To: God c/o Scribe
cc Book of Records, last entry
Supreme Being: A quick note to let the record show that I relieved you prior to the face-to-face encounter with our subjects. In hindsight, perhaps the meeting was a bit too early based upon the collateral preparations yet outstanding. However, I am obliged to say that I rather enjoyed it although I am presently feeling a tinge of guilt for being so blunt with them. I am open to any advice you may wish to impart. Host
To: Host. Do not second guess your actions. God, cc etc etc.
To: Host. You’re doing well for the most part. Just saying. Gabriel no c/c
Abe reached the mission first. The lights were still on and the front door was unlocked but he didn’t want to go in by himself. “Hurry up,” he called, waving both arms and nervously dancing from foot to foot as he waited for his backup to get there.
“I’m doin’ the best I can,” Shorty called back between breaths. “Me old legs won’t move any faster.”
Hearing Abe’s voice, Horace picked up the pace and ran up to Abe, sat down at his feet and ‘woofed’. A moment later, Shorty caught up panting for air. He took a deep breath. “Is he in there?” he asked, blowing the air back out.
“I didn’t see him,” Abe said, pushing the door open. “But he’s got to be here.”
Two hours had passed since dinnertime, but by the sound of it Brother Elkins was still hard at work. The soprano pitch of his voice carried a sense of utter frustration as it echoed out into the dining hall. “That is not the way I showed you, Brother Kippler. Hold this mop and give me that pad.”
“He’s back there.” Abe pointed to the swinging door behind Elkins’ pulpit, the door where Elkins had made his escape earlier. He grabbed McDougal’s arm and dragged him along. “Brother Elkins!” he shouted as he and Shorty and Horace barged into the room.
Elkins was attacking some boiled-over food on the kitchen range with a vengeance. Bits and pieces of food scattered off the stovetop as his elbow reciprocated across the range like a mechanical device had been unleashed on it. He didn’t answer. Brother Kippler, a gray-haired man with no teeth, stood to one side with his hands capped over the end of a mop handle. His chin nearly touched the tip of his nose as he rested it on top of his hands. His hollow eyes drooped to the half-closed position. “Brother Elkins!” Abe shouted again.
Elkins looked over his shoulder. Perspiration flowed from his forehead and streamed down his rounded, pink cheeks. “Just a minute!” he said in a loud, irritated voice. He turned to Brother Kippler, delicately raised his head, lifted a hand off the mop handle and dropped the scouring pad into it. “That, Brother Kippler, is the last time I’ll show you how to clean the stove.”
Unable to contain his excitement any longer, Abe shouted again, “Brother Elkins, we just saw the Lord!”
“What?” Elkins said as he took the mop away from Kippler. He spied Horace and started pounding the air with his free hand. “Get—that—dog—out—of—my—kitchen!” he screamed, stressing each word.
Horace tucked his tail between his hind legs and pushed himself through the swinging door.
Having dealt with the dog, Elkins turned his attention to the two men. “You’re too late to get a bed,” he said sourly. “So, get out and close the door behind you.”
Abe rapidly shook his head from side to side. “The Lord’s out there and we need your help.”
Elkins looked over the top of his glasses at them and studied their faces for a second. “All right, all right,” he said, sliding his glasses back up on the bridge of his nose. “But no matter what you say, you’re not sleeping here tonight.”
“It’s not about a bed,” Abe spurted, and turned to get McDougal’s support. The Irishman’s mouth was opening and closing but nothing was coming out of it, so he turned back to the preacher. “We just seen the Lord! We actually saw Him! Right out there in the alley!” Elkins batted his eyes. “We were there and He came out of the wall in a great, beautiful light!”
The preacher rubbed a hand over his brow and wiped the sweat off on a pant leg. He pursed his lips and gave the concoction a moment’s thought. “Let me get this straight. You saw the light?”
Abe nodded quickly. “It was just like you said, Brother Elkins. It was a relavation.”
“Revelation, Brother, revelation,” Elkins corrected him and added a thin smile that said he understood the situation. “You mean that through my words of the Gospel, you have seen the light? Is that about right?”
McDougal finally found his voice and broke into the conversation. “Yer not understandin’ what he’s tellin’ ya, man. We actually saw the Light of the Lord. It was big and it was like bein’ in front of a train engine with nowhere to run.”
“Not only that. We talked to Him, too,” Abe added.
Elkins smirked. “You talked to Him?”
“Yes, Sir,” Abe said. “We were sitting there discussing the events of the day, and He came and talked to the three of us."
“The three of you?” He let out a little chuckle and shook his head. “Okay, okay,” he said, throwing his arms into the air. “Wait right here and I’ll go see if I can find room for you to sleep it off.”
“But…but…” Abe started shaking his head again, but Elkins had already returned his attention to the old man who was slowly moving the scouring pad down the side of the stove. “Good grief!” Elkins cried as he trotted the few steps over to the tired Brother Kippler.
McDougal squeezed Abe’s arm. “I’m tellin’ ya, man, were needin’ a priest,” he said with a little jerk of his head in Elkins’ direction. “It’s fer certain he’s never seen what we saw.”
Abe was noticeably crushed by Elkins’ attitude. “He doesn’t believe us. He just don’t understand.”
McDougal turned them both around. “There’ll be another time fer his enlightenment, Mr. Douglas. Let’s be getting’ outta here.”
Abe stopped just before they exited the Mission. “I wonder if anyone will listen to us?” he asked. The disappointment was clear.
“If yer askin’ me.” Shorty looked him directly in the eyes. “I can’t think of a soul who’d give us the time of day , much less believe us.”
A look of complete puzzlement shone in Abe’s face. “Well, why would He take time out of His busy schedule to come down here and talk to us if no one’s going to listen when we tell them about it?”
Shorty shrugged and gave it some thought. “I suppose it’s possible that He didn’t mean fer us to tell anyone in the first place,” he said. “Do ya think that’s possible?”
Horace, who had been waiting patiently at the entry foyer, whimpered a ‘hello’ that went unnoticed in the deep discussion.
“I don’t know,” Abe said, scratching his head. “Maybe He did want us to keep it ourselves. Maybe we should find a place to sleep and think on it some more.”
Shorty waved a hand in front of Abe’s face. “Are ya fergettin’ that He told us to clean up a bit?”
Abe leaned against the door casing, his shoulders slouching with the heavy burden the Lord had placed on them. “Why me, Lord?” he asked, looking skyward. “Why us? I’ve never even read the bible.” He lowered his gaze to Shorty. “Have you?”
The Irishman grimaced like he had just tasted a lemon for the first time. “Not the whole thing,” he admitted, shaking his head.
“Well, what part did you read?”
“If yer wantin’ to know the exact part, I don’t recall. But I was practically raised in the church, and I can tell ya the parts I heard about weren’t all that good. There was eyes bein’ poked out and cities blasted to smithereens and people bein’ turned into salt and…”
Abe slapped a hand over Shorty’s mouth. “I don’t want to hear anymore. Lordy, lordy, how did we get into this mess?”
McDougal muffled something through Abe’s fingers.
“What?” Abe asked, then to
ok his hand away.
“I said, don’t ya think we oughta be findin’ a place to clean ourselves up? I wouldn’t want Him comin’ back here and findin’ us in the same condition we was in when He left.”
Horace ‘woofed’ another hello. This time Abe acknowledged him. “You’re in this, too,” he said to the dog. “Do you think you could find the Salvation Army for us?”
Mc Dougal answered for the old dog. “I’m thinkin’ they’ll be closed this time of night.”
“I know how we can get in.”
Shorty shook his head at the idea. “Oh, I couldn’t be doin’ somethin’ like that to the Salvation Army,” he stated, bringing a look of bewilderment to Abe’s face. “Don’t ya think it’d be better if we went there tomorrow and bought the clothes.”
“We’re not going there for clothes. Didn’t I tell you they’ve got a sleeping room?”
Shorty let out a sigh of relief. “No, Mr. Douglas, ya didn’t tell me that. But if they do, let’s be findin’ it.”
With the Salvation Army’s ‘Home for Wayward Souls’ as their destination, the three unlikely apostles began their five-block trek to the other side of the railroad tracks. From their forthright movements it was evident that their sobering experience with the Lord had cleared away a good deal of the cobwebs from their habitually fuzzy minds. Even the old dog padded along beside them in a much straighter manner than was his normal lopsided gait.
At the corner of First Street and the two-lane highway Horace started across the intersection, a course that would have taken them to the city park and his bed under the bandstand. Abe stopped him. “We went this way, Horace,” he said, pointing to his right. The Guthrie Building and the alley were that way.
McDougal exaggerated a shudder. “Yer not thinkin’ of goin’ back through the alley, are ya?”
“No,” Abe answered positively. “I’m just trying to get my bearings straight. We came out of the alley and walked a couple, two or three blocks up the street. We went by a feed store. They had baby chickens for sale. I remember that. And we passed a bowling alley, but it was boarded up. That’s where we turned.”
“But ya can’t recall where the Salvation Army was?” Shorty asked in an anxious tone.
Abe disregarded the little dig and continued to jog his memory. “Then, there was the men’s store where the preacher was buying a suit. It was his church that was on fire. Did I tell you that?” McDougal nodded a yes, and Abe picked up the account again. “And there was this big woman with flowers in her hair, or were they in a hat…”
“Would ya just get on with it, man?” Shorty interrupted.
Abe made up his mind. “Yep, the flowers were in her hat. And the preacher drove up the street and we went the same way.” He finished his train of thought and looked down at the nervous Irishman. “I know where it is, now. Let’s go.”
“Can we at least be crossin’ over to the other side of the street?” McDougal pleaded, not wanting to go anywhere near the alley.
Abe agreed and they took a diagonal approach to the street which kept them clear of the alley but put them on course if Abe’s memory served him correctly.
Horace hesitated at the street curb until he was sure the men were not going to the park then he loped up beside them and fell into stride.
They stopped for a quick rest near Farenstien’s store. “Let’s not tell anyone about the Lord when we get there,” Abe suggested.
Shorty put his bedroll and belongings kit on the sidewalk and sat on them. “Are we getting’ close to bein’ there?” he asked between gulps of air. The strain of the long and strenuous evening was catching up with him.
“One more block, I think,” Abe answered. “We’re not going to tell anyone, right?”
McDougal took in a long breath. “I’ll not breathe a word of it,” he promised.
“At least not ‘til tomorrow,” Abe added. “You ready?” McDougal picked himself and his belongings up.
“Come on, Horace,” Abe called.