3 Gates of the Dead (The 3 Gates of the Dead Series)

by Ryan, Jonathan

I sighed. “It’s like this. Half of the responses I get are from the unbelievably-holy Christian girl who was home-schooled, wants to marry a pastor and spend her life entertaining the ladies of the church. The other half comes from girls who, to put it nicely, wish to deflower a pastor. The joke is I’ve already been deflowered. Too bad for them.”

  Brian laughed. “Revenge on God by screwing, eh? Or an unhealthy church upbringing.”

  “I guess. Both types creep me out.”

  “Come on, Aidan, I’m sure something will work out. There’s no need to give up your faith in God over it. I have a book that might help.”

  I busted up laughing. “Dude, that’s such an evangelical response. Gloss over it and offer them a book. Besides, I’ve probably already read it.”

  “Well, have you talked to Mike?”

  I closed my eyes. I had thought about it many times, but how do you tell your boss you may no longer believe the main values of the company?

  Bishop peered up at me and whined. His boxer-mutt face pained with the look of a full bladder.

  “Okay, buddy, I know, walk time.”

  “Hey, Bri, I gotta run out into the snow and cold. Bishop is whining. Poor neglected dog, product of a broken home. Then I need to get to bed. Long day tomorrow with the meeting, can’t wait for that…”

  Brian chuckled. “Later, Aidan. You can call me anytime, you know. You also know the Buckeyes have no business being in the national championship game, right?”

  “I know, man, thanks. And I think the cheese grits are clogging your brain. You should get that checked out.”

  I grabbed Bishop, and we went out the door. I felt sorry for my poor dog. An assistant pastor was one of those creatures who got dumped on in hopes he would be able to climb the ladder by learning the ropes in a secondary job. So, we did everything we were asked to, hoping it would earn us a fantastic reference for a head pastor job in three to five years. As a consequence, I worked long hours, and Bishop spent most of his time in his crate. I’d been thinking of giving him to my brother and his kids, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it, even though he was a reminder of the worst breakup of my life.

  It’s the same old story. Guy and girl are dating and buy a dog together thinking it’s the start of something permanent. Then, said girl finds someone who is holier than said guy (another pastor, evidently). Suddenly, said girl simpers, “God doesn’t want us to be together anymore.” The Christian equivalent of the “it’s not you, it’s me” line. It’s astounding how Christians always blame God for the selfish crap they want to do.

  I thought Amanda was going to be different. She wasn’t. She broke my heart like everything else in my life, including God. I wondered if I had always equated God and girls. Now they were both a big disappointment. I felt like I’d been cast adrift on Lake Erie in a canoe without a paddle.

  With that happy thought, I walked Bishop, and then we both crawled into bed. As I drifted off, my home phone rang.

  “Hello,” I mumbled.

  “Aidan?” said a frantic woman’s voice.

  I sat up, eyes wide. “Edna? Are you okay?”

  “No. I’m in the emergency room with Olan. He’s been having chest pains for the past two hours. Will you come?”

  I heard Olan say something inaudible in the background.

  “I’m not having him come for you, you old coot!” Edna shouted. “He’s coming to help me!”

  “Edna? Are you still there? Do you need anything?”

  “I don’t know, Aidan. I can’t think straight.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  Chapter Two

  “Sir? Your change.” The fast-food window jockey shook me out of my stupor as he handed me my coffee. I couldn’t count the late night coffee runs I’d made since I became a minister. No phone call after nine o’clock was ever positive when you were a pastor. You either ended up in a hospital for an emergency surgery or in the house of a screaming couple with kids crying because mommy and daddy took a swing at each other.

  As I sipped the coffee, I realized that despite my crisis of faith, comforting people at their worst made the job worth it. I drove through the abandoned streets of Columbus thinking that no matter how cynical I got, one phone call from people in distress helped to distract me from all my doubts.

  I frowned into the rear view mirror as I mourned for the person I had been, the idealistic young minister who left seminary on fire, convinced I would set the church ablaze with the holiness of God. My enthusiasm convinced several churches to call me. I had four job offers, but I took the one at Knox because of Mike Johns, the head pastor. He put on the full-court press to bring me to Columbus and then took me under his wing.

  While I hadn’t regretted working with Mike, the church became a colossal mess, especially among the leadership. The weekly battles over stupid stuff drained my enthusiasm for the job and then threatened to suck out my faith. The fire that once burned in me was nothing but a barely-lit ember now.

  I pulled up to the hospital and parked in the clergy space. The bright orange of the emergency sign glowed out into the night as I walked through the doors.

  Most ministers hated doing hospital visitations, but I enjoyed it until about a year ago when I had to identify my parents’ bodies after the fire. It took what little strength I had to walk through those automatic sliding doors, but tonight I had extra motivation. Olan and Edna Wilkes adopted me my first day at the church. Their own kids — two in the military and one studying at Oxford — rarely made it home, so I often spent time at their farm working for them or committing the sin of gluttony with Edna’s cooking.

  I fought the lump in my throat as I walked up to the nurse at the emergency station. She peered up at me, and her eyes met mine. She smiled as she reached up and brushed one of her custard-colored curls back.

  “May I help you?”

  I smiled as I looked at her name tag. “I hope so, Sharon. I’m looking for one of my parishioners, Olan Wilkes. He was brought in with chest pains.”

  “Yes, uh, Pastor…?”

  “Call me Aidan.”

  “Okay, Aidan.” She smiled as she looked up Olan on the computer.

  “Yes, here he is. Room three.”

  “Thanks.” I started toward the metal folding doors.

  “Uh, Pas … Aidan?” Sharon called out. “Do you have your chaplain identification? It says that Olan is only allowed one visitor at a time for the moment, but if you have your badge, you can get right in to see him.”

  My chaplain badge. You didn’t have to have it to visit your flock in the hospital, but it could get you in places not usually allowed to normal visitors. I patted down my pockets. “Ah, Sharon, I don’t. I left it at my house in the rush to get here.”

  She frowned as she twirled her hair. “I’m sorry, Aidan, I can’t let you in if you don’t have it.”

  I smiled and leaned over the desk. “Please? You can look me up later, but they need their pastor right now. Olan and Edna are friends of mine. Edna is genuinely scared.”

  She tilted her head, glancing around. “Go on in,” she whispered.

  I touched her hand. “Thanks, Sharon. You’re incredible.”

  I went in and found Olan’s room just a few doors down. He lay on his bed, his full head of white hair combed to the right. If he’d had on a suit and a tie, he would look like the CEO of a Fortune 500 company rather than a dairy farmer, his chosen second love.

  “Aidan, my boy, come in,” Olan boomed. He waved me in with an IV-injected arm. “Sorry about all the fuss.”

  “Hey, Olan, are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. Well, my chest hurts, and Edna thinks it’s a heart attack.”

  “What does the doctor think?”

  “Eh, he’s not saying, but I can tell he’s not too concerned. My heart rate is normal, and my blood pressure is acceptable. He still wants to be cautious though, so he’s running some tests. Hope to have the results soon, which in hospital language means in the next few days.�
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  I grinned. “No doubt. Where’s Edna? I brought some coffee for her.”

  “Where’s mine?” Olan scowled.

  “Uh, you might be having a heart attack, Olan. Don’t think the doctor would approve.”

  “Bah!” He waved his hand. “I think it’s just gas from eatin’ out at Jericho’s this evenin’.”

  “That would do it.”

  Olan’s face fell as he reached out his hand. “Thanks for coming, Aidan. It means a lot.”

  I gripped his hand. “No worries, Olan. Truthfully, I just came because I love sitting in emergency room chairs and helping Edna with her husband.”

  He laughed. “Boy, you’re all right! I love it. You aren’t bein’ all serious with me. Have you no respect for my possible death?”

  “If you die, I’ll apologize to you in heaven.”

  Olan laughed again as Edna walked in the room.

  She grabbed me in a fierce hug. “Oh, Aidan, I’m so glad you’re here!”

  Edna was a small, skinny woman, but she gripped me with the strength gained from having raised three boys and running a farm. Her gray hair hung down to her shoulders in wispy curls and framed her Jane Fonda face.

  “Whoa, Edna, let the boy breathe,” Olan said.

  I handed her the red and white cup of coffee.

  “Oh, just what I need. You always remember.”

  We sat in silence for a bit before the doctor, a guy who looked about my age, came into the room.

  “Mr. Wilkes, your blood test came back negative. No sign of a heart attack and your EKG looks normal. But I want to keep you a few more hours to run a couple of more tests. I think it’s most likely acid reflux, but I want to rule out everything else. I’m pretty sure my medical advice will be to stay away from the sausages.”

  “No problem, doc. Charge it to the insurance company.”

  The doctor smiled. “The nurse will be here in just a few minutes to take you for some chest x-rays, and I’ll be back after I look at them. If everything is good, I’ll give you a Zantac and send you on your way. How’s your pain on a scale of one to ten?”

  “About a four.”

  “Good, it’s dropped since you came in then. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Edna heaved a giant sigh of relief and laid her head on my shoulder.

  “Well, Olan,” I said. “Maybe you’ll reconsider eating so much for dinner, like the doctor said. God wants us to take care of our bodies, you know.”

  Olan rolled his eyes. “You know you are getting old when the people giving you dietary and spiritual advice look like they just started shaving.”

  “Come on, I have a day’s growth here. I’m starting to look like Bigfoot.”

  Olan smiled as he put one hand behind his head.

  “You can go home, Aidan,” Edna said as she hugged her husband. “There’s no point in you stayin’.”

  “Nah, I walked Bishop before you called. He’ll be good until morning. I’ll stick around for a bit.”

  Despite the doctor’s words, no one came in for an hour. Olan and Edna had their heads back, and eyes closed. They snored loudly enough to shatter glass. I decided it would be an opportune time to get something to eat.

  Sharon gave me directions to the nearest vending machine. After a few turns, I found myself in a deserted hallway. The fluorescent lights reflected off the lime-colored floor, giving the hall an eerie greenish look. As I approached the vending machine, I realized it had become unearthly quiet. No clanking of metal. No talking medical personnel. No pagers going off. Almost as if I had entered some in-between place where the living, the dead, and the almost-dead occupied the same space.

  Amazing the thoughts a tired brain will put into your head, I considered as I shook off the cobwebs.

  I turned my thoughts back to my conversation with Brian earlier that night. Despite what I told him about ordinary people doubting God or not believing in His existence, I couldn’t shake my main problem: my job security depended entirely on my faith. I guess you could define it as a skill, but it wasn’t like being able to type fast or being a great public speaker. You could pick those up easily through training or experience. Restored belief in God was a little harder to recover, and I didn’t want to seem like a hypocrite. I figured I just had to work through it, and I would start by talking with Mike in the morning.

  I sighed. I knew I’d get no sleep tonight, but I guessed I could nap in my office in the morning.

  The vending machine clinked as I put the change into the slot. I had just entered the number “33” when a female voice whispered into my ear.

  “Aidan…”

  At first, I thought Sharon had followed me, and I turned to smile at her.

  “Hey, did you…” No one stood by me. No one was in the hallway.

  “Hello, is there anyone there?” A cold brush of air sent goose bumps up my skin, and I raised my voice. “Is someone playing a joke?”

  I walked down the hall, looking at the closed doors. I tried each one of the handles, but they didn’t budge. I shrugged and went back to the vending machine.

  “Aidan, they want to wake him…” the voice whispered.

  I whirled around and saw the time on the wall clock: 3:30 A.M.

  Someone stood just out of my sight as if wanting to be found, like a game of hide-and-seek. Every nerve in my body kicked into high alert as I felt the presence of a person standing right next to me.

  “I know you’re here!” I shouted. “Come on out!”

  No answer.

  “Nurse Sharon, is that you?”

  There was still no answer except for the low buzz of the vending machine. I rubbed my head and wondered if I should start taking my medication again. I had no desire to go back to popping the “happy pills” as Edna called them. The drugs messed up my system through sweats, tremors, and nervousness. I had no wish to take them again, no matter what hallucinations I might see.

  I bought my Reese’s peanut butter cups and walked back to Olan’s room. Thankfully, I didn’t hear any more voices as I reached the door. Edna’s glassy-eyed gaze was fixed on a Cheers rerun. Olan must have been taken to have X-rays because his bed was empty.

  “Aidan, are you okay?”

  “Yeah, fine, Edna. Why do you ask?”

  “You just had a funny look on your face.”

  “Oh right, sorry, I thought I heard someone calling my name, but it must have been my imagination. My tired body and low blood sugar are messing with my senses.”

  Edna gave me a raised eyebrow but didn’t say anything.

  They brought Olan in about half-hour later, and the doctor pronounced him fit to leave. After Edna signed the paperwork, I wheeled Olan outside.

  “Now, you’ll come over for pancakes this mornin’, right?” Olan asked.

  I yawned. “Maybe. Depends on what I have at the church. Besides, don’t you all need your rest?”

  “Rest? I don’t think Olan knows what that word means,” Edna said.

  “I’ll rest when Jesus comes, honey.” Olan patted her hand.

  Edna scowled. “You don’t take care of yourself, and you’re gonna rest long before that.”

  Olan stood up and grabbed her hand. “Come on, woman, let’s go home and sleep.”

  I smiled as they made their way to their car, hand in hand.

  Chapter Three

  As I drove to work, my thoughts scattered around like the snowflakes outside my car. Traffic locked into a nonmoving body of steel as Ohio forgot how to drive in the snow. My road rage usually flared in these situations, but I barely noticed I had not made any progress in the last twenty minutes. I knew I needed to talk to someone else about my faith problem.

  But who could I tell? One option was to hide it from everyone at the church. I was pretty decent at hiding my true feelings, a skill that had served me well in ministry. This was especially true in situations when someone insisted that contemporary Christian music was better than secular music. Although, when someone started talking
about Kirk Cameron being one of the smartest apologists out there, I had to walk away. No one had that much control.

  As I gripped the steering wheel, I doubted I could cover up something this momentous. It would get out eventually, either through my looks or side comments during Sunday school lessons. Pastors were sort of like the Lindsey Lohans of the church world. Everything we did, from blowing our noses, to what beverage we drank, was discussed and analyzed. Opinions were formed about you on every subject. People would destroy you even as they loved you.

  I arrived at the church and parked. The church — a large warehouse-looking building — loomed in front of me. When I first came to Knox, I took one look at the building and almost got back in my car. Everything had been new: the carpets, the smells, and the coffee bar. The sanctuary looked like a modern college theater. For someone who grew up going to an old gray stone church in downtown Indianapolis, it had been a shock to the system. I loved the smell of aged wood, candle wax, and the musty air of the Sunday School Room. Knox had none of those things, but I came anyway.

  This building was supposed to be the height of suburban beauty, but it looked like what would happen if a warehouse and an office building produced offspring from a booze-induced hook up. I could never express that to the people of Knox Presbyterian Church, however, who thought the building was a beautiful example of God’s grace to the congregation.

  I turned off the engine of my 2000 Dodge, and it shuddered to a stop. My poor car needed a tune-up, but I hadn’t had the time. It also needed to be cleaned. Trash from Tim Horton’s and Chipotle burrito wrappers littered the floorboard. More examples of my terrible diet of the past six months.

  After the conversation with Brian, I knew I had to talk to Mike. Actually, the more I thought about it, the better I felt. Mike had always been there for me. He taught me, mentored me, and had my back when I messed up. There had been the time I pissed off our children’s ministry coordinator by not returning one of her emails on some nursery policy. After she spent two hours screaming at me, Mike smoothed it all out and helped me avoid that sort of tongue-lashing in the future. His help seemed like a simple thing, but to me, it wasn’t. I had heard horror stories from seminary classmates about how their head pastors hung them out to dry. From then on, I latched onto Mike, drank in his every word and followed nearly all of his advice. I knew if there was one person who could help me figure all this out, it was him. Maybe he would suggest I take some study leave and just get away to the mountains to clear my head.