It was hard to say who was more startled, Bill Bartlett or Paul Brown. Dan Logan, however, did not seem surprised to see Arnold Narsch show up at nearly two in the morning at the Stage Stop Restaurant. If anything, he seemed more embarrassed, like a little boy caught in the act of doing something he shouldn't be doing.
“Gentlemen,” repeated Arnold, sweeping his hand toward the door, “It is late and we have much to discuss. Here, this should suffice.” Reaching into his pocket he withdrew a fiftydollar bill and dropped it onto the table.
Arnold turned and headed for the door. He didn't bother looking to see if the men would follow or not. Logan, he knew, would follow. That or lose his job. Paul's curiosity would not allow him to stay behind. He was predictable that way. Bill, he was confident, would dutifully follow the other two.
The short walk from the restaurant to his car left him a little short of breath. The cool night air was a welcome relief from the stale warm air inside with its typical truck stop mix of stale cigarette smoke, warmed over coffee, and hot grease. He paused as he reached into his pocket for his keyless entry remote. A brief, unpleasant whiff of diesel caused him to wrinkle his nose as the electronic “chirp-chirp” of the car unlocking itself echoed off the wall behind him.
Fortunately the parking lot was mostly empty. The only other person he could see was a truck driver over at the other end of the building filling his tanks at the diesel pumps. The waitress was too distracted by the surprisingly large tip to pay much attention to the men sliding into Arnold's sleek, new Lexus outside.
“Please,” said Arnold as he put the key into the ignition, “Be sure to fasten your seat belts. We wouldn't want to break the law, now would we?”
The engine turned over smoothly. It purred so quietly that those seated inside could barely tell it was running. Arnold put the car into reverse and carefully backed out of the handicapped parking space and headed for the exit. “I hope you don't mind,” he said looking at Paul in the rear view mirror. “My Jaguar was stolen the other day. It was totaled in an accident out by Hinckley Lake. I don't like accidents.”
“Where are we headed?” asked Paul.
“Why you disappoint me, dear fellow! I thought it would be obvious. We're going across the street to see that mysterious hole you found.”
The car's interior was warm enough to chase away the late night chill as Arnold pulled out of the parking lot. Crossing the street he headed up the Center Road drive to the church parking lot. He could barely feel the bumps in the drive as the Lexus crept smoothly up the bumpy gravel drive.
“I've always enjoyed this place at night,” commented Arnold as they drove by the Civil War Memorial, “It is so very peaceful – like a tomb. Such a sense of history as well. It’s like driving late at night out on Nathaniel where the old orphanage burned.” He turned to look at Paul. “I'm sure you've heard the stories. They say you can hear a child crying in the dark of the moon. Have you ever heard it?”
Arnold parked the car in the back of the parking lot, near the deer path that led off into the woods. He unlatched his seat belt and motioned for the men to get out of the car. The gravel crunched softly under his expensive Italian shoes as he swung his feet out of the car and pulled himself erect. Pursing his lips he sucked in the cool air deeply and noisily as he looked up at the full moon and stars shining brilliantly in the clear night sky. Opening his mouth he expelled the now warm moist air in a long, exaggerated exhalation.
Arnold reached back into the car to retrieve his ornate walking stick while the others got out. Straightening up again he adjusted his coat and closed the car door. The car chirped twice as he triggered the remote door locks “Come, come, Mr. Brown, the night waits for no man, young or old. Lead the way if you would please.”
“Lead the way where?” stalled Paul, not really wanting to go into the woods.
“Why to your mysterious hole in the ground, of course! Mr. Logan, please accompany Mr. Brown. I would not want him to trip or get lost in the dark.”
Bill Bartlett, who had been quiet up to now, spoke up, “Wouldn't it be better to wait until morning. It would be a lot safer then. Besides, we don't have any flashlights. From what I understand, that hole's a dangerous place.”
“Nonsense, Mr. Bartlett. The night is clear and the moon is bright. We have all the light we need.”
“He does have a point,” objected Paul. “Why do we have to go out there tonight? For that matter, why do we need to go at all? What is it you want?”
Arnold looked hurt, “I thought it was obvious, I want to see what I am buying.” He pointed his cane at Dan Logan. “Assist Mr. Brown.”
Logan stepped up behind Paul and grabbed his arm before he could react. Twisting it painfully behind his back he propelled Paul forward to the path. Strangely, Bill, did not react but followed passively as they headed into the woods.
A few minutes later and the group arrived by the downed ginkgo tree. Arnold was somewhat out of breath and leaned heavily on his walking stick as they entered the small clearing. His shoes were stylish but not overly practical for walking in the woods at night. Consequently, his feet hurt more than he expected and his heart beat a bit harder and faster than he cared.
His physical discomfort all but disappeared as his eyes took in an incredible sight. A shimmering, luminescent pool of thick indigo mist filled the pit by the roots of the fallen tree. Strange haunting dark shapes seemed to swirl around as he stared into its depths.
Mesmerized by the sight, Arnold forgot the others for a moment, though it seemed like an eternity to him. Several of the shapes came together to form a vaguely familiar female face, his long dead mother, perhaps? He could almost hear her voice faintly calling, “Arrrrrnoold, Arrrrrnoold,” inviting him closer... closer...
A hand tugging on his shoulder interrupted. “Mr. Narsch,” said Bill, “Careful you don't get too close. That dirt’s awfully soft around the edge. It would be easy to fall in.”
Arnold shook his head and blinked his eyes several times. The face and the voice were gone. Regaining his composure he turned back to face Paul. Dan still had a firm hold on him as they stood a few feet back from the pit.
“Ahem, yes.” Arnold cleared his throat. “Alright, down to business then. Mr. Brown, my employee here has presented you with a more than generous offer for your little church and the seventeen acres of land that it sits on. Unfortunately you have so far refused it. As the interim pastor I believe that you can, and will, with the help of Mr. Logan and Mr. Bartlett here, convince your people to sell.”
“No way!” protested Paul vehemently. “We're not going to sell this property to anybody! Especially not you!”
Arnold ignored his protest as he continued impassively, “If you will agree to my offer right now I will throw in a small bonus.”
“I don't care what kind of bonus you offer. This church is not for sale!”
“Why, Mr. Brown, you have not heard what the bonus is yet. The bonus is your life.” Arnold gestured toward Bill with his cane. “And the life of Mr. Bartlett here.”
Paul was dumbstruck. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Thinking fast, he tried grasp the situation. “Lord,” he prayed silently, “I sure need some help here! Surround me with Your protective hand and send your angels as ministering spirits as you promised in Hebrews 1:14.”
He looked around as Arnold Narsch continued. “My family has been searching for its exact location and the means to open it for generations. Refusal is no option. We will not be denied.”
Paul paused before answering. Worried at first, he began to feel a renewed confidence in the Lord. “Yeah, right. You have no power over us, we belong to the Lord Jesus Christ and we are His servants. You can't do anything to us unless God allows it!”
Arnold's face contorted in a brief spasm of anger before he regained his composure. “Don't be so sure, Mr. Brown. After all, you are here now because I willed it, not your pathetic little god. Besides, you of all people should know that I have already gained control of Mr. Bartlett. Remember the vial of oil that burst on him Sunday morning? The Tunoan oil curse? I set it up and I will not let him out of my control until this property is mine!”
“You may have a temporary influence on him,” answered Paul, “But God is ultimately in control!”
Twisting in Dan's grasp he called over to Bill who stood behind Arnold. “Bill! Bill! Remember who you are in Christ! You have been set free in Jesus and the devil has no right to hold you in bondage!”
“Shut up!” shouted Arnold.
Bill looked up, his face an aching sea of pain and confusion. “Pray, Bill, pray!” called Paul.
“SHUT UP!” shouted Arnold, louder and more stridently than before.
“Remember Romans 8:15-16! 'For ye received not the spirit of bondage again unto fear; but ye received the spirit of adoption, whereby we cry, Abba, Father. The Spirit himself beareth witness with our spirit, that we are children of God:'”
“STOP IT!” screamed Arnold, brandishing his walking stick, “Your god is nothing! He's a miserable failure! I order you to shut up NOW or I'll have you thrown into this pit immediately!”
“No, your god is nothing!” countered Paul as he turned back to face Arnold. “Your god is the miserable failure. He is a liar and a murderer. He's a deceiver and a pretender. He is the one who is going into the pit—the bottomless pit!”
“We'll see about that! Let's see your god save you! Logan, throw him in!”
Paul could feel Logan's grip tighten on his arm and shoulder and braced himself. Logan didn't move though and Paul could feel him begin to tremble. Arnold shouted and cursed as Dan began to shake. Between Arnold's bellowing, he could hear Bill crying and repeating over and over, “Abba, Father! Abba, Father!”
Suddenly, Dan let go of Paul and sunk to his knees. “Father! Forgive me!” he cried, “I've been so wrong, so very, very wrong! I've sinned! I'm the one who deserves to die! Thank you for sending your Son Jesus Christ to die for my sins. I believe! I believe He died for me and rose again the third day like the Bible says. With all my heart I turn from my sin and accept Jesus Christ by faith as my only hope and Savior right now!”
“Aaaaargh!” screamed Arnold, his face twisted with hate and fury. He raised his cane over his head and charged Dan and Paul like an enraged bear. Moving surprisingly fast for a man of his bulk, he lashed out with his cane, striking Dan on the cheek, leaving an angry looking red gash just below his left eye.
Paul ducked as Arnold took a swing at him. Missing, Arnold stumbled and nearly fell into the pit. Paul caught him by the belt just in time and swung him away from the blue mist that seemed to reach up to grab him. The belt ripped through several belt loops as Arnold crashed into a large, disheveled heap alongside the pit.
“Get away from me!” Arnold moaned as he lay crumpled on the ground when Paul tried to help him up. His expensive Italian shoes were soiled and scuffed. Several buttons were missing from his shirt as he tried vainly to tuck it into his muddy pants while his belt hung limply by the few remaining loops.
Slowly he raised himself to all fours, his breath coming in great wheezy gasps. He strove to regain some measure of dignity as he used his walking stick to stand up. He glared malevolently at the others. “You'll regret this, Mr. Brown,” he said quietly, “You'll all regret this.”
Limping and leaning heavily on his cane he turned and headed back toward the parking lot. Pausing at the edge of the clearing, he turned and fixed an icy, withering eye on Dan, “Oh, and Mr. Logan, you are fired.”
The men looked at each other as Arnold lumbered off into the darkness, not quite knowing what to say. Bill broke the silence by pointing to the pit. “Look! The mist is disappearing!”
Unlike earlier, the mist was not receding into the hole. Instead, it slowly dissipated into the air. Along with it, the oppressive uneasiness that seemed to surround the pit gave way to a sense of relief, as if an evil presence were departing.
Dropping to his knees, Paul thanked God for His protection and victory in the spiritual battle they had just come through. Dan quickly joined him, rejoicing over his new found faith in Christ. Bill joined in as well, rejoicing over Dan's salvation and his own deliverance.
After a few minutes of prayer and praise the men stood up. The mist was gone completely now and the night around them seemed somewhat brighter. Heading back to the parking lot, a chorus of croaking frogs and chirping crickets serenaded the men as their hearts swelled with joy and a greater appreciation for the love, mercy and protective hand of God.
Both Dan’s and Bill's trucks were still parked over at the Stage Stop Restaurant so they headed down the drive to the restaurant from the parking lot. Crossing the street they headed over to Dan's truck and had a quick word of prayer.
“That's a nasty cut where Arnold's cane hit you,” said Paul as Dan got into his truck, “Better get keep an eye on it. Careful going home.”
Walking over to Bill's truck, Paul waited as Bill unlocked the doors. Climbing in he turned to wave at Dan who tooted his horn as he backed out of his parking space and drove past them. It was sure good to see the change in Dan, and Bill, thought Paul, as the engine coughed to life.
A few minutes later Bill pulled into Brandon's driveway. “Paul, er, Pastor,” began Bill hesitantly as Paul began to open the door, “I can't thank you enough for what you did for me. Back there. At the hole, that is. It was like I was a prisoner in my own body, almost like a puppet on a string. I couldn't seem to break free. But when you reminded me of who I was in Christ, it seemed as if whatever it was that had me in its grip lost its hold on me. I just wanted to thank you.”
“Hey, don't thank me. I didn't do anything. Thank God. He's the one that delivered you.”
“Yeah, but He used you. I really appreciate that. And thanks for being willing to come out late at night like this.”
“Don't mention it.” Paul hopped out of the truck. “Take care, Bill. I'll probably talk to you sometime tomorrow, or rather later today. Good night.”
Paul stretched tiredly, drinking in the cool night air, before climbing up the steps to the back porch. His uncle's cat, Sicillia, met him as he let himself in, winding her way between his feet. He scooped her up and set her on his shoulder as he headed up the back stairs.
A faint snoring sound came from his Uncle Brandon's room as he walked quietly down the upstairs hallway. He looked in on both Ben and Alex who were fast asleep. Sicillia hopped off his shoulder with a slight thump as he reached his own bedroom as a faint light gleamed out from under the door as he reached to open it.
Karen was sitting up in the bed as he entered the room. The alarm clock beside her glowed “3:11 AM” in a cool indigo blue light. “Paul,” she said anxiously he came into the room, “Thank God you’re alright! I was going to wait up for you but I fell asleep while reading my Bible. I woke up suddenly a little over an hour ago with a strong impression to pray for you. I haven't been able to go back to sleep since.”
“Well, honey, it's been quite a night...” began Paul as he got ready for bed.
It was nearly ten when Paul woke up the next morning. The door was slightly ajar where Sicillia the cat had nosed her way in. She was curled up in a warm fuzzy ball against the small of his back. She meowed reproachfully as he moved to get up and quickly went back to sleep.
Faint snippets of conversation wafted upstairs as Paul groggily swung his feet out of the bed and felt for his slippers. Grabbing his robe, he made his way down the hall to get ready to face the day.
A few minutes later, he headed down the stairs to find Karen on the telephone. “Paul's up now... I'll be sure to tell him... Yes, I'll try to get him to slow down a little. He's been on the go ever since we got back from Tunoa... You take care, too. Bye-bye.”
Karen hung up the phone. “Good morning, dear. That was Janet Bartlett. Bill's doing much better today. He's back to his old self and apologizing like crazy. He even promised to take her out for dinner tonight. He told her all about last night, too. She said she could hardly believe it. I'd have trouble myself if it weren't for some of the stuff we saw in Tunoa.”
“You and me both! Where's everybody at?”
“Uncle Brandon took the kids to the store with him an hour or so ago. They should be back before noon.”
They chatted for a few moments then Paul went to the kitchen to get them each a glass of water. He really wanted a cup of tea but reminded himself that he was fasting. Besides, he still felt a little guilty about ordering the coffee last night, even if he ended up not drinking any of it.
Returning to the living room, Paul set their glasses down on the coffee table before sitting down next to his wife. Sipping their water, they shared a couple of prayer requests and then spent a few moments in prayer together.
When they finished praying, Karen drank the rest of her water and headed down to the basement to start a load of laundry. Paul, meanwhile, grabbed his reading Bible and opened it to the book of Galatians. Glancing at the number of chapters, he said to himself, “Looks like I'll be in Zechariah tomorrow.”
Alex burst through the front door just as Paul finished reading Proverbs 7. “Daddy! Daddy!” she cried excitedly as she threw her arms around him.
Ben followed her in carrying a few bags. He paused long enough to say good morning to his dad before taking them to the kitchen.
Brandon came in with another bag behind him and set it down on the counter beside Paul. “It's about time you're up!” he kidded his nephew, “Karen told me what time you came in last night. Keep it up and I'm going to have to set a curfew for you.”
Alex giggled.
“Hey, squirt,” said Brandon, turning his attention to Alex, “I think I hear your mom downstairs doing laundry. Why don't you go give her a hand.”
He watched as Alex scampered off before turning back to Paul with a serious expression on his face. “I ran into one of Wildwood's finest while getting gas at the Stage Stop. Seems there was a bad accident down Center Road at Fire Creek early this morning. The driver was killed. Fortunately no one else was involved.”
“That always was a dangerous spot,” said Paul. “Anyone we know?”
“Yeah. Dan Logan.”
“Dan! What happened?!”
“Sgt. Hunt thought maybe he had fallen asleep at the wheel. He overshot the curve at the bottom of the hill and nose-dived into the creek. Good thing he got saved last night.”
“But that's impossible!” protested Paul. “He was wide awake when he left the Stage Stop. It's only a little over a mile from there to Fire Creek. I don't see how he could have fallen asleep in that short time.”
“That does seem a little hard to believe,” agreed Brandon. “But what else could it be?”
“Beats me! I mean Dan was pretty excited about just getting saved and seeing the Lord defeat Arnold Narsch. He was pretty pumped when he got in his truck. I don't think that whack from Arnold's walking stick wasn't enough to give a guy like him a concussion or anything that might have caused him to black out on the way home.”
Paul paused. An unsettling thought was forming in the back of his mind. He looked at his uncle. “You don't suppose...”
“Don't suppose what?”
“You don't suppose Arnold's cane had some of the same stuff in it that killed Pastor Williams. I mean, after all, we are fairly sure that the Narsch's had something to do with his death.”
“It's a thought,” agreed Brandon, “Maybe I'll give Sgt. Hunt a call. Better yet, I'll give Agent McKay a call. If there's the possibility of a connection, the FBI may be interested in examining Dan's body. Besides, it will give me a chance to find out if they identified the substance in the needle they found in the umbrella recovered from the crash site out by Hinckley Lake.”
Paul sat back on the couch while Brandon headed off to his office. “Lord,” he prayed, “If Dan was poisoned like Pastor Williams, then that is twice that you kept me from being killed. But why did those men have to die instead of me? I know they were saved and even now they are in heaven with you. Still, why did they have to die? I don't understand, Lord. Nevertheless, I do know that you are in control. Please help me to understand.”
Opening his eyes, Paul leaned forward. He started to close his Bible when a verse, Genesis 50:20 where Joseph sought to reassure his brothers who had conspired against him, caught his eye: “But as for you, ye thought evil against me; but God meant it unto good, to bring to pass, as it is this day, to save much people alive.”
His thoughts were interrupted as his uncle returned from his office. “The FBI identified the substance that was in the umbrella needle. Josh McKay said it would have normally taken longer except that the lab tech that identified it had seen it before. He used to work in Seattle where the same substance was used in a string of murders by the Gaia Liberation Front. The FBI came in because the victims were federal workers, U.S. Forest Service and National Park rangers.”
“What is it?”
“It’s an organic neurotoxin produced in the skin glands of the rough skinned newt.”
Ben, who had come back in the room while the men were talking, spoke up. “Hey! I’ve heard of them! They're only found in western Oregon and Washington. I read about them in my biology book. It’s the only poisonous amphibian in North America.”
“That's right, Ben,” continued Brandon. “Apparently it causes death by paralyzing the heart and lung muscles. McKay said he would have the lab run a tox-screen on Logan. Said it might dovetail with an investigation they've opened up into those two GLF guys, Chakkal and Chattham and their involvement in Pastor Williams death.”
The phone rang, interrupting their discussion. “I'll get it!” called out Karen who was just coming up from the basement. Alex followed her with a basket of folded clothes.
Paul could hear Karen talking on the phone in the kitchen. It sounded as if she were talking about something at the church. A few moments later she hung up and walked into the living room.
“That was Curtis Krankovich,” she said. “He said you guys might want to come and look at the hole. He's out there with Willie Sykes and Dr. Minger right now. He says that oppressive feeling we felt around the pit is gone. And, you won't believe this, a spring of crystal clear water is bubbling up out of it!”