Courageous: A Novel

by Randy Alcorn

  “Clocked that dude,” TJ boasted.

  “You don’t need me,” Antoine said, looking around. “Let’s get outta here before somebody notices.”

  “Get the car while I finish this.”

  Antoine ran across the alley into the adjoining parking lot while TJ stood over David.

  He hit David again like two bursts of a jackhammer. David scuttled on the pavement, crablike, trying desperately to find his footing. Finally he fell back, helpless, legs splayed, barely conscious.

  “You ain’t nothin’, boy. You know that? I got yo life in my hand right now. I decide if you live or die.”

  David had never felt such fear. It ran through his body like freezing water, almost paralyzing him. The blood in his mouth tasted like death.

  Suddenly a magnetic-gray Toyota Tundra truck with a front winch and oversize tires screeched to a stop six feet away. Through the blinding headlights, David saw something enormous leap out.

  David’s assailants were normally the biggest boats in the dock; not this time. The new arrival charged onto the scene like a rhinoceros on meth. He squared off with TJ and tackled him. But the gangster sprang off the ground as if launched by a broken coil. TJ screamed and cursed as he pummeled his opponent’s huge solar plexus. The large man first moved backward, then suddenly, in a moment between punches, leaned forward on his toes and grabbed TJ’s ears. He projected his forehead into TJ’s, knocking him off his feet.

  Stunned, TJ pulled himself up just as Antoine arrived with the car.

  A shrill sound pierced the air. An Albany city police car rushed in with lights flashing and siren blaring. TJ sprinted toward the Caddy and jumped in; Antoine peeled out.

  The big man turned to the cops. “Call an ambulance! This kid needs help.” Then he turned in the direction the thugs had driven off and hollered, “You wanna fight me again, big boy, you better pack a lunch . . . and bring a flashlight! You want my home address? I’ll be waitin’ for ya, punk. I’m meaner than a junkyard dog!”

  He approached the officers while wiping blood from the corner of his mouth. “We’re sheriff’s deputies, Dougherty County.”

  The Albany police officer asked, “Your name’s Bronson, right?”

  “How’d you know?”

  “Word gets around.”

  The city officer turned to his partner. “Radio it in. Tell dispatch they’re headed south on Nottingham Way. And send an ambulance here. We’ve got injuries.” He looked at David, flat on his back.

  David kept still as he struggled to gather his composure. He had taken a beating, and his heart was still racing ninety miles an hour.

  Bronson looked down at David, who pulled himself up to a seated position. “You look like somethin’ the hound’s been hidin’ under the porch.”

  David looked at Bronson. “Where did you come from?”

  “I watched the same lousy movie you did. When I got to my car, I saw the guys come after you.”

  “You called it in, right?” one of the officers asked. “How come no county cops have shown?”

  “We’re off duty. Didn’t need backup.”

  “I’d say you were lucky we happened to drive by to witness it. Anything you want to tell us about the suspects?”

  “Yeah,” Bronson said. “The guy I suspect was beatin’ the crud out of Thomson here was on crack. I suspect his central nervous system was firing on all cylinders.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Well, I suspect he shouldn’t have messed with me. But you can’t fix stupid.”

  David’s face felt like raw hamburger, but nothing seemed broken. He stood now and brushed himself off even though the officers told him to take it easy until the ambulance arrived.

  “You really surprised him with that head-butt, Sarge. Thanks.”

  Bronson smirked, using his sleeve to wipe a trickle of blood from his forehead. “Like my old partner Ollie used to say, ‘Messin’ with me’s like wearin’ cheese underwear down rat alley.’”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “There’s no reason for me to be in this hospital,” David said to Nathan early the next morning.

  “They were concerned about a concussion. They’ll let you go in a couple of hours. You were fortunate, David. When gang members go after a cop, they mean business. They’ll treat him like a rival gangbanger. You ever seen two gangs take each other on?”

  “I’ve seen the Bulldogs play the Yellow Jackets.”

  Nathan laughed. “Put lethal weapons in their hands late in the fourth quarter, and you’ve got the idea.”

  “Bronson caught the dude by surprise with that head-butt. That was a major thunk!”

  David peeked over the side of the bed to look at the little duffel bag next to Nathan’s chair. “Something smells good and it’s not hospital food.”

  Nathan looked both ways and then pulled out a sack. “Not sure I’m supposed to do this.”

  He opened the sack. Based on scent alone, David said, “Pearly’s? Link-sausage biscuit?”

  Nathan stepped to the door. “I’ll stand guard while you take care of business.”

  For the next ten minutes David visited a better world.

  “Thanks, Nathan. That was almost worth gettin’ beat up for.”

  After more small talk, David looked at Nathan and cleared his throat. “Can I ask a question? When you were dragged alongside your truck, were you scared?”

  Nathan laughed. “Of course I was scared!”

  “So you’re afraid of dying?”

  “Well, yes and no. A certain fear of death is healthy. But I believe that when I die, I’ll be in heaven with Jesus. So I can be scared of dying but not be scared about where death will put me. Does that make sense?”

  “Not really.”

  “Why’d you ask?”

  “Because last night I thought I was a goner. You know how people say your life flashes in front of you?”

  Nathan nodded.

  “It’s like that was happening. I didn’t feel like I was ready to leave this world. I have some things I need to straighten out first.”

  “That feeling comes from God, David.”

  “I was afraid you’d say that.”

  “In the Bible, Solomon talked about how wealth doesn’t make you happy, status doesn’t make you happy. There’s an emptiness inside you. He says in a book called Ecclesiastes that God has put eternity in our hearts.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “That there’s more to life than what we can see, and life outlasts this world and will continue in another one.”

  “I’m not sure I believe that.”

  “I think you do, David. You just don’t know it yet.” Nathan paused to think. “Sometimes we have to go down a bunch of dead-end streets before we’re ready to take the one road that leads to God. Jesus meant it when He said, ‘I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.’”

  “That’s a little arrogant, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, it would be. Unless it’s true. In which case, I’m glad Jesus let us know.”

  “That’s one way to look at it.”

  “Yeah, it is. How do you see it?”

  “I haven’t given it much thought.”

  “It’s worth thinking about. It’s the most important question in the world.”

  “What is?”

  “The question of who He is. If you get it right about Jesus, you can afford to get some things wrong. But if you get it wrong about Jesus, in the end it won’t matter what else you got right.”

  “You seem pretty sure of yourself.”

  “Myself? No.” Nathan laughed. “The only one I’m sure of is Jesus. Last night was a reminder, David—our lives hang by a thread. I mean, think about Adam Mitchell’s daughter. One day it’ll be me and you. We’ll be yanked out of this world. If it turns out Jesus was right and you’ve ignored Him, you’ll be sorry.”

  “You mean hell?”

  Nathan nodded.

  “You
really believe that stuff?”

  “Yeah, I do. Jesus had a lot to say about hell; He talked about it like it was a real place. And I believe He knew what He was talking about.”

  “You make it sound like Jesus is real, like He’s alive.”

  “Exactly. He took care of all the ways we’ve messed up—wiped our slates clean when He died on the cross; then He rose from the dead, and He’s alive today in heaven. He promises He’ll be back to set up His Kingdom. He loves us, David—He has scars to prove it. He’s earned my trust.”

  David felt his mind spinning. He wasn’t sure what he believed. But after this fight with death, maybe it was time to figure it out before the rematch.

  At 9:00 a.m. Adam, dressed in dark khakis and a green shirt, sat in an office chair. Pastor Jonathan Rogers, wearing a muted-blue button-down, gray vest, and slacks, sat across from him in a room lined with dark wood shelves filled with books and pictures.

  After Adam called him “pastor” twice, he said, “Please, call me Jon.”

  Adam opened his hands. “A man shouldn’t have to outlive his child.”

  “It’s got to be terribly hard,” Jon said. “My children are grown now, and I’ve got grandchildren; I can’t imagine anything worse than what you’re going through, Adam. I’m truly sorry.”

  “It’s so senseless. She was my little girl. God had no right to take her from me.”

  Jon considered his response. “True, it’s senseless to us. But we know God had a reason for His own Son’s death. Do you think it’s possible He had a reason for your daughter’s?” He paused before continuing. “But you’re wrong about something. Emily did not belong to you.”

  Adam looked up sharply. “What do you mean? She was my daughter.”

  “Yes, and she’ll always be your daughter. But we don’t own our children. God owns them. We’re entrusted with their care.”

  “But she was only nine!” He heard the anger in his own voice and thought about how Victoria would react if she heard him talk like this to a pastor. He put his face in his hands.

  “Adam . . . have you thought about taking your life?”

  He startled. “Did Victoria say something?”

  “No. I just wondered.”

  Silenced prevailed for a minute. “When my old partner, Jeff Henderson, killed himself, I scorned him for taking the coward’s way out. But for the first time, I understand why people do that.”

  Jon leaned forward. “Your job isn’t over until your life is, and it’s not up to you to decide when that is. That’s playing God.”

  “Pastor—Jon—I’m not going to take my life, okay? But . . . yes, the thought crossed my mind one evening.”

  “Obviously I’m concerned about that, Adam. But it’s not just suicide. Many people give up. They keep breathing but stop living.”

  Adam understood.

  “There needs to be a grieving process. When my wife died, I didn’t know what to do. And the only thing I could think was ‘How do I get over this?’ But I learned you don’t get over it; you get through it. The Lord is the one who carries you through.”

  “How are you supposed to heal when you lose someone you love?”

  “I’ve heard it said it’s like learning to live with an amputation. You do heal, but you’re never the same. But those who go through this and trust the Lord find comfort and intimacy with God that others never experience. Now, you’ve got to give yourself time to grieve. But you also need to make efforts to move forward with your life.”

  “I can’t stop thinking about her.”

  “You don’t need to. Because of what God did for her on the cross, she’s with Him now. I have a question for you. If you had the power to bring her back here, would you do it?”

  “In a heartbeat.”

  “If you understood how happy she is with Jesus, would you really call her back from a world without sin and death? Back to a place where one day she’d have to die again?”

  Adam thought but didn’t respond.

  “I don’t believe you would, Adam. It would be selfish. Once someone meets Jesus on the other side, I think the last thing they’d want to do is come back here.”

  “You know I’m a cop, right?”

  Jon laughed. “Five years ago you pulled me over for speeding. Remember?”

  “Yeah, I hoped you didn’t. Anyway, I see more than my share of death. It’s always been somebody else’s family. This time it wasn’t somebody else’s child. . . . It was mine. But now I’ve got a knot in my stomach that won’t go away. I don’t know what to do.”

  Jon Rogers leaned forward and listened.

  “I can’t make sense of anything, you know? I feel like I’m in the dark. But it’s more than that. I’m angry. I think about that drunk—about wanting to go after him.”

  “That drunk has a name.”

  Adam sat back.

  “His name is Mike Hollis,” Jon said. “You know him, don’t you?”

  “I used to buy heating oil from him. He’s been unemployed awhile, I think.”

  “That’s right. He’s a real guy who’s had hard times. Some people turn to the bottle. It’s wrong, but with the pain you’re in, you should understand how desperate people get when they can’t make it go away.”

  “You’re going to tell me to forgive him, aren’t you?”

  “Doesn’t matter what I tell you. It only matters what God tells you. And, yes, He does tell us to forgive. Mike Hollis hitting the bottle is understandable. So is your anger against God. But that doesn’t make it right.”

  “Who said I was angry against God?”

  “No one. I heard it in your voice.”

  “Doesn’t He want me to be honest?”

  “God knows how you feel, so there’s no sense in pretending. Just don’t think that feeling angry means you have a right to be angry. By all means feel bad, Adam. Weep. Jesus wept when His friend died. But that’s not the same as blaming God. We don’t have a right to blame someone who cannot do wrong. Someone who loves us so much He paid the price for our wrongs.”

  Adam shifted in his chair. Part of him rebelled against the straightforward talk from the pastor. But part of him welcomed it. Cops shoot straight with each other, but not a lot of people shoot straight with cops. He liked that Jon Rogers wasn’t afraid to tell him the truth.

  “I want to be there for Victoria, but my emotions are all over the place. And Dylan’s closed me out. I don’t know what to do.” Adam shut his eyes tightly, trying to stop the leak.

  Pastor Rogers thought for a moment. “A crisis like this doesn’t cause our relationships to go bad, but it does have a way of showing where they’re weak. Many marriages don’t survive the loss of a child. You need to reach out to your family and grieve along with them.”

  Rogers paused. “Do you know how my wife was killed?”

  “Yeah, I remember. I wasn’t at the scene, but a buddy was. To be honest, Jon, that’s why I agreed to talk to you when Victoria suggested it. I didn’t want to be preached at by somebody who doesn’t understand.”

  “Losing Abby was terrible, the worst thing that ever happened to me. I won’t say it was easy to forgive that teenager, Ryan, for smoking pot and fiddling with his CD player when he ran her down at the crosswalk.”

  “How did you make it through?”

  “Time helps, if you use the time well and focus on what brings healing. It’s still tough sometimes. I won’t be completely over it until I get to the world where God says He’ll wipe away the tears from every eye.”

  “What helped you?”

  “God’s Word. The same Bible I’d taught to others became more real to me. And the church helped me, just like they’ll help you, if you let them.”

  “Well, if food quantity indicates love, we’re loved.”

  “Got some lasagna?”

  “How did you know?”

  “If I looked deep enough in my freezer, bet I could still find some.”

  Adam smiled. “Victoria will enjoy hearing that.”<
br />
  “I know this will be hard to hear, but the Lord loves Emily more than you do. The hard choice for you is whether to be angry about the time you didn’t have with her or to be grateful for the time you did have.”

  “I do want to be grateful. I am grateful.”

  “How would you like me to help you, Adam? Tell me what’s most on your mind.”

  “Well, I want to know what God expects of me as a father. And I want to know how to help my wife and my son.”

  “I can tell you how to find some answers. But it’s going to take time and energy. If you follow through, you’ll become a better father and husband . . . and even a better son to God your Father. I’ve got two suggestions. First, there are a few books and a software program I want to give you. If you’re serious about getting help and finding perspective, you’d better become a student of God’s Word.”

  “What’s the second suggestion?”

  “There’s someone I want you to visit.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Some jobs a person could return to without full focus. Sheriff’s deputy wasn’t one of them. They called it “fitness for duty.” Adam’s superiors asked him to take all his accrued vacation time as a leave of absence. He only had twelve days, so the department invited officers to transfer time from their banks to his. They came up with an extra thirty days of paid leave. When he heard this, he cried for an hour. Yeah, being a cop was hard on the family. But cops would bend over backward to help a fellow cop in a family crisis.

  Adam spent the first few days of his leave in decompression mode. But he took seriously Jon Rogers’s recommendation that he study Scripture to discover what it said about being a dad and a man. And once he started digging in, he found himself drawn further and further into the truth of Scripture.

  Now, six weeks later, his leave had ended, but Adam hadn’t stopped studying. He sat at the kitchen table and typed on his laptop next to an open Bible and a stack of books.

  Victoria walked in and looked over his shoulder. “You’d think you were going for a doctorate.”

  “I feel like it. This Bible software the pastor gave me is incredible. I’ve been everywhere in Scripture, finding all these passages about fathers and sons.”