Doubting Thomas

by Adam Grinter

  I needed to work out what to do with him.

  “We work for the church.” I said, John’s smile widened. “We’ve been looking for you because we believe you can help us.” John’s face was expectant, but the look in his eyes was patient, he was prepared for us to tell him what this was all about in our own time.

  “The church believe you are special and can help them.” It wasn’t quite a lie, but it wasn’t yet the truth. “Do you know why?” I was trying to get John to open up. To give us some reason why I had spent a week chasing him down. I could think of nothing more than just flat out asking him.

  John paused and thought, his look suggested he was listening to something we couldn’t hear. Eventually he replied, “I help people.” There was a simplicity in his words. “The church does that too. Doesn’t it?”

  As a non-believer I could answer by listing the communities the church didn’t help. Instead I replied slightly non-committally. “It tries to.”

  “Then I need to try to help them.” John’s statement took me by surprise. There was a sincerity to his words I wasn’t expecting. He seemed to have made up his mind this was what he was going to do and that was the end of the debate about it.

  I’d been studying John and although he seemed special and was an intriguing person there was nothing super-natural about him I could bring back to William and the church. I was unsure what to do with him, I felt our search had been fruitless.

  Maria had obviously reached the same conclusion because there was a weariness to her tone as she asked John. “Has anything unexplained happen to you in life?”

  John thought hard at her question and then disappointingly he responded, “I don’t think so, I’ve never noticed anything.”

  “Are you sure?” I pushed. I wanted there to be something. I didn’t want all of the last week to have been wasted.

  John thought hard. I could see the concentration on his face as he wracked his memories for anything unexplainable. “Nothing.” He eventually replied.

  Maria and I sat in silence. There was no more we could add. Our purpose for the last week had disappeared, we had found the man we were searching for but that was all he was. Just a man.

  I rose slowly from the uncomfortable chair and stretched my back. My side screamed as I leant back to try to relieve my muscles. Maria followed my lead and stood waiting for me. I felt we should say something to reassure him so I fell back on the police phrases that had served me so well for so many years.

  “Thanks for your time John. We’ll be in touch if we need anything more from you.”

  I tried to smile but it seemed forced as I turned and followed Maria back to the main entrance.

  1 John

  John sat momentarily stunned by the fact Thomas and Maria were leaving without him. That wasn’t supposed to happen.

  ‘Help him.’ Mother whispered in his head.

  John didn’t quite understand so asked, ‘what?’

  ‘Help Thomas.’ Mother clarified.

  John quickly rose from the chair and rushed down the corridor after Thomas and Maria. He reached them just as they were about to exit back out into the mid-morning brightness of the car park.

  “Thomas.” He said to get their attention. Thomas turned to face him. John thrust out his hand as if to shake Thomas’. Thomas put out his hand in an instinctive response.

  John reached past the outstretched hand and placed his palm on Thomas’ side.

  ‘Help him.’ Mother repeated.

  Chapter Eighteen

  I reached out to shake John’s hand without thinking. My mind was already elsewhere. Focusing on the email I would have to send to William. The hunt he had wished for, for twenty-five years had ultimately proved to be nothing more than a series of bizarre coincidences. I couldn’t explain the priest’s talking in tongues, John’s miraculous birth or how he knew we were coming and greeting us by name. I would put the ball into William’s court, let him make a decision, however I would suggest none of these things were miracles just unexplainable at this moment. I was disappointed at this outcome, I didn’t realise how much I’d hoped John would be something tangible in a world short on miracles and wonder.

  John’s hand reached past my arm and clamped to my side. His palm cupped my scar, I was too shocked and mentally preoccupied to react. His touch only lasted a couple of seconds. He withdrew his hand and shook mine on the way past.

  “Thank you for talking to me.” John said as a farewell.

  “Thanks again.” I responded on auto-pilot.

  Maria looked at me quizzically as we walked through the doors to my car. I shrugged my shoulders and we stepped into the fresh air.

  The home had been warm inside. The car park by comparison was chilly and I waited for the ache in my side that would come from the change in temperature. Even the slightest change would often cause me pain.

  Nothing.

  I waited some more.

  Still nothing.

  Strangely there was no ache at all. The warm ache I had felt inside the home was gone. For the first time in two years I was pain free.

  I stopped walking and waited for a gust of wind that would set it off again. The leaves in the trees fluttered and I waited for its return. The air brushed past me, I anticipated the inevitable.

  Absolutely nothing.

  This wasn’t right, this was wrong. I had lived with this for two years. I had accepted this as my fate for my mistake. Now it was gone. I had forgotten what pain-free felt like.

  It was incredible. It was fantastic. It was a massive relief.

  Questions formed unbidden in my mind.

  How? Why? What?

  I twisted and stretched and still no pain.

  I prodded and probed my scar and still no pain.

  I stood still on the edge of the car park and grinned whilst taking a very deep breath that would have hurt had I done it five minutes previously.

  Maria reached the car and looked back at me with a puzzled look on her face. She walked back to where I was standing. The questioning look on her face didn’t need words, I knew she was wondering what was going on.

  “My side doesn’t hurt.” I said as way of explanation.

  Her quizzical look remained.

  “I told you I got stabbed two years ago.” Maria nodded. “Well it’s always hurt.” Maria nodded again slowly realising what I was talking about. “Well not any more.” I concluded.

  “Where John just touched?” She asked.

  “Yeah.” I answered.

  We both stood and took in the meaning of my answer. We both reached the same conclusion at the same moment. We rushed back through the main doors. We ignored the receptionist who looked at us quizzically as we exited and entered in quick succession.

  John was walking back to the TV room and we scurried after him.

  “John.” I called to slow him down.

  John stopped and looked back at us. We reached him and stood awkwardly in the corridor. My brain was trying to form the words to ask him if he had healed me without sounding crazy.

  “Did I help you?” John asked.

  “Yes, yes you did.” I replied. “How did you do that?” I asked, not sounding crazy at all.

  “I don’t know.” He said. “But it was the help you needed.”

  “Yes, yes it was.” I assured him. “Do you want to come with us and meet someone I think needs to talk to you?”

  “Yes, yes I would.” He aped, smiling, pleased with his attempt at humour.

  Maria and I smiled along with him.

  “I need to finish my work today. I get off at six and then we will go and meet your friend.” John told us.

  “OK.” I replied slightly stunned that yet again we would need to play the waiting game.

  “It’s my last day here today. We can go after I finish my shift.” John clarified. “I’ll meet you outside at ten past six.”

  “OK.” I replied again.

  John turned away from us and walked back into the TV l
ounge.

  Maria and I walked out of Auden House into stunning sun light that shone through the surrounding trees’ leaves which caused us to wince at its dappled glare. Everything seemed brighter, the colours of the car park, the grey of the tarmac, the white of the painted lines and the bright shades of the parked cars seemed to be brighter than when we had walked in. The world seemed to have resolved itself into high definition.

  #

  Another day spent waiting. Another pub lunch. Another six hours doing very little except killing time.

  I sent an email to William telling him we’d found John. I told him about my side, unsure why I included that information but for some strange reason I wanted him to be impressed, I wanted him to be proud of me. Although I may subconsciously have just been trying to justify my job. I told him we’d be back in London for the next day and felt he needed to meet us in the morning. At five PM I got a reply.

  Thomas

  I would be very pleased to meet John.

  I’ll meet you at your office tomorrow at 10.

  Thanks

  William

  So that was sorted.

  The day dragged, I wanted to hit the road immediately we’d decided to take John with us. That decision had been taken out of my hands.

  The last hour was the slowest hour of my life. It felt as though the hands on the clock wouldn’t move. Every time I looked at it, seconds had passed rather than the minutes I assumed they actually were.

  I googled the route to the motorway in anticipation of our journey and an attempt to kill a few minutes of dead time.

  I needed petrol before we headed South so planned where I could get that. The banality of normal life, getting in the way of something spectacular.

  After what felt like a week, six PM finally arrived. Maria and I stood outside the main entrance to Auden House waiting for John.

  At five past, John, the receptionist and two other people sauntered through the front doors. John disengaged from the small group and approached Maria and myself.

  “Sorry, but the girls have insisted on taking me for a goodbye drink at the pub round the corner. We won’t be long.” John told us.

  I looked at my watch dramatically thinking of the four and a half hour journey ahead of us.

  “You can come if you want.” John added.

  It seemed John needed to do this to offer himself and his friends some closure on their time together. Maria and I thought it was only fair for all of them. We tagged along behind them to the local pub.

  Maria and I sat on a separate table and let the work colleagues have their farewell drinks while we nursed an orange juice and a coke. We waited for John to say his farewells and disentangle himself from his companions.

  Most of what I’d been doing over the last couple of weeks had been building up to this moment. We’d found John, we’d tracked down the needle in the haystack but now we were having to wait again in order to get the logistics right.

  I wondered again how John knew my name, I wondered how he knew to leave his job the day we arrived. I wondered how he had stopped my pain. There was something very definitely unexplainable about it. Almost from the beginning of the search I’d felt it being guided by an unseen hand, first it had been William. I wasn’t sure who was manipulating us now.

  “… wait.” I snapped back to the present and caught the last words of Maria’s sentence.

  “Sorry.” I said apologetically. “I was in my own little world there. I missed that.”

  “Seems like all we do here is wait.” Maria repeated.

  “Welcome to England.” I replied with a smile. “Remember our national sport is queuing.”

  “I’d heard that.” Maria said with a laugh.

  I made a big show of looking at my watch, in the hope John would pick up on my not so subtle hint. We needed to hit the road South. He was engrossed in conversation with his colleagues, not paying me any attention and my message was wasted.

  Maria and I continued our relaxed stakeout in silence.

  John’s companions eventually rose from their table. John followed their lead and they all hugged, good-byes were said. The receptionist wiped a tear from her eye, as she held John’s hand for longer than was comfortable. They disengaged and she walked away pausing only once to look back at John. John stood alone at his table while Maria and I sat patiently at ours.

  John took a deep breath allowed himself to enjoy the moment of calm. He shrugged his shoulders after a minute of peace and then approached our table. There was a faint smile on his lips.

  He looked at both of us and declared decisively, “OK, let’s do this.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Our journey South needed to start with a pit-stop to refuel. The three of us piled into my car enthusiastically. I pulled out into sparse traffic heading in the direction of the M6.

  The roads were relatively quiet, I told my passengers to keep an eye out for a petrol station. I didn’t want to fill up on the motorway. I may have been on expenses, but, I didn’t believe in wasting money when I didn’t need to. I always felt that was a basic code to live by.

  We saw the bright lights of the petrol station sign almost simultaneously and I slowed instinctively so as not to miss the turning.

  “I see it, I’ve got it.” I reassured them superfluously as I pulled into the forecourt.

  I parked in front of a pump and stepped out of the car. I took the fuel pipe and absent-mindedly started to fuel the car. I stared blankly into space as I held the nozzle and squeezed the trigger to allow the liquid to fill the tank. The click as the fuel touched the nozzle and automatically turned off the stream roused me from my waking slumber.

  I put the hose back and turned to walk to the small shop to pay. Without noticing John appeared at my side and he almost made me jump as he said, “I need to come with you.”

  I assumed he wanted something to eat or drink for the long journey ahead. I nodded an acknowledgement and we fell into step together.

  We stepped into the small shop and I wandered lazily around the two aisles half-heartedly looking for something to take my fancy. I watched John as he did the same. I looked at my watch to gauge what time we would get back to my place. I calculated with a clear run, one-thirty in the morning was a good estimate.

  A moped pulled onto the forecourt at speed and almost skidded to a stop directly outside the entrance.

  The cashier, an early twenties student by the look of the textbooks open in front of him, looked up at the flurry of movement outside.

  The rider of the scooter kicked the stand down and disembarked all in one practised move. He took two small steps and crashed through the door. John and I glanced at one another as he interrupted our leisurely browsing.

  The moped driver strode down the first aisle and approached the payment counter. The cashier’s eyes looked at the man in front of him and threw a look at John and myself. There was fear in them.

  John and I were at the back of the small shop. Even from there I noticed the rider’s hand go to the pocket of his dark green jacket and pull out a pistol. The rider waved it in the face of the cashier in jerky movements and then turned and waved it in our general direction. If he said anything to accompany this action I didn’t hear it. My focus was directed solely on the weapon he was holding. He still had his helmet on so any directions he gave us were just muffled grunts. I got the message. I raised my hands in supplication, John followed my lead.

  It wasn’t the first time in my life I’d experienced a gun pointed in my direction. It had happened twice during my time on the force. I let the old training kick back in and remembered the words of my trainer.

  ‘Stay calm. The gun holder will be nervous. One sudden movement could make him jump and set the gun off. Move slowly, move cautiously.’

  I controlled my breathing in an attempt to remain calm. I tried to take in the details I might need to recount to the police once this was all over. The robber was wearing a standard white motorcycle helmet with a d
ark visor covering his face. His jacket was loose fitting and dark green with no visible identifying manufacturer’s tag. His blue jeans were generic but there were dark smudges, just below the knees probably caused by the scooter. He wore white Nike trainers which were probably as expensive as the rest of his clothes combined. He had black gloves on, his collar was pulled up above his neckline. I couldn’t even tell the colour of his skin.

  His movements were jerky and staccato which could have been down to nerves at what he was doing, it could have been the sign of a mental health problem or an addiction that had got out of control. It wouldn’t be much for the police to go on, but it was better than nothing.

  I risked a glance out the window at the forecourt and saw Maria in my car. She could see what was happening inside but knew there was nothing she could do to help us. We were on our own.

  The young man behind the counter had his hands in the air and looked like he was about to burst into tears. The fear etched all over his face made him look a lot younger than I assumed he was.

  I took all this information in in a matter of seconds. The adrenaline coursing through my veins had slowed my perception of time. It felt an eternity since the scooter rider had rushed through the door.

  I glanced at Maria again and could see she had opened the car door. She was starting to get out. I wasn’t sure what she was planning but she was safer where she was than in here with us. I was also conscious of the fact the rider would want to get away. If she tried to block his exit she could get hurt at that point too.

  I tried to will her back into the car.

  She continued to move in the opposite direction.

  I caught movement beside me out of the corner of my eye and turned my head to see John walking slowly towards the gunman. We were at the back of the shop with a row of shelves between us and the robber. John’s trajectory would mean he would end up next to the rider.