Solomon's Porch (13 page)

“And?”

“And he wanted me to be sure to tell you that all is well, God is pleased. As I said, he remembers you always. His message for me was a bit different. I am to be cautious, to go slow, and rely on you, Peter. Now, I’ve had the same dreams all of you have, I get the general picture as to why we are here. Gabriel said he wanted me to be aware that I am vulnerable and that I will be attacked. I’m not completely sure what that means, but it has to be true.”

“We will take the good angel’s advice and watch you closely, Kenny,” Peter said, already fully intending to do just that regardless of Gabriel’s instructions. “One more question. You said that you worked as an interpreter in Miami. What languages do you speak other than English?”

“All of them.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard right, all of them.”

“Brother,” Peter was trying to be as open and as positive as possible, “how can that be? No one on earth can speak every language.”

“Wrong. I can. After I came back to life in that bar in Key West I soon realized I had been given this gift. Over the years I’d picked up some Spanish, French, Aramaic, and Hebrew, clearly I had an aptitude for it, but I never studied any of them seriously. Now? Well, as best as I can describe it, the Lord has turned me into sort of a ‘universal translator.’ Ever see
Star Trek?
I’m a human form of that little machine they carried around so they could talk to the aliens.”

“What about reading and writing? How many lang … ”

“All of them.”

“Should have guessed.”

Before they had any more time to explore this latest twist, an out of breath and freaked out Gail McCorkle ran up to the porch.

“What in the world are you boys doing out here?” Gail asked, managing to speak in between gulps of air. “Do you have any idea what’s going on inside? In the kitchen, the deep fryer exploded. Then every knife in the place starts flying around, thirty of them are now stuck in the ceiling. Black slime is oozing out from all the toilets, and I just had a man tell me his name was Artemus and he asked me where his legion was encamped.”

“Saul?” Peter asked, needing an evaluation quickly from his expert.

“Well, you didn’t think they came here just for the view, did you? Trouble follows them, that’s what they do. I’d say we’re very lucky no one’s been killed.”

“Then don’t say we’re lucky,” Gail interjected.

“Good Lord! Who? Let me go to him.” Peter felt a stirring in his soul, the Power was awakening.

“It’s the new guy, the other new guy. Lawrence Coleman. He said he was tired after his orientation. He took a shower and went to bed. Some inmates found him lying on the floor in his cube. He’s dead. Was he one of yours, Peter?”

“Kenny? You know this man, right?” Peter asked.

“Can’t be, Peter. Can’t be,” Kenny said, shaking his head. “He is definitely one of us, one of the circle. We met last night at the motel. He is, he was, an extraordinary person. I haven’t even had the chance to tell you about him. How can he be dead? What does that mean?”

Malik and Saul were wondering the same thing. Coleman’s death definitely didn’t fit.

“What’s up with the demons, Saul? Are they still in the area?”

“No, Peter. They are gone. I don’t think anyone else is in immediate danger.”

“Good, then take me to Coleman. Quickly, we may not have much time.”

Nine

Dorm number one at Parkersboro houses a hundred men whose living quarters are arranged in cubicles that hold three inmates each. It’s very much like a standard white collar open office arrangement, difference being in a federal prison camp this area is not where you work, it’s where you sleep. Inside each cube are three beds, a small desk, and three lockers.

At the front of the dorm, near its only general entrance and bathroom, is an area the inmates call “the beach.” Unlike its counterpart in the free world, the beach at Parkersboro is anything but desirable real estate, because all of the dorm’s foot traffic is, by design, forced to travel through it. The beach is the noisiest and least peaceful place to live. Its beds are reserved for newcomers, and for those few prisoners who refuse to pay their court-ordered restitution.

The former Mr. Lawrence Coleman was lying motionless on the floor four rows back in the ‘beach sand,’ his eyes wide open and mouth agape as if something had taken him by surprise. As the warden and her entourage approached, the small crowd that had gathered around the body moved slightly aside.

“We called the Georgetown EMTs, Peter,” Gail explained. “They are en route, but I’m afraid there isn’t anything they can do. Listen to me. I know dead when I see it. This man has been gone for a while, at least half an hour. I’m very sorry.”

Peter closed his eyes, but said nothing at first. He tried to empty his mind, to rid himself of any conscious thoughts. He was preparing his spirit and his body to become a pure conduit for God’s Uncreated Energy.

“Everyone, please, give us some room here.” That Peter, and not the warden, was barking orders struck no one in the dorm as odd other than Kenny.

“Peter, what are you going to do?” Gail asked this question so that she might offer some assistance to her friend, not to try and restrain an inmate.

“Clear the dorm, Warden. No one should be in here except you, me, Malik, Saul, and Kenny. Please, do it now.”

Without hesitation Warden McCorkle did as she was asked. By the time everyone had been removed, they could hear the approaching ambulance’s siren wailing in the distance.

As Peter knelt over Lawrence Coleman and began to pray, a strange sensation was felt by all present. Later Gail McCorkle described it as “a surge, an energy pulse passing through my body.”

Everyone blessed to be present in dorm number one that afternoon also saw the same thing. A white light, more of a “glow” according to the witnesses, surrounded Peter Carson as he began to minister to Larry.

Peter’s prayers were silent for a couple of minutes. Then he spoke. “My friends, do you believe that Christ is the resurrection and the life, and that he who believes in Him though he may die, he shall live?”

On one accord they all answered “yes.” Kenny recognized the close parallel between Peter’s question and Christ’s words as recorded in the eleventh chapter of Luke.
Fitting,
he thought, since in that passage Lazarus is raised. Was Peter Carson about to do what only Christ, His Apostles, and a few saints have been able to do? Restore life to the dead?

Despite the miracles that each of the witnesses had already seen and experienced, bringing back the dead seemed extreme, perhaps impossible. Yet they did believe, using the measure of faith God had given them, a measure that was being increased by the second.

The white glow that had formed around Peter suddenly extended itself from his person upward, opening a hole in the roof with its brilliance. As it did, a sound erupted like a hundred cathedral bells, all being rung simultaneously. It was both stunning and deafening, like being hit directly by a thunder clap. No one could remain standing, the witnesses all dropped to their knees. The Power was so intense it enveloped the small group, temporarily rendering each of them unable to speak or move. That they could still hear and see what was happening was one of the greatest gifts God could ever give them.

Then Peter began to speak again, but now with an authority and eloquence beyond his human capabilities.

“Lord, I know that you always hear me, but because of the people who are standing by, I say thank you Father, thank you for loving us, protecting us, and allowing us always to be Your servants.

“Lawrence, get up.”

As placidly as if he was waking from a casual afternoon nap Larry Coleman sat up, stretched out his arms and yawned. He seemed oblivious to the fact that he had been dead. While saying nothing at first, the look on his face was telling enough; without a doubt he had no idea why all these people were on their knees surrounding him.

The white glow now began to dissipate, melting away first from around Peter and then moving upward. When it reached the ceiling, the “hole” in the roof disappeared and a sound like two giant steel doors slamming shut reverberated throughout the dorm.

When the Power was completely gone, Peter collapsed. Gail and Saul rushed to his side. Quickly they determined that Peter was breathing regularly and that both his pulse and his color were normal. Peter was simply asleep and would remain so for almost the next twenty-four hours.

“He is exhausted, nothing more. Saul, why don’t you and Malik take him to his bed? Do not be afraid, all is well. Panos has been touched in a way few men ever have, by the very essence of the living God. In a short time he will recover.”

Coming up from behind them, the Georgetown EMT crew had finally arrived. The one speaking was a white man, about thirty or so, with light brown, curly hair.

The other two EMTs stood by and looked at each other as if they had been listening to gibberish. They had no idea who this mystery medic was or what he was doing there. This mattered not, because a second later, after Gabriel passed his hand over them and spoke a few words in Aramaic, they had forgotten all of the events of the past fifteen minutes and busied themselves attending to a still quite confused Larry Coleman.

“They won’t remember a thing, will they Gabriel?” Saul asked, already knowing the answer.

“No, Saul, they will not. It is not time yet for the world to know.”

“When will it be, Gabriel? I mean, I’m not tryin’ to speedball the Lord or nothin’, but it don’t seem like we’re doin’ a whole lotta good for Him stuck here in this play pen. If the Good Lord will pardon me for axin’.” Malik was only verbalizing what everyone else was also thinking.

“Kenneth, what does it say in Ecclesiastes, chapter eight verses five and six?” Gabriel asked.

“You mean specifically about Malik’s question?”

“Yes.”

“Let me see. Okay, I think I get it. ‘A wise man’s heart discerns both time and judgment, because for every matter there is a time and judgment.’”

“Exactly. That is your answer. Trust in the Lord. Watch and pray. He will never leave you or forsake you.”

Having done what he came to do, the angel of the Lord then turned and began to walk away.

“Wait!” Gail shouted. She had been patiently watching with both fascination and awe, but now she was desperate to speak with Gabriel.

“Gail McCorkle, dear and faithful woman. You want to ask something of me?”

“Yes sir, I mean Gabriel. Forgive me, I … ”

“I cannot forgive anyone. Remember, it is men who will judge the angels.”

“I’m sorry. Oh my. Second time in my life I’ve been tongue tied,” Gail admitted, doing her best to gather her thoughts in a storm of emotion. “I need to say thank you, Gabriel. Thank you for helping Carrie.”

“Dear woman, I go where I am needed and do as I am commanded. Your niece is very special, she has many gifts. It’s God you should thank, not his messenger.”

“I did that.”

“I know.”

“Gabriel, I’m not sure what to do anymore. Do I set these men free? I mean, I feel like such a bad person keeping them in prison. Peter says he’ll tell me when it’s time to act, and God knows how much I love and trust that man. I just, just tell me Gabriel, am I doing right? Is God pleased with me?”

“Are you doing what Peter asks, always and without question?”

“Always.”

“Then God is pleased. There will come a time, dear woman, when God will ask you to do much more. Are you ready to serve?”

“Yes, Gabriel. I am ready.”

“I believe that you are. Ask Kenneth what Christ said in the book of John, fifteenth chapter, thirteenth verse. Be ready for that, Gail McCorkle, and God will be pleased.”

For a second Gail turned her head to try and get Kenny’s attention, but seeing that he was still attending to Larry she switched back to Gabriel.

But Gabriel was gone.

The two Georgetown EMTs finished checking out Lawrence Coleman who they pronounced to be in perfect health. They left wondering why they were called.

A few minutes later, once the situation had sufficiently settled down, Gail took Kenny aside.

“Mr. Simpson, would you please tell me what it says in the book of John, fifteenth chapter, thirteenth verse?”

“Hmm,” Kenny mumbled, not sure how he should respond. “Why, if I may ask, ma’am, do you want to know that particular verse?”

“Gabriel said it would tell me what to do, what I need to do to please God and protect Peter.”

Kenny Simpson had been a prisoner of the United States for less than twelve hours. In that time he’d witnessed things many prophets and saints had yearned to, or feared, but had never seen. Head spinning stuff, both fantastic and inspiring. That he was unsure of himself at the moment was understandable.

Now his jailor, who treated him more like a brother, was asking him a very delicate question. His first instinct was to put her off and talk to Peter about it when he woke up.

“Maybe we should wait on that one, Warden, until … ”

“Mr. Simpson, you tell me what that verse says this very instant!” This was an order, not a suggestion.