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BLACK SABBATH – CHAPTER 25

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

BLACK SABBATH

CHAPTER 25

ZELLA LaSTELLA-SALLIE

THE END OF A THING IS BETTER THAN ITS BEGINNING. THE PATIENT IN SPIRIT IS BETTER THAN THE PROUD IN SPIRIT. (Ecclesiastes 7:8)

            As several of us sat on the deck, Lindsey Wadena had just shown me a picture on her phone of the very meeting between her and her husband. She had said a dog had played match maker between them. I had witnessed something similar myself with Willa Waconia and Billy Bob Booker. The parallel between Lindsey and Mick’s romantic account and the one I witnessed several years ago had my curiosity at a peek.

            A friend of Lindsey’s had taken the photo when she witnessed her asexual gal pal chatting it up with a bare chested young stud. Standing beside her, gazing fondly up at Mick was a German Shepard mix. His name was Jitterbug.

            “He was such a scared little boy when I first got him,” Lindsey explained. “He was only about six months old and would just start trembling for no apparent reason. A friend of mine rescued him from a horrible situation. He was undernourished and had been abused. My friend already had five dogs, so I took him in.

            “He was called Nacho when I first got him. But as I spoke softly to him and nurtured him, I would say ‘aren’t you just a little jitterbug.’ I didn’t really care for the name Nacho; it just didn’t seem to fit him. Then a girlfriend suggested I call him Jitterbug, and then I started calling him Jitts for short.

            “It didn’t take too long for his trembling to go away. But I began to notice a pattern with him. Every time a guy came around he would hide and start trembling again. This didn’t happen very often. I didn’t have a boyfriend and I seldom dated. So it was usually my dad or my brother.”

            As a woman of around fifty, Lindsey was certainly nice looking. But the photo she showed me in her mid-twenties revealed an absolute knock out. She also looked like she stepped out of a fitness magazine in her spandex shorts and sports bra. So I had to ask, “So, you just weren’t interested in romance?”

            “Yes and no,” she replied. Then her large almond shaped eyes looked sad. “I had my own tragedy when I was a teenager. Maybe that’s why Jitts and I bonded so well.”

            “Were you abused?” I asked softly, cautiously.

            She shook her head and I noticed her jaw tighten. “When I was thirteen and my sister Lana was sixteen, she was date raped.”

            “Oh no!” I couldn’t help blurting.

            She bowed her head and nodded. “It was horrible. What made it worse was I had such a major crush on her boyfriend.”

            There was an awkward silence for a long moment. Selfishly I felt disappointed. For I was desiring a heartwarming story similar to the one I experienced with my dog Free, not an ugly recount of an innocent girl defiled by unbridled lust.

            “Three months after the ordeal,” Lindsey continued. “Lana swallowed all of her antidepressant medications and some sleeping pills. Her stomach was pumped and she spent a few weeks in a psychiatric unit of a hospital. The very day she was released, she slit her wrists in the bath tub. This time she didn’t survive.”

            “I’m so, so sorry,” I told her. She nodded and as she wiped at a tear. It struck me that even after all these years, the pain of her sister’s torment and death lurked just beneath the surface of her soul. How many such people have we encountered, unaware of the pain they keep hidden. It was a lesson for me about being kind to everyone we meet, despite any sour dispositions they may have.

            “I’m sorry as well, for that depressing little antidote,” Lindsey said, forcing a smile. “But I guess I needed to tell the back story of Jitts and me, and how he ended up unwittingly setting me up with Mick.”

            Lindsey showed me another picture. This one was of a teenage girl and a dog that looked similar to Jitts. The teenage girl also looked similar to Lindsey. But she wasn’t the striking beauty Lindsey was in the first photo she showed me of her, Mick and Jitts. Lana looked wholesome in a long dress with her hair pulled back, grinning from ear to ear with a crooked tooth smile.

            “I love her big grin in this pic,” Lindsey said with a sentimental smile. “Lana was bi-polar. She was also painfully shy and timid, yet sometimes she could be volatile and angry. But Yoda brought her out of her shell like no one else could.”

            “Yoda?” I asked with an arched eyebrow.

            “Our brother was a huge Star Wars fan,” she laughed. “When he suggested Yoda, Lana thought it was a good fit. You can see there was another reason I fell in love with Jitts.”

            “Yeah, they look like they came from the same litter,” I commented.

            “Anyway, I was leery of guys, I guess because of what happened to Lana. Jitts didn’t like guys and was afraid of them. So I developed a personal rule. If Jitts didn’t like a guy and hid, I wouldn’t continue to go out with him. This rule proved to be somewhat unreasonable. I didn’t realize Jitts would cower from virtually every guy he came across. The only guy that won him over was my brother, and he is not the macho type at all.

            “So when I met Mick, I was twenty-two. I’d had Jitts for about four years and had zero love life. Come to think of it, maybe Jitts wanted me all to himself,” she laughed. “Until he invited Mick into my life that is.”

            Mick must have been overhearing our conversation because he interjected. “I don’t know about that. Every time we sat next to each other, he nosed in between us.”

            “Yeah, but then what happened a few months in?” Lindsey replied with a disapproving, yet light hearted gaze.

            “Whatever do you mean?” Mick responded innocently.

            She chuckled and looked at me. “I mean that a few months in, Jitts turned his primary affections onto Mick. He followed him wherever he went. He stopped nosing between us and just crawled onto Mick’s lap.”

            “The big lug,” Mick laughed. “Seventy five pounds isn’t exactly a lap dog.”

            “So how did Jitts play match maker?” I asked eagerly.

            “A friend of mine had this cousin that was a pretty famous Christian rock rapper. His stage name is H. R. Puffin.”

            “I’ve heard of him,” I interjected.

            “So she, me and two other girlfriends were going to his show in Madison, Wisconsin. Mick’s band turned out to be Puffin’s special guest on the tour. My friends and I all lived in Duluth at the time. I wasn’t into the concert at all. I didn’t know or necessarily like Puffin’s music or big crowds. But we were gonna camp at Devil’s Head the day before, and rock climb and hike. Nature was what I was really into! Plus I had an aunt that lived near Madison, and she was willing to watch Jitts while we went to the show. So I agreed to go on the trip.

            “So we were at Devil’s Head the day before the show. One of my girlfriends and I went for a run and Jitts came with us. We had just run some hills and was walking to catch our breath.  Then Jitts just up and runs off like a flash.

            “There was a shirtless guy kneeling in front of a log. His elbows were on top of the log and doubled fists were on his forehead. It seemed he was praying. It also seemed that Jitts was charging toward him. Jitts never approached anyone, male or female. But like I said, especially male. That’s why I was comfortable not having him on a leash.

            “I felt a surge of panic! This was so out of character for Jitts. I chased after him and called. But he kept going. I thought for sure he was gonna lunge with bared teeth. I called and called. The man, who turned out to be Mick, raised his head and looked with surprise at my charging dog.

            “But then Jitts slowed and I could not believe what I saw. His tail was wagging as hard as I had ever seen it. Then Jitts surprised me even further. He prostrated himself at Mick’s feet. Well, actually his knees.

            “So I come running up ready to pull my suddenly vicious dog off of the man. But Jitts was squirming and whining excitedly, his tail thumping on the ground. Mick was grinning and petting him and telling him what a good boy he was. I must have stared for the longest time, unable to comprehend what I was witnessing.”

            “It wasn’t even a minute,” Mick interjected with a chuckle. “But it turned out to be an answer to prayer, I just didn’t know it at the time.”

            “He had been praying for me,” Lindsey said happily.

            “But you didn’t even know her, right?” I asked with a frown.

            “I didn’t, and even after our encounter that day, I didn’t know who I was praying for.”

            “You’re losing me,” I replied with a questioning smile.

            Mick chuckled. “Let me back up. There were four of us in the band called Cornerstone. We all grew up together, went to Christian school together. We were all the real deal. By that I mean devout and serious about our faith. The four of us were tight and made a pact of celibacy until married. So two of us married high school sweethearts the year after we graduated.

            “The week before I met Lindsey, our guitar player, Matt, got married. We were all only in our early twenties, yet I was now the only unmarried one in the band. I wasn’t jealous, yet I really wanted to find a mate more than ever. Being in the position I was, especially as lead singer, I had scores of female admirers. But just like Lindsey had her reasons for being leery of guys, I was leery of gals that were smitten because I was in a popular band.

            “I mean, we weren’t a household name by any stretch. But on the Christian rock scene, we were becoming a pretty big deal. And as our fame spread, it seemed it was going to be harder and harder to meet that special someone, as strange as that may sound. It was ironic since I met countless attractive females at every show. But yet I had it in my head that a woman I met at a Cornerstone show was only interested in Mick the singer, not the person.”

            “But then Mick and I met a second time at his show the next night,” Lindsey laughed. “So he ended up marrying a woman he met at one of his shows after all.”

            “Not fair, we met in the woods, and Jitts introduced us.”

            “True enough, but we did go our separate ways in a matter of minutes, figuring we’d never see each other again.”

            “So out in the woods where you met, how long was your dialogue and what did you say to each other?” I asked.

            “First I said I was sorry about Jitts charging up to him,” Lindsey laughed.

            “Then she asked me if I had been praying and I acknowledged that I had.”

            “Then we just stared at each other for a long time.”

            “It was probably only twenty or thirty seconds,” Mick laughed.

            “It’s hard to tell because it sure felt like several minutes.”

            “But we were both dumbfounded. Me because I had just been praying that God would help me find a soulmate. And she because Jitts rarely took to guys.”

            “Try never,” Lindsey corrected.

            “What about your brother?”

            “He had to win him over after a few encounters. Until you, he never took to a guy right off the bat. Anyway, we started talking about spiritual things. I felt compelled to tell him about my struggles with faith, my rebellion toward God.

            “I remember he shared the verse ‘he that has begun a good work in you will complete it’ (Philippians 1:6). I had such a strange tug of war going on inside of me. I had never been so drawn to a guy in my life! Yet I had so conditioned myself toward asexuality, that this other part of my brain was screaming, get away from him!”

            “And you did,” Mick laughed.

            Lindsey looked at Mick and then back at me. “My girlfriend, God bless her, was trying to assist Jitts in setting me up with Mick. After he and I had been talking for five or ten minutes, she sidled up next to me and said she was going back to our camper and that I should take my time. But I used her interruption as both a sign and an excuse to get away from the hot guy.”

            “She meant temperature by hot,” Mick said. “It was about ninety degrees and humid.”

            “I wasn’t talking temperature at all,” she responded with a coy smile. “He looked good with no shirt. But on the other hand, I was a little put off that he didn’t put his shirt on as we talked.”

            “But I didn’t have one with me,” Mick defended. “It was back at my campsite.”

            “I may have gotten away from him as fast as I could,” Lindsey continued. “But I could not get him out of my mind. Who was he? I didn’t even get his name. Where did he live? What was it about him that drew Jitts to him? How could that even be?

            “As I took a shower back at the camper, I almost fell down kicking myself in the behind. What was I thinking blowing off the closest thing to a perfect man I ever had encountered! I dried off and went looking for him, got super sweaty in the process, which negated the shower I had taken. But it was to no avail, I didn’t see him. I was so disappointed.”

            “I too was disappointed,” Mick added. “I had literally just prayed that God would put the woman of HIS choice into my life. Then this happy dog nudges me out of my reverence. I says to the dog, ‘well hi fella, but you’re not what I had in mind when I was praying.’ Then I look up and see Lindsey running toward us, calling Jitts. Then I said to him, ‘but she just might be!’

            “But then after several minutes talking with her, she bolted like she was just called to put out a fire. I kept an eye out for her the rest of the day, but to no avail. I was so disappointed to be teased like that. I tried not to have a complaining attitude, but I prayed again, simply asking, ‘Lord why put that intriguing woman in front of me, only to have her walk away?’

            “After praying I grabbed my Bible. I like to randomly open it and see what my eyes hit on first that I had previously underlined. That night my eyes landed on Psalm 27:14. ‘Wait on the Lord; be of good courage, and He shall strengthen your heart. Wait, I say, on the Lord!’

BLACK SABBATH – CHAPTER 24

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

BLACK SABBATH

CHAPTER 24

SEVEN SALLIE

GOD IS OUR REFUGE AND STRENGTH, A VERY PRESENT HELP IN TROUBLE. THEREFORE WE WILL NOT FEAR THOUGH THE EARTH BE REMOVED. (Psalm 46:1, 2)

            The sunset was bizarrely beautiful. I’d never seen anything like it. It was both breath taking, yet ominous. Who would have thought a sunset could pose such a contradiction in our minds. It was like a living object lesson of Psalm 85:10. ‘Mercy and truth have met together. Righteousness and peace have met together.’

            Brilliant reds, greens, yellows, pinks, blues, and violets swirled together. Have you ever noticed how fast a colorful sunset can change into darkness? Well this sunset changed and morphed colors five times faster than usual. Yet darkness came five times slower than usual. And the color schemes just kept changing and moving.

             The fourth plague fell the previous day. Unrepentant humanity was scorched with great heat (Revelation 16:8, 9). Yet those of us who had the seal of God were protected. It was as if we were encased in an unseen bubble. The cells of God’s people scattered throughout the world experienced the same protection. Our friends and family back in Eastern Iowa were experiencing a similar shield that we were. I was so grateful to hear my daughter’s voice as she related this information to me.

            We had all had a restless night as the judgements of God continued to fall. Not that we feared for ourselves, for we loved Jesus (John 14:15) and had kept the commandments of God and the faith of Jesus (Revelation 14:12). We were concerned for the unprotected. We mourned for friends and loved ones that sided with the commandments of men rather than the commandments of God.

            We took courage that the plagues indicated that the second coming of Jesus Christ was very, very soon.  The most stunning sunset our eyes had ever seen made us think of our Lord coming in the clouds of heaven. Not in some secret rapture.  

            John the Revelator tells us in the very first chapter, verse seven, that every eye will see Him. Paul tells us in 1 Thessalonians 4:16 that the Lord Himself will descend with a shout, with the voice of an arch angel, and with the trumpet of God. In Acts chapter one, when Jesus arose to heaven, verse eleven tells us that He would come in like manner.

            1 Thessalonians 4:18 tells us we should comfort one another regarding the second coming of Christ. Revelation 21:4 assures us that God would wipe away every tear and that there would be no more death, sorrow, or crying. There would be no more pain, for the former things will have passed away.

            Inga, C.S., who was formerly known as Jackson, Zella and I were sitting on C. S.‘s deck. We were comforting each other about the second coming of Christ as we watched the unique sunset. We were all excited, yet troubled by the falling of the plagues. So we were exercising the Bible instruction to exhort one another daily (Hebrews 3:13).

            It must have worked. C.S. got a boyish grin on his face as he took hold of Inga’s hand. “Come see, a quarter mile through the woods is a large pond. It wasn’t affected by the third plague. Sunsets are amazing there. This one will be absolutely phenomenal.”

            But Inga resisted and frowned. “This is the most interesting sunset I’ve ever seen; but I don’t like what it represents.”

            C. S. frowned back. “What do you mean?”

            “The reason the sunset is so unique is because the fourth plague has fallen. That means  fallen humanity has been scorched with great heat.”

            “Don’t think about that,” he petitioned. “There’s nothing we can do about it now. God is a righteous judge. Think of it as Christ’s imminent return being incredibly soon.”

            “C. S. is right, Inga,” I added. “The loud cry of the three angels messages was sufficiently broadcast. Everyone had their chance to accept or reject the God of Creation.”

            Inga pondered this for a minute. A girlish grin grew onto her face as she did so, and then they were off, walking hand in hand toward the woods. Zella smiled sentimentally as she watched them while I watched her. Her beautiful ebony skin glowed in the fast changing but slowly fading sunlight. “I think love has been rekindled.”

            “Were they in love the first time?” I asked.

            “There must have been something.”

            “Yeah, but Inga despised him for almost a decade. What we’re witnessing is new, fresh.”

            “No, I say there was something. Circumstances all those years ago just caused Inga to take a step back on her feelings.”

            “More like a leap.”

            “Life’s a strange trip,” she said with a shrug.

            I put arm around her and kissed her mouth. Aunt Holly and Benny were at the neighbors, so we were alone. I kissed her again and she giggled. “No wonder you talked Inga into going with C. S.”

            “I don’t know that I talked her into it,” I grinned. “But I was hoping for some alone time with the most beautiful woman on the planet.”

            “Aw, you’re sweet,” she said aiming a big eyed smile my way. I arose and moved to sit on her lap. She stopped me by placing both hands on my back side. “I don’t think so!”

            “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

            “Sit back down,” she ordered. Then she arose and moved to sit on my lap. Unlike her, I allowed it. To my immense pleasure, she kissed me and I mean deeply. I wrapped my arms around her and planned on much more of the same. But it wasn’t to be.

            Inga and C. S. had entered the woods that surrounded the acreage via a trail to the southwest. From the northeast side of the woods we heard the crunch of leaves, the snap of a twig and the murmur of voices. Half a dozen people began to emerge from the woods and Zella sprang from my lap as though it were on fire… Drat!

            The little band was led by Benny and his two friends, a boy and a girl. Holly was with the children’s parents. The couple appeared to be close to Zella and myself in age. They made their way to the deck and Holly introduced us to Mick and Lindsey Wadena.

            Mick was medium height, burly and had thinning blonde hair. Lindsey had short strawberry blond hair. She reminded me of Mary Poppins, but it was probably the old fashioned dress she was wearing.

             “Wow, you’re Seven Sallie,” Mick declared.

            I opened my mouth to reply, but Zella beat me to it. With an exaggeratedly deep voice she said, “Yes indeed, it is he, the venerable Seven Sallie.”

            They all laughed and I looked at my wife. She giggled. “You always look like Daffy Duck when you’re exasperated.”

            They all laughed again, and I couldn’t help chuckling along with them. Then something happened that I didn’t know how to take. Mick was commenting on the strange sunset, but I was  overhearing Lindsey discreetly whisper to Holly, “I thought you said he looks like George Clooney.”

            “I just meant sort of,” Holly whispered back.

            Was this a compliment or a dis? Oh well, I wasn’t even meant to hear it.

            “So you know Arlo Aldo?” I asked Mick.

            “I do indeed,” he replied. “Eli Alderson also.”

            Eli was Arlo’s bandmate. They were both in a Satanic band for many years, and then after their conversion they started a Christian band. Mick rehashed what C. S. had already told me about Arlo vacationing up here and teaching them about the Biblical Sabbath. Then he went on to explain about him and C. S. sharing their information with others in their neck of the woods.

            “As a matter of fact,” Mick was saying. “I think it would be a great comfort if you talked to some friends of ours, Jack and Jill Hill. They…”

            “Jack and Jill Hill?” I asked. “Hill is really their last name? As in Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pale of water?”

            “Yeah, it really is,” he laughed. “Sorry, I guess I’m just used to it after all these years. They have an interesting love story. They became close friends as kids, preteens actually. Jack went by Johnny back then. But then when he and Jill started hanging out, his friends and siblings started calling him Jack to go with her Jill. His dad was John Senior, but went by Jack, so I guess it was a bit of a combination.

            “Anyway, Jill moved away, and they didn’t see each other again for several years. Then Jill showed up at one of his shows a thousand miles from where they first got to know each other. I actually witnessed their reunion. Our bands were touring together at the time. It was a pretty special, memorable moment.”

            “Your own coming together with Lindsey was pretty special too,” Aunt Holly said.

            “Yeah, I suppose it was,” Mick replied, looking fondly at his wife.

            Lindsey seemed like a pretty serious, no nonsense type of person. But she grinned and told us. “Would you believe a dog played cupid?”

            It took me a couple seconds to absorb a dog playing match maker in a romance. However, it wasn’t something I was foreign to. Zella had a rescue dog, a chocolate Labrador named Free. She had been horribly abused. She was blind in one eye and walked with a limp, among other things.

            Free disliked and was afraid of male human beings. The bigger and more macho, the more her disdain. Then one day a big, tall, muscular man with a deep voice came into Zella’s herb and health food shop. Free was in the store that day because Zella’s living quarters upstairs was being painted.

            Although she had warned Billy Bob Booker to keep his distance from Free, the gentle bear of a man couldn’t resist the wounded animal. To Zella’s utter shock, Free couldn’t resist him either. After she witnessed her dog offer up her belly to be scratched by the big man, she had to tell her best friend Willa what happened. In turn, Willa couldn’t resist wanting to get to know Billy Bob herself.

            I looked at my wife. Her stunned expression turned to one of curiosity. “You two were match made by a dog?”

            “Yeah,” they both said at the same time, and  then chuckled.

            “Please tell us about it,” Zella petitioned eagerly. She sat back in her chair, crossed her arms, and anticipated their story.

BLACK SABBATH – CHAPTER 21

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

BLACK SABBATH

CHAPTER 21

SEVEN SALLIE

OH, THE DEPTH OF THE RICHES BOTH OF THE WISDOM AND KNOWLEDGE OF GOD! HOW UNSEARCHABLE ARE HIS JUDGEMENTS AND HIS WAYS PAST FINDING OUT! (Romans 11:33)

            “Seven watch where you’re going!” my wife bellowed just as I veered our Subaru Outback back onto the dirt road after putting the passenger side wheels a couple feet onto the grassy shoulders.

            Inga had just stunned us by informing Zella and me that she had become pregnant as a fifteen year old girl. The impregnator happened to be the guy we were looking for in northern Minnesota. In my surprise I had glanced over my right shoulder at Inga, who was sitting in the back seat.

            This inadvertently caused my hand on the steering wheel to move along with my head. Or as my cousin Brock once called it after I got us into some trouble as teenagers, that lump  attached to my neck. His assessment may have proven correct, because my words caused my wife’s lovely dark brown eyes to produce daggers and her lovely lips to purse as if biting a lemon.

            “Did you abort?” I had asked.

            “Seven, that was crass,” Zella scolded. Then her countenance turned compassionate as she aimed it at Inga. “You don’t have to answer that.”

            “No, it’s okay,” Inga replied quietly and looked out of her window for a few seconds before admitting. “I kept him but then lost him.”

            “You mean you miscarried?” Zella gently asked.

            “No,” her voice croaked. “Jackson sort of became my boyfriend. We supposedly tried to be careful when it came to, you know, intimacy. But, well, I still ended up with a bun in the oven. He took me to some relative of his, I think it was a relative anyway. I never did understand what she was to him, an aunt, a cousin, I don’t know.”

            Inga shook her head and gazed thoughtfully out of the window again.

            “You don’t have to recount your situation, Sweety,” my wife told her.

            Yes she does, I selfishly thought. I want to know what happened.

            “No, I want you guys to know what happened. I want you to know what Jackson was like, even though I don’t understand him myself. Let me say this though. If Jackson Bronx has avoided the plagues, that is the biggest surprise to me of anyone. By far! I believe he got me pregnant on purpose. He… He…”

            Inga put her face in her hands and began sobbing. She spoke into her hands and her words, though muffled, were clear enough. “I don’t want to see him. I don’t understand why we were sent here. What do I say to this man I despise, even if he did somehow repent. He must have. He had to have. How else…”

            Inga paused. “Repent from what?” I asked.

            My wife’s leg twitched and I perceived that she wanted to kick me. “Seven, give her space. Did you forget to take your Genius Juice this morning?”

            “No, I took it.”

            “Could have fooled me.”

            “Sorry, Inga,” I said.

            “It’s okay,” Inga replied meekly. My heart ached for her. I was used to seeing her bold and feisty. It hurt seeing her so broken. But then her feistiness came back with a punch as she angrily declared, “Jackson groomed our baby for a satanic sacrifice.”

            “What!” Zella and I said at the same time. Then I only added to my wife’s ire by adding, “And you let him?”

            “No, I did not let him!” she barked heatedly. Then her demeanor shifted to solemn and she spoke with a monotone voice. “Benjamin wasn’t even a month old. Jackson and that witchy woman came and took him out of my arms as I was nursing him. They had two goons with them. Jackson, just as cold as could be, said ‘it is time for us to make our offering to the master.’

            “I was dumbfounded and demanded to know what he was talking about. Just as pleased as punch, that witchy woman, everyone called her Jezzy, explained about the satanic ritual. I went historical, but the two goons grabbed me. One of them put something over my face. It was a rag with chloroform or something.

            “The next thing I knew, I woke up in some woods behind this big mansion type house where I had my baby. Why they didn’t kill me I don’t know. But I got outta there with only the clothes on my back and hitchhiked back to town. That was a nightmare in itself. I don’t want to go into that right now though.

            “But when I finally get to the cop shop, the police acted like I was just a crazy lunatic. I guess I can’t blame them. And I guess that’s why the goons didn’t kill me. They knew the police wouldn’t believe me. But the police did let me use their phone to call my sister. And that was the beginning of us becoming homeless vagabonds.”

            “Wow, no wonder you’re not looking forward to facing Jackson,” I said.

            “Ya think,” Inga snapped. “Sorry. It’s just that I don’t have a clue how I am supposed to behave. I mean, am I really supposed to forgive the man that killed my baby. He was even the father of the child. I can’t fathom how that depth of evil avoided the plagues thus far.”

            “I don’t know what to tell you, Honey,” Zella said. “The only thing I can say is Jesus asked for forgiveness for those who tortured and killed Him.” (Luke 23:34)

            “Yeah,” Inga said meekly as she folded her hands in her lap, chewed her lip and gazed out of her window.

            A couple minutes later, GPS announced we were there. We already knew that as all six of our eyes were trained on a log cabin type house. It looked like something from a century or two ago. It had a small eight by ten foot porch with two rocking chairs.

            “Seven, why don’t you go knock on the door?” Zella petitioned.

            Why me! My mind shouted, yet I forced my actions to nobility. “Okay.”

            I tried three times, but no one came and I heard nothing inside. The cabin was on a bit of a hill, and the back side was twice as big as the front. There was a large deck supported by ten foot tall four by fours. About fifteen stairs jutted to the side of the structure.

            I heard low voices coming from the deck. With heart pounding I placed my foot on the first step, then the second step, then from my voice box came a greeting, “Hello?”

            The talking stopped and a twenty something year old man appeared at the top of the stairs. Thankfully he returned my greeting, albeit cautiously. “Hello.”

            He had sandy blonde hair and blue eyes looked at me through wire rimmed glasses. My first thought was that this couldn’t be Jackson. Inga described him with black hair and dark eyes. There were four deck chairs. Three were empty, but one was occupied by an older woman who appeared to be in her seventies.

            The sandy haired man held a Bible in his hand. With a friendly, but careful tone he asked, “Can I help you?”

            “I’m looking for a fella by the name of Jackson Bronx,” I told him.

            He looked stunned and took a step back. “May I ask why and who you are?”

            I chuckled nervously. “Well, it’s complicated, and might sound farfetched.”

            “Try me,” he said almost as a challenge and with narrowed eyes.

            “My name is Seven Sallie, I…”

            “Thee Seven Sallie?” the older lady broke in with an air of excitement as she arose and stood by the sandy haired man. “The legendary broadcaster?”

            With a little bit of a bow and a hand on my chest, I replied, “Yes ma’am, it is I.”

            My mind’s ear heard my lovely wife say, ‘Give me break.’ It was definitive enough that I even turned to see if she was behind me. She wasn’t. I also wondered if I should explain to this nice lady that my little head bow and hand to the chest was spontaneous, and that my mock humility sprang from praise actually making me uncomfortable.

            This wasn’t always the case with me. When I was a secular broadcaster with a syndicated show on hundreds of radio stations, I was full of myself. But after my Christian conversion, I began mocking my old self. I occasionally joked that I was a legend in my own time. Then my wife would finish my statement by declaring that I was a legend in my own mind. This usually garnered a laugh from the company we kept.

            The converted me enjoyed the tranquility of not taking myself so seriously. The born again me (John 3:3-7), the new creation I became (2 Corinthians 5:17), enjoyed true peace giving God the glory rather than myself.

            “Okay,” the sandy haired man said matter of fact, clearly not as impressed with me as his older companion.  “Nice to meet you, Mr. Sallie. But why are you here then?”

            “I’m with a young woman named Inga Likas. She…”

            “Inga Likas!” he interrupted with wide eyes. He definitely was more interested in Inga rather than the venerable Seven Sallie.

            “Yes, also known as Inga…”

            “Cognito,” he interrupted again.

            “Right, so apparently you know her.”

            “Of course I do.”

            “Okay, great,” I replied, frowning as I wrapped my mind around this second guy. “So do you know where Jackson Bronx is?”

            “You’re looking at him.”

            I looked to my right and to my left. Inga described Jackson as having black hair and dark  eyes. This guy in front of me had sandy blonde hair and blue eyes. “I’m afraid I don’t understand. Inga described you as having black hair and brown eyes.”

            “When I knew her, I dyed my hair and wore colored contacts,” he said quickly, then grabbed my forearm and asked excitedly, “Is she here?”

            I looked at his hand on my arm and he pulled it away. “Sorry.”

            “No problem,” I replied. “Yeah, she’s around front.”

            He went down the deck stairs two at a time and I followed. Inga and Zella were slowly roaming around the front yard. Their heads swiveling as they took in the woods that surrounded about an acre of lawn. Inga froze as Jackson approached her.

            “Inga!” he said with open arms as if to hug her.

            She took a couple quick steps back and ordered, “Stay away from me.”

            He put up his hands in a surrender gesture.

            The front door opened and an eight or nine year-old boy ran to Jackson. “Papa, Aunt Holly said Inga was here.”

            My eyes went from the boy to Inga. I never saw a more stunned face in my life. Her jaw hung open, as did my wife’s. Then my gaze returned to the boy, and I took in his wide, expressive arctic blue eyes, Inga’s eyes, as they trained on her. Then my jaw dropped when I heard him ask Inga, “Are you my mom?”

BLACK SABBATH – CHAPTER 20

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

BLACK SABBATH

CHAPTER 20

INGA LIKAS (AKA INGA COGNITO)

SUBMIT TO GOD. RESIST THE DEVIL AND HE WILL FLEE FROM YOU. DRAW NEAR TO GOD AND HE WILL DRAW NEAR TO YOU. CLEANSE YOUR HANDS YOU SINNERS, AND PURIFY YOUR HEARTS YOU DOUBLE MINDED (James 4:7, 8)

            It was like being in a real live science fiction movie! The second and third plagues had fallen, and the seas and waters became blood. (Revelation 16:3, 4) Lake Superior was dark red and foamy on its banks. The smell of it along with the dead fish was gagging me. The thought of paying a visit to Jackson Bronx was making me nauseous with anxiety. I’m surprised I didn’t throw up.

            But I kept remembering Bible verses about confidence in God. Like there is no fear in love. Perfect love casts out fear. (1 John 4:18) Be still and know that I am God. (Psalm 46:10) God will keep you in perfect peace when it stays on Him. (Isaiah 26:3) For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind. (2 Timothy 1:7)

            I was with Seven and Zella LaStella-Sallie.  We were riding in their dark green Subaru Outback. I was in the back seat with Seven driving and Zella riding shotgun. My two close friends were also a comfort provided by God.

            Our trip up to the north shore of Minnesota was another element like out of a science fiction movie. For one thing, it was as if we were teleported. It seemed like we were barely on the road, and we were driving through Duluth. It should have taken us about five hours to get there, but it seemed like only minutes. The city was desolate. Like the COVID lock down times ten. The few people we did encounter eyed us skeptically.

            But just as the angel assured us, we would be protected from any angry people or mobs that blamed Sabbath keepers for the plagues. The angel also had programmed Jackson Bronx’s address into the GPS. It turned out to be a cabin several miles off of highway 61. Very remote.

            I should have felt creeped out as we got closer. Jackson Bronx was a strange, sinister boy who was almost two years older than me. He was seventeen the last time I saw him. After I tell you what happened the last time I saw him, you’ll understand why I felt anxious as his cabin came into view. But the Word of God gave me courage to go forward.

            Not quite a decade previous, he had crept into my room at midnight. I awoke to a hand over my mouth and a knife blade’s tip an inch from my eye. A full moon’s light shone in through the window and  his dark eyes glazed crazily into mine. Yet his bizarre actions supposedly came as a warning rather than a threat.

            “Uncle Bronx thinks you’re pretty bright blue eyes are magical,” he had whispered. “He intends to make you his wife…. Do you want me to gouge them out? Ouch! Why’d you bite my hand?”

            I wanted to say, ‘what do think you, idiot?’ But that wouldn’t be wise to ask that of an evil person while they held a knife to your face. So I said, “I have allergies. I can’t breathe through my nose.”

            My heart felt like it was going to pound out of my chest as I prepared to be slashed. But he sat back on his haunches and spoke patiently as he lifted his hand toward the window and the moon’s light to check it over. “I can’t believe you bit me.”

            “I can’t believe you snuck into my room and threatened me!” I replied but then realized I shouldn’t have been surprised. There was a reason I kept my distance from him as much as possible.

            “I didn’t sneak into your room to threaten you. I came into your room to warn you. Maybe you should lock your door.”

            “There are no locks on the doors,” I told him. Then I almost called this place what it was, a cult. But I didn’t know just how close Jackson was to the cult leader, his Uncle Bryson. So I said, “At this compound.”

            “Put a chair under the doorknob,” he said, pointing at a chair under a desk.

            “It has wheels.”

            “Well, get creative then. Hang bells on the door or something.”

            “That still won’t keep creeps like you out,” I blurted, and instantly tensed. I guess diarrhea of the mouth began early for me. I wonder when it started for Seven?

            But he didn’t seem to mind. He shrugged and said, “But it would warn you when a creep like me comes in.”

            “Do you think you’re a creep?” I asked mildly. Then I tensed again. Why did my mouth tend to speak before the rational part of my brain gave it permission to?

            “No, but you apparently do.”

            “Can you blame me? You’re always wearing black with dark satanic imagery.”

            His eyes suddenly looked crazed in the moonlight, and he pointed his index fingers up from his forehead like devil horns. Then he gave a ghoulish grin. No, more like a silly grin. He waggled his tongue and went, “Aaaaah.”

            I don’t know why, but this made me want to laugh, but I held it in. So then it came out as a burst when I couldn’t hold it any more. It was along the lines of not supposed to laugh making something seem funnier.

            “I like you, Inga,” he said softly and ran a finger gently against my cheek.

            I was stunned. I’d never seen Jackson be anything but dark and brooding. It took me off guard, first by him acting silly and now acting sweet. The truth is, I always thought he was cute. But the evil persona he took on turned me off. So instead of saying I liked him too, I asked, “Why are you into devil stuff.”

            “I’m not,” he shrugged.

            “Yeah? Could have fooled me. Actually you’re not fooling me. You don’t just accidently wear inverted crosses and pentagrams, listen to death metal music, sneak into girls rooms at midnight, and put knives to their face.”

            “In my defense, you’re the only girl I’ve ever snuck in on and done that.”

            “Well, how special for me,” I mocked, tilting my head. Then I frowned. He had in fact just awakened me with a knife practically in my eye, yet I wasn’t afraid anymore. But never trust a devil, they will be charming one second and diabolical the next.

            “Like I said, I came to warn you, not harm you.”

            “So why the knife to the face?
            “I didn’t want you to freak out.”

            “Didn’t want me to freak out! You’ve got to be kidding!”

            He shook his head and waved his hands. “I wanted to make sure you kept silent. If I would have simply shaken you awake, you might have screamed.”

            “No might have about it,” I admitted.

            We gazed at each other in the moonlight for several long seconds. Then he said, “Well, you’ve been warned. I better go.”

            Strangely, I didn’t want him to go. He had been sitting on the side of my bed and arose. I had been sitting up in my bed at that point and grabbed his hand. “Let’s talk some more.”

            “Ouch,” he responded, pulling his hand away from mine. But then he sat back down on the side of my bed. “I still can’t believe you bit me.”

            “Sorry,” I said and then frowned. Why was I apologizing? He’s the one that snuck into my room, put a knife to my face and hand over my mouth. My reaction was just instinctive, self-protective.

            “I ought to bite you,” he said with a coy smile.

            He suddenly pulled me to himself and nibbled on my neck. It tickled, so I giggled, but I pushed away from him. Then he grabbed me by the shoulders, yanked me back toward him, and kissed me. The weird thing was, I kissed him back even as I halfheartedly tried to push away.

            It’s strange how the mind works. This duel nature in us humans. There’s part of the mind that draws us to wrong things, also known as sin. Then there’s this other part of the mind that tells us to do what is right, also known as the conscience. It is here, I believe, where we either cooperate or ignore the working of the Holy Spirit. Even back then, when I wasn’t a follower of Jesus, I felt this struggle within me.

            I think the Apostle Paul explains this struggle very well in Romans chapter seven. But that evening with Jackson kissing me in my bed at midnight, with me wearing nothing but a little nightgown, a garment that was really only a big t-shirt? For that I will boil Romans chapter seven down to verses 23-25.

            ‘I see another law in my members, warring against the law of my mind, and bringing me into captivity to the law of sin which is in my members. Oh wretched person that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death? I thank God through Jesus Christ our Lord! So then with the mind I myself serve the law of God. But with the flesh, the law of sin.’

            But I knew very little about Jesus or the Bible back then. So the law of the flesh was ruling over the law of my mind as Jackson kissed me. Something inside me said, no this isn’t right, get away. Where did that instinct come from? Yet another part of me said, this feels good, put your arm around his neck. So I did, and carnal passion smothered out good sense and reason.

            But there were a couple moments of conscience and reason fighting for air. After several minutes of kissing like they do in France, Jackson lifted my night gown. I yanked it back down. “No!”

            “I like your feistiness,” he said with a laugh, trying again with me rejecting again.

            Then this typically brooding, scowling young man, not only smiled, but laughed. This disarmed me even further. But then he began to arm me back up by saying. “Uncle Bryson wants you as a virgin bride as soon as you turn sixteen. We can eliminate half of the equation of virgin bride right now.”

            Fear erased the passion I was feeling, and I rolled away from him. “No! You better leave right now!”

            “Okay, suit yourself, Inga,” he said mildly. He actually got up and walked to the door as if to leave. But he stopped, turned, and said, “I must say, it hurts that you would rather have a guy almost old enough to be your grandfather rather than me. But, like I said, suit yourself.”

            “Like I have choice? If he finds I’m not a virgin, he will likely kill me.”

            “Not if I tell him you’re my girlfriend.”

            “Do that and he’ll kill you too.”

            Jackson snorted. “Oh, lovely Inga, you know so little. Uncle Bryson acts like he’s superman, but my brothers and me are his kryptonite.”

            He didn’t explain why he and his brothers were like kryptonite, that I found out later. But I was an infatuated teenage girl and foremost on my mind was, ‘he called me lovely!’ Me, a gangly girl making her way out of puberty. Did he also say girlfriend? That had a ring of permanence.

            But Jackson was dark, sinister and not to be trusted. However, that night he was sweet and charming. Can leopard a change his spots? No, but maybe I could change him. How many millions of women got into a mess thinking that?                                                                                      I hopped out of my bed and went to him. “You really want me to be your girlfriend?”

            “I do,” he said gently, caressing my cheek with his finger again. Like the foolish girl I was, I whimpered and we started kissing again.

            Back to the current situation. I heard Zella say, “You’re awfully quiet, Inga. Penny for your thoughts.”

            “Huh?” I replied, a little rattled. My little trip down memory lane was getting more bumpy by the mile, or I guess I should say minute.

            “You seemed to be deep in thought,” she added.

            “Yeah, I guess so,” I said and then paused, considering my very dear friends in the front seat. ‘Confess your trespasses to one to another’ came to mind. (James 5:16) “You know how I told you I ran away from that cult in California when I was sixteen.”

            “Sure I do.”

            “What I left out was that I was pregnant… By Jackson Bronx.”

BLACK SABBATH – CHAPTER 18

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

BLACK SABBATH

CHAPTER 18

INGA LIKAS (AKA INGA COGNITO)

IT SHALL COME TO PASS IN THE LAST DAYS, SAYS GOD, THAT I WILL POUR OUT MY SPIRIT UPON ALL FLESH; YOUR SONS AND YOUR DAUGHTERS SHALL PROPHECY, YOUR YOUNG MEN SHALL SEE VISIONS, YOUR OLD MEN SHALL DREAM DREAMS (Acts 2:17)

            I couldn’t believe I didn’t see this one coming. Sevenia Sallie, Seven’s daughter, asked  “Do you know why my Dad’s twin brother Six is afraid of him?”

            “He is?” I frowned, recalling the two sibling’s warm embrace after Six’s arrival put the head count at the Storm’s farmhouse up to seventy.

            She tucked a strand from her shoulder length auburn hair behind her ear. Her almond -shaped green eyes looked earnest as she said, “Yeah, it’s because Seven ate nine.”

            I still didn’t get that she was joking for a few seconds. My frowned deepened. Was she talking about cousins? Because I knew that Sebastion ‘Seven’ Sallie was the youngest of seven children, and that Six and Seven were their actual middle names.

            Sevenia started giggling. I secretly fancied myself as a sharp cookie. How could I have been so dull? I once heard Seven express something a bit similar. ‘The funny thing about humility is the second you think you have, you lost it.’ I had told him this must be a regular occurrence for you.

            I think the funniest jokes are the ones that baffle me at first. So I burst out laughing after I said. “Oh, ate, not eight.”

            As I wiped a happy tear from my eye and relished the good endorphins just released in my brain, Sevenia was smiling sweetly at me. There was nothing malicious in her joke. Sevenia was right up there with the kindest, most Godly people I had ever met. There was not a mean bone in her body.

            “Thanks for that,” I said. “Nothing like a good laugh.”

            “Thank you,” Sevenia replied as she patted me on the knee. “For all you have taught me.”

            I tilted my head inquisitively. All that I taught her? She and I were roughly the same age. But I looked to her as a mentor. Her knowledge of scripture was unequaled. And I mean with not only with someone like her father, but she was right up there with Pastor Kirk Samson. He was the patriarch of Cotton Creek Cove Fellowship. He was more widely known to his parishioners as Captain Kirk, due to his decade as an Army Chaplin.

            “Actually it’s the other way around,” I smiled, giving her hand that had come to rest on my knee an affectionate squeeze.

            She shook her head. “Nobody has calmed, encouraged and exhorted like you have since the first plague fell. You’re one of the main reasons the children are behaving, well, like contented children.”

            “It’s God, not me.”

            “Right, but He’s working through you. And your humble attitude is what makes it possible.”

            “You know what your dad says about humility?”

            “I do,” she giggled, then asked. “So do you think you are humble?”

            “That’s a loaded question if ever there was one,” I laughed.

            “Haven’t you noticed that Francine practically follows you around like your shadow?”

            I smiled at the thought of Franny. She was a very shy fifteen year old who opened up to me about being bullied. Adolescence had not been kind to her. She was gangly and had pretty severe acne. So I showed her pictures of me when I was fifteen. Puberty was hostile to me as well. She and I had something else in common, unique eyes. Whereas mine were very light blue to the point of almost glowing, her eyes were violet. A color rarely seen in windows to the soul.

            “I honestly don’t mind,” I told Sevenia. “Her meekness quells my potential for being obnoxious. Especially around your dad.”

            She laughed, then rolled her eyes. “He loves exchanging good natured barbs with you. I know he looks at you like a daughter.”

            Sentiment swelled in my heart. “I guess that makes you and me sisters.”

            “We already were,” she smiled, indicating our sisterhood in Christ. Our hands were still joined, and she gave mine an affectionate squeeze. I reciprocated, and then our eyes turned to the door as a knock emanated from the old oak wood.

            Like I said, we were now seventy strong at the Storm residence. Their renovated farmhouse was very large, sporting eight bedrooms. It also had makeshift sleeping quarters in the basement, attic and living room. All these people seeking refuge here made it seem rather small, yet somehow cozy.

            I shared a room with Sevenia, Nancy Aldo, and the aforementioned Francine, who we called Franny. Sevenia’s husband Jerry was rooming with his brother Drew, who was married to Nancy. They also had to put up with Sevenia’s dad, Seven Sallie. Of course I jest by saying ‘put up with’… Well, maybe. Seven’s twin brother Six made it a foursome like our own room.

            So we assumed the knock at the door was one of our roommates. If the door was shut, we knocked in case one of the married roommates was having some private time with their husband, if you know what I mean. But low and behold, we were surprised to see the knock had come from Pastor Samson, AKA Captain Kirk.

            “Pastor, come in,” Sevenia invited.

            “Thank you, my Dear,” Captain Kirk replied as he shuffled in. The man of God was now in his nineties, and although typically spry for his age, he did have moments of appearing frail. He admitted such by joking about the oldest person recorded in the Bible. “Today I feel like Methuselah.”

            We laughed and then Sevenia asked, “To what do we owe the pleasure, Pastor?”

            With Pastor Samson’s long white beard and his reputation for impeccable character, he always reminded me of the Prophet Moses. He ambled toward a desk chair, pointed at it, and with raised eyebrows asked, “May I?”

            “Of course, of course,” Sevenia enthused.

            Captain Kirk groaned a little as he sat. The wood floor squeaked as he did so and with a chuckled he asked, “Was that my bones creaking?”

            Sevenia and I laughed again, then he asked, “How are you ladies holding up?”

            Sevenia and I glanced at each other, then looked at the Pastor and replied at the same time with the same response. “Good.”

            “Good.”

            “How about you?” I asked.

            “Fair to middling,” he replied.

            With the first of the seven last plagues falling, world chaos had ensued. So both Sevenia and I assumed the Pastor was just making rounds to check on the welfare of his flock. But he surprised us.

            “I had a vivid dream about you two as I was taking an afternoon nap today.”

            “Do tell,” I blurted. Then I wondered if it came across as flippant. I opened my mouth to utter an apology, but the Pastor spoke first.

            “I absolutely love your childlike faith, my Dear,” he told me with a chuckle. Then he became serious. “But I do not mean you are childish. Jesus admonished us to become like little children with their simple faith and humility.” (Matthew 18:1-5)

            He looked away and scratched his head. “Sure has been a long time since I was a little child though. Anyway, I had a dream about you two, but I’m not sure how to explain it.”

            “A dream or a nightmare?” I blurted again. You would think I was the daughter of Seven Sallie. But Sevenia did call us sisters.

            Captain Kirk chuckled. “Well, a dream if you follow God’s lead, or a nightmare if you don’t. But I have a good feeling about you two. Plus, it happened this afternoon, so it wouldn’t have been a nightmare in the truest sense.”

            “So what happened Pastor?” Sevenia asked.

            “Well, it was more like an instructive situation rather than anything specific happening.”

            “What do you mean?” Sevenia asked.

            “Can you two keep a secret?”

            “Wasn’t it Ben Frankin who said three people can keep a secret if two are dead,” my mouth spurted yet again. I instantly regretted it, especially given the Pastor’s age and frailty.

            But he chuckled. “It’s not that crucial of a secret. Several people already know about it. It’s just the fewer that know the better. I don’t want people thinking I’m off my rocker.”

            I stopped myself from a foot in my mouth statement, if I hadn’t already placed it there and simply asked, “Know what?”

            “I think I know,” Sevenia said. “Did you have an angelic encounter?”

            “Yes, my Dear, I did.”

            “And you’ve experienced that before?” I asked.

            “It’s complicated,” Captain Kirk replied with a frown as he began stroking his long white beard. “On a few occasions over the last twenty years, I’ve been given a message or instructions from an angel of the Lord. Whether these are actual encounters, dreams, or visions, I don’t know. What happened in my dream this afternoon was very, very real. But also very short. But the message was clear.”

            Despite his age, Pastor Samson gazed at us with the intensity of an NFL linebacker eyeing a quarterback. At the same time, Sevenia and I both said, “What is it?”

            “I don’t know.”

            Sevenia and I gazed at him dumbfounded. Then she said, “But you said the message was clear.”

            He shook his head. “No, no, we got off the same page. Let me clarify. I don’t know what your message is. My message was clear. It was to tell you two that you will be receiving a message yourselves. The purpose of me as a go between was twofold. It was so you weren’t surprised by the encounter and so you have faith in its legitimacy.”

            I felt a spike of positive adrenaline. “Are you saying Sevenia and I are going to have an angelic encounter?”

            “Either that or you will be given a vision. You both have been considered highly favored.”

            “When?” my spiritual sister and I asked at the same time.

            “Go to the two hundred year old oak tree behind the big barn at sunset. Keep this to yourselves. And may God richly bless you.”

BLACK SABBATH – CHAPTER 17

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

BLACK SABBATH

CHAPTER 17

LOUIS LEWIS

NO EVIL SHALL BEFALL YOU, NOR ANY PLAGUE COME NEAR YOUR DWELLING. FOR HE SHALL GIVE HIS ANGELS CHARGE OVER YOU, TO KEEP YOU IN ALL YOUR WAYS. (Psalm 91:10, 11)

            Destiny and Brock Storm’s remote acreage proved to be a refuge for many who were seeking shelter from the chaos of the plagues. They were showing up miraculously, claiming that they were brought by somebody in the know, that they did not know. More than once I witnessed them look around in bewilderment, exclaiming, ‘Where did they go?’

            The very first such person was Tim Grant. He was a distinguished looking man in his seventies. He had aged well and was in great shape for someone in the category of geriatric. I had taken a liking to him, notwithstanding thinking he might have a screw loose at first, due to his supernatural encounter. This only proved I still struggled with skepticism, despite miraculously escaping the first plague myself. But my faith was strengthening by the hour.

            Tim had a gentle manner with an easy smile, despite the bedlam happening in the world. He had been in search of Anna Clayton. When the first plague causing loathsome sores began to infect the majority of the population, he had become concerned about his onetime friend. I hadn’t known initially that they had been more than just friends. It turned out, he hadn’t known he had a daughter by her.

            And that’s why Anna’s husband had been irate when Tim had shown up on their doorstep an hour before standing on the Storm’s doorstep. That’s why after the affair he had moved away and had kept his distance for more than eight years. That’s why after the adulterous liaison he had sought repentance with tears.

            But after the plague fell, he needed to be sure Anna was okay. When Brad, his former neighbor opened the door, he hadn’t expected him to be glad to see him. What he hadn’t expected was to see the grotesque, puss oozing sores on Brad’s face. He had liked and respected Brad when they had lived next to each other. He had always thought of him as a Godly man, so he was sure that he would have been safe from the plagues. He wasn’t so sure about Anna.

            Despite Brad’s current attitude, he had graciously forgiven them both not quite a decade earlier after a guilty conscience had forced a confession from Anna. But then she had begun calling Tim again only a few months after their fling. Tim had patiently, kindly ordered her to stop trying to contact him. Yet a half dozen more times she had sent him texts pleading that she needed to see him.

            As painful as it was, he had ignored them. He didn’t know that she simply wanted to tell him the not so simple news that he was going to be a father. He didn’t know that Brad had actually insisted that Tim had a right to know. He didn’t know that Anna felt like it was news to be delivered in person. He didn’t know that Brad planned to accompany her in the possible meeting.

            As our numbers increased, the Storm’s large farm house began to feel like a bed and breakfast. Then it was like a college dormitory as we were doubled and tripled in our rooms. The children were sacking out on the living room floor. Despite uncertainty in the world, God blessed the kids for their simple faith and allowed them to treat our current living like a slumber party.

            I was sitting on my bed reading my Bible when Tim walked in. He and I had been paired up in my room. He had a look of awe and wonderment on his face. He and I had become fast friends, so he used a shortened version of my name as he addressed me. Sitting on his own bed he said, “I can hardly believe it, Lou. I have a daughter.”

            I didn’t know what he was talking about, and I said as much. “What do you mean?”

            “Anna, she just informed me that that little angel Brianna is the fruit of my loins.”

            I frowned. Maybe it was our age difference, for Tim had a good quarter century on me, but I found his term describing his parentage to Brianna odd. Yet I knew exactly what he meant, and I was stunned. Oh I knew Anna had confessed to infidelity, and that Brianna wasn’t her husband’s biological daughter. What caught me unexpectedly was it turning out to be this humble, pious man who was old enough to be Anna’s father as well as Brianna’s.

            “This is good news then?” I asked.

            He looked at me with a bewildered expression. “I don’t know. That one amazing night with Anna left me with years of guilt.”

            He began to whimper, then cry, then sob to the point his whole body shook. “How can such beauty come from ashes?”

            I suddenly knew why God had paired him and me together. I shared a common bond with him, a secret not even a half dozen people knew. A secret that left such a huge scar of shame on my soul I fought to keep the words inside that felt compelled to come out.

            Why, oh why did I feel this urge to confess to my brand new brother in Christ? This man I barely knew who was my complete opposite. He was soft spoken and gentle, compared to my history of gruff and abrupt. He was well to do, and I had mostly lived paycheck to paycheck. He drove a new Volvo, and I drove a car I bought at a police auction. Yet I felt a kinship with the man I couldn’t explain. Maybe we would even end up with our arms around each other singing ‘Ebony and Ivory.’

            “I know how you feel,” I heard myself say. “I too have a daughter out of wedlock.”

            His gaze was intense as we locked eyes. We didn’t know each well enough then for him to be surprised. But his countenance expressed, ‘You mean I’m not alone? Someone knows what it means to claim to follow God and fail big time?’

            As reluctant as I had been, it felt good to get this off my chest with someone. Someone who would not only understand but benefit as if we had our own little support group. But then he asked a question that caused my thinking to do a one-eighty. “Are you two close?”

            I looked away from his penetrating blue eyes. “No, she’s mostly wanted nothing to do with me.”

            “I see,” he said blankly.

            “But our situations are different, even though they’re similar,” I said, and then frowned at the contradictory statement. “It was a complicated time in my life. But when hasn’t there been a complicated time in my life.”

            “In the world we will have tribulation,” Tim said reassuringly.

            “But be of good cheer, I have overcome the world,” I finished. (John 16:33)

            We aimed forced smiles at each other. Then we sat in awkward silence for minute. Then he told me about him and Anna. How he fell in love with her after the initial harsh grief of his wife’s passing. He told of the afternoon they had innocently talked for an hour or two over a bottle of wine and things spontaneously turned romantic.

            I gently rebuked him. “Tim, there’s nothing innocent in sharing a bottle of wine with a married woman, especially when mutual attraction is present.”

            “Fair enough,” he nodded. “But in my defense, I thought the attraction was one sided.”

            “Did you? When you broke open the bottle of wine, what was your motive?”

            He considered me for a moment, sighed. “I wanted to loosen us up to see if the chemistry I felt was one sided or not. But I truly thought we would have only a glass maybe two, not the whole bottle.”

            “The human heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked,” I said.

            “Who can know it,” he finished. (Jeremiah 17:9) Then he added with a forced chuckle, “Well, thanks for putting me in my place, Brother.”

            I chuckled myself and said, “How about I share my own wicked and deceitful heart?”

            “Please do,” he grinned.

            I sighed. “You infiltrated Anna’s marriage; I betrayed my own vows. You seduced with wine, I with power and rank.”

            “You mean like David with Bathsheba?” he interjected.

            “Well, David was a king, while I was merely a police sergeant at the time. But now that you mention it, there was one similarity. The department gave us officers memberships to a gym. The first time I saw Ronda, she was in a hot tub wearing next to mothing. I asked a buddy who she was, and he said she her name was Ronda Jameson, and she had recently been hired on after working as a part time deputy for the Sherriff’s Department.

            “As you know, David summoned Bathsheba to his palace. Obviously I didn’t do that. But a couple days after seeing Ronda, I was put in charge of a vice sting operation. I was asked to ask two female officers if they were interested in working undercover as prostitutes. Ronda was the first one I summoned. She was beyond excited at the opportunity and very grateful.

            “What I’ve told you so far makes it sound like I had nefarious intentions. But that wasn’t the case. I never, ever intended on an affair with Ronda. I never ever thought I would cheat on my wife. But back then I did live by the worldly philosophy, I’m married not buried. It’s okay to look but not touch. However, do you know what Jesus taught regarding this idea?”

            “I certainly do,” Tim replied. “If you look upon a woman with lust you have already committed adultery in your heart.” (Matthew 5:28)

            “Exactly! When I not only saw but studied Ronda in that hot tub, I began the process of adultery. My buddy even pointed out the fact that I was staring. But you know how guys can be. Without the shame I should have felt, I simply told him that I was honing my investigative skills.”

            Tim chuckled politely and asked, “So what was the straw that broke the camel’s back?”

            “It came about very complicated, yet simple if that makes sense.”

            “It doesn’t,” he laughed.

            “Ronda had an abrasive personality. She didn’t have many friends, and she didn’t care to make friends. But she took a liking to me. I think it was because I chose her for that special assignment when she was very much still a rookie.

            “Even though I found her attractive, I never, ever thought I would act on it. But figuring it was one sided, I didn’t think I had anything to worry about. Sure, I was one of the few people she allowed into her small circle of friends, but romance? She knew I was married, and although I was in good shape back then, I never won any beauty contests. And she was a knock out.

            “Plus there was another factor. Being one of the few people in her small circle of friends, I was also one of the few people that knew she was in a relationship with a woman. So add it all up and what do you get? A recipe that makes nothing, right?”

            “It would seem so,” Tim replied. Then he arched an eyebrow. “So what happened?”

            “Like you and Anna, we were having adult beverages together after work.”

            Tim shook his head. “Think of all the problems alcohol causes.”

            “Well Tim,” I said with a little smirk. “I can’t speak for you, but nobody was forcing it down my gullet. My brain kept instructing my hand to put the glass to my lips.”

            “Fair point.”

            “So we were at a favorite cop hang out,” I continued. “I normally never had more than one drink. But Ronda was picking my brain about my first years on the force. So I’m telling war stories and we’re downing beers. She’s leaning on her fist, listening intently, and smiling like I’m the most fascinating man on the planet.

            “We both lived twenty plus miles from the police station. It had also started snowing and there was a blizzard warning. In between the bar we were at and the police station, there was a Holiday Inn Express. All was within reasonable walking distance. Due to the weather and likely having to work overtime with the winter storm, I already had a room booked.”

            “Let me guess,” Tim interjected. “A winter storm led to a perfect storm for infidelity?”

            “You got it,” I replied and then sighed. “Between both of us having too much to drink and drive coupled with the storm, I invited her to my room. I suppose trying to come off as a gentleman, I told her there were two beds. But, yada, yada, yada, we ended up only using one.

            “But unlike you and Anna, ours wasn’t a one off after coming to our senses. We saw each other a half dozen more times over the next couple months. Then at one of our rendezvous’, instead of having sex, she very cooly informed me that she was pregnant and the affair was over. She threatened to make the affair public if I wanted to be part of the child’s life.

            “It was truly a nightmare and the most complicated predicament I had ever been in. Seemingly overnight she and I went from being lovers to enemies. I was worried for my job, worried for my marriage, and worried for my reputation. My wife was unable to have children so it also hurt to have a child I couldn’t acknowledge.

            “Ronda kept her word. I kept my distance, and she never divulged that I was the father. She stuck around until she had the baby, then when her maternity leave was over, she quit the force and worked for an insurance company or some such.

            “She was a complicated woman that I never did figure out. To this day I don’t know how genuine her feelings were for me. If she was acting during our fling, she deserves an Oscar. She just flipped a switch overnight and I became a leech in her eyes. I suspect she just used me as a sperm donor and once she was pregnant, my usefulness had expired.

            “Long story short, I confessed my infidelity to my wife. To my utter surprise she tearfully forgave me. But the tears were not due only to my betrayal. To my utter shock, she confessed of infidelity herself.”

            “Why did that shock you?”

            “My wife was and is very religious.”

            “I’ve come to realize that doesn’t mean much,” Tim said with a sigh. “I’ve always been quite religious myself.”

            I nodded solemnly and continued. “By the time our daughter was a preteen, Ronda and her partner had broken up. Our daughter was having behavior problems, and she finally wanted me to be part of her life. But talk about fire and ice. ‘Lou, meet your daughter. Now discipline her.’

            “So, my relationship with my daughter has been volatile and on again off again. And as I sit here with you today, I am sick inside wondering if Aliyah is covered in loathsome soars or not. She has had moments of being open spiritually. But even more moments of ‘don’t preach to me, Lou’. She never got around to calling me Dad.”

            “How old would she be now?” Tim asked.

            “She just turned nineteen.”

            Tim and I continued to chat when the greatest miracle of my life happened. There was a knock at our door. It was Inga. “Hey Double Lou, there’s a young lady here to see you. It’s yet another case of apparently being led here by an angel.”

            And there she was! Aliyah! And she had no soars!

            I was so relieved, so thankful that she was here and okay that I couldn’t stop the tears. Then I wept for joy after she ran to me with open arms and said, “Daddy!”

BLACK SABBATH – CHAPTER 16

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

BLACK SABBATH

CHAPTER 16

ZELLA LaSTELLA-SALLIE

IF WE CONFESS OUR SINS, HE IS FAITHFUL AND JUST TO FORGIVE US OUR SINS AND TO CLEANSE US FROM ALL UNRIGHTEOUSNESS (1 John 1:9)

            The first of the seven last plagues was beginning to fall. I had butterflies in my stomach as my husband, my cousin, and Destiny’s husband were making their way back to the relatively safe haven of the Storm’s remote acreage. There had been a dozen of us in the Storm’s living room watching my husband, Seven Sallie, debate religious freedom with Congressman Redburn. It was during their dialogue that we began to notice sores rapidly develop on most of the faces in the courtroom.

            As our minds spun, and we offered up prayers, there had been a knock at the door. It was Anna Clayton and her eight year old daughter, Brianna. We invited them in, and our body count went from twelve to fourteen. Right behind Anna was her friend Debbie Smallmon and her eight year old daughter, Saddie. Fourteen now became sixteen.

            They too had escaped the first plague and exhibited no sores. However, one of Debbie’s eyes was swollen shut. Both women wore denim skirts, and there was a huge tear in Debbie’s black pantyhose, a large enough tear to reveal coagulated blood.

            I had only met Debbie and her daughter once. Anna had brought them to church at the beginning of the loud cry. But as with Anna’s husband, Debbie’s husband was adamant about Sunday reverence and the conjoining laws. So she was one and done with our fellowship. Until now.

            It was clear that Anna and Debbie were very close friends. I had known that Anna had led Debbie to Christ four years ago. Then over the last year, both had accepted the Sabbath truth together. Although best of friends, the two couldn’t have appeared to be more opposite. Yet they shared a common bond with the aftermath of sexual sin. We would come to find out that both of their husbands held this over them after they differed on Sunday verses Sabbath.

            Anna was forty-nine, tall and gangly, her light brown hair usually in a ponytail. Her gray eyes looked out of wire rim glasses, giving her a bookworm appearance. Debbie on the other hand was thirty years old. She was blond, blue eyed and had a slightly stocky, athletic build. I guessed she had been either a cheerleader or gymnast. It turned out she had been both.

            The two women and their daughters were barely in the door when I spotted my cousin’s dark blue Crown Vic come racing up the driveway. I stepped out on the porch and witnessed Seven come out of the back door before the vehicle stopped. He did an unintentional summer sault on the Storm’s lawn.

            Patience wasn’t one of my husband’s virtues. Yet he ultimately exhibited the patience of the saints in spiritual matters. (Revelation 14:12). One virtue he did have was being positive and light hearted in the midst of stress and trial. This would prove true, even during the chaos of the seven last plagues.  

            He quickly hopped up and pranced toward me with open arms. In a voice like a British monarch, he declared, “I have returned to you, my love, safe from the coming wrath.”

            He picked me up in an embrace and spun me around once, causing me to giggle. For a few seconds the world wasn’t in turmoil. Then Seven himself almost had person turmoil after he said, “Ooh, either you’ve put on a few pounds, or I’ve gotten weaker.”

            “I assure you it’s the latter,” I said shoving him away.

            “Seven, you are so blessed to have Zella for a wife,” Destiny said. “Most women would have given you the boot by now.”

            “Don’t I know it,” he said shaking his head. “Even at our wedding I had to pull my foot out of my mouth to say, ‘I do.’ And just for the record, it is the latter, I have gotten weaker, for my bride is more lovely now than the day I married her.”

            Everyone laughed, enjoying the small window of levity in the midst of world chaos. Then after a minute we sobered and entered a group prayer session. When our thanksgivings and petitions to God our Father were complete, we rose from our knees. Then Destiny and I retired to a guest room with the two women who had shown up at her doorstep. Billy Bob Booker and his wife, Willa, along with their two children, entertained the two eight year old girls.

            “Debbie,” Destiny said gently as she stepped toward the young woman with a bottle of peroxide in one hand and bandages in the other. “May I ask how you were injured?”

            With chin lifted, she stoically answered, “My husband hit me, and I stumbled over a kitchen chair. I dropped the glass I was holding in the process. It broke, and a shard cut my leg.”

            As Destiny played nurse maid on the wounded leg, Debbie shared part of her testimony. “I met Anna four years ago at a playground when our kids began playing together. I suspected by the way Anna was dressed that she was a born again Christian. She reminded me of a preachy aunt of mine. One of those people that act all high and mighty. So I recoiled at first when she struck up a conversation.”

            “She actually thought I was Brainna’s grandmother,” Anna said chuckling.

            “I did,” Debbie admitted with a giggle. “I actually asked her how old her granddaughter was. I was so embarrassed when she goes, um, she’s my daughter. But God arranged the meeting, and she blew me away with her openness to a complete stranger. I was at the lowest point of my life, longing to die, but knowing I had to hang in there for Saddie.”

            She gazed affectionately at Anna. Her eyes welled with tears. I assume from feeling emotional, but it also could have been the peroxide bubbling on the gash on her leg.

            “So I told her that, ‘no, Brianna’s my daughter,’” Anna explained. “She apologized profusely, and I reassured her by saying, ‘no big deal, it was defiantly a late in life pregnancy, and that I had twenty-five and twenty-three year old sons.’”

            “So I said, ‘wow talk about a surprise pregnancy,’” Debbie added.

            “For some reason I felt compelled to confess my transgression to Debbie,” Anna said. Destiny and I perked up as if antennas were on our heads. What is it with human nature and our tendency to be nosy? But we still didn’t know the details from when Anna let it slip that her husband wasn’t the father of Brianna.

            At the time she dismissed it by saying, ‘it’s a long story,’ and we didn’t pry. What made it so curious was Anna didn’t seem like the adulterous type at all. She was like a wholesome Amish mom morphed into a librarian. But only God knows the secrets of the heart. (Psalm 44:21)

            “I told her that my husband had a vasectomy after our second son was born,” Anna said and then laughed. “Can you imagine? A few minutes after meeting someone, I tell them my husband had a vasectomy. Then I admitted to giving into temptation and getting pregnant by a man who wasn’t my husband. So I told her I wasn’t surprised by the pregnancy. Horrified! But not surprised.”

            Debbie and Anna glanced at each other, and then Anna bowed her head as Debbie patted her leg. Destiny and I glanced at each other, and it was as if we could read each other’s mind. We both wanted to shout, ‘Who? Why? How?’

            Anna looked up and thankfully explained. “My husband and I became quite close with our neighbors, Jill and Tim. We lived next door to them for almost twenty years. My husband and Tim weren’t overly close, typical neighbors I guess. Visit by the fence, borrow tools, help move a couch, you know. But Jill and I became best friends. Their boys were about the same age as ours, and eventually she began attending our church as well.

            “She ended up getting breast cancer, fought it and won, and then got it again and lost. She was only forty-eight. I was devastated, and naturally Tim was too. Ironically, we bonded in our grief, and our mutual love for Jill. We began walking our dogs together every day. Helped each other with our gardens. Often I would fix him lunch. You see he was older than Jill, in his sixties and retired.

            “So the first year of Jill’s passing, as we bonded, I developed a crush on Tim. I tried to push it aside, but as we got to know each other I grew to love him. I had an empty nest at that point, both boys were in college. My marriage had grown cold. Brad spent more time at his country club than he did with me. Then not long after the first anniversary of Jill’s passing, Tim began dating a woman, a widow.

            “I was surprised by how jealous I felt. He started skipping out on dog walks. He rarely came over to help with the garden. He completely stopped having lunch with me in favor of dining with the widow. This all happened over four or five months. I slowly got over him, but on his birthday I made him a cherry pie. I knew from my long time friendship with Jill that this was one of his favorite treats.

            “He seemed pretty glum. I asked him if he had the birthday blues. That’s when he said he had ended things with Roxy. Her name gagged me in my throat. She looked like a Roxy. Piles of white, blonde hair, over size chest. Happily, an oversized midriff to go with it.

            “I asked why, and that’s when we entered the danger zone. He brought out cheese and a bottle of wine to go with the cherry pie as he told me that she just wasn’t in the category of Jill… Or me.

            “I wasn’t a prohibitionist, but I rarely drank. But his not so subtle admission of feelings for me had me rattled and I took a glass. Then another and another. He and I had never expressed feelings for each other beyond a chaste hug. But with the wine lubricating our minds like toxic oil we expressed fondness, longings and then desire. Our pie and cheese was hardly touched, but we drained every drop from that bottle of wine. The next thing I knew we were kissing, then we were in his bedroom… I guess I don’t need to give any more details. I’ll just conclude by saying Brianna was conceived.”

            Anna looked at Debbie with a pensive face despite a forced grin, “Next.”

            Debbie chuckled and asked, “Do I have to?”

            “Yes,” Destiny said, then smiled and put a hand on her knee. “I’m teasing, Sweety. You don’t have to say anything.”

            “No, you gals feel like friends already,” she replied, a little choked up. “I need to get some things off my chest. Like why don’t I have sores, but my husband does? Despite what happened, he’s been a better person than me.”

            “I guess we don’t know your husband,” Destiny said. “But we do know he hit you.”

            “He’s not like that though,” she pleaded. “It’s all this, this chaos making things nuts.”

            “Just tell them you testimony, Deb,” Anna suggested, patting her knee like Destiny had just done.

            “But it’s so shameful,” she whined.

            “It’s okay, Zella was a nude model, and Destiny was a porn star,” Anna explained, then frowned. “Sorry, girls.”

            Destiny chuckled. “It’s okay, it’s not a secret. As a matter of fact, I have a ministry that specializes in helping women get out of the sex industry.”

            This seemed to free Debbie of her inhibitions about sharing her past. “So toward the end of my junior year of college I got pregnant. My boyfriend was a senior about to graduate and go into the Air Force as an officer. The pregnancy was definitely not intended, but my boyfriend accused me of trying to trap him.

            “I admit that it had been my hope that he would ask me to marry him. I even would have postponed or even skipped entirely my last year of college. Instead he proved to be anything but an officer and a gentleman. He threw some cash at me to get an abortion and dumped me like yesterday’s trash. We had been together for almost all of my college career, so it wasn’t like a brief relationship.

            “As much as I hated to, I went down to Planned Parenthood to get an abortion. Believe it or not, the same aunt that Anna initially reminded me of was there with her church group picketing. So I turned tail and fled. I also felt it was a sign, and I ended up not getting an abortion, having Saddie. Thank God I did! She’s been my world despite the difficulties. I shutter when I think back to how I almost extinguished her before she had a chance to exist.

            “So with the college year at an end, I worked full time at the grocery store I had worked part time at and quickly became an assistant manager. It wasn’t long after having my baby girl that I realized being a single mother put a damper on one’s social life. I was also bitter, and not all that interested in a relationship.

            “I was angry, rebellious, yet lacking self-esteem. I was also longing for intimacy despite not wanting a relationship. A girl I worked with turned me onto a hook up site on the internet. I was hesitant at first, but I felt like it was a way to get back at my ex. What a ridiculous notion in hindsight, but I guess I needed an excuse to behave badly.

            “So, with my sister willing to baby sit while I supposedly had a girls night out, I hooked up with a guy I met on line for the first time. Forgive me, but the illicit encounter was thrilling. It became like a drug, and I began doing it on a regular basis.

            “Another excuse was it was hardly any time away from Saddie. I used a variety of baby sitters. My mom, my sister, friends. And it only took a couple hours, and I was back with my daughter, and the baby sitter was not overly burdened. Meet online, meet for a drink, go back to their place. Sometimes dinner if they were somewhat classy. Yeah right, classy guys hooking up with broken, lonely women.”

            She did a finger in her mouth to insinuate gagging.

            “But I can’t blame them, not one of them forced me to connect with them on line or go back to their place with them after we met. But I began a cycle of hook ups, self-loathing, stop for a while, get bored, start hooking up again.”

            She shook her head and continued. “So the day before I met Anna, my gynecologist informed me that I had herpes. Self-loathing hit a new low. I truly would have committed suicide if I didn’t have Saddie. The weird thing is, I know my former boyfriend was gonna end things after he graduated regardless of whether I was pregnant. So I still could have ended up in that cycle of promiscuity. But without Saddie, what would have stopped me from suicide? So in an odd way, I saved my own life by saving hers.”

            “I didn’t know what to do at this rock bottom point in my life. So I just started this mantra. ‘God, if you’re out there, please help me, I don’t know how to go on.’ I must have said that a hundred times over the next twenty-four hours. Then low and behold I meet Anna at the playground and we, I don’t know, just ended up clicking. God answered my half-conscious  prayers by putting Anna in my path.”

            She croaked out that last sentence and began to weep. Destiny and I both put a hand on her back, and Anna knelt in front of her and took both hands in hers. Debbie laughed through her tears. “Now that’s what I call the laying on of hands.”

            “So how did you meet your husband?” I asked.

            “I met Grant on a Christian dating site,” Debbie explained. “It was kind of strange after all of the internet hook ups. This time when I met a guy, the most we would do is share a chaste kiss rather than go to bed. Another strange element is it took a couple dozen dates before I met Grant. I was about to throw in the towel. Not a lot of guys want a woman with a kid, that has a history of promiscuity, a behavior that gave ultimately gave her a permanent STD.”

            There was a knock at the bedroom door. Destiny opened it and Seven came in.

            “Hey ladies,” he said, giving everyone of us a glance. “Quite a party ya got going on here. Say, there’s a guy that showed up down stairs. Brock’s been sort of interrogating him. He doesn’t have any sores and seems like a decent enough guy. But he claims to know Anna and he desperately wants to talk to her.”

            “Who is it?” Anna asked hesitantly.

            Seven frowned. “He said your husband threatened to kill him.”

            “Did you get his name?” Anna asked impatiently.

            “Not his last, just his first,” Seven replied. Then he put his hands on his hips. “What were you gals discussing?”

            “Seven!” I said incredulously. How is it some people can be so talented and brilliant, and yet occasionally come off as completely dense. “What’s his first name?”

            “Oh right. He said his name is Tim, and he’s concerned for you and your daughter’s safety.”

BLACK SABBATH – CHAPTER 15

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

BLACK SABBATH

CHAPTER 15

ZELLA LaSTELLA-SALLIE

BUT YOU, DANIEL, SHUT UP THE WORDS, AND SEAL THE BOOK UNTIL THE TIME OF THE END; MANY SHALL RUN TOO AND FRO, AND KNOWLEDGE SHALL INCREASE. (Daniel 12:4)

            There were about a dozen of us watching Seven’s program in stunned silence. It was a live podcast feed from the congressional hearing featuring my husband and Congressman Redburn. Brock Storm was operating the camera from his seat twenty feet away. Whether or not he was recording in secret I didn’t know—God knows.

            The stunned silence in the Storm’s home wasn’t because of the dialogue between Seven and the Congressman. Our eyes were riveted to the TV screen due to the chaos in the courtroom. What was causing the pandemonium was apparently the beginning of the seven last plagues.

            As Brock operated the video camera, he had been rotating back and forth between which of the two men on display were speaking. He had just zeroed in on Mr. Redburn when the Congressman’s face began to discolor. He truly seemed to be living up to his last name.

            His complexion suddenly transformed from a pale alabaster to something like a bad sunburn. Then in a matter of seconds his skin transformed again when his face seemingly broke out into a case of severe acne. That’s when we noticed murmuring and shrieks. Brock rotated the camera around the courtroom and virtually everyone in the room had the same thing happening to them.

            Then the video screen took in both Congressman Redburn and Seven. The appearance of pimples on the Congressman had now turned into boil like sores, oozing puss. Yet my husband was not affected! His light complexion was as smooth as could be. That is for a man over forty with a five o’clock shadow. He seemed to be staring at the camera with a stunned expression. But it was actually Brock he gazed at as he nodded an acknowledgement of some type of communication between the two.

            Next the camera swirled and jiggled as Brock, my husband, and my cousin, Louis Lewis, quickly exited the courtroom.  We caught glimpses of people screaming and clutching their faces. Then the camera bobbed up and down as the trio ran out into the street. The picture on the large TV screen gyrated so much it started to give me motion sickness.

            Yet I couldn’t take my eyes from the scene on the screen. Then the picture stopped vibrating and stilled. Out on the street Brock had stopped and allowed the viewers to take in the commotion outside even the courtroom. Scores of people were clawing the loathsome sores on their faces. Thankfully there were some unaffected as they looked around, amazed at the turmoil.

            For about two seconds my cousin’s face appeared on the screen as he made his way past Brock. Thankfully his ebony complexion was unaffected by the plague. But his brown eyes were super wide and intense as he said, “Come on, Brock!”

            Then Brock whirled and captured the sight of my slightly overweight cousin scrambling down the sidewalk. Between Louie’s wide eyes and the sight of a middle aged man in dress shoes high step running as fast as he could, it caused several of us to snicker, despite the gravity of the situation.

            That view only lasted a few seconds as well before we heard a grunt and the picture on the screen briefly giggled. The camera spun around and captured my husband, the venerable Seven Sallie, sitting on the sidewalk with his arms behind him propping himself up. His gray-green eyes were as wide as Louie’s. “Why’d you stop, Brock?”

            “I was taking in the scene around us, just like you apparently were, as you weren’t watching where you were going.”

            With surprising agility for a middle aged man, Seven leapt up and sprinted away as he said, “Come on, let’s get outta here.”

            The picture began to giggle again as Brock pursued his two companions. My husband, an avid runner, passed my chunky cousin. It reminded me of John chapter twenty when John out ran Peter to Christ’s tomb. But leave it to my husband, he flung open the back door of a dark blue Chevy Malibu and dove in.

            Three cars away, Louie opened the door of his dark blue Crown Vic, but he then froze as he gazed toward the car Seven dove into. “Seven, over here.”

            “I’ll get him,” Brock’s voice said as the camera caught his muscular forearm opening the door to the Chevy Malibu. “Seven, you’re in the wrong car.”

            “Shoot!” he said as he scrambled out. Suddenly my husband’s eyes filled the entire screen for a couple seconds as he said, “Is that camera on?”

            “Yeah, this is a historical moment.”

            “What, by sticking it in my face as I get out of the wrong car?”

            “I’m just trying to help you out.”

            “Well turn that camera off or we’ll have to call this ‘The Three Stooges Escape the Plagues.’”

            Next we see Louis Lewis fumbling with his keys, starting his car, and then a view out of the windshield as they shot out of a parking lot. They had to make their way cautiously down the city streets. Cars were pulled over left and right, and people were running around in a panic.

            “Can you believe what we are witnessing?” Seven said.

            “That’s why I’m filming,” Brock replied, as he turned the camera back on Seven as my husband leaned on the front seats from the back. Seven’s eyes as well as his nose filled the screen this time.

            His eyebrows too as he frowned. “Will you stop sticking that thing in my face?”

            The camera rotated to Louie. My cousin glanced at it, then did a double take. “Well, don’t be pointing it at my ugly mug.”

            As we watched the trio escaping the city via the live feed, Destiny turned her pretty face toward me. She was chewing nervously on her lip but then chuckled. “I’m kind of glad they’re reluctantly playing ‘The Three Stooges.’ It’s sort of relieving how freaked out I feel.”

            “Me too,” I said as we both gave each other’s hand a reassuring squeeze.

            A knock at the door made us jump. Destiny clutched my hand tighter, so together we cautiously made our way to her front door. She peeked through a window and sighed with relief. Glancing at me, she said, “It’s Anna Clayton and her daughter, Brianna. They have no sores, but they both look terrified.”

            Dee opened the door and with her typical warm smile, in spite the turmoil. “Anna, Brianna, please come in.”

            Anna Clayton had learned about the true Sabbath during the loud cry. The loud cry came on the heels of the national Sunday law, in conjunction with the out pouring of the Holy Spirit, which was the Latter Rain.

            I knew the Sabbath issue had become a divisive sticking point between Anna and her husband. After fellowshipping with us a couple of times, she and her eight year old daughter Brianna stopped coming. Her reason was for the sake of her marriage. Her husband was in adamant favor of the Sunday laws.

            However, a few weeks earlier, when Sunday worship became mandatory, she showed up at our fellowship with a tear steaked face. She informed us that when the rubber met the road, she couldn’t deny her convictions. She clearly saw the Seventh Day Sabbath as the seal of God, and the mandatory worship on Sunday as the mark of the beast. It now had seemed to have driven a wedge between her and her husband. Her husband refused to let their daughter come with her.

            We didn’t know much about Anna those few weeks ago when she took her ultimate stand of faith. She was a plain Jane, meek and kind of timid. Her shoulder length hair was somewhere between dirty blond and light brown. In the limited time I had been around her, it had always been corralled in either a ponytail or hair clip. She wore glasses, but no makeup, and no jewelry other than a wedding band. Her gray eyes were close set, her nose small and her lips thin. Her smile, although rare, was lovely and made endearing by slightly crooked canine teeth.

            “I didn’t know what to do other than to come back to your church,” she had told Destiny and me after we led her into the pastor’s study for some privacy. “Brad refused to let Briana come with me.”

            “First of all, lets pray,” Destiny said, and then led us in a heartfelt prayer petitioning God’s help with Anna’s family situation as she courageously took a stand for her convictions.

            “There’s something else I should share,” Anna added. “Our two sons take their dad’s side in this controversy.”

            “Oh?” Destiny replied with raised eyebrows, looking as surprised as I felt. “I assumed Brianna was an only child.”

            Anna shook her head vigorously. “Brad and I have a twenty nine year old son and a twenty seven year old son.”

            I frowned. “I see, but I thought you had told us before that you were married the summer before Brianna was born?”

            She shook her head again. “We renewed our vows the summer before Brianna was born. We actually got married two weeks after we graduated from high school. Bradely Junior was born late the following spring.”

            “Oh, so you two have been married thirty years then?” I asked.

            She nodded. Then she bit her lower lip nervously. “I feel I should share something else with you as well. It’s actually making my situation with Brad much more complicated than just our differing views on the Sabbath.”

            She paused and looked at her lap. She wore a blue and white house dress, and she twisted her fingers nervously in the folds between her legs. The church she had belonged to was very conservative and the women always wore skirts or dresses.

            She looked up at us and a tear leaked from her eye. “I feel like I’m betraying Brad with what I’m about to share.”

            She paused for a very long time, but Destiny and I sat quietly and gave her space. Anna surprised us by suddenly snorting a laugh. “Well, you two sure aren’t the nosy, gossipy type. So at least I can trust you to keep it to yourself.”

            She paused and looked at her lap again. Especially given the little compliment she had given Destiny and me, I had to stop myself from saying, ‘Keep what to ourselves?’

            “Brad isn’t Briana’s father,” she finally and quietly admitted.

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.”