by Chris Alexion, Copyright February 14, 2006, all rights reserved. 265 views
Thomas Stevia looked up from his spot on the asphalt of Highway 21. Several yards away lay his car, parked gracefully against a telephone pole by the side of the road. The hood had been folded up like a closet door, and the driver's side window was shattered by his violent ejection from the vehicle. He tried to sit up, but fell back as pain immobilized his right leg.
He lay back and pondered this accident as he listened to the wailing sirens of the approaching ambulances. Here he was, thrown from a totaled car and escaped with only a broken leg. Clearly he had been spared for a reason. God was warning him. What he needed to do now was to figure out what he'd done to cause this wreck–before something worse were to happen.
Stevia reviewed the day's events on the trip to the emergency room. He had awakened at his usual time, brushed his teeth, and gone through his usual routine before eating breakfast. He frowned. Nothing wrong so far. What was it? He carefully went over the make, model, and parts of his car, wondering whether they could have been associated with sinful activities, but with no result. His car had been made by a Christian company with Christian employees and even Christian parts–whatever that meant.
Stevia's thoughts troubled him long after his leg had been set. As he mulled over what he could have done to remove himself from God's perfect will, he was interrupted by the arrival of the nurse and another patient. "I've got a roommate for you. We're keeping him for tests like you since he was in a wreck."
Thomas surveyed the newcomer with growing respect. His customary search for marks of Christianity had turned up a WWJD bracelet, a cross necklace (but a wooden kind, not gold), and a T-shirt sporting a quote from the Book of Revelation. A few minutes' conversation revealed some striking coincidences: Wilbur Forge–that was the newcomer's name–was also puzzling what he had done to bring God's chastening upon his quickly swelling arm and shoulder.
Thomas shook his head. "Something's not right. We're either under chastening, or we've removed ourselves from the umbrella of protection, letting Satan bring to pass his disastrous plans for us."
"That much is clear," answered Forge. "We've got–" He was cut off mid-sentence as the room's television tottered on the edge of its cabinet, leaning precariously down toward Stevia. Forge lunged forward, pushing Thomas' wheelchair out of the path of the falling unit. The TV struck the linoleum floor a split-second later, shattering into a multitude of iridescent slivers where the wheelchair had just stood. Thomas swallowed hard. "We've got to find the answer," he finished.
* * *
Thomas slowly shook himself awake. He'd been dreaming that he was walking down a beach, looking at two sets of footprints, but a voice kept breaking in that didn't fit. Every time he reached down to feel the soft impressions in the sand, he felt a pressure on his arm and heard a strange voice utter, "Wake up, Thomas."
"Is that you, Lord, calling me out of complacency?" Thomas answered, but each time the voice came back simply, "Wake up, Thomas." Thomas rubbed his eyes and stared at the deep blue of the ocean, then blinked as the seascape was slowly transformed into the blue of his hospital blanket.
"Wake up, Thomas," said Forge again.
"I'm up; I'm up. What in blazes is it?"
"Uh, I was just thinking," continued Wilbur, "that if we really are under some kind of judgment, maybe it'd be safer not to stay here. We could get on the move and track down whatever it is that took us out of God's perfect will."
Stevia rubbed his eyes again and let this new logic run over his aching brain. It made sense, after all. If God was chastening them, or, worse, if Satan was out to pull a hit, there was no time to be wasted. "Get me into my wheelchair."
It took some ten minutes for the man with the broken arm to help the man with the broken leg into the chair, but when this was safely accomplished, the pair moved silently to the door. Forge stuck his head out. Their wing of the hospital was relatively quiet, and the corridor he now stared out into was lit only by a few side panel lights. Forge pushed the wheelchair out and padded down the hall. Wilbur had a decent memory, and he quickly guided his friend to the nearest elevator bank.
The doors opened and closed, and Stevia hit the lobby button with his outstretched foot. The elevator began its descent, but before it hit the lobby, a grotesque figure swung down from the top of the car directly in front of his face. Stevia opened his mouth to scream, but the sound wouldn't come. Briefly, the demonic figures from low-budget Carman music videos flashed before his eyes. Then the mop hit the elevator floor.
Thomas blinked. The hellish, dreadlocked head he'd seen was the end of an industrial janitor's mop. His eyes darted to the top, where a woman's sheepish face looked down on them. "Sorry," she said simply. "I thought you were security." The woman was middle-aged, with light blonde hair tinted gray at the temples. Her face bore a kind of refined tranquillity offset by wide eyes that looked like they were trying to see through everything.
The woman hopped lightly down from the trap door that had previously concealed her. Her wide eyes calmed slightly as they took in Wilbur's T-shirt. "You're a Christian." It was more of an observation than a question.
"Yes. I'm Wilbur Forge, and this is Tom Stevia. We're breaking out of the hospital in order to find out what's gone wrong with our Christian walk, why we ended up here. Let's get behind that sofa." These last words were spoken as the elevator doors opened into the hospital lobby. The trio moved as quickly as possible behind the screen of furniture to conceal themselves from passers-by.
"I'm Anne Drew," the woman introduced herself. "I'm a Christian, too. In fact, I'm a Christian musician." Her head slumped slightly. "Well, I used to be. I was breaking out of here in order to tell my story to the world. I hid in a janitorial closet before running to the elevator, and I thought the mop might come in handy. When I saw you two get into the elevator, I didn't know what to do."
For the first time since his demonic scare, Thomas spoke. "Please share your testimony with us," he said.
To be continued…
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