by Miller, Tim
“Charlie, I can save you. You don’t have to be Judas,” he said, reading my thoughts.
“I came to you on bended knee, and you told me I was an abomination. It was in my DNA.”
“You’re right, I did say that. But there is light in you.”
“So you were wrong?”
“No! I needed you to see this for yourself. To see what Lucifer was, and who I was so you could make your own choice. So now is the time. Which side will you choose? The light and come with me? Or the darkness? Once you choose there is no going back.”
I looked at Lucifer who glared at me, expressionless. He didn’t seem to care one way or the other. I couldn’t tell if the Bishop really cared or was just trying to save himself. What if he was right? What if by killing the Bishop I damned myself forever? Then again, I was already damned. If the Bishop was the Christ, he couldn’t lie to me could he? No, but he could tell a half-truth as he had already done.
“Why don’t you call your father to save you,” I asked.
“It doesn’t work like that. I’m on my own when I’m here, you know that. Please Charlie.”
“What happens if you go back having failed your mission?”
“It won’t be pretty, but it’s something I’ll have to deal with. If you come with me, I can save you. I will save you Charlie. You can help me finish my work here. What’s the difference? You already killed all these people. Some of them were my sheep.”
“It’s too late for me.” I said. “I’m an abomination.”
I placed my hand on his forehead and felt my fingers sinking in, touching the edges of his brain. Millenniums of knowledge and experience exploded into my brain. His thoughts, feelings, how long he’d been back on earth, the suffering he went through the first time on earth, how he’d gotten here, his plans. Even visions of the spirit realm came through, my head seared with hot pain as it all soaked in. It became clear to me, he wasn’t the monster I thought he was, but he wasn’t the godly being I thought he was either. He truly thought he was helping mankind. He was an immortal being who had millions of years of understanding beyond any of our own.
I kept my hand on as long as I could. I felt blood running down my nose as the thoughts poured in. I wasn’t going to be able to hold it. I finally let go as we both collapsed to the ground. I lie on my back, trying to catch my breath. The Bishop lay next to me motionless. With all my strength on the Bishop, I had released everyone else in the stadium. Every single one of them collapsed, this time, dead for good. He wasn’t dead yet though, I hadn’t felt the life go out of him. Slowly, I pushed myself to my feet. Lucifer was standing over me, his eyes wide. I put my hand out for him to help me up. He backed away.
“Stay away from me,” he said.
“What? Isn’t that what you wanted?”
“I had no idea it would be like that. Just stay away.”
I heard movement next to me as the Bishop shifted. He was looking up at me.
“Charlie, please,” he said. I punched him square in the nose, knocking him out cold.
“You going to kill him?” Lucifer asked.
“Yes, but I have something special in mind. I’m going to do it my way.”
Chapter 44
The drive in my Explorer was just over four hours. I had the Bishop in the back, duct taped and covered with a tarp. I was headed to a special place I’d found. Before leaving the city, I’d stopped and rented a cargo trailer and made a few other stops as well. This would be one of my best kills yet. I had to make it epic after all, this was no regular sinner I had with me, and he deserved to go out in a special way.
I was on IH-10 headed through southwest Texas. There was nothing out there except for rocks, hills and road. When I found the dirt road, I turned onto the road and followed it as it curved between several large hills and rocks as the sun was beginning to rise above the hills. The road wound up along one of the hills until I reached the spot. It was a nice ridge, overlooking the canyon, but far enough away not to be seen from the road. I put the Explorer in park and hopped out.
In the cargo trailer, I had some large wooden posts, and tools to work with. I pulled out the first post and post hole digger. I began digging, and was only able to get the hole about three feet deep before I hit solid rock. I figured that would be good enough as I dropped the post in. I filled in the dirt around it as well as rocks to keep it firm. This post was about twenty four inches round, so it would hold just fine. I set up a hoist I’d purchased as well as a step ladder and rigged it to the large post.
Once I had that done, I brought the other post out, which was only about twelve inches round, I placed it on the ground in front of the main post. I got the tools out, and then dragged the Bishop out of the Explorer. I cut the duct tape off of him, and then cut his clothes off him until he was in his underwear. Apparently Christ wore boxers, white ones. He could barely stand as I slapped him until he began to awaken.
“What? Where am I?”
“You’re at the end, Yeshua.”
He looked around, swaying on his feet as if he could barely stand.
“So it’s going to end like this again?”
“I thought it would be fitting.” I said as I pushed him to the ground along the post. Grabbing his right hand, I held it along the wooden bar while I drove a metal spike into his wrist with the hammer I’d brought. Blood sprayed everywhere as he screamed. He flailed at the nailed hand with his left hand but the nailed hand wasn’t going anywhere.
I then grabbed the left one and nailed it to the bar as well. More blood and screaming followed. The rocky ground was soaked with fresh blood. Once I had him nailed to the cross bar, I hooked the hoist to the cross bar and then climbed the step ladder behind the large post. I began pulling on the hoist, raising him up off the ground. He continued to scream and moan as I raised him up. It took a lot of effort as the whole rig was quite heavy. Once the cross bar was high enough, I brought it up over the post and lowered it onto the post. There was a notch cut into the top of the base post, so the crossbar dropped right in perfectly.
He let out a scream as I dropped the post down and disconnected the hoist. As I climbed down, I couldn’t help notice how pathetic he looked hanging there. Nowhere near the larger than life, powerful figure I’d seen the night before in the Alamodome. He didn’t even resemble the confident figure in his mansion who'd killed Stanton with the wave of his hand. I grabbed the hammer and spikes and nailed each of his feet to the side of the post. I didn’t cross them over in front like is often seen in pictures and movies with the crucifixion. According to things I’d read about Roman history, they actually drove the nails through the sides of the feet through the bones. He screamed louder as I drove the spikes through each foot. Once done, I stepped back to see him hanging there. This cross was shaped more like a “T” than the crosses you usually see in churches. It’s most likely what the Romans used as it was much more practical.
“Charlie, why have you done this?”
“I thought that was obvious. This seemed a fitting death for you. I begged you for forgiveness and you turned me away. So this is what you get.”
“I underestimated you Charlie.”
“Yes you did.”
“It’s still not too late for you,” he gasped. He had to shift his whole body just to breathe, and I could tell it hurt each time. After a while, his muscles would give out and he’d asphyxiate.
“I’m afraid it is, Yeshua. I never had a chance did I?”
“No. This cannot go unanswered for, you know.”
“I know. But you are not the holy being I learned about are you.”
“No. No I’m not.” He grunted.
“How many of you are there?”
“We are the three. There are others, but not in our realm.” His voice was barely above a whisper.
“What does that mean?”
“It means, it is finished.” He gasped as the life left his body. As he hung limp from the cross, a dark cloud came over covering the sky.
Thunder cracked as the earth began to shake beneath me. The shaking earth knocked me off my feet as a swirling cloud began to form around the Bishop. The cloud enveloped him, spinning faster and faster. It grew so thick; I couldn’t see him through it. There was another clap of thunder as a lightning bolt came from the whirlwind lighting up the sky.
The sky began to clear as the whirlwind turned into a mist, it swirled around me, and then up into the sky above the cross. As it hovered above the cross, the face of a skull formed inside of it, as if it was showing me its face. I tried scoot backward on the ground, but the cloud dissipated and was gone. The Bishop’s body still hung from the cross, lifeless. I already knew what that cloud had been. It was the Holy Ghost, and it wasn’t happy.
Epilogue
Six months later
I sat in a small break room eating my lunch. A few months ago, I’d taken a job at a funeral home in Del Rio, TX. It wasn’t a small town, but wasn’t as big as San Antonio either. The funeral home was family owned, and my speaking experience helped me in handling pre-arrangements as well as presiding over funeral services. After all the recent commotion the past few months, it seemed like a good place to lie low for a while.
The mass death at the Alamodome had made national news. No one could explain it, and fortunately no one caught the events of mine and Lucifer’s on camera. They found seventy thousand dead people there. The feds got involved and explained it as some kind of mass suicide led by a deranged cult leader who chickened out himself at the last minute. There was currently a nationwide manhunt for the Bishop.
They would never find him though. After I crucified him, I stayed with him for four days out in the wilderness. I wanted to make sure he didn’t rise again. There was no need for me to worry though. Within a day, vultures were pecking at his flesh. By the end of the next day, he was nothing but bones. I still remained though to be sure. After four days had passed, I took down his bones and buried them there on the hill and set the cross on fire.
After all that, I left San Antonio and came to Del Rio. My bosses were the Salazar family. They were nice folks, even though they were Catholic. They didn’t mind my Protestant views and I helped run the funeral home. I help with preparing bodies when needed as well. They were impressed at my skills at handling a dead body. I didn’t tell them where or how I learned it obviously.
I hadn’t heard anything from Lucifer or David Davidson since that night either. No telling what they were up to. The one thing I didn’t forget was the Holy Ghost and that horrible face it showed me. It was going to come for me one day. There was no telling when that day would be. It was still hard to believe everything.
I was a supernatural, yet doomed creature. Somehow I had defeated Jesus Christ in his second incarnation as a man, or second coming. Part of me wondered what happened to him once the Spirit took him. Did God punish him for failing? If so, would that be punishing himself? So many questions that I had no clue about, it made the waiting the worst part.
I didn’t have time to think too much about it. I walked outside the funeral home to greet my appointment. A young family was coming in to make arrangements for their grandmother who passed away the night before. They pulled up in a small Toyota and climbed out. It was ten in the morning, but the sky was getting dark. I walked up to the man and shook his hand.
“Hello Mr. Lincoln, good to see you.” I said.
“Thank you Mr. Sims, you too.” He introduced me to his wife, Jennifer and gave me a rundown of what they were looking for as far as the funeral. He looked up at the sky as the clouds moved overhead.
“We should go inside,” he said. “I think a storm is coming.”
“Yes. It definitely is.”
Author's Note
Tim Miller graduated from Bethel College in Mishawaka, IN with a degree in Bible and religious studies. After serving four years in the U.S. Marines, Tim spent six years working as a corrections officer. The Hand of God is Tim's first novel in almost ten years. He currently lives in San Antonio, Texas with his fiance and their children.
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