yourselves, or I will be forced to make my hired muscle take actions which will be, shall we say, less than beneficial to both of you." Her voice fluttered slightly, but still held a sternness Jacob could not refuse.
"Yes, ma'am," Jacob said, followed by a sigh of relief.
"Thank you, Jacob," the caller said cheerfully, if that was even possible for the woman. "Let's continue the game."
As she left to go back to the box of balls, Jacob noticed Big Johnny was no longer in his seat. Abscond realized the same thing a few seconds later and ran for the door.
"Dammit, what now!" The caller yelled, sitting down to pull the next ball.
"He's gone," Jacob replied, pointing to the empty seat where Mr. Thunder's butt heat, more than likely, continued to linger.
"For the love of..." She began, before cutting the last word off. "Abscond, what the hell is going on here?"
The big man would not be answering that question right away. Jacob noticed the huge mass exit the door at full speed and disappear. I'm glad he's gone. Jacob thought, using his arm to push the hammer and nails aside. He grabbed the blood-red dabber and waited.
WALTER’S INTRODUCTION
Jacob watched the dabber roll around in his fingers. He was mesmerized by the thing. A blood-red tip, leading down to an equally red shaft. The words "If God were here, we'd all be screwed." written in black letters along the side. The words weren't all that funny, but giggling seemed to be the only way to release tension-so Jacob opened his mouth and let them out. He was still laughing when he felt a hand on his shoulder. With the events of the last few minutes still very vivid in his brain, Jacob was beyond the point of surprise. He turned slowly to reveal the face of an elderly gentleman. That was really the only way to describe the man. Even without clothing, there was this air about him. A feeling of some forgotten royalty.
"Young man, my name is Walter." The tone of his voice nothing more than a whisper. "How are you doing?"
"Not bad, considering I almost had a nail driven through my dick." Jacob said, absently.
He noticed a ring of white hair circling the man's head like a halo. Could be an angel? Jacob thought.
The man laughed at Jacob's remark. "So true," he began. "There are many things here you have yet to discover. Not quite as violent as the nail in the… and I hope you don't mind if I use the proper word "penis", but still quite a long way from calm."
Walter gave Jacob a conspiratorial wink. Jacob returned the gesture by extending his hand.
"What a polite young man you are?" Walter said, reaching to take the boy's offered digits. "I say, I think we are going to get along marvelously."
Jacob kinda liked the way the man talked. Like an English butler from some old movie his mom made him watch while dad was out on one of his errands.
"You bring out the gentleman in me," Jacob said, giving a firm shake of the older-man's hand. They both laughed, filling the room with a joyfulness the place sorely needed.
"We are going to take a break." The voice of the caller caught Jacob's breath in his throat. The uplifting moment passing between him and Walter had come to an end. They both watched as the caller pulled a book from behind the ball box. The cover read "Of Heaven and Hell: An Auto-Biography by the Devil Himself."
"She does seem to have a strange sense of reading material." Walter began, running his fingers down Jacob's shoulder. Jacob leaned into the old man's touch. Walter responded by giving Jacob's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "There is so little comfort here. I hope you don't mind the contact. It is nothing sexual I assure you."
Jacob waved him off like the very thought was ludicrous.
"I knew your father."
Jacob turned to face the man.
"What?" Walter flinched at the intensity in the boy's eyes.
"Your father, Michael." There seemed to be a wetness forming around the lids of the old man's eyes. "He was a wonderful man."
Jacob instinctively took the man's hands into his own. With furrowed brows, Jacob focused more clearly on Walter's expression, trying to determine if the old man was simply leading him on. He saw no deception there.
"How do you know him?" The question nothing more than a whisper.
"We were friends." Walter's gaze became blank as if in memory. "Very good friends."
"Dad never mentioned you. Nor did my mom." Jacob pressed harder, making Walter wince. "I don't remember ever seeing you either."
Walter delicately removed his fingers from Jacob's grip.
"I'm sorry, son. I have very bad arthritis. Your youthful clasp has won the day. I must respectfully declare you the victor in our little handhold." A stunning smile accompanied the words. Jacob smiled and placed his hands on his lap.
"As to your original inquiry." Walter leaned forward, allowing his forehead to rest on Jacob's. They were eye to eye and Jacob smelled sweet peppermints on the old man's breath. He breathed deeply, loving the man's scent. Jacob could easily see why his father had been friends with Walter. Maybe they could be friends as well. "I met him one night at a little diner called "Heaven's Gate". Do you know the place?"
Jacob sure did. He could still taste the tangy bite of the restaurant's lemon meringue pie. Could feel his dad's hand on his as he joked about who would be paying the check. Remembered the way his mother ran her fingers down his father's face before giving him a kiss.
"I can see by your wistful expression you remember it well. I too have great memories of the place. Maybe because my wife had passed away years before and I needed a place where the loneliness didn't follow me. I needed someone to talk to. Someone who would hold my hand and listen to my stories with patience. Your father gave me hope. Brought me back from a darker place." Walter wrapped his hands together, covering the wrists. "There are places Jacob no one should go alone."
Jacob reached out to take Walter's arm. With gentle fingers, Jacob brought the old man's hands apart. There were several slashes across the skin on the inside right above the palm. Scars marked the area, creating a road map to places where hope fades and the only reason to live is that one day you'll be with your wife.
"I love her," Walter said.
Jacob nodded, applying soft pressure to the damaged skin.
"You have your father's ability to comfort." Walter leaned forward, kissing Jacob on the lips. The contact continued for several seconds before Walter sat back in his seat. "I miss him." A slight pause. "I miss them both."
They stared at each other a long time. Jacob finally wiggled his nose, making Walter laugh. The old man ran his fingers down Jacob's face before giving the boy another kiss.
"I wish I had known you while your father was alive." Walter relaxed in his seat, placing his hands in his lap. "He was something."
With a crash, Abscond burst into the room-carrying Big Johnny Thunder.
"Mother Fucker, thought he could get away."
The caller lowered her book.
"Crucify him," she said, staring intently at the limp form of Johnny.
"With pleasure." Abscond moved to the front of the room and tossed his cargo along the wall-hard enough to place a head-size dent in the plaster. Johnny groaned and Jacob could hear soft sobs coming from the man. The church had become suddenly silent except for the exertions of Abscond, who made a straight-line for the utility closet where the hammer and nails had come from earlier.
Moments later, Abscond carried a wooden structure to an area off to the right of the ball box. He walked back to where Jacob and Walter were sitting and grabbed the hammer and nails with one huge swipe.
"Don't you cause any more trouble old man." Abscond hissed. His black skin glistening with sweat.
Walter raised his hands in submission. Abscond saw the scars and smiled.
"Nice." On that one word, Abscond returned to the front of the room.
Walter placed a hand on Jacob's neck.
"Listen carefully, I have to tell you something." W
alter's breath warm and comforting in Jacob's ear. "There is only one way to get out of here."
Jacob felt tendrils of fear crawl up his spine like spiders. "You have to remember what got you here. You have to seek forgiveness for what you have done."
Jacob vividly pictured a girl in a locked shed. The shed where a snake had been. He saw himself standing in front of the building's door. In his hand, he held a shiny key.
THE BAD DEATH OF BIG JOHNNY THUNDER
Johnny rocked against the wall, mumbling to himself. Words without meaning, the depth of which only Johnny seemed to comprehend. A trickle of blood ran down the man's neck, pooling in the little dip of his clavicle. Jacob watched all this fascinated by the visual portrait unraveling in front of him. Walter sat quietly, saying nothing.
Abscond forced the wooden structure into a hole in the floor. Jacob couldn't recall seeing it there earlier. Of course, his attention had been on other things. More important things like nails in places a boy would sooner forget. With ease, the cross-and by God it was a cross of worn wood and reddish leather straps where the arms and legs went-slid into position. Abscond lifted Johnny like the man weighed nothing at all. Maybe at that moment Johnny really did become weightless, trying to float away from the horrifying scene unfolding before him. Abscond threw Johnny up and secured the right hand strap with ease. The left hand slammed wood and became fixed in position as well. Only the feet remained loose for the briefest of seconds before joining the hands in the
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