She was thinking about all of this when, after about a half hour, somewhere in the distance, she thought she heard movement. Five minutes passed and she was certain she heard something coming toward her.
She held her breath and listened.
Was it him? An animal? She didn’t know. Her heart beat faster. It still was too far off, though it sounded like the kicking up of leaves. Some sort of rustling. She took a shallow breath and hoped to God that it wasn’t him. Or that it wasn’t a bear because a bear was a possibility. Black bears were nocturnal and, if threatened, they could become aggressive. In case it was either, she reached for the sharp branch next to her and held it close. The end of it was pointed. If she had the chance, she’d stab him or the animal in the face, and then she’d have to leave the shelter and run in her damned boots in the dark. That would just leave her in more danger because she wouldn’t be able to see and because she’d be exposed to the elements.
The sound was growing closer. She couldn’t tell if it was human or animal. But if it was human, if it was him, wouldn’t he have a flashlight so he could see? She peered through the cracks in the shelter and saw no light. Then the rustling stopped.
In her pocket, her cell phone buzzed.
It startled her to the point that she covered her mouth with her hand. Before it could buzz again and thus alert whoever and whatever was outside, she quickly reached for it, turned it on and read the text message.
“There you are, Cheryl,” it said. “Now, what are you going to do?”
CHAPTER TWEN
TY-TWO
When Kenneth Berkowitz finally found Ted Carpenter, the sun was still up, but it was beginning its slow slide into night.
Before Berkowitz appeared, Ted heard him crashing through the woods and he had to wonder if he was dealing with an idiot. Kenneth himself said earlier that when he started to hear his footfalls, Ted was to call out softly to him. And yet he was making this sort of racket? It was unbelievable to him. He knew better than to behave like this. He knew that making such a loud, aggressive-sounding noise would carry in the woods and potentially tip off Cheryl Dunning to their current location.
So, he’s still pissed, Ted thought. Fine.
With his Glock held at his side, he waited for his partner to show himself, not knowing what to expect, but prepared to act nevertheless should Berkowitz try something stupid.
Ahead of him, he watched trees bend right and left. Leaves shook free and fell in an explosion of color. There was a flash of orange, and then it disappeared. He heard what sounded like someone panting. Carpenter took a step back and furrowed his brow.
Something wasn’t right.
He was about to conceal himself behind a tree when, ten feet away, an elderly man burst through the thick of trees and stopped, stunned, when he faced Carpenter.
He had a rifle in his hand. Blood was spattered across his face. The man was somewhere in his seventies and he looked terrified. In his orange vest and cap, he obviously was here to hunt, but the noise of someone else running close behind him suggested that it was he who was being hunted.
“Help me,” he said. “Please. There’s a man with a gun. A young man. Behind me. Shoot him. My rifle’s locked up. He’s crazy.”
On unsteady legs, the man turned to his right and began to run again. Or try to run. It was a pathetic sight, but Ted Carpenter watched it all play out with fascination. When Berkowitz shot out of the woods and into the clearing with his burly body and enraged face, he looked at Ted, who pointed to his left. Kenneth nodded and aimed his gun at the man, who was limping in his effort to get away. Berkowitz’s gun had a silencer, a scope and it was fitted with a laser for accuracy. He allowed the man a few additional steps of life before he took aim and shot him in the back of the head.
The man went down hard.
Berkowitz walked over to him, pushed him over with his foot, and peered down at his ruined face. Ted joined him, saw the man’s dilated eyes and how the hollow-point bullet had burst through his forehead.
“So, we’ve got hunters onsite?” Ted asked.
“Obviously.”
“Did you see any others?”
“I didn’t.”
“That was quite a commotion you made, but I suppose what matters is that you got him―so long as Cheryl didn’t hear it, which is possible. Let me see your gun.”
“Why?”
“Because yours has a silencer. Mine doesn’t.”
“What do you need it for?”
“Earlier, I was thinking of a quote from Deuteronomy 23:1: ‘No man whose testicles have been crushed or whose organ has been cut off may become a member of the Assembly of God.’”
“Why were you thinking of that?”
“I’m always thinking of scripture. Aren’t you? Hand me your gun. Or I’ll just use my knife. It really doesn’t matter to me. I’m going to make certain this pig sees no part of God.”
“Then use your knife,” Kenneth said. “We need to preserve our ammunition.”
“It that the real reason?”
Before Berkowitz could answer, Ted Carpenter already was on his knees, pulling down the man’s pants, removing his knife from his belt and doing what he had to do to keep this man from becoming a member of the Assembly of God.
CHAPTER TWE
NTY-THREE
When he was finished, Ted stood over the mutilated body and assessed it with Kenneth.
“I suppose animals will come for it,” Ted said while he wiped his bloody hands on the forest floor and then on a handkerchief he kept in his jacket pocket. “They’ll have a feast.”
“And an unfortunate one. Remember Isaiah 66:17: ‘They that sanctify themselves, and purify themselves in the gardens behind one in the midst, eating swine’s flesh, and the abomination, and the mouse, shall be consumed together, saith the Lord.’”
“And from Leviticus: ‘And the swine, though he divide the hoof, and be clovenfooted, yet he cheweth not the cud; he is unclean to you.’”
“Also from Isaiah: ‘For, behold, the Lord will come with fire, and with his chariots like a whirlwind, to render his anger with fury, and his rebuke with flames of fire’.”
The two men stared at one another, each unblinking.
“We’re the fire,” Ted said.
“We’re part of it,” Kenneth agreed.
“Just to serve Him means so much.”
“To me, it means everything.” He looked down at the body. “You did well here.”
“You brought him in and killed him. I just made certain he went to hell.”
“I know we had words earlier, Ted, but I’m not angry with you. I’m just frustrated by the situation. We don’t know where she is.”
“I couldn’t avoid the moose, Kenneth.”
Kenneth moved to speak, but said nothing.
“And you couldn’t have either. It was huge. It was angry. It charged at me. Tell me how you would have avoided it.”
“I would have put my faith in God.”
“But the moose is one of God’s creatures.”
“It’s one of his lesser creatures. Do I need to remind you of Genesis 1:26? ‘And God said, let us make man in our image, after our likeness, and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth.’ You had control over that moose. Through God, you had dominion over it. And yet you ran from it. With the full weight of God in your heart and in your soul, you should have stood firm against it. But you didn’t. Instead, you ran. He would have protected you, you know? There was no need to have run.”
He raised his hand before Ted could respond. “Look, what’s done is done. There’s no time to argue. Can we at least agree on that? Let’s just let this one go. Before long, it will be dark. We’re losing time. We need to get out of here.”
“Where to?”
“Back to the truck. When it turns dark, we can’t use flashlights. If we do, sh
e’ll see us. So, we’ll use the goggles. That way, if we don’t find her before dark, we’ll at least be able to see where we’re going and not get lost. Better yet, because they’re equipped with infrared, we’ll be able to see her if she’s hiding somewhere. To ease your mind, we’ll also see any animal that might come around us.”
As they left the dead man and the area, Ted Carpenter followed Kenneth Berkowitz out of the woods, fully aware that by the way Berkowitz was treating him, he was actively positioning himself as the leader. Ted was, at that moment, literally following him out of the woods. This was a shift from how they usually worked. Before this job, they always worked as a team. They worked well together, played off each other’s strengths. Mistakes had been made by both man in the past, but they never had been singled out and ridiculed as Kenneth had just done to him. This was something new, but why the change?
Arrogance.
It was too blatant to ignore. He was twice Kenneth’s age, and yet he was disrespecting him. He recalled a verse from 1 Peter 5:5: “Likewise, you who are younger, be subject to the elders.”
It was right there. He thought of it earlier, he knew Kenneth knew that verse, and yet he was going against it. He was sinning and the sin was against Him. It infuriated him. He needed Kenneth to get him to the truck, but then he would have to take charge, regardless of the costs, until he felt Kenneth was back on track and they could work as a team again.
He watched the young man move the branches aside in front of him, not holding them for him but allowing them to snap back with such force that they nearly struck him.
This is how Ted’s father was―a brute and a bully. He’d taken it from him for years before he decided he no longer could take it any longer and cut his throat in front of the bathroom mirror.
He didn’t want to do that to Kenneth, but if he continued to sin and offend his elders, he’d at least have to consider it. Or talk to him about it first. Maybe a good, strong talk would bring him back in line. He’d remind Kenneth of Proverbs 23:26: “My son, give me your heart, and let your eyes observe my ways.”
And then he thought of Ephesians 6:4, if only because he considered himself something of a father figure to Kenneth: “Fathers, do not provoke your children to anger, but bring them up to the discipline and instruction of the Lord.”
So depending on how their talk went, discipline, at the very least, is what it might take.
CHAPTER TWE
NTY-FOUR
When they reached the truck, daylight had waned. But they made it through the woods. They came upon no other hunters, no other animals. They were safe now. They were in the clear.
The road was quiet. The truck looked as if it hadn’t been tampered with. Everything appeared good and right. God was with them.
God also was the reason they chose this place that was so far away from anywhere, it was barely there at all. Monson, Maine. A place where you could drag a whore into the woods and let her fend for her life until the decision was made to end it.
But the woods weren’t all that Ted Carpenter imagined them to be. The moose, for instance―he never saw that coming. And Lord knows, he never thought he’d have to run from one, only to get lost. Getting lost surprised him because they had studied the woods so carefully. And then there was the hunter, bursting through the trees, only to be killed by Kenneth and sent to hell by him.
They were being challenged as a team, and he personally was being challenged by Kenneth, who now was opening up the large plastic storage box that was at the front of the truck bed and removing from it the tactical night vision goggles they’d wear when it got dark. He watched the young man before him and wished that, in his youth, he had been as similarly focused when it came to doing God’s work. He respected him on that level. He just needed to bring him around and let him know that, as God saw it, it was he who was in charge.
“Kenneth,” he said, “can we have a word?”
“We don’t have time for a word, Ted. We need―”
“We have time, Kenneth. I need to have a word with you now.”
The direct tone of his voice made Kenneth look up at him. He met his eyes―those ice blue eyes framed by the thick dark lashes that caused every woman to melt when he approached them at bars like The Grind―and held his gaze with an unflinching authority Kenneth hadn’t seen in them before.
Generally, Ted’s eyes were without emotion―at least that’s what his mother used to say about him when she was alive (“They look dead to me. You look dead to me. What’s wrong with you?”).
It’s also what some of his teachers used to say to her. They’d tell her that they were worried about him. No friends. No social activities. Just him and his worn-out Bible, the reading of which took precedent over school work. Since his mother was a God-fearing woman, she protected him when it came to his Bible studies, but she also told him that learning math and English and history also were important.
“You’ve got to make time for all of it, Teddy,” she said to him one day, when another concern arrived from one of his teachers.
“Yes, Mama.”
“Just do enough to get some average grades―nothing spectacular because the good Lord knows you don’t have anything spectacular in you―then you can get out of there and become the holy-rolling preacher we all know you want to be. You can gather your flock then. You might even be happy then. Happy enough that it will show in your eyes.”
“Yes, Mama.”
And that’s what he did. He graduated with a 2.1 GPA, which was enough to get him out of high school with a solid D average and start thinking about his future.
In front of him, Kenneth shifted. “What do you need to say, Ted?”
“That you’ve been sinning.”
“That I’ve been what?”
“Sinning. You’ve been sinning. I don’t think you realize it because things are tense again, but you’ve been sinning. You need that brought to your attention and you need to correct it before it’s too late.”
“Too late for what?”
Ted pointed a finger toward heaven. “Too late for Him.”
Kenneth screwed up his face at him. “What are you talking about? How have I been sinning?”
“I’m your elder.”
“So what if you are?”
“What does the scripture say about your elders, Kenneth?”
His face went blank for a minute. The Bible said plenty about elders. Ted could tell he was trying to decide where he had made an offense, but he wasn’t willing to wait for him to figure it out.
“You’re trying to lead this operation―you said you were the ‘Chosen One,’ whatever the hell that means―when we’ve only ever worked together as a team. You’re trying to establish yourself here, trying to push me aside and take control, but I won’t have it. 1 Peter 5:5 says that ‘Likewise, you who are younger, be subject to the elders.’ Have you forgotten that? By rising up and trying to run the show, by having an edge in your voice when you speak to me in utter disrespect, you are sinning. For your soul’s sake, I suggest you repent. Because unless you repent, you will perish.”
“I disagree. I don’t see how I’ve sinned.”
“Are you arguing with me, or with Him? There’s a big difference, Kenneth, and I’m not the only one watching. You know what you’ve done, you know the tone of voice you used with me when I got lost in the woods. You also know how you’ve treated me since. Get on your knees and repent. Bow down now and repent or perish. Listen to Acts 3:19: ‘Repent, then, and turn to God, so that your sins may be wiped out, that time of refreshing may come from the Lord.’ Are you hearing me? Are you hearing Him? Your choice, boy, but I pray you make the correct one, because I’d hate to work without you.”
And Kenneth Berkowitz, who never had bowed to anyone except to God, thought of what Ted said to him and came to the conclusion that he was right. He had sinned against his elder. He had spoken to him with a condescending edge. He lifted his head to the sky and closed his eyes, which became moist after
a moment of shame and regret.
Sometimes, he felt that all of this was too much, too tiring and taxing, but he had to believe that what he was doing with Ted was right and worth the effort. If he didn’t believe that, then what was the point? What was the use of doing any of this?
Just as Ted had lost his way in the woods, he was on the cusp of losing his way with God. He put his hand on Kenneth’s shoulder, nodded at him and dropped to his knees.
In the distance, there was a disturbance in the air.
“I’m so sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize to me, Kenneth,” Ted said, turning to his left and looking down the road, where he thought he could hear something, though he wasn’t exactly what. “It’s not about me. You need to admit your guilt and promise to God that you will never repeat the sin again. Are you willing to do that?”
“Of course, I am.” He started to weep.
Now Ted understood the sound. A car was coming in their direction.
“I didn’t mean any of it,” Kenneth said. “I’m just caught up, that’s all. I know we work well together. I’ll never do it again. I promise. And I do repent. I do.”
“Kenneth, I need you to stand up.”
But Kenneth didn’t hear him. He was in touch with God. He was in the in between. He was on a higher plane and his soul was dizzy from it. “I know I did wrong by You today. I’m so sorry to You and to Ted. Please forgive me, Father.”
“You need to stand up. Now.”
“What Ted and I have created has helped to cleanse the world of its whorish sinners. We’ve made a difference. Not nearly enough, for sure, but we’ve done things that no one has done and we will soldier on.”
Soon, the car would crest the hill far off to their left. “Get up,” he said to Kenneth. “Get up!”
You Only Die Twice Page 8
