Empty Is the Grave

by Candle Sutton

  ₪ ₪ ₪

  Zander’s breath came in quick bursts and his legs ached from all the hills and uneven surfaces. Still, he couldn’t slow down.

  Where was Josiah?

  He crested the small hill and looked down on McCloud’s Beach.

  His gaze locked on Josiah.

  Facing off with… a Marshal?

  No. If Josiah had made a stand, he wasn’t going against one of the good guys.

  Now that he looked closer, the US Marshal’s jacket sagged on the person’s trim frame.

  It had to be the woman. Who else would Josiah confront but the person who’d started all this chaos today?

  He pulled his gun and moved in.

  The woman’s head wagged side to side and she jerked her arm.

  Uh-oh. Agitation wasn’t a good thing, especially for a trapped woman with a gun.

  She extended her arm toward Josiah.

  No!

  At probably thirty feet away, he was too far to stop her.

  Except with a bullet.

  Zander took his stance and raised his own weapon. “Drop it now!”

  His words echoed across the open terrain, drawing the attention of the two Coasties hanging out by the tunnel entrance.

  The woman whipped her head, her gaze locking on him.

  A scowl twisted her lips.

  Josiah didn’t look at him, wasn’t even looking at the woman, but he was saying something. Not that Zander could hear the words.

  The woman flicked her attention to the Coasties, who were advancing, their own weapons at the ready.

  She was caught.

  She had to realize that.

  In spite of the distance, Zander saw her press her lips together and narrow her eyes. She spun back to face Josiah.

  “This is all your fault!” Her scream echoed off the rocks.

  And chilled Zander’s blood.

  He sighted on her.

  ₪ ₪ ₪

  Josiah stared at the gun swinging toward him.

  The people of this world feared these weapons of destruction.

  But not him. God held his life securely, no matter the outcome.

  Still, a queasiness churned in his gut. Time slowed.

  Several angelic warriors shot toward them, only to be assaulted by half a dozen lesser demons.

  Three more angels zoomed past, their swords extended toward the demon commander screaming at the woman.

  The woman, the poor lost soul who listened to the enemy, stared at him with hatred almost equal to the demon behind her.

  Zander steadied his gun and aimed at the woman.

  It was time to end this.

  Josiah looked the demon straight in its soulless eyes. “In the name of Jesus Christ, who rides the white horse and is called Faithful and True-”

  The demon’s face contorted and it thrashed its head like a wild stallion. “Make him stop! Shoot him! SHOOT HIM NOW!”

  ₪ ₪ ₪

  It was over.

  Oksana stared at the dreadlocked dude who wasn’t even looking at her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the two Coasties training their weapons on her.

  Failure hadn’t just been costly to her, it would cost her brother and her men their freedom, too.

  And why?

  Because this crazy man, who was still rambling on about Jesus and religious stuff, had stopped her.

  It was all his fault.

  Shoot! Him! Now! Now, now, now!

  The words echoed in her head.

  He did deserve to die.

  She pointed the gun at him.

  And pulled the trigger.

  ₪ ₪ ₪

  A deluge of gunshots splintered the air.

  The woman fell.

  As did Josiah.

  “NO!”

  Zander’s cry echoed as his feet propelled him forward. In his peripheral, he saw the Coasties racing toward the woman.

  Josiah lay crumpled on the rocks.

  Crimson oozed across the rocks beneath him. A matching stream trickled from the corner of his mouth.

  Zander crashed to his knees beside Josiah, his fingers going to Josiah’s neck.

  Erratic.

  Labored, wheezy breathing shook Josiah’s frame.

  His eyes traveled down to Josiah’s chest.

  Multiple entry wounds. Center mass.

  Blood pumped, the dark liquid flowing like water from a hose.

  Zander ripped off his jacket, wadded it up and pressed it against Josiah’s chest.

  It was horribly useless against the torrent.

  “Come on, man. You stay with me, you hear?”

  Josiah didn’t respond. His eyes stared straight up at the sky and his lips slowly curled into a small smile.

  A smile?

  Sticky warmth coated his hands. Zander looked down to find the jacket saturated, his hands sinking deeper into the mess.

  Movement flurried around him. He caught sight of Marshals and SWAT guys, but his gaze never strayed from Josiah for long.

  Josiah’s breathing shallowed. A slight gurgling sound escaped his parted lips.

  Everything went still.

  Zander’s fingers flew to Josiah’s neck, leaving bloody smears as he felt around.

  Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

  No! It wasn’t possible!

  He just couldn’t find the pulse! That was all. Josiah couldn’t die!

  “Look at me. Josiah! Look at me!”

  He sensed someone beside him, but he didn’t turn, didn’t look.

  Frankly, didn’t even care who it was.

  “Hey, kid.” Morgan’s hand landed on Zander’s shoulder. “It’s… he’s gone.”

  No! He wasn’t gone. Couldn’t be.

  God would protect him. After all, Josiah did so much good work for God. Who could do all the things Josiah did?

  It’d take ten men, at least, to do all that Josiah did. Surely God would spare him, right?

  Please, God. Bring him back!

  “Josiah!”

  Still no response.

  But he couldn’t – wouldn’t – give up on Josiah so easily.

  “Come on, Josiah! Think of Elly! Of your nephew. Or niece. You gotta be there, man.” His voice broke and his vision blurred.

  No matter the words, or the pleading, there was no response.

  Because deep down, he knew Morgan was right.

  Josiah was gone.

  ₪ ₪ ₪

  Pain shafted Elly’s heart, bringing her to her knees.

  Josiah.

  Tears flooded her eyes.

  He was dead. The gentle whisper inside her lovingly confirmed it.

  Somehow, she felt the loss in her heart. Like a part of her had died, while the rest of her lived on. It made no sense and yet, it was how she felt.

  Because Josiah, her brother, who knew and understood her better than almost anyone else, was not coming back.

  Why hadn’t God sent her? He could have used her to heal Josiah.

  Why? Why hadn’t God saved him?

  The tears rushed out, racking sobs that shook her body. She curled into a ball on the floor, washing the tile with salt water.

  Warmth surrounded her.

  The Father.

  Even though He hadn’t chosen to save Josiah, He was still with her.

  Comfort flooded her as an image filled her mind. Josiah, surrounded by light. Josiah, in the Father’s arms.

  Even if she’d been there, Josiah still would have left this world for the next.

  Because God didn’t need her to heal. God could have healed Josiah at any point, could have prevented him from dying, yet God, in His infinite and unfathomable wisdom, had chosen not to.

  She wiped the tears from her cheeks.

  Josiah wouldn’t be coming home.

  Not ever again.

  From the table, her cell phone rang.

  Pushing herself up, she staggered toward it.

  Zeke.

  She should’ve known.

 
; “Elly.” Grief deepened Zeke’s voice. “Josiah…”

  “I know.” Her own voice shook. “But Zeke, he’s with the Father.”

  She pressed the phone to her ear. Neither said a word, but she found solace in listening to his ragged breathing as he shared her sorrow.

  They’d lost a part of themselves today.

  Yes, they’d mourn. But once the mourning was past, they’d also rejoice.

  For Josiah was finally home.

  ₪ ₪ ₪

  Zander felt tattered, like a shark had clamped onto him, dragged him through miles of ocean, then vomited him onto shore.

  He didn’t know how long it had been since Morgan had forcibly removed him from Josiah’s side, led him to a boulder, and told him to sit, but it felt like hours had passed.

  In reality, it probably hadn’t even been twenty minutes.

  Morgan had finished securing the scene, using the SWAT guys and whoever else he could grab to assist in the process.

  Normally, he’d be right there with Morgan, but the fact that he’d been one of the people to fire at the shooter precluded him from being part of the investigation.

  That, and the fact that his brother-in-law was one of the victims.

  He couldn’t stop looking at Josiah.

  Part of him expected Josiah to suddenly sit up. God could raise the dead, after all. He’d done it multiple times throughout history. Why not Josiah?

  Yet for all his wanting, and praying, Josiah didn’t move.

  The grief threatened to crush him.

  And he still had to tell Elly.

  How could he tell her something like this?

  He’d broken this sort of news to countless people over the years. It was never easy, but having been on the receiving end of that arrangement himself when his brother died, he knew how it felt. But this… he was playing both roles here. The messenger and the recipient.

  To compound the matter, he’d have to break the news to the most important person in his life.

  God, I can’t do this.

  Yet, at the same time, he couldn’t not do it.

  Elly would hear the truth from someone. He’d rather it came from him, not someone who didn’t know or care about Josiah.

  Rafe’s face flashed into his mind.

  Dang. This was gonna hit him hard, too. He knew Josiah had become an important part of Rafe’s life. In fact, he’d kinda hoped Josiah would be the one to lead Rafe to Jesus. Would this push Rafe even further from God?

  He couldn’t think about that right now.

  Couldn’t think about much of anything, or he’d drown in the despair of it all.

  He looked down at his hands, stained red from the blood he’d tried so hard to stem.

  He’d failed. When he saw that gun, he should’ve shot the woman immediately, not tried to talk her down. If he had, Josiah might still be alive.

  Yet he had a feeling Josiah would have approved of his actions.

  Josiah would never have applauded taking a life, especially not to save his own.

  So why did it still feel like he’d made the wrong decision?

  Morgan approached slowly, hands deep in his pockets. “C’mon kid. Let’s get outta here.”

  No. He whipped his head side-to-side. “I’m staying with Josiah.”

  “Techs are on the way, but we both know they’ll be processing the scene for hours. There’s nothing more you can do here. You know that.”

  Yeah, he knew it. Didn’t mean he liked it.

  “Zander.” A deep sigh leaked from Morgan. “It’s a big loss. Staying here isn’t going to help you. Go home to Elly. Work through this with her.”

  His throat burned as if he’d swallowed fire.

  Morgan was right.

  Elly needed him more than Josiah did.

  Pushing off the rock, he fell into step beside Morgan who, thankfully, didn’t feel the need to fill the silence.

  The dock came into view and with it, the boats. Where Rafe waited.

  Before he dealt with Elly, he’d have to figure out how to tell Rafe.

  As Zander approached the boat, Rafe rose. Well, as much as he could while shackled to the boat, anyway.

  Rafe’s gaze traveled down Zander, absorbing the sight of all the blood, no doubt.

  As if in slow motion, his head started to wag, gaining momentum. “No. Jo-Josiah?”

  Fresh tears blurred Zander’s vision. His throat closed off, preventing him from answering a question to which Rafe already knew the answer.

  On the boat, he dropped to his knees beside Rafe and clung to him like a lifeline.

  “What happened?”

  He rocked back at looked at Rafe, the brother he’d missed more than he’d ever admit out loud.

  Words wouldn’t come. He struggled to put the horror of the last half hour into something that made any sense.

  Morgan saved him from it.

  “That stupid little…” Morgan’s gaze flicked to the two teens who sat like statues, watching the exchange. “Woman shot him.”

  Shot him for no reason.

  It was all so pointless.

  Zander dropped onto the bench beside Rafe and embraced the fog that settled over his mind. Maybe it’d numb him to the pain.

  In the old days, he would’ve turned to a good bottle of tequila to numb him, but he’d promised himself those days were done. He’d promised Elly.

  More than all that though, he’d promised God.

  Still, it sure sounded good on a day like today.

  “I’m sorry about your friend.” The pink-haired girl’s voice wobbled. Wet trails streaked her cheeks, flowing from puffy eyes that looked like they’d shed a lot of tears the last twenty-four hours. “I didn’t really know him, but he seemed like a nice guy.”

  As much as he wished she would shut up, he offered a tight nod.

  “He really made me feel better through all this.”

  He’d never understand why girls felt the need to ramble. Couldn’t she see she was making things worse?

  “And he really believed in what he said. He was just telling us, earlier, before he left, um that God had him. That he wasn’t afraid of dying.” She hiccupped. “Do you think he still felt that way after, um, when he…”

  When he was bleeding out on the rocks?

  Zander swallowed hard.

  Yeah, all of that definitely sounded like stuff Josiah would say.

  He didn’t want to talk about Josiah. In fact, he wanted nothing more than to withdraw into himself and shut down.

  Yet he knew what Josiah would tell him, if he were still here.

  This was an opportunity to point people to God.

  The girl was clearly curious, maybe even searching. And Rafe? Well, who knew how far Josiah had gotten with Rafe, but he had no doubt Josiah had preached to him often and at great length.

  Didn’t he have an obligation to pick up where Josiah had left off?

  “I know he did.” Zander swallowed hard, trying to get moisture back into his dry throat. “I was beside him when he…”

  Words failed.

  He couldn’t bring himself to say died. Yes, Josiah had died, no question. But saying it out loud was an entirely different matter altogether.

  “You should’ve seen his face.” Zander’s pulse spiked and his breathing quickened, making it hard to get the words out. “He was smiling. I don’t think he felt any pain. And I think maybe he even saw God.”

  In fact, the more he thought about it, the surer he became.

  Even in death, Josiah had displayed a peace that defied the circumstances.

  “The grave is empty.” Rafe’s voice came from beside him.

  What was he talking about? Zander swiveled his head to look at his old friend.

  A small smile curled the edges of his lips, a sharp contrast to the moisture still lurking in Rafe’s dark eyes. There was sadness yes, but… how the heck could Rafe have more peace about this than he did?

  “What did you say?”

 
“The grave is empty. Josiah was tellin’ us that earlier today and I dunno, guess it stuck.”

  It didn’t make any sense. “Are you saying Josiah’s not dead?”

  Rafe’s smile slipped. “I wish. But I’m guessin’ you know a dead body when you see one.”

  Unfortunately.

  “But Josiah was sayin’ that death just gets us to Jesus.” Rafe sighed. “I mean, the grave’s empty in lotsa ways, right? Jesus’ grave is empty ‘cause He rose again. But it’s also empty for us, right? Cause we believe in Jesus so our souls go to Him. The grave’s got no power.”

  The words rushed out of Rafe with a passion and understanding that stole Zander’s thoughts.

  Except for one thing. Rafe had used the word we.

  The use of the inclusive pronoun shouted at him.

  That, and the depth of spiritual knowledge Rafe displayed.

  Where had this guy come from?

  Rafe must’ve seen the confusion on his face because he grinned. “Josiah’s been teaching me a lot, homes. Since I gave my life to Jesus ‘bout two months ago.”

  Zander’s eyes slid closed.

  Rafe was a believer. How long had he and Elly been praying for that? At least since Rafe’s incarceration last year.

  This was the one bright spot in an otherwise horrific day.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I hadn’t seen you–” Rafe held up his fingers even as a protest rose to Zander’s lips. “My fault, I gotcha. Then earlier, well, there was so much goin’ on and the time didn’t seem right, ya know? But now, with Josiah and all…”

  “There’s never been a better time.”

  The boat rocked as Morgan stepped back on board. Zander honestly hadn’t seen him leave. “All prisoners are accounted for.”

  “How many died?” Rafe’s voice sounded slightly hoarse.

  “Fifteen. Three more are wounded.” Morgan’s expression soured. “Guards weren’t so lucky. Only Rush and Cortez are walking away.”

  Zander swallowed back bile. A lot of good men had lost their lives today simply doing their job.

  It could’ve been him. Any one of them.

  Yet God had spared them.

  Why not Josiah?

  He’d probably never know.

  “The Marshals and Coast Guard are transporting the inmates and smugglers back to the city. Rafe, I gotta move you to the other boat.” Morgan’s gaze zeroed in on the two kids. “Then we’re taking you both home.”