Mormon Blood

Mormon Salvation

No other preparation was needed. He left the house and arrived at the appointed spot kitty corner to the temple, his hands red and slippery on the wheel of the truck. News crews were not yet there. No one was, just the morning traffic coming and going from the temple on the other side of the street. Classes must have just ended as he could see the scurrying students down on campus and the traffic was heavy, students moving from class to class. Strange how a college campus can be dead one minute and bustling full the next. Being near the temple of the Lord pumped him up as he stood awkwardly waiting, leaning against the stoplight pole. He rehearsed the exact words he would say, with a rhythmic compulsion, rubbing his right hand against his pant leg which was becoming damp. He tried to keep his increased shaking under control.

At 9:30 the white Channel 8 van pulled up and parked on the side of the street behind him, stopping near the edge of the cut wheat field. Peter was surprised and realized that he had not trusted them to show up. Miss Perez was the first to emerge, exiting the passenger side, staring at Peter with worry and concern. She had a rare, Latina beauty, giant brown eyes. As quickly as possible in her red high heels, she approached Peter. The cameraman jumped out and busied himself with equipment. Both seemed hurried.

"Peter, is that you?"

"Yes. Miss Perez? Pleased to meet you."

She offered her hand to shake, but he could not reach out his own, conscious of blood.

"Peter are you OK? Do you need help? You look terrible. You've got blood all over you. "

"No, I'm ready to go. The world needs me, and I've never been better. I tripped on the pavement on the way here and cut up my hands. Are we ready? I mean, we've got the go ahead to shoot this video.I don't think any of the other channels are coming. Looks like you get the scoop." He grinned weakly. "But this will go viral. I guarantee it Miss Perez. You'll be famous."

"Yeah, I saw your stuff online. I must admit Peter, it all sounds very strange."

"God is strange Miss Perez. You actually searched my stuff, huh? Great. I know it's kind of goofy, but I wanted to get word out however I could. Was it effective?"

Miss Perez ignored the question. Students and other passersby lingered, trying to see what was going on, a small crowd forming. Miss Perez leaned in close to Peter. Her concern was obvious, and Peter had an inkling of how he must look. But part of his high was like a narcotic, dulling the pain, eliminating fear about his condition.

"You look like you need medical attention. You're a wreck."

"Oh, it's nothing. I'll fix it up when we're done. I'm ready. Can we get on with it?"

"Hang on a minute. I have to chat with my producer real quick."

As she walked back towards the van, he called lamely to her "I'm fine Miss Perez." Near the van, she whipped out her iPhone, punched buttons, made the call. Peter was still struck by here face, so perfect. He felt conspicuous standing there with the people staring at him, asking him questions. At least twenty people had gathered, the cameraman in front of Peter, setting up his tripod with quick habitual movements. Miss Perez paced back and forth, phone to her ear. Peter worked his thumb in the palm of his left hand. Fresh blood wet his hand. He tried to ignore the people. "Are you in trouble, dude?" "What's going on?" "Were you hit by a car? Those crazy students go too darn fast through here."

Miss Perez returned to Peter's relief.

"Look Peter, my producer said we could shoot the piece if you will agree to let us take you to a hospital right after we are done."

"Hospital? Why? There's no need for that. I'll probably be dead anyway."

"You freak me out Peter with that kind of talk. You aren't going to die. That's how it has to go down or we're not doing it."