Wailing and Gnashing of Teeth

by Ray Garton

  "He was concerned about Leroy's fear," she continued. "The fact that Leroy was afraid of things in the Bible—I mean, literally terrified by Bible stories and sometimes the words of God himself, and especially of the end times—"

  "The end times?" Lauren said.

  "I didn't tell you about that?"

  "You said he was afraid of certain Bible stories, like Abraham and Isaac, but you didn't mention the end times."

  "Ah. Well. Wyatt talked a lot about the end times. He was convinced, as so many of us are, that we're living in the last days. So much has changed since Wyatt was...well, since he...passed. If he were alive today, he'd see that he was right back then. All the signs in the Bible are coming to pass. So many earthquakes and floods, diseases, homosexuals taking over and being given special treatment, pagan environmentalists worshipping the earth instead of God, and such an increase in knowledge—all this technology, computers, the internet bringing all kinds of pornography and wickedness right into children's bedrooms. It's all around us, happening right now. Jesus will be coming soon, dear, don't think he won't. Wyatt was eager for that to happen, for Jesus to return. He thought it would happen in his lifetime. He talked about it a lot. For many of our family Bible studies, Wyatt read from Revelation and Daniel and other parts of the New Testament that speak of the end times."

  "What was it about the last days that frightened Leroy so much?"

  "Well, all the signs of the end were scary to him. He became obsessed with them. He was terrified of the Antichrist. By the time he was...oh, I don't know, nine years old or so...he would read the newspaper every night after Wyatt was done with it. He'd pore over it, looking for signs that the Antichrist was here, that he was approaching power. He was too young to really understand the news. But any mention of war in the paper or on the TV news would send him into a panic. You know, because of what Jesus said in Matthew. 'And ye shall hear of wars and rumors of wars.' I tried to point out to him that in that same verse, Jesus said, 'see that ye be not troubled.' I tried to tell him that Jesus was going to take care of his people. But he didn't take any comfort in that. He didn't see any of the promises of the Bible, only the bad things. In that same chapter in Matthew, Jesus said, 'Then shall they deliver up to be afflicted and shall kill you, and ye shall be hated of all nations for my name's sake.' He would have nightmares about that. About being persecuted and hunted and killed by the Antichrist and his followers. He'd wake up at night screaming. It worried us at first, but after a while, after we tried to assure him that he was safe because Jesus would protect the righteous, and he didn't listen, didn't calm down or change...well, Wyatt began to fear that the Bible's promises weren't comforting him because inside, Leroy knew he...he wasn't one of the righteous, one of Jesus's people."

  "What about Pastor Crane, what did he tell you about his talk with Leroy?"

  Madge looked down at the table sadly and slowly turned her head back and forth. "He told us exactly what Wyatt had feared. Pastor Crane said that Wyatt's fear of all things godly was due to the fact that Satan was inside him. He was afraid of the last days because he knew they would bring Satan's doom. He determined that Leroy was suffering from possession."

  "Demon possession?"

  "Oh, yes. Yes. Pastor Crane said it explained Leroy's attraction to dark things like horror movies. It explained all those posters on his walls. It explained his anger and his nightmares. It explained why he was so terribly worried about his teeth, he was obsessed with his teeth, and it—"

  "Teeth?" Lauren said, flinching. Teeth had played a significant role in Leroy's killings, one that no one had ever been able to explain fully. "What about his teeth?"

  "Oh. I didn't already tell you about that?"

  "No."

  "Well, when Leroy was quite young—he was just a little thing—Wyatt read something in Matthew that really upset Leroy. I think it's in Matthew 13."

  The number 13, Lauren thought, reaching into her bag for a pen. She quickly began jotting notes. Leroy had carved the number 13 into chests of all of his victims.

  Madge said, "The passage goes, 'So shall it be at the end of the world: The angels shall come forth, and sever the wicked from the just—'"

  Lauren quickly wrote and underlined, "Sever?" in her folder. Leroy had severed the limbs and head of each of his victims.

  "'—and shall cast them into the furnace of fire. There shall be wailing and gnashing of teeth.'"

  "That frightened Leroy?"

  "Well, it's a frightening passage. At least, it's frightening for those who refuse to accept Christ Jesus as their savior and will have that fate at the end. But what bothered Leroy so much was the 'gnashing of teeth.' He misunderstood it. He explained to me once—it was several years later—that he thought 'gnashing of teeth' meant that people would be tearing their own teeth out of their heads. That's the image he saw in his head when he first heard that passage read from the Bible. And from then on, he...oh, I know this sounds silly, but it was a very serious issue to Leroy...he equated teeth problems—loose teeth, cavities, anything at all—with damnation. He thought they meant one was doomed to be thrown into that furnace."

  "Did you explain it to him so he could understand it?"

  "I tried. I told him that 'gnashing of teeth' meant grinding teeth together, that it was something the wicked would do while they were burning for their sins, for their rejection of God. But by then, I think it was too late. That image was burned into Leroy's mind."

  "Do you think that had something to do with what he did?" Lauren said.

  "You mean...the killings?"

  "Well, specifically what he did with the victims' teeth. He removed all their teeth and kept them. Police found a bag of teeth in his apartment after Leroy...um, after he ended his own life. All of them belonged to his victims."

  Madge frowned and her eyes widened slightly. "Oh. My. That...hadn't occurred to me. Do you think there was a connection?"

  Lauren pressed her lips together. "Mmm. Could be. What was Pastor Crane's conclusion."

  "Oh, well he decided our only option was an exorcism."

  "Really? An exorcism?"

  "I know it's controversial. Not all Christians subscribe to that sort of thing. But Pastor Crane thought it was essential. Necessary. And we were so desperate that we agreed to it."

  "Where did that take place?"

  "Here at the house. In Leroy's bedroom. We followed all of Pastor Crane's instructions. He'd done it before, many times, and knew what he was doing. We put a lock on the outside of Leroy's bedroom door so he couldn't get out. Pastor Crane said that confronting the demons in Leroy would anger them and they would become much more dangerous. They would fight hard. We couldn't let Leroy get out."

  "What did the exorcism involve? What was done?"

  "I wasn't present for most of it. I took food into the room for Wyatt and Pastor Crane. Leroy didn't eat that week, and he lost a lot of weight."

  "That week?"

  "Oh, yes. The exorcism lasted an entire week. I think being outside the room made it worse for me because I didn't know what was happening. All that screaming. Leroy just screamed and screamed. Well...not exactly Leroy. Pastor Crane told me it was the demons that were screaming. They did terrible things to Leroy. The demons, I mean. He was so beaten up. I had to keep going in there to tend to his wounds. The exorcism might have lasted longer, but Leroy lost consciousness and we couldn't revive him. And he was bleeding. In fact, we had to take him to the hospital. Well, Wyatt took him. To the emergency room."

  "Was he okay?"

  "He was hurt. Badly beaten up by the demons. And he hadn't eaten."

  "How did Wyatt explain that at the hospital?"

  "I'm not sure. He never told me. He had to lie because they never would have understood at the hospital, he knew that. And lying upset him. Like I said, he was a very godly man. He took the Ten Commandments seriously. It deeply disturbed him to have to lie. But it was necessary. I remember he prayed
long and hard that night for Jesus to forgive him. It was necessary, but it was still a sin."

  "What happened to Leroy after that?"

  "Well, Pastor Crane had warned us from the start. He said an exorcism would force the issue. It would have one of two results. Either the demons would leave Leroy and he would be filled with the spirit of the Lord, or...or..." Her voice thickened with emotion at the memory. "...or the demons would only become more powerful, more entrenched inside Leroy. He said it would all depend on Leroy. Deep down inside, Leroy would make a decision. He would choose a side. He would decide whether to fight the demons and side with God...or give in to Satan and remain possessed." She sniffled, removed her glasses for a moment and wiped her moist eyes with a knuckle. "I think we all know what Leroy's decision was."

  "What happened after the exorcism?"

  "It took him a while to recover from his injuries. He was quieter after that. Very quiet, in fact. He changed. Not for the better. But it took us a while to realize just how much it was not for the better."

  Lauren frowned as she leaned forward. "Madge, after all of this came out...after Leroy killed his father and then himself and police discovered that he'd been responsible for all those killings...didn't anyone ever sit down and talk to you?"

  "Oh, yes, the police. Of course, the police talked to me."

  "But I mean any reporters? Weren't there journalists like me who wanted to ask you questions like this? Didn't anyone ever try to figure out why Leroy did what he did?"

  "The police asked some questions like that. There were all kinds of journalists who wanted to talk to me, but I turned them down. I knew what would happen, how they would make it all look. Christians are despised in this land, just like Jesus said they would be. America has turned on its Christian heritage and on the Christians who live in its borders. I knew what would happen. So I turned them all down. Until you came along. All these years have passed and I wondered if perhaps it was time to talk to someone. I prayed about it. I prayed a lot. The Lord impressed me that I should talk to you, dear." She reached over and placed her hand on Lauren's. "He told me it would be okay."

  * * * *

  When Lauren gathered her things to leave, Madge stepped in front of her and became very serious. She placed a hand on Lauren's shoulder and said, "I've answered all your questions. Will you answer a question for me, dear?"

  Lauren smiled. "If I can."

  "You have no idea how difficult life has been for me at times since all of this happened. A day doesn't go by when I don't think about all the people Leroy killed. Especially those children. It happens so often that my heart never has time to heal before it breaks again. I've asked myself...so many times...and now, after talking with you for—oh, what's it been, now, three hours? More? I want to ask you."

  "Sure, Madge. Go ahead."

  A tear trickled down Madge's left cheek and her lips trembled slightly. "Was there something I should have done? Was there something I shouldn't have done? Is it possible...somehow...that I am in some way responsible for what Leroy...became? For all the horrible things he did? Could I be at fault?"

  Lauren put her bag down and embraced the small old woman, held her close, and patted her back comfortingly. She said, "You're a godly woman, Madge. Just as your husband was a godly man. You're a good Christian. You obviously love the Lord." She stepped back with her hands on Madge's shoulders and looked into the old woman's eyes. "It's obvious that Satan had his sight set on your son. You did everything right. You did everything you possibly could. And I'm sure the readers of Christian Life and Times will agree."

  GRAVEN IMAGE

  With apologies to Richard Matheson.

  "Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image, or any likeness of any thing that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth: Thou shalt not bow down thyself to them, nor serve them: For I the Lord thy God am a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth generation of them that hate me; and showing mercy unto thousands of them that love Me, and keep My commandments."

  Exodus 20: 4 - 6

  1.

  Hal Dillon could not take his eyes from the large wooden crucifix hanging on the wall. He and his girlfriend Jacquie stood in the rear of Markum's Curios and Antiques with their heads tilted back, staring up at it. It was a steel-gray, rainy Saturday morning in mid-March and Hal could hear the muffled splashes of cars driving back and forth through puddles outside the store. Thunder purred in the distance.

  "You're not actually thinking of buying that, are you?" Jacquie said.

  "As a matter of fact, I am," he said.

  "You're kidding. You mean, you'd put that on your wall?"

  "It's not like it wouldn't go with all the other weird art in my house."

  "True. You do have some strange stuff. But this? I don't know. Come here, I want to show you this lamp."

  She led him to the front of the curio shop and pointed out a tall brass floor lamp. Three upward-glowing lamps branched off from the top.

  "I like it," he said.

  "Think it would go in my apartment? Say, in the corner by the couch?"

  "Sure, why not?"

  "I think I'll get it." Jacquie went to the register, behind which stood a round, bespectacled bald man with a graying Van Dyke beard.

  Hal returned to the back of the store and stood with hands in the pockets of his black leather jacket, studying the crucifix.

  The cross stood about three feet tall, made of dark wood, with a rough, coarse surface. The figure of Christ had been meticulously painted, the body sickly-pale and covered with blood that ran down from the crown of thorns around the head, a stained loincloth around the middle, hands and feet bloodied and torn from the spikes that pierced them and held them to the cross. Christ's body was slender and stringy, with cords of muscles rigid in the neck, arms, and legs. The ribs looked ready to cut through the flesh of his chest and sides like bony razors. The dark nipples stood out like small pencil erasers. Blood ran from a gash in the lower left side of the abdomen where he had been stabbed with a spear. Jesus's head was tilted back, ropes of blood-matted black hair falling around His face. Below his uneven, scraggly, bloody beard, his trachea was a corrugated tube beneath taut flesh.

  Hal could not see the face or the eyes from that angle, but he was eager to see what color they were, how lifelike they were. He reached up and touched the outer side of the left thigh. The skin was smooth, and he could feel the muscles, as if they really were there, beneath that perfectly-smooth skin. It bore no resemblance to the rough surface of the dark cross, although both were carved from the same piece of wood.

  Hal went to the front counter where Jacquie was still talking to the proprietor.

  "Good news," she said. "Markum's delivers! We'd never get that lamp into your Taurus."

  "Very good. I've decided for sure, I want the crucifix."

  "You want the crucifix?" the bald man said with a smile that twitched and faltered. "Just got it in a couple of months ago. It's created quite a stir among my regulars. I honestly thought I'd never unload the thing. I still might not."

  "Really? Why not?"

  "Well, you, uh," the bald man chuckled coldly without smiling again, "you haven't seen the face." He pointed a finger in the direction of the crucifix. "You see the face, then decide if you want to buy it."

  "What's wrong with the face? Is it damaged?"

  "No, no, it's in perfect condition."

  "So, what is it?"

  "You'll see." He turned to the phone, picked up the receiver, and punched a couple of numbers. He waited a moment, then said, "Look, Eric, somebody wants to see the crucifix. Could you bring out the ladder and get it down for me?" He nodded once. "Yes, I understand, but—" He closed his eyes a moment and sighed. "Listen, I don't care about that, just do it, okay?" He frowned. "It's just a piece of wood, Eric, for God's sake, I don't care if you are afraid of it,
just come out and take it down, please." By the time the bald man replaced the receiver, Hal could hear movement in the rear of the store. "Let's go back and have a look, shall we?" the bald man said as he stepped out from behind the counter and led them down an aisle to the back.

  Eric looked like a human bulldog. He had massive shoulders, and a wide, deep barrel chest. He wore a white sweatshirt and jeans, gray sneakers. He carried a ladder from a back room. After setting up the ladder, Eric climbed up and removed the heavy crucifix from the wall and slowly lowered it to the floor.

  While that was going on, the bald man turned to Hal and extended his hand. "Charles Markum," he said with a pleasant smile, tipping his head forward so his bulbous eyes could look at Hal over the top edge of the spectacles.

  Hal shook his hand and smiled and said, "Hal Dillon. And this is Jacquie Smalls."

  "Pleasure to meet you both," Markum said as he gently shook Jacquie's hand. "Now, as to that crucifix," he said to Hal. "I'm willing to bet you'll change your mind when you see the face. Three different people have come in and expressed interest in it, but as soon as they saw the face, they, uh, did not linger. They were gone. I wouldn't mind so much, but most of them are in such a hurry after seeing that thing, they leave the store without buying anything. I'm afraid Jesus is losing me some business."

  "He's that ugly, huh?"

  "Well, I'm not sure I'd say he's ugly, so to speak," Markum said. "You'll see in just a few seconds. Thank you very much, Eric."

  From a distance, Eric looked quite youthful with that muscular, fit body. But up close, it became obvious that he was, like Markum, in his fifties, with fine webworks of wrinkles just below his eyes and crow's feet on the outer corners. He stepped back, put his hands on his narrow hips, and stood there looking at the crucifix. He nodded abruptly, then disappeared through a door in the back wall.

  The crucifix stood on the floor leaning up against the wall. Markum went to it and said, "Look here."