by Tony Martin
Joshua moved to pull a chair close by Gretchen’s desk, but she said, “Let’s go back in your office.”
Rising, Gretchen and Joshua went into the pastor’s study. Joshua was about to ask Gretchen what was wrong, but she spoke first.
“Joshua, I saw Franklin in my bedroom last night,” she said, face pinched and ashen.
“Franklin – your husband? You saw him?”
“I did,” she said, dropping her head. “I was not dreaming – it was no dream. He was there, in my room. I could smell his aftershave. I cried out, and he vanished.”
Joshua said nothing. His mind was in chaos.
“Well?” asked Gretchen. “What do you make of that? Am I losing my mind?”
Again, Joshua struggled to speak. “Gretchen, what I’m about to tell you must be held in absolute confidence. I’ve never felt you’d talk outside this office about personal matters. But I’m deadly serious – you can’t breathe this to another living soul. You do understand, don’t you?”
“I do.”
For the next half-hour, Joshua told Gretchen everything, from his initial contact with Meredith Dubose up until the events of the night and early morning before. “And,” he concluded, “it sounds as if what you experienced happened about the same time that things were at their peak at the Dubose mansion.”
“This is unbelievable,” said Gretchen, her eyes wide.
“It is, and I wouldn’t believe it if I’d heard it from someone else. But there were eight of us involved, and we all know what we experienced.”
“So,” said Gretchen, with a shiver, “what does all that have to do with me?”
“I’m not sure,” said Joshua. “But I will tell you that my whole belief system – about what is real and what seems to be real – has been turned on its head. I’ve always given mental assent to the supernatural, to how things exist in the spirit world … but I never dreamed I’d experience anything like this firsthand.”
“Why is this happening?” asked Gretchen. “Why now?”
“That,” said Joshua, “is what I need to find out.”
Joshua prayed with Gretchen and asked her to take her place at her desk. “I am not to be disturbed for anything any less than the Second Coming,” he told her, and meant it. He closed his office door, put his phone on Do Not Disturb, and opened his Bible.
He spent the next several minutes finding comfort in Psalms. “You will not fear the terror of night,” Joshua read aloud softly, “nor the arrow that flies by day, nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness, nor the plague that destroys at midday.” He tried to pray, but found his thoughts unfocused and random.
After a few more minutes, Joshua called Gretchen. “I’m coming up for air,” he said.
“Good,” said Gretchen, “because you’ve already got four calls to return. And Al wants to talk to you.”
Bud Michaels … Brian Rowell …. Shane Turner … John Archer. What was all this about?
Joshua began with Bud. Bud told him of the sighting outside his window. Joshua felt his heart drop.
“I’d chalk this up to pure hallucination,” said Bud, “but I need to tell you something else. I got a call from Joel and Michelle Battaglia. Their tale is even worse.” Bud recounted the Battaglia’s story of the little white dog. “But that’s not the worst of it,” Bud said.
“What’s worse?” Joshua said.
“The Battaglias are fit to be tied with you,” said Bud. Joshua started to speak. “Wait – let me finish. Apparently Mark Tracy told Peter that you and the McRaes and the Tracys were involved in a ghost hunt at the Dubose mansion, and were even using Al’s cousin as some sort of medium.”
“Why are the Battaglias mad at me?” asked Joshua. His heart pounded.
“They think that you’ve gone off the deep end, and are involving people in some sort of occultic activity, and what happened to them last night is due to your meddling in the supernatural.”
Blindsided, Joshua could only say, “My Lord.”
“Joshua, you’re too good of a friend for me to be anything less than straight up with you,” Bud said. “So I’m asking you – is this true?”
Joshua closed his eyes, a headache rapidly building in his left temple. “It is true, at least partially. It’s a long, complicated story.”
“I think I’m going to need to hear it, sooner rather than later,” said Bud. “I may need to do some damage control. If this gets spread much further, well, Josh, it’s going to be a mess for all of us.”
“I understand,” said Joshua. A nightmare, he thought.
“I’ll plan on spending some time with you after prayer meeting tonight, and then we’ll decide what we need to do next,” said Bud. “Joshua, I’ll support you publicly until you give me some reason not to. Understand?”
“I do,” said Joshua. “Do I need to call the Battaglias?”
“Not yet,” said Bud. “I’ve encouraged them to call you directly – I don’t need to be a middleman. But you know as well as I do that they probably won’t.”
“You’re right, of course,” said Joshua. “I’ll talk to you tonight, OK?”
“Fine. Goodbye.”
Joshua dropped the phone into its cradle. He buried his face in his hands. “God, God,” he said. “What next?”
After composing himself, Joshua returned the rest of his calls. Each one teetered on the edge of fantasy … the faraway sound of a man’s laughter; a glowing blue globe that disappeared upon approach; and, in John Archer’s words, “I found myself in a staring contest with something huddled in one corner of our bedroom. I never saw anything, but the sense of an invisible presence was unmistakable, and I knew I couldn’t let my guard down. It was pure evil.”
Joshua prayed with each person over the phone. He didn’t know what else to do. What, he thought, has been unleashed here? What is happening in my church?
He got up, stretched, and got a cup of coffee. “Gretchen,” he said, “for what it’s worth, you aren’t the only one to have had a terrible fright last night. Something unholy is happening here.”
Gretchen nodded. “You don’t have to give me details, Preacher,” she said. “I know we’re in dark days.”
“Dark days,” said Joshua, then smiled grimly. “But it’s always darkest before the dawn, they say.”
“That they do.”
Joshua went to Al’s office, to find Al sitting stupefied at his desk.
“Under normal circumstances, I’d have to laugh at you,” Joshua said.
“Who said these were normal circumstances?” asked Al. “It keeps getting curiouser and curiouser. Let me tell you what we came home to.” Al briefly told Joshua about Katie’s experiences.
“Man alive, Al, what’s happening here?” asked Joshua. “I’ve heard stories like Katie’s all morning – from Gretchen, from Bud, from all over.” He told Al what Bud said about his conversation with the Battaglias. “This could be a problem.”
“Unfortunately, Joel and Michelle can be a problem,” said Al. “I don’t think they carry as much clout in the church as they think they do, though. I’ll try to diffuse anything that comes my way, but frankly, Josh, I’m just about used up. I don’t know how much more I can offer.”
“What kind of state is Precious in?
“Precious was barely moving when I left this morning,” said Al. “I think he’s blown away by what he’s experienced. I think he’s afraid – afraid not only for Meredith and all of us who’re involved, but afraid because his cherished belief system has taken a real hit.”
“I’d say that’s true of all of us,” said Joshua.
“Yeah, but his goes deeper than that,” said Al. “I know you and he have talked about his theology, as it were, of ghosts and hauntings. But for the first time, I think Precious is experiencing something demonic – experiencing it up close and personal, and it’s scaring him. Precious wouldn’t ask you to call Thomas Peterson if he felt that he could manage this situation with all his gadgets and gizmos.”
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“When you talk to Precious again,” said Joshua, “tell him that Jimmy and I will help him get all his gear out of the Dubose house. Not that I relish the thought of going back.”
“I’m not going back,” said Al unabashedly. “At least, not quite yet. Maybe I’ll have something to contribute later, if need be, but right now – uh-uh. I just can’t. I’m sorry.”
“I completely understand,” said Joshua, rising. “I’m going to call Dr. Peterson right now. And Al --”
“Yessir?”
“You’re my good friend.”
Christine, finished with her classes for the day, made the trek back to St. Helena and to Pelham General Hospital. Meredith stretched and beamed at her friend as Christine entered her room.
“Well, you look awfully perky, for someone who’s just done battle with the boogerman,” said Christine.
Meredith smiled even broader. “I’ve had a great morning,” she said.
“Did you meet a cute doctor?” Christine asked.
“No, not hardly,” said Meredith. “I did meet a new cardiologist, but he’s pretty well fossilized. No attraction there. He said I’m doing fine, but he wants me to stay one more night. So you’re going to have to bring me some pajamas. These lovely designer hospital gowns are a little too drafty for me."
“I’ll bring you something to wear this afternoon. I thought I’d get us both a burger or something for lunch.”
“The dietary Nazis might not appreciate that, but you know what? I don’t too much care.”
Christine sat next to the bed. “Hospital food. Ack.”
“Food for the unwashed masses,” said Meredith. “Hey – let me tell you what happened this morning.” She grinned slyly.
“Do tell,” said Christine.
Meredith reached over to her bedside table and picked up the Gideon Bible.
“Chrissy,” she said, “I’m now a Christian.”
Christine blinked. “You’re what?”
“I think I did it right,” said Meredith. “I just read some scripture, and I realized that I wasn’t a Christian, so I prayed and asked God to save me and for Jesus to take over my life.”
“Meredith,” stammered Christine, “I thought you were a Christian.”
Meredith shook her head. “No, Christine, I wasn’t. I’ve always believed in God and Jesus, and felt like I was going to heaven. But all that’s happened these last few days has made me realize that even when I prayed I wasn’t getting any comfort. It just struck me – I knew about Jesus, but I didn’t actually have a personal relationship with Him. I’ve heard that whenever I went to church with you, and I knew it all in my head. But I’ve never actually asked Him to save me. Does that make any sense?”
“Yes, it does,” Christine said, her eyes starting to well up.
“You know, we never really talked about it,” said Meredith. “We’d talk about youth trips, and church stuff, but we never really got around to this.”
“I guess we didn’t,” said Christine sadly. “Gosh, Meredith, I guess I just always assumed that you were a Christian.”
“Well, I knew what I was supposed to do,” Meredith said. She held up the Bible. “I didn’t read anything in here I didn’t already know. It was just time, you know?”
“Yeah.”
“And Chrissy, it’s the wildest thing,” said Meredith, in wonder. “It didn’t thunder – I didn’t hear any voice booming from the sky. But I feel like someone’s just turned on the light in a dark room. How about that?”
“How about that?” said Christine, still feeling guilty.
“So, I guess I’ll need to talk to Joshua about getting baptized and all that, huh?”
“Yeah. Absolutely. Cool!”
“It is pretty cool,” said Meredith, smiling again. Then her face clouded. “But we still have this little issue of my house. Wonder what’s gonna happen next?”
“Wish you hadn’t brought that up,” said Christine. “But that situation’s in good hands.”
Joshua called New Orleans Seminary and asked for Thomas Peterson. “I’m sorry,” the switchboard operator said, “Dr. Peterson retired last semester. But he’s given us permission to give out his home telephone number. Would you like that?”
Boy, am I out of the loop, thought Joshua. “Yes, that would be fine.”
The operator gave Joshua the number, and he dialed it immediately.
“Hello?” a wizened voice answered.
“Dr. Peterson?”
“Speaking.”
“Dr. Peterson,” said Joshua, trying to keep his voice calm. “This is Joshua Nix. I was one of your students back in the mid 90’s”
“Joshua Nix,” Peterson repeated slowly. “Would this be Joshua Nix from Eufaula?”
“One and the same,” said Joshua, relieved. “I’d forgotten you were an Alabama product yourself. How are you, sir?”
“Retired and enjoying gardening,” Peterson said. “I just retired a few months ago. I remember what God told Moses – ‘you have dwelt long enough on this mount.’ It was time to leave academia to some of those youngsters.”
For the next few minutes, Joshua and Peterson chatted about old classmates, the changes in the seminary, family matters.
Finally, Peterson said, “Joshua, I’m guessing that this is more than just a social call.”
“It is, sir,” said Joshua, “although I’ve enjoyed catching up on old times.”
“Well, son, how might I help you? I am assuming you need some help, perhaps, if that’s not too presumptuous.”
“Not at all, and this one’s a dilly,” said Joshua. “Do you have time?”
“Time I do have.”
Joshua took a deep breath and launched into the convoluted tale. He consciously didn’t mention Precious McRae’s name. Peterson listened politely, making periodic agreeable noises: “Hmmm… I see … you don’t say.” And so forth. Joshua wondered if Peterson thought he was listening to the ravings of a lunatic. But Joshua continued, barely pausing for breath.
After Joshua finished telling of the apparitions in the great hall, he paused. Silence. “Well, sir,” he said finally, “what do you make of all this?”
“Joshua, I’m an old man,” said Peterson. “If I’d heard this twenty years ago, I’d look on this as red meat. I’d be there before morning. But my health has curtailed a lot of my comings and goings. You understand, I’m sure.”
“I do understand,” said Joshua. His heart sunk.
“Have you talked to anyone else about these occurrences?”
“Just a couple of folks,” said Joshua. He hesitated, then continued: “The physic investigator I mentioned? It’s someone you know. Hardwick – Precious – McRae.”
Peterson laughed. Joshua cringed. “That rascal!” said Peterson. “Has he helped you all?”
“I’m not sure if he has or not,” Joshua said. Then he grew suddenly sober. “Actually, he may have stirred things up.”
Peterson stopped laughing and sighed. “Hardwick means well. He’s a bright gentleman – he has a terrific mind. But he was prone to mold scripture to match his own beliefs. He had an unhealthy interest in the supernatural. I rue the day that he decided to drop out of seminary without completing his education. Now, I’m afraid he’s trying to tackle deadly serious issues with half-truths.”
“He has been very persuasive,” said Joshua. “And he seems to have some valid points.”
“Hardwick was prone to take the truths of scripture and complicate them,” said Peterson. “In my experience, I found it much simpler just to interpret my observations by the most unquestionable spiritual principles.”
“And what would those be, sir?”
“Joshua, please take heed of what I am about to say. It will save you much heartache in the days to come. Because if you are to face these evil beings, you must be prepared and know what it is you are coming against.”
“What am I coming against, Dr. Peterson?”
“Joshua, son, you are coming agai
nst the Angel of the Abyss and his minions.”
Joshua felt a surge of unbridled terror sweep over him. “Dr. Peterson,” he said softly, “I’m not the one to do something like that.”
“And who, tell me, convinced you of that?”
I’ve convinced myself, Joshua thought. “Actually – no one.”
“Then it may very well be that God has raised you up for such a time as this.”
Joshua cringed. He realized that Peterson was casting him in the role of Reluctant Young Warrior, and he wanted no part of it. Before Joshua could speak, Peterson continued.
“Son, I do not question the reality of what you have experienced. We give Satan a foothold when we dismiss supernatural events outright. The proper questions are – are these good spirits or bad spirits? Do they intend to benefit us or injure us? Tell me, Joshua – the young lady, Meredith. Is she a Christian?”
“I honestly don’t believe she is,” Joshua said.
“Then, she is susceptible to possession, and it sounds to me as if she may have experienced the beginning phases of such. Now, a Christian cannot be possessed of a demon, of course, but Christians can be tormented.”
“Dr. Peterson,” said Joshua, “I’m struggling with something here. If demons still can possess people today – and, again assuming that your assessment is correct – then why don’t we hear more incidents of possession?”
“I think the answer is to be found with Satan himself,” said Peterson. “I saw many incidences of possession in India, years ago, but you very rarely see possession taking place in so-called ‘Christian’ lands. Satan works under cover of darkness in our world and in our country, concealing his nature and purpose. Should he allow demonic possession to rage as it did in the elder days, he would tend to reveal himself and his true character, and I think he chooses not to do that. Think about your own temptations – I dare say you aren’t tempted to take a gun and go on a killing spree. Satan can’t tempt you that way. But he can and will tempt you in more subtle, insidious ways … in a sense, he tailors his attacks on you to achieve maximum effect.”
Joshua immediately thought of Meredith. Of course, he thought.