Rescue 12 Responding, page 16
David stood on the porch as he watched the officers drive away. Quickly, he walked into his bedroom and stretched to reach the box on top of the shelf in his closet. Slowly, he unwrapped his own 9mm Glock, realizing he owned this type of pistol for the same reason his attacker did. They were so reliable and easy to use. Looking down at his pillow, he thought, "and so lethal." He held it up and fixed the sight on a flower arrangement in his bathroom. A grimace crossed his face as he slowly lowered the gun.
Jan returned from Tiffany’s room and gently sat down on the bed and picked up the bullet clip. It was also wrapped in a soft yellow cloth. "Maybe, the kids are old enough now that we can keep the clip in the gun and keep it immediately available?" She spoke these words in fear. Her suggestion brought David away from his vengeful thoughts.
"Do you really want to?" David anxiously asked. He knew that most honest people and their children were shot with their own guns, far more often than by an attacker's gun. He had seen too many children killed by accidently playing with what they thought of as off limit toys. He repeated the question. This time the tone in his voice was not that of the fear of a returning intruder but the fear of continuous Danger from a loaded gun, "Is it worth the risk?”
Jan considered the tone in David's voice. She had heard him talk of what she knew was only a few of his calls involving gunshot injuries to children, "No, no. We will leave it up there," she said as she pointed to the closet shelf. "But, for a while, leave the clip in it. I'll call Monday about a Security System, though. I'm here too often alone, while you are at the station."
David nodded in agreement and then put the clip in the chamber of his 9mm semi-automatic pistol, "Tonight, we will sleep with it in reach."
Jan looked around her bedroom. The damage to their sense of security was far greater than the ruined pillow and bed. “At least, that was all that was lost.” She rubbed her hand against David's pillow. "He would have killed you if you were in bed." She paused and looked at David, "Where were you? Why weren't you in bed?"
David placed his arm around his wife's shoulder. "I was up, thinking. You know, I started to tell you this afternoon about what is going on inside me. I wanted to tell you. You know I really love you and..." At that word, Jan reached over and hugged her husband. David continued. "I was up thinking about God.” He paused, “About Evil and about the evil that makes men do evil things. I had gone to bed when you did, but I couldn't sleep. Something inside me kept drawing me to the living room, to think about these things." David stopped and took a deep breath, it felt good to be honest with his wife. “I can't believe that if I had stayed in bed, I would be dead. David suddenly noticed his daughter standing at the doorway and spoke to her gently, "Hey Tiff, you need to go back to bed.”
Jan squeezed his hand for a moment. "I will stay with Tiff until she sleeps then I will come right back. Go back to the sofa and rest. This time, just do your thinking while you’re within reach of your gun. We will be fine."
Wide-eyed, Tiffany was staring around the damaged bedroom while listening to her parents. She quickly took her mother's hand and wondered if maybe in the morning she’ll wake up, and this will have been just another bad dream. She was glad that mommy was going to sleep with her. She kissed her daddy and slowly returned to her room.
David returned to the living room and lay on the sofa. He stared up at the ceiling. Darkness, light, darkness light; the light from the lamp caused the ceiling fan to project five long shadows across the ceiling and wall which prompted his thoughts of light and darkness, good and evil. He rested in the freedom of thought and then he remembered a chapter in the book of Psalms he had read just before the attack. That writer had been sure that God would deliver His people. David picked up the Bible on the end table and flipped through the pages until it landed on the 91st chapter of Psalms. He read it again, and this time he was amazed at how these words so perfectly reflected what he had just experienced. He thought he should do as the David of the Bible would have done; he would thank his God with the knowledge that his God had protected him.
David sat up and bowed his head forward and clasped his hands together. He spoke out loud, "O God, you protected my family. Thank you, thank you!" David's eyes filled with tears again. He smiled at the thought that he had cried more in the last few days than he had in his entire life, then he whispered again, "Thank you." David looked up to see Jan standing in the hallway, looking at him. He rubbed his face and grinned at her.
Jan walked into this now holy room, speaking in a whisper, like she had done as a child, when she was in church. "David, what has happened to you? I have never heard you pray before. I didn't think you knew how." She came and sat beside him.
David took her hand. He looked at her; thanksgiving covered him like a warm blanket. He knew Jan would be pleased. He would share with her what he had discovered. He laughed in advance. David shared it all. He shared his heart.
Jan sat on the sofa and watched David as he spoke, never so amazed in her life. She listened. She began to remember. "David, I never told you this before. It never seemed important. But, when I was a little girl, my mom and dad went to church, but they got too busy with work. They got too busy, and I guess they thought it really didn't matter, because they always were morally good anyway. But, they never seemed as happy after we stopped going, like something was missing. David, when I was a little girl, when I was in a Sunday School, I asked Jesus in my heart, too. I just forgot about it when I grew up. But, deep inside me, I always remember. Kind of like a whisper you hear, coming from a far-off place, always calling me back, reminding me. David, I would like to have that voice as more than just a far-off whisper, more of a close friend. That is what they told me was available, something you have found, something I know is for me."
David was shocked. Were all those around him aware of God, yet unwilling to talk about it, unless they are pressed into it? David remembered his prayer that he had prayed with Terri in the back of his ambulance. If a teenager, nearly dead on cocaine, could introduce him to God, then surely, he could pray with his wife. It seemed logical. He smiled as the thought that nothing seemed logical to him anymore floated through his mind. He liked it better this way. David squeezed Jan's hand. "Well, let's do it together. Repeat after me: Dear God: ... I am sorry that I chose to forget about you... Please forgive me... Please be the Lord of all my life... of all my decisions ... Amen."
David added, "P.S. Thank you for protecting my family. Amen."
..... Another battle was won in the kingdom of Light.
Death left this house. He reeled in the knowledge of the significance of this loss. Failure produced the vomit of disgust in his mouth. How did his loss of another attempted murder end in the rededication of one of the Good One's lost children back to Him? Death went to find the human captive of Anger. He would die painfully. The intruder would die for his failure.
A few hours later, Matthew came into the living room to find his mommy and daddy sleeping on the sofa. He went over to his father and pulled his daddy's eyes open. "Daddy, is breakfast ready? I am hungry!"
David pushed his son's hand away from his face and eyes, "Matthew, it's not ready quite yet. Could you go back to bed for a minute, until it’s ready?"
Matthew recognized that trick. "NO, I am hungry. I want to eat now."
David knew he might as well get up, before his son woke up the whole house. David slid out from under Jan. She rolled onto her side and remained asleep. David looked at his watch, 6:00 a.m. He rubbed the blonde hair of his little boy, "Matthew, what would you like for your breakfast?"
"Fruit Loops."
David was thrilled with this simple request. Breakfast cereal was poured, and David leaned against the chair as the coffee began to brew. David hadn't told Jan everything. He didn't mention that he was sure that this wasn't some 'kid looking for drug money.' He knew it was someone trying to kill him. But, he couldn't figure out why. Before Jan awoke, he called his friend. David thought that Jonathan might be in danger.
“Jon, you won’t believe what happened last night. Some kid broke into the house and tried to shoot me while I was sleeping.”
“What, are you kidding?”
“It was weird. You need to be careful. This wasn’t a simple break-in.” David continued with the details and Jonathan listened with genuine concern for his friend as well as the genuine concern for this possible threat.
A few hours later, David was pleased to see his family leave the driveway on their way to the beach. Everyone would sleep better knowing that they were safe. David spent the day fixing the drywall and painting the ceiling. It was a good project. It didn't take much thought yet kept him busy. He was pleased with the work he had done on the ceiling. The doors to the house were all deadbolted, and cans were strung along the windows to produce a poor man's security alarm system. All day, the phone and gun remained attached to his waist, and now that he prepared to lay in bed to sleep, they were each laid within easy reach on the nightstand. He was alone with only his thoughts. As the darkness of night filled his home, he began to wrestle with thoughts of protection and fear.
Chapter Seven
Saturday:
Narcissists Control
Mr. Summerall sat in his impressive office. His import-export business was successful in both legitimate and criminal branches. Supplying drugs through the legitimate imports he received was a very successful enterprise. It seemed all he touched prospered, and with money came great power. So much so, that he felt safe doing both businesses from his corporate office in downtown Tampa. He was in control of everything that he supplied and all those that worked for him.
His crimson colored chair blended tastefully with the mahogany desk and African antiques. Above his desk were a collection of exotic masks from around the world. Their wooden and painted faces seemed to follow all those that would enter and stand before the desk. No one who entered this office ever felt safe, and these dark eye-less orbs appeared to watch the decisions being made, and indeed they were. His men waited outside and watched through the cameras concealed in the masks, as well as those strategically placed around the building. They were ready to do whatever was asked by their boss. They knew those that didn't obey him, often met with a tortured death. They would always obey. In this office, his desires were all that mattered. Life and death were his decision. He left nothing to chance, and he would always be in control.
The door opened. A sober young man entered, his hands clenched and filled with sweat. The force of his own anger melted in the weight of the fear that gripped his soul. He tried to maintain an image of boldness, but he was scared, because he knew his boss exchanged failure with death.
Mr. Summerall drank in this fear. He liked its taste. Slowly he spoke each word, deliberately hiding his intentions from this captive. "So, you failed again."
Joey begged for mercy, “Mr. S., please! I can fix this!”
Death stood in the corner watching. He wanted a painful sacrifice for failure. The paramedic still lived. He was to have died, and this fool failed. He watched as this lamb was prepared for slaughter.
Mr. Summerall said, "So, you who have sold for me and aspired to become my student of power and wealth, you were supposed to take care of those paramedics who talked with the junkie. But, you failed. You are not worth anything to me." The demonic voice of Death spoke through him, fully possessing him, and he hissed, "I will be satisfied with nothing but your death."
"Can't I try again? Please, let me try again. Don't kill me! There’s gotta be some way I can make it up to you! Please, anything!" Joey caught a glimpse of Mr. Summerall’s eyes and knew he would die soon, and his voice broke as he whispered, “My death, nothing else?...” Joey dropped his head in stunned silence as Fear overwhelmed him.
Deep hideous laughter rose from behind the desk then slowly Mr. Summerall walked behind his prey. “I buy and sell, and don’t tolerate failure or risk. You knew the cost if you failed me. And, you have failed!” he paused, and his words became condescending and cruel, “You bring me nothing but unnecessary risk. And now, nothing but your death will satisfy me.” The insanity of this man’s intent was revealed as his menacing delusion continued, “Death … I control Death. He and I are partners. I give him the souls of men like you, and he gives me Power!” He placed his hand on the neck of the trembling captured fool, “One day Death and I will rule together in hell. You'll be my servant forever. Consider yourself my deposit for an eternity of power and authority!” His strong hand slowly ran down the back of his sacrifice. He was pleased and laughed again.
Joey suddenly understood that he had been working for a mad man and he would not escape. Tears flowed freely as he cried for mercy knowing he would be given none. These tears of surrender fueled the supplier's narcissistic control. His voice became toxic as he continued to pour out the vile evil from within his mind, "I think Death likes it better when those I send to him, suffer first. You failed me, and now you'll pay what I'm due.” He paused as he reached over and touched a button on the desk.
As the two men walked in, he looked away from his captive and said, "Make sure he's still alive when I get there in two days. But, please have fun with him. I know how you like to abuse the young men I give you. I give you permission, just make sure he is still alive and awake when I get there." His men didn't say a word and grabbed the young man who stood stunned by fear and unable to move. Their eyes were dark. Their task would not be unusual, and their captive would suffer.
Mr. Summerall looked again toward his captive as he was being removed from his office and sneered. "And, when you are dead, no one can connect me with those teenagers. You are nothing but a risk to be eliminated."
He no longer was interested in this young dealer, and his mind shifted to Jonathan and David. He spoke to the demons behind the masks. “They are both liabilities that are no longer worth the risk. I'll handle those two paramedics myself. Personally...Yes, this time it will be personal.”
The stench of Death lingered in the office. His mind turned again as he stared up at the masks. Slowly, he began to hear, almost audibly, the Voices of Evil as they hissed, fueling the lie that whispered of his reign in hell. He needed to make many more human sacrifices before that day. Enough murder and his place in hell would be guaranteed.
The Voices quieted. They knew the easiest way to control any human was when the person thought the decisions they made were their own. Slowly, a smile, spawned by darkness, settled on the supplier’s face and he knew what he would do. Jonathan and David could expose him, if he did not kill them first. But, he would wait until after he had enjoyed the kill of the young dealer. There was no need to rush, after all, he knew where these two paramedics lived and worked. That thought humored him and broke the remaining weight of torment that lingered on his soul. He enjoyed the power of knowing he was in control and could have these two anytime he wanted. Earthly power and wealth in exchange for hell's destruction was a fool's exchange. The Voices filled their fool with his reward.
The tearful young drug dealer was taken to an old wooden barn outside the city, blindfolded and tied down to await his fate. Anger and Fear tormented him. They had both worked well together to prepare Joey for his destruction. His soul would be eternally tormented by these two familiar voices. As worms, they would eat at the flesh of his soul, reminding him of his decisions made by their leading. He had chosen to obey their voices, and he would be tormented by that knowledge for eternity. It had begun. The torment of hell would begin on this side of Death's gate. The grapes of wrath and fear would continue to make wine for them to drink. They drank freely and deeply.
David couldn’t sleep and got up to find some food in the refrigerator. He was hoping for some beer or anything sweet to satisfy the stress within but found nothing but carrots and celery to snack on. His family had gone to the beach and taken most of the food with them. Had he heard a sound? He looked up toward the laundry room door. He shook his head and moaned at his own imagination. He turned his attention again back to the refrigerator. This time he pushed the juice aside and looked for some hidden treasure in the back. There was nothing worth eating. David slowly walked over to the sofa, empty-handed. He looked at the clock; it was only 9:00 p.m. The house was quiet, too quiet.
"This place is giving me the creeps!," David groaned as his mind raced, "I need to get out of here!" He didn't like being here alone tonight, knowing he would never sleep and with nothing good to eat. He picked up the phone. "Jonathan, what are you doing?"
"Nothing. Just eating a pizza," came his friend's voice. "Don't want to be alone? Come on over. I don't blame you after last night's excitement. Bring your clothes. The spare bedroom is Robert’s home office so you can sleep on the sofa, no prob."
David chuckled timidly. "Well, you're right; I don't want to stay here. I'm hungry. Got enough pizza for me?"
"Nope. But, by the time you get here they should have delivered the next one. Come on. I wouldn't want to stay there, either."
David drove quickly to his friend's home in Brandon. The large impressive condos in this gated neighborhood were well maintained and well above his pay-grade. Robert definitely had his perks. David paused at the front door and for a moment considered the wisdom of sleeping here tonight. Robert had been very odd recently, and he recalled Jonathan's frustration and growing fear of him. Spending the night at Jonathan's would be awkward, and he decided he would leave his bag in the car until he was sure it would work out. He took a deep breath and knocked on the door. After all, Jonathan was his friend.
