The Church

by Wisdom King

  “Perhaps I wasn’t so clear.” He added, more calmly this time. “Why aren’t you doing your job?” He raised two blond eyebrows and clasped his hands together as he stared at the two security guards.

  “I...sir...we...it was his...” The brown haired one stuttered.

  “It was his birthday...and we decided to celebrate...” The other man filled in for him as he pointed at the sleeping man sitting directly in front of the priest.

  “I see. It’s...” Father Dennis then yanked the hair of the man in front him and looked at his name tag. The man didn’t even flinch. “Mr. Henry’s birthday today.” He said as he hit the drunken man’s head against the counter. Cussing like a sailor, the man finally woke up and grabbed his nose.

  “What the actual fu...” Before he could even finish his sentence, a hand hit him across the face, causing him to fall from the high chair and into the remaining pieces of broken glass on the floor in front of Clarke. The other two abruptly stood up from their chairs and helped out their friend to his feet. A glaring red mark was beginning to form at the side of his left cheek and blood was dripping from his nose.

  “Care to explain why there’s a broken bottle of gin on the floor right now, Mr. Henry?” Father Dennis said in a low, calm voice.

  “Tis’ me birthday, sir. The boys and I thought we could celebrate...and maybe go out for a couple of drinks.” He said in a thick English accent. Clarke knew Henry Abner. In fact, he interviewed him himself when Henry applied for the job. According to his story, Henry’s a father of two from Birmingham. He came to America in hopes of finding a better job than the one he had back in England. As far Clarke knows, Henry didn’t have any near relatives in this country.

  “It was just a bottle, that’s all.” He mumbled as he wiped the blood from his nose.

  “Of course. It was just a bottle. There’s no harm in that, son.” Dennis said as he put both his hands on either side of Henry’s face. “But have you forgotten where you are?”

  “Sir?”

  Without even a hint of hesitation, the priest drove his knee against the drunken man’s crotch. He wheezed as he knelt down on the floor in front of him. As the two men made an advance towards the priest, Clarke dropped the shards and grabbed both by the shoulders.

  “Trust me; you don’t want to get into this.” He whispered loud enough for both of them to hear. In front of them, Father Dennis kicked and hit the birthday boy with an intense fury, reciting a soft prayer for him with every punch.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” The brown haired man said as he turned to face Clarke.

  “No, I’m not.” He deadpanned.

  “The guy’s a priest!” The other man said, flinching at every blow Henry took.

  “Exactly.”

  Chapter 7

  “Ol’ Macdonald had a farm E I E I O.”

  “Could you fucking stop that?”

  Clarke shut his lips and glanced at the sulking man from the rear-view mirror. He had his arms crossed against his chest and he was looking out of the open window, the cold wind blowing against his already messy mop of chestnut brown hair. From the passenger seat, he could see both of the men without having to turn his body around to face them, making his habit of stalking unknown people much easier to execute.

  He shifted his gaze to the other man, the blond one. Judging from the crows feet on the sides of his eyes, he looked to be about 40 years old and lonely. He carried a sad look in his brown eyes as looked straight at the road ahead through the tinted windshield. As if he felt Clarke staring at him, he looked at the rear-view mirror and his lips curled into a nasty snarl as he stared into Clarke’s eyes.

  “And on his farm, he had a cow, E I E I O...” Clarke whispered as he stared at the old man. He could tell by the glare in his eyes that he was not at all pleased with his singing. Clarke himself held a different look in his gaze – he looked at him as calmly as he would look at a book, all silent and judging yet eerily calm.

  “What are you looking at, pretty boy?” He said in a low, harsh voice. His companion looked away from the highway and stared curiously at the two men.

  “Nothing. Just looking at your direction.” Clarke nonchalantly whispered back.

  “Well then stop looking here.”

  “What’s going on?”

  Both men immediately shut up as Father Dennis opened his mouth. He had a soft, chilling voice that’s so intense that even as he whispered, you could hear him even in a rowdy, crowded room. Clarke lowered his head and looked at his hands. He wore a pair of thick leather gloves lined with wool on the inside, and so was Father Dennis.

  Before he and Father Dennis left the building, the priest threw the pair at his bewildered face and ordered him to put it on. Considering that the cold season was over, Clarke found it rather odd that he should wear winter gloves, but he followed his orders all the same.

  “Your little parish boy won’t stop looking at me.” The old man said.

  “The boy can look wherever he wants.” Father Dennis said as he quickly looked over his shoulder to cast a look on the old man. “It’s a free country, and by the will of God, this parish boy can do as he pleases.” He added calmly.

  “I’m not a boy anymore, Father, I’m...” Before Clarke could even finish his sentence, they took a sharp left turn into the rough terrain by the side of the road.

  “Are you insane?!” The brown haired man exclaimed.

  “Calm down, boys. We’re just taking a quick shortcut to the hospital. I know this place like the back of my hand, so don’t worry.”

  “We could’ve just followed the road!”

  “It’s a shortcut.” Father Dennis shifted his emerald eyes from the road to the reflection of the man in the backseat. The brown haired man immediately quieted down. Clarke knew that look all too well. To him, that look meant “do as I say,” and dear God, you should.

  They traveled through the rocky path for quite some time until they reached a small opening in the trees. He parked the car in the middle of it. All around them was a thicket of tall trees that seemed to touch the sky.

  “Gentlemen, please follow me outside.” Baffled, the three men stepped out of the car. Clarke looked up the magnificent sky above. With the absence of any light from below, the stars shone brighter above. The whole forest was illuminated by the low-hanging moon, creating a serene picture. While Clarke was busy taking in the scene, Father Dennis stood in front of the van and looked at the two men stepping out of the car. Still looking up, Clarke heard something click.

  “I thought we were going to the hospital?” One of them said.

  “Henry‘s probably dying because of you, you sick fuck!”

  “Take us to the hospital now.”

  “I won’t be taking you to the hospital.” The priest said, calmly walking towards the two men. “The police will.” Clarke’s head snapped back at the scene and looked at the three men across the car. The two security guards stood in front of the tall man in black. The priest had replaced his clerical uniform with a black coat and a pair of black pants and shoes, making him look even more intimidating.

  “What?” Clarke heard himself say. The priest, still looking at the two men, calmly replied,

  “Son, these two men are guilty of murdering Mr. Henry Abner.”

  “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?” The brown haired man exclaimed as he started towards the tall man, but before he could even get near, the priest took out a gun from his coat and pointed it at his head. The man stopped short in his tracks and looked straight at the barrel of the gun.

  “Okay....calm down...” He said as he slowly raised two shaky hands in the air in surrender.

  “Don’t worry, boys. I won’t turn you in.” Father Dennis said as he lowered the gun. “However, I might if you don’t follow my orders. And believe me, when it comes to my word against yours, who do you think the cops will listen to? And when the cops have locked you up, the wrath of God will come visiting you. I am his wrath!! ”

  “Wh
y should we follow your orders, Father?” The old man scornfully spat out.

  “Please just do as he says.” Clarke suddenly blurted out. He’s seen this go down one too many.

  The priest shifted his gaze from the stubborn man in front of him to the old man who stood just beside the car door. In five long strides, he reached the man looked him straight in the eyes.

  “Have you forgotten yourself, sir?” He whispered in a low voice. He stared at the old man with unblinking cold eyes. “We are doing the Lord’s work. You came to me to fulfill the Lord’s wishes and you dare question my authority? Have4 you forgotten your oath?” He whispered.

  “Please, just do what he tells you to do and this will all be over soon,” Clarke said as he rounded the car and stood beside the flabbergasted young man.

  “Stay out of this, son.” Father Dennis said without averting his gaze from the old man. “Now, you will take out the rotting corpse of the devil incarnate from my van quietly and patiently. Do you understand?” He whispered as he raised the gun and pressed it against the man’s jaw.

  “DO YOU FUCKING UNDERSTAND?!!” He yelled out in a cruel, frightening voice.

  “Yes.” The old man whispered meekly, “Dave, help me get him out.”

  “No way, man,” Dave said before Clarke pushed him towards the pair.

  “Please, Dave, just help me get him out.” The old man said as he looked deep into the priest’s intimidating gaze. As Dave got near, he saw the gun being pressed against the old man’s jaw. Slowly but surely, they approached the car and opened the door on the back. Inside, they saw Henry sprawled on the floor, his blood staining the carpet. You could barely recognize his face beneath the swelling and the blood. A couple of his front teeth were missing, one of his eyes was swollen shut, and his right arm was twisted in an unimaginable position.

  Meanwhile, as the two men struggled to take out the broken body of their friend, Father Dennis took out a shovel from the back and handed it to Clarke. He pointed towards an empty spot in the middle of the clearing and gave him a gentle nudge towards it.

  “P-please...help...me...” Henry groaned as the two men laid him down beside the car. The moonlight shone against his twisted body, making him look like he just dug himself out of a grave. The color of his uniform was barely even recognizable from all the blood. The priest knelt down beside his head and looked at his eye.

  “Shh...calm down...” He said as he tried to caress his head, but the man flinched away from his touch. Angered by this, he gave him a firm slap across the face, causing him to spit out even more blood. “We will help you. In fact, to be more specific, your insolent little friends will.” He stood up and walked towards the two men and offered them the gun.

  “No...no...fuck no, man!” Dave cried out as he backed away from the priest.

  “We – we can’t do this, Father, please. He’s our friend!” The older man said. Clarke tried his best to ignore what was happening behind him as he furiously dug through the undergrowth.

  “No pressure. It’s perfectly understandable.” Father Dennis said as he raised both hands, mocking surrender. “But someone has to pay for the monstrous things you men have done in the house of the Lord. But who?” He raised a gloved hand to his face and tapped his chin.

  “How about that beautiful wife of yours, Dave? I hear she’s pregnant again.” He said, looking at the confused young man leaning against the car.

  “What?”

  “Or how about that son of yours?” He said, looking at the old man. “His name’s Robert, yes? Still lives in that shabby apartment in Brooklyn with his mom.” Color abandoned his face at the sound of his son’s name. He stood there with his mouth half opened in disbelief as the priest held out the gun once more.

  “For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction, isn’t that right?” He started walking towards the two of them with slow, taunting steps. “Now, drinking is absolutely forbidden inside the estate, especially during work hours. I brought you three here to teach you a very valuable lesson. We are doing the Lord’s work in there, and anything – absolutely anything – that comes in my way gets what they deserve.” He sticks out the gun to both of them.

  “So, who will it be?”

  Silence fell all over the forest. Not a sound could be heard aside from the steady beat of the shovel against the moist dirt and the heavy breathing of the broken man lying on the forest floor. After what felt like an eternity, the old man took the gun from his hand and walked over to Henry.

  “I’m sorry, buddy.” He whispered as he cocked the gun and pointed it towards his head. “I have a son. I – I can’t let him do this. I’m so sorry.” Tears started welling up in his eyes as he struggled to keep his hands steady.

  “Please...Ted...please...” Henry whispered, struggling to even let out a single word. “PLEASE!”

  His screams were cut short when Ted finally pulled the trigger. When opened his eyes, he saw blood and brains spattered all over the grass. Henry’s eye bulged out of its socket and blood oozed out from the gaping hole between his two swollen brows. Trembling, Ted dropped the gun and fell to his knees, crying.

  “Don’t cry. You should be dancing in glee! The Lord is happy with you!” Father Dennis suddenly exclaimed as he pulled the man off the ground and got him to his feet. Behind him, the young man stood shocked as he watched the priest nonchalantly pat the old man on the back.

  “Clarke, you done there?”

  “Yeah,” Clarke yelled back as he climbed off the hole and walked over to them, trying to mask the fact that all the while, he’s been trying not to trip over his own feet.

  “Help these two boys put the devil in his bed.”

  “Yes, Father.” The priest watched with idle eyes as the three men struggled to pull the heavy body of Henry into the grave.

  “Now, Clarke, please cast a prayer over the body of this soulless prick. Just keep it short.” He said as he looked down scornfully at the corpse that lay bent on the ground. The young man, still tired from the digging, picked up the shovel once more and lowered his head.

  “Henry Abner, may the Lord bless you, may the Lord keep you, and may His face shine upon your poor soul.” He paused for a few seconds before taking in a deep a breath.

  “In the name of the Father...” He said as he shoveled dirt over the body.

  “And of the Son...” He heard the two men join along in his prayer.

  “And of the Holy Spirit.”

  Chapter 8

  Kane parked the car and stepped out into the parking lot in front of the church. The whole area was covered in a thick blanket of trees that it almost seemed as if the church just sprouted in the middle of the forest. He looked up and marveled at the beauty of the church in front of him. It stood nearly 3 stories high with old stone walls and tall, painted windows, with each pane showing an idol. Kane didn’t know much about architecture, but he knows a good building when he sees one, and in his eyes, this building was art.

  He took his phone out from his pocket and called Freddy as he walked towards the church doors. Two men stood by the church doors and looked at him coming in. He gave them each a nod as he dipped his fingers in holy water and got in.

  “You there yet?” Freddy said when he finally picked up.

  “Yeah, I’m in. This place was farther than I thought.” Kane had to wake up at 4 in the morning for a five-hour drive all the way to the other side of town. After downing two cups of black coffee and swallowing half a bagel, he got in his car and hit the road to the location Marisol had written in her email.

  “I’m still confused, though. She keeps mentioning this house...I don’t know what she’s going on about here, but she never mentions where it’s located.”

  “Yeah, I know. I’ve read that too. It seems like she just ripped that off a sci-fi book or something.” Kane said as he looked around the crowded the church. Every once in a while, someone would cast him an unfamiliar look which he then would return in a less friendly manner, of course.


  “What does it look like? The church, I mean.”

  “Just like she described it. The altar looks amazing, man. The crucifix looks like it’s been carved by a master sculptor or some shit. The backdrop’s painted gold and there are some pictures painted on the ceiling as well. Pretty cool, if you ask me.” He said as observed the whole place. Indeed, the church did look grand compared to all the other ones he’s been in.

  Out of nowhere, he felt a strong tap on his shoulder. He turned his head and looked up at the young man in black clerical uniform. He had very dark hair that made his white skin look paler than it already was. He was staring blankly into Kane’s eyes with the most hauntingly blue eyes he had ever seen.

  “Excuse me, sir. Please turn off your gadget. The service is about to start.” He said in a low, calm voice before walking towards the back of the church where the members of the church were gathering.

  “I found him, Freddy.”

  “What?” Kane hung up before Freddy could even finish speaking.

  For an hour and a half, Kane spent the whole service observing the young man through the reflection on his phone. Everything about him seemed odd to him. His every move seemed to be robotic as if he knew someone would be watching him.

  Finally, after the mass ended, Kane prepared to confront him. A million questions ran through his head. He thought of all the things he wanted to tell him, and of all the things he would like to do to his stupid face. He got up and started to walk towards the young man. He stopped short when a tall, blond man approached his subject. He stood beside one of the many statues near the pair and pretended to observe it.

  “Did you listen to Father Ian’s message, son?” The tall man said. Kane studied the familiar brown bag he carried on his shoulder with curious eyes, carefully trying not to draw too much attention to himself.