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Impaired Judgments (Part 3)

by Chris Alexion, Copyright February 16, 2006, all rights reserved. 408 views

The group again gathered around the screen as Anne pointed to a web site. "Crescent Oil is a strong Muslim company with a known antipathy toward Christians and possible links to Disney World." Anne's voice began to crack. "And–and a daughter company exports exotic plants."

Everyone was silent as the horrible truth went home. They had unwittingly supported the enemies of the Gospel, abetted Disney World, and put money in the pockets of Muslim sultans. For several minutes only the ticking of the wall clock was audible in the office. Then, as if cued by the clock, Forge began to stir from his thoughts, jerked out his cell phone, and checked the time. "Wait–you said you dealt with Crescent last week. Were you expecting another delivery? We've got to stop it before something else happens!"

Garcia rushed to his desk and flipped open his calendar. "My soul! Today is the delivery! But it's going to my other franchise across town."

"What time?" cut in Stevia.

"One-thirty. That's ten minutes!" The group ran for the parking lot. Garcia waved to the left. "My van!" They piled in, depositing Stevia unceremoniously on the floor in the back, and peeled rubber out of the parking lot.

Anne glanced at her watch. "Can we make it?"

Garcia cocked his head to the side. "Hard to say. My other station's miles away. We're in bad traffic, too." Garcia was not exaggerating. As he spoke he wrenched the steering wheel right and cut across two lanes. A volley of protesting horns let them know what the drivers behind them thought of being cut off. Garcia guided the van toward the freeway ramp. "If we take the overpass we may shave a few minutes!" he shouted over the road noise. He gunned the vehicle down the ramp and onto the overpass, merging quickly with traffic. Garcia weaved in and out of the other cars on the freeway eating up yards and miles as he raced toward the other side of town.

"There's your exit!" Forge's warning caused Tony to cut the wheel hard right, narrowly missing a tractor-trailer. Garcia braked sharply into the exit ramp's clover-leaf turns, then shot out onto Fifth Avenue.

"We're now two blocks away!" Garcia said. In the back of the van, Thomas checked his watch. The delivery would occur any minute. They had to stop it now, or risk incurring even more judgments. The light was yellow as Garcia skidded through an intersection and came within sight of the gas station. Using the bench in front of him, Thomas pulled himself up to get a good look. He gasped. The Crescent oil tanker, a few hundred yards away, was rattling toward the gas station.

Garcia gunned the van forward until he was in a direct line with the tanker. He had to stop that delivery. He pulled closer and closer, scaring off pedestrians with his horn. Then suddenly he froze. Whether the size of the tanker intimidated him or whether it was something in the face of the turbaned driver that caused his reaction was later debated. What was certain was that he had drifted closer and closer to the tanker until Anne had reached over from the passenger seat and yanked the wheel right.

An instant later the tanker's driver pulled a lever in his cab and the truck erupted into a sheet of flame. Deathly silence reigned for just a split second before the explosion's roar and concussion wave swept outward, shattering the van's windows and forcing it into a skid. The vehicle twisted and came to a stop against a pole. With ringing ears, the little group surveyed the flame-licked remains of the tanker littering the highway. The explosion had ignited several pumps, sending fiery jets into the sky.

Thomas Stevia and his friends stared silently for a minute at the destruction. Then the van's overhead light bulb fell on Garcia's head.
"Ouch," he said. "You know, guys, I really don't feel that I've lost in all this." The group simply stared. "Listen. Now I know about the Muslim terrorists, so I can prevent future judgments. And I lost one gas station, but I still have the other one. You guys should be fine, too. Once your injuries heal, you can get back to your lives a little wiser." He turned to Anne. "And maybe your musical ministry isn't shot after all. I'd really love to hear you play." The others murmured their agreement.

For the first time since they'd met, Anne smiled. "All right," she said. "But let's grab some coffee first. I know a great Christian cafe near here."

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