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Shadows Rising

Page 5

by Dean Rasmussen


  “Why does that guy have bodyguards?” Michael asked.

  “Those aren’t bodyguards,” Rebecca said. “They’re his assistants. Brother David is second in command.”

  Everybody in the auditorium wore white. Rebecca wore white tennis shoes, a white skirt, and a white shirt. Even her backpack was white. Maggie dressed to match. The auditorium’s walls echoed chatter like it was the start of a high school basketball game. It wasn’t like any church he’d ever been to. The crowd poured up the bleachers and took their seats before the stage in front. A layer of risers took up half the floor in the center of the auditorium, and a large, black curtain cloaked everything on the platform. White banners draped both sides of the platform displaying “Stone Hill Risen Temple” along with an emblem: a circle with a cross dividing it into four equal parts.

  They moved off to the side and up the bleachers near the back. On the way up the stairs, a boy with a crew cut called out Rebecca’s name from several yards away. She waved, but continued up the bleachers without stopping. The boy wore a white denim shirt and a white bandana around his head. He locked eyes with Michael for a moment until somebody stepped between them.

  Michael looked down at his gray T-shirt and khaki shorts. He stood out like a blazing fire in the night. He hadn’t been to church for several years. Within a short time the auditorium filled, and the people who arrived late stood along the sides of the bleachers. Half the town must have shown up for the service… on a Saturday.

  “You okay?” Rebecca asked him.

  “I don’t belong here.”

  Rebecca laughed. “Newcomers usually feel that way, but just wait because Pastor John always does something awesome.”

  So these were the people blocking his cellphone signal.

  The crowd hushed as the lights dimmed. A chorus of angelic music pulsed through refrigerator-sized loudspeakers that hung from the rafters. The crowd joined in with the song as the curtain parted, and a spotlight lit up a tall thin man in a white suit standing on a platform behind the pulpit. A white and gold cloth draped the pulpit with the circle and cross symbol in the center. The white clothing reflected the light from the intense spotlights, throwing an angelic aura over the stage. A black curtain hung behind the tall man in a white suit, and in front of the pulpit sat a table with a gold bowl. Next to the table was a bed, like a hospital bed with a pillow on one end and no blankets.

  “That’s Pastor John,” Rebecca yelled to Michael over the roaring crowd.

  Pastor John strutted up to the pulpit as the cheers continued, and he stood staring at the audience in silence with his arms folded across his chest. Waves of cheers continued, rising and falling as if a superhero stood before them. Pastor John raised his hands into the air and silence spread through the air. Michael was afraid to breathe.

  “We have another miracle today,” Pastor John roared into the microphone. The crowd erupted again until Pastor John calmed them.

  “You’ve seen many miracles. But what you will see today you will never forget for the rest of your life. If you’ve seen one of my sermons in the past, you know what to expect, and today will be nothing less than miraculous. No, today will be more than miraculous. Today we look at what The Bible says about miracles and healing and Jesus said ‘The things which are impossible with men are possible with God,’ and we will bring one of those miracles to Stone Hill right now. You will see the work of God before you in all His glory.”

  The crowd stood and thunder spread through the bleachers as the members stomped their feet. They sat at Pastor John’s command, and he continued.

  “When we think about all that has happened in this town over the last year, you can see how God’s hand has been working through me to bring the Kingdom of Heaven to Stone Hill. Through me we can change the hearts and minds of the people of this town and this planet to create something great and powerful. Who here has seen the glory of God through me?”

  Most of the crowd raised their hands and cheered.

  “Who believes that God is great and working through me to make our town a light in this world?” The crowd whooped and applauded. “Who here is ready to witness a miracle today and witness God’s power shining through me?” The crowd clapped and praised even louder.

  Maggie and Rebecca clapped along with the crowd when Pastor John spoke. Their eyes were wide and bright, their jaws hanging open as if some famous rock band were about to perform. Michael clapped his hands half-heartedly along with everyone else.

  “Brother David,” Pastor John said. “Who will I heal today?”

  Brother David escorted an elderly man out from behind the black curtain and positioned him so he stood next to Pastor John, facing the crowd.

  “Ron Truby,” Pastor John said. “We’re so glad you chose to become a member of our temple. I know you had doubts early on, didn’t you?”

  Pastor John held a microphone to the man’s mouth.

  “Yes, sir,” Ron said. “But I believe now.”

  “Your wife’s been a member almost from the beginning, God rest her soul. What took you so long to join us?”

  “I was afraid, I guess.”

  “What’s there to be afraid of? You’re not afraid of me, are you?”

  Ron paused. “No. I guess everything’s changed so much. The phantoms and all.”

  “My members are protected from the devil’s phantoms. I clutch their throats and strangle them with the power of righteousness. Let’s banish that fear today. Do you reject the works of Satan and believe in the healing power God has given me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you devote yourself from this day forward to The Stone Hill Risen Temple?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Do you surrender all of yourself and allow God to heal you through me?”

  “Yes.” The man nodded in agreement.

  “Say it from your soul,” Pastor John screamed into the microphone.

  “Yes!” the man shouted.

  “I want to hear it from your soul,” Pastor John screamed louder.

  “Yes, I do!” the man howled as his body shook. “I want you to heal me!” Tears streamed down the man’s face, and he wiped the tears away as Brother David led him over to the hospital bed. The man climbed onto the bed and cried into his hands.

  “Show me the sin you want healed today,” Pastor John yelled at the old man.

  “Right here, sir.” The old man held his hand into the air revealing he only had two fingers on that hand: his thumb and one large finger in the middle.

  “Your sin caused this deformity. Do you repent?”

  “Yes!”

  Pastor John stood over the man and held his hands up high, waving his arms and shaking his body and yelling. “God, help this poor sinner regain his fingers that Satan has taken away. I reject Satan’s work in this man, and I command this man be healed today with the power you’ve given me.”

  Brother David wheeled the table with the gold bowl next to the bed. Pastor John came out from behind the pulpit and towered over the man with his hands raised to the sky, throwing out line after line of Bible verses like a rapper.

  White curtains closed in from the sides of the stage and the front spotlight went dark. A light from behind the stage created a silhouette of Pastor John leaning over and the old man in the bed. Pastor John grabbed the man’s wrist and dunked his hand into the golden bowl with a grand gesture, as if he were a master magician.

  The old man shrieked in pain. A growl erupted like that from a wild dog, and a few minutes later, the white curtain drew back to the sides and the old man jumped off the bed, extending his hand to the crowd.

  “Praise God! Praise God!” he yelled.

  The main spotlight snapped on and focused on the old man’s hand. The one, fused mass of a finger split apart with a loud popping sound, and baby stumps grew from the empty sockets of his index and pinky finger. He rushed to the edge of the stage, displaying his miracle, and his eyes stretched open as if he’d seen the devil. The audien
ce gasped and cheered. The fingers sprouted until they reached their original size.

  “Whoa,” Michael said.

  “I told you this would be great,” Rebecca said.

  “That’s quite a trick,” Michael said.

  “Don’t you say that,” Maggie ordered. Her eyes narrowed. “This is Pastor John’s town. Pastor John’s miracle. You should praise God you’re here in this room.”

  “How did he do that?”

  “Weren’t you paying attention?” Maggie yelled as the crowd continued cheering. “You saw a miracle. You’re on God’s holy ground here with Pastor John.”

  Ron ran out to the crowd and they enveloped him with their arms. He held up his hand to each of them, and they took turns touching his miracle fingers.

  Pastor John remained on the stage with his hands swaying in the air repeating, “Praise God, praise God.”

  He closed his eyes and wobbled as if in a trance. Ron attempted to go back up onto the stage again, but two security guards stopped him, and the old man stayed on the auditorium floor. He dropped to his knees with his hand stretched up to Pastor John shouting, “Thank you! Thank you.”

  The crowd applauded and a few people ran down from the bleachers toward Pastor John, but more security guards came out from the sides to stop the temple members from getting near the stage. An old woman in a wheelchair made it to the edge of the stage, but Pastor John remained in his trance. Several temple members dressed in white suits distributed white bowls similar in size to the one used by Pastor John for his miracle. The audience wept as they emptied their wallets into the bowls. Before long they had filled the bowls with cash.

  Pastor John waved to the crowd as the black curtain closed in front of him, and the lights in the auditorium came back on. The same church music filled the background.

  Michael turned to Rebecca. “He can heal Grandma Mary! I need to go down there and talk with him.”

  Rebecca shook her head. “You shouldn’t go near him.”

  “I’ve got to tell Grandpa about this. This is great! Will you come with me?”

  Rebecca pulled at his arm as he stood. “Stay up here.”

  “I have to do something.”

  Michael pushed through the crowd and down the bleacher steps with Rebecca and Maggie following closely behind him. Trick or not, it was worth the trouble if his grandmother could be cured.

  At the bottom of the bleachers, they stood shoulder to shoulder with the crowd. Michael shoved through to one of the security guards. “I need to talk with the Pastor.”

  “Leave your information with the door attendant.” The guard pointed toward the door.

  Michael turned to Rebecca and stepped back. “Can you ask him to help Grandma?”

  Rebecca approached the security guard with Maggie huddled in close to her. As she spoke, the security guards in front of Michael moved off to the side to stop two hysterical large women from approaching the stage. In that moment, nobody stood between him and the steps leading up to the stage. Without hesitation, he hurried up the wooden steps and ducked behind the black curtain.

  7

  Michael expected someone to stop him after going through the curtain, but he was alone. The golden bowl sat unguarded on the table next to the hospital bed. Pastor John and his assistant were gone, but two guards stood at the other end of the stage, facing away from him. He snuck over to the bowl. A black liquid, like crude oil, pooled in the lower half of the bowl. Maybe it was enough to fill half of his water bottle. He gagged. A stench saturated the air like rotting animals dipped in cow manure and something else… something metallic he couldn’t quite name. If the black liquid was part of the magic trick, then maybe he wouldn’t need the Pastor’s help. He’d be able to do it himself.

  Michael slipped off his backpack and pulled out his bottle of water. He guzzled the water and tipped the gold bowl to the side until it ran over the edge into his bottle. The liquid oozed like melted chocolate. A drop ran down the back of his thumb and his skin tingled even after he’d wiped it off on the white tablecloth. Some of it had run down the side of his bottle, and he wiped off the excess on the tablecloth as well. He filled the bottle halfway and then capped it. Setting the gold bowl down, the black sludge trickled again to the bottom. The weight of the liquid surprised him. Although it sloshed inside the bottle, it would land like a brick.

  The curtain behind the pulpit rustled beside him, and he turned to face an old white-haired woman who stared up at him with wide cloudy blue eyes. “What are you up to?”

  Michael stepped back and struggled to put the bottle in his backpack, but it dropped to the floor. “I need this for my grandmother. She’s sick.”

  “David!” the old woman shrieked. Her body trembled as she yanked the gold bowl to her chest.

  Brother David burst through the curtain and scrutinized Michael before grabbing the bottle off the floor.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” He stood inches from Michael’s face, blocking the old woman. Two security guards then rushed over from the side of the stage, twisting Michael’s arms behind his back. Pain flashed up his shoulders as one of them ripped off his backpack, and the other threw his arm around Michael’s throat to put him in a headlock.

  Michael gasped for air. “That’s for my grandma.”

  “This is not yours,” the old woman said.

  “I’ll take it from here, Bertha,” Brother David said. She glared at Michael and carried the gold bowl away.

  Michael heard Rebecca’s voice calling his name as Brother David and the security guards forced him down the back of the stage and outside through a side door of the auditorium. Silence crashed in as the metal auditorium door slammed shut behind them, and his gasps filled his ears. The guard holding him in a choke hold threw him to the ground, and Michael slammed his knee into the sidewalk. David shook out his backpack, spilling its contents onto the sidewalk next to him. His grandfather’s pistol cracked onto the cement and Michael’s heart sank. His grandfather would be furious he’d stolen the pistol. Another call from the police would devastate his mom too. How could he explain the stolen pistol and the box of live rounds in a church?

  “And what were you planning to do with these?” David asked him.

  “Nothing,” Michael replied. “I told you. I wanted some of that black stuff to help my grandma.”

  At that moment, Pastor John stepped through the auditorium door surrounded by four more security guards, and David showed him the gun and the bullets from Michael’s backpack. Pastor John was silent and peered down at him as David scavenged through his wallet and inspected his ID. “So, Michael Halverson, what are you doing in Stone Hill?”

  “Visiting my grandparents.”

  “Artie and Mary,” Pastor John said. “And why do you have a gun in your backpack? Why did you attempt to steal temple property?”

  He didn’t have an answer for the gun. “I borrowed the gun from my grandpa. And I already told that guy it’s to help my grandma. What is that stuff anyway?”

  “You’re in a lot of trouble,” David said.

  Pastor John took the pistol and inspected it. “Why would you bring a weapon into my holy temple?” he asked, removing the gun clip.

  “It’s not loaded. Believe it or not, I forgot I had it.”

  Pastor John chuckled. “You forgot.” He reloaded the gun clip. “You shouldn’t play with these things. They’re not toys. Who knows when they might accidentally go off?” He waved the gun in a small circle around Michael’s face as if he was drawing a circle around a target, and then he aimed it between Michael’s eyes. “I believe you.” He handed the gun back to David. “It’s just a misunderstanding. I know your grandmother, Mary. I can heal her anytime she wants. She knows that. All she needs to do is come down and join our temple. I know where she lives. I know your grandfather, Artie, well too, and now I know you. Have a nice day, Michael.”

  “We’ll be watching.” David slid the pistol and the boxes of rounds into his suit pocket and no
dded to the security guard holding Michael, who released him with a push. David thrust the empty backpack into his chest.

  “Clean up this mess and go home,” David said.

  Michael returned his cellphone, snacks, and baseball cap to his backpack just as the auditorium door swung open again. Rebecca and Maggie stepped out escorted by two different security guards. Rebecca’s eyes squinted in the sunlight and her arms were wrapped across her chest as she met eyes with Michael. Tears pooled in Maggie’s eyes and streaked down her cheeks. They both sniffled as they stared at the ground. The auditorium door crashed shut and left the three of them alone.

  “What did you do?” Rebecca asked Michael.

  Michael looked away. “I’m sorry.”

  “Why did you sneak back there?” Rebecca asked.

  “I’ll be in so much trouble now,” Maggie moaned.

  “I told you. I wanted to help Grandma Mary.”

  “We all want to help Mary, but you shouldn’t have gone up there,” Rebecca said.

  Maggie turned away, pulling at Rebecca’s hand.

  Michael met Rebecca’s eyes once again. “I’m really sorry. I should just go now.”

  Rebecca nodded. Michael crouched down and put his things back in his backpack.

  “Do you need a ride back home?” Rebecca asked.

  “I’m okay. Sorry for all that.”

  The church music from the auditorium seeped through the walls.

  “We’ll go with you,” Rebecca offered.

  “No, Rebecca…” Maggie said. “We should go home. We’ll get in trouble.”

  “Are you hungry?” Rebecca asked, ignoring Maggie.

  “Yes.”

  “Rebecca,” Maggie ordered. “I need to talk with you.” She pulled on Rebecca’s arm and pulled her away from Michael. They whispered, and Maggie pulled once again on Rebecca’s arm. He caught a few words, but missed most of it. Rebecca smiled and laughed while Maggie grew angrier and angrier. Then Rebecca walked back to Michael, and Maggie followed her a few seconds later without looking at him.

  “Well,” Rebecca said, “we’re going back into the high school because that’s where they set up all the free food, and I’m starving. I doubt they’ll let you back in there, but I’ve got an idea. Follow me.” She turned and walked toward the front of the school, towing Maggie behind her.

 

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