The Devil's Game

by Daniel Patterson

  As Samuel continued to point with a shaking finger at the wall, James got up and went to see what his friend could possibly want to show him. There was a row of pictures lined up and evenly spaced. Evenly spaced, except for the last one on the right. That one looked as though it had been hastily tacked up and whoever had done it hadn’t cared about making it look right. Or maybe, they had wanted it to stand out.

  In the dark room he couldn’t see that last photo very well. It was an old black and white photo too, which didn’t help. The one person in it was definitely Samuel, a younger Samuel, from back in the days when he was young and stupid. The other person looked to be tall, thin, dressed in black with long black hair and—

  Oh, no!

  James went quickly to the light switch and flicked it on, taking two steps back toward that photo before he realized the switch hadn’t done anything. He tried it again, and again, as people do when they think for sure the next time it will make the light work. The bulb must be blown.

  So to the windows he went, grabbing a handful of drapes.

  “No wait,” Samuel said in a feeble voice.

  But James really, really needed some light in the room.

  The curtains slid back with a loud squeal of metal rings scraping along the rod. Bright, slanting sunlight filled the room. Samuel covered his eyes with his arms and cringed as if the light were actually hurting him, breathing in short ragged breaths.

  James couldn’t tear his eyes away from the photograph. In it, standing next to the Samuel of the past, was Simon Paradis. With that same wide, predatory smile, same long black hair, same piercing eyes. The clothes were different, matching the period the photo was taken, but it was definitely Simon.

  “How . . . ?” he tried to ask before his throat closed up.

  “I was a different man back then,” Samuel’s weak voice answered him. “You know that. You know what I did. You don’t know . . . you don’t know why. I had a friend. Thought I did. Thought he was my friend. He told me I had to do it. Said it would make everything better. Told me a lot of things.”

  James watched as Samuel broke down and cried.

  He knew what Samuel had done in his youth. They’d had a talk not long after James became his pastor. Samuel told him because he said confession helped his soul. He’d told James how he robbed a local coffee shop and accidentally shot a young waitress back when he was in his late twenties. Samuel was still with the waitress, sobbing hysterically over the injured woman, trying to stop the bleeding, when the police arrived.

  Samuel had never told anyone about the friend who urged him to commit that horrible act. And now that friend had come back, all these many years later, looking not one day older, and had found him right here in Harmony. Had come to his home, sat down and had coffee with him. Now that friend had befriended his nephew, Daniel. And now Samuel knew the truth, just as James did.

  Outside Satan walked the streets and Daniel walked with him.

  Samuel had pulled all of his curtains shut, blocked out the world outside, and stayed here in his chair, afraid to face that truth.

  James leaned down over his friend and took the man in his arms. “It’s all right, Samuel. He can’t hurt you. Not anymore. Not if you let the light in and trust in God.”

  Samuel grabbed onto James tightly and sobbed. “But Daniel . . . he doesn’t trust anyone right now . . .”

  Daniel was the kind of person that Satan sought out, those who are most vulnerable and with his military training—the most dangerous.

  “Then we’ll have to find him and help him see the light.”

  * * *

  James cooked Samuel a quick hot dinner while he showered and changed his clothes. When Samuel emerged clean and fresh for his meal, he looked around the living room, once again flooded with light, and even managed a smile. James promised to have COPs members stop in and check on him at least once a day.

  It would take some time before Samuel got over his fear that the devil, now calling himself Simon Paradis, was going to do him harm.

  James scowled. For all he knew, that was exactly what Simon had planned.

  Why else would he make it a point to show himself to Samuel like that? It worried him that he had taken the trouble to befriend his nephew. Nothing good could come of that.

  He drove back to the church and he focused his mind on his intent, on the request he had to make, and prayed, “Dear God, please watch over my friend Samuel Stirling. He hasn’t always been a good man, Lord, we both know that. But he is a good man now, as is his nephew Daniel. I know that he is weak right now from his experiences in the war, but please protect him from the manipulations of the devil. The devil that is now, somehow actually among us. I’d really love to know how that happened by the way, Lord, but I understand you may not be ready to tell me. If you could maybe give me just a few hints though, that would be greatly appreciated. Help me to stop Simon Paradis and to help those that he would otherwise hurt. Thank you, Lord. Amen.”

  Chapter Twenty

  ANOTHER DAY PASSED AND in the morning James was trying to clear away the mound of paperwork from his desk so that he could prepare for the COPs meeting. He sighed heavily and signed off on one completed form before starting on the next. Paperwork was one of the many things that were distracting him from figuring out what Simon’s game was.

  James signed his name at the bottom of the last sheet in his stack and stood up triumphantly. “Done. Finally.” He glanced at the clock on the office wall. Twenty after nine. He should update Branson. He reached for the phone on the corner of his desk.

  It rang just before he touched it.

  He drew his hand back as if the ringing phone had tried to bite him and then shook his head at himself, feeling silly. Just a phone.

  He picked up the receiver on the fourth ring. “Hello?”

  “James?” Then silence.

  “Branson?” His friend’s voice sounded odd. Tired, maybe? Something. “Branson, what’s the matter?”

  “I need to see you. Right now,” Branson told him, in that same flat tone.

  “Uh, sure. Are you at your church?”

  “That will be fine. See you here.”

  The line disconnected.

  “Okay, that was weird.” His brow furrowed. Well, no way to know what was going on until he met with Branson.

  He locked the church behind him and went to his car. He never used to lock the church. It had always been something he had left open, in case someone from the community needed a place to go and pray or just think. Now he kept it locked whenever he wasn’t there.

  He turned out from the parking lot onto the street and then took a right turn toward Grace Community Church—Branson’s church.

  He was a few blocks away when he caught sight of Daniel walking down the sidewalk, a rucksack slung over his shoulder. That was something else he was going to have to set right. He had been so distracted that Simon had been able to swoop in and influence Daniel.

  Maybe Branson was right. Maybe all Simon had hoped to accomplish with his little dialogue at the diner was to distract James. Keep him from doing what he was supposed to do for the people around him. It merited serious consideration.

  But he’d have to think on that later as he was already at Branson’s church. He walked up to the metal frame doors with their triangular stained glass windows. Inside he found Branson coming down the hallway, a blue knit cap in place on his recently shaved head.

  “Branson, what’s wrong?” James asked.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t get out of here faster but I had a few things to get done. So, what’s up?” Branson said.

  James was becoming more confused by the moment. “Branson, you called me.”

  Branson slowly reached up and took his cap off. “No. You called me and said you needed my help.”

  The two friends looked at each other.

  “We’ve been played,” Branson said.

  “Yes,” James agreed. “He’s trying to keep us occupied?”


  Branson nodded. “He wanted to get us away from our churches . . . Only, I’m still at mine.”

  James was running out the front door and back to his car before Branson finished his sentence.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  THE JETTA SKIDDED TO a halt in the parking lot of his church. The building appeared to be fine. Just like James had left it.

  COPs members had already started to gather and were chatting among their cars. A couple of them waved at James.

  He forced himself to remain calm and greeted Georgette. Together they went up to the front doors . . . and froze.

  One of the doors was broken inward, the wood splintered right at the lock.

  Someone was inside the church.

  James snatched his cell phone out of his pocket to dial 9-1-1.

  No signal.

  He looked at Georgette, who was doing the same.

  She shook her head. She didn’t have a signal either.

  There was always good signal in the church.

  Always.

  Until now.

  “Georgette, please go back to the parking lot and keep everyone away. Send someone for the police.”

  Her eyes were huge. “Reverend, you should come with me. Don’t go in there alone . . .”

  “I won’t be alone,” he assured her. “This is God’s house.”

  Georgette looked frightened but nodded and turned back to the parking lot where the other COPs were watching, unaware and unconcerned.

  James said a silent prayer for protection and guidance and stepped inside, pushing the busted door aside as he went.

  He moved cautiously into the narthex, into the sanctuary with its benches and its crosses on the wall. There, on the front pew, was something that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

  A green rucksack. Daniel’s pack.

  The pack was open now, and empty.

  “Daniel?” he called out. “Daniel, it’s Pastor Buchman. I know you’re here. Can we talk?”

  “Oh, now you want to talk?” Daniel said from the back room, from his office. “It’s a little late, isn’t it, Reverend?”

  “It’s never too late,” he answered, trying to sound conversational while quietly making his way to the door to his office. “Can you tell me why you’re here?”

  “Come on back. I’ll tell you all about it.”

  James swallowed against a suddenly dry throat. He did not like the way this was going at all, but he had very little choice. Daniel apparently needed his help, somehow.

  So, into his office he went. He found Daniel standing there. The man’s face was white as a sheet, hair damp with sweat. In his hand he held a small device with a button on the top. There was a sickening smile twisting his lips. His eyes were bright, as if he had a fever.

  The device trailed a wire that led to what looked like a smartphone strapped to Daniel’s chest, which was connected to multiple blocks of what he could only assume were plastic explosives.

  The phone had a digital timer that read 02:47 and was counting down . . .

  02:46 . . .

  02:45 . . .

  02:44 . . .

  “Did I ever tell you what I did in the Army before I was discharged?” Daniel asked him, his voice higher-pitched than it should have been. “I was a demolitions expert, a combat engineer. EOD Specialist. That’s Explosive Ordinance Disposal, Reverend. Same as Uncle Samuel in World War II.

  02:40 . . .

  “Uncle Samuel taught me more than a thing or two about explosives. I bet you didn’t know that, did you? I guess you could say I followed in his footsteps. I blew things up. I was good at it, too. Real good. Until that accident that killed those two men. But that was not my fault!”

  02:35 . . .

  It took a few moments for James’ tongue to start working. “Okay, Daniel. What are you doing?”

  Daniel laughed, in a strained and pitched tone. “Seriously? I figured that would be obvious. I’m going to blow this place up, you too, now that you’re here.”

  “God,” James prayed fervently, “I know you are with us. Help me. Help me help Daniel. Daniel, you don’t want to do this.”

  “Yes I do, Reverend. You know why? Simon helped me figure it out. I haven’t lived, that’s why. I’ve done everything I could for God and my country and for everyone else, but I haven’t done anything for myself. I haven’t lived! So now, I’m going to live. For one, shining moment, I’m going to live!”

  02:18 . . .

  02:17 . . .

  He hadn’t lived! The same words Simon used. Lived. It was ‘devil’ spelled backward.

  James took one step closer to Daniel. “Daniel, I know you’ve had some bad things put into your head. You need to think for yourself again. What do you gain by destroying this church and me and yourself?”

  The man raised the trigger mechanism. James raised his hands in front of him and stepped back again.

  “You don’t get it, do you?” Daniel said, his face twitching now from the strain of holding his smile in place. “I’m not just going to kill you and me. I’m going to kill everyone! I’m everybody’s handyman. People let me into their houses and their businesses. I have bombs all over town. Wireless technology. One of the things they taught me about in the Army. Didn’t take me long to put them in. They all detonate off this timer. The timer gets to zero and the bombs go off. One goes off, they all go off.”

  01:58 . . .

  01:57 . . .

  “Hello? James?” a woman said from inside the church.

  No!

  It was Amy.

  “She’s going to die too, priest,” Daniel said in a voice that was definitely not his.

  It was Simon’s.

  “Don’t do this, Daniel, please,” James begged him. “You don’t want to do this. You’re a good man. God loves you. The people of this town love you. You know that. Think, Daniel. Think about what you’re doing.”

  Daniel blinked and his face relaxed for a mere fraction of a second, but then he was back in the grip of the influences that held him tight. “Going to blow it all to Hell!”

  01:44 . . .

  01:43 . . .

  James had seen that momentary slip, where the evil that had closed around Daniel cracked and lost control. Just for a moment. Daniel could still be reached.

  “Daniel,” he said, speaking more firmly. “Daniel, look at me. Look at me, now.”

  Daniel did—his eyes were still bright and flat, but they centered on James.

  “Good. Good, now think. Who are you? Tell me your name.”

  Daniel growled at him.

  Then he blinked.

  And again.

  “I . . .” he said. “I am . . . I mean . . .” Then he shook his head violently and pointed a finger at James. “Don’t try to confuse me! I’m going to blow up everything! You can’t stop me!”

  “No, I can’t, but you can and God can. You know you don’t want to do this.”

  01:20 . . .

  01:19 . . .

  Amy picked that particular moment to come into the room. She looked from one of them to the other and back again before it registered with her what Daniel had strapped to his chest. She put both hands over her mouth and her eyes went wide.

  “Amy, Amy, it’s okay,” James said to her, in a voice that he hoped was calm enough not to set Daniel off. “Come over to me, Amy. Come and stand right behind me, okay?”

  She nodded, her eyes riveted to Daniel as she stepped over to him and stood there behind him. Not that his body would shield her from much, but it was the best he could do.

  “Daniel,” he said again, “you don’t want to do this.”

  “Yes I do!”

  “Is this what you came back to Harmony to do?”

  Daniel opened his mouth, his jaw working, but no words came out.

  “You’re a man of honor and good intentions. Did you come here to kill people?”

  “N-no,” Daniel stuttered. “No, I . . . c-came home t-to start o-over. T-take care of Un
cle Samuel. D-d-do things right.”

  “Good, good Daniel,” James said to him. “That’s right. Think. Think now.”

  Daniel bent over at the waist and put one of his hands to his head, the other one still holding tightly to the trigger device, but not pushing the button. Not yet. Thank you God, thank you.

  00:59 . . .

  00:58 . . .

  “Lord, please give me the words I need,” James whispered. “Daniel, I—”

  “Shut up!” Daniel snarled, standing back up as if he’d been yanked by invisible strings. He was jabbing his finger at James and yelling at the top of his lungs. “Shut up, shut up, shut up! You do not know anything! Nothing! I have not lived! I need to do this!”

  “No, you don’t,” James said in a soft, gentle voice. “No, you don’t.”

  Daniel blinked again, over and over. He lifted his hand and looked shocked to see the device there, the wire leading to his own body. “Oh, God . . . Help me!”

  “Daniel. Shut it off. You can do it. You were a specialist. You can do it. You can end this. End it now, Daniel. You can do it.”

  Daniel’s hands started to shake. James did not like that at all. He dared to step closer. “Daniel, it’s hard to carry the heavy burdens life gives us. It’s hard to see clearly and many times you just want to give up. But God is there for you Daniel. Ask and He will wipe away your tears of grief and sorrow, your discouragement, and all the sufferings.”

  Daniel’s lips trembled. “What’s happening to me?”

  “Daniel, just let go. Cast all your cares to God.”

  Daniel was blinking so rapidly now that he was squeezing tears out of his eyes.

  00:43 . . .

  00:42 . . .

  He was getting through to him. “Okay, good. Now Daniel, I need you to think. You know how to disarm the device, right?”