Broken is the Grave

by Candle Sutton

  A shadow crossed over him.

  He jerked around, ready to defend Bethany and JJ, only to find Josiah standing beside them, a crying Becca and sniffling Pete in his arms.

  “I’m going to take the children to the boat. The Lord said it was safe.”

  The boat was definitely the safest place for them at the moment. He looked at Bethany. “Go with Josiah. You’ll be safe there.”

  She pushed up, pausing in a crouch. “What about you?”

  “I’ll be fine. Just go. Your kids need you.”

  “Come with us.”

  Small tremors had begun in his limbs. He honestly didn’t know if he’d make it if he tried. “I’m going to wait for Elly and Zander. Please go.”

  She was torn. He could see it in her eyes.

  But between Becca’s sobbing, Pete’s whimpering, and JJ’s trembling, she clearly knew who needed her the most.

  Without another word, she rose and followed Josiah across the lot toward the security gate.

  Once they were through the gate, Zeke rested his head back against the cool metal of the van.

  Blood snaked through his fingers and down his arm.

  The burning had morphed into a pulsing heat that throbbed through his chest. His feet were cold and his hands felt heavy.

  He looked down again. The right side of his shirt was streaked with red. Blood pooled by the pocket on his khaki cargo shorts.

  It seemed like a lot of blood.

  Then again, what did he know? He’d never bled much before.

  He was suddenly so tired.

  Maybe sleep would help. His eyes drifted closed.

  “Zeke?” A touch of horror colored Elly’s words.

  Forcing his eyes open, he found Elly’s face hovering a few feet away. Her hand moved toward him.

  “No.” The word came out strangled.

  While he wanted the pain to stop, he didn’t want her to feel it. He didn’t want her to heal him.

  Where was Zander? Maybe he could stop her.

  He tried to look around, but lacked the energy to move much. No sign of Zander behind her, though.

  Probably went after the shooter.

  Her hands clasped his blood-stained one. “I want to. I choose to use the gift God has given me.”

  Warmth pulsed from her hands. It felt nothing like the burning fire that the wound had brought. Rather, it was like the sun on his face. Peaceful. Comforting.

  The pain receded. Blood stopped pumping through his fingers.

  Elly’s eyes had closed. A small moan slipped from her and her eyebrows knit together.

  All pain vanished. Fresh strength pushed away the fatigue.

  Her hand fell away. She swayed slightly.

  He eased her against himself.

  The sirens grew steadily louder, but were probably still a few minutes off. Not that there was anything they could do for her. Only time would help her regain her strength.

  “Shooter’s gone.” Zander rounded the corner of the van.

  Zeke saw Zander’s eyes move over Elly, to the blood on the ground, to Zeke, before returning to linger on Elly. Zander’s lips tightened.

  This was his fault. Elly suffered because of him.

  “I tried to stop her. I didn’t want…” What? For God to work through her? For her to use the gifts God had given?

  Zander knelt beside her, brushing hair out of her face. “I get it. I just hate seeing her like this.”

  “We all do.”

  “We need to get her inside before backup arrives. It’ll be hard enough to explain all the blood. I don’t want to have to try to explain this, too.” Zander smoothed her hair back. “El, can you hear me?”

  “Yes.” The word whispered out of lips that barely moved.

  “I’m going to carry you on the boat, okay?” Zander didn’t wait for a reply before gently drawing her to himself and slowly rising.

  “I’ll get the gate.” Zeke moved ahead of them toward the gate, punching in his code and holding it open while Zander walked through. The sirens were almost upon them by the time they boarded.

  Zander set Elly on the sofa in the upper cabin, then lightly slapped Zeke on the back. “Come on. We’ve got some explaining to do.”

  Four police cars waited in the parking lot, their flashing lights strobing the area in an unnatural red glow. Two officers knelt by the bloodstain Zeke had left, while a few others went car to car, peeking in the windows.

  “Wait here.” Zander pulled out his badge and strode into the fray.

  Zeke eased down onto a bench.

  How could things go so horribly wrong so quickly?

  Someone had just tried to kill them!

  No, not them. Bethany. He had no doubt she’d been the intended target. He’d simply gotten in the way.

  Which might’ve saved Bethany’s life. No telling where the bullet would have hit her if he hadn’t taken it instead.

  Lord, we need your help.

  They had to find the person – or people – after Bethany and put a stop to this chaos.

  Next time someone might die.

  ₪ ₪ ₪

  The man slung his gun into the spare tire compartment in his trunk, closed the trunk as quietly as he could, then rushed around to the driver’s side.

  He hadn’t gotten the woman.

  Tobias wasn’t gonna be happy.

  Well, too bad. Maybe he shoulda been here, instead of pawning his dirty work off on someone else.

  He jerked the wheel and squealed away from the curb.

  A light changed in front of him. He slammed on his brakes and cursed.

  If only he could tell Tobias that he’d killed the woman. That all their problems were over. But he hadn’t even hit her.

  He didn’t know what he’d tell Tobias about tonight’s colossal failure. Tobias wasn’t exactly the forgiving sort.

  At least it was late enough that he could put it off until tomorrow. Maybe he’d come up with a good story by then.

  ₪ ₪ ₪

  Bethany grabbed a few cookies out of the plastic container on the counter, glancing at the stairs as if that would magically make Zeke appear.

  How was he doing? He’d been so pale. And all that blood. Her mouth dried at the memory of it.

  If only she could be in two places at once. Zeke needed her.

  But her kids needed her more.

  She’d finally gotten them calmed down enough that the tears had stopped. Even at that, she wasn’t sure any of them would sleep tonight.

  Crossing back to where all three kids watched her from the low-profile sofa, she handed them the cookies.

  They scarfed them down like they hadn’t eaten all day.

  Evidently the adrenaline dump from earlier had made them hungry.

  Becca turned serious hazel eyes on her. “Milk, pwease?”

  She ruffled the soft brown curls. “Of course, sweetie.”

  Maybe another cookie, too. Ordinarily she monitored their sweets, however tonight was anything but ordinary.

  Footsteps on the stairs!

  Her pulse pounded in her head. What if it was the shooter? They obviously knew how to find her now.

  This boat, this safe place, had become a trap. There was no back way out.

  If the shooter came after her, she had nowhere to go.

  Except into the bay, which wasn’t an option with three young kids.

  Josiah’s lanky frame filled the doorway.

  A tremor worked through her body as she tried to relax.

  But the truth remained. She – they – were no longer safe here. It was time to leave.

  Where would they go? She had no idea if the police had released her apartment, but even if they had, she couldn’t go there. And she refused to bring this trouble on Olive or anyone else she knew.

  It was bad enough that Zeke had been hurt twice because of her.

  She moved into the kitchen and grabbed a few glasses out of the cabinet.

  Josiah stood at the sink, cleaning a
n apple.

  “Thank you for protecting my kids.” She kept her voice low, hoping the kids wouldn’t overhear.

  Josiah shook the excess water from the apple. “Happy to do it.”

  Taking a bite, he crunched the apple for a minute before speaking again. “And it’s not true, you know. That feeling that you are to blame.”

  It was scary how intuitive these people were.

  “It wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t been here.” She shook her head. “How’s Zeke? Have you seen him?”

  “He’s still in the parking lot with Zander.”

  “And Elly? Is she okay?” Come to think of it, she didn’t remember seeing Elly since before the shooting began.

  Josiah hesitated. “She will be. She’s resting upstairs.”

  Bethany took the three glasses of milk to her kids before returning to the kitchen. “You said Elly will be okay. Was she hit?”

  “Not… directly.”

  Could you be indirectly shot?

  She tried to imagine what that would look like. A ricochet, maybe?

  But that didn’t work. She would still be directly hit by the bullet, even if it deflected off something else first. “What do you mean?”

  “Elly has a special gift. God uses her to heal. But it always takes a physical toll on her.”

  That’s right. Zander had mentioned healings. “A toll?”

  “I don’t know exactly how it works, but God seems to transfer Elly’s life into them. In the process, she feels their pain.”

  “Why? God can heal. Why put her through that?”

  “I don’t know why God does the things He does sometimes. I choose to trust Him when I can’t understand.” He studied her for a second, as though pondering if he should say what was on his mind. “I think often we ask the wrong question. Instead of ‘why’, maybe we should ask ‘why not’.”

  Maybe she was just really tired… okay, she was exhausted… but his words weren’t making any sense. “Why not what?”

  “Well, you had asked why she should have to suffer for doing God’s work, but maybe we should ask why shouldn’t there be suffering involved? Obedience is usually costly. It may just be letting go of our own self-interests or desires or it may cost our lives, but there’s usually some price to pay.” Josiah leaned back against the counter. “Jesus’ obedience led Him straight to the cross. Why should we expect things to be different for us?”

  Was he right?

  She tried to think of a scenario where obedience wouldn’t involve some kind of sacrifice and came up empty. Even if God called her to do something she wanted to do, there would be a trade-off. A cost.

  “Doesn’t make obedience a very attractive option, does it?”

  Josiah swallowed another bite of apple and grinned. “Not always, but the results are always worth the sacrifice. And disobedience carries a steep price of its own.”

  That was sure true. She didn’t have to look very far in her own life to see the proof of his words.

  This conversation was too deep for her right now.

  How had they gotten started on this? Oh, yeah. Healing.

  Who had Elly healed? It had to be Zeke, right? As far as she knew, he was the only one who had been hurt tonight. “So, Zeke? He’s all right?”

  “He is now.” Polishing off the last of the apple, Josiah threw the core into the trash. He filled two glasses with water. “I’m headed upstairs to keep an eye on Elly.”

  Probably a good idea.

  Josiah paused with a foot on the bottom step. “You know, volunteering at the prison has taught me a lot. Did you know that when there’s an incident at the prison and the inmates are anxious or afraid, there’s one thing that seems to calm them? Scripture.” He nodded at her kids, all huddled together on the sofa. “Maybe reminding them that Jesus can calm the greatest storm would help.”

  Scripture.

  She stood staring at the spot he’d been standing long after she heard his footsteps stop upstairs.

  Why did she never think of going to the Bible for help?

  She pulled up the Bible app on her phone and searched for the story of Jesus calming the seas.

  Josiah was right. This was exactly what she and her kids needed as the winds whipped and the waves crashed all around them.

  She just prayed Jesus would calm the storm soon, before the waves crushed the fragile boat of her life.

  ₪ ₪ ₪

  “So, tell me again how you got all this blood on you.” The detective looked at Zeke, eyebrow raised, as if daring him to repeat the same unbelievable story again.

  “I got shot. My sister prayed. God healed me.” There really was no other way to say it. He shrugged off his shirt, which was crusty with dried blood, and pointed out the scar below his shoulder. “This is all that’s left of it.”

  “That’s years old.” The detective’s voice turned cross.

  Zeke put his finger through the bullet hole in the shirt itself. “This isn’t. Neither is the blood. Why is it so hard to believe God can heal?”

  The detective pinched his lips together but said nothing.

  Zander came up behind Zeke and lightly clapped him on the back. “I know it’s unbelievable, but I can confirm that’s what happened. Do DNA testing. It’ll back up his story.”

  The detective shook his head slowly. “We’ll do it, but you know as well as I do that it’ll take time to get those results back. Meanwhile, I’m worried that there’s someone with a life-threatening wound out there somewhere.”

  “Well, unless I hit the guy who was shooting at us, there isn’t.”

  “No blood evidence around that tree.”

  Zander lifted his arms as if to say “well, there you have it” but didn’t vocalize anything.

  A breeze chilled Zeke’s bare chest and he put his arms back into his shirt.

  “We’re gonna need that for evidence.”

  He paused, the shirt halfway over his head, as the detective’s voice stopped him.

  Of course they’d need the shirt for evidence. He hadn’t even thought about that.

  He pulled the shirt off again and offered it to the detective, who waved another officer over. The officer held out an evidence bag and Zeke deposited his shirt inside.

  As the officer labeled and sealed the bag, Zeke looked at the detective. “Is it all right if I go get another shirt? That wind has a bite to it.”

  The detective nodded. “In fact, I’ll go with you. I need to talk to the other people involved.”

  Reaching the boat, they found Josiah keeping vigil over Elly, who hadn’t moved from the couch where Zander had put her. Sweat beaded her forehead, which was way too pale. In spite of the comfortable temperature in the cabin and the blanket tucked around her, shivers rocked her body.

  He never should have let her heal him.

  But who was he to deny her the privilege of being used by God?

  Josiah set his Bible aside as the three of them entered the cabin.

  “The detective needs to ask you some questions.” Zander knelt beside Elly and brushed her damp curls away from her face. “Elly? Honey, the detective is here.”

  Stirring, she mumbled something, but didn’t open her eyes.

  “She okay?” The detective stared at Elly, his concerned tone belying his stoic expression.

  Zander didn’t look away from Elly. “She will be. Right now, she’s fighting a fever.”

  The detective stared at her for a moment longer before turning to Josiah. “Let’s head out on the deck.”

  Josiah led the way into the darkness outside.

  After watching Zander try to rouse Elly again, Zeke turned to go below deck.

  First, he’d clean up and put on a fresh shirt. He looked down at his blood spotted shorts. Okay, maybe he’d need to change everything.

  Then he’d check on Bethany and the kids.

  With any luck, the kids would be in a bedroom and wouldn’t see all the blood on him.

  His feet hit the bottom step
and he looked up to find Bethany standing there, blocking his path.

  With her lips parted, she stared at his chest, her eyes slowly moving, following the blood down his torso.

  From where he stood, he couldn’t see the kids. Which also meant they couldn’t see him.

  “Your kids shouldn’t see this.”

  In spite of his soft tone, her head snapped up. “Oh. You’re right.”

  Yet she made no move to get out of the way.

  “Bethany?”

  “Are you okay?” Tears sparkled in her hazel eyes. “I mean, there’s so much…”

  “I’m okay. God healed me.” He looked past her, but saw no sign of her kids. “Can you turn off the kitchen light? I don’t want your kids to see the blood.”

  “Right. Right. Of course.” She moved out of the way and flicked the switch.

  The kitchen went dark. Dim light spilled out of the living area, providing enough light for him to pick his way through the kitchen, but hopefully not enough for her kids to see him in any detail.

  After gathering some clean clothes, he moved toward the shower.

  Hot water ran over him. He scrubbed at the blood caked in the hair on his chest, his movements jerky and frantic.

  He just wanted it off.

  Memories pounded him. The gunshots. The running. Bethany’s fear. JJ’s trembling. Elly’s pain. The police processing him like some kind of crime scene. The EMTs looking him over and declaring him to be fine.

  “Why, Father?” The whispered prayer mingled with the water. Why did it seem like evil always won in this world?

  What hope did any of them have when it felt like danger lurked in every shadow?

  I lift up my eyes to the mountains – where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth.

  Psalm 121 ran through his head, the words soothing his soul like the water soothed his body.

  Though trouble swarmed and the world crumbled, God was bigger than all of it.

  God, who made the heights of the mountains and the depths of the seas, would care for them in His perfect way.

  He wasn’t called to understand, but to trust.

  Which, when faced with guns and men who killed people in broad daylight, was one of the hardest callings of all.