The Cost

Chapter 12-Guile

"How, then, can they call on the one they have not believed in? And how can they believe in the one of whom they have not heard? And how can they hear without someone preaching to them?" Romans 10:14

Silently, they emerged from the portal, coming over to Wendell. As they helped him limp to the 'mirror', he swiveled his head back to face us. "Well?" he snapped. "Are you coming or what?"

****

It could have been a cavern if it was for the absence of some wood furniture here and there, mostly chairs although there were a few desks. The unpleasant scent outside the room hinted that this was pretty near the sewage system. So, I thought, this is their elaborate hideout. It was similar to the room we had just come from but even more so, with all kinds of technology, computers, and wires around the room in a sort of organized disorder.

"Take 'em to the spare rooms," Wendell ordered roughly as the men let him down in a chair—he was obviously annoyed that he had to be helped so much. He glared at Trish and me. "Don't you dare cause any trouble."

I looked at Trish and we both shrugged.

Though the halls we turned down were lined with small bulbs hanging from the rock ceiling, the spacing between the lights still left the place pretty dim. One masked man led the way while the other trailed behind us, making it feel like we were prisoners being taken in for interrogation or something. Still, I was relieved that even though my first encounter with Wendell hadn't been the greatest, he had still decided to take us in.

Obviously, I couldn't be sure what his intentions were. But for now, the fact that he had known my dad at one point or another seemed to be enough.

David Amotz. I replayed the name over in my mind, wishing I knew the name of my mom as well.

****

Trish and I had rooms right beside each other, both with a TV. Our escorts had given us two mattresses, pillows, and blankets, then left us without a word.

I should have been sleeping, I guess. But even though I was tired, my mind was too active to rest. So there I was, flipping through the channels. I stopped at one as applause was being given for a man on a podium.

"....the man that claimed his god powers are the answer to the issues our society is facing today," the newscaster was saying.

The man's face was calm, and he waited for silence before he spoke: "This has been a season where our society's foundations have been shaken to the core. But I promise you that I'm not about to let this great nation crumble. We are going to rebuild where the enemy has attacked—." More applause and he waited a moment before he continued, "—and we will come out stronger than we ever were before."

"Guile will be speaking at the Star Convention Center tomorrow," the newscaster's voice continued, "with several of our most important community leaders present. He hopes to inspire more people to join him in his mission."

A woman appeared on the screen wearing a bright red jacket, and it was clear from the noise in the background that she was near where the speech was taking place. "I'm telling you, this man is unlike any other I've seen before. He's not like those politicians who promise things and never come through with them. I've seen his power of raising the dead and healing the sick, I've seen his power to make things happen. I'm just saying—and you can call me crazy—but I'm saying that I've seen what he can do, and if he says he's a god then I don't see why he couldn't be."

I raised my eyebrows. So what happened to everyone avoiding talk about God and religion? I thought. Suddenly a man is "God" just because he can perform miracles.

The screen was taken by an elderly man and wisps of his gray-white hair flew around him as he spoke. Tears were in his eyes. "With his own power he raised my daughter from the dead—I saw it. We thought we'd lost her, she was gone. I'm telling you, she was gone. But he saved her and for that I owe him everything. I don't care about those skeptics, I'm following whatever he says...."

I clicked off the TV, sick to my stomach. I yawned, leaning back against the mattress. I wondered if that stupid piece of news would keep me awake.

****

"Jacob."

I sat up, looking around the dark room. I breathed a sigh and fell back against the mattress. Voices in my head again.

"You have to tell them," the voice whispered again before I could fall back asleep.

Immediately I knew what the voice was talking about. "How in the world am I going to get into the Star Convention Center without getting arrested or something? Let alone speaking there!"

"How will they know unless someone tells them...?" the voice faded.

My eyes stayed open for a while. I woke up later and couldn't really decide if what I had heard was a dream or not. A digital clock to my left blinked 7:30 in bright red. I lingered where I was for a while before kicking off the blanket and stepping out into the hall.

I nearly collided into Trish. "You're up early," I told her, remembering how she would always take the opportunity to sleep in if she could help it—even if she had gone to bed at a decent time the night before.

She shrugged. "It's been a habit."

I assumed she was talking about her experience with the kid soldiers training program but I decided not to ask anything more about that. "Trish there's something I need to tell you."

"You mean about the man who claims he's God?" she exclaimed and we froze as echoes of her voice bounced down the hall.

"Well, he isn't," I said. "But I think I got something from the real God...."

Whenever you first tell a dream there are usually details you forget, something you leave out and then remember later. I felt like I covered most of it, though.

She scratched her chin. "So are you going to, like, bust into the convention, push him off the stage and tell everyone that he isn't God?"

I smiled at her enthusiasm, hiding my own nervousness. "Well—,"

Another voice spoke, "I say go for it."

I turned to find Wendell standing there, arms crossed. He shrugged. "If God spoke to you, why not?"

I was so surprised by his reaction I hardly knew how to respond, so I nodded. "I just need to get to where the convention is taking place."

"I'll get you there."

Trish and I exchanged glances. She shrugged and smiled. "I guess it's settled," she said.