Absence of Faith

by Anthony S. Policastro

  "Doctor Carson Hyll, please," he said.

  "Hello, Carson. I had no idea she’d write that story. I can't even find her - she's out on assignment. I'm really sorry. It makes us look like a bunch of witch doctors. I would never let her write it if I knew - I would have insisted that she interview everyone directly and ask permission. I hope this doesn't cause any trouble," Gary said.

  "Well, it has!" Carson said. "The hospital's phones are ringing off the hook - everyone in town is scared to death and calling to find out if it's true. There's a general panic!"

  "I'm sorry. I had no idea."

  "I have to go. I'm being paged," Carson said.

  "I'll call you when I get more information," Gary said.

  Carson reported to a nearby nursing station, where a sleepy-eyed nurse stared into a computer display.

  "Doctor Hyll, Doctor Stokes wants to see you in his office," she said.

  "Ah, shit!"

  The sleepy nurse looked up at him. He turned and rushed off to see Stokes. When he entered, Stokes looked up - his face wrinkled by a large frown, and his face was drawn and tired.

  "Do you know what’s going on? Did you leak the story to the press? We have riots in the lobby, and the phones are jammed. You've turned this hospital into a zoo! The whole town is in an uproar over the story! Did you see it?"

  "I didn't do it, sir. Let me explain," Carson said.

  After he explained the events, Stokes opened a lower drawer in his desk and produced a bottle of Jack Daniels.

  "I didn't think you'd do something as foolish as this," Stokes said. "We’ll have to issue a press release right away discrediting that reporter. Get two paper cups from that water cooler, would you, Carson? This is the right medicine for times like these."

  "Sure. I didn't think you drank at all," Carson said.

  "Come on. Religion is good for the soul and the spirit, but this is good for the body...in moderation, of course," Stokes said.

  "Of course." Carson smiled.

  "Stick around. I want you to talk to public relations so we can put out a press release right away," Stokes said. "Then I have to take care of the people in the lobby. It's a mess down there."

  "You're kidding? I thought the phones were the only problem."

  "No, see for yourself. If it weren't for that quote by the preacher, none of this would have happened. The fool told the reporter that he believed people were going to hell," Stokes said. "That's all it took. You know how these people are in this town. They would believe a preacher before you or me."

  "I'll bet he never said that. She just twisted it around like she did with us," Carson added.

  "You're probably right, Carson," he said. "But that doesn't change things. We still look like idiots."

  Stokes called the public relations office and a young woman with a note pad arrived several minutes later. Stokes spoke and she took notes. The young woman asked a few questions, then left. Stokes and Carson then went to the lobby. When they arrived, the lobby was filled with a crowd of boisterous senior citizens milling about in the lounge area.

  "Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention? May I have your attention?" Stokes yelled over the noise.

  The crowd settled down.

  "You are all aware of the story that appeared in today's Sentinel. Well, let me assure you we did not make any official statements to the press regarding a Hellfire disease or any disease for that matter."

  "Are you telling us the newspaper's lying?" a man leaning on a cane yelled from the crowd.

  "Yes and no, Mr. Roberts. What I'm saying is that there is some kind of disease - very rare that causes these effects, but in no way do we have any evidence, medical or whatsoever, that proves beyond a doubt that the victims went to hell and came back. There is a medical reason for the symptoms - not a religious one," Stokes explained.

  "What about the preacher who said it's true?" a tiny, wrinkled woman shouted from the crowd.

  "What preacher? Here's a copy of the article and it says a church official made that statement not a preacher. A church official could be an assistant. It could even be one of the choir members or a janitor who happened to be there at the time when the reporter called. No one that we know of is quoted in the story. There are no names. As far as I'm concerned and this hospital, the story cannot be confirmed," Stokes said. "It's just another effort at sensationalism."

  Several people in the crowd laughed.

  "Come on, Jerry. I told you this was a hoax," a tall, lanky man said. "Did you really believe that someone could go to hell and come back? Come on let's go home. This was a waste of time."

  "Yeah," another voice came out of the crowd. "I could have finished my laundry."

  "Well, I don't know," Jerry said. "I've always thought that what the newspapers printed was true."

  "When are you going to grow up, Jerry? Come on let's go home," said another man.

  The crowd slowly dispersed and the lobby emptied out.

  "That was easier than I thought. Let's hope it stays that way," Stokes said.

  "We should call you spin doctor," Carson replied. "You defused that story in a split second. That was brilliant."

  "All in a day's work. Let's go back to my office. I have some information for you."

  "You mean the cooked man?" Carson asked.

  "That's the one."

  Loss of Faith - Chapter 14

  Gary left the fifth floor of Bayside Medical Center with his stomach squirming. He couldn't get in touch with Julie after leaving several messages at the newspaper and on her cell phone. Gary wondered how she could do this to him - after all, they were engaged to be married, and now the most important person in his life was avoiding him. He was more sad than angry because he knew in his heart this was the beginning of the end. When he reached the hospital lobby, he pulled out his cell phone and made another call to Julie. The phone rang and rang until the call was forwarded to her voicemail.

  "Julie! If you don't call me, we're through!" he shouted into the phone surprised at what he had said. He slammed the phone shut and drove to her apartment. He walked up to the tiny porch, rang the bell, and waited. Nothing. He rang it again and again. Frustrated, he returned to his car and waited. About two hours later, Julie pulled up, and Gary rushed towards the car.

  "Why did you print that story!" he yelled, his face flushed and his eyes on fire.

  Her neutral expression turned to one of agony as she looked up at Gary's wild face. Within seconds, her face relaxed again. Gary gripped the edges of the door as if he were hanging on for life...for their relationship.

  "I'm just doing my job. Do you think I want to work for the Sentinel for the rest of my life? I'm going places," she said calmly. Her face was a sheath of ice.

  "That's right, and I'm not going with you! You've showed me your true colors! I want the ring back! I've had it with you!" he shouted back.

  "It's in the mail," she replied sternly. "And stop calling me...you're using up my minutes on my phone every time I have to retrieve my voicemail. I could miss important calls."

  Gary's face flushed again and his eyes burned white hot.

  "You're a real bitch! Go to hell!" he yelled and walked off.

  Julie flipped her hand to wave him off and pretended he was no longer there. Gary sped off. Seconds later he slammed on his brakes realizing he almost ran a red light. He quickly backed up and waited for the light to change. He wiped his eyes so he could see more clearly.

  Julie whipped her purse onto her sofa as she entered her living room.

  "He called me a bitch! What a bastard!" she said aloud to the empty room. "I'll fix him!"

  She opened the refrigerator, and grabbed a paper-wrapped sub sandwich, and then she picked up her purse, and left for the newspaper office. When she entered, the dark air smelled of burnt coffee and microwave popcorn. She went to her desk, turned on her computer and waited for the machine to boot up. She moved the pointer with her mouse and clicked twice on an icon on the screen named, "Hellfir
e Syndrome." She quickly edited the story. She opened the email program and attached the story. Then she wrote,

  Hi Jacob, I really have a scoop this time. You can be the first to run it. Just make sure my byline is on the story.

  Thanks, Julie

  She waited several minutes and then picked up the phone.

  "Hello, Associated Press, Newark Bureau," the burly voice said.

  "Hi, this is Julie Watson. Is Jacob Schwartz there?" she said.

  She un-wrapped the oil-stained, white paper covering the sub and looked at the hardened bread.

  "Hold on. Let me check," the man said.

  She listened to the silence in the phone and tapped her fingers.

  "No, he just left. Do you want to leave a message?"

  "Yeah. Tell him to check his email. I just sent him a story that I think he would like to run," she said. "He has my cell number if he needs to call me. He can call me anytime."

  "Your name again?"

  "Julie Watson."

  Julie hung up the phone and sat back in the darkness. The white glow from the computer screen lit her face with a spectral gray light. She took a bite from her sub - it was her first meal since breakfast. The lids of her eyes closed slightly and her eyes rolled in pleasure.

  Sunday Mass - Chapter 15

  Linda shivered from the cold rain that seemed to permeate through her clothes as they approached the tall oak double doors of the Ocean Village Methodist Church.

  "I guess that story really scared a lot of people," Carson said, opening the thick, heavy door to the one hundred-year-old church.

  "Oh, yeah, I've never seen it so crowded."

  "Me neither."

  Linda and Carson moved through the crowd to get a better view. They stopped at a row of beige metal folding chairs.

  "They had to bring the folding chairs out of the rec room," an elderly man with a large nose and leathery face told them as they stood near the chairs. His eyes seemed to be peering out through a mask as he stared at them in a funny way.

  A few minutes later, the crowd became silent and Pastor James Millard entered the room and stepped up to the pulpit with a smile.

  "Good morning. I see we have many of our friends here today that we haven't seen in a while. Well, I hope you are all feeling well, and can join us regularly. Today, I want to talk about a particular story I read in the newspaper this week about the rise of Satanism and a particular incident that occurred at the hospital involving what I call a peculiar disease - a disease I call Satan's disease. It's another one of his temptations to see how loyal you are to God and your faith. It's a way to sway you to have doubts about your faith in the hopes that you will leave our church and join his. Should we conclude that sin and Satan actually control the world? Satan would like you to believe that he controls the world so you will fear him. He made that boast to Christ in Luke 4:6. However, Satan is the father of lies and must not be believed. Some dear believers have concurred with Satan's claim, which is most dishonoring to Christ. It is true that Satan is far superior in strength and wisdom than man, but it is also true that God has granted him a degree of influence over wicked men and institutions. Satan is not independent of God. There is only one absolute Sovereign in the universe and that is God, according to Dan 4:34-35," the pastor explained. He raised a small glass of water to his lips and drank.

  "The Christian journey is like a walk of faith. It requires that we put our faith in the Lord. We don't know what the future holds, but we do know we have a God we can trust who will be with us every step of the way. By knowing that God is with us, we can walk by faith and not by sight alone. The root of most of our problems is original sin - lack of faith. When we place ourselves at the center, we fall and we are miserable. When we allow God to be the center we find the joy described in Revelation 7:17.

  We've also been content to allow people to stop with only a second-grade Christian education, and then we wonder why their lives are spiritually empty and they are unable to stand up to a crisis in life. We're teaching a faith that lives with integrity that is taught with credibility and relevance. I want us to start teaching the biblical story so that it is relevant to our modern lives, important to us and credible. I want it to be understood by our children and ourselves so that it determines the way we see the world and how we live our lives. We need to make our beliefs more relevant to modern living, and I want all of you to help. We are all God's children. You have nothing to worry about if your faith is strong. Good reigns over evil, but sometimes it seems that evil is stronger and this is hard to accept. It is only another test of our faith and its strength. The weak will fall into the clutches of Satan, while the strong, the faithful, the true believers go on forever with our Father in heaven," the pastor explained.

  He looked down at his bible, and then raised the glass again to his lips. He looked out over the congregation, rows of heads anxiously waiting for him to say more.

  "'Go ye therefore and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost. Teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you, and lo I am with you always even unto the end of the world,' from Matthew 28:19-20. Now I would like to hear what you think about this," Pastor Millard said.

  A bald man with gold wire-rimmed glasses raised his hand. His white, wrinkled hand shook nervously.

  "Yes, Mr. Whitehead," the pastor said.

  "How do you explain my wife's burned skin? She swears she's being punished and was sent to hell," Homer explained.

  "I don't think she went to Satan's home. The symptoms have to do with something medical. The experience she had was probably a reaction of some sort to the accident. The mind works in strange ways," Pastor Millard explained. "But these symptoms whatever they are, have given Satan an excellent opportunity to doubt our beliefs."

  "Well, you're gonna have to convince her of that. She's pretty shook up and believes she went to hell. I'm not so sure you're telling us everything," Homer responded.

  "I'm sure there is an explanation for this, and you just have to believe," the pastor said. "I will talk to her personally."

  "I heard that one of the doctors...what's his name, Hyll, had the same thing happen to him, and you just said it was the work of the devil...so I think they really went to hell," Willard McJames shouted from a pew in the back.

  "Well, Willard, if that's what you believe, then I think you should be here on more Sundays," Pastor Millard said. "You would think differently."

  Laughter escaped from the audience and echoed in the high ceiling and around the tiny stained glass windows like the flapping wings of a thousand wild birds. Willard stood up quickly as if his seat were on fire.

  "Well, I'm not gonna take this! I think we should go to a higher authority. I think we should talk to the church elders," Willard yelled over the laughter.

  The crowd went silent, and then flared up with everyone talking at once.

  Linda looked at Carson - his lips were curled tightly as he tapped his hand on the side of his leg.

  "May I have your attention, please!" a voice boomed over the audience. "May I have your attention?"

  A man stepped out of the crowd from the back of the church. Heads turned and eyes widened. The noise slowly died down.

  "I'm Doctor Carson Hyll, and I suffered from the Hellfire Syndrome," he announced.

  The crowd went silent as if the dark chill from outside had seeped into the room and paralyzed them.

  "My belief in God and church are as strong as anyone's, and I experienced it, and I don't believe I went to hell. There is a medical explanation for the symptoms, but we haven’t found it yet. I don't believe I died and came back. I don't believe anybody has...I believe something is happening and that we just don't have enough information to make any solid conclusions," Carson explained.

  "Willard, Martha always said you should come to church more," a large, overweight woman from the front row shouted, piercing the audience with her booming voice. "Ever sinc
e she died, we ain't seen you in here since."

  "Shusss, Loretta. Keep your opinions to yourself," Willard shot back. "The world would be a lot better off."

  "Don't push your luck, Willard. Everybody knows you as the neighborhood grouch," the woman fired back.

  The audience laughed again. Linda looked at her husband and sensed something was wrong. It was the way he talked to the congregation and the look in his eyes when the crowd laughed. Something was not right, but she didn't know what. She was in a fog that was slowly swallowing her.