Inside Lucifer's War (3 page)

As I think about the things I have seen, including my hideous reflection, so many questions run through my head again. Why was I rotting if I were not dead? What did the verse mean about the wages of sin being death? We all die, right? Even those who are good will die. Were the creatures skittering about really dead persons? What about my father? If Lucifer owned the sting of death, did he put my father through what I am going through? Why am I here? If I am not dead, why did he bring me here?

My mind searches for answers from an unlikely place: the Bible. Since I know he quoted a verse, my mind gravitates to that book. In many of my philosophical arguments, I attempted to discredit the Bible and on some occasions used it to advance my own arguments, so I am familiar with it. My dad tried to teach it to me when I was young, but I didn’t follow his guidance. To help me get grounded, I try now to recall what I know. Some of those stories may have had a hint of truth or at least should give me some basic understanding. As with all mythology, there is some hint of truth to it, I tell myself.

He returns as quickly and as silently as he left.

“Am I in hell, then?” I ask.

“Hell? You people have no understanding of hell. No. We’re in your apartment,” he says.

I stand stunned and confused.

Several creatures approach him and discuss something, but I can’t understand what is said. They speak in a language that sounds like Hebrew, but it is not. When he turns, the creatures dissolve into the cave walls. He looks at me again.

“I have big plans for you, Thomas.”

C
HAPTER 3

A Reflection

In a gentle voice, he says, “I chose you for a reason, Dr. Thomas Fields. You have great intellectual potential—greater than any other present-day writer or philosopher. That may come as a surprise to you, but you have been given an extraordinary talent, and I plan to cultivate that talent to your ends and to mine.”

Physically and mentally exhausted, I strain to look up at him. I see his shape is changing. He is taking on the form of a man. He turns into a handsome man, slightly over six feet tall. He has dark, smooth hair with a hint of gray in the sideburns. His skin is tan, with only slight wrinkles in his face. His eyes are piercing blue, and he has strong facial features. His smile seems genuinely appealing.

“This appearance should be more comfortable for you,” he says, noticing my apparent confusion at his transformation. “You will find approval in these as well.” Suddenly I am clothed in khaki slacks, oxford shoes, and a polo shirt.

When he sees that I am beginning to relax, he gives me a stern warning, “Let’s be very clear, Thomas. Do you now understand who I am and the pain that I can mete out to you? You might be protected from death now, but I still have many latitudes on your health. That’s not what I want for you, but I can’t have you thinking you are not bound by me.”

“I understand the power you have over me,” I say sheepishly. “Please don’t hurt me again. I’m still very confused, but I know you can do terrible things to me. Please, Prince.”

My arrogance and pride are gone. I have felt little more than pain and agony the last few hours with him, and all I know is, I don’t want it to continue. I choose the name Prince though, as something inside me prevented me from allowing him to lord anything over me with the name Master, and the idea that he is my teacher is revolting. Besides, I believe he will like me addressing him as Prince.

“Good,” he says. “That’s a start. I am Lucifer. As difficult as it is for you to believe, you will serve yourself well by understanding that sooner rather than later. There are spiritual beings throughout the world and beyond. We are superior to humans in every possible way. I am his greatest creation.”

“His?” I ask. “Then there
is
a God? Is he the God of the Bible?”

“The God of Abraham, Jacob, and David,” he replies with annoyance. “Look at yourself, though. You are not worthy of him. You are a shame to him. Disgusting and revolting, as you are to me. However, I can find a purpose in you. A redemption, if you will. Elijah could not look upon God’s glory. What do you think he would do to something like you? Not only have you abused yourself, you have destroyed his other creations. Look…”

At this, he holds up his index finger, which has a long fingernail, and splits apart the cave wall. The wall seems to be nothing but a curtain being drawn open, and before my eyes, a play unfolds. However, it is no play. As the image becomes clearer to me, I can tell the scene is real life. A young woman sits still in a bathtub. I don’t recognize her at first, but her face gradually grows clearer. It is Josephine.

She was a brilliant student who last spring asked me to be her thesis adviser. She was overly impressed and infatuated with me and my work. She hung on my every word and every speech and paper I had written. I allowed her to accompany me to New York for an awards ceremony and interview. She handled the details of the trip. During the trip, our relationship went from professional to personal—and sexual. She was certainly attractive, but I was not in love with her. As with so many other women, our relationship for me was one of convenience. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time—after I had knocked back some drinks and was filled with pride with my many accomplishments. I should have ended it after the trip, but I didn’t. It, she, was too convenient, so I allowed it to go on for a while. At some point she fell in love, but of course I never did. Ultimately, I crushed her. I ruined her life in a matter of months.

She didn’t look like herself in the bathtub. I recalled her as vibrant. Excitement poured out of her. I recalled an attractive smile and dimpled cheeks. She had short, curly auburn hair that bounced as she moved. She was fit and strong. But the woman I saw in the tub, though definitely Josephine, was not the same woman. Her face was pale. Her hair was longer, and her curls were relaxed. She had been crying. Her face and eyes were puffy.

“Do you remember how it ended with the two of you?” Lucifer asks.

“Yes,” I told him.

“No,” he quickly replies. “You think you know how it ended, but you don’t know how it really ended. You were having dinner with some colleagues and Cynthia Davis, your new romantic interest, when she confronted you. She tried to get you to step outside to talk, but you preferred to embarrass her in front of an audience. A brilliant close tactic I might add. To your guests you described her as ‘an infatuated student looking for a quality paper in the bedroom instead of the library.’ You mocked her in front of everyone. When her temper flared, you asked the maître d’ to escort her out, telling her that she needed to get affection from her father. She begged you, “Why are you doing this? Please don’t do this. This isn’t you.” People laughed at her. Do you remember that? The father angle was perfect, especially since she confided in you that her father had been abusive.”

I was drunk that night, so I did not recall the details. It was easier to be drunk and forget than to be sober and responsible for my actions. I knew that I had ended it that night, but I couldn’t recall my words. The details were painful to hear. He could tell from my body language that I didn’t like listening to it.

“Oh, it gets better.” He smiles at me as he continues, “It ended that night for you. You probably didn’t think any more about it. In fact, you were happy that it was over. No more Josephine and her love to cramp your style. My disciples helped you with that. She took it a bit harder, though. My disciples also have been helping with that. Coaxing it along like embers to a fire. She built up the courage to talk to her father tonight. I often find it strange that humans seek validation from the individuals who stripped it from them. She tried to speak with him, but he wanted nothing to do with her. You see, he is a self-absorbed drunk too. Sound familiar? The final straw broke for her with that phone call. Tonight should culminate in a victory for us. All of us. Including you, Thomas. Watch!”

I can see the picture clearly now. She is holding a razor blade and sobbing.

“Dear God. No!” I blurt out.

Suddenly I feel a terrible blow across my face, and I find myself looking up from the ground.

“You insolent fool!” he yells.

Josephine puts the razor to her wrist, presses it to her skin, then hesitates and throws it out of the bathroom. She holds her face in her hands and cries. She doesn’t cut herself. A sense of enormous relief comes over me. This is the first moment I recall that I saw and appreciated the destruction I have caused.

Lucifer looks angrily at me. He grabs my wrists, burning them with his hands as he pulls me up. “That is twice you have spoken out to him. The third time will be to your own destruction.”

He looks back at the scene and allows the cave to close over it. “No fear. She will be mine soon enough. She has no one else.”

He looks at someone in the darkness and gestures. Although I cannot see the individual, I can see a figure move out of sight.

He turns back to me. “Your destruction gets better though. Cynthia was married while you were involved with her. The marriage thing, though, wasn’t even a minor inconvenience for you. Of course, it’s not like that was the first time for you. Marriage. Who believes in that relic of an institution? It is written, is it not, ‘Marriage should be honored by all, and the marriage bed kept pure, for God will judge the adulterer and all the sexually immoral.’”

At those words, more hissing echoed in the cave.

“Do you understand how foul you are now—the depth of your wretchedness? Do you understand the judgment you have incurred and the judgment you have placed on Cynthia? You haven’t only ruined your life, but so many other lives around you—lives that, for some reason, he cares about. You are fortunate I do not accuse you in front of him right now. I, however, don’t hold you to such high standards. I see your true nature and understand it. You are not made to worship, but to be worshiped,” he tells me.

I feel a pain in my chest. For my entire adult life, I hadn’t cared about anyone but myself. It has always been about me. I used people to get what I wanted and needed. I have never considered myself evil or bad, though, until this moment. After all, everyone is out for themselves, right? If you don’t take what is yours, then somebody else will take it. Everyone is looking to leverage everyone else. At least, this is what I believed or convinced myself to believe, beginning as a teenager. My parents were meek and mild mannered. They were content in life, too content. They should have wanted so much more. They should have demanded so much more. People often took advantage of their kindness and generosity. My dad could have been rich and powerful, but he never pursued it. In my mind, he was afraid, afraid to go after what was his.

I suddenly recall a Bible verse that my dad had read to me when I was younger: “If someone strikes you on one cheek, turn to him the other also. If someone takes your cloak, do not stop him from taking your tunic.”

The last time my dad told me that story, he had been passed over for a foreman position because a coworker lied and took credit for dad’s work. They had a discussion in my school parking lot. Dad had come to pick me up after baseball practice. The other man had come to pick up his son, who was also my age. I remember sitting in the back of the car and watching the whole thing. I had known what had happened at dad’s work, and I was waiting for this moment. Dad was a big man, and he could be very intimidating if you didn’t know him. He approached Bob Wickerman and said, “Bob, I want to talk with you about that promotion at work.” I could see Mr. Wickerman didn’t want to talk about it, and he turned to walk off. Dad yelled a little louder, “Bob!”

Mr. Wickerman turned around and pointed his finger at Dad. “I know what you’re going to say, so you can just save it. I deserved that promotion as much as anyone. I may have taken more credit than I deserved for the Shatson project, but others had done the same thing to me. It was my turn, David! It was my turn! I’m sorry it came at your expense, but sometimes that’s how it has to be. I never meant to hurt you.”

Here it was! Dad was going to let him have it. Mr. Wickerman was a short, slim man, and there was no doubt that Dad could put him in a hospital. And I was going to get to see all of it, and the next day, I was going to walk proudly by Mr. Wickerman’s son, and he would be ashamed to even look at me.

But that’s not what happened. I couldn’t believe what I saw. Dad reached out his hand.

“Congratulations, Bob. I wanted to let you know that I do wish you had gotten the job under different circumstances, but there are no hard feelings on my part. I will do everything I can to support you. You know my work and you know my ethics. If I work for you, I’ll give you everything I have, and I hope you will treat me fairly. Congratulations. I’ll pray for your success.

I was sick. How could he let that snake get away with it? In my eyes, Dad was a coward.
I’ll pray for your success.
That was the lamest thing I had ever heard. I couldn’t hold my tongue when Dad got into the car.

“How could you do that, Dad? That man stole your job, your promotion, and your money. Don’t let him get away with it! Don’t you care about your family? your reputation? Are you scared of him?”

He smiled at me and recited the verse, “If someone strikes you on one cheek . . . ” He then said, “Son, what he did was wrong, and he knows that. I need to show him by example of what God intended for all of us. Hate in response to deception will only breed more evil. Today, I pleased the One who matters. Someday you will understand. Every one of us has a master to serve. I refuse to let money be my master. The question is, who will be your master?”