by Warren Cain
Any man at this factory would jump at the invitation she gives me almost every day. Kirk always compared his lack of interest in dating her to the way the mind made one lose their taste for a certain food after that food has made them vomit.
He never spoke to anyone about the night of the wreck anymore. At first he tried to speak to some friends about it, but he could tell from their reaction they didn’t understand. They tried, with good intentions, to offer advice, but he just wanted someone to talk to that understood his misery.
At least the people out here in Washington don’t have a clue who I really am. Not that it matters much because I still do and I can’t get away from me.
His family had been good to him through his ordeal. They stuck with him no matter how wrong he had been or how much damage he had done, but even they failed to understand what he was going through. This would be his fourth job since high school. Losing Sarah had turned his life upside down. He had trouble focusing on work. The guilt he felt was unbearable. It had been seven years since he had taken Sarah’s life. This was the way he looked at it. The way people treated him confirmed the guilt he felt in his heart. He wondered if they thought that would make him sorry for what he had done. He didn’t know how he could be any sorrier than he already was.
Kirk remembered the wreck and the years following. It was like dropping a giant nuclear bomb. He would think about the people he had hurt by killing Sarah: Sarah’s parents, grandparents, sisters, brother, friends, and himself—everyone that knew and loved her, he had hurt. Worse than he ever hurt anyone before he hurt all these people. Every dream Sarah and he had, he had taken away. Everything she was or was going to be was gone because of one night of carelessness.
Kirk tried to put it out of his mind, but when it did creep back in, the waves of guilt would be almost unbearable. He had vowed from that day forth to change. He would try his best not to harm other people. He changed his ways, but it did not seem to matter to anyone who knew him.
He was “the killer” to many of the people in his hometown. No matter how much good he had done in his life before this, or how much he would do, this one moment defined him to the people of his hometown. He was unforgiven by others and by himself.
I’ve hurt people in my life but never to a point that “I’m sorry” wouldn’t take care of the hurt. That thought was unbearable to him.
The probation time he had to serve for his manslaughter charge due to his adolescent status was easy. Death would be better than living with this persistent guilt, he decided as he fantasized about ways to end it. Dad’s old shot gun, he thought. He imagined the cold metal passing through his lips, accidentally scraping his teeth with the barrel. The thoughts seemed real; he smelled the old gunpowder that lightly coated the inside of the barrel as he took one last breath in.
Keep it pointed back.
Kirk heard of people not pointing it far enough back and living through it.
Lots of plastic surgery.
I’ve got to stop thinking like this.
As the days wore on, Kirk entertained the notion of suicide more often. Thinking of ways to release himself from this nightmare of solitude became an obsession. His family tried to reach out to him, but he became withdrawn. Kirk realized the growing insanity that was his mind.
Oh, my God. I’m losing it.
The sobs came uncontrollably. He had never cried so long or so hard in all his life. After what seemed like hours of sobbing, he was exhausted. With the outpouring of emotion came a new resolve to maintain his sanity. He forced himself to finish high school.
“It’s important,” his mom would tell him.
Nothing felt important at the time. He suffered his way through high school. Finishing the high school work was not the problem, but seeing the people he hurt daily was torture. This town was too small to avoid it. He could not make eye contact with the people in this town. So many people loved Sarah, and he had taken her away. They said nothing to him, but it showed in the way they looked away as they passed him. The stares they gave across the room. The whispering when they thought he couldn’t hear.
He left Lansing the day he graduated. The few times he returned, he visited his family but gave no forewarning to his arrival. Five years had passed, and all the counseling and therapy he had gone through had little effect. He thought of turning to drinking but considering it was the problem to begin with he stayed clear of it.
That would be the end of what little chance I have to be perceived as a good human being by the people back home.
Chapter 29
Kirk stepped out of his apartment building into the pouring rain. The rain had continued for the past four days and showed no sign of ending.
It was Sunday morning, and he was on his way to church. Out of habit from his childhood he rarely missed going to church. His parents were devout Catholics who only missed Sunday Mass in extreme situations.
Better take the car, even though it’s just a few blocks. I’d be soaked by the time I got there in this downpour.
Kirk jumped into the car. Through the rain he noticed a figure standing in front of the apartment buildings across the street.
Is he looking at me?
He rolled down his window to allow for a better view. Kirk partially closed his left eye as he struggled to see into the rain that was blowing into his window. The well-dressed man smiled at Kirk from under his black umbrella.
Strange!
The man waved at Kirk and with a grin turned and walked down the street.
If he didn’t have that umbrella, I would say he doesn’t realize it’s raining so hard. Sure are some crazy people around here. Better hurry—five minutes and I’m gonna be late.
His parents always made sure to arrive at church with a good twenty minutes to spare. A habit he had broken from his childhood. I know I’m not that late. There’s usually a flood of people this close to Mass time. The rain must have kept a lot of them home, I guess.
Kirk quickly walked up the stairs into the church, trying to stay as dry as he could, still surprised at the lack of people coming into the church. The church was empty except for two older women standing near the front engaged in some conversation that had them both excited enough to talk at the same time.
I know it’s Sunday. How come no one’s here?
“Did ye forget to spring forward, lad?”
Kirk turned to see a short balding man with a thick Irish accent coming out of the small room at the rear of the church.
“What’s that, Father?” replied Kirk half startled.
“Daylight savings time. Ye were supposed to set your clock forward one hour last night,” answered the priest, smiling at the confused look on Kirk’s face.
“Oh, that’s right. That explains why there’s no one here.”
“Saint Peter’s has a 12:00 Mass on the other side of town,” said the priest, “if yer interested.”
“Thanks, Father,” replied Kirk who had already decided on staying here for a quick prayer and then heading back to his apartment to watch the game at noon.
Kirk walked towards the front of the large church. He was surprised how his footsteps echoed in church with no one else here. He was rarely in church other than Sundays when the church was full of people.
“Ye should sit that close to the front during Mass, lad,” said Father William with a smile as he headed into the sacristy.
Kirk smiled. He did usually have a tendency to take a seat towards the back of the church during the Mass. Now with no one here it seemed fitting to take a seat towards the front.
Kirk knelt down and let the silence of the church relax him. As he prayed, thoughts of Sarah and feelings of guilt began to take over.
This had become a way of life for him. The guilt would come with no warning, especially in moments of silence. Tears came as he replayed the events of the night Sarah died.
<
br /> Where am I? Kirk looked down the embankment to see his truck on its top with steam rolling up from the front end.
“SARAH!”
Kirk stumbled down the hill, falling into the truck as the momentum carried him down the steep incline faster than his wounded body could control.
“Sarah?”
Kirk was certain when he first saw her bloody face and closed eyes as she lay on the interior side of the roof that she was dead.
“Oh, Sarah.”
Sarah’s eyes snapped open and a look of intense pain crossed her face.
“Oh, Kirk, it hurts,” she moaned.
“Hold on . . . I’ll go get help. Just hold on.”
“You suppose it will ever quit raining?” asked a voice interrupting Kirk’s thought.
Kirk turned startled to see the man that had been standing across the street from his apartment earlier that morning.
“Do I know you?”
“No, you don’t, and I don’t know you, but I’ve been sent here to help you get rid of your guilt.”
How does he know about the guilt?
Up close the man looked a little older than Kirk had previously estimated. His suit, despite being out in the rain, appeared to be neatly pressed with nothing out of place. He held his hat in his hand in a way that made Kirk assume was out of respect for being in a church. His glasses gave him a look of intelligence.
“There is an organization of people who have suffered from the same type of guilt that has haunted you. It’s an order so secret that few people know it exists and even they are uncertain of how large the organization is.”
“What does this organization do?”
“Redeems the sinner. Removes the guilt that has stained their soul for too long. It’s a second chance,” exclaimed the man with a sudden glow in his eye.
The man stood, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a business card.
“Think about it,” he said, handing the card to Kirk. “You’ve learned to live with the guilt, now you need to decide if you want to live without it. It’s time to defeat your dragon.”
The man turned and walked away.
“But how . . .”
The man kept walking as though he didn’t hear him. Kirk looked at the card. “The Order of the Redeemed” was in large gothic-looking letters. Underneath in smaller text was an address: 564 High View Road, Indemnity, South Dakota.
Chapter 30
Lynn sat on the edge of the mattress in the small bedroom of the Orders house in Walong, China. She had just checked the hallway to make sure no one was stirring about.
This is such a pathetic ritual, she thought as she pulled a worn-out picture of her little sister out of her purse. Tears instantly began running down her face.
“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed. “I . . .” She swallowed hard. “I didn’t know it would happen.”
I hope this redeemed stuff works, she thought, trying to control her sobbing that was growing louder.
A knock on the door caused her heart to jump.
“Who’s there?” she mumbled, wiping the tears from her cheeks.
“Lynn, my name is Larry Kincaid. I’m with the Order. I would like to talk to you if you have a minute.”
I don’t usually let strangers into my room, but then again, I don’t usually take trips to strange places like this. After all, doing the stuff I normally do hasn’t gotten me anywhere.
“Come in,” she replied, opening the door for him. “Lynn Won.”
Larry shook her outstretched hand. “Larry Kincaid. Nice to meet you, Lynn.”
He paused for a second uncertain what to say to get the conversation in a direction that might help Lynn comprehend she wasn’t alone and that some people would truly understand her.
Help me out here, God. I don’t even know what to say, he thought as a feeling of certain failure of his mission overtook him. Why did you send me? There has to be someone better.
“How was your trip here?”
“It was fine,” she replied. “Traveled about one hundred and twenty miles to get here.”
“I had a vision of what happened that night, Lynn.”
She folded her hands and bowed her head slightly.
“No. No. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I just want you to know I understand how that can happen. Once upon a time, I let myself get out of control with power, and people died because of some of the decisions I made. But you have to realize when you chose to do the drugs you didn’t make a malicious decision for your sister to die. I saw the man who went in that room. It was him that killed her.”
“BUT I LET HIM IN THE HOUSE!”
“Easy, Lynn. You don’t have to be so eager to convict yourself. You didn’t have a . . .” Larry noticed a picture of a young black-haired girl sitting on the bed next to Lynn’s purse. Goosebumps instantly formed on his arms, and a chill ran through him.
“Is everything alright?”
“This is Susie,” he stated in a manner that made Lynn wonder if he was asking or telling her.
“Yes, that’s Susie.”
“She’s your sister.”
“Yes.”
“Lynn, I’m going to have to ask you to sit down while I tell you a story about your Susie.”
“You know her?”
Larry shook his head.
“I used to be a businessman. Let’s just say I could have done better with my business practices and leave it at that. To make a long story short I ended up face down with a bullet in the back of my head. I was dead. Have you ever heard of a near-death experience?”
Lynn nodded.
“I was taken to a beautiful place where I was shown my faults and some of the things I should do to redeem myself. Lynn, I met Susie in heaven.”
Lynn’s head remained tilted to the floor as her brown eyes looked upward to examine his face, searching for any expression that would give his story credibility.
“She was happy. I was told to take her to a light a long distance away from us at the time. We rode a horse past trees and streams. It was the most beautiful place I had ever seen.”
Lynn listened intently as he told her about the union of souls he had taken Susie to.
“I’m so happy to hear she’s in that place.” She jumped off the bed and gave Larry a hug, feeling a connection to her sister through him. “Thank you. Thank you,” she sobbed.
“It was my pleasure. She’s a fine girl,” he replied, breaking the hug so he could look at her.
“She was a special person. After spending a little time with her I see why God wanted her back with him.”
Lynn smiled at the comment as she wiped the tears off her face.
Larry turned and walked toward the door. “Oh. By the way, she didn’t remember any of the details about her death.”
A sense of relief came over Lynn at the thought of Susie forgetting the last horrific moments of her life. Larry closed the door, leaving her with a smile that would last longer than any she had had for the past two and a half years.
Chapter 31
Kirk sat at the small table in the corner of his kitchen flipping the business card across the fingers of his left hand.
This can’t be right. But how did he know? Who was he?
He wanted to believe he could live like he did before the accident. He had come to envy people who had never allowed themselves to stumble and cause themselves guilt.
What if I could go through one day and not think about it? One day. Just go to my usual day of work or enjoy my time off with no thought of the accident or the people I hurt. Sarah, would it be okay if I didn’t think about you for a little while?
What if I do let go? Does that mean I don’t love you anymore, Sarah, or that I just forgot about you? I can’t just give up the way I feel about you . . . I mean, felt about you.
> Man, I don’t even know if I’m talking to me or Sarah. I guess she’s not alive anymore. I need to stop trying to talk to her.
And what about the people I hurt? Don’t they deserve for me to feel guilty about what I’ve done? Isn’t it an injustice for them if I move on?
They don’t have any intention of forgiving me. Do I deserve their forgiveness? Hell, do I deserve forgiveness from myself?
Maybe I’ll never get their forgiveness, but at least I can try to forgive myself.
The factory he worked for had a policy of one week’s notice for taking vacation, so Kirk still had a week to decide before he was able to leave Washington. By the week’s end, he had decided to take the trip.
Five days of vacation, so I’ll have to be back by Monday.
Friday, after work, he loaded up his small car with the provisions he felt he would need to make the twenty-hour trip. As the miles passed, Kirk’s mind was racing. His thoughts went from being redeemed, to the certainty there was nothing in South Dakota but a hoax. This idea had been in the back of his mind but did not come to the front until he crossed the Washington–Idaho state line.
There may not even be anything at this address. What if it’s someone’s house who doesn’t know what the heck I’m talking about? I’m just going to fill up with gas at this convenience store and turn around and head back for home.
I can show up at work on Monday and save my vacation for later. This is one of the dumbest things I’ve ever done.
I guess sometimes when you want something bad enough you don’t question it fully.
Kirk pulled around the gas station after filling up and grabbing a cup of coffee. At the exit to the gas station stood a large man holding a sign Kirk was certain would say, “Will work for food.” Kirk reached into his wallet to pull out a dollar. He had trouble sleeping when he went by these guys without giving them something.
Kirk’s eyes met the nervous-looking man’s wide green eyes. He gave the man an uncertain smile as he rolled down the window. Kirk’s heart skipped a beat. On the sign he was holding in large green letters written in crayon were the words Indemnity, South Dakota.