s very wealthy, I’m sure he’s a billionaire. He’s also the leader of a wacko alien cult. There were more than two hundred of us living on the compound. My sister, Paloma, who you found… Who…”

            Inga put a fist over her mouth and began to cry. My cousin Zella put an arm around her. I gave her space to grieve.

            “So tell me, Inga,” I began gently after she calmed. “If this Bryson Bronx is a very wealthy man way out in California, how do you think he tracked you here to a homeless camp in Iowa?”

            “Oh, I don’t believe he did it himself. But I do believe it was one of his hench men, bodyguards, thugs, whatever you want to call them.”

            “What can you tell me about these hench men?”

            “He had seven of them. He was obsessed with seven.”

            “I assume you mean the number and not this gentleman sitting at the table with us?”

            A smirk played at Inga’s lips. “Did you mean Seven Sallie?”

            “I did.”

            “Okay. The gentleman part confused me.”

            “Hey, that’s hurtful even if it might be true,” Seven replied with self-deprecation.

            Inga burst out with a laugh. Then it instantly morphed into sobs. She croaked, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be joking at a time like this. The truth is, Seven’s the most wonderful man I have ever met. If it hadn’t been for him and Zella taking me in, I most likely would have been killed with my sister.”

            I took in the scene for a moment. My cousin Zella with her arm protectively around Inga on one side, and Seven giving her hand an affectionate squeeze on the other. I had judged Seven and his zeal over the Sabbath vs. Sunday issue as Pharisaical. I felt he was knit picking, and disrupting community unity by rebelling against the Sunday laws. But their taking in this homeless girl was living out Christianity at its core.

            I had seen Inga Likas, also known as Inga Cognito, two or three weeks earlier at the station. Let me tell you, she was rough, dirty, and weathered. But now after only a couple of weeks with the Sallie’s she looked clean and healthy. This despite red rimmed eyes caused by grief.

            Getting back on task, I inquired, “Please tell me what you meant by Bryson and the number seven.”

            “He felt seven was the Biblical number of perfection,” Inga replied with a shrug.

            “I can’t argue with that,” I added.

            “Really?” Seven asked with an arched eyebrow.

            I didn’t know if he was inferring about the seventh day Sabbath or himself. But I knew I had walked into it, so I walked right back out of it by moving forward. “You were to be his seventh wife. Is there anything else regarding Bryson and seven?”

            She shrugged. “He had his seven hench men, seven house keepers and butlers, seven cars, stuff like that. But here’s the thing about his seven wives. When I was to become his seventh wife, it was more like his, I don’t know, eleventh or twelfth at least.”

            “What does that mean?”

            “It means when he finds an interesting prospect for another wife, his least favorite of the seven mysteriously disappears,” she explained, using air quotes while saying ‘disappears.’

            “So you’re saying he has them killed?”

            “All I know is they disappeared. Having them killed would be my guess. Or maybe he really is in communication with aliens.”

            “So let me get this straight. He’s into Biblical things, but has people murdered? His so called wives no less?”

            “I didn’t say he was a Christian, but he is interested in aspects of the Bible. But more  like secret Bible codes rather than, say, the Gospels.”

            “I see. So did you witness any of these disappearances?”

            “From the standpoint of hearsay. You know, like, oh Brenda’s gone. Then a month or two later, there was a new wife for Bryson from among our ranks. Then around a year later, oh Jenny’s gone. Then a month or two after, there’s was a new wife for Bryson. And Jenny was the vacancy that was supposed to pave the way for me.”

            “How long did you live on this compound?”

            “I was twelve when we moved there, so about four years. My mom got intrigued by the cult, divorced my dad and married one of Bryson’s seven hench men. Most of the followers on the compound lived in dorm type quarters. But because my stepdad had rank, we lived in a pretty decent apartment.”

            “Is your mom still there?”

            “I’m not sure. When Paloma and I ran away, Bryson was not happy at all. I wouldn’t be surprised if she disappeared,” she said, again using air quotes for ‘disappeared.’

            “Have you been in contact with your mother since you left the compound?”

            “Nope.”

            “So you were sixteen when you left the compound?”

            “I was days away from turning sixteen and Pal was eighteen.”

            “What about your father?”

            “I haven’t seen him since I was twelve.”

            “He didn’t have joint custody or anything?”

            “He couldn’t. He had a couple domestic violence charges against him. Besides, he always doubted whether he was actually our father. And with good reason. One of his domestic violence charges came after he caught our mom in bed with a friend of his.”

            “Is he a possibility in the death of your sister?”

            “I don’t know, I suppose. But it’s been so long since I’d seen him, it didn’t really occur to me. It was Bryson’s men who tried to hunt us down after we left. Like I said my dad wanted nothing to do with Paloma and me. The only one of us three he liked was Brent.”

            “Who’s Brent?”

            “Our brother. He’s two years older than Paloma, and four years older than me.”

            “Do you know his whereabouts?”

            “He joined the Marines as soon as he turned eighteen. I haven’t seen him since and only talked to him twice.”

            “Were you and your brother ever close?”

            She shrugged a shoulder. “Yeah, for growing up in a dysfunctional environment, we got along quite well. My dad liked me the least. Brent protected me from our dad’s wrath. You see, the friend he caught in bed with my mother had unusually light blue eyes like me.”

            Inga’s eyes were indeed striking. So arctic blue, they sometimes seemed to glow.

            “My eyes are the reason Bryson chose me to be his wife,” she continued. “Even though Paloma is prettier than me. He felt like because of my eyes I was some type of gateway to other worlds. He thought I could make, how do I put this? Contact.”

            “You mean contacting aliens.”

            “Yeah, something like that.”

            “How old is Bryson?”

            “By now he would be in his mid-fifties.”

            Paloma’s face was beaten beyond recognition. When Inga said her sister was prettier, I thought it would be good to see how much the siblings resembled each other. “Do you have any pictures of Paloma?”

            Inga pulled out her phone and pulled up some pictures of Paloma. The two women definitely looked like siblings. Inga was also being humble in declaring her sister prettier. Although Paloma had a more curvy, voluptuous body, Inga’s arctic blue eyes made her face more striking, compared to Paloma’s darker blue-gray eyes. Would the killer have noticed the difference?

            As I held Inga’s phone in my left hand, I pulled my own ringing phone out of my pocket with my right. It was my desk sergeant.

            “Hey Jeff, what’s up?”

            “Hey Lou. There’s a man here who says his name is Brent Likas. Says he’s the brother of the murdered woman from the homeless camp.”

BLACK SABBATH – CHAPTER 4

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

BLACK SABBATH

CHAPTER 4

SEVEN SALLIE

WHEREAS YOU DO NOT KNOW WHAT WILL HAPPEN TOMORROW. FOR WHAT IS YOUR LIFE? IT IS EVEN A VAPOR THAT APPEARS FOR A LITTLE TIME AND THEN VANISHES AWAY (James 4:14)

            A knock at my front door revealed Lieutenant Louis Lewis standing on my stoop. It had been a couple weeks since he and FBI Agent Nora Medora had stopped by to threaten me. Oh, they called it a warning, but I clearly saw restrained hostility in their demeanors.

            “Good afternoon, Lieutenant,” I greeted, I hoped cheerfully. I could feel my blood pressure spike a bit. There is no fear in love, I reminded myself (1 John 4:18). Followed by love your enemies (Matthew 5:44).

            “Afternoon,” he responded, eyeing me cooly.

            No fear in love, love your enemies, my mind repeated. “I’d like to say to what do I owe the pleasure, but I can’t help wondering what I said on podcast that made you show up. I’ve tried to be, shall I say, cautious, since you and Nora were kind enough to warn me.”

            What I didn’t acknowledge to the police officer was that I was choosing my battles wisely. And hopefully it was not as a wise guy, which was my sinful tendency. I needed to seek the Holy Spirit’s guidance with timing in what to say and do. I needed to follow the example of Jesus when He said things like, ‘Tell no one,’ and ‘My time is not yet.’

            “This has nothing to do with your podcast, Sallie,” Triple Lou said. “I need to ask you a few questions about Inga Likas. Also known as Inga Cognito.”

            “Did she get into some trouble?”

            “Yeah, I’d say she did.” He sighed and ran a hand over his face. Then his tired looking dark brown eyes met mine. “I’m afraid she’s been murdered.”

            “What!”

            “I’m sorry. There was no easy way to break it to you.”

            “That can’t be!”

            “I’m afraid it is. Her body was found down by the river in a patch of woods off of first street. Now I know she had been staying with you, so there are a couple things I need to know.”

            “You don’t understand, she…”

            “Once again,” he interrupted. “I’m sorry to break it to you like this, but…”

            “Lieutenant,” I interrupted. “You…”

            “Maybe we should sit,” he interrupted. “How about at the kitchen table?”

            “Yeah, that would be fine,” I said and then sighed. “Can I get you something to drink? Relaxed Mind tea? Sparkling water?”

            “No thanks. Now, Mr. Sallie, when was the last time you saw her?”

            “Please, call me Seven.”

            “Now, Mr. Sallie, when was the last time you saw her?”

            “About fifteen minutes ago.”

            “Fifteen minutes ago? That’s not possible.”

            Inga walked up to the table, pulled out a chair, and sat down. “Do you have any leads on who killed me?”

            Triple Lou stared at Inga in astonishment. It was as if he had lived two thousand years ago and witnessed Jesus raise Lazarus from the dead.

            “It.. It’s you,” Lieutenant Louis Lewis stammered.

            “It’s me,” Inga said with a shrug. She was amazingly calm for having just found out that she had been murdered. Yet I noticed her fingers were trembling slightly. Then her lower lip developed a bit of a quiver as she asked, “So what makes you think I’ve been murdered?”

            “I swear, I thought for sure it was you,” Triple Lou said mildly, still looking at Inga in disbelief. “I’m sorry if I upset you.”

            Now I noticed Inga’s eyes were becoming watery, so I spoke up. “Lieutenant, can you tell us why you thought Inga had been murdered?”

            “I saw her for myself,” he replied, as he turned his gaze onto me.

            “What did you see?” I asked.

            He looked back to Inga. “I don’t know if you want to hear this.”

            “Give it to me straight, Triple Lou,” Inga said flatly.

            Now I am obnoxious by nature. But by the grace of God, I no longer purposely try to get a rise out of people since giving my life to Christ. The old me would have smiled at Inga’s disrespectful tone. But the new creature inside my flesh cringed at the use of the flippant name she used for the gruff police officer. Yet it seemed to roll off his shoulders as if she had called him sir, officer, or lieutenant.

            “Well, for one thing, it looked like your hair,” he told us. “But I see you got it cut.”

            Inga’s dread locks were gone, and her dark brown hair was cut into a pixie style.

            Being rather dense I said, “Didn’t you recognize the face?”

            “It was beaten beyond recognition.”

            “What else?” Inga asked stoically.

            “Carved in her flesh, on her torse to be exact, were the words, ‘Inga Cognito is a fake.’ Also on her person was a Nevada ID that called her Inga Marie Likas… So I hope you can see why I was confident that the… Why I thought it was you.”

            “Did she have any tattoos?” Inga asked hesitantly.

            “Why yes, she did. On the back side of her wrist. A banner that said love conquers all, surrounded by flowers and…”

            “1 Corinthians 13:4-8 under the flowers,” Inga interrupted.

            “Yes,” Triple Lou said solemnly and then paused. “Who is she, Inga?”

            But instead of replying, Inga’s chin began to quiver, and tears seemed to pop out of her eye socks. She coughed out a sob, covered her mouth with her hand and ran to the bedroom.

            “Must be a relative of hers,” the Lieutenant said quietly.

            I shook off the shock I felt and said, “I better go comfort her… Or something.”

            I got up slowly from the table. Although my heart broke for Inga, I selfishly longed for my wife. I mumbled, “Zella, you should have been home a half hour ago, where are you?”

            Low and behold the front door popped open and my beautiful wife stepped into our home. I stepped quickly to her, and we embraced. Having noticed the Lieutenant’s car in the driveway, she whispered into my ear, “Are you in trouble again?”

            I explained the reason for Triple Lou’s presence. My wife is mentally tough because she is spiritually grounded in the love of Christ. She pushed away from me and briskly walked toward Inga. I slowly walked back to the table, sat, and then sighed as I eased into a chair.

            Triple Lou and I sat in silence for a couple minutes. Then I said, “Maybe you could come back later, or we could come down to the station later.”

            “I really need to talk to her as soon as possible. If we don’t catch the perpetrator within the first forty eight hours, the odds of ever finding him drop dramatically.”

            “So you think it’s a him?”

            “In most cases of a brutal murder it’s a him,” he told me sternly. “But to be fair how about I change it to ‘them.’”

            “Them? So you think it’s more than one person?”

            “Sallie, why do you always have to be so difficult?”

            “I don’t mean to be, Sir. I just like to explore every detail of a subject.”

            “Ya know, even when you’re being respectful, I somehow feel that you’re mocking.”

            “I’m sorry you feel that way. On the other hand, we live in a dog eat dog world. Your paranoia could be looked at as just being cautious.”

            “I’m not paranoid,” he said testily. Then he forced a smile and said with eerie calmness, “I’m not paranoid.”

            He glanced at the door that concealed Inga and my wife. Then his eyes shifted to me. Then he looked back at the door. Then he looked back at me. Then he muttered to himself, “Oh nuts.”

            “So Lieutenant, do you have time to investigate a murder while at the same time enforcing Sunday laws?”

            His eyes narrowed with distaste, and I put up my hands in a surrender gesture. “I’m sorry how that came across. When I’m under stress, it gets hard to control my natural bent for flippancy.”

            “Be careful Sallie, you do realize you’re a suspect?”

            “What! Surly you don’t think I killed… Whoever it is that was killed?”

            He sighed. “At this point everybody is a suspect. But no, I don’t think you did it.”

            “Well, good.”

            “Yet,” he added cooly.

            After a minute of awkward silence, Triple Lou said without looking at me, “I am off of overseeing Sunday ordinances though.”

            “Yeah? How come?”

            “Conflict of interest.”

            “May I ask what the conflict of interest is?”

            “You may,” he replied but then remained silent.

            “Well?”

            “I just said you could ask, I didn’t say I would answer.”

            Despite the violent death of somebody seemingly related to Inga somehow, I laughed. “It sure can be hard to like somebody that’s flippant.”

            “Tell me about it,” he said.

            “Well, I wanted to understand your conflict of interest, and I found it annoying when you responded with flippancy instead.”

            He still eyed me with narrow eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “’Tell me about it’ was a figure of speech, not a request. You’re something else, Sallie.”

            “That’s what my wife always tells me.”

            “I bet she does,” he said, sighed and rose from the table. He began to slowly do laps around the kitchen table. “I’ve been studying out this Sabbath issue with my Bible and concordance. Now I was believer that we kept Sunday in honor of the resurrection. But then I discovered in the book of Acts, in particular chapters thirteen and seventeen, that they kept the Sabbath. Jesus had been long risen from the dead by then.

            “Then I looked up Constantine and how he mandated on March 7, AD 321, dies solis meaning ‘The Day of the Sun’ in latin, making Sunday the official day of rest.”

            “Lieutenant, that’s awesome!”

            “Yeah, well, truth is truth. I also got to thinking about the first scripture I read on the Sabbath. Genesis 2:3 says God sanctified it. I couldn’t find anywhere in scripture where God sanctified or made holy, the first day of the week.”

            “That’s because He didn’t.”

            “Right,” he replied as if he didn’t want to admit it. But then he acknowledged, “So, I told the Captain I didn’t want to oversee the Sunday laws anymore.”

            “How’d that go over?”

            “Okay, but now he regards me with suspicion.”

            “Ya mean he didn’t before?”

            “Sallie, do you always have to…” He grinned, shook his head and said, “No, he didn’t.”

            The bedroom door opened, and Inga and Zella came out walking hand in hand. Inga’s arctic blue eyes were red rimmed as she said in a childlike voice, “I’m ready to talk, Lieutenant. I don’t know how much help I’ll be, but I want you to find who did this.”

            “Okay,” Triple Lou said with surprising gentleness. “Let’s start with this. Do you know who she is?”

            “Her name is Paloma, she’s my sister.”

BLACK SABBATH – CHAPTER 1

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

BLACK SABBATH

CHAPTER 1

SEVEN SALLIE

NOW THE LORD IS THE SPIRIT; AND WHERE THE SPIRIT OF THE LORD IS, THERE IS LIBERTY (2 Corinthians 3:17)

            As I exited the courtroom, a young lady that had been ahead of me for shoplifting stepped up next to me. She said, “I’m surprised they let you go.”

            She appeared to be in her thirties. I’m not good at guessing ages, but my wife is. Her shoulder length dark brown hair was dread locked and grungy looking. Her jeans were dirty, her black converse sneakers had seen better days, and her faded flannel shirt was frayed at the cuffs. My first impression was homeless, and I wasn’t wrong.

            “Why do say that?” I asked cheerily with an arched eyebrow.

            “Triple Lou brought you in himself,” she said as if this delighted her.

            “Triple Lou?” I inquired, arching my eyebrow a little higher.

            “You know, Lieutenant Louis Lewis,” she said, separating lieutenant and making it sound like two separate words. Lou tenant. “So what did you do? The plaintiff wouldn’t let me stay in the courtroom to hear you go before the judge.”

            “The official charge was inciting civil disobedience.”

            “Wow!” she exclaimed, her eyes widening. They were the brightest blue I had ever seen in a pair of peepers. I even wondered if she wore colored contacts. “What kind?”

            “On my podcast I encouraged people to keep the Biblical Sabbath. The Sunday ordinance will lead to mandatory worship and that would be unconstitutional.”

            “That’s pretty lame,” she said dejectedly.

            “Yeah, thankfully the judge thought it was a pretty lame charge as well.”

            “No, what I meant by lame, was when you said civil disobedience, I assumed you organized a riot or something.”

            “Sorry to disappoint you.”

            She eyed me thoughtfully, putting a finger on her chin. Then her eyes widened again. “Hey, didn’t you used to be Seven Sallie?”

            “Actually I still am.”

            “No you’re not.”

            “What do you mean ‘no I’m not?’”

            “I mean you used to be crazy popular. Somewhere between Rush Limbaugh and Bill Maher. Then you just suddenly fell off the map. What’d you do, have a sex scandal or something? Or are you some kind of pervert?”

            I liked this girl; she was spunky. However, my hands did feel the slight urge to go around her neck. “My name is still Seven Sallie, regardless of a drop in popularity. What’s your name?”

            “Inga,” she replied.

            “Inga what?”

            “Cognito.”

            I smiled. “Your name is Inga Cognito?”

            “Your name is really Seven?”

            “It’s my actual middle name,” I told her, pulling out my driver’s license and handing it to her. Her eyebrows arched in surprise. I suppose because I trusted her enough to hand over my personal ID.

            “Sebastion is your first name?” she asked with a look on her face as if she bit into something sour.

            “It is.”

            “No wonder you go by Seven. Why is your middle name Seven?”

            “I was the seventh of seven kids. My twin brother’s middle name is Six.”

            “So are your other sibling’s middle names one, two, three, four, and five?”

            “No,” I replied. “So what is your real name?”

            She handed me back my license and pulled a book bag off her shoulders. She dug into it and pulled out an ID. It wasn’t a driver’s license; just an official state issued ID from California. If it wasn’t a fake, she was only twenty four. What kind of life had she lived that she looked like she could be in her thirties? My hands no longer wanted to go around her skinny neck. I felt more inclined hug to her.

            “Inga Marie Likus,” I said.

            “That’s my name, don’t wear it out,” she said casually. “So you didn’t tell me. How did you fall off the map from your popular radio show?”

            “I simply changed my main broadcast topic from politics to teaching the Bible and religious history. Most of my sponsors let me go, so I was forced to start my own podcast, losing most of my listeners in the process.”

            “So it was becoming a Christian, rather than being a perv?”

            “Sorry to disappoint you.”

            “I’m not disappointed at all,” she said, and pulled a pocket size Bible from her flannel shirt. “I’m a believer too.”

            “That’s good!” I told her. I paused, and very gently asked, “So why did you shop lift then?”

            She looked me square in the eyes. “Because I hadn’t eaten in two days.”

            Although it was she that broke the eighth commandment, it was me that felt a sense of shame. Meekly, I replied, “I see.”

            I looked at my shoes in the bustling courthouse hall. I was relieved when my wife stepped to my side. “Inga, this is my wife, Zella. Zella, Inga Cognito.”

            “Inga Cognito?” My wife frowned.

            “Oh, he’s crazy. My name is Inga Likus.”

            My wife looked rather puzzled about me conversing with this wild looking young lady. But then she smiled warmly at her when Inga declared, “Wow, what are you an African princess?”

            “No, I’m afraid not.”

            “You look like Karrueche Tran.”

            “I assume that’s a complement, so thank you.”

            “It is, she’s lovely. So what are you doing with this very pale radio has been?”

            The urge to put my hands around her neck was returning.

            “I don’t know,” Zella said, looking at me with a frown. Then she grinned and winked.

            “Inga here is shop lifter,” I said, then instantly regretted it. “Sorry, that was low.”

            Inga simply shrugged. “Only when I’m hungry or otherwise need something to survive.”

            “Where do you live?” Zella asked.

            “In a tent, if it’s still where I left it.”

            “Hey,” Zella said, her face lighting up. “Our son is up in Minnesota for the summer at his grandparents farm. You could stay in his room for a while to get back on your feet.”

            I looked at my wife, stunned. Then realized I was shaking my head. I turned my gaze onto Inga, and she was looking at me with a sad countenance. “That’s okay, I’ve never had solid footing to get my feet back onto.”

            Jesus’s words flashed through my mind. “Whatever you have done to one of the least of these My brothers and sisters, you’ve done for me.” (Matthew 25:40, 45)

            “Zella is right,” I told Inga. “Please come and stay with us, and we’ll help you get your feet on solid ground.”

            “Why would you invite me into your home?” she asked meekly. “One of the only things you know about me is that I’m a thief.”

            I felt my toes curl. Was this a warning? Oh well, anything she might steal from us was replaceable. But the Holy Spirit, also known as The Comforter, comforted me by giving me these words. “Another thing I know about you is you carry a pocket size New Testament with you.”

            Zella happily took hold of one of Inga’s hands. Inga pulled back, a little startled. But then she let my lovely wife hold her hand. “Inga, come have supper with us. I made a lasagna and there’s plenty. Then take a long shower while I prepare your bed for you.”

            Inga had a look of awe and gratitude on her face, like we were offering a great gift. It occurred to me how often we take for granted everyday blessings. She croaked, “Okay, thank you.”

            Over dinner, Inga was reluctant to say much about herself. When I asked how she ended up in Iowa, clear from the west coast, all she said was a girl she knew was coming here and that there were more jobs to be had than in California. Inga had now been in Iowa six weeks and had not found a job. She shrugged and said, “Kind of hard when you have no address to put down on an application.”

            Inga certainly took Zella up on a long shower. I heard the water running for almost a half an hour. I think the only reason she stopped was she ran out of hot water. When she was done, Zella helped her get settled in the bedroom. I’m ashamed to say, I stood outside the closed door and eavesdropped.

            “Oooooh, this is so comfortable.” I heard Inga purr.

            “I’m glad you like it,” Zella enthused.

            “I love it! Thank you so much!”

            “You’re very welcome.”

            “I haven’t slept in something softer than my sleeping bag in four years.”

            My mind’s eye saw the tattered sleeping bag as she carried it into our house.

            “I’m so glad you like it, goodnight.”

            I heard the door handle jiggle and quickly tiptoed the short distance to our living room. I sat down on the couch and picked up a book. Zella walked briskly toward me with what appeared to be a stern expression. My first thought was that she was gonna scold me for eavesdropping. But how could she know?

            Instead, my wife sat down hard next to me on the sofa, grabbed a decorative pillow, pressed it to her face and sobbed.

HEAVY METAL MIRACLES – PART 2 – CHAPTER 8

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

HEAVY METAL MIRACLES

PART 2

CHAPTER 8

NANCY

COME NOW, AND LET US REASON TOGETHER SAYS THE LORD (Isaiah 1:18)

            As Nancy looked at herself in the mirror, she felt a panic attack coming on. Was this dinner date with Drew an actual date? Why had she put on a dress? Had Drew ever seen her in a dress? How would he be dressed? In jeans and t-shirt? Or like she’d seen him when he was off to church, in Docker pants with a button up collar?

            Why did she feel so nervous? It was just Drew. The boy she grew up with. The boy who by times felt like a sibling. The boy she solved mysteries with. The boy who had often coaxed her out of her shell, convincing her to play hide and seek, and dodge ball with other kids. The boy who was always so kind and gentle. The boy she saw wipe a tear from his eye when he failed to save a wounded bird.

            But the boy was now a man, and she a woman. Her feelings for him had changed, and she didn’t understand them. They both intrigued and frightened her. The things that happened to her before she and her mother moved from California to Iowa had made her asexual. The things that happened to her made her skin crawl at the thought of physical intimacy.

            However, during her fifteenth year of life, Drew began to draw her out of her shell once again, but in a different way. Only this time he was unwittingly pulling her into feelings of romance. Strangely, it was peppermint gum that brought her to a fork in the road four years earlier.

            She had felt frisky with desire that day as they walked on the nature trail outside of town. Was this what normal girls felt she wondered? She both loved and loathed these feelings in the core of her being.

            Drew had been chewing a piece of peppermint Trident. She had been chewing a piece of grape Hubba Bubba. Her move had been calculated, for she had noticed that he had popped his last piece into his mouth. She said, “I don’t like this grape gum, give me a piece of yours.”

            “This was my last piece,” he replied.

            She noticed the look in his eyes. Even with something as simple as not being able to provide a piece of gum for her disappointed him. Oh how she loved him! But she also despised him for making her feel this way. She wanted to scream ‘kiss me you fool!’ Instead she substituted this desire in a very teenage manner. “Let’s just swap what we’re chewing.”

            “Huh?” he had responded confused. But then a little smile played at his lips when Nancy plucked the gum from her mouth and held it a foot’s length from his face. He mimicked her action, and they stood showing each other their ABC gum.

            “Open wide,” she instructed. She giggled as he obeyed, his action reminding her of a baby bird.

            They both stood chewing their new gum, enthralled that they were doing the equivalent of French kissing without actually touching. Yet, being teenagers, they both acted like it was no big deal. Nancy liked the fact that they were doing something kind of intimate without actually touching. One of her biggest fears was being touched by a boy in an intimate manner. Despite countless hours of psychological therapy, the idea always made her shudder. Until Drew.

            Nancy wiped off the little bit off makeup she had put on. Then she peeled the dress off and put on gray sweats. She also put on a Cedar Rapids Kernels baseball hat backwards. If she didn’t feel like herself, her nerves would never subside. And if they didn’t subside, she wouldn’t have the courage to reveal her secret to Drew.

            Was she really going to? What would he think of her? What had he always thought of her? She knew that he knew that she was odd, but how much did he ponder why? Her hand shook as she retrieved utensils for making dinner. She replaced them in the drawer and decided to order Chinese takeout instead.

            Nancy’s heart raced when she heard Drew knock on her apartment door. Then she relaxed some when she saw his easy, familiar smile. He was dressed in jeans and a light blue Carhardt t-shirt. Was the light blue to set her at ease? Did he remember light blue was her favorite color?

            Their attire signified old friends rather than a first date. This both pleased her and disappointed her. But her main goal wasn’t necessarily romantic, it was to heal. The question was, would she have the courage to confide her deep, dark secret? The only people in Iowa that knew it were her mother, and a few doctors.

            “Come in, Drew. I hope you don’t mind, time got away from me, so I ordered Chinese for dinner.”

            “No, no, I love Chinese.”

            And I love you, she thought. So much so it hurts. So much so it drove her crazy, so she had to drive you away. Now what was I doing these four years later, she wondered. Trying to reel you in once and for all, or driving you away permanently after I reveal how disgusting I am.

            They exchanged small talk throughout the meal. Nancy acknowledged that she didn’t know what she wanted to do with her life. She wavered on whether she wanted to go back to college for her sophomore year. Drew talked of his plan to work for his Uncle’s construction company as he “waited on the Lord,” to see if he was being called to full time ministry in some capacity.

            This was the perfect segway to take her in the direction of confession. She told him. “I’ve been reading the Bible quite a bit.”

            “Really!” He replied enthusiastically.

            She realized that for someone like Drew, this could be leading him on. She knew their opposing world views was an obstacle for him. She also knew he hoped to convert her. She shrugged and grinned. “I guess I’m looking for loopholes.”

            He frowned. “What do you mean by loopholes?”

            “Some of us are beyond redemption.”

            “Nobody is beyond redemption.”

            She snorted. “That’s easy for you to say.”

            “Yes it is,” he replied, surprising her with his quick agreement. “Because I’ve read the Word of God.”

            Nancy’s heart pounded as her secret was already upon her lips. She thought it would take a while to work up to it. With a quiver in her voice she began. “I see. Does this Word of God have anything to say about a little girl that… that…”

            Choking back a sob, she pushed away from her kitchen table and walked into the living room, fighting back tears. She wasn’t going to be able to tell him. He came up behind her and put gentle hands on her upper arms. She shuddered and barked, “Don’t touch me!”

            “Sorry,” he said quickly as he took a step back.

            She was breathing as though she had just finished a sprint. She had come to learn something about true believers. Not the majority of professed Christians, who wanted their worldly cake and to eat it too, but the people who you could see Jesus through. Drew’s character had been his witness, and not a set of dogmas.

            She turned, unashamed of her tear steaked face. She gasped when she noticed Drew’s calm face had two trails of tears down his cheeks. She was further surprised when she heard herself say, “I think I’m becoming a believer in Jesus.”

            “Nancy, that’s wonderful!”

            She stepped toward him and dragged her thumb over his tear streaks. “You’ve always claimed that the goodness I’ve seen in you is, how do you say it? Christ in you the hope of glory.”

            “That’s right! Colossians 1:27.”

            For some reason, Nancy now felt the courage to reveal her deep dark secret. But she also suspected that it would be the wedge keeping them from any possibility of romance. Not only because of her own hang ups, but because Drew deserved somebody that wasn’t damaged, even shattered goods. She took a deep breath. “Okay, let’s try this again.”

            “Nancy, you don’t have to do this.”

            “Yes I do,” she said quietly, and forced a smile. “You see… When I…”

            She began to tremble, then shake uncontrollably. Drew felt like someone had electrified his nerves. What had happened to Nancy that the memory of it rattled her this much? She was the strongest, feistiest female he had ever known. With maybe the exception of his own mother.

            She looked him right in the eyes. She smiled when she saw the sympathy and pure love there. “Drew, will you hold me?”

            “Of course,” he replied, and she stepped into his embrace.

            She shook as though they were standing in below zero weather without coats. He offered up a silent prayer. ‘Lord, please comfort this broken girl, and please give me wisdom on how to deal with her, what to say and what to do.’

HEAVY METAL MIRACLES – PART 2 – CHAPTER 5

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

HEAVY METAL MIRACLES

PART 2

CHAPTER 5

DREW

HE HEALS THE BROKENHEARTED AND BINDS UP THEIR WOUNDS (Psalm 147:3)

            My heart raced when my shovel scrapped a green tarpaulin. Nancy and I looked at each other wide eyed. I removed more dirt, and we had little doubt that it was a body wrapped and tied within the tarp. I reached down to pull it out of the makeshift grave, but Nancy stopped me.

            “Drew, don’t touch it! Let’s notify the police.”

            An hour later the quiet, so called haunted woods were surrounded with flashing lights with a multitude of voices, a helicopter, and news crews. Nancy did most of the talking when we were questioned by the authorities. Ben Weaver was brought in for questioning, subsequently arrested, and has been incarcerated ever since.

            It was evening by the time we left the police station. Nancy and I had driven there in my pickup truck, so I had to drive her back to Baylor’s Woods to retrieve her car. The whole night had been a blur. But as we pulled up next to Nancy’s car, the events that led to finding the body came back full force.

            She had kissed me. She had thrown her promise ring over her shoulder into the graveyard. We had kissed each other again. Then we had looked for her discarded ring. Then we had discovered Channel Northrup’s body. Then chaos ensued. Now we looked at each other with discombobulated minds.

            Where did we go from here? She didn’t get out of my truck. Was I supposed to kiss her good night right after we solved a murder? Of course kissing was what we were doing moments before our gruesome discovery. But she wasn’t even looking at me. She was staring out the windshield like a zombie. So I said, “What a day, huh?”

            “And night,” she said quietly without looking at me.

            After a long moment of silence, I groped for something to say. “We never did find your ring.”

            “I’ll come look tomorrow,” she replied, still not looking at me.

            “I’ll help you.”

            “You don’t have to.”

            “I don’t mind.”

            “Suit yourself.”

            Well, the question of a goodnight kiss was answered. No way! I was suddenly bone tired. I wished she would just go.

            “I better go,” she suddenly said. And she began to exit my truck.

            “Okay, well, it was good seeing you again. I wish it was under better circumstances.”

            She stopped and gave me a tired smile. “Yeah, it started out so well and then turned into a horror movie.”

            I nodded as I thought, yeah just like our relationship. We were great friends as children, and then as we grew into teenagers, it turned into a nightmare. I said, “You accomplished your purpose though.”

            She smiled sentimentally. “Yes, with your help.”

            I shrugged. “I wouldn’t have stumbled onto to the suspicious grave if you hadn’t thrown your ring.”

            “Yeah, my ring. I hope I find it.”

            I noticed the “I” rather than “we.” So I said, “I hope you find your ring.”

            “Thanks,” she said, her smile was forced, and she patted my knee. “Goodnight.”

            As I watched her get into her own car and start it, I thought of something my brother had said after he and a girlfriend had broken up. ‘Women, you can’t live with them, and you can’t live without them.’

            I wasn’t as handsome as my brother or as well built. I also had a more difficult time with puberty. So whereas he always had numerous females desiring him, and giving him attention, my only experience with the opposite sex was my friendship with Nancy.

            I didn’t see Nancy again until almost a week later. It was at Channel Northrup’s funeral. She was dressed in black slacks and a black turtleneck. Her left ring finger was still unadorned. But her left eye was wearing a dark shade of purple. I sat next to her in the back pew of the church.

            “What happened to your eye?”

            “Diego and I had an argument.”

            “Looks like more than an argument.”

            She shrugged. “I had him charged with assault.”

            “Good for you. So, you didn’t find the ring then.”

            “I didn’t have to. The police called me in the morning. It turned up in their evidence. But Diego didn’t like it when I gave it back to him.”

            “I see,” I replied, hooking my thumbs into my gray Dockers.

            She answered the question in my gaze. “Look, Drew, I guess we discovered a mutual attraction the other day. But I need time. What with my breakup, and, you know, what happened before we found Channel. It was… It was…”

            “Amazing?”

            “Bizarrely so… But also a bad omen.”

            “A bad omen?”

            “I’ve always been torn about you, Drew. He loves me, he loves me not. He’s right for me, he’s wrong for me. I can’t believe I’m kissing Drew. I can’t believe we found a dead body.”

            “I think it’s quite a story to tell.”

            “It doesn’t bother you that two minutes after we kissed for the first time, we found a murder victim?”

            “I’m not superstitious. But technically, we didn’t discover the body until an hour later after we went and got shovels.”

            The service started. At the end, the pastor petitioned us to stand and sing a hymn. As the singing began, Nancy scooted past me and exited the building. A minute later, I glanced out of the window and saw her blue Spark ease onto the road from the church’s parking lot.

            I was a little surprised to learn that Channel came from a conservative Christian home. During questioning at police headquarters, we had come to discover that Channel was a bit of a wild child.  Actually, seeing a few pictures of her before her demise, I should probably take the ‘bit’ away from the ‘wild.’

            I had to keep my jaw from dropping when a young lady who looked exactly like Channel from the pictures I saw approach me. Only instead of a short skirt, low cut top, bleach blonde hair, multiple piercings and stripper like makeup, this version of Channel looked Amish. She had a long, plain black dress, hair somewhere between light brown and sandy blonde, and no makeup. Instead of multiple piercings, her hair was pulled into a bun with multiple bobby pins. Even her large round eyes were gray.

            You might say I had a different taste in females than the average young man. Whereas I could see plenty of guys going gaga over Channel. This young lady, who had to be her sister, extended her hand with her eyes red rimmed. Yet as she forced a smile, displaying a crooked eye tooth that I found endearing, I realized I was holding my breath.

            “Hi, my name is Callie,” she greeted.

            “I’m Drew.”

            “Are you the guy that found Channel?” she asked with a soft voice.

            “Well, me and another person found her.”

            She extended her hand to shake. As I took hold of her hand, it was moist, clammy, and limp. This also appealed to me for some strange reason. It made me want to protect her somehow. She said, “Was it that guy you were sitting with?”

            “Guy? You mean the person in all black with the short strawberry blond hair?”

            “Yes.”

            “That was a gal. And yes it was she and I that, you know…”

            “Oh, sorry, I didn’t get a good look. I had been crying when my other sister pointed you two out. I just wanted to say, thank you, though.”

            “You’re welcome, but more importantly, I’m very sorry for your loss. Psalm 34:18 says the Lord is near those who have a broken heart.”

            “Are you a believer?” she looked at me hopefully.

            “Yes I am.”

            “It was a depressing service, wasn’t it?” She declared and I agreed. But I didn’t want to respond. I waited and she continued, “But Channel did go to a Christless grave, and everybody knew it.”

            I suspected her religion was the fire and brimstone type. And although the minister didn’t directly put Channel in hell, he also hadn’t been optimistic about her salvation.

            Callie began to whimper. “It makes me sick thinking she’s is hell.”

            “Do you believe the Bible?” I asked.

            “Of course I do.”

            “Then I can promise you she’s not in hell.”

            “What do you mean? Jesus himself declares that the ungodly go to everlasting punishment.”

            “Punishment, not punishing. Meaning their fate is permanent, not the torment. Do you believe the Bible teaches that the wicked have eternal life?”

            “Of course not,” she said, and then frowned. Then she looked astonished. “The wages of sin is death.”

            “Right,” I said giving her a reassuring smile, then gave her the fastest Bible study I have ever given in my short life. “The ungodly suffer doom, or destruction, Job 21:30. They will perish, Psalm 37:20. They will burn up, Malachi 4:1. They will be destroyed, Psalm 37:38. They will vanish away, Psalm 37:20. They will be cut off, Psalm 37: 9. And will be slain Psalm 62:3. God will destroy them 145:20. The fire will devour them, Psalm 21:9. Notice that. Devour, not burn eternally.”

            (For a more in-depth study on the topic of hellfire, contact Amazing Facts and ask for the free study guide #11, ‘Is the devil in charge of hell?’)

            “Are you some type of pastor?” she asked with a look of awe. “You seem too young.”

            “No, I just graduated from high school.”

            “Are you going to be?”

            I shrugged. “I’m gonna work construction for my uncle this summer and pray about what God would have me do with my life.”

            “Well, I think you should be, you brought me a ton of comfort just now.”

            “Praise God.”

            “I don’t understand why my church is so adamant about hell. It’s like they want to scare people. I try to focus on Jesus, trusting that I’m saved, and that one day in the great beyond, when God wipes away all tears, that we will be made to understand. For now it just plain hurts.”

            I wanted to ask her what she was doing with her life, but I didn’t know if it would be appropriate in this setting. I also didn’t think the atmosphere right to ask her to get together. Then a couple older ladies came up and hugged her. They began talking, so I quietly slipped away.

            As appealing as I found Callie, and as unsuperstitious as I was, meeting at her sister’s funeral did seem like a strange vibe. Other than praying for her, I put any notion of getting to know her out of my mind. But she called me three days later.

            “Hey, Drew, this is Callie, Channel’s sister,” she began. “I called the police to ask for your number. I told them I wanted to thank you. So I’ll say it again. Thank you.”

            “You’re welcome. And once again, I’m sorry for your loss.”

            “So to be up front and not beat around the bush, I talked to my pastor about the things you told me about hell. I didn’t like his explanation. You quoted nine or ten Bible verses in under a minute. He quoted two in fifteen minutes, and they weren’t nearly as convincing.”

            She paused long enough that I figured she wanted some reply. “Well, thank you, I guess I study quite a bit.”

            “So he told me he knew of you, and thought you went to some seventh day Sabbath church.”

            “I do,” I replied, frowning and wondering how her pastor would know of me.

            “He told me to keep my distance, that you were a legalistic bunch that denies being saved by grace.”

            “False and false,” I replied. “Jesus said if you love me keep my commandments. That’s found in John 14:15. Since I love the Lord, I keep His commandments, including the seventh day Sabbath.”

            “I was wondering if we could get together. I want to run by some of the things he said and see what you have to say for yourself.”

            “Sure, I’d be glad to. Look, it’s almost lunchtime, how about we meet at the Bluebird Café. I’ll buy.”

            There was a pause. “I’m actually kind of seeing someone.”

            “Me too,” I told her, thinking of Nancy and I kissing. “But to truthful, right now she needs a little space.”

            “I just wanted to be clear. My intentions are spiritual, not romantic. We met at my sister’s funeral after all.”

            “Right.”

            Half an hour later, Callie and I met outside of the café. She had her hair pulled back on both sides with clips, and her dishwater blonde hair flowed over her shoulders. She wore a white t-shirt with a green button up sweater. Her long denim skirt went a few inches past her knees, with white Vans on her feet. With what I could see of her legs, I thought they were even more pale than her arms and face. Then I realized she was wearing white tights.

            To the rest of the world, she looked like a plain Jane. Maybe even peculiar. But to me she was a vision of loveliness, even Godliness. A hostess seated us in a booth. I had just begun to ask Callie what she did, but before I could, she took hold of my hand and with a of fondness on her countenance. “I just want thank you for our little talk at my sister’s funeral. I can’t even describe what a comfort it was to me.”

            I was about to reply with something like ‘aw shucks,’ when I noticed a waitress step up to our table in my peripheral vision. I heard her gasp before I saw her face. I said, “Nancy!”

            “Drew!”

HEAVY METAL MIRACLES – PART 2 – CHAPTER 4

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

HEAVY METAL MIRACLES

PART 2

CHAPTER 4

DREW

DELIVER THOSE WHO ARE DRAWN TOWARD DEATH, AND HOLD BACK THOSE STUMBLING TO THE SLAUGHTER (Proverbs 24:11)

            “How do you know Ben was the last to see this girl?” I asked Nancy.

            “Multiple people told the police when they briefly looked into it,” she explained.  “Even her best friend said the last time she saw her was when she was leaving a frat party with Ben.”

            “Her who, what’s this girl’s name?”

            “Channel Northrup, nineteen years old.”

            “If you really think she’s out here, we should get a dog.”

            “That’s a good idea! Does your mom still have dogs?”

            “A couple rug rats. They’re not exactly blood hounds, more like pampered lap dogs.”

            “Let’s look around. We’ll worry about getting a dog out here later.”

            I liked that she said we. Just like old times, Nancy and Drew sleuthing together. Only this time it wasn’t stolen lunch money, and we weren’t exactly kids any more. So we began a sweep of the spooky half of the woods. As we walked ten feet apart, we talked and got caught up on each other’s lives.

            For me there wasn’t much to tell. So I started off with asking the most curious thing about my old, young friend. “Is that an engagement ring on your left hand?”

            She held it out and looked at it briefly before replying, “Promise ring.”

            “Who’s the lucky guy?”

            “What makes you think it’s from a guy?” she asked, glancing at me with a challenging smirk.

            I had tried to explain back when she began to pull away from our friendship, that just because I lived my life by Biblical standards didn’t mean I looked down on people that didn’t. Only God knows the heart, I tried to reiterate that over and over, but to no avail. Only God is the judge, and only He has the ability to know who is following the light that they have.

            I shrugged. “Okay, who’s the lucky girl?”

            “It is from a guy,” she said, looking at it again as if it puzzled her.

            “You must be pretty serious then?”

            Now she made a face as if she bit into something sour. “I don’t know. We were just friends for most of the school year. I’m mostly asexual, so I wanted us to just stay friends. But a few weeks ago we both had been drinking at a party and ended up kissing. Rather passionately, actually. But I still had enough wits about myself to refrain from getting too touchy feely.”

            The irony about Nancy’s and my friendship dissolving was the older we got, the more I fancied her. I had hoped she felt the same, but then she began to pull away. It must have been the asexual thing. Plus we both seemed to want to convert each other to our opposing world views.

            I tried not to feel jealous thinking about her kissing a guy passionately, especially the not getting TOO touchy feely part. Just how much was the TOO? And what did MOSTLY asexual mean anyway? When she continued, it only intensified my battle with the green eyed monster.

            “After I told him I wasn’t comfortable having sex without a commitment, I thought that would get him to back off. Instead he gave me this ring. So I thought, okay, he’s really sweet, really into me, decent enough looking, why not give him what he wants, so I accepted it.”

            I almost threw up in my mouth. The odd thing is I already assumed that she was no longer chaste. For a tomboy, Nancy was rather feminine in tough sort of way, if that makes sense. Plus she was kind of cute, and I liked that she was a jeans and t-shirt type of girl with no frills or gaudy makeup, with her short red gold hair often looking windblown.

            “So, we kind of had an unspoken agreement that this would be the weekend,” she continued, with a strangely pained looking expression on her face, and twirling the ring nervously round and round her finger. She whispered, even though we were very much alone, “That we would, you know, have sex.”

            She opened the door for me to extract some information discreetly. “So you had planned on losing your virginity this weekend, but this missing girl thing came up instead?”

            “Exactly!” She beamed.

            I felt like I had just given the green eyed monster a solid right hook that staggered him. The only girl I ever had a major crush on thus far in my life was still chaste! For the time being anyway. The fantasy was still alive! Yet at the bottom of my heart, I knew I didn’t want to be yoked with someone that wasn’t of faith like mine. Yet there was no young lady in my church that tripped my trigger. So I had been mentally preparing for what the Apostle Paul advised in in 1 Corinthians 7:7-9.

            She stopped walking, so did I. She faced me from ten feet apart, so I faced her. She said, “I thought looking into this mystery was a convenient excuse to postpone, you know, consummating with Diego.”

            A few birds began squabbling in the dank woods about twenty feet away, causing us to look. It was as if the green eyed monster leapt up and charged at me again. She was only postponing sex with her would be Latin lover. But the old green eyed fellow didn’t see a left hook coming.

            “But running into you here,” she said as she stepped toward me with a look of awe in her  emerald eyes. “It seems like a sign.”

            “What kind of sign?” I asked, both hopeful and hesitant.

            Her look of awe turned into consternation. She did a one eighty, walked briskly to fallen log and sat. She continued to turn the ring as if trying to unscrew it from her finger. But apparently in wouldn’t come off. Would that monster not stay down? I slowly walked over and sat a few feet away from her on the log.

            I tried again. “What did you mean by a sign?”

            “You’re the only guy I ever truly desired,” she said quietly.

            “What’d you say?” I asked, not quite sure I heard her right. I thought it might have finally been a knockout blow for the monster. Until she barked, “You heard me!”

            “Well, you’re the only girl I have ever desired,” I told her.

            “Could have fooled me,” she quipped as she stood and walked several paces, then abruptly crossing her arms.

            I walked to her, and wondered what I should do. Rub her back? Hug her? Instead I jammed my hands into my jean pockets, looked at her out of the corners of my eyes, and asked cautiously. “What do you mean by could have fooled you?”

            She smiled sadly at me. Then she gently said, with fondness in her voice, “Remember the last few months we hung out? I wanted you kiss me so badly, but you just wouldn’t take the hint.”

            I frowned. What hint? “The last few months we hung out, you seemed to frequently try to engage us in arguments. I felt like you were pulling away, which you were. So what kind of hint wasn’t I getting?”

            She put a hand on her forehead, covering her eyes as if embarrassed. “Do you not remember swapping gum?”

            “Of course I do, it was the biggest thrill I ever had in our time together!”

            It happened about a half a dozen times, seven to be exact. Nancy would try a new flavor of gum, not like it, and ask me to trade with her. Not out of the pack mind you, but the gum we were currently chewing. Her excuse was not being wasteful.

            Now I was strictly a peppermint Trident man when it came to chew. But I didn’t hesitate to take on a foreign flavor if it meant trading spit with the girl of my dreams.

            She removed her hand from her eyes. “Really! It was?”

            “You bet! As a matter of fact, you’re the only girl I have ever kissed.”

            She giggled. “We never actually kissed. We just swapped gum. Kissing entails contact.”

            “Well, to me it was like kissing.”

            “So how come you never tried for the real thing then?”

            “I wanted to,” I confessed. “Oh did I ever want to. But something always told me to keep my distance… So that gum thing was a hint?”

            “Ya think? Asking to swap with me once would be one thing, Twice a coincidence. But a half dozen times with ABC gum was a major hint. I mean would you swap ABC gum with Jerry even once?”

            She was referring to my brother. “No way!”

            “See, and I asked you a half dozen times!”

            “Actually it was seven to be exact,” I told her with a coy smile.

            She smiled warmly. “Yes, seven. Grape, banana, strawberry, tropical, wintergreen, bubble gum that tasted like cardboard, and spearmint.”

            “I did think it a little odd that you didn’t just buy peppermint Trident since you seemed to like mine. But I enjoyed your sampling of different flavors, and was glad you didn’t.”

            We looked at each other for a long moment. She licked her lips. Did she want me to kiss her now? I remained frozen, not knowing what to do. With wide eyes she asked, “Why did you feel like keeping your distance from me?”

            As a kid you often avoid difficult, emotional stuff. Which I did. But as an adult, for I was a month from eighteen, healthy communication is good for a relationship. Even if it is only as friends. “I always detected something very broken in you, so I treaded carefully.”

            Her eyes welled, and she nodded. “You’re wise beyond your years, and I was a fool. I did have something very traumatic in my life before mom and I moved here.”

            I remember Nancy showing up around the third grade. My first impressions of her were quiet, pensive, sullen, but cute. “Do you want to talk about it?”

            She shook her head emphatically. “No.”

            “Okay,” I smiled.

            She now began to twist that ring so vigorously that I was concerned it would draw blood. “It’s so odd. That last year we hung out. I so badly wanted you to hug me by times, hold my hand, kiss me. Yet just as often I wanted you to keep your distance, hands off. Talk about a walking contradiction. Then I treated you like my psychological hang ups were your fault, or your God’s fault. I’m surprised you put up with me. You should have been the one to tell me to pound sand, not the other way around.”

            She looked hard at me. I couldn’t say anything until she prodded it out of me. “Why?”

            “Because I love you.”

            “You mean loved, as in past tense?”

            “No, love, as in always.”

            “You mean as friends?” she asked and then bit her thumb, gazing at me with anguished eyes.

            “What else?” I shrugged. Then I smiled. “After all, swapping gum isn’t a real kiss.”

            She took several quick steps toward me, placed both hands on the sides of my cheeks and pressed her mouth hard against mine. After five to ten seconds she pulled away and looked puzzled. “You didn’t kiss me back.”

            I took hold of her left hand and lifted it up as if to kiss the back of it. “You’re promised to someone else.”

            After all that twisting, she yanked it off in a second and tossed it behind her shoulder. Our searching of the woods had brought us by the old cemetery. The ring made a tink as it ricocheted off a tombstone. This time I kissed her back.

            After a few minutes, it was getting pretty steamy, so I gently eased away. But Nancy kept her arms hooked around my neck and whispered. “Let’s make love. I want you to be my first.”

            Her first? “I want you to be my only. But only after marriage.”

            She smiled and gave me a soft kiss. “Drew, it’s the twenty first century.”

            “Biblical morality is timeless. Besides, what happened to you being asexual? You want me to be the first of how many?”

            Her arms dropped to her sides, and she shook her head. “First is a figure of speech, and I said mostly asexual. As in you’re an exception.”

            “An exception, or the exception?”

            “Obviously I planned on sleeping with Diego. So how can I say you’re the only exception? But it’s only you two.”

            Those who wrote songs about love hurting sure got it right. Especially when you fall for someone with a different value system. She looked toward the area where she threw her ring. “I better find that ring. I’ll need to give it back to Diego.”

            Oh the yins and yangs of life! First I’m fighting off jealousy over Diego. Then I started panicking over her breaking up with him, seemingly to be with me. Sure I found her attractive, but ultimately I needed to be with someone of like beliefs. Can two walk together, unless they are agreed? (Amos 3:3).

            I helped her scan the cemetery for her ring. We were moving sticks and branches out of the way with our feet, when I noticed something out of the ordinary. At a spot in between two tombstones, the earth beneath the leaf and stick debris was different. It wasn’t quite as hard packed as the rest of the graveyard. And it had been double digit decades since someone had been buried out here. Or had it?

            “Nancy?” I said a little breathlessly.

            “Drew?”

            “Check this out.”

            She observed my observation. Then we both looked at each other, and at the same time said, “Let’s get shovels.”