Lamp Black: Second Edition, Disaster, Preparedness, Survival, Awakening (The Gatekeeper Book 2) (34 page)

He looked at Paul and said, “It’s a biker gang, not a group. They usually don’t allow women in, at least not as patched members, but women are a big part of those gangs, just in ways we don’t really need to talk about right now.” He paused and cleared his throat. “Besides, I’m pretty sure that vest belonged to Darrel. It was way too big for Luanne.”

“Well, it shouldn’t be an issue anymore since you took care of Luanne,” said Paul. “What did the police say?” he asked as he stroked Marissa’s back.

“I didn’t take her to the police, Paul.”

“What?” replied Paul, much too loudly for the group, and the moment. He rose to his feet and asked, “Then what did you do with her? Please tell me you . . . you took care of her?”

“Paul, please sit down and keep your voice down. There’s no reason to get upset,” replied John.

“I am upset,” he moaned. “Did you, or did you not . . . finish her?”

“I did not.” said John.

Paul’s face changed from angry to calm and back to angry in quick successive flashes of emotion. “I knew you didn’t have the guts to kill her,” exploded Paul.

John stood up so quickly that his chair skidded backward on the tile floor with a screech. He was ready to punch the big-mouthed idiot in the face; lay him out for the night. But as soon as the anger presented itself, as soon as it made itself known, John let it pass over and away from him. He spoke calmly and evenly, but with an edge in his voice that was sharp as a knife. “If you ever say something like that to
me again you had better be ready to back it up. There’s no honor in killing a defenseless person, Paul!”

The blood drained from Paul’s face and he quickly sat down. Marissa stared at Paul with curiosity that turned to understanding, and then to anger. But to her credit she held her tongue. Jenna also remained quiet, and John was glad he shared the news of the event with her before dinner.

John looked at Paul and added, “I am not a killer, Paul. I wasn’t going to take her out into a field somewhere and execute her. I didn’t take her to the police because I couldn’t. They would have had every reason to come here and question us, and take us into custody.”

“John?” It was Marissa who spoke with calm curiosity, “What happened to the man, to that pig named Darrel?”

With great effort, John avoided looking at Paul. To have done so at that moment would have given Paul away as the definitive killer. “He died from his wounds,” replied John, which wasn’t a complete lie. Darrel clearly died from his gunshot wounds. What John wasn’t willing to say was that it was Paul’s gunshot – delivered to Darrel when he was bound, gagged and blindfolded in the back of his pickup - that killed him.

Marissa stared intently at John for several seconds, as if trying to read his thoughts, and then turned her attention back to Paul. Paul leaned forward and embraced his wife. It was the perfect move to escape his spouse’s visual interrogation, and John approved, though he knew she would question him later. John put his palms on the table and leaned forward. After a moment of calculated silence he resumed his seat. “He’s dead and buried, Marissa. But the woman . . . I drove her twenty miles out and released her. It was the only thing I could do given the circumstances,” replied John.

“John, I apologize for my husband’s behavior . . . for his rudeness.” said Marissa, as if she was presenting an official proclamation between two warring factions.

“Thank you Marissa, but it’s really not necessary. It’s been a long and painful day. I know you are tired. We’re all tired. I think it’s a good time for everyone to get some sleep.”

“Thank you John. Thank you Jenna. You saved our lives today and invited us into your home.” Tears began to spill down her cheeks. “We may never be able to repay our debt to you, but we thank you a thousand times, and we’ll do everything you ask of us, and more even. We are forever in your debt. Without your help we would probably be dead right now. Thank you,” she said, while crying freely and unashamed. She reached over the table and extended a hand to touch Jenna’s and John’s hands.

John was touched by Marissa’s sincerity, and he could see Jenna was too, for she was also freely crying. The two ladies got up and embraced. John and Paul looked at each other, shrugged, and shook hands. With that, the meeting was over. After a few goodnight wishes, and other farewells, everyone separated for the night.

John settled into bed next to Jenna and closed his eyes. He was absolutely exhausted, but he had never felt more alive, more in tune with his life and surroundings than he currently felt. They talked quietly about a few of the day’s events, and shared an intimate moment together in each other’s arms. Jenna knew John was too tired for anything more than a passionate kiss, so she gave him a pass, and told him to turn off his light and go to sleep. As John reached over to turn off his lamp he noticed he didn’t have a water bottle handy, so he stood up and said, “I’ll be right back, babe.”

“Where’re you going?” asked Jenna, amused.

“I need a bottle of water,” replied John.

As John reached for the door handle, Jenna cleared her throat and said, “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Oh yeah,” said John, and he walked over to Jenna. As he leaned over to give her a kiss, she giggled and said, “No, you big goof, you can’t go walking around the house in your underwear anymore.”

John looked down and laughed. “Oh. You’re right. Sorry love.” He threw on a pair of gym shorts and a t-shirt, and made his way to the kitchen. He was in the mood for ice cold water, but the only source, cold or otherwise, was in the now silent refrigerator. John entered the kitchen and saw Marissa sitting at the kitchen table. She was writing in a thick book under the light of a single flicker candle flame.

“Oh, sorry Marissa. I didn’t expect to find you here,” said John. He was impressed with Marissa’s resiliency and stamina, but figured she’d be sleeping off the day’s trauma by now. She should have been an emotional wreck given all that she endured. “I’ll be out of your way in a minute,” finished John.

“It’s OK, John. I’m just writing in my journal,” she said, with a quick glance up before resuming her writing.

John went to the refrigerator, and with a disposable cup in hand he held it under the water dispenser. It dribbled and sputtered pathetically. “Oops, forgot the water’s off,” he said aloud. After setting the cup on the counter, he opened the dark fridge and grabbed a cold water bottle. He found a partly frozen bottle and removed the lid for a drink. There were several frozen water bottles in the fridge. They were used to fill the empty space; to help keep the food cold during the night. Not feeling the least bit guilty about decommissioning one of the ice bottles, John took a long pull and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He loved cold water, and there was something about thinking he wouldn’t be able to enjoy it much longer that made it that much more enjoyable.

He was about to leave the kitchen without bothering Marissa, but he couldn’t ignore the prompting to say something to her. “Can I say something, Marissa? I don’t want to offend you, or anything, but I just don’t know any other way to say this,” said John.

Marissa put down her pen and looked up at John. The candle light shined warmly on her face, making her look extremely serene. She headed off his question by saying, “Are you surprised that I’m not all tears and sadness?” She locked eyes with John and smiled warmly.

Once again, John was impressed by Marissa. She quickly read his heart and opened the conversation with a discerning question of her own. “I am,” said John, “but only because I’ve seen how other women have responded to such violence. I’m very impressed with your strength and resiliency. It’s very unique,” finished John.

Marissa sighed, and with a finger she pulled a long strand of dark hair from her face and looped it over her ear. “I was raped when I was sixteen,” she said, matter-of-factly. “Today was brutal, but it wasn’t my first experience with such terror.”

John coughed on a mouthful of water, and when he tried to swallow his reply came out as a sputter. “I’m sorry, I . . .”

“John, really, it’s OK,” she replied, and stood as if intending to approach and pat him on the back.

He composed himself and said, “You surprise me once again. You are full of surprises, Marissa, but it does explain a lot.” He coughed and cleared his throat again. “Still, it was a terrible experience, and one that would have ruined a lesser woman. How do you cope with it so well?”

“That’s very kind of you to be so concerned, but the first experience did almost ruin me,” said Marissa, as she returned to her seat. “When I was in the hospital after the first attack, two men from my church came and gave me a blessing. They were my home-teachers, they. . .”

“Your home-teachers?” asked John.

“Yes. In my church, members visit other members at their homes. We call them home-teachers. They delivered a very special spiritual message to me through their prayer, and it has always helped me cope with hard times,” said Marissa.

John knew about home-teachers, but he wasn’t ready to admit it. He just wanted to make sure he heard her right. He moved around the kitchen bar for a quieter conversation, but wasn’t ready to join her at the table. He felt something about her story was going to be important to him, and he didn’t want to miss any of it, but he didn’t want to impose on her. “You’re Mormon, right?” he asked, nonchalantly.

“Yes, we’re called Mormons, but we’re actually members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The term Mormon is a reference to the Book of Mormon, which is an account of the people who lived here long ago. Have you heard of us?” she asked, clearly excited about John’s interest.

“I have,” said John, without leaving a clue about how he heard “So this blessing you got must have been important for you.”

“I always believed blessings are special, but the one I got in the hospital was special because I was unconscious . . . and I didn’t want to come back,” said Marissa.

“Come back?”

Marissa lowered her head. John wasn’t sure if she was deep in thought, or saying a prayer. It didn’t feel right to interrupt her, because he had already done so too many times, so he waited patiently for her to continue. After a short moment, she looked up and spoke in a soft, clear voice. “I was dead John, I left my body and didn’t want to come back. When my home-teacher blessed me, he said things that made me want to come back to my body. I still wasn’t sure though, so an angel brought me back.”

“An angel?” asked John, as he approached the table. “Do you mind if I join you?” He was now very eager to hear her story.

She furrowed her brow curiously and said, “Of course not, it’s your table,” said Marissa, as she studied his face with interest. “I can tell by your reaction that you’re interested in my spiritual experience.”

“You can say that,” said John. “Can you share your story with me? All of it?”

She nodded and continued. “I won’t talk about how I fell into the rapists’ clutches, but while they were raping me I left my body. I slipped completely out of it, John. I know that sounds crazy, and I don’t know how it happened, but I was glad to be out of it because I no longer hurt. I floated up to the corner of the room and saw the two men raping me . . . except they weren’t alone.” Marissa grew silent, contemplative, but not sullen. John thought she was deciding whether or not to continue.

“The men were cruel and ugly, but what I saw when I was out of my body was far worse. The spirits I saw there were even more foul and ugly than the men. They were fighting each other to enter the two men who were raping me. But there was this one spirit . . . I know he was very evil. He was big and ugly . . . their leader or something. He looked up and screamed when he saw that I was out of my body. He reached up for me and I cried out. I screamed and called for the Savior, and the room immediately filled with a blinding white light.” Marissa looked at John to gauge his response, and when she saw that he wasn’t laughing or shaking his head, she continued.

“The evil spirits were gone, and suddenly there was this old man who came running into the room. I don’t know what he said, but he flung the rapists off me like they were rag-dolls, and they ran away. I watched as he covered my body with a blanket. But the strange thing was that he looked up at me as I was floating above him. I was out of my body in the corner of the room, and he could see me. He held up a hand and asked me to come to him, and I did. He guided me back to my body and said that my time on earth was not yet up; that I still had work to do, that I should be strong and brave.

I returned to my injured body, but I don’t remember anything until I woke up in the hospital. It was then that I heard Brother Peterson’s voice. He brought me back. He gave me a blessing that brought me back to consciousness, and blessed me to recover, to regain my health, and to be healed from the physical and emotional abuse I endured. He told me Father knew me personally, and that I was to stand valiant
against evil in the last days. His sweet blessing brought me back to life, John.”

Marissa wiped tears from her eyes and studied John’s face for a reaction. John closed his mouth, realizing that it had been hanging open, and swallowed. He said, “I absolutely believe everything you just told me, Marissa. I absolutely do. Did you have help this time too?”