Soul Hostage (19 page)

     After a moment of silence, Stoaffer’s re-energized voice broke in, “I can certainly understand your frustration, Thomas.  However, life’s plan doesn’t always present itself to us at once.”

     My head nearly bounced off the wall at his words.  “Are you fucking serious?  Life’s plan?”  A deep breath calmed me down, and I said, “Okay, let’s forget about ‘life’s plan’.”  I added finger quotes for emphasis on my sarcasm.  “And concentrate on a plan for getting the money and getting the hell out of San Pietro.”  

     “I can see his point, Lou,” Joey gave me a look like he was doing me a huge favor by backing me up.  “Do we even know where to find Theresa?”

     Stoaffer was quiet for a second with his head tilted down.  All of a sudden, his head shot up. He grinned and said, “Well, I have a few ideas about where she is.” 

     “You see there, Thomas,” Joey said and looked over at me hopeful that I would be pleased with the response, “Lou, has a few ideas about where this bitch might be!”

     I flashed an insincere smile at Joey and then asked, “Terrific!  We might be able to find her… but we have no idea what we’re gonna do after we find her.”

      I grew more irritated as I faced the blank expressions

     Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of Stoaffer as he sprang to his feet.  In an instant, he was standing right in front of me.  He stood above me glaring down.  The fury he struggled to hold inside caused his whole body to tremble like the rattle on a snake. He spat the words from his mouth, “A plan!  Is that what concerns you so much, Thomas?  What was your plan when you went into that grocery store?  How about the plan to steal the principal’s car and cruise?  That was a great plan!”  Stoaffer sneered at my shock at his mentioned of my high school prank, and my eyes watered at the smell of his rancid-smelling breath.  “Sounds to me like none of your plans  worked out too well!” 

     “Take it easy, Lou,” Joey said with clear concern.  “Yer gonna have a stroke or somethin’.”

      I was still trying to figure out how he knew about stealing the high school principal’s car when Stoaffer took a deep breath and then turned away from me. Joey shot me murderous look as he moved next to Louis ready to help if needed.   

     I am not quite sure how to describe what happened next. Everything seemed to go faster than possible.  In one second, Louis and Joey were standing a couple of yards away from me.  Then in the next second before the last sounds of my words were out, Stoaffer’s face pushed to within inches of my nose.  His red, wrinkled face with its twisted smirk took up my entire view. 

     My eyes teared up at the stench of his breath as he spoke, “Thomas, I am thrilled by your dedication to success!” His sarcasm was solid and unmistakable, but it faded into a sincere smile.  “We arrived at the outline of a basic plan.  First, we locate Theresa. Second, my wife and I spend a few intimate moments getting reacquainted.  Third, Joey has a revealing conversation with her,” Louis paused to let Joey bask in the pride of having his name mentioned before continuing.  “Fourth, we collect my belongings of value.  And last but in no way least, we get the hell out of San Pietro.”  He moved back from me and watched my reaction.

     “Sounds like a plan to me!”  Joey exclaimed.  “How ‘bout it, Thomas?  We got a plan, right?”

     Once again, I found myself driven along by Joey’s  enthusiasm.  “Yes, Joey, we got a plan,” I answered and could not keep from smiling. My smile had a short life as it died the instant I caught sight of Stoaffer’s wide grin. 

     I was trying to come with some great sarcastic comments to direct at the old man, but everything vanished as soon as he spoke, “So it’s settled!  We have a plan!”  Louis stared directly into my eyes and continued, “In the morning, we will start with the first step.  Always the best place to start!  ‘We locate Theresa’.  For all we know, she may still be in the old house.  We may be worrying unnecessarily about finding her. Having a look at the house where we shared our illusion of wedded bliss would be a good place to start.”  At his mention of
wedded bliss
, Stoaffer’s grin trembled a little.

     I was not trying to be a wet blanket, but certain facts were worth considering. I said, “I don’t know, Louis.  You’ve been away for a long time.  Do you truly believe she’d stay in the same house?”  I looked at Joey for some interest in my question.  Instead, I got only a full sigh.

     “It’s okay, Joey.  A certain amount of skepticism is healthy.”  Stoaffer’s words appeared to please Joey.  “Considering your name, Thomas, I would expect nothing less.”  He smiled at my blank expression.  “You do know the story of your biblical namesake, don’t you?”

     I flashed an exaggerated smile and answered, “I’m not sure that I do.  Why don’t you tell us a bedtime story, Uncle Lou?”

     Joey shot me another stern expression. But after a moment, Stoaffer sort of giggled, and Joey joined in the laughter.  “Well, it’s a story about having faith.  Thomas was one of Jesus’ disciples.  By all accounts, the most skeptical of the bunch.  At the Last Supper, when Jesus told those in attendance he would go to prepare a place for them in the heaven and they should follow, Thomas questioned how anyone could follow him without knowing where he was going or the way to get there.”  Joey snickered, and Louis gave him a warm smile.  “After Jesus got crucified, Thomas became separated from his fellow disciples.  He wasn’t around when Jesus came back to life and appeared to the others.   When others told him about the revival of the messiah, Thomas said he would not believe it until he saw the nail marks in his hands and touched the wounds.   A bit of well-deserved skepticism it seems to me.  Anyway, a few days later during dinner, Jesus suddenly appeared among the group.  Naturally, Thomas was shocked and probably more than a bit frightened.  Jesus stood before Thomas and opened his robes-“

     “Jesus was a flasher!”  Joey cried out with boyish delight and snickered playfully.  “Didja know Jesus was a flasher, Thomas?”

     I shook my head and started to respond but stopped when Stoaffer said, “You certainly bring a new view to an old story, Joey.  But I was going to say, Jesus opened his robes to reveal his wounds.  He told Thomas to touch his wounds and to stop doubting and believe.  So this is how we came up with the expression ‘doubting Thomas’.”  

     The room was quiet for a second as Stoaffer’s words trailed off.  Finally, I remarked, “Well, thanks for sharing, Louis.  Now,  we should get some sleep, so we’re ready for a day of staking out your old house.” 

     Both Joey and Louis showed clear happiness at hearing my suggestion and took it as a sign of enthusiasm for the plan.  We headed down the dark hallway to the room where the mattresses waited.  I plopped down on the mattress where I had taken my nap and fell asleep in an instant.

     In my dream, the words of Stoaffer’s story echoed through darkness.  But the words came from another voice.  I did not recognize the voice at first.  Then it came to me.  The screechy voice belonged to the skinny little woman from Sunday school at Tabernacle Baptist Church.  With my recognition, the darkness lit up and revealed the cramped room with the brightly-colorful Biblical scenes on the walls. 

     “…Thomas would not believe until he touched the wounds for himself.  He did not have the faith necessary to trust the word of Jesus without proof.  He was a doubter.”  The venom of her words seemed directed at me and was punctuated by spittle flying from her mouth.  “Thomas needed more proof!  The word of Jesus, the son of God, the one true savior whose pure love rescues us from the eternal flames of damnation!  His promise did not satisfy doubting Thomas!”  

     Her words seemed to hang in the air even as a chorus of voices joined them.  The voices came from the children chanting as if repeating a nursery rhyme.  “Thomas is a doubter!  Doubting Thomas! Doubting Thomas!  Thomas is a doubter!  Doubting Thomas! Doubting Thomas!  Thomas is a doubter!  Doubting Thomas! Doubting Thomas!” The chanting continued and became more and more like jeers and taunts.  In the middle of all these sounds, I found myself surrounded by a spinning ring of the children I vaguely remembered from my Sunday school class. I caught sight of a bucktooth girl with long brown hair braided into pigtails tied at the ends with dark red ribbons.  Next to her was a tall thin boy in a dark blue with matching slacks and a dark red bow tie at the neck of his white shirt.  Also there was a chubby redheaded little girl with a swarm of freckles dotting her pale cheeks wearing a loose, drab black dress, which set off her fiery red hair. “Thomas is a doubter! Doubting Thomas! Doubting Thomas!” 

     The chanting bounced around my head until the sound seemed to be coming from everywhere.  I gawked at the spinning faces trying to find a way to stop them.  I pleaded.  I cried. Finally, I screamed, and the noise freed me from the room at the back of the Tabernacle Baptist Church. 

     I did not recognize my surroundings as the bedroom in the abandoned house in San Pietro straightaway. The gray light of early morning against the blinds gave the room a faint, hazy glow.   I lay there staring up at the ceiling still shaking from the images of the dream.  The room was silent, and I thought I was alone.  Some slight movement in the far corner caught my eye, and I suddenly saw Stoaffer leaning against the wall watching me.  But it was not the casual stance of someone just hanging out until someone woke up. He was clearly anxious.  I recalled the impression I had of him back in the grocery store. Even though that day felt like it was years ago, I remembered first seeing the little old man trembling like some speed freak.  Now the image returned as I saw Stoaffer practically vibrating and fidgeting with his hands.

     As soon as he saw my open eyes, Stoaffer smiled wide and bright.  “Good morning!  We’ve been waiting for you to wake up.”  If the whole thing had not been so odd, I would have laughed out loud as he bounced around the room like some hyperactive rabbit. Instead, I watched silently.  Louis came to rest for a moment right in front of me before spinning and bouncing out of the room.  I stayed still for a few seconds trying to make sure I was awake before rolling off the mattress and getting to my feet.  I listened to the laughter and smell of cooking food coming from the kitchen.  It seemed inviting, and I headed toward the kitchen like a moth to a light.

     Inside the kitchen, Louis and Joey stood in front of the large white stove. A lively discussion was taking place about whatever was in the frying pan in front of them. The bright mood lit up the kitchen and brought a smile to my face as I walked up next to them. 

     “What’s cookin’?”  I asked.                                                        

     My question produced a loud outburst of howling laughter which echoed through the kitchen.  Although the laughs held no genuine happiness, I felt irritated at being left out of the joke.  So I pushed closer to get a better view of  the pan on the stove. I gasped for air and my stomach jumped into my throat when I saw what the pan held.

     In the middle of the large frying pan with sizzling oil all around was a bloody newborn baby.  The baby began to shriek  and squirm around. 

     “Well, look at that! Her mother had it right!”  Stoaffer exclaimed with a chuckle and another wave of laughter boomed through the kitchen.

     I spun away from the horrible sight of the frying pan.  As I turned, I faced the pale form of the grocery store clerk.  She stood barefoot and draped in a pale green hospital gown.  Her long, straight black hair hung limply on either side of her deathly-white face.  Louis and Joey blocked her vision of the stove, but I realized she would soon discover her baby in the frying pan. Preventing her from reaching the stove became the most important thing in my life. I quickly moved to block the path. I stood a few feet away as her eyes locked with mine.  We stood frozen like this for a short time. Then her eyes trailed downward.  My eyes followed hers until they stopped at her thighs just below the hospital gown.  After a second, a thin red trail began to snake its way down her leg to her feet and on to the ivory-colored tile floor.  As I watched, the thin red trail widened until it became a gushing stream of blood.  My eyes shot up from the blood on the floor to the young woman’s face.  The beaming smile I found  made the horror of the scene ten times greater.  A long high-pitched shriek broke out from my throat.  

    I needed a minute to recognize my surroundings as the bedroom in the abandoned house in San Pietro.  The gray light of early morning against the blinds gave the room a faint, hazy glow.   Still shaking from the traces of the dream, I stared up at the ceiling. With some difficulty, I managed to push the images and thoughts far from the center of my mind concentrated on the present situation. 

     I thought of all the things which had happened over the last few days to lead me to this place. In the incredibly short time since meeting Louis Stoaffer, my life had been thrown into a swirling pool of confusion where every-thing felt unreal. But that was not really the weirdest part. Even with all the strangeness that old man had brought with him, I could not ignore the feeling that I had met him somewhere before.  In some crazy way, it felt like he had always been a part of my life. I let that disturbing notion sink in for a minute. Suddenly, another idea forced a path through the swamp of thoughts seeping around my head. 

     I should simply get up, walk to the car, and drive away from all of this. Leave Louis Stoaffer and Joey far behind.      The pocket of my pants held the car keys. A sense of relief and freedom swept over me. I pictured myself smiling as I gazed into the rearview mirror at the stunned faces of Joey and Louis as they came out of the house to see the Chevy pulling away.  Driving away would be so easy. After all, nothing was forcing me to go along with Stoaffer’s scheme. 

     All my life I had been going along with schemes. Trouble was all it had gotten me.  Maybe it was time for me to stop
going along
and set off on my own.  Forget the promise of money.  Some things were worth more than money.  This last crazy thought nearly made me laugh out loud.