The Second Coming

by J. Fritschi

  The Abbey was located on what used to be Leland Stanford’s ranch and vineyard. The church was built using natural colored stones with a Cistercian design and the surrounding buildings were constructed from brick or stucco and were bordered by acres of lush tress and rolling vineyards. It reminded Father John of Italy.

  They walked along the path listening to birds singing to the trickling water of a pond fountain.

  “Do you mind if I ask you a personal question Father?” Abbot Paul asked anxiously.

  “Please, feel free to ask anything you want.”

  “I hope I do not offend you, but why did you leave the church after devoting your life to her?”

  Farther John hesitated as he reflected. “That is a good question,” he said peacefully. “For 16 years I studied and learned the same knowledge that had been taught to church authorities for centuries and yet I was no closer to being enlightened than when I first arrived.” A troubled expression clouded his face. “I wanted to question what they were teaching me, but I was afraid. Who am I to question God’s word?”

  “I see,” Abbot Paul replied quietly.

  “I was confused so I went on a sabbatical to the Vatican looking for answers and met a beautiful, intelligent woman who opened my eyes to a whole new world. Arianna taught me about beauty and love, and gave me the courage to question the knowledge the church authorities taught me. I realized that there are many different truths and I needed to learn and experience more so I left the church to continue my search for enlightenment.”

  “What made you decide to come back to the church?”

  “After living with Arianna for a year I had learned all that I could about love and beauty, but there was something still missing; something calling me back. I wanted to learn more and experience different things; I still had a thirst for enlightenment.”

  “Why did you come back to the U.S.?”

  “I had a dream.”

  “Ah, yes,” the abbot said. “I have heard about your dreams of divine intervention.”

  Father John shook his head. “I haven’t had a dream of divine intervention since I left the church to live with Arianna over a year ago. It was more like a revelation.”

  “I don’t understand. What was your dream about?”

  “It was about the end of days; the apocalypse.”

  They came to a cement bench in a clearing under a maple tree and the two men sat down in the shade.

  “What did your dream reveal to you?” The abbot asked concerned.

  “That society has spent so much time preparing for the end of days that they forgot to think about what it is they were preparing for,” Father John said with a reflective gaze. “In my dream, society was readied for the end of days and then destroyed it to create a new society that was not ready for the end of days either. It was all for not.”

  “What does it all mean?”

  “We are not ready for the end of days. We still have much to learn. Our journey must continue.”

  “What are you going to do now?”

  “First I am going to shave and cut my hair,” Father John said with a grin. “Then I am going to meditate and pray, and try to figure out why this is happening and what I am supposed to do.”

  chapter 6

  OAKLAND, CALIFORNIA, SUNDAY, July 9th, 2005

  If Shelly had any idea of how much danger she was in that night, she never would have gone to work. Hell, she never would have become a bartender. But as it was, she didn’t have any clue of what was about to become of her.

  Shelly could feel Mr. Rafferty’s leering eyes undressing her as she sloshed glasses in and out of the sinks behind the worn bar. She ignored him. He didn’t bother her. She was used to it. Mr. Rafferty wasn’t the only patron to admire her supple breasts and firm ass. As a matter of fact, Shelly dressed provocatively in tight fitting t-shirts and faded jeans because she knew the more a man drank, the more amorous he became and the more tip money he would leave her. She used her sensuous smile and her flirtatious personality to cultivate and encourage her clientele.

  Shelly secretly fantasized that one day a handsome, rich man would randomly stumble upon the bar and be stunned to find someone of her beauty. They would fall madly in love and he would take her away to live in luxury. She knew that a hole in the wall bar wasn’t the best place to meet that man, but she also knew that the chances of a member at a country club falling in love with the bartender were slim to none. It was her romantic side that kept her optimistically waiting for Mr. Everything to walk through the doors.

  Her blonde hair was in a ponytail and her face was moist from the steam. A single stud glimmered alluringly with a splash of water from her pierced naval and as she stood and dried her hands, she glanced over at Old Man Rafferty who quickly looked up at the TV screen as if he hadn’t been watching her.

  His bony elbows were propped up on the bar as he rubbed his age-spotted hands together tightly.

  “Last call Mr. Rafferty,” she informed him.

  The distinguished old man glared at her curiously. “It’s only ten o’clock,” he protested with a slight slur of a Texas drawl. “Let me buy you a drink and we can have a final-final together.”

  Shelly smiled as she turned to get herself a beer from the fridge and then retrieved a bottle of scotch. She refilled his glass.

  “What should we drink to?” She asked as she set the bottle of Scotch on the bar and raised her beer bottle.

  Old Man Rafferty raised his glass and paused as he looked Shelly in the eyes. “To old men sleeping with young women,” he kidded with a wink.

  Shelly smiled. There was no chance of that ever happening, even if he did have a lot of money. He wasn’t her type. He had bushy eyebrows and thinning white hair that was neatly parted to the side in an attempt to cover up his receding hair line. She touched the long neck of her beer bottle with the rim of his glass and took a sip.

  Mr. Rafferty had been making advances at her since the first time he walked in to watch Sunday Night Baseball on ESPN. Shelly didn’t mind his playful banter. She knew he was harmless and that nothing would ever come of them. Besides he wore a thick Rolex watch and dressed in nothing but designer shirts, shoes and pants. She figured he must have a lot of money. One night she peeked out the window and was delighted to see that he was driving a new Mercedes Benz. He must have been in his eighties and couldn’t live too much longer. She fantasized that he would leave his fortune to her. He didn’t have anyone else to leave it to. At least, that was what she convinced herself one night when she asked him why he hung out at a hole in the wall bar.

  “It has character, unlike the stuffy, upscale bars,” he told her. “The truth is, I don’t have anyone else I would rather watch Sunday Night Baseball with than you.”

  It was one of the many endearing comments he made that allowed her to tolerate the dirty old man comments. She did enjoy his company on Sunday nights. There was usually no one else in the bar and he made her feel safe and wanted. They normally talked about baseball, but tonight Mr. Rafferty turned the table on Shelly.

  “What’s a beautiful, young lady like you doing working in a place like this?” he asked with a smirk.

  Shelly smiled at his underhanded compliment. “It has character and I don’t have anyone else I would rather watch Sunday night baseball with.”

  “You don’t have any family in the area?”

  “No, it’s just little-ole-me.”

  “Where are your parents?”

  “My mom and step-dad live in Montana,” she replied as she grabbed a cigarette and lit it.

  “Where’s your biological father?”

  “I’m not sure. He left when I was 4,” she told him with a quiver in her voice.

  “I’m sorry my dear. Nobody’s heard from him since?”

  Shelly shook her head.

  “Would you like to know where he is?”

  Shelly let out a deep breath and took a sip of her beer. “I don’t know. There’s a part of me that wants to know
why he left us, but there’s a part of me that knows it won’t make up for what he did to us.”

  Mr. Rafferty nodded his head. There was a moment of silent reflection.

  “I know people who are in the business of locating people who do not want to be found. If you ever want to know, just say the word.”

  “Thank you,” she said as she touched his hand.

  “What about your mom and step dad? Do you keep in contact with them?”

  “I left home after I graduated from high school. I haven’t talked to either of them since then.”

  “What happened that was so bad it caused you to leave and never go back?”

  “I don’t like to talk about it.”

  “I know it’s difficult, but sometimes it helps to talk about it. You can’t run from your problems like your father did.”

  Shelly paused and stared at Mr. Rafferty. “When I was sixteen, my step father started making advances towards me. One night he kissed me and held me against him. I struggled to get away, but he was too strong.” Tears filled her eyes and ran down her cheeks. “He raped me.” She began to sob, her body silently shaking.

  “That’s alright my dear. It’s not your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “When I told my mom about it, she didn’t believe me. She believed him more than she believed me,” her body shook as she stood behind the bar silently sobbing.

  Mr. Rafferty scurried around the bar and placed his hands on her arms. Shelly hugged him with all of her strength. He held her in his arms as she cried, her tears soaking the shoulder of his shirt.

  “I don’t want you to worry about anything. I will take care of you. If there is ever anything you need, you just let me know.”

  Shelly smiled and kissed him. “Thank you.”

  “I mean it. Anything at all.”

  “Can you kill my step father?” Shelly asked half-heartedly.

  “It can be arranged,” Old Man Rafferty replied with a glimmer in his eyes.

  “I’m just kidding,” Shelly said dismissively.

  “I’m not. You just say the word and the same goes for finding you biological father. You just let me know and I will take care of it.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  Mr. Rafferty was settled back on his stool when the front door blew open. A cool draft entered the room like an invisible force, sending chills up her spine. The dark silhouette of a tall man with a hood pulled over his head stood in the doorway.

  “We’re closed,” Shelly announced.

  The figure loomed motionless in the doorway. Shelly tried to focus on the man’s face, but all she could see was darkness. Mr. Rafferty spun around on his stool.

  “I’m just getting ready to lock up,” Shelly said loudly.

  The dark figure didn’t move or say anything.

  “Is there something we can help you with?” Mr. Rafferty asked.

  The dark stranger stood in the doorway. Shelly’s heart began to race. What the hell was he doing?

  “Are you alright?” Mr. Rafferty asked as he hoped off his stool.

  The dark figure abruptly stepped back and slammed the door.

  Shelly stared at Mr. Rafferty with wide eyes. “That was creepy.”

  “Crazy kid. He was probably drunk.”

  There was an eerie moment of silence.

  “I really should close up Mr. Rafferty,” Shelly said apprehensively.

  “Do you want me to stay and help?”

  “That’s alright. I’ll lock the door behind you and go out the side door. It’s a short distance to my car and there is plenty of light in the parking lot. Plus I’ve got pepper spray.”

  “Alright my dear. I’ll check around the building before I leave.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” she said appreciatively.

  “Nonsense. When I said I would take care of you, I meant it.”

  Shelly pranced out from behind the bar and escorted him to the front door. “Thank you,” she said as she gave him a hug.

  “Lock the door behind me and keep your cell phone with you.”

  “I promise. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

  Mr. Rafferty smiled affectionately at Shelly. “I’ll see you next Sunday night,” he said with a wink.

  “I look forward to it.”

  It would be the last time they would watch Sunday Night Baseball together.

  chapter 7

  THE KILLER STOOD in the shadows of the night across the street from the two story stucco and brick façade bar with his hood pulled over his head waiting for the old man to leave. He was only interested in the pretty young bartender.

  The door opened and the old man appeared from the light until the door was shut behind him. The killer watched with keen interest as the old man searched around the building for him. When he was satisfied that no one was lurking about, the old man got in his car and slowly drove away.

  The killer waited a few minutes, carefully calculating his next move. He was not going to go in after his victim. He was going to flush her out like a wild animal. He moved briskly across the street and disconnected the phone line and then crept along the side of the building until he was hidden in the doorway. He placed his head against the door and could hear the faint voices of the TV. He carefully tried to open the door, but it was locked, just as he anticipated. This is what he had been waiting for. He pounded on the door a few times and waited for a response.

  Shelly was sitting at the bar watching Sports Center having a final beer and cigarette when suddenly, there was a loud pounding on the front door. Shelly flinched and almost dropped her cigarette. She froze as she stared at the door too terrified to move or say anything. She listened intently for any sign of who it was as she set her cigarette in the ash tray. It was probably Mr. Rafferty. Or maybe it was Doug, the owner of the bar. Sometimes he came down late to check on things and help her close. Or maybe it was the mysterious stranger.

  Someone slammed their hand on the door three more times. Shelly’s heart skipped causing her to jump and shriek. She placed her trembling hand over her mouth as she slowly crept towards the darkness of the front door. The only thing she could hear was the thumping of her pulse as the veins in her neck pumped with adrenaline.

  When she got to the door, she placed her hands on it and leaned in with her ear against the cold wood. She heard the jingling of keys outside the door and was momentarily relieved.

  “Doug? Is that you?” she shouted.

  The jingling of the keys fell silent. “Hello? Who’s out there?” She asked with waiver in her voice. “Is that you Mr. Rafferty?”

  She thought she heard someone whispering. Her first thought was that Mr. Rafferty may have been attacked and came back for help. She slowly reached for the deadbolt and held it tightly. “Mr. Rafferty, is that you?” She shouted.

  A sinister whisper slithered through the crack in the door.

  “I know you are alone,” the voice hissed. “I’ve been watching you.” Shelly stumbled back from the door. “You better get out of here you sick bastard. I’m calling the police!” She yelled, almost in tears. She turned and scurried behind the bar, her heart racing, and picked up the cordless phone. She fumbled with the talk button, and held the phone to her ear. There was no dial tone.

  “Holy shit.” The muscles in her face began to quiver. She pressed the end button and then the talk button again hoping that she had made a mistake. She held the phone to her ear and there was nothing but dead silence. What the fuck was she going to do?

  There were three exits out of the building. She was contemplating which one to make a run for when the power to the building was cut off and the room went black.

  She stood frozen. There were no windows in the building and the room was as dark as a dungeon. She was trapped. She began to feel her way around for her purse. She finally found it and fumbled through it for her cell phone when she remembered that she left it charging in her truck. Son of a bitch.

  She found her lighter, sc
ratched a flame from it, and lit a candle on the bar. It cast an eerie, gold reflection whose shadow flickered on the wood paneled walls. She gazed around the room, listening, as her heart pounded.

  Shelly began to fish through her purse for her pepper spray and car keys. She couldn’t stay put and let the mysterious stranger torment her any longer. She was going to have to make a break for it, out the side door to the parking lot, and hopefully to her truck.

  The shattering of glass from upstairs startled her. She listened for the footsteps of an intruder, but there was only silence. She had to get out of there before it was too late.

  With her keys in her left hand and the pepper spray in the other, she threw her purse over her shoulder and hustled towards the side exit.

  When she got to the door, she paused and listened for any sign of him. The leaves rustled in the wind. She opened the door cautiously and poked her head out. She glanced around the dimly lit parking lot and didn’t see anything except for her pickup truck. She was almost there. All she had to do was make it across the parking lot and get it started.

  She took a deep breath, stepped out of the door and scurried towards the safety of her truck. She glanced back as she fumbled for her keys, dropping them on the concrete. She leaned over and picked them up.

  When she found the truck key, she tried to force it into the slot but it got stuck. Come on, hurry up. She got the key in and as she was turning it, she felt a burning pain on her heels. Before she realized what was happening, she crumbled to the ground, dropping everything. The next thing she knew, she was laying on the cold, hard concrete, looking up at a spiraling night’s sky. What the hell was going on? Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the dark hooded stranger slide out from under her truck. She couldn’t believe it. How could she have been so stupid?