Kaleidoscope Eyes (7 page)

Perfect! They were only about fifteen feet from the house. The heat was almost unbearable, but that didn’t matter. They were getting the footage!

“Over there!” Jed pointed at the window, but Andy was already filming. Jed peered close, trying to see who was inside, and his blood ran cold. There in the window, framed by the raging flames behind him, was a little boy of no more than five or six. His screams were muffled by the glass, but the terror on his face was clear. So much so that Jed’s pulse kicked up a notch.

The firefighter nearest the window, was a big man. Though Jed couldn’t see his face, only one of the guys at the station was that big—Ken Hall, who had two little boys of his own. Jed watched as Ken radioed to the men inside the house, yelling for them to direct the hoses to the room the boy was in. After two weeks with these guys, Jed understood the fury in Ken’s voice.

They hated fire. And they loved it.

Had to love it to understand it.

Had to hate it to kill it.

And he understood how angry they got when the fire tried to win.

The little boy clawed at the window, and it took all of Jed’s control to not run over there and start slamming his fists on the glass. How could they stand it? How could these guys go through this emotional wringer day after day after day?

As though in answer to Jed’s agonized question, Ken lifted one of his huge gloved hands and pressed it to the glass. The little boy wiped his face, then reached up and held his own small hand opposite Ken’s.

At the contact, Jed’s breath caught in his throat. He knew what was happening. Ken was talking to the boy, trying to calm him, telling him what he needed to do. And he knew the man was doing something else.

Praying. Big time.

Though Jed had talked with all the firefighters in the station, he and Ken had spent the most time together these last two weeks. Jed wasn’t sure why. They just seemed to end up in the same places all the time. Ken loved to talk about his family, which Jed didn’t mind.

And God.

Which Jed did mind.

Andy used to try to talk to Jed about God too. When Jed made it clear he wasn’t interested, Andy backed off. But he still carried his Bible with him wherever they went. Even read the thing. That was fine with Jed, as long as he didn’t have to hear about it.

But when Ken turned out to be a Bible thumper, Jed kept his mouth shut. He didn’t want to insult the man, so he just listened as Ken talked about God’s provision, about the way God walked beside him, helping him help others.

“That’s the business He’s in, you know. Helping and healing.”

Jed forced himself to agree. And to ignore Andy’s smile behind the camera.

But some of it was good. Or—to be more accurate—it made good material for the episode. Like the conversation they’d had just last week. Ken was telling Jed how prayer kept him focused and calm. Jed listened and was just about to challenge Ken when Dobin, one of the other firefighters, grabbed a chair, flipped it backward, and plopped down beside them.

“You really believe that stuff, Kenny?”

Ken studied him. Dobin was younger, maybe in his late twenties, and full of what Jed’s mother used to call “spit and vinegar.” After a few moments, Ken relaxed.

“Yeah, I believe it.”

“That God works miracles and prayer makes a difference?”

“Absolutely.”

Dobin crossed his arms, leaning them on the back of the chair he was straddling. “How can you? I mean, look around you, dude. The world’s gone crazy. What good does prayer do in a world like this?”

Jed wanted to add a resounding “Amen,” but the viewers weren’t interested in what he had to say So he just kept his mouth shut. Or would have, if Ken hadn’t pulled him into the fray.

Ken tilted his head at the sarcasm in Dobin’s tone and slanted a look at Jed. “I suppose you agree with him?”

Jed held out his hands. “Hey, I’m just listening in. This isn’t my fight.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.”

They’d all turned to stare at Andy.

“Well, whaddya know.” Dobin slapped his leg. “You do have a voice. I figured you was a mute, boy. You never say anything!”

Andy shrugged. “I’m a cameraman. It’s my job to stay in the background.”

Dobin waved his words aside. “Well, you’re in the spotlight now. Why do you think
ol’
Jed’s wrong?”

“Because it’s everyone’s fight. Why do you think the world’s in such bad shape to begin with?”

Dobin snorted. “Because people are basically jerks, out for themselves, and that’s life?”

Ken shook his head. “That’s what people
think
life is, but it’s not.”

“How can you say that?” Jed knew he should just shut up and let the others talk. He’d just have Andy edit him out later. “I mean, just look at the things people do and say.”

“So we judge humanity by the lowest common denominator?” Ken’s slow smile was almost paternal. “I think your buddy Bill pegged that kind of thinking.”

Jed frowned. “Bill?”

“That way madness lies; let me shun that.’”

“Shakespeare, right?”

When Ken nodded at Dobin, Andy groaned and disappeared
behind the camera again. But Jed could hear him mutter, “I
hate
Shakespeare.”

“Shakespeare’s good, but I’ve got a better one.” Ken stretched his legs out in front of him. “‘When you go through deep waters and great trouble, I will be with you. When you go through rivers of difficulty; you will not drown! When you walk through the fire … you will not be burned up, the flames will not consume you.’”

“Now that’s cool!” Dobin pounded out his enthusiasm on the back of his chair. “Who wrote that?”

“God—” Jed caught Ken’s surprised glance—“supposedly. Through a prophet. Guy named Isaiah.”

“Isaiah 43:2 to be exact. Very good, Jed. I’m impressed.”

Jed’s lip curled. “Don’t be. I’ve got a brain that doesn’t let go of much of anything I’ve memorized. No matter how long ago I memorized it.”

“It’s not bad to have the Bible stuck in your brain.”

“So you say.”

For a second Jed thought he might have offended the big man, but Ken just smiled. “Know what else I say?” He turned to Dobin. “life is more than being out for yourself, brother. A lot more.” He reached into his pocket and drew out a worn photo. Jed had seen it a number of times—it was a great shot of Ken and his wife, Amy, with their two boys. He held it out to Dobin. “Take a look.”

“I’ve seen your family, Kenny”

“I know, but look anyway. ’Cuz
that’s
what life is about, Dob. Love. And legacy. And reaching out to pass on truth.”

“So you think you got a corner on truth?”

Ken’s smiled. “Nah, man. I don’t.” He took the photo and slid it back into his pocket. “But God does. And I know that as sure as I know my own name.”

Jed couldn’t help it. He had to ask. “What if you’re wrong?”

Ken pinned him with a stare, and slight apprehension slithered through Jed. Sure, Jed was athletic and fairly well built, but this guy had arms like tree trunks. He could break Jed in half if he wanted to.

Instead, the firefighter just shrugged. “I don’t believe I am. But just for argument’s sake, let’s say I might be. So okay, I’ve spent my life following what God says. Raised my kids to love God and trust Him. Helped others when I could.” He eyed Jed and Dobin. “You tell me, who’s the real loser? Someone who lives life with integrity, who knows true joy and love and has added good to the world, or someone who’s just out for himself?”

He had a point. “Okay, I’ll give you that. But prayer? Come on, Ken. You live in the real world. How can you think it changes anything?”

“I don’t
think
, son. I know.” Ken tapped his fingers over his heart. “In here. And so will you one day”

Jed stiffened. “Don’t count on it.”

Ken stood, reaching out to lay one of those big hands on Jed’s shoulder. “I don’t count on anything, but God and my brethren.” He eyed Jed, that small smile on his face. “Neither one has ever let me down.”

Jed wished he could say the same.

“Get down, Benny! Pull the blanket over you!”

Ken’s bellow brought Jed’s attention back to the drama unfolding in front of him. He glanced at Andy. “What’s going on?”

“I’m not sure—” Andy shifted the camera on his shoulder—“but I think they’re getting ready to break the windo—”

The shattering of glass split the air, and Jed watched Ken knock the window glass out of the way, then vault inside. In seconds, he was leaning out the window, passing the boy, wrapped in the blanket, to another firefighter. The man hurried the bundled boy past Jed and Andy to one of the waiting ambulances.

“Come on, Ken … get outta there … ”

As if he heard Jed’s muttered urging, Ken looked up. His gaze met Jed’s, and a grin broke through the black smudges on his face, triumph a banner across his features. He said something, and though Jed was too far away to hear it, he was pretty sure he understood.

He took a step closer. “Forget the gloating, you big ox! Just get out of there.”

Ken laughed, then planted his hands on the windowsill, ready to jump out—

The explosion came out of nowhere.

It seemed to shake the world, the concussion hitting Jed dead center, a shock-wave battering ram that sent him flying backward. He lay there, sprawled on the ground, ears ringing, watching debris rain down on him from the sky.

“Oh man … ”

The groan came from his right, and Jed pushed up on one elbow, peering at Andy, who was curled in the fetal position on the ground beside him. “You—”Jed choked on the smoke billowing around them—“you okay?”

Andy straightened, then sat up, the camera in his lap. He must have curled himself around it when he fell. Now that was a great cameraman. Save the camera at all costs.

Andy wiped at his face, then glared at Jed. “I quit.”

Chuckling, Jed struggled to his feet, then held a hand out to Andy. “Whooee! Now that’s what I call a ride. We must have flown ten feet!”

“Twenty” Andy took his hand and pulled himself to his feet. “But at least we’re still in one piece.”

Jed frowned at the odd sound in Andy’s words. He studied his friend’s grim features—and understanding slammed into him as hard as the explosion had. Jed spun back to the house.

The whole side was gone. What remained was engulfed in flames and roiling black smoke.

Ken was nowhere to be seen.

“I got it all.”

Jed turned back to Andy, whose deadpan voice went on.

“I had the camera trained on him, on a close-up of his face, when the place blew.” He shook his head, his eyes reflecting the shock in his tone. “He was smiling, Jed. And he looked right at someone. Someone right next to us.”

Sickened, Jed swallowed. “He was looking at me.”

“You?” Andy stared at him. “Last thing the guy ever said, and it was to you?”

Jed closed his eyes as questions flooded him. Questions he couldn’t have stopped if he tried.
God … where were You? How could You let this happen?
Bitterness seeped through him as Jed turned to walk away.

“What were they?”

He hesitated at Andy’s low question then spoke without looking back. “What?”

“Ken’s last words. What did he say to you?”

Jed didn’t answer; he just started walking again. Away. He had to get away. As far and as fast as he could. Because Jed had a good idea what Ken had said. He was almost certain the firefighter had spoken four words. Four simple words.

Never lets me down.

But Ken was wrong. Horribly wrong. And as long as Jed lived, he knew he’d never forget those words.

Or forgive the God who’d made Ken Hall a liar.

SIX        

S
EPTEMBER
8

4:00 a.m.

People thought darkness was the same everywhere.

It wasn’t.

Nothing compared to darkness in the woods. There, it was thick, unbroken, dense. A heavy blanket that cloaked and suffocated. No residual light from streetlights or homes or businesses … and even the bit of light offered by the moon or stars was swallowed in the branches of towering trees.

Annie studied the woods around them, just beyond the clearing.

This was where she belonged. Out here, in the quiet of the wilderness, with Kodi. They worked with easy comfort, each aware of the other, focused on the task at hand. And as they worked, one overwhelming sensation filled Annie.

Contentment.

She loved being out here, doing this. Helping people. Bringing them home.

Unfortunately, Bertha probably didn’t share her feelings. Out there in that blackness the poor woman was probably terrified. It was bad enough when you knew what was going on. But with Alzheimer’s clouding her perceptions and understanding …

It would be like living a nightmare. One you couldn’t escape.