The Hammer of Amalynth
Page 12
The pastor glanced over at John and looked like he wanted to smile but restrained himself instead. “Like those week’s readings and today’s we meet up with Job, a somewhat curious character in the Old Testament. What did God see in Job that the world didn’t see? I think it can be summed up in the man’s own words: I know that my Redeemer lives. You see, even Job had a little bit of faith—despite the adversity—and even a tiny spark like that in us can start a fire.”
Pastor Cordell looked down at his notes and in a first, he walked away from the podium and stood with his back to the altar to face the congregation. “I’m a lot like Job some days. I often ask God—what are you doing now? Like when the lightning bolt hit. I confess I thought for sure it was the end of me. If it wasn’t the fire or the rain leaking in or the cleanup, it was the insurance paperwork afterward. But I realized something. I was looking for my answers in all the wrong places and in all the wrong people. Like Job, I found myself surrounded by counselors who gave me well-meaning advice but in the end there was only one way through it all. God gave me that assurance one night in response to one of my prayers. The path was not one of my choosing—but it was the right path.”
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After the service, Pastor Cordell shook hands with John and Madeline. “Say, I’ve been meaning to ask you,” the pastor said to John. “Were you ever able to track down that guy you were looking for? What was his name again?”
“Dr. Amalynth. Yeah, he went away for a while. It’s in the news. Like you said in your sermon, he spent all his time looking for answers in people.”
“And I didn’t have all the answers for him? I’m shocked.” Pastor Cordell tried to laugh it off, but there was an obvious look of discomfort and uncertainty in his eyes. “No, I’m sorry to hear that. Good to see you both.” He shook Madeline’s hand and then turned to face the next church member behind them in line.
As John moved through the narthex and on to the exit door, he ran into the three churchgoers he met the last time he was here. The three of them had an animated discussion about another one of Jared’s books, Are Miracles Electric? Steve defended his point by opening up the book and showing the others a highlighted passage.
John nudged Madeline and leaned in toward the group. “Didn’t you hear what the pastor said today?” he said. “Stop looking for your answers in other people.”
Before any of them could react John pressed on toward the stairs that led to the exit. He held Madeline’s hand the entire time and even opened the exit door for her. He could not explain his emotions for her this morning but for some reason he felt unhindered. It was as if a burden somewhere had been lifted and although he could not pinpoint the connection he knew he was looking at the world a little bit differently now.
Outside in the parking lot a gentleman on a motorcycle pulled up with a roar and parked his bike. The man took off his helmet to reveal a head of graying hair along with a gray mustache and ponytail. The man, who looked to be in his late sixties, adjusted his glasses and straddled his motorcycle. He wore a black leather jacket and removed his black leather gloves one finger at a time on each hand and tucked them into his helmet. He dismounted, cradled his helmet under his right arm, and surveyed the grounds with the look of somebody about to swipe the land out from under them in one transaction.
“Can we help you?” Madeline asked as she clutched John’s hand tight.
The man studied the roof and then looked down at John and Madeline. “Perhaps.” The man moved closer until they were all a foot apart from each other. “I’m looking for the pastor or the priest here. Is he around?”
“Sure, he’s right inside. Want me to take you to him?” John said.
“No. I’ll find him.”
“If you need anything, let me know.”
The man seemed preoccupied as if he only half-listened to them. Without looking at John he said, “And what was your name?”
“John.”
“Thank you…John,” the man said in a polite but firm voice. He continued up the sidewalk until he slipped inside the church.
Madeline elected to stare at the entrance door a few extra seconds. Meanwhile, John pondered if he should have helped the man more than he did. After all, the last thing he wanted to do was to help create another Dr. Amalynth.
Chapter Twenty-Three
For most of the drive home to Madeline’s apartment, John could not help but think of the simple good he did by greeting the wayward stranger at the entrance to the church. Too many times over the years he had seen situations where nobody stepped forward to greet a new arrival and that person never returned again. He found himself in that situation a few times and today he had enough of it.
“Do you realize that guy we met today could have been me?” John said as he turned onto the highway that ran toward Wick.
“Since when did you ride a motorcycle?” Madeline said with a puzzled look.
“I’ve thought about it. No, I meant he looked kind of lost. Like he had just been through something major and needed someone to talk to. Half the time nobody says anything to those people. If that was me and everyone ignored me I would never come back.”
They drove along in silence for a while as Madeline watched the farms and prairie grass roll by. A combine churned through a cornfield and spit out a cloud of brown dust behind it. Rows of brown withered stalks were reduced to clumps of stubble.
“So tell me,” Madeline said. “Do I ever let you down?”
John knew it was a loaded question. Whichever way he answered would have implications further along in the course of their relationship. Instead of answering directly, he took a different tack. “So when are you going to forgive your Dad? For whatever he did.”
“You didn’t answer my question. Or are you saying because I’m not forgiving my Dad I’m letting you down? And it isn’t just whatever he did. It’s more complicated than that. I’ll explain it to you sometime.” She let out a loud sigh.
“How about now?”
“No. I have things to figure out first.”
“Like...?”
“Like who that man was that showed up at church.”
“Why? Have you seen him before?”
She hesitated. “I don’t know. And he didn’t look lost to me. He looked like he was on a mission.” She took a deep breath. “Look. Dad used to talk about this guy he knew years ago who was supposedly a friend but then turned on him. Dad claimed he thought the guy was after him or us and trying to kill him. He claimed the guy turned into some kind of rogue scientist.”
“What was his name?”
She turned to face him with anxious eyes. “Dr. Minton.”
“Why didn’t you say something before? Like back in the lab?”
“Because I think he’s a phantom. An illusion. An excuse.”
“Okay. But if he’s a phantom, explain the note in the lab with his name on it. And how do you explain the spiders I saw in Amalynth’s lab, at your Dad’s, and then the carnival?” John pondered the thought a moment. “Unless Dr. Amalynth was making prototypes for Dr. Minton. And now they’ve been destroyed.”
John waited for her to comment but she remained quiet. “Or are you thinking that was him today on the motorcycle?”
“I don’t know. No. I mean, I still don’t think he’s real. So are you still going to write that paper? About Dad?”
“If you’re okay with it. If not, I’ll stop. But if you are okay with it, are you coming with?”
Madeline narrowed her eyes at him. “Let me get back to you.” She then turned to look at the fields again but this time John could see the hint of a smile in her features.
* * *
At home, John sat in his office at his desktop computer and made a new entry in his chase log. He wrote up an essay about the storms that overtook the carnival, the resulting damage, and the destruction at the abandoned church. He added some notes about the ensuing cleanup and the fact that only three people were injured at the carnival and that it was a mir
acle no one was killed He even included lightning tracker data from the night as a set of side notes. He then wrote the following summary:
Lightning. When a storm cloud passes overhead, it induces an equal but opposite charge in the earth beneath. In between, a medium of resistance causes the charges to build up until they reach a certain point. The charges then overcome the medium in a high-power discharge called lightning. At night, the discharge is a momentary burst of daylight. It exposes everything in sight. The thunder that follows rouses everyone from their slumber.
He stopped, saved his work, and shut the computer down. He stood up, went into the bathroom, and looked at his face in the mirror. His eyes were bright and hopeful now and he was proud of himself for having worked his way through the Book of Matthew over the past month. A small part of him felt like he was getting the hang of things again and although he did not know what lay ahead, the promise of adventure and discovery drew him forward. In time, he knew, the answers would probably come.
As he made his way into the kitchen he heard a tap sound on the roof. It was windy this evening yet he was sure it was not a pine cone this time. With a heavy sigh he readied himself for what he was about to find. He went outside and casually looked up to the roof. He then peered at the grass in front of the house.
There at his feet was the bright red nosecone of a hobby rocket. Attached to it was a black-and-white checkered parachute. He bent down and picked it up. The nosecone was made of plastic, as was the parachute, and he did not find anything else attached to it. Perhaps it had landed in a nearby tree earlier and only now fell to the ground. Whatever the case, he laughed it off and set it back onto the grass near the sidewalk to lie in wait for the hobbyist to recover it.
He then walked to the back of the house and onto the stone patio to start the barbecue grill. After all, he and Captain never had their customary steak dinner following the tornado they chased southwest of Valentine. He flipped up the lid of the grill and twisted the first burner knob to ignite the flame. Several clicks could be heard but no flame could be seen. With a sigh he bent down to check the valve on the propane tank only to find the tank was gone.
About the Author
Michael Galloway is an outdoors enthusiast whose interests include camping, fishing, hiking, writing, and technology. He has a degree in Journalism, and has been writing software in one language or another for over twenty years. He currently lives in Minnesota with his family.
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Also by Michael Galloway
An Echo Through the Trees
Theft at the Speed of Light
Horizons
Gathering the Wind
Corridors
Fractal Standard Time
Ionotatron
Chronopticus Rising
The Chronopticus Chronicles Series
Race the Sky