The Hand of God (6 page)

I stood there with the dog at my feet. It twitched as the life oozed out of it.  I was totally soaked with blood.  I couldn’t tell which blood was mine and which was the dog’s.  The wound on its stomach was open so wide its entrails had spilled partially onto the ground.  I’d gutted the thing like a pig and I felt good.  I felt good. I was breathing hard, and was still holding the knife. I felt like a warrior.   My shoulder didn’t even hurt at this point.  I should have been in severe pain, but the rush of the kill took over.

“Charlie!  Charlie?” It was my father, shouting my name.  He was probably worried sick.  No telling what he would think when he saw me like this.  He’d already lost one son that day.  I yelled back so he could find me.

“I’m here Dad!  I’m okay!”

I heard branches and sticks breaking as he ran through the woods. 

“Where?  I can’t see you!”!”

“Over here!  Can you hear me?”

He kept running and after a few minutes I saw his flashlight approaching.  I waved and could tell he saw me.

“Charlie, thank God. We were—“…” He stopped when he saw me covered in blood.  Looking down he saw the dead dog at my feet.  “My God.  What happened, son?  Are you okay?”

“He killed Tommy, so I killed him.  An eye for an eye.”

“Are you okay? You’re bleeding.” He moved toward me and put his arm around me.

“He got my arm good, but I think I’m okay,” I said.

“Let’s get you cleaned up and get you to the hospital.” He saw the knife and looked at me.  I dropped it as he made eye contact.  “We can talk on the way there.  I’m glad you’re alright.”

I knew he was glad, but I could tell he was scared.

Chapter 10

I couldn’t get back to sleep after that dream, so I decided to do some research on my new friend.  My laptop was in my bag next to the bed.  I pulled it out and logged on to Google for a search.  I found a site for I Am the Way Ministries.  There were a few other listings as well.  It looked like it had started out as a blog on MySpace several years ago, but the Bishop had expanded it.  Now it had an official website that looked professionally done.  There was a large photo of the Bishop smiling, of course.

The homepage had links to typical ministry stuff.  There was a mission statement, an “about us” link, and, the expected a link for donations.  No ministry would be anything without a means for people to give it money.  The mission statement at the top of the page was from John 14:6: 

I am the way, the truth and the life.  No man comes to the Father but by me.  I Am the Way Ministries is dedicated to following Jesus’ example of healing the sick, feeding the poor and ministering to all so they may know the love of Jesus Christ. 

I clicked on some of the links only to find more photos of the Bishop.  One of them showed him in Africa giving out food to children.  Another showed him with a tool belt on top of a building being  worked on somewhere.  I finally found his full name on one of the pages.  His name was Lionel Hoover.  I tried to search for him but found very little.  There was a website from his old church but it hadn’t been updated in three years.  I figured I would leave it at that.  If he was as smart as I thought he was, there wouldn’t be much information about him out there.  I wouldn’t imagine some disciple of Satan would leave much of a digital footprint.

I was walking  to the refrigerator when it happened.  God began speaking to me.  I never knew when or how it would happen, but it always took me by surprise.  First, I would feel lightheaded as the room began to spin.  My whole body started feeling warm, then hot until sweat poured down my face and chest.  I trembled and had to sit on the floor in the kitchen. When I closed my eyes I saw what God wanted me to see.  My next sinner.

She was a woman who lived in San Antonio named Nancy Martinez.  I saw her sitting in a rocking chair holding a beautiful baby boy, yet she was crying.  She stood and placed him in his crib. When God shows me these visions, I usually feel as if everything is actually happening.  I had no doubt this was the case here.  It felt as if I was in the baby’s room right next to Nancy. I wanted to stop her, to reach out and take that innocent baby from her.  But I couldn’t.  This was the worst, during every vision.  I’ve watched people do horrible things, and was helpless to intervene.  I don’t know why God didn’t have me try to stop them, but mine was not to question his will.

Once the baby was in the crib, he began to cry.  Then Nancy cried even harder.  She placed her hand over her mouth, trying to hold it in. 

“Stop it!” She shouted, but the baby kept crying.  “I said stop it!  Now!  Shut up!” 

She reached into the crib and placed her hand on the back of his head as he lie on his stomach.  She began pushing his face into the mattress.  He continued to cry, but his cries were muffled.  After a minute, he was silent.  She held him like that for another minute before letting go.  He was dead. She. She had smothered him.  She walked back to the chair and sat down, pulling out a pack of cigarettes from the pocket on her housecoat.  Smoke filled the room as she lit one and stared at the ceiling, taking drags off her cigarette the same way a person might after sex. 

The warmth and dizziness went away as I snapped out of it.  I was back in my kitchen looking around.  It always took me a few minutes to get my wits about me after one of my visions.  One thing I did know, God had just given me another mission.  I knew what needed to be done, and there was no time to waste.  My laptop was back in the bedroom; I went back in and opened it back up.  There was always a bit of research that needed to be done before I carried out God’s work.  God revealed many things to me about the sinners, and what He didn’t reveal, Google did.  I was also subscribed to some public records search engines. . 

I found Nancy’s address as well as some other basic information.  I had to get dressed so I could head out as soon as possible.  That was the plan, at least, until my phone went off.  It was Roger’s number, probably his wife, but what would she want?

“Hello?” I said into the speaker.

“Pastor Charlie?  It’s Tricia Quinn, Roger’s wife.”

“Yes, Tricia, how can I help you?”

“Roger never came home Sunday night.  I’ve been calling all over and no one has seen him.  His car was in the alley down the road from our house, but no sign of him.”

“That’s crazy,” I said, trying to sound concerned but without overdoing it. “Have you called the police?”

“I did. They came out took a report along with some pictures of his car.  But there was nothing unusual, they said.  Since he is an adult and there’re no signs of violence, they said there is nothing much they can do.”  I could tell she was crying but trying to hold it in.

“That’s it?”

“I know.  It’s driving me crazy.  In twenty-five years of marriage he has never not come home without calling or anything.  His phone has been off since Sunday night.”  She paused and took a breath.  “The stupid cops said maybe he ran away with some girl!  Can you believe that?   Assholes!”  I’d never heard her swear before, but it was understandable under the circumstances.  “I’m so sorry, Pastor.  I just don’t know what to do.  I’m scared something awful has happened.”  I couldn’t believe it. Her husband was missing, and she was worried about using a bad word.

“It’s okay Tricia.  Is there anything I can do? I could stop by later today if you like.  Or would you rather I call someone for you?”

“Yes, that would be nice.  His mom is here, we could use some prayer, Pastor Charlie.  I’m so scared.”

“It’s okay to be scared.  I’ll be there in a few hours.”

After hanging up I saw it was almost five o’clock in the morning.  I figured I could jump in the shower and go visit Tricia.  I would have to take care of Nancy a little later.  One inconvenience about being a pastor is getting called away at all hours of the day.  It was hard enough for meme as it was.  I couldn’t imagine some pastors with wives and kids to deal with as well.  Then again, most of them didn’t have the additional calling I had. 

As I got in the shower I planned the routine for the day.  Go see Tricia and pray with her and her mother in law.  Then I had to get to the chapel and prepare everything for Nancy Martinez, and from there go get Nancy and perform the ritual.  As long as nothing else strange came up, it should all go well.  What a busy day ahead.

Chapter 11

Tricia Quinn and her mother-in-law sat crying and holding each other on the couch across from me.  Her mother in law’s name was Margaret.  She was in her seventies, but dyed her hair brown.  The house was small but well kept.  Their kids were grown, so Tricia just took care of the home while Roger would work. 

“Thank you for coming Pastor Charlie,” She said.  Margaret nodded as well.

“It’s no problem at all.  Roger is a good man.  I’m sure he’ll turn up somewhere.”

“I just have a horrible feeling.  I can’t seem to shake it.”

“That’s just Satan trying to scare you, to make you lose faith," I told her.  It was total bullshit and I knew it, but what else could I say?

She just nodded and then we all joined hands as I prayed with them.  I did take some comfort in all this knowing that no one had seen me grab Roger.  It was a high risk mission, but all went well.  I hugged both her and her mother-in-law as I prepared to leave.  They needed some time alone.  The next few months would not be easy for them, the longer Roger remained missing.
             
I really cannot express how awkward it was comforting the wife of a man who I had just killed, dismembered, dissolved, and then poured down the drain like last night’s dirty dishwater. This is where my gift of emptiness came in handy.  When I was in elementary school, I heard a school nurse tell my dad I had a “flat affect”.  It meant just that---- I look flat, unemotional, hollow.  Not much I could do about it except fake it when the need arose.  Tricia’s house was one of those times.  I could only sit in awkward silence for so long.  I was just about to the door when there was a knock.

“Do I know you?” Tricia said as she answered the door.  She didn’t, but I did.  I felt the temperature drop about ten degrees.

“I don’t believe so.  My name is Bishop Hoover.  I’m so sorry if I’m intruding.   I’m new to the area and recently heard about your husband.  I just wanted to see if there was anything I could do?” He was smiling as usual.

“Why thank you; that’s very kind.  I don’t know of anything you could do. The police are working on it, and Pastor Charlie is here.”

“Oh yes, Pastor Charlie is a good man.  You’re in good hands with him, Mrs. Quinn.”

She smiled slightly.

“Why, thank you. And, yes, he is.”

“Well, I won’t be a bother.  I must go anyway.  I’ll be praying for you and your family.”

“Thank you so much, Bishop.”

I figured this would be a good time for some reconnaissance on my new friend.  It wasn’t in the day’s plan, but sometimes one needs to improvise.  I told Tricia I needed to check on some other folks and excused myself.  It was a hot day, so when I climbed in my Tahoe I almost burned my hands on the steering wheel.  That’s typical of South Texas during the summer.  The Bishop was already a block down the road in his black Lincoln.  I followed him from a safe distance.  I had tailed many people in the past, so I knew how to avoid detection.  It’s not a typical skill for a pastor, but one I had acquired nonetheless.

We wound through side streets for at least twenty minutes.  I wasn’t sure where he was going.  He pulled onto the ramp and onto the freeway headed into San Antonio.  We drove for forty five more minutes and got off the freeway on the northeast side of town.  He pulled into a little motel.  It looked rather rundown for this part of the city.  He got out of the Lincoln and knocked on one of the doors on the first floor.  After a minute another man answered.