Comfort and Affliction

by Michael Frosolono

  “Why do you think he was killed?”

  “You two will keep what I say confidential; nothing goes any further than this office?”

  Big Al and Eric nodded.

  “We’ve looked into Rice’s records,” Chief Holderfield said. “He served a tour in the Marine Corps, specializing in demolitions. He’d have sufficient experience to blow up Big Al’s church and parsonage with C4, which is what the crime lab tells us was the primary explosive.”

  “He’d need access to C4.”

  “Plenty of illegal sources exist.”

  “Whitfield probably wanted Rice out of the way in case the crime lab links the explosion and fires to him, and then to Whitfield,” Eric said.

  “A good theory of the crime,” Chief Holderfield said.

  “I have one last question.”

  “Ask it. I’ll answer if I can.”

  “Do you and Sheriff Brodman have someone working undercover in the local Restoration Movement?”

  “Be the smart thing for us to do, wouldn’t it?”

  “Assuming you do have one or more infiltrators, why didn’t you get a warning about the explosion and fires at Big Al’s church?”

  “Probably because Whitfield and Rice kept the plan to themselves.”

  Joseph waited until after dinner to make his complaint. “Reverend Eric, if I knew how to shoot, we’d have more internal protection.”

  “Joseph,” Allison said, “I give Eric my permission to teach you to shoot once we’re free of this present danger. You can’t learn to shoot inside the house.”

  “I can get him started on the process,” Eric said.

  “How?” Joseph asked.

  “We start with dry firing, without any ammunition. You can practice firing one of my pistols, learn to hold your hands steady, keep your sights on the target.”

  “What about the pistol in your holster, the one on your hip?”

  “My M-9 Beretta wouldn’t be appropriate for you.”

  “Why not? It looks big enough.”

  “It’s too large for your hands. I have something better for you in my gun safe.”

  “What about Mom’s Baby Glock?”

  “Glocks are hard to shoot, especially if one is the first pistol you fire.”

  “So I need a more ladylike pistol?” Allison asked.

  “Not necessarily. I’ll need to see you fire live ammunition before I can comment. Have you fired a lot of rounds?”

  “No,” Allison said. “I fired enough to familiarize myself with the Glock.”

  “Did you hit the targets?”

  “Sometimes. I figured I wouldn’t need to fire at anyone except when they might be up close and personal.”

  “Seems like I should be an instructor for both of you.”

  “May we get started tonight?” Joseph asked.

  “Probably not. I’m going to check out the security at the parsonage and come back here to do the same.”

  “You’re leaving us alone?” Allison asked.

  “Not for long, and you won’t be alone. Chief Holderfield has a car with two officers in front of the house, and a couple of Big Al’s men are patrolling the back.”

  “Go do your thing,” Allison said. “I’ll keep my pistol handy, just in case.”

  “The least you could do,” Joseph insisted, “would be to load the pistol you’re going to give me. I’m sure I could hit an intruder at close range. I won’t fire until I see the whites of his eyes.”

  “Joseph,” Eric said, “all in due time. I fear you might be more of a danger to yourself and Allison until after you receive proper instructions.”

  Eric returned home after a forty-five-minute inspection of the security detail at the parsonage. He stopped at the patrol car in front of the house. “Anything out of the ordinary?” he asked the lieutenant at the wheel.

  “No, sir. Everything’s quiet. Don’t worry, we’re alert. Trouble usually comes when you’re not expecting it.”

  “Have you checked on the men at the back of the house?”

  “Officer Daniels,” the lieutenant pointed to his companion, “made the rounds thirty minutes ago. The two guys back there are wide awake and in place. We’ll keep checking with them. Do you have strong locks on your doors?”

  “My wife had high-quality locks installed when she moved into the house.”

  “What about a security system?”

  “We’ll activate it when we go to bed.”

  “Have a good night.”

  “Thanks.”

  Eric walked to the house and used his key to unlock the front door. As he stepped across the portal, he smelled the unmistakable odor of cheap whiskey and strong tobacco. All senses alerted, Eric dropped to his knees immediately before a man dressed in black swung a club at his head. Eric jumped to his feet, his right arm blocking the man’s vicious backswing. Eric used his right foot to kick the assailant in his left knee. The satisfying crunch of destroyed bones testified to the brutality and aim of Eric’s kick. The man opened his mouth to scream in pain as he fell toward his damaged side. Eric jammed the stiffened fingers of his right hand into the man’s throat, collapsing his trachea before any sound could escape his mouth. The man fell to the floor, struggling to breathe. Eric, initially intending to drive a knee into the man’s chest to collapse the rib cage and kill him, instead straddled the assailant and knocked him unconscious with an elbow swipe to the chin. “Rest in peace,” Eric whispered.

  Eric took off his shoes so he could walk more silently though the house. Allison and Joseph were not in the downstairs rooms. Eric walked slowly up the stairs, staying close to the wall in order to minimize any noise from the wooden boards under the carpeted steps. When he reached the top of the stairs, Whitfield’s voice came from Allison’s office. Eric made his way to the office, cocked M-9 pistol in his right hand. A floorboard squeaked when he stepped into the room.

  Whitfield kept his Colt Model 1911 .45-caliber pistol pointed at Allison, who, like Joseph, was tied to a chair. Turning his head slightly toward Eric, Whitfield said, “See, Jameson, you shoot me and I’ll get off at least one shot. Your bitch wife will be dead before I hit the floor. Did you kill my man at your front door?”

  “He’s out of action. You should have told him to brush his teeth and use mouthwash to cover up the smell of his whiskey and cigarettes.”

  “Well, he’s done enough by killing Rice and the bastard judge. I’ll have to take care of the queer Taliaferro another way.”

  “Did you two kill the men guarding the backyard?”

  “Wasn’t hard. My man learned how to kill silently in the Marine Corps, long before those uptight idiots gave him a dishonorable discharge.”

  Eric kept the M-9 trained on Whitfield while looking straight at Joseph. “Isn’t this business somewhat of a diversion for you, Whitfield? Shouldn’t you be running for cover, with the law about to close in on you?”

  “I will kill everybody involved in taking my property from me. Then my confederates in the Southern Restoration Movement will transport me to a place where nobody can find me.”

  Joseph laughed raucously. “Isn’t the Southern Restoration a bowel movement lower than whale shit?”

  Whitfield snapped his head toward Joseph. “You little—”

  Eric’s first shot broke Whitfield’s right arm and his pistol fell to the floor. Whitfield turned to charge at Eric, whose next two shots broke Whitfield’s knees. Bellowing in pain, Whitfield collapsed.

  Eric, his pistol pointed at Whitfield’s forehead, stood over the writhing man. Allison shouted, “Don’t kill him, Eric! Let the law take care of him, please.”

  “My lawyer’s right, Whitfield,” Eric said. “You’re too sorry for me to waste another bullet on.”

  Eric pulled his iPhone from his front left pants pocket to call Chief Holderfield.

  “Reverend Jameson,” the chief answered. “Is there a problem?”

  “You should send an EMS bus for Whitfield and a coroner’s wagon for the
man who killed Rice and Judge Prentice, and for the men Whitfield and his buddy murdered in our backyard.”

  “What about my men?”

  “I hear them coming up the stairs right now.” The two officers came through the door and halted when they took in the scene. Eric put his M-9 on Allison’s desk and gave the still-connected iPhone to the lieutenant. “Chief Holderfield’s on the line. Tell him what you see.”

  Joseph shouted, “Tell Chief Holderfield my dad’s once again a hero!”

  CHAPTER 30

  Wednesday, 08 October

  Still keyed up from the events of the past couple of days, Allison had difficulty falling asleep. Eric’s thrashing and jerky movements contributed to her insomnia. She wondered what was going on in Eric’s mind, because she’d not previously observed this nighttime behavior in her husband, who usually fell asleep quickly on his back and slept soundly.

  “Eric! Eric!” Allison shouted, shaking Eric awake. “You’re having a nightmare. Wake up.”

  Eric struggled through the blackness engulfing him. “What’s wrong?”

  An impatient knock sounded at the bedroom door. “What’s happening in there?” Joseph asked. “Are you guys having bad sex?”

  “No,” Allison said. “Eric had a bad dream. He’s awake now.”

  “Can I help?”

  “Like I said, we’ve got things under control. Go back to bed.”

  “Hey, it’s almost daylight. I’ll start us some breakfast.”

  “Thanks. We’ll be downstairs in few minutes.”

  “Over and out.”

  Allison turned to Eric. “You were screaming like a tortured banshee. Why?”

  “I was back in Afghanistan during my last battle.”

  “When you were wounded?”

  “Yes.” Eric sat up in the bed.

  Allison put her arms around Eric, holding him tight. “You want to talk about it?”

  “I haven’t had that particular dream in a couple of years; I thought I was through with it.” Eric kissed her lightly on the lips. “I’ll give you and Joseph an abridged version at breakfast.”

  “Without much gore?”

  “No gore.”

  After the family ate breakfast, Eric related a sanitized account of his last battle. Joseph poured more coffee for Allison, Eric, and himself. Allison looked at Joseph. “You’ve drunk three cups. I’m cutting you off for the morning.”

  Joseph shrugged in apparent disbelief before asking Eric, “You won your Medal of Honor because of what you did during your last battle?”

  “You don’t win the medal, Joseph, you supposedly earn it.”

  “So you earned the medal.”

  “It was a mistake.”

  “A mistake?” Allison asked. “Whatever in God’s name do you mean? Sounds like you were a bona fide hero.”

  “What happened resulted from a team effort. The brass awarded the medal to me more for political reasons than for what I did by myself.”

  “What about the rest of the team, did they get medals?”

  “Silver Stars, what I should have been given, or we all should have been awarded Medals of Honor.”

  Joseph looked straight at Eric. “I have a problem with your story.”

  “What in the world do you mean, Joseph?” Allison asked.

  “See, I Googled Reverend Eric and found his citation. His story and the description in the official citation don’t match up.”

  Allison looked inquiringly at Eric. He nodded. “The brass wanted to acknowledge what we did without admitting a lot of the fighting arguably took place on Pakistani territory. They also didn’t want anybody to know we captured Haqqani.”

  Joseph laughed, “So the brass made up another story?”

  “Correct.”

  Allison asked, “Is there any truth to what the citation says?”

  “The Army historians did a great job of subterfuge. They created a new narrative out of some of the team’s previous actions.”

  Allison leaned across the table to kiss Eric. “Bravery is bravery. You got what you deserved and,” she met his eyes, “Joseph and I have you.”

  Joseph rose from the table. “I’m going to be sick from all this sloppy sentimentality. Maybe you two should go back to bed for another orgy.”

  Eric said, “Sounds like a great idea to me.”

  Allison shook her head. “I have to be in the office.”

  CHAPTER 31

  Friday, 17 October

  Big Al walked into Eric’s office. “I’m back from my meeting with Sister Allison.”

  “Good news?”

  “She says we aren’t through yet.”

  “Pull up a pew and sit a while. You look beat.”

  Big Al sat heavily in the chair across from Eric’s desk. “I’ve been kinda tuckered out since Sunday.”

  “Have you seen your doctor?” Eric knew the toll the funerals of the men killed during Whitfield’s rampage had taken on Big Al.

  “Not yet. I’ll get an appointment next week, if I don’t feel any better before then.”

  “I can do both services by myself this Sunday to take some stress off you.”

  “I prefer to preach,” Big Al said. “Besides, I can’t let you get all the glory.”

  “You’re scheduled for the early service. At least let’s swap and I’ll do the entire first service. You can sleep in, if you wish.”

  “Thank you kindly. I’ll take you up on your generous offer.”

  “The insurance company still refuses to pay off on Ebenezer and the parsonage?”

  “They maintain our policy excludes acts of domestic terrorism just like acts of war.”

  “Terrorism probably wasn’t on the radar back when you first bought the insurance.”

  “About a year ago, we switched carriers to save a good bit of money. The new policy excludes terrorism.”

  Eric looked surprised. “Allison wants to take the company to court?”

  “She said we have an arguable case, depending upon the outcome of Whitfield’s trial.”

  “Whitfield was indicted on charges of arson, endangerment, murder, attempted murder and a host of other charges. I don’t recall domestic terrorism being on the list.”

  “The insurance company,” Big Al said, “claims Whitfield and his men operated under the umbrella of the Southern Restoration Movement. Homeland Security lists the Restorers as a potential domestic terror organization. That’s our problem.”

  “How did you leave things with Allison?”

  “She told me, to use her words, Keep the faith.”

  “Allison can be fierce in court.”

  “I’m glad she’s on our side, because we’ll have a lot of trouble rebuilding without the insurance payment.”

  “Big Al, we can continue the present arrangement for as long as necessary.”

  “If the process of rebuilding Ebenezer takes longer than a few more months, we’ll face a problem at Aldersgate.”

  “You mean our increasing membership?” Eric asked.

  “Ain’t it wonderful? We’re admitting black and white folks, and some Hispanics, to membership in our congregations almost every Sunday. If the trend continues, we’ll need to hold three Sunday morning worship services.”

  “Or enlarge the sanctuary.”

  “The pressure to enlarge the sanctuary or go to three worship services will be relieved at least temporarily when we rebuild Ebenezer.”

  “I’m sure Allison expects the insurance company to prolong a decision on the criminal acts versus domestic terrorism until after Whitfield’s trial,” Eric said.

  “A point she made this morning.”

  “Perhaps the North Georgia Conference could make some funds available to rebuild Ebenezer, without waiting for the outcome with the insurance company?”

  “Tough economic times mean tough times for the Conference, and for almost all our churches.”

  “Big Al, we could always formally merge our two congregations and everybody can stay in this
church.”

  “I’d hate to see Ebenezer die.”

  “Merging could mean a rebirth of both congregations.”

  “How?”

  “We combine under a new name.”

  “Such as?”

  “Ebenezer at Aldersgate United Methodist Church.”

  Big Al thought for a few moments. “You’re thinking about the passage from First Samuel? ‘Then Samuel took a stone and set it up between Mizpah and Jeshanah, and named it Ebenezer; for he said, ‘Thus far the Lord has helped us.’”

  “I am, indeed, and the second verse of Come, Thou Fountain of Every Blessing.”

  Both men sang in unison:

  “Here I raise mine Ebenezer, hither by they help I’m come; and I hope, by thy good pleasure, safely to arrive at home. Jesus sought me when a stranger, wandering from the fold of God; he, to rescue me from danger, interposed his precious blood.”

  “The name could signify a new beginning for both churches, a reaffirmation and reminder of God’s everlasting covenant with us,” Eric said. “We let the world know we remain true to God despite all the troubles we’ve experienced.”

  “I suppose you’ll want to put an Ebenezer stone on the church grounds, like Samuel did?”

  “A big stone in front of the church where everybody can see it.”

  “Brother Eric, how long have you been playing with this idea?”

  “A while. Seems like a reasonable solution.”

  “Do you think the Aldersgate folks would buy it?”

  “We’ll have to sell the concept. Some people will resist, most will support the idea. What about Ebenezer?”

  “Could be a hard sell, not necessarily impossible. You want to expand a little bit more on what you have in mind?”

  “First, I discount selling the Aldersgate property and rebuilding a combined church somewhere else.”

  “We’d probably meet a lot of opposition, from the Aldersgate people and also from the Conference.”

  “Right, because of the prime location we’re sitting on.”

  Big Al asked, “What else?”

  “Like I said earlier, we combine here under the new name. We continue to share the ministerial duties. You could be senior pastor, and I would be the assistant pastor, if the Conference agrees.”