by Stan Mason
‘Our plan?’ rattled his father. ‘Who’s in it with you?’
‘I meant my plan,’ corrected young Huntley biting his lip for the error. ‘It’s imperative that we act in order to rid this country of crime.’
‘You do realise that vigilante groups are beyond the law,’ exclaimed his parent. ‘They may wound, mutilate or even kill people in their effort to do what you suggest they do.’
‘The Bible states an eye for an eye. The Arabs cut off the left hand of a thief. If people have to die to establish peace and rid us of crime then so be it.’
Huntley senior gave up the reproach, shaking his head solemnly. ‘I only hope you know what you’re doing,’ he said finally, sitting in an armchair and turning on the television.
At that moment the programme was interrupted by a newsflash.
‘Early this morning, five people were killed in a battle between vigilantes and a gang in Chorley, Manchester,’ commented the newsreader, ‘when a fight broke out in the city. Shots were fired and it’s believed that three people of a local gang and two vigilantes died as a result. More details of the incident will follow in the news at noon.’
‘It’s started already,’ I ventured to young Huntley. ‘We’re making inroads even at this early stage. You’d better book Wembley stadium for the next stage of the campaign. Tell your father that it’s up to him to pay the bill.’
The venue at Wembley was a kind of Mexican stand-off. The police were there in their hundreds but they had been ordered not to arrest the speaker. Had they done so, it would have made young Huntley a martyr and induced thousands of people to follow his cause. They had been told not to do anything but to let him speak and maintain crowd control. The stadium was packed with eighty thousand people as I had predicted earlier and young Huntley walked on to the stage in the centre of the field to start his oration.
‘Friends,’ he began, ‘world peace has already started to come to England. A few days ago, five people were killed in Manchester in conflict. Two were apostles following my tenets; three were gangsters who will no longer perpetrate crimes against the public. Better still, we captured two other gang members and obtained a massive amount of information which allowed our apostles to dismantle not only that gang but one other. Sadly, two of our members are dead and we owe it to them to continue to fight the war. May we have one minute of silence as a token of respect to our dead colleagues.’
The stadium fell silent and it became quite clear that the quest was becoming a major issue. By this time, young Huntley had become extremely comfortable with his speech and he spoke with confidence and assuredness. I stared at him in awe, recognising that he was becoming a major celebrity in such a short space of time. The public warmed to the young man. They looked to him as a leader in difficult times and, even more importantly, they began to trust him. In addition, they realised that the cause he pursued was achievable and that it would change their lives for the better.
The police were helpless in the situation. They maintained their vigilance with regard to the crowd but did nothing to prevent the speaker from delivering his oration in full. The world was full of martyrs. England didn’t need to suffer one more. The meeting was one of great success, with the applause continuing for over five minutes at the end. People poured forward to enrol in the cause, promising to establish vigilante groups wherever they lived. It appeared that, at last, the public had control of the situation themselves. They would deal with local crime instead of the police and the Government, together with all the Ministers, knew that they had lost the battle. However, it was a policy that moved in their favour although they denied its import, refusing to admit the success that it brought.
We left the stadium on a high, feeling on top of the world. There is nothing as inspiring as success and we had achieved it. At that moment, thousands of people were taking to the streets to combat the criminals. There would be broken limbs and black eyes but it was all to the good of the community involved.
The following morning, young Huntley opened the multitude of post showering through the letter-box and, after sifting through it, he showed me one particular letter. It read:
Dear Mr. Huntley,
We attended your meeting in Leeds and were ext-
remely impressed with your speech. We live at
Gosford, a small town on the outskirts of the city
and we’ve been plagued for years by drug-dealers
and gangs of teenage hooligans who in the past
terrorised the neighbourhood. After listening to
you, we appointed an apostle who’s in charge of
eighteen vigilantes and we took the law into our
Own hands. The four drug-dealers, who the
police could not arrest through lack of evidence,
are in hospital. Two with broken arms and two
with broken legs. We didn’t need evidence to
put them out of action. The teenage gang are
still intact with the exception of numerous
bruises and a few black eyes. They will not roam
the streets, terrorise people, or vandalise any-
thing ever again. Of that I assure you. This
leave us to thank you for your words of wis-
dom because we are now able to live in a comm-
unity that’s relatively free from crime. If we
catch any thieves or burglars, we know exactly
how to treat them in the future.
Yours sincerely, K.L. Liddiard.
‘Doesn’t that give you a good feeling of success,’ I advanced encouraging him even further although my effort fell on deaf ears. ‘If that kind of spirit is carried on throughout the country, you’ll have won hands down.’
The daily newspaper was thrust through the door a few moments later and he opened it to read the headlines. ‘POLICE HUMILIATED IN LIVERPOOL’
‘What’s that all about?’ I enquired with interest.
Young Huntley read the article and then turned to me slowly. ‘It seems that the fifty police clashed with a hundred-and- fifty vigilantes in Liverpool last night. The vigilantes had paint-ball guns and they fired them at the police painting their uniforms and faces in a variety of colours. The police eventually retreated covered in paint and left them to do whatever they wanted. You’re right. We are winning the war.’
I suddenly felt a thought pass through my mind urging me to return to Heaven.
‘I think it’s time I left you,’ I told young Huntley sadly. ‘You might say I’m being recalled.’
‘When will you return?’ he asked with a concerned expression on his face.
‘I think my work is completed here,’ I told him brightly. ‘You can conduct the cause on your own now. As such, I may never come back.’
His resolve seemed to weaken for a moment and then he recovered his composure. ‘You’re right,’ he said, considering that success was in his grasp. ‘I can do it myself.’
I nodded appreciatively that he didn’t break down or whimper at my departure. He was now a celebrity in his own right and could take his place as the leader of World Peace. It had a long way to go yet but it was
definitely on the right track.
In a flash, I was back in Heaven facing the Centurion in a small room. I was expecting joy and commendation for the success of the operation on Earth but once again I was to be greatly disappointed.
The Centurion stared at me with an odd expression which I thought to be quite strange. Instead of a smile he looked quite sour.
‘What’s wrong now?’ I ventured, wondering why he had assumed such an adverse attitude.
‘I’m very disappointed with you, Jeremiah,’ he muttered with an element of reproach in his voice., ‘and so is the angelic hierarchy. We’ve been monitoring your actions and you fail
ed miserably.’
‘Hold on a moment!’ I interjected sharply, stopping him in his flow. ‘How can you think that I failed? Crime is being eliminated all over England. It’ll spread through Great Britain and probably to the rest of the world.’
‘Is that your only excuse?’ accused the Centurion.
‘Excuse!’ I ranted. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Let me tell you that your actions have put back the mission by some two thousand Earth years on account of your meddling.’ There was anger in his voice and I began to tremble with fear without knowing what I had done wrong.
‘I don’t understand,’ I returned weakly, feeling a lot of the power drain from my spirit because I knew that he was going to tell me why I had failed.
He paused for a few moments to slow down his anger before beginning his explanation. ‘You were given a specific mission to integrate all religious beliefs on Earth. Instead you disobeyed the rules and decided, on your own account, to reduce the mission to end crime. That was not what the angelic hierarchy charged you to do. It was not the action they desired. Subsequently, as a result of your failure, to do what you had been asked to do, although crime will be eliminated in parts of the Earth, religions continue to divide nations and the people who believe in them. Now can you see how miserably you failed?’
I dwelt for a short while on his reproach and thought about the mission which had been given to me. I had been sent to that room in Heaven which contained a multitude of scrolls on different religions and, to my dismay, I realised that I had embarked on a completely different exercise. I knew now that I had failed despite all the effort I had made to help young Huntley in his quest. I didn’t truly blame myself for the error. Had I not been sent down to save Huntley senior in the past with regard to his investment in the Showtime Extravaganza, I would never have known about the birth and destiny of young Huntley. It was an incident which had diverted me from the main aim.
I recovered my poise with some difficulty and looked long and hard at the Centurion.
‘Can I retrieve the situation by starting all over again?’ I asked him with a great deal of humility.
‘It’s too late for that now,’ he retorted. ‘Once a spirit has failed in a mission they can’t return to the original status. You must pay the penalty.’
‘What does that mean?’ I enquired with a high degree of fear.
‘Failure entails punishment,’ he went on callously.
I resented his comment and assumed a bold stance. ‘After achieving success in eliminating crime in England on Earth I don’t think that’s fair. I have to admit that I change the nature of the mission but I did my best in the circumstances.’
‘It’s not for you to decide what’s fair and what is not!’ he countered angrily. ‘You’ll do what you’re told and obey the rules. On this occasion you failed to do so.’
‘I’ve been to the Pit of Desolation, the Desert of Ice, and on the Revolving-Twisting machine,’ I complained bitterly. ‘Where does it all end?’
‘It ends when you learn to obey the rules,’ he replied savagely. ‘Somehow you don’t seem to understand.’
‘But I always try to do so,’ I bleated.
‘Except that you rarely do,’ he uttered sadly. ‘You were given your last mission at the mercy of the Angelic Court. You cannot expect to go free for failure to comply with the order given to you.’
I decided it was the moment to resist and I faced the Centurion audaciously. My attitude was brash and quite caustic and I felt I had good reason to be so. All the work I had carried out in Heaven had been of great use to the angelic hierarchy yet I was still a Seraph... still regarded as an inferior spirit. It was time that situation stopped!
‘I resent the attitude of the angelic hierarchy,’ I told him boldly. ‘They’re singling me out! Picking on me! Using bullying tactics!’
‘How dare you challenge your superiors!’ he ranted with fury in his voice. ‘How dare you!’
Without hesitation, he held his hands out in front of him and looked upwards as if to gain information from a higher authority.
I reflected that my predicament had been caused by my misdemeanours in my past life on Earth. There were pundits who declared that one would have to face punishment in Heaven for the evil deeds one committed when alive. Most people on Earth were too busy to listen to the words of wisdom. Well... events took their own course. Everyone had a destiny which took them along like a steam train along the track of life. In my case, I was desperately at fault for crossing the line. Now that I had the opportunity to recall those evil deeds, I recognised they had all been so unnecessary. Terry Wilkins was the history and biology teacher at the school where I worked. I had always disliked him for his snide attitude and his boorish behaviour. However, I had always admired the female French teacher called Jeannette Dubois. She was tall, slim, with auburn hair and she had a pretty face. The cleft of her ample bosom was always in evidence and, in truth, I wanted more than ever to seduce her despite the fact that I was married to another woman.
One day, I caught Wilkins flirting with her in the staff room. I knew that Jeannette had borrowed twenty pounds from the petty cash box temporarily and I was so enraged that Wilkins had the nerve to flirt with the woman I fancied that I stormed into the Headmaster’s office falsely accusing Wilkins of having stolen the money from petty cash.
The incident soon mushroomed out of control of its own accord. Wilkins was immediately suspended, despite denying the accusation, and he was dismissed shortly afterwards. I commiserated his fate with Mademoiselle Dubois, without telling her that I had been responsible, and we comforted each other to the extent that we became tactile with each other and began a love affair. We met three times each week in a room at a local hotel where we made passionate love. It took three months for our emotion and enthusiasm for each other to fade away. At that point, as I was leaving her in that hotel room for the last time, I foolishly admitted that I had been the person who had reported Wilkins to the Headmaster which lit the fuse to the firework. Mademoiselle Dubois went absolutely crazy at the admission, striking me and shouting abuse at the top of her voice. It was sufficient for her to telephone my wife to tell her all about our affair which heralded the death of my marriage.
I faced Jeannette the following night complaining that contacting my wife about our affair had been evil and malicious. She countered by reminding me that I had made a false accusation which had ruined a fellow teacher’s career. As far as she was concerned, it was the case of an eye for an eye. We argued loudly and, in a fury, I climbed into my car to drive home. My mind dwelt on my ruined marriage and I failed to see a pedestrian standing on the kerb at the edge of a zebra crossing waiting for me to pass. It was extremely dark as the bulb of the light for the crossing was not working. My concentration had been affected by the argument with Jeannette and I drove slightly onto the kerb striking the pedestrian down, dragging him some ten yards before the car came to a halt. I should have stopped to find out how badly he had been injured but in my poor frame of mind I failed to do so.
I realised now that if it hadn’t been for those incidents, my life would have been pristine and I would almost certainly have avoided most of the problems I suffered after my death.
In an instant I found myself transported from the room with the Centurion to a large prison cell. It waas about twenty feet by ten feet with four small chairs inside. There was a wall on one side with thick iron bars on three sides around the cage. There was no door to the cell and I went to the location where it should have been to stare at the pitch darkness all round. I looked about me dolefully noticing that there were three other spirits in the cell with me.
‘Welcome to Hell!’ greeted one of them in an American accent as I appeared without warning.
4
‘Where are we?’ I asked, looking around to get my bearings.
; ‘You’re in jail, man,’ explained my fellow spirit. ‘Ah presume you’ve had no trial either.’
‘Not for this situation,’ I returned. ‘But I did defend myself a while ago in Angelic Court.’
‘Well ah be damned!’ he retorted with surprise. ‘Ah wish ah had the chance to do that but that’s the way it goes, man. Beggars can’t be choosers. They tell you you’ve broken the rules and you end up here. No trial, no sentence, just jail.’
I stared at the other two spirits sitting on chairs but they remained silent ignoring me.
‘Don’t take any notice of them,’ relayed my fellow spirit. ‘They’re dumb asses. They don’t say nuthin’.’
‘I’m Jeremiah,’ I advanced casually. ‘What do they call you?’
‘Ah don’t have no name,’ he replied easily. ‘When ah was alive, ah was called Dave. But here I’m just a no-no.’
‘How long have you been incarcerated here?’ I asked.
‘Man, ah like the way you talk. Incarcerated. Ah would never have thought of that word. You know there’s no time here,’ came the reply. ‘Everythin’ just happens.’
‘In Heaven you mean,’ I went on.
‘Why do you say that?’ he uttered sharply. ‘Is this the place they call Heaven? Ah don’t think so, man.’
‘Why do you say that?’ I enquired waiting patiently with interest for his reply.
‘Do you really think this is Heaven? he continued.
‘All right,’ I retorted. ‘Give me some facts.’
‘No, man. You give me some facts!’
‘Okay,’ I returned quickly. ‘I met the Cosmic Joker which i wasn’t supposed to do and I almost came into contact with the Soul Gatherer who would have taken my soul away.’
‘And you think they’re part of Heaven,’ he cut in sharply. ‘Ah don’t think so, man. No way!’
‘I also came to a high black wall. I couldn’t see what was on the other side because a force prevented me from doing so.’
