The Departed

by Chase McCown

  “Ha, I remember that. Remember when he was up teaching, and I was opening up a glue stick, but it was stuck? I finally got it open, but the insides flew out and almost hit him,” Charlie recalled, gesturing with his hands to reenact the scene.

  “Hahaha, I do remember that. He never even noticed, did he?”

  Charlie chuckled. “Not until you fell out of your chair laughing.”

  “That’s right, I’d forgotten all about that. He probably would have sent us to the office, too, if he hadn’t been so busy making fun of us.”

  They talked for hours until at last the owners told them they would soon be closing for the night. It was the most fun Charlie had enjoyed in months.

  “I’d better head back to the hotel. I had a great time tonight, Chuck,” Cathy said.

  “Thanks, Cathy, so did I. It’s been too long since we’ve seen each other.”

  “Yeah, it has. Maybe we can meet up again sometime.”

  “That’d be nice,” Charlie said.

  “Well, I’d better get going. Take care, Chuck,” said Cathy, walking out into the drizzling rain.

  “You too, Cathy.”

  She paused for a moment just outside the doorway and looked back at Charlie. She opened her mouth as if to say something. Then she shook her head, smiled at him, and turned back again to hail a nearby taxi. The taxi stopped for her, and Charlie watched as it sped away a few moments later and vanished from sight.

  Charlie headed back to his apartment and had a pleasant sleep for the first time in weeks. He didn’t worry about his job, or his apartment, or anything else. He was just happy to have been able to spend that time with Cathy and sorry she had to leave on Sunday.

  Chapter 3

  February 22nd, 2025. Portland, Oregon.

  A minister in Portland, Oregon prayed over his congregation after he had finished with his sermon.

  “... and may He bless and protect us, Amen.”

  After he lifted his face, he looked out into the pews and opened his eyes. Only a handful of members remained in what had once been a thriving church. Whole pews now sat unused as membership dwindled, sometimes through the loss of older members and sometimes through the transfer of younger members to other churches. At this point, the church was thousands of dollars in debt, and he was running on a lower salary than minimum wage. His church wasn’t closed yet, and until it was, he would keep preaching.

  He forced a smile that quickly faded before clearing his throat and speaking once more.

  “Thank you all for being here today, and may the Lord watch over you and keep you as you go about the rest of your week. Remember, there’s no church tonight, and next Wednesday is potluck night.”

  The whole church seemed to rise at once, and almost everyone immediately but respectfully headed to the back of the sanctuary, toward the front exit.

  The pastor stayed behind due to a meeting with his deacons.

  As he packed up his Bible, notes, and water bottle, a woman of about fifty approached. A streak of silvery gray ran through her otherwise chestnut-colored hair, and the skin around her eyes was wrinkled with crow’s feet—a byproduct of a life full of hardship and suffering. He knew her well, as he had spent many long hours in the past praying with her. She had been a member of the church since its founding and had often volunteered to work in various church functions and was well-liked by the congregation.

  “Do you have a minute, Brother Howard?”

  “Of course, how can I help you?”

  “Well, it’s my son, Robert...” Her voice suddenly became hushed.

  “He’s been acting strange lately. He doesn’t sleep anymore, he’s out every night going to parties, and he brings home a new girl almost as often as he goes out. I just don’t know what to do anymore.”

  “I understand, Linda. Would you like us to say a prayer over him?”

  “If you have the time, sir.”

  “I always have the time to pray, especially with a brother or sister in need.”

  He held out his hand, and she grasped it, and he led her in a prayer.

  “Lord, we come to you today to ask that you look over Robert. He’s lost and hurting, and we pray your loving hand will guide him and lead him to Your Will. In the name of your precious Son, Jesus, Amen.”

  “Amen,” Linda repeated.

  “Thank you so much, Brother Howard. I feel at peace now. “

  “Glad I could help. If you need anything, you can call me at home anytime. My doors are always open to my congregation.”

  “God bless you, Brother Howard. I will. Thank you again!”

  “No trouble at all, Sister. Have a good day.”

  “You too.”

  She strode more confidently toward the exit now, sure that whatever happened, the Lord’s Will was on it.

  Howard turned his attention back to the upcoming meeting. He gathered the rest of his things, and as he turned to walk into the meeting, his phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello, my name is Patrick Stern. I’m with the collection agency, and we understand that you have some outstanding—”

  “Sorry, I’m going to have to stop you there. I’m walking into a meeting with my deacons. Goodbye, Mr. Stern.”

  “But, sir—”

  Howard hung up on the man. It was bad enough to be harassed by these people, but he couldn’t—and wouldn’t—deal with them while he was at work. He had much more important matters that needed to be attended to.

  “Hey everyone, I’m sorry it took me so long. Linda needed to have a word with me before—”

  “Brother Howard, we lost three more members this week. We’re receiving a thousand dollars less every week in tithes than we need to keep this building in operation. That doesn’t even include salaries. Something has to be done about this, or we’ll all go under. Nobody here wants to see that happen.”

  “I understand things have been hard lately.”

  “It’s worse than that. We got a phone call today. We’ve got a week before they close us down to collect the ten thousand dollars we owe the bank.”

  “Did you ask if we could get an extension?”

  “We did, they said we’re already three months past due as it is.”

  “We can’t come up with that kind of money in a week. They may as well close us down now!” another deacon said.

  “Calm down! Hasn’t God always provided for us in the past? He’ll give us a way out of this. We just have to have a little faith. Is there anything else?” Howard asked.

  “Well, Ms. Betty is having her annual bake sale this coming Friday, and she asked if we’d put it in the bulletin on Wednesday and mention it at the start of the service. That should at least bring in some revenue for us,” one of the deacons suggested.

  “Oh, that’s right, I forgot that was coming up,” Howard said, making a note to remind himself.

  “Anything else?” he asked.

  “We have to start bringing in some more money, Howard. We’re not going to make it much longer. You can’t just keep ignoring the truth,” one of the deacons demanded.

  “I’ve been the pastor here for fifteen years. I was here when the foundation for the building was laid. I’ve given everything I have to this congregation. I just don’t believe He’d let it disappear, all those years of work—” Howard shook his head and heaved a resigned sigh. “If there isn’t anything else, I’m going to go to lunch now. Please, call me if anything changes.”

  “Sure thing,” the deacons replied.

  Howard left through the side exit of the church and found his car in the parking lot. He opened the door, stepped inside, and closed it behind him before hanging his head.

  “God, give me a delivery. The church is going to go under, and I don’t know what to do. I’ve given you this church; it’s yours. If it’s in your will, rescue it. But I know your plans are greater than mine.”

  He opened his Bible and was reassured by a familiar verse.

  “For I know the plans I ha
ve for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.” Jeremiah 29:11

  He had written this in his notes time and time again, outlined it, highlighted it, but for the first time, its message sank in. God assured him that He had a plan for Howard.

  He then started his car and began driving toward his house.

  After lunch, Howard received a phone call from one of his deacons.

  “Sorry, I hope I’m not interrupting you during lunch, but I just spoke to the other deacons, and we have some news. We may have found a way to save the church. Can you come by the church this afternoon, say around four?”

  “Of course! I knew God would give us a way out. I’ll see you at four, Steve.” His fingers shook as he fumbled to hit the end call button.

  A wide grin came over his face, and he couldn’t help but let out a chuckle as his nervousness gave way to relief. Of course God came through, he thought. God always comes through.

  Four o’clock couldn’t seem to come quickly enough for Howard. Minutes turned into hours as he watched them tick by. What did the deacons have in mind, and what news were they talking about? The whole thing was a mystery to him, but he was just happy that they may be able to save the church.

  Finally, the time came to meet with the deacons, and he drove back down to the church. He arrived, and the deacons were waiting for him and greeted him as he reentered the same room in which they had met earlier that morning.

  “We just spoke with Trinity Baptist Church, and they said that they would like to buy this building as a new location for their own church. They have a well-established church that’s already making a great deal of money, and they think with a new name and a new look, they can create a thriving church here.”

  “What about the congregation?”

  “They said they would welcome the existing congregation to join the new church, and they have some of their own members from their other churches moving to this location as well.”

  “What about the staff we have here already?”

  “Well, they said we could reapply for the positions we have now, and they’ll decide on a case-by-case basis on whether or not to hire each person. I really think this could be huge for us. We wouldn’t have to uproot the congregation and who knows, they may even hire you to preach. We would be out of debt, and we’d have a lot of new members, too. What do you think?”

  “I don’t know. Why don’t we pray on it? If nothing else comes up by tomorrow, then that’s what we’ll do.”

  “Yes, sir. Have a good night.”

  “You too, guys. I’ll call you tomorrow when I make my decision.”

  So Howard went home. He prayed that some of the answers he sought would be revealed to him.

  “God, I need your wisdom. Please, show me your will. Should we sell the church building to Trinity? You know our needs, God. You know what’s best for us. I thank you for all you’ve done for me and for all you’ve done for the church, and whatever happens, I know it’s for the best. Amen.”

  He took a moment after the prayer in silence, just listening.

  Often God speaks most clearly in these quiet moments, Howard thought to himself.

  At the moment, though, Howard heard only his own shallow breathing.

  He read through his Bible, hoping the answers he sought would be revealed. Around midnight, he put his Bible away and fell asleep.

  The next morning, as the sun broke over the horizon and he awoke, he prayed once more over the decision he would have to make.

  Finally, as dusk approached, he called one of his deacons to announce his decision.

  “Call Trinity Church and tell them we’ll sell them the building.”

  *

  Howard watched as old furniture was replaced with new, crews worked morning and night, and painters and decorators remodeled the building he’d known so long. It hurt to see it happen. But in another way, it made him hopeful for the future of the church.

  Howard wrote out his qualifications as pastor, which felt strange to him. He’d had this job for so long, the thought of re-applying for it was surreal in a way.

  After he had finished with his resume, he prayed over it. He’d been a pastor for a long time. He didn’t know anything else.

  He took his resume with him and drove to Trinity’s church across town to interview for his job as pastor. He arrived a few minutes early, and the church’s secretary led him to the room where the interview would take place.

  “Hello, Brother Howard, how are you doing today?” a tall, thin man with short, brown hair and a goatee asked from the other side of the room.

  The man was sitting in a brown leather chair on one side of a long oak wood desk. Across from the man, and on the other side of the desk, was a similar chair, which the man gestured for Howard to sit in.

  “I’m doing well, how are you?” Howard asked, sitting down in the leather chair and folding his hands in his lap.

  “I’m fine, thank you. Now, what do you think you would be able to add to this church?” the man asked. He looked over Howard carefully while Howard thought of his response.

  “Well, I’ve been a pastor going on thirty years now, and I know most of the people here at the church already. It might be a more comfortable transition if there were a familiar face for them to see every Sunday,” Howard responded.

  It was strange. Howard had been quite nervous before the interview, but now he felt confident. A sense of tranquility came over him as his nerves calmed.

  “What are your plans as far as how to get new members in? You had a problem in your previous church with membership. How do you think you could fix that problem here?”

  “Well, having a new name and a new look goes a long way in and of itself. That’s something we’ve wanted to do for a while, but we haven’t had the resources. We could also go out into the community and perform outreach and hang signs to provide some added attention and interest.”

  The two talked for over an hour about topics from salaries to what Howard intended to preach on. At the end, the interviewer stood and shook Howard’s hand.

  “Thank you, we’ll be in touch, Brother Howard.”

  *

  A few days went by with no news from the church. Finally, the following Friday, Howard received a phone call.

  “Hello, is this Brother Howard?”

  “It is. How may I help you?”

  “We’re sorry to inform you of this, but we’ve decided to go in a different direction for pastor. Thank you for your years of service and loyalty to this church in its most trying years, sir. We just feel this change is in the best interest of the church and will give it the best chance to succeed. Have a good day, sir.”

  Howard tried to reply, but all he could bring himself to do was hang up the phone. The air escaped his lungs, and he fell to his knees in prayer. He felt as if a sledgehammer had slammed into his chest, as if he had just taken a punch to the gut and was on the verge of collapse. He knew whatever came of this would be for the best. He just wished the best didn’t hurt so much.

  Chapter 4

  February 23rd, 2025. Hollywood, California.

  In a movie studio in Hollywood, California, a director arranged the shooting of a B-grade zombie movie. The studio was the second building on the street. The paint of the building was peeling off in several places, and graffiti littered one side of the building. Gang after gang had marked the street as their own, and violence was a recurring theme in the area. The owners, though, hoped the studio would help change the area for the better and give the people there hope for a better future.

  The movie had a very low budget, and most of the actors were volunteers, but one man hoped it would be his ticket to the big time. He had big dreams of fame and money. After all, everyone had to start somewhere, right? And at twenty-four and fresh out of college with his bachelor’s degree in hand, now was his best chance to make a name for himself.

  “Alright, take two. Lights! Camera! And... Action!
” the director shouted as another man clapped the clapperboard to initiate the start of the scene.

  Right on cue, shambling zombies poured out onto a set resembling a deserted highway. Two survivors snuck quietly from cover to cover, trying to be as convincing as possible as they fled from the shambling horde of actors wearing poorly applied latex wounds.

  The man turned to the woman amid the throng, which groaned melodramatically just off camera.

  “Jessica! I… I don’t know if we’ll make it out of this, so I just wanted to let you know… I…”

  He stared deeply into her eyes and drew close to her to meet for the dramatic kiss. His hand gently caressed her cheek, and his lips drew closer to hers. Then both actors were jarred back to reality.

  “Cut! No, no, no. Something’s just not right, and it isn’t her, and it isn’t the zombies. I’m sorry, kid, but I just—”

  He was cut off by the male survivor, who begged, “Oh come on, please? Just one more shot? I know I can get this right! I’ve been rehearsing this for days!”

  “Sorry. Next!”

  The world seemed to go on without him. He felt like a knife had been jabbed into his chest, yet the men on the set paid him no heed as they reset the scene for another shot, the other actors bustling to their positions.

  The security personnel showed him to the door, and he watched in dismay as another actor was brought in to try out for the very same part. He looked on as his replacement went over the lines he’d just acted only moments ago.

  Finally, the men nudged him, which brought him back from his daydreaming. He nodded and headed for the exit. He walked out the side door of the studio into the blinding sun outside.

  Just then, Jacob’s phone began to ring. He hardly noticed at first because he was so deep in thought. When he read the caller ID, he groaned. He answered the phone at last, right as it was about to stop ringing. He would only call back if Jacob didn’t answer.

  “Hey, Dad.”

  “Hey, Jake. How’d it go?”

  “I didn’t get the part.”

  “You’re kidding! Who got it?”