Apocalypse Burning (48 page)

United States of America
Fort Benning, Georgia
Local Time 1419 Hours

After lunch, when the trial reconvened, Major Trimble declared that the opposing counsel’s case was finished. Benbow had asked to reserve the right to bring Megan back on cross-examination, and Colonel Erickson had granted that.

For the last hour and ten minutes, Benbow had called people forth from his meager witness list. They were soldiers who had served with Private Boyd Fletcher, men who had seen his excessive drinking binges as well as his temper.

But none of them had ever seen him mistreat Gerry.

Megan sat beside Benbow, keeping quiet and hoping she looked sane, not like the raving, plotting, egomaniacal lunatic Trimble had tried to make her out to be. She didn’t think that was working. Several members of the jury kept looking at her as if they expected an alien to jump out of her skin or something.

The idea was so much like something Chris would have suggested that she wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. Neither one of those things, she knew, would be especially good, and both of them together might well have been the kiss of death.

She was also apprehensive about Jenny and her father. The corporal hadn’t had any more information than he’d given them. Only that her father had been involved in some type of traffic accident. Jenny had left immediately, saying she would call as soon as she knew something. More than enough time had passed for her to find something out.

Halfway through yet another repetitive testimony of a soldier who had served with Boyd Fletcher, one of the MPs working security in the courtroom walked up and gave Colonel Erickson a piece of paper.

The colonel read the paper, then motioned to Benbow.

Benbow approached the bench and talked briefly. The judge declared a five-minute recess, and Benbow walked by the table where Megan sat. “Stay here,” the young lieutenant said. “Maybe we caught a break. I’ll be right back.”

Megan waited, fidgeting under the gaze of the jury and the audience.

Just shy of five minutes later, Benbow returned to the courtroom pushing a media cart.

“Lieutenant Benbow?” the colonel asked. “What’s the meaning of this?”

“It’s part of a testimony,” Benbow said. “I’ve got a VHS tape here that I want Mrs. Gander to verify the authenticity of.”

“This is irregular,” the colonel declared.

“Yes, sir,” Benbow said. “Major Trimble seems to have pushed us very deeply into irregular. I’m going to try to bring us back on track. If you’ll permit me.”

“Permit what?” Trimble demanded.

“To show you what happened on that building rooftop the night of March first,” Benbow said.

Trimble turned toward Colonel Erickson. “Sir, this is preposterous.”

“Major, with all due respect,” Benbow said, “you’re the one who accused Mrs. Gander of taking advantage of Gerry Fletcher’s disappearance and setting herself up to play messiah. You opened this line of inquiry during your direct of Mrs. Gander. I’m just following up on it on cross.”

Erickson looked at both men, then leaned back in his chair. “I’ll allow it.”

“Colonel,” Trimble protested.

“Sit down, Major,” Erickson said. “I allowed you your leeway when you pursued your investigation. Lieutenant Benbow is only following in the path you prepared. I’ll allow it.”

Trimble looked fit to be tied.

“And I’ll not expect one more word of protest, Major.”

Trimble sat, but he looked as petulant as a child who hadn’t gotten his way.

Megan felt curious and threatened at the same time.

“Corporal Kirk,” Benbow said. “You’re dismissed.”

The corporal who had been testifying nodded and stepped from the witness box.

“At this time,” Benbow said, handing the media-player cords to the MP standing at the colonel’s side, “I’d like to call Mrs. Gander back to the stand.”

The colonel looked at Megan and nodded.

Megan stood on shaky legs and made her way to the witness box. She wished she knew what Benbow was doing, but she reminded herself that she trusted him. As she sat down, she spotted Penny Gillespie taking a seat at the back of the courtroom.

Penny had been conspicuously absent till now, although she had made her presence known on Dove TV. Snippets from her interview with Megan regarding the Tribulation kept showing up all over television, starting to actually compete with the pieces on Nicolae Carpathia. Megan had no doubt that the Romanian president would find some new way to seize the media spotlight again, though. He seemed to be a magnet for that kind of attention.

Catching Megan’s eye, Penny offered a smile and pressed her palms together in prayer.

Megan took a deep breath, remembering how she had looked when Trimble had her on the stand.

“Mrs. Gander,” Benbow said, “I promise not to have you on the stand for a long time. I know you’ve had a rough morning.”

Megan nodded. No verbal response was necessary.

Benbow glanced at the MP. “If I could have the television screens dropped into place, please.”

Television screens slid down from the ceiling and locked into place all around the room. Evidently military trials often depended on video presentation or the room was sometimes used as a training resource. The screens came on with a burst of white light that hurt Megan’s eyes.

“Sorry,” Benbow apologized to everyone in the room. He pressed another button on the wireless remote control. “What you’re looking at is a VHS tape of the night Gerry Fletcher climbed on top of that building and Mrs. Gander went after him to rescue him. Unfortunately, we didn’t get footage of the whole event, but I think we have enough.”

“Where did you get this tape, Lieutenant?” Trimble demanded.

“From Ms. Penny Gillespie,” Benbow answered, his attention riveted on the screen. “She, in turn, got this from Private Lonnie Smith, who lives in an apartment in that building.”

“If this tape is important, why didn’t Smith come forward with it before now?”

“Because he didn’t know Mrs. Gander was actually going to be put on trial. He felt certain that she would be exonerated of any wrongdoing.” Benbow paused. “Private Smith also found what he saw that night—and what he later found to be on the tape—uncomfortable.”

“Why uncomfortable?” Trimble challenged.

“Because Private Smith is—” Benbow stopped himself and smiled slightly, the expression evident to everyone in the courtroom because light from the screen in front of him lit his features—“because Private Smith
was
a confirmed atheist.”

That statement caused a rumble of conversation through the courtroom, which Colonel Erickson quieted with his gavel.

“What does that have to do with this?” Trimble asked.

“Because Private Lonnie Smith was baptized two days ago, Wednesday night, and could no longer deny what he had seen on this tape. He said it changed his life ‘irrevocably,’ according to Ms. Gillespie.”

Conversation and murmurings ran through the courtroom. The colonel banged his gavel again, having more difficulty controlling it.

“Are we going to see this mysterious tape?” Trimble demanded, “or are you going to persist in this flummery and mumbo jumbo?”

“Mumbo jumbo,” Benbow said, smiling even more broadly. “Major, I’m going to remember that you said that. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised to find you quoted in newspapers and on television news quite often after today.”

“Lieutenant, is that some kind of threat?”

“No, sir. Just a statement of fact.”

“Lieutenant,” Colonel Erickson said, “are we about ready?”

“Yes, Colonel.” Benbow pressed another button.

The screen opened up on a dramatic scene. Megan saw herself at the rooftop’s edge desperately holding on to Gerry Fletcher. It was immediately apparent that the boy was slipping away from her.

“Oh, Gerry,” Tonya Fletcher wailed. All through the court proceedings she’d said nothing.

Benbow paused the tape. Megan knew he’d done it at that spot on purpose, just a heartbeat before Gerry fell. She could still feel his fingers sliding through hers.

“Mrs. Gander, is this you in the film?” Benbow asked.

“Yes.”

“These are the events that happened the night of March first of this year?”

“Yes.” Megan felt a little better. At least in the videotape it was plain that she had been hanging on to Gerry Fletcher, not throwing his clothing over the side as Trimble had suggested.

“Who is the boy?” Benbow asked.

“Gerry Fletcher.”

Benbow walked to the defense table and picked up a folder. “I’ve got pictures of the boy here.” He handed them to the MP and asked him to distribute them to the judge and the jury. Turning to the Fletchers, Benbow asked, “Mrs. Fletcher, can you identify your son from this videotape?”

Tonya gasped in pain. “Yes. That’s him. That’s Gerry.” She covered her mouth with her hand. Boyd Fletcher reached for her, and Megan had the distinct impression that he sank his strong fingers into his wife’s leg to shut her up, because she yelped.

“We’re fortunate that the equipment here has slow-motion capabilities,” Benbow addressed the court. “Otherwise you might miss what I’m about to show you. You see, it happened very quickly. In the twinkling of an eye, some might want to say.” He pressed another button.

In sheer wonderment, Megan watched as the videotape advanced at a snail’s pace. Gerry’s hand slipped from hers. Then he fell, plummeting toward the street. The video camera operator, Private Lonnie Smith, lost Gerry for just an instant, then caught up with him again.

Gerry fell, arms and legs moving in slow motion as he tried to stop himself. Fear etched the boy’s face. Benbow pressed another button and the picture zoomed in, filling the screens with Gerry’s face.

Megan’s heart rate shot up as she remembered all the terror and helplessness and anger that had fueled those moments of that night.

Then, incredibly, the fear on Gerry’s face went away. His eyes widened in surprise, and a kind of joy that only children knew filled his features. He reached up with his right hand, a move so instinctive that it made Megan’s heart ache as she remembered Joey and Chris when they were babies learning they could reach out and interact with the world around them.

Gerry reached up the way a child would, his hand clutching for the fingers of an adult’s hands, a hesitant grasping, then a firm squeeze. And as soon as he took hold of whatever he’d reached for, just that quick he was gone. A shimmer of light, so faint it might have been imagined, passed through his body; then his empty clothes dropped to the concrete below.

Benbow stopped the tape, reversed it so that Gerry reappeared in his clothing, then disappeared again. And again. And again.

The sound of men and women praying filled the courtroom.

As she gazed around, Megan saw men and women on their knees, some of them crying openly, others so terrified they could hardly control themselves. Only a few appeared to be unmoved at all.

“Mrs. Gander,” Benbow asked in a quiet, powerful voice, “is this what you saw that night?” He turned to face her and his eyes held a bright sheen.

“Yes,” Megan said. “I didn’t see it that clearly, but yes, that’s what I saw. I saw Gerry disappear.”

Even Colonel Erickson forgot to use his gavel to quiet the courtroom.

Benbow spoke over the crowd noise. “Colonel, the defense rests.” He looked at Trimble, who was on his knees retching and quaking in fear. “Major, we’re all through with the mumbo jumbo now.”