Broken Identity (34 page)

Andrew took a deep breath. “But that’s why He died. Don’t let His death for you be in vain. You’re already so close. You’ve read the Bible, you recognize your sin, but you’re pushing salvation away when it’s the only thing that can save you.” Andrew moved over to the couch where Drake sat and chose the cushion on the end, purposefully leaving a space between them. Despite his obvious effort, he noticed Drake stiffen when he sat. Andrew was beginning to feel as if he couldn’t breathe in his own home without being accused of spreading the plague.
God, I’m trying. And I still believe in miracles…hint, hint. You know I’d greatly appreciate the support right now.

The ceiling fan rocked above them, cooling the room but not doing much for their heated argument. “I love you, Drake.” Had he said that out loud? It was meant to be a thought, not spoken audibly. He looked at Drake. Drake was staring back at him, just as startled to hear those words as he was.

“Drake…” Andrew began. He had to say something now after those words. But what?
Just speak from your heart. Honesty may be painful, but its motive is always love.
He cleared his throat and listened for the Holy Spirit to help him begin. “It hurts me to hear us fight, but I love you enough to tell you the truth. If you die without Jesus, you
will
go to hell. I know you don’t feel worthy of Heaven, but neither do I. That’s the whole point. If we could somehow make it to Heaven on our own, what would be the purpose of Jesus’ death? Salvation is just as much for you as it is for me or Ronnie, but until you grasp that for yourself, you’ll always be living life the same way.”

Drake gazed toward the other end of the room. “I’m tired of this merry-go-round conversation of ours. I told you, I have nothing more to say.”

“Then I won’t make you.” Andrew picked up Ronnie’s picture from the table and smiled. The stick man that was supposed to be him had hips cocked sideways, as if frozen in a disco. That must have been caused when the car hit a pothole, since Ronnie had scolded him while they were driving to the hospital.

Drake heard Andrew chuckling to himself and turned his head. “What’s so funny?”

“This,” Andrew said, pointing to the disjointed figure on the picture.

Drake suppressed a laugh. “Looks like a bad case of arthritis.”

Andrew set the picture down and gazed up at him. “Hey, it did my heart good to hear all those things you said to Ronnie in the hospital room earlier.”

So the conversation was changing again. Crank up the merry-goround. “I wasn’t doing it for you.”

“I know. That’s what made it special.”

Drake thought about that. “I don’t know. What he said made me feel different. Made me really feel sorry for all I put him through when he hugged me like that.”

“Ronnie really does love you, Drake.” Andrew chuckled and said, “I just hope you’re prepared to stay up late with him tonight, ’cause he’ll be talking your ears off.”

A smile crept across Drake’s lips. “Yeah, well, I’m kinda looking forward to it.”

“Knock, knock!” Ronnie said for the quadrillionth time.

Drake forced himself to keep from sighing. His eyelids were falling lower over his eyes with every lame joke, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold out. The clock said one thirty. His body told him it was much later, especially when he heard Andrew’s snoring move into its second stage. Lucky him.

“Drake!” Ronnie complained, slapping the side of the couch with the back of his hand. “I said, ‘knock, knock!’”

“Yeah, yeah, I remember. Who’s there?”

“Yul.”

“Yul who?”

“Yul never know!” Ronnie exclaimed, bursting out in laughter.

“Ha, ha,” Drake said, trying his hardest to sound like he was having fun. Even if the jokes were incredibly corny, at least this was better than watching Ronnie play with his crutches—his legs kicking wildly in the air every time he took a running jump. He tucked his pillow under his head and said wearily, “Hey, I’ve got a joke, Ronnie.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Knock, knock.”

“Who’s there?”

“Justin.”

“Justin who?”

“Justin time to go to sleep.”

Ronnie didn’t laugh. “Aw, c’mon, Drake. You don’t really mean it, do ya?”

Drake covered a yawn. “I’m tired, buddy. Maybe we can finish this tomorrow, huh?”

Ronnie heaved a sigh and squirmed into his makeshift sleeping bag. “There’s still a lot left on the list…”

“We can tackle the Amazon jungle some other time.”

Ronnie folded his arms. “Funny.”

“You mean that’s not on your list?”

“Now I’m gonna dream about lizards and tigers tonight. Thanks.”

“Are tigers in the Amazon?”

“How should I know? I’ll tell you what I find after I get done dreaming about ’em,” Ronnie said, flopping over on one side.

Drake stretched his arm across the small end table beside him and flicked the lamp off. Then he turned over on his side and threw the covers over his shoulder. The couch wasn’t too bad to sleep on, except for the barely noticeable way the cushions curved toward the back of the couch. Drake buried his cold feet underneath the mound of covers and peeked at the clock one last time. All was quiet in the house except for the low hum of the AC running along with the refrigerator. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this tired.

Except for the night he had murdered his dad. With all that had happened to him lately, he had somehow managed to push that thought out of his mind. Or so he thought. Now it all came back to him in one long, crashing wave of remembrance. Every little detail, every word spoken, every action taken, every gut-wrenching feeling on the inside of him after he realized what he had done.

And on top of all that, he hadn’t allowed himself to grieve yet over the death of his mom. His whole world seemed to be spiraling faster and faster down a path of destruction, and crying almost didn’t seem worth the effort anymore because he knew it couldn’t change reality. Too bad there wasn’t an eraser for the past. Andrew had mentioned something called forgiveness, but Drake was beyond reach. Beyond hope.

Drake lay on his back and stared at the ceiling. Jesus was probably up there somewhere looking down on him and shaking His head at the accident He had created. That’s how Drake viewed himself. An accident. He had crashed and burned, fallen for the world’s lies hook, line, and sinker. Now Andrew was trying to give him the false hope that there was still a chance for him.
I wish he’d just leave me alone. It hurts enough to know what kind of a person I’ve turned out to be, but for someone to tell me that God still loves me only makes me more angry. I know he’s just trying to be nice, but it’s not helping.

“Drake?” Ronnie said, pushing his covers down so he could see Drake’s face.

“I told you, buddy, no more jokes,” Drake said, burying his face in his pillow.

“This isn’t a joke. I wanted to tell you about a dream I had last night after we took you to the hospital.”

“Was it a long dream, ’cause I ain’t—”

“No, not too long. Maybe I dreamed it ’cause I cried all the way back home and it made my stomach hurt. I dunno.”

“What were you crying for?”

“I thought the doctors might not be able to fix you and you could die. Uncle Andy told me they shot you, and I thought you might die while I was sleeping.”

“Ah, Ronnie, don’t worry about me. You know I’m fine.”

“I know you are now, but I was scared then. Anyway, after I got home, I went straight to bed—after praying for you, of course.”

Of course.

“And then I dreamed a dream. I dunno, but it kinda felt different. Like I was really there. Know what I mean?”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Drake said, watching Ronnie tiredly through one drooping eyelid. “Just get to the dream.”

“The dream. Right. Well…I sorta dreamed about Heaven.”

“Heaven? Well, I guess that’s always a nice thing to dream about, right?”

Ronnie was strangely silent before saying, “Drake…you wasn’t there.”

Now it was Drake’s turn to be quiet. “What do you mean I wasn’t there?” he said slowly.

Ronnie’s eyes were squinted as he said, “Uncle Andy and me was there, but I didn’t see you anywhere. I asked some people around, but they didn’t know either. So I started looking for you. I looked everywhere, and I kept looking for you, but you wasn’t there. Then I felt scared. Drake, if you wasn’t in Heaven, that meant you was in hell.”

Drake couldn’t explain the sudden shakiness that had come over him. “Ronnie, that was just a dream,” he assured him. “A bad dream. You don’t have to be afraid for me.”

“But I
am
afraid, Drake.” Ronnie’s voice had never sounded as grave as it did now. “I have to ask you this, or else I might have that dream again.” Nothing could have prepared Drake for what he heard next. “Drake, are you going to Heaven?”

Drake looked away and drew in his blanket closer to his body. “I dunno, Ronnie. How would I know?”

“I know that I am. And I know Uncle Andy’s gonna be there too, ’cause he believes in Jesus like I do. I just want to make sure you are gonna be there with us. I don’t wanna be up there one day looking for you forever. And I don’t want you to go to hell. I want us to be together in Heaven, not away from each other. If we aren’t, that means we’ll never see each other again. So are you going to Heaven, Drake? Are you?”

“That isn’t up for me to decide.”

“Yes it is. All you have to do is—”

“No, it isn’t!” Drake snapped. “It’s not that easy.”

“So…you don’t know if you’re going to Heaven or not?”

“No, Ronnie, I don’t. I guess I’ll just have to find out when I’m dead, won’t I?” Drake turned and covered his face with his blanket. Gah, he wished religion would leave him alone.

Chapter

20

P
IERCED

Drake Pearson was running. Faster. Faster. His heartbeat pounded like an echoing explosion. It was beating too quickly; he should be dead. His body was on the verge of collapse, and yet he kept running…

A shadow overlapped his. Something was chasing him. Something big. Drake took a left and quickly peered behind him into the thick smoke.

It disappeared.

Drake panted as he pushed his legs to run harder. Sweat clung to his face like icy fingers. It wanted him; its breath on his neck felt like fire. What had happened to the world as he knew it? Everything was colorless—the sky was pitch-black and the world a murky gray. Suddenly, every building, street sign, person, and even the asphalt underneath his feet began to gradually melt and sink into the ground.

And he was sinking.

Drake tried running faster to escape.

Thunder sound waves rippled through the sky. In a flash, the earth ruptured and swallowed him where he stood. Drake fell for only an instant before he smacked the ground. Bones shattered, and yet only a vague perception of pain told him he was dying.

He lifted his dazed head and found he was in a small, empty room. The temperature was cold. Too cold for any human to survive. The goose bumps on his body felt like needles to his flesh. He had to get out of there but was no longer able to move his legs.

Panting deeply, he lay there in terror, studying the room. It too was colorless, except for the words JUDGMENT DAY written on the floor in smeared red.

Blood red.

Drake looked down and studied his body as more cold chills ran up his arms and legs. His body was deteriorating in front of his eyes—flesh taking on the form of liquid and blood concreting to stone. He was dying. Fast.

Without warning, two doors on both sides of him split open. One powerful hand reached through one door and another hand reached for him through the other.

Both hands seized him at once and began pulling him in opposite directions. Drake could feel the blood rising to his head as he tried to fight back, but whatever strength he once had was worthless now.

“Choose this day whom you will serve!” a voice boomed from above.