Inside Lucifer's War (29 page)

Realizing they may have had my apartment under surveillance or potentially even searched through it, I backtrack.

“You’re too smart for me. I asked a nurse to pick it up from a store around the corner here. I thought it sounded better if I said I’d been saving it.” I laugh. Fortunately, they laugh to. “Actually, this is a very fine wine.”

I hand them the glasses and take mine. “I want to tell both of you the good news. The doctor is releasing me tomorrow. And he gave me a green light to fly to New York whenever we’re ready. I have to be honest, the earlier the better for me. I’m tired of this town.”

I raise my glass. “I want to say cheers to our endeavors. I very much look forward to working with both of you.”

They raise their glasses, and then we drink the wine.

“This is great news,” replies Kinsley. “Do you think you could be ready by Monday?”

“I was hoping it might be later in the week,” I say. “I still have a few things to take care of.”

“We can come back the following weekend if you need to finish any arrangements,” he says. There’s a conference next week in New York that I would love for you to attend.”

I don’t want to push my luck. “Monday sounds great,” I say. “I’m anxious to get started.”

“Perfect. I’ll have Bruce pick you up at your apartment, and I’ll meet you at the plane. Can you meet me by one o’clock?”

“One o’clock it is,” I say. The three of us take another swallow of wine.

Bishop notices the other glass. “Who’s the fourth glass for?”

“Well, that brings me to my next question for Kinsley,” I say. “I’ve asked Paige—you met her a long time ago at the coffee shop—to come over later tonight. I want her to fly to New York with me. Just for the first week. Do you think that could be arranged? I know I’m supposed to leave this world behind me, but a man is a man, after all.”

Kinsley smiles. “Oh, yes, I remember her. A very attractive woman. How can I deny a man who has been laid up in the hospital because some crazy person shot him? Bring Paige! It’ll be fun to have her there.”

C
HAPTER 26

The Funeral

You understand you have to stay hidden until Monday morning, right?” I tell Stacie as we drive to the church. “We’re probably being watched right now. After the funeral, you can’t be seen with me.”

“I understand, Tom. I was there, remember?” she says.

“I just . . . I just don’t trust them. I’m not sure I convinced them.”

“Do you think it will have taken effect by Monday?” she asks.

“I gave them both a double dose,” I say. “I don’t know. I’ve never done anything like this. We’ll abort if things aren’t progressing. Look, you can always back out.”

“I’m not leaving you. Besides, I’m no safer alone at this point,” she responds. “Tell me again about Mike . . . when you saw him. You said he was happy, right?”

“I think I described it differently. It was more a deep joy, one that just permeated him. He looked great, younger though. I felt at peace when he was with me. He was so excited to share with me that he had seen Jesus. You don’t need to mourn for him, Stacie.”

“I don’t mourn for him,” she says. “I mourn for the people who no longer have him in their lives, especially Therese and the boys.”

“How are they doing?” I ask.

“Poorly,” she responds. I reach over and gently squeeze her hand. No more needs to be said. We drive in silence for the remainder of the trip to the church.

As we pull into the parking lot, there are only a handful of cars there. We are early, which is good. I didn’t want too many people seeing us drive together. Stacie also needs to comfort her sister-in-law and nephews. Once parked, I turn to her. “I have a feeling that Lucifer or one of his minions is going to confront me today. I’m not sure how or when. Typically, I’m alone when it happens, so this doesn’t make sense. Still, I have an overwhelming feeling that there’ll be a confrontation today.”

“Here? Are you sure?” she asks.

“I’m fairly sure. It’s just a sense. Listen, though, whatever happens with me, I have to face this alone. You can’t endanger our efforts with the Principal by aiding me in any way. Do you understand?”

“How can I answer that? You don’t even know what’s going to happen,” she replies.

“I know it’s coming. You need to understand that I’ve never done well in these confrontations. I’m weak, and he and his army are strong. I’m not sure how it will end. His creature said that he looks forward to killing me. If I betray Satan, which I’m going to do today, then he’ll kill me. I don’t know if Jesus will rescue me from this. I need to know that you won’t try to rescue me. I need for you to promise me. You can’t help me. Please promise me now.”

“I promise,” she says. “But you have to promise me that you will ask Jesus for help when the time comes.”

“I promise,” I reply. I grab my whiskey flask from under the seat and slide it into my jacket. It’s a cool afternoon, but sunny. The jacket feels good. I won’t need to take it off, which is good since my bottle is hidden there.

As Stacie attends to her family and coordinates with the pastor on the service, I roam around the church to find an opportune place to have my scene with Stacie. I know that Kinsley and Bishop will be here. They still don’t trust me, and they’ll need to see how this ends. We have to convince them so they’ll convince any other Principal characters involved, or in case my backup plan fails.

After a while, I walk behind the church to the service road, which extends for several miles parallel to the main road. It’s a small road, almost an alley. There’s a warehouse next to the church that backs up to the service road as well. I walk a ways toward the warehouse. There, I remove my whiskey bottle, take a swallow, gargle with it, and then spill some on my suit. I stink of whiskey.

I walk to the church parking lot, which is filling fast. Several people are directing traffic. Soon the lot is full, and the ushers direct the rest of the traffic to the warehouse. I stand in awe. I wonder how many people would come to my funeral.

With twenty minutes before the service, I meet Stacie in a room we had picked out. I’m waiting there when she arrives. “Ugh! You stink,” she says as she approaches me. “Did you find the spot?”

“Yes,” I say. “I think the best thing is to start the confrontation near the card receiving line. You can escort me out to the parking lot to have the blowup. I’ll be sure to get Kinsley’s attention.”

“Are you certain he’ll be here?” she asks.

“He’ll be here,” I say. “He wants to make sure there’s closure.” I can see something is bothering her. She looks distracted. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. It’s just that Therese and the boys are going to see this. That’s going to be hard for them to watch.”

“Therese has to be part of this if we’re to be believable,” I say. “The boys, though . . . Let’s do this. On my signal, get someone to take the boys to another room to talk to them. Think of something. Can you do that?”

“Yeah, I think that’ll work,” she replies.

“I wish I could tell Therese how sorry I am. I wish I could hug her and tell her how much I love her and her children.”

“I know. I know. Someday, she’ll know,” she assures me.

“Okay, let’s go. I’ll see you after the service. I’m going to watch from one of the rooms cabled for the feed. I don’t want to be in the main audience.”

“See you soon,” she says as she walks out the door.

I head back to the parking lot, looking for Kinsley’s Suburban. Suddenly I spot it. It’s being directed to the warehouse. Bruce is driving. I assume Kinsley is in the back, though it’s hard to see through the tinted windows. I walk over to their line of path. It takes Kinsley an unusually long time to get out of the car. Bruce holds his door open for some time before I see Kinsley’s leg slide out of the backseat. Then he and Bruce make their way toward the church. I head them off at the outer edge of the parking lot. Kinsley doesn’t look well. His normally tan face is white, and there are beads of sweat on his forehead. I pretend not to notice.

“Hello, Kinsley,” I say. “Hello, Bruce. I thought that was your car. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Well, he was a dear friend of yours, so I thought I would pay my respects. I hope that won’t be an issue,” Kinsley says slowly. He turns his head away from me. “Thomas, you stink. Did you fall into a vat of whiskey?”

“Close,” I say. “Apparently, it is frowned upon to have whiskey prior to a funeral, and having a glass at the service is so much worse. Stacie threw my drink in my face. I tried to wash it off, but I still reek. Didn’t stop me from enjoying it, though.” I pull out my flask and take a swallow.

“You’re one of a kind,” Kinsley says with a chuckle. “That reminds me, did you talk with Paige last night. Is she planning on making the trip?” Suddenly he bends slightly, clutching his stomach.

“Something wrong?” I ask ignoring the question. “I might stink, but you look like you’re not feeling well.”

“After we saw you last night, we went out to dinner. I think its food poisoning. Bishop is laid up in his hotel. He said he didn’t want to risk having to rush to the bathroom,” Kinsley replies. “Actually, now that I’ve seen you, we’ll probably come back around at the end of the service. I’m going to have Bruce take me to a pharmacy and pick up something. I’ll catch you afterward. We can drive you home.”

As I walk back toward the church, my arm begins to burn. I panic slightly, not knowing what will happen next. Then I see him. A police officer directing traffic in the street. It’s the creature. I know why he’s here. He’s waiting for an opportune time. I stay close to some people, thinking he would rather confront me when I am alone. I can feel his stare as I enter the church. I’m not sure why, but I text Stacie: “Lucifer’s creature is here. Policeman.”

***

After some time, I realize that the room I’m in is a baby nursing room used during the Sunday services. Fortunately, I’m the only one in the room, and the service is streaming to the television hung in the corner. Occasionally, the camera scans the audience. The church is packed. It is standing room only. What a life Mike led, I think. How many lives he touched. Why would God take such a man and leave me behind? Clearly, Mike was advancing God’s kingdom, and all I’ve tried to do is destroy it. The testimonies from individuals are gut wrenching. I realize I was just another lucky person that Mike touched. There are so many more. In that moment, I realize how blessed I was to have Mike in my life. I slide down the wall until I find myself crouching and crying uncontrollably.

The service lasts an hour and fifteen minutes. It could have lasted longer if they hadn’t limited the number of speakers. The music and singers were glorious. They sang with joy in their hearts, which was hard for me to understand. Therese sat in the front row, but I could only see the back of her head.

After the service, people congregate in the hallways, the sanctuary, the foyer, and every conceivable place. I walk among them, trying not to attract too much attention just yet, though I know my stench makes me conspicuous. I am shocked by what I hear. People are laughing and celebrating Mike’s life with stories, reaffir-ming with each other that they will someday see him again. There are tears, but even then, they are followed with laughter and smiles. How could one man mean so much to so many?

After a while, I know it’s time. I see Kinsley and Bruce enter the foyer and walk toward the card receiving line. I catch Stacie’s eye and give her a wink. I can see her talk to a man who I think I’ve seen at the Fischers’ house. He nods and then motions to the boys. They follow him around the corner.

It is time. I dread this moment, but I know it has to happen. To save Stacie, Therese, and the boys, I have to do this. Stacie returns my glance. Ready . . . set . . . go.

I stumble past several people, knocking into them hard as I pass. I can feel eyes turn toward me. I make sure that Kinsley’s eyes are among them. Finally I reach Stacie.

“So, here I am!” I yell. “The one who got Mike killed! That’s what you all think, right? That’s what everyone of you think.” I swing my arm around, knocking some punch out of a man’s hands.

“We aren’t going to do this here,” Stacie yells, grabbing my arm.

I pull away from her. “Where would you like to do it? I want to make sure it’s convenient for you. Are you afraid to tell me what you think of me in front of all your friends? You hide your hatred in your heart, refusing to spew it out in front of others. Isn’t that what you Christians teach? Well, he was my friend too!”

“That’s it!” she yells, and grabs me by the back of my hair—which is quite effective. We move at a brisk pace out the front door and into the parking lot. When we stop in the parking lot, a couple of men try to step between us, placing their hands on my shoulder, and asking me to calm down.

“Get off me,” I yell, throwing their arms off me.

Stacie tells them, “It’s okay. I can handle him.”

“Yeah, you wish you could handle me,” I say. “That’s what this is all about it, isn’t it? You love me, but you can’t control me. Sorry, babe. You aren’t my type. There’s a Shakespearean line. Maybe you’ve heard it. ‘Get thee to a nunnery.’”

Those were my last words before a fist flies into my jaw. I fall back on the ground and look up at Stacie. But it wasn’t Stacie, though, who threw the punch. Standing next to her is Therese, rubbing her fist. What a punch! I think to myself. My jaw aches, but my side hurts more.