Am I being suckered and hoodwinked? All for some false prophet who likes to quote Tozer and Radiohead?
He wonders if he’s sipped the Kool-Aid simply because of his anger and hatred toward his father. What if all this comes back to haunt Will? What if Hutchence, aka the Reckoner, turns out to be just another wacko wanting to get back at the head of Acatour?
Lord, help me, please. Help me now.
2.
If Will didn’t know Hutchence, he might have assumed Hutchence was the head of a tech company in the Incen Tower, based on his look and demeanor. He wore trim khaki trousers and a tucked-in, button-down shirt underneath a stylish overcoat. His brown boots made the outfit. His handsome, square mug was now evident with the unruly beard gone. Will waited for him at a stone bridge crossing the Fox River. Bike trails wove through the trees in a nearby park.
“Your message sounded rather angry,” Hutchence said when he reached Will.
All Will could do was curse at the man.
“Wow. Having a bad morning with Flip?”
The sun hid behind thick clouds, trying to decide between snow and icy rain. Right now a slight mix of both could barely be seen whipping around them in the strong winds of midday.
“I know who you are, Reckoner,” Will said. “I know all the things you’ve done.”
Hutchence didn’t look even slightly surprised.
“I know you’re him—Reckoner and Acrobat and probably several other ridiculous names.”
“Ridiculous? I rather liked them. I thought they were clever. Didn’t you?”
“What are you doing? Are you crazy? Seriously. I mean that in all sincerity.”
“I assumed you knew this much earlier, Will. And, no, I’m not crazy, not in the least, but as I told you already, many people will think I am. They thought Noah was crazy too, until people began to drown next to the big boat he’d built. Isaiah lived naked for a while. Did you know that? They also thought Jesus was crazy, not to mention sacrilegious. I’m not daring to compare myself with Jesus, not even Noah, but I’m telling you—”
“So why didn’t you tell me, then?”
“Because I thought you might get a little hostile. I thought you might worry if I wanted to extort money from your father or something.”
Will shook his head and began to walk down the paved bike trail to the wooded area. It was cold, and he was wearing only a sweater, having forgotten his coat. The wind cut through him, but there was enough fire inside him to make him forget about being numb.
“All these things you’ve done—graffiti and destruction of property—”
“I was getting people’s attention. Nobody was harmed. No one. But many, many will be harmed when this chapter is done. And, Will, I’m afraid it is indeed just a chapter. I don’t know how the story will play out, but I do know the day of reckoning for Chicago and for Acatour and for your father is fast approaching.”
“And you want me to contact my father so his people can see that I’ve been hanging out with the very guy vandalizing the city? Making veiled threats against my father’s company?”
“Do you still doubt the things your father and his company are doing?” Hutchence asked.
“No, but I don’t like being lied to.”
“I never lied to you, Will. I didn’t tell you the obvious. Sometimes we don’t want to hear the truth, and other times we can’t discern it.”
“I’ve done nothing wrong here,” Will said, looking around the park to see if anybody was nearby.
“We’re not being watched,” Hutchence said with confidence. “And nobody ever said you’ve done anything wrong.”
Will couldn’t stop moving, pacing and shaking his head. “You know, for a while I took all the ‘Christian’ material out of my store. Then I began to ask what books fall under that definition. Books by Christian artists? Only those that are nonfiction? Those that specifically deliver the gospel? I saw dozens of books I couldn’t decide on. And the whole thing made me sick. Ultimately I couldn’t make up my mind. But I was scared. And I’m still scared.”
“Angry too,” Hutchence said.
“Yeah. Pretty much.”
Hutchence rubbed his bare hands together as the wind cut through them. “I want to see that heavy weight of worry taken off you, Will. I can’t do it, and you can’t do it by yourself. You need God to do that, but first you gotta believe He can do it.”
“Worry is what happens when you become estranged from your father who happens to be one of the world’s most powerful men.”
“Remember David asking how a pagan Philistine could be allowed to defy the armies of the living God?”
“Oh, come on. Don’t give me a David and Goliath sermon.” The wind blew his hair and made Will shiver. “You know, after I committed my life to Christ, I thought I would do something really big one day, the way all college students think. Dream big and believe you can and all those things. For a while I thought maybe I could be a writer but found out I don’t have the gift. And when I didn’t become something big, I realized that I could’ve done so much more with my life. I’ve had this lukewarm sort of life. First I thought of it in terms of my career, but I’ve never really done anything with my faith either. Selling a few Christian books and helping Pastor Brian publish one were good things, but they weren’t particularly remarkable.”
“Want to know what God wants from you?” Hutchence asked. “God doesn’t want you to write the next great American novel or to cure cancer. What He wants is for you to love Him and to make Him the main priority of your life. To make Him known. Look, I understand the whole thing about regrets. I get that. But you can’t let your past define your future, especially since we have work to do.”
“Every time you say that…Every time you use the word we…”
“I can’t force you to do anything, Will. It’s up to you if you choose to be a part of this. But, please, for the sake of all those believers and nonbelievers being victimized by Acatour, you need to do what’s right. And you have to decide today.”
Will nodded and looked up to the sky.
“I will contact you tomorrow to hear your decision,” Hutchence said.
With that, the man walked away. The Reckoner slipping away, the Acrobat going back to his work, whatever work he was doing.
For Will, there was an excitement in the things Hutchence was doing, yet there was also a terror. Knowing which category they ultimately fell into was the big question.
A question he needed to answer in twenty-four hours.
3.
The anger swelled, dominating the fear within him. The two emotions were similar to his fraternal twins taking turns acting out in disobedience.
Knowing he needed to get it out of his system somehow, he powered on his Envisage Bike, a Christmas gift from Amy half a decade ago. Will couldn’t remember the last time he had used it. Two or three years ago? The workout bicycle transformed the augmented reality experience by interfacing with one’s SYNAPSYS, meaning you could seamlessly program a ride through Nepal and have your wife and children show up at your side if you wanted to. He pedaled as sweat covered him, telling him how out of shape he was. His noise-canceling headphones weren’t necessary since everybody was out of the house, but he still felt that he couldn’t turn up the volume as loud as he wanted to.
Round and round and round the pedals went as he switched the scenery from the Himalayas to the city streets of Paris. After getting bored with that, Will decided to bike somewhere in the Sahara desert. Once again the sweeping beauty was straight out of some grand, epic film like Lawrence of Arabia, the endless sand all around him in a spectacular 360-degree view. Yet he wanted—he needed—something more.
“Random film!” Will shouted out between heavy breaths.
This had been a fun feature when he first bought it, and it reminded him that he needed to have Shaye tr
y this out. Riders could use this setting and find themselves in any sort of film they wanted. All the films Will had called out could be used, even some obscure indie films or Russian flicks. Calling out the random setting meant his SYNAPSYS would pick it for him, the nature of the artificial intelligence and the algorithms setting the course for him.
Like every day for every person in every life.
All around him were rolling hills, glorious in summertime, with the sky blue above him and a packed gravel road underneath. It appeared that he might be somewhere in Europe. He heard the roar of an engine and saw a uniformed officer of some sort riding a vintage motorcycle. He began pedaling to follow as an orchestra played the soundtrack.
“You’re inside The Great Escape, from 1963, starring Steve McQueen,” Tolkien told him.
Will smiled, his anger easing a bit. He remembered the movie and knew that McQueen’s character was wearing a Nazi uniform while finally making his big escape on a Triumph TR6 Trophy.
Ah, the glories of consolidated media. Everything incorporated into one big melting pot. With one license to rule them all, as the joke went. Nothing was off limits, nothing sacred. And while many opposed it initially, fewer did with each passing year, knowing how nice it felt not only to be the hero of your journey but also to insert yourself into any sort of journey you wanted. Not only in this biking experience but in everything else in this world.
“Change the tune,” Will said, wanting to dispense with the classical music.
As he pedaled through the German countryside, African chants began around him. He wondered if Tolkien was trying to be funny as the bleak Brazilian drum played. But when the voice sang, Will recognized Peter Gabriel. The famous protest song “Biko” began to build, slowly and steadily like the drums.
Riding through a small, picturesque German town, Will could see McQueen being summoned by one of the many Nazis guarding the main road. The wild thing with this experience was that he was able to see the scene perfectly from where he was standing instead of seeing it play on a flat screen in front of him. Will waited for a moment before McQueen kicked the soldier and tore off once again down the road.
Pedaling harder, down a hill and over a little bridge leading to open fields, Will kept moving, knowing it was impossible to keep up with a motorcycle but having the system help him so he never fell too far behind. The Nazis pursued them in the background, firing shots that could be heard.
“I can only dream in red,” Peter Gabriel sang. It felt like his voice drifted off into the Alps in the background.
Will moved past a barn and down more gravel roads that crisscrossed, with more Nazis showing up. McQueen remained defiant as he continued to weave his motorcycle around, and Will pumped the pedals to keep up in his imagination.
When they finally got cornered, with McQueen’s character jumping over barbed wire, Will had an option to follow. He stopped the bike, sucking air and drenched, just as the singer sang, “And the eyes of the world are watching now.”
Does Tolkien know everything that is happening? Is this another message from him or from Hutchence?
Maybe God was talking through his SYNAPSYS.
He stood up and began pedaling again with a fury, swooping down to the hill just above the barbed-wire fence. Soon he found himself soaring in the air, and he paused, waiting to see where he landed.
4.
“I’ve left a message for my father to call me this morning,” Will told Amy on the Saturday after his conversation with Hutchence by the bridge.
“Are you serious? Why?”
So far Will hadn’t told her anything about Hutchence and what was happening. He knew he should have, and he had planned to tell her, but so far he hadn’t found the right moment. Even now he wasn’t going to share everything with her. He couldn’t, because he was still trying to decide how to handle things with Jackson Heyford.
“Is it to talk with him about financial issues? Because you know you can talk to my parents—”
“No,” Will interrupted. “It has nothing to do with that.”
“Then why? After all this time?”
“I know he’s the one behind the store closing. I know he’s the one who ultimately got it shut down.”
“How do you know this?”
After everything Hutchence had shown him about Acatour, it was a foregone conclusion that his father had managed to do this, destroying one of Will’s lifetime dreams probably with a simple click of his fingers. He had suspected it, of course, but now he wanted to know the truth.
“I’m going to get him to tell me in person,” Will said.
“Why? Do you think he would even see you?”
Will knew how to get his father’s attention. “Yeah. He’ll see me. Or at least someone is going to contact me.”
“Will, I wouldn’t go there if I were you. What are you trying to prove?”
“I want to know the truth. And if it’s true, I want him to hear what I think.”
He had already told Hutchence this morning that he had contacted his father through a personal number to his SYNAPSYS. The number still worked, though he didn’t hear his father’s voice in the message. It just buzzed and expected him to talk.
The girls could suddenly be heard arguing downstairs in the playroom.
“I’ll go,” Amy said, starting toward the doorway that led to the basement. But then she stopped. “I spoke to my parents yesterday, and the offer is still there.”
Will winced and shook his head. “Tell me you’re teasing.”
“Do I ever tease?”
She had a good point. “What’d you say to them?” he asked.
“I mentioned that you had a business trip to Grand Rapids, so this piqued their curiosity. You know my mom.”
“Yeah, and I know your dad too.”
He couldn’t count the arguments they’d had over the in-laws. How her father expected more from him, making his case as soon as he and Amy started dating. Dick Van de Berg was smart enough to know his daughter, to know Will might be the one for Amy. To know she was rebellious enough to want someone unconventional, someone not like her controlling, alpha-male father. And indeed, Will had been that one. Mr. and Mrs. Van de Berg’s disappointment only deepened when Will opened the bookstore, and it soon turned into dismay after Will and Amy started struggling financially.
“I told them my boss said I could work for their team in GR,” Amy said.
“Were you going to tell me about that? Or maybe just move the girls in the middle of the night?”
“I’m telling you now. That doesn’t mean it’s going to happen. I know you don’t want me to bring this up again, but you could just talk to Dad.”
“No, I can’t, and don’t bring it up again,” he told her. The anger began to clench its teeth and curl its fingers into a fist. I can’t believe she’s even going there.
Yes, there was that. Taking a job at Waste, Inc. The place Dick Van de Berg had worked all his life and made all his millions from. He wasn’t insanely rich by any means, but compared to Will, he was the Bank of America.
Amy had reached the foot of the carpeted stairs descending to the playroom when Will called out her name. “Thanks for trying,” he told her as she looked back at him, obviously disappointed.
“I just want to help.”
“I know.” He sighed, shaking his head, then rubbing his eyes for a moment. “There are worse things than my having to work for your father at Waste, Inc.”
“Really?” she asked with a chuckle. “Like what?”
“One would be working for my father. That would be worse than going to jail.”
“Who knows? Maybe your dad will make you an offer you can’t refuse.”
Amy disappeared downstairs, leaving Will with a bad feeling. She had no idea how right on her joke happened to be.
5.
&
nbsp; The mix of ice and snow that came late on Saturday night right before the several inches of powder this morning had transformed their backyard into a glistening white replica of the fantastical world of Narnia. The tiny trees they had planted after first moving in—or, more accurately, that Amy had picked out and planted—had grown in fifteen years, with the river birch trees sprawling to twenty or thirty feet. The arborvitae were close to twenty feet as well, blocking out the traffic on the streets that lined their corner property. The limbs of the trees and edges of the shrubs were coated with thick snow, but the sky had cleared of clouds.
Will had shoveled a little path on their patio so Flip could do his business. The ten-yard clearing made him think of his bookstore in a weird, sad way. Flip didn’t seem to understand what the path was about, hopping into the snow and then looking back at him as he got stuck in the packed powder that came up to his nose.
Will put on his boots and coat, then went went outside and picked up Flip. “You’re a pain, you know that?” he said, holding the wet mutt and then seeing something bright near the river birch in the corner of their yard. Underneath the tree, someone appeared to be sitting on the bench. Will couldn’t tell for sure, however, because he seemed to be looking into a powerful light, as if the bench had a mirror reflecting the sunlight.
Then the figure stood up, but Will didn’t recognize him. At first he thought it might be Hutchence, but the closer the man got, the bigger he appeared. His black ski jacket looked brand-new and expensive, just like his boots and sunglasses, and his hair was slicked back in a modern haircut. He walked as if he owned the property. As Will watched him approach, he felt scared. And small. He suddenly had an urge to drop Flip and take off running the other direction. But he couldn’t. He stood in place and felt his legs shaking.
“Good morning, Will.”
He didn’t have to ask who the man was and why he was here. As Will held Flip in a way that seemed to protect him, the stranger scanned the yard and then stared at him.
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