Nightfall

  Robert shook his head in disbelief as he turned toward the station door. “Thanks for nothing,” he said as he walked out.

  CHAPTER 2

  When Ewen finally made his way outside to begin his long walk to his first class the sky hadn’t changed much. He couldn’t remember the last time it was sunny and warm. He wished he could. At least then he’d have something to think about beside the fact that he had no friends and no one to do anything with.

  Mountain Valley was a secluded small town where everyone still prayed before every meal—even at the local Hardee’s—and most of the trappings of modern society had yet to invade the sleepy space. About as high tech as they got in Mountain Valley was either the local cinema, which was currently playing several films from the 70’s, or The Snack Shack. The latter was more of a hang out for students who needed to get off of campus for a bit and breathe a little freedom. You could get old-fashioned malts and shakes with just about any flavor you could think of as well as what the town of Mountain Valley claimed were “the best grilled burgers this side of the Blue Ridge.”

  Ewen had visited The Snack Shack once last semester. The weather had just started to get warm, and the air had the typical Virginia mugginess hanging in it. When he entered he suddenly realized that of all the days to hit The Snack Shack that this one was probably the worst. Every seat was taken and he had to “take a walk” as he liked to call it; that meant he had to meander his way nervously through the crowd, desperately hoping there was a seat hidden somewhere so that he could keep everyone from staring at him. It didn’t matter how many classes he had with this guy or that girl, for some reason he didn’t make an impression on anyone so he was always gawked at in public. It was a constant feeling of “who’s the new kid” despite the fact that the “new kid” was already supposed to be done with the freshman blues.

  Of course, he never ended up finding a seat and by the time he had made his way back up to the front and to the door he no longer craved a malt, shake, or a famous burger. All he wanted by then was to get out of the building and get some fresh air. He poured himself out onto the sidewalk in front of the store, the sweat beads on his forehead threatening to roll at any moment. That was the day he first, honestly, wondered why God had sent him there.

  As he made his way across the street in front of his dorm building, his book bag slung over his left shoulder, he began to wonder that very thing again. He knew God was loving and just and he believed that He had a plan for his life, but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out what Mountain Valley University had to do with it. He had felt nothing but alone since he came here, which was the exact opposite of what he thought he would feel.

  He came from a strong religious background. His mother and father worked in the church and they attended every time the doors were open—which also meant that Ewen had attended every time the doors were open. A part of him resented that. He wasn’t fond of being told what to do, not even by those who loved him as much as his folks. He would always whine and complain about getting up so early or not being able to watch a television show he wanted to watch because it came on the same time church started on Wednesday night. Looking back over all of that he could see how silly and insignificant that really was, but it still didn’t change his mind about church. The funny thing was, he didn’t know how he really felt about church other than it was building filled with needy, imperfect people just like him; of that he was sure.

  He shook off his God thoughts for a moment, almost tripping over a crack in the concrete, and drew his focus to the clouds. He had never seen them quite so dark before. Since he had moved into the dorm clouds in the sky had pretty much become a staple in the forecast. But not like these. There seemed to be something more sinister to them. He laughed a little, in spite of himself, and thought, There I go again. It’s no wonder everyone here looks at me like I’m nuts. I might just be.

  Just then his dream came back to him. The sounds the creatures had made and the blood slowly drifting toward him. He shivered before descending down a long set of wooden stairs. He had never had a dream that had seemed so real before. Sure, he had dreamed of buying something or going somewhere and had woke up the next morning searching for what he had bought or telling his parents about his trip, convinced that he had actually been there. But there was something about this dream that was different. Usually he dreamt about places he had been recently, or had been concentrating on for quite some time. This dream had taken place in the local mall, a place he had only been to once and hadn’t been that impressed with. So why had he dreamt about it?

  He reached the end of the stairs and walked behind the Romero Building, a large dome-like structure where the university held their basketball games as well as concerts and Wednesday afternoon church services. It was quite an amazing and intimidating building from the front but as Ewen walked past it now, noticing the dumpsters and grease splotched parking spaces, it seemed quite unspectacular.

  He continued walking, knowing that in just a few short hours he would be inside of that building listening to another sermon among a sea of strangers. The university had a guest speaker most Wednesday’s who seemed to be less interested in teaching them about God and His Will for their lives and more interested in berating them for their secular ways and warning them of the deadly consequences of premarital sex. Thinking about it now, Ewen almost wanted to laugh. The way they always made it sound was that premarital sex was the worst sin you could commit, especially if you were just recently initiated into the realm of the sexually active. It reminded him of the scary stories his Dad would tell him when he was a little boy to keep him out of trouble only those stories had witches, ghosts and monsters in them instead of invisible urges and hormones. He still remembered most of them to this day; there was the one where the boy, who just so happened to look like Ewen, went to the grocery store and slipped a pack of gum into his back pocket when no one was looking. Years later that same boy was confronted by a goblin who had seen him steal the package of gum and had come to drag him underneath the bed to the land of lost toys. There was also a story about yet another boy who was caught smoking a cigarette by his Mother. That night, while serving his punishment locked in his bedroom, the Cancerman” flew in through his bedroom window and forcing him to smoke packs of cigarettes until he got sick.

  A smile slid across Ewen’s face as he thought about his Dad concocting those atrocious stories and how scared he had been by them at the time. There was certainly something to be said about scaring someone straight, but he just wasn’t convinced it was the best way, especially not from the pulpit. Of course, he was the first to admit he didn’t know the Bible through and through and maybe he wasn’t justified in his thinking. Sometimes he felt as though he was the only one that seemed to question anything at MVU, and from the lack of any crowd or friends walking beside him as he made his way up another set of steps toward the academic buildings, he thought that that could be the reason he was walking alone.

  He made his way through the academic buildings and entered one of the large classrooms; it looked more like a small auditorium. Students filled the stadium style seating as well as the air with incoherent chatter. Ewen made his way toward the top and found a seat at the back. He slid his book bag off of his shoulder and dug out a notebook and a pencil. He never used pens if he could help it. They seemed uncontrollable. A pencil, on the other hand, never once slipped out of his hand or made unwanted marks. This may have seemed a bit anal-retentive to others, but to him it was the difference between losing your writing utensil under someone’s chair in the middle of the lecture or notes that looked like scribbling.

  He stared straight ahead, trying not to notice the other students all around him as they talked with their friends. Every once and awhile he would look down at his notebook, trying to look as though he was busy studying instead of looking so out of place. As he was watching the blue lines of his notebook paper and realizing they weren’t as perfectly straight as he had thought, th
e professor, Mr. Foxcroft, walked into the room.

  Foxcroft was a balding man in his late forties with thin-rimmed glasses and a husky build. He was the kind of professor that looked like he took everything seriously, even drinking a can of soda. He was carrying an expensive looking briefcase which he firmly placed on top of a desk at the front of the room. A few combinations later he was digging through it and brought out a textbook and his laptop. He walked over to a podium that looked a tad too small for him and placed the laptop on it, adjusting the screen for the angle. Then he walked over to an extremely long chalkboard and picked up a piece of chalk as the crowd of students fell silent. Mr. Foxcroft’s strokes of chalk echoed throughout the room as bits of white dust sprinkled and floated out onto the carpet. Seconds later it appeared; Mr. Foxcroft had written, “The Path of God” on the blackboard. Students hurriedly began to write that in their notebooks as he spoke to them, gruffly.

  “Today I’d like to pose the question: ‘What exactly makes a person a Christian?’” he said, starting to look around the room.

  Trent Gordon was among the many that raised his hand. He had blonde hair, an athletic build and a cocky grin on his face as if entertaining his teammates or the ladies with what he felt was immense wit and wisdom. He was sitting just five rows down from Ewen next to a beautiful brunette and several beefy guys who were all wearing some form of Lacoste polo.

  Mr. Foxcroft pointed to Trent, white chalk stains on his forefinger. “Mr. Gordon?”

  Trent looked at his friends for a second, as if needing to make sure they were paying attention to him.

  “Believing in God and living your life according to His Word,” Trent said, his arrogance proceeding him.

  “That sounds scriptural, but what exactly do those words mean to you, Mr. Gordon?” Mr. Foxcroft asked.

  “I’d say keeping your mind pure and distancing yourself from the things of the world.”

  Ewen watched intently, eager to find out if the jock seemed to know as much as he thought he did.

  “Very good, Mr. Gordon.”

  Ewen stirred in his seat, something about their exchange not quite sitting well with him. Trent’s answer seemed a little vague to him, so much so in fact that a sudden surge of nervous energy pulsed through him and he raised his hand. The moment his hand reached into the air he could feel the eyes of those around him boring into him. Sweat beads formed at his temples and he even thought he heard someone whisper, “Who’s the new kid?”

  Mr. Foxcroft continued the lecture.

  “The people of today’s society find themselves wrapped up in most everything the world has to offer. Rock music, movies, drugs, and just about anything that turns them away from God.”

  Realizing that Mr. Foxcroft hadn’t noticed him he put his hand back down, embarrassed; after all, how long could one hold their hand in the air during a lecture while being ignored.

  “That’s why a school such as this one is such a great tool for God’s children. Here we can study the word of God without distractions and be educated in Literature, Math and Science from a Christian perspective.”

  Trent raised his hand again and Mr. Foxcroft immediately called on him.

  “Yes?”

  “But there are still some people who attend here that do some of those things. What would you say to them?” Trent said, looking a little less cocky this time around.

  “In my experience,” Mr. Foxcroft said, “those who still find security in the things of this world and attend this university don’t last too long. They find that they cannot walk that fine line between loving God and loving this world without exhausting themselves spiritually and mentally.”

  Ewen raised his hand again, feeling somehow pressed to say something. He knew he was risking embarrassment again but he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t say something.

  Mr. Foxcroft noticed him this time and pointed at him, raising his bushy eyebrows a little.

  “Yes? You in the back.”

  “How can we tell other people about God if we are so far removed from where they are? Wouldn’t that seem hypocritical?” Ewen asked, his voice shaking slightly from nervousness.

  “What do you mean?” Mr. Foxcroft said, looking intrigued by Ewen’s questions.

  Suddenly the majority of the class turned to Ewen, looking to see who had intrigued the professor. This made him even more nervous and when he spoke the next time he had some trouble getting his words out at first.

  “Well, if we make the world sound as if God never created it and we shouldn’t have anything to do with it then why would someone who doesn’t believe the same things we do even bother listening to us?” Ewen said, swallowing hard afterward as the student’s eyes seemed to burn into him.

  He sensed the mood changing in the classroom. He was sure he could almost hear their thoughts and criticisms about what he had just said. They obviously misunderstood his need for answers for some kind of malicious confusion.

  From the front of the room a deep and rich chuckle emanated. Some of the students turned back for a moment, noticing Mr. Foxcroft as he smiled and shook his head.

  “Well, of course God created it,” Foxcroft said, “It’s just a different world now than when He created it. The level of sin and temptation that is here is much more tantalizing to the weak of spirit.”

  Ewen knew he shouldn’t press the issue anymore, he could almost see the crowd pounding their fists threateningly into the palms of their open hands, but the same nervous energy that fueled him to raise his hand also coaxed him into continuing to speak up.

  “Adam and Eve sinned, and the level of sin in Sodom and Gomorrah had to be at least equal to what it is now if not exceeding it. Just because technology has changed doesn’t mean that sin has, necessarily.”

  Mr. Foxcroft dropped his smile, no longer amused and quite uncomfortable with the way the conversation was going.

  “It just seems to me,” Ewen continued “that God would want us to enjoy the world He created, not run away from it because it has sin in it. It’s not the world that creates temptation to sin, it’s imperfect people inside it.”

  “Well, I don’t see how you expect to reach people for Christ properly with that attitude,” Foxcroft muttered.

  For the first time since his attendance Ewen suddenly felt confident. Something washed over him and he immediately stopped shaking. All of his nervousness dissipated. He looked at the others, scanning their faces, and then back at Mr. Foxcroft.

  “To be honest, I don’t see why anyone would listen to someone if they were constantly condemning them and all that they do. ‘But who are you to judge your neighbor? James 4:12.’”

  Trent jumped into the conversation, turning the attention of the crowd to him once more.

  “So you’re saying if we all go out and drink, do drugs and be friends with prostitutes that’ll make us a better witness?” Trent said, looking up at Ewen.

  Ewen turned his attention to Trent as well, still quite confident.

  “No. I’m simply saying we shouldn’t judge people so harshly and be so simple minded,” Ewen said before adding,“Oh, and don’t forget that Jesus himself befriended prostitutes and beggars and transformed their lives.”

  Trent shrugged, turning back around in his seat to face Mr. Foxcroft.

  “I’m not saying to do drugs,” Ewen continued, his gaze still upon Trent. “But I’m saying in order to reach people who do, you’re going to have keep your personal beliefs in check and just be a messenger. The moment you start to judge them they will shut you down and then what good have you done?”

  “You have quite a lot to learn about religion,

  mister . . .” Foxcroft trailed off, waiting for an answer.

  “Wilson.” Ewen replied.

  “I can’t believe Dennis the Menace’s mean next door neighbor is giving us religious advice,” Trent said, shaking his head.

  The students in the crowd began to snicker and laugh. The feeling of nervousness and em
barrassment returned to Ewen as he sank back down in his seat.

  CHAPTER 3

  From any vantage point on campus you could look around and see mountaintops just off to the distance. The university was nestled within them and that had been what the chancellor of the, then proposed, school had wanted. His dream of building a place of higher education with a strong foundation in God’s Word was purposefully designed to be a refuge from the secular colleges of the nation. Therefore, when they had been led to Mountain Valley and had seen the small town, as well as its beautiful views from just about anywhere, it wasn’t a tough decision to go ahead and purchase the land needed for the university. The mountains had a way of making you look to the sky, something the chancellor had championed since the college’s inception. “It was like looking to God,” he had once said during the early stages of construction.

  As if the picturesque town hadn’t been enough, a small mountain overlooked the campus. Carver’s Mountain, named after one of the founder’s of the town centuries ago, towered over the university. Thick trees lined their way up and down the mountainside except for one small area near the very top. It was here that some of the students went when The Snack Shack had become stale or they had grown tired of walking the campus.

  The Point is what the students called it and it was the perfect place to get a view of the entire town, especially at night. About an hour before curfew a winding drive up the mountain would reveal dozens of cars parked along the side of the road. Campus security tried to keep their eye on the place, driving up there just before curfew to startle any procrastinators into getting back to campus before they got fined and were handed demerits. But there was little that could be done, in all honesty. There were certain rules issued in the university handbook that discussed how the students should behave and carry themselves when they went off of campus, but as long as they were abiding by the rules it wasn’t against them to be at The Point before curfew. Not to mention Carver’s Mountain was only a mile or two away from the university anyway.