Solomon's Porch

by Wid Bastian

  “Uh oh,” Peter said.

  “Oh yeah. Next thing I know he waves his hand over me and I pass out. Or do I? I’ve never really been sure. I don’t know how, but while my body remained in that bar, my soul was taken somewhere else.”

  “Let me guess, he made you listen to one of your sermons over and over again,” Saul said, smirking.

  “Nope. He took me to hell.”

  For Saul Cohen this was a very serious subject because he knew a few things about the residents of that principality.

  “Took you to hell? You mean literally where Satan lives? Good Lord in heaven! That’s my worst nightmare.”

  “Let me say this, Saul. I didn’t see a sign saying, “Welcome to Eternal Damnation.” Didn’t have to. Did I see a side show or the main play? Couldn’t tell you that either, and I sure as he … , sorry, heck don’t want to know if there is someplace worse.”

  Kenny’s tone and body language now abruptly changed. Gone was the swagger, the cheekiness that only a moment ago seemed an inseparable part of who he was. This transition did not go by unnoticed.

  “Kenny, take a minute. Don’t feel like you have to tell us anything more if you don’t want to. We’re here for you, we will listen. You are among brothers now.”

  Peter’s heart was filled with compassion for his new friend, because he knew from first hand experience just how intense and life-altering one of Gabriel’s visions could be.

  For a few minutes, neither Kenny nor anyone else said a word. They just sat there watching the parade of the camp pass by, people going about their business on a normal afternoon completely oblivious to what was happening on the porch.

  Then Kenny slowly raised his head and Peter removed the arm he’d placed around his shoulder.

  “I need to tell you guys what I saw. As God is my witness, what I’m about to share with you men is the truth. In the many years since this happened I have told no one, and I mean no one, about this. It’s about time that I did.”

  Once again, Saul whispered to Peter. “Keep your guard up. The nasties are watching. I don’t think they want you to hear this, or maybe they’re just scared. I know I am.”

  “Anything coming at us?” Peter asked.

  “No, not yet. But they are in a snit. Buzzing around the porch like a bunch of pissed off bees.”

  Before he began, Kenny made the sign of the cross and said the Lord’s Prayer. Peter, Malik, and Saul laid hands on him and offered a confirming prayer of protection.

  “First thing I remember is being carried away by some force, invisible yet very tangible. The hand of God? Maybe that best describes it. For a moment out of the corner of my eye I could still see myself sitting in the bar looking completely at ease and normal. Gabriel was there too and he was talking to me. Yet I wasn’t really there anymore, and I was getting farther away every moment.”

  Kenny paused and nervously looked around.

  “You guys think I’m nuts, don’t you. Crazy old Kenny, the drugs have finally destroyed his mind. That’s what you’re all thinking, isn’t it.”

  “Actually, that could not be farther from the truth, Kenny. Your testimony is in fact being validated at this very moment.” Saul offered this analysis and then stood, turned around, and took in a three hundred and sixty degree view of the immediate area.

  “They are all around us now, Peter. Doesn’t look good. No sir, not too good at all.” Saul was close to panic. He realized that whenever evil congregated in such large numbers, very bad things could happen, usually to him.

  “Steady. Hang on, Saul. If they’re not attacking yet, maybe they just want to watch. Faith, brother, have faith.” Peter knew he was the glue that held his men together. Regardless of his own fears, it was his job to be strong and confident, to be their anchor in the storm.

  Kenny, thrilled to be accepted and not to be considered delusional, ignored Saul and Peter’s exchange and continued.

  “I start to feel, how best can I describe it? Like a corpse. My skin went not just clammy, but ice cold. My heart stopped beating. I had the sensation of being drawn downward, but I could make out nothing by sight. A whirlwind of grays and blacks surrounded me. It was like being in the middle of a blender filled with ashes and muddy ice.

  “Each moment that passed brought me deeper and deeper into a state of depression, a hopelessness beyond all hopelessness. All the while this force, the hand of God as I choose to call it, has me firmly in its grip. I pray that He won’t drop me and leave me here.”

  “Then all at once it hits me. I must be dead. I’m not back in some bar in Florida, I’m dead and going to hell to pay for my sins.

  “You cannot possibly imagine what that feels like. Trying to come to grips with the concept of being damned for all time. It’s beyond all pain, fear, remorse, sadness, or anything human. God have mercy! Pray for the souls who suffer in hell!”

  Kenny needed another minute.

  Saul, on the other hand, couldn’t be more anxious for Kenny to get on with it.

  “Saul, talk to me,” Peter said, himself hyper alert and anxious, knowing that the enemy was close by and menacing.

  “You don’t want to know,” Saul replied, his voice and body both wobbling. “I don’t think anyone is left in hell, they’re all here.”

  “Peter, what is he talking about?” Kenny was now paying close attention to what was being said around him.

  Peter dodged the question and instead gave an instruction. “Kenny, please. Don’t stop. Tell us the rest, brother. Our time might be running short.”

  Kenny set his curiosity aside for the moment and did what he was told.

  “I start to slow down, or the world around me does, I’m not sure which, and I see a landscape below me. It’s dark and desolate. It looks like something out of an old war movie; a bombed out city of nothing but ruins, only far more final, if you will. I had the sense that no one would ever rebuild this city; as it was, so it shall always be.

  “Then the hand takes me closer to the ground. I start to see people everywhere moving amidst the rocks, the broken walls, and other chunks of rubble. What are they doing? I ask myself.

  “After a bit it becomes apparent. They’re hiding. They scatter like cockroaches as I pass by, clearly terrified. But they’re not afraid of me. Soon enough I found out what was going on.

  “The hand takes me to a spot on the ground and sets me down. I want you to grasp how horrible this place is. It is completely devoid of goodness, of anything worthy. The dirt, the rocks, the debris, everything is gray or dull black. A sadness, a palpable despair, permeates everything there.”

  “Peter, please, tell Kenny to hurry up,” Saul begged, sounding every bit like a man staring into the lights of an oncoming train.

  “I look down and what do I see? I see me. Twenty years younger, but me. My eyes are bloodshot. I’m shaking, rail thin, and ghostly white. Tormented.”

  “As I’m trying to come to grips with the idea of being present along with my damned self, I hear screaming and the sound of a million souls scurrying for cover. In the distance I see it coming, a black, putrid mist enveloping everything in sight.

  “The mist surrounds me and the other me. To say that it carried the stench of death does not do it justice. It was the foulest of foul things. Imagine the smell of decaying bodies and excrement rotting for days in the jungle heat. Words do not exist, I mean … ”

  “Peter, do something now, for the love of Christ!” Saul was in agony and he wasn’t alone. Across from the porch are the bocce ball courts and the horseshoe pits. Ten inmates, who moments earlier were casually amusing themselves, were doubled over in pain and heaving their guts out. From the library they heard three men screaming about being attacked by “purple snakes.” One poor inmate, who happened to stray too close to the action, was flopping around like a carp on an anthill not fifteen feet away from the porch.

  “What in the name of our Lord?” Kenny said, not believing his own eyes.

  “Brother, finish! We wi
ll never be intimidated by the servants of hell. Greater is He that is in you than he who is in the world. Remember that. Hold fast to that truth.”

  Kenny didn’t hesitate. He too now figured the sooner he was through, the better.

  “The stench and the oppression brought by the black mist had a purpose. Somehow it carried with it visions. I believe that these visions are unique to each soul that endures them, but they have a common theme.

  “In my case I saw a wife, the girl of my dreams in every way, and four children. We had a nice, but modest home and lived productive lives. I’m given glimpses of things; birthdays, baptisms, ball games, homework. A rather fast but full sampling of many years of experiences. I’m brought to a church, clearly my church, and I see a well-cared for group of a couple of hundred families. A momentary feeling of peace and settledness lessens my agony. I knew that I was seeing things as they could have been, as they should have been, had I chosen to live an obedient, godly life.

  “Then, as quick as it came, bliss vanishes. Now I see the woman of my dreams being beaten by an ugly brute of a man. She has needle tracks on her arms, weighs maybe ninety pounds. My kids, two of them anyway, are watching on in horror.

  “I’m moved away from that nightmare and forced to endure a rapid succession of others; children being abused, a suicide, a murder, a rape. All of these tragedies are happening to people who could have been in my church, who would have been safe under my care.

  “Somehow I understand that these second visions of pain and tragedy are in fact reality. I’m being shown a ‘spiritual movie,’ for lack of a better term, of the damage caused by my sin, by my willful rejection of God.

  “The mist passes. The visions end. Looking down I see myself. I look up and say, ‘It’s never the same when the black mist comes. Different every time. I’m not alive, but I cannot die. God will not come to this place. Please help me, oh dear God, please help me!’

  “My soul, if I still have one, because at that point I wasn’t sure of anything, cries out for mercy. But I know that He is not coming. It is in fact the absence of God that creates damnation. There can be nothing more condemning than the unchangeable reality of hell.

  “Before I have a chance to say anything else to my other self, I’m back in the blender again. This time I feel like I’m going “up,” although, like I said, up and down seem like ridiculous concepts in that universe. With each passing second I’m feeling better, hope is returning in stages. I realize that I am not yet sentenced. Don’t ask me how, but I know that what I have seen is both real and imaginary, but definitely not complete.”

  “I wake up, reappear, whatever, back in the bar with Gabriel. Everyone and everything is exactly as it was the instant I ‘left.’ If I ever left, that is. Gabriel is looking at me with this menacing kind of scowl.

  ‘Kenneth,’ he says, ‘you have openly mocked God. Used His name to do great evil. You have no excuse. If God were to see fit to take you right now, you know where you would go, don’t you?’

  I ask him, ‘Where I just was?’ All he does is nod his head. By the clock on the wall I’ve only been in the bar for less than five minutes.”

  “How are we doing, Saul?” Peter asked, half expecting the ground to open up and frogs to start raining down at any moment.

  “Believe it or not, holding steady,” Saul answered, sounding much calmer. “The ghoulies aren’t in attack mode, or at least not yet. Who knows, maybe they like hearing about home. But as far as I’m concerned, the sooner we’re done here the easier I’ll breathe.”

  “I never doubted that my vision was authentic, from that moment until this one. Sitting there at that table for the first time in my life I prayed honestly, earnestly, and simply, ‘Lord Jesus, have mercy on me a sinner. Give me the wisdom and strength to do Your will.’

  “Led by the Spirit, I went to work as an interpreter for a group of free legal aid lawyers down in Miami. Spent my days and nights trying to help people in need, both at work and in my free time. While I know that I cannot possibly atone for my sins through good works, as we are all saved by grace, I wanted God to know how serious I was about doing things His way, about being His obedient bondservant.”

  “How did you end up here then?” Peter asked.

  “About a year ago, a U.S. Marshal shows up at my office. I recognized him immediately.”

  “Gabriel?”

  “In the flesh. Do angels have flesh? Have to ask him that sometime. Anyway, he says the Lord needs me to work for him at a Federal prison. My time has come, he says. He asks if I’m ready. I say yes.

  “I’m then served by an angel of the Lord with a two count indictment for marijuana distribution. For once in my life I’m innocent. Isn’t that cute? Evidently one of our firm’s clients claimed I was part of his drug ring.”

  “Knowing this is the will of God for my life, I accept a plea agreement, and in no way fight my conviction. This morning I self-surrendered, now I’m here with you gentlemen.”

  “Thank God,” Saul said.

  “Amen, brother. We are blessed to have Kenny with us,” Peter agreed.

  “I’ll give that an amen too, but what I’m really thankful for is that the story is over. Our friends seem to be losing interest rapidly.”

  “Peter, will you please explain to me what Saul is talking about?” Kenny felt like the only kid in the room who wasn’t in on the gossip.

  “Later. There are still a couple of things that aren’t quite clear to me, Kenny. You said you saw Gabriel last night, is that right?”

  “Yep. At a motel in Georgetown. Brought me an extra large pepperoni pizza, twenty hot wings, and a huge soda. Didn’t even have to tip him.”

  “And?”

  “And he wanted me to be sure to tell you that all is well, God is pleased. As I said, he remembers you always. His message for me was a bit different. I am to be cautious, to go slow, and rely on you, Peter. Now, I’ve had the same dreams all of you have, I get the general picture as to why we are here. Gabriel said he wanted me to be aware that I am vulnerable and that I will be attacked. I’m not completely sure what that means, but it has to be true.”

  “We will take the good angel’s advice and watch you closely, Kenny,” Peter said, already fully intending to do just that regardless of Gabriel’s instructions. “One more question. You said that you worked as an interpreter in Miami. What languages do you speak other than English?”

  “All of them.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard right, all of them.”

  “Brother,” Peter was trying to be as open and as positive as possible, “how can that be? No one on earth can speak every language.”

  “Wrong. I can. After I came back to life in that bar in Key West I soon realized I had been given this gift. Over the years I’d picked up some Spanish, French, Aramaic, and Hebrew, clearly I had an aptitude for it, but I never studied any of them seriously. Now? Well, as best as I can describe it, the Lord has turned me into sort of a ‘universal translator.’ Ever see Star Trek? I’m a human form of that little machine they carried around so they could talk to the aliens.”

  “What about reading and writing? How many lang … ”

  “All of them.”

  “Should have guessed.”

  Before they had any more time to explore this latest twist, an out of breath and freaked out Gail McCorkle ran up to the porch.

  “What in the world are you boys doing out here?” Gail asked, managing to speak in between gulps of air. “Do you have any idea what’s going on inside? In the kitchen, the deep fryer exploded. Then every knife in the place starts flying around, thirty of them are now stuck in the ceiling. Black slime is oozing out from all the toilets, and I just had a man tell me his name was Artemus and he asked me where his legion was encamped.”

  “Saul?” Peter asked, needing an evaluation quickly from his expert.

  “Well, you didn’t think they came here just for the view, did you? Trouble follows them, that’s what th
ey do. I’d say we’re very lucky no one’s been killed.”

  “Then don’t say we’re lucky,” Gail interjected.

  “Good Lord! Who? Let me go to him.” Peter felt a stirring in his soul, the Power was awakening.

  “It’s the new guy, the other new guy. Lawrence Coleman. He said he was tired after his orientation. He took a shower and went to bed. Some inmates found him lying on the floor in his cube. He’s dead. Was he one of yours, Peter?”

  “Kenny? You know this man, right?” Peter asked.

  “Can’t be, Peter. Can’t be,” Kenny said, shaking his head. “He is definitely one of us, one of the circle. We met last night at the motel. He is, he was, an extraordinary person. I haven’t even had the chance to tell you about him. How can he be dead? What does that mean?”

  Malik and Saul were wondering the same thing. Coleman’s death definitely didn’t fit.

  “What’s up with the demons, Saul? Are they still in the area?”

  “No, Peter. They are gone. I don’t think anyone else is in immediate danger.”

  “Good, then take me to Coleman. Quickly, we may not have much time.”

  Nine

  Dorm number one at Parkersboro houses a hundred men whose living quarters are arranged in cubicles that hold three inmates each. It’s very much like a standard white collar open office arrangement, difference being in a federal prison camp this area is not where you work, it’s where you sleep. Inside each cube are three beds, a small desk, and three lockers.

  At the front of the dorm, near its only general entrance and bathroom, is an area the inmates call “the beach.” Unlike its counterpart in the free world, the beach at Parkersboro is anything but desirable real estate, because all of the dorm’s foot traffic is, by design, forced to travel through it. The beach is the noisiest and least peaceful place to live. Its beds are reserved for newcomers, and for those few prisoners who refuse to pay their court-ordered restitution.

  The former Mr. Lawrence Coleman was lying motionless on the floor four rows back in the ‘beach sand,’ his eyes wide open and mouth agape as if something had taken him by surprise. As the warden and her entourage approached, the small crowd that had gathered around the body moved slightly aside.