by J. S. Bailey
“That was before certain circumstances changed, but I agree. Of course this all depends on whether or not our chauffeur is ready to go.”
Phil stood up and smoothed out his slacks, looking resigned. “I’ve been ready to go since yesterday. At this rate Allison is going to think I’ve left her.”
Even though Carly assured him that she and Joanna would be able to take care of cleaning up the kitchen, Bobby felt a shred of guilt at leaving the whole mess for them to take care of. “You’re sure you don’t want us to stay a little longer to help out?”
Carly waved her hand in dismissal. “Go on, get to work. We’re big girls here, right Joanna? We can take care of ourselves.”
But Joanna had become sullen and didn’t answer, and as they were leaving Bobby saw tears in her eyes once more.
WHEN BOBBY made it home to change into different clothes, he was at first startled by the lack of Caleb’s car in the driveway, but then the truth returned to him like a knife in the heart.
Bobby went into his room and put on a frayed pair of jeans and a shirt that had acquired a few holes in the last couple years, trying not to think about the empty bedroom next to his. Though Caleb wasn’t one to make much noise, the bungalow’s silence seemed to shout at him: Alone! Alone!
Well, he wouldn’t be alone for long.
Bobby arrived at St. Paul’s just over an hour after he and Randy had first agreed to meet, and as he climbed out of the car, he saw that Randy’s Ford was back from the shop and parked close to where he’d seen it the other night.
A sense of unease gripped him. Whoever cut Randy’s brake line might come back, only this time they might make a sport out of vandalizing Bobby’s car, too.
He would just have to be careful when he left in case his premonitions didn’t warn him about the danger. Check the lines, do circuits of the lot a few times, and if all seemed well, he would drive home. But only then.
Bobby found Randy dozing at the desk in the cluttered office. He jerked his head up when Bobby rapped on the door frame. “I’m glad you came back,” Randy said through a yawn.
Bobby sat down in the chair. “Running away is for sissies.”
“You didn’t seem to think that awhile ago.”
“I changed my mind. I really need this job.”
Randy slid some papers across the top of the desk. “Good. I’ll need you to fill these out to the best of your knowledge. For taxes, you know. I’m sure you’ve been through this rigmarole before.”
Bobby had. As he began to fill in his name, Social Security number, and other information on the forms, he said, “Are you upset with Carly?”
The question seemed to take Randy by surprise. “Why would I be upset with her?”
“She spilled the beans about the whole driving-out-demons thing. Phil seemed mad enough about it.”
At first Randy didn’t say anything, and when Bobby looked up, he saw that a hint of sorrow had entered his eyes.
Bobby laid the pen down even though most of the form remained blank. “What is it?”
Randy leaned back in his chair and diverted his gaze to the windows. No tapping sounded from beyond them. “I know I’m going to sound like a broken record, but try not to let Phil bother you.”
“He doesn’t like me.”
Randy shook his head. “He doesn’t know if he can like you since you just showed up out of the blue. Phil is a guarded kind of guy. He won’t just befriend anyone he meets. He has to get to know someone well enough to determine whether or not he or she can be trusted.”
“He could run a background check on me if he’s worried I’m a crook. I’ve got nothing to hide.”
Randy laughed. “I’m sure you don’t. But don’t feel bad about him. He treated me the same when we first met.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. Though I admit he wasn’t quite as open about his distrust. Many things have changed since then.” He paused. “Many, many things.”
Bobby glanced back down at the incomplete employment forms. He was in no hurry to finish them because as soon as he was done Randy would leave and he’d be alone all over again. “Can I ask you something slightly off topic?”
“It depends.”
Bobby continued, praying that Randy wouldn’t object to what he was about to ask. “Why do you need to be replaced? I don’t mean here at the church. I mean for the other thing. You know.”
Randy sighed. “How deep do you want to get into this?”
“How deep am I now?”
“About three inches.”
“Out of what?”
“A whole lot more inches than that.”
Well that was helpful. “Why do you need to be replaced?” Bobby repeated.
“Do you promise you’ll never tell another living soul anything about what I’m going to tell you?”
“Sure.”
Randy’s hazel-eyed gaze bored into his with such intensity that Bobby wanted to look away but found he could not. “Good,” Randy said. “I trust you to uphold that. I wouldn’t like to be in your place if you broke that promise.”
Bobby felt sweat break out on his forehead. “I won’t break it. If you can’t trust me, you can’t trust anyone.”
“I hope so.” Randy folded his hands together. “It’s necessary for me to find a replacement for lots of reasons, the first and foremost being that Lupe and I aren’t permitted to be married until I pass what we call the mantle of Servitude on to someone else.”
“Servitude?” Bobby had heard them mention the word “servant” at various times, though none of them had elaborated on what that meant.
“Yes. That’s what we call our service to God.”
It all sounded so strange. But it couldn’t be strange. The Bible practically overflowed with stories of ordinary people who spent their lives serving God. Bobby had just never considered the driving out of spirits to be a part of that.
“Go on,” he said.
So Randy did. “Being the Servant is a gift. A special union, you might call it. Those who take on the mantle are granted special abilities that help them cast out spirits, and they have a greater awareness of God’s presence.”
“What do you mean?”
“Stand up, and I’ll demonstrate.”
Bobby rose, uncertain, and Randy pointed at the hallway floor just outside the office door.
“Go stand there,” he said.
Bobby resisted the temptation to ask what Randy was doing. He took up his position and stared into the office.
Randy stood just a few feet inside the doorway. “Okay. How far apart would you say we are?”
Bobby made a quick mental estimation. “Maybe seven feet?”
“Seven feet. Good. Now stay where you are.” Randy closed the door between them but left a one-inch gap between the door and the frame so they could still hear each other. “Now how far apart are we?”
“If you didn’t move, it’s still seven feet.”
“Can you see me?”
“No.”
“But you still know I’m here.”
Understanding slowly dawned on him. “So you’re saying if you’re this Servant person, a door that separates us from God is opened?”
Randy swung the door back open and gestured for Bobby to resume his seat. “Yes. But the door isn’t really there. We just think it is.”
“Okay.” Bobby sat on the edge of the chair while Randy returned to his side of the desk. “That makes sense, I think. What does this have to do with marrying Lupe?”
“I was getting to that. When I marry Lupe, I won’t be able to devote time to my duties as a Servant, which is why someone else needs to take over for me. That’s the way it’s always been. You could say it’s a little bit like the priesthood.”
“But priests aren’t ever allowed to marry.”
“That’s why I said ‘a little bit.’ I may be able to spend time with Lupe now but I can’t give myself fully to her until someone else becomes the Servant.”
Randy wore a wistful smile. “God’s Holy Spirit will no longer flow within me the same way it does now, and I’ll no longer be able to cast out evil spirits in his name, which brings me to the second reason why I need to find someone else to bear the mantle. Do you think it’s easy doing what I do?”
Bobby squirmed a bit in his seat. “I guess not.”
“The physical and emotional tolls are astronomical. Not to mention mental. They say things to you, things that cut deep if you’re not prepared for them. They know every sinful thing you’ve ever done and they hound you about it to distract you from your task. It’s exhausting. I have to work out as often as I can and practice mental control so they can’t ruin me, and even though the Spirit gives me strength, I’m still human. I’m worn out. Some days when I look in the mirror I swear I can see through myself like I’m evaporating.”
It all sounded terrible to Bobby, but at the same time he was intrigued. This was more than he had ever hoped for the man to explain. “How long have you been doing it?”
“Six years. Since I was twenty like you. Most only stick with it for four or five if they aren’t killed first.”
A shiver passed over Bobby. “Why would someone try to kill people like you? Wouldn’t casting out demons be a good thing?”
Randy stretched the collar of his t-shirt down to where Bobby could see the upper part of his chest below his shoulder, where two circular scars stood two inches apart from each other. “I don’t know, why would somebody try to kill me?” he asked, letting his shirt slide back into place. “Because there are people who hate the work we do, as well as the One who chose us. It’s almost funny. You can feed and clothe the poor and offer a helping hand to those in need, and few will bat an eye. But if you suggest that people should repent and turn their lives to Christ, that’s when things get ugly. You’d think they wouldn’t care. But they do. Boy, do they.”
“But if you had died then, you wouldn’t have had someone to replace you. Right?”
Randy’s expression grew solemn once more. “It’s always been advised to choose a replacement soon after being chosen just in case of an early death—I’ve just never come across anyone I feel is suitable for the position. If a Servant dies without having chosen a successor, then it’s thought that evil will reign unchecked until the first male child born after the Servant’s death is located by the Servant’s surviving predecessors and the mantle is passed to him at the age of eighteen. I’m not sure why that is, but it’s what tradition tells us, and I don’t see any reason to doubt it. Are you going to finish filling out your form?”
“Oh.” That task had already slipped from his mind thanks to Randy’s words. Bobby looked back down at the papers and scribbled in the last bits of information they asked for. “Well, good luck finding your replacement. How do you find one, anyway?”
“It’s different for everyone. Phil found me right here at church. I didn’t know him well back then. One day he stopped me when church let out and asked if I wanted to come to lunch with him and his friends who, as it turned out, were Carly’s parents, Graham Willard, an old fart named Frank, and a few others who are part of our circle. Great people. Most of them, anyway. We met again and again and eventually Phil let on to what he did, and I agreed to accept the mantle of Servitude so he could marry his longtime girlfriend, Allison. They have a little girl now. She’s a cute kid.”
“You did this just for them?”
“Not just for them, but for all of those whom I might be able to save from suffering.”
“That sounds noble, I guess.” Bobby scanned the papers to make sure he hadn’t missed anything and handed them back to Randy. “Were you scared?”
“A little. I didn’t know what would happen, but I just trusted God, and well, here I am, six years later. You should trust God, too. I think it will serve you well.” Randy stood and pulled a set of keys out of his pocket. “Here, this is yours.” He tossed it to Bobby, who caught it in his fist. “The big one unlocks all the outer doors, the medium one is for the meeting room and office doors, and the smaller one unlocks the janitor’s closet. Please don’t lose any of them.”
Bobby committed which key was which to memory and slipped them into the pocket of his jeans. “You’re leaving already?” He had hoped to at least get to talk to Randy for awhile longer, in part because being in the large building by himself sounded about as appealing as spending the night in a graveyard.
“If I don’t get some sleep soon, I’m going to be a dead man.” He yawned as if to give credence to his statement. “Oh. I almost forgot.” Randy picked up a white binder lying at the edge of the desk and handed it to Bobby. “You don’t need to look at this whole thing tonight, but be sure you know the basics. There’s also some emergency contact numbers in there in case you ever need them.”
Bobby flipped the binder open. The first page listed the table of contents for a manual outlining his duties and other things he should know now that he was an employee of the church. “Thanks. Is this mine, too?”
“Only for the duration of your employment. Keep it safe, because I’m not sure our secretary would enjoy having to type up a new one.” Randy snapped his fingers. “You know, there’s something else, too. You’ll need to have a background check done, but I’m sure you’re not worried about that.” Randy held out his hand, and Bobby shook it. “Good luck. If you need anything, call my cell phone. Those bags of rice work miracles.”
“That’s good. And thanks.”
Randy gave a halfhearted salute and walked out the door without further ado. His heavy footsteps receded down the hallway before they were cut short by the opening and closing of the wooden double doors.
Bobby heaved a sigh and opened the binder again. He didn’t think it would tell him what to do if evil entities started throwing rocks at him while on the job.
He could only hope that whatever followed him home last night would not return.
BOBBY SET the binder on the desk, made a mental note to take it with him when he went home, and made his way to the janitor’s closet three doors down the hallway. St. Paul’s was laid out differently from the church to which his father and Charlotte took him as a child. Colorful stained glass windows that opened to the outside lined that sanctuary. Here, hallways leading to meeting rooms and assorted offices boxed the sanctuary in on all four sides like it was an enclave.
Or a crypt.
Last night when Randy gave him the grand tour of the place, Bobby saw that the only way natural light could enter the sanctuary was through six clear glass skylights in the peaked ceiling. “If you’re ever going to climb up on the roof and clean the windows,” Randy had said, “make sure it’s bright enough out so you can see what the heck you’re doing. Father Preston won’t like it if he has to scrape what’s left of you off the ground.”
Since washing the windows wasn’t an option tonight, Bobby would start cleaning in the office and work his way clockwise around the building.
It was best to get started.
He unlocked the closet and flicked the light on. Shelves upon shelves of cleaning supplies stared back at him: Windex, Clorox, paper towels, rags. A sad mop leaned against the wall next to a broom missing some of its bristles. If he remembered later, he would buy the church a new one.
He ignored these and reached for a box of garbage bags. Emptying the trash was as good a place to start as any.
While he moved from room to room gathering up overflowing wastebasket liners and stuffing them into a Hefty bag he dragged along behind him, he found himself thinking about Joanna and her yellow summer dress and the way tears had glistened in her eyelashes, and how Trish had just died in her chair without apparent cause far before her time should have come.
Joanna and Trish. Two troubled women who had both needed help and turned to the same person to receive it.
Funny, how Bobby had turned to Randy fo
r help in a way, too. The man did more than Rescue Man could have ever dreamed of doing.
Bobby decided he didn’t want to think about Rescue Man anymore. It was kid stuff. Done. The past. The end.
The next hour saw Bobby dusting shelves, vacuuming carpet, disinfecting doorknobs, and straightening papers that had been left behind on desks. Such dull, tedious work.
He couldn’t complain.
“And I thought it would be creepy working here,” he said out loud as he lugged yet another full garbage bag to the dumpsters outside. “Just shows what I know.”
He went back in and was about to consult the binder again when the flash of headlights—accompanied by the low rumble of an engine—shined through the slats in the office blinds.
He checked the time. Nine o’clock. Who would be here this late in the day? Had Randy forgotten something and come back to get it?
Doubtful. Randy could have just called him.
Bobby switched off the office light and peered through the blinds. Mere yards away from the window sat an idling car of indeterminate make and color.
Seconds ticked by.
The headlights winked out and the engine fell silent. Bobby could hear his pulse in his ears. It was the person who’d vandalized Randy’s brakes. He knew it. He just knew it.
The car’s interior light came on. A man he didn’t recognize stepped out into the night and set off toward the church entrance.
Which Bobby had left unlocked.
Fear made him hold his breath. He waited for the sound of the doors opening but heard nothing other than the occasional pop and creak of the building settling down for the night.
Another minute passed. Bobby looked through the slats again and was surprised to see that the man had returned to his vehicle. The dome light glowed again. The man seemed to be checking his watch.
So he was meeting someone here and they were late. Bobby still didn’t think he could trust the man. Phil Mason must have been rubbing off on him.