Glen WisemanChapter 14
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In the dark, the cold sucked the warmth from Glen as he lay on the ground near the edge of the woods. The ground had begun to give up its heat at the end of September as nights cooled down. By the end of October, the ground was cold. Lying upon it, the ground felt like ice. The night air was chill, the faint breeze cut through his clothes making him even more miserable. He shivered, but did his best not to make noise.
The past two days had been more exhausting than a human being should have to experience. He had made the funeral arrangements for Cliff. Spaces for parking twenty cars behind Cliff’s house had taken him hours to clear. He had taken care of the twins and CJ, none of whom wanted to leave his side. Last night, he had written an editorial for the next edition of the magazine that explained what happened when narrow minded people decided that you were evil. The hardest thing to deal with had been the press. Gathering in town like vultures circling a dead cow, they wouldn’t leave him alone.
The funeral had lasted longer than expected and was very well attended. Even the twins were surprised by how many people knew Cliff and liked him. Oliver and his whole family had shown up. Just about every customer that he had ever helped in the store was there. After a request from the pastor of the church, they had decided to give people a chance to get up and tell a story about Cliff. The number of stories about how he had helped this person or that person was overwhelming. The twins cried through most of it; CJ was inconsolable.
Glen’s recollections of the funeral were interrupted when the radio ear-piece crackled. George announced, “A caravan of cars has just gone by our place. They’ll be there soon.”
A minute later another voice said, “The bastards just turned onto the road.”
Glen pressed the button that would allow him to talk. He said, “Okay everyone, get comfortable and stay still. You won’t be cold much longer. It’s show time.”
Glen took his own advice and shifted to where he would be more comfortable. The change in position was necessary. He could hear others shifting around him as a sudden need to piss flooded over him. Another crackle followed. Sue, their researcher, said, “They’ve stopped in front of the other house. Someone has gotten out and they are checking out the place.”
Glen waited for the next update. He had placed people at key points along the road to make sure that they didn’t end up with them coming through the woods behind them. He was glad that he had done that now. There were people in the woods around the Metchette home. He had been afraid that they would attack there thinking that the twins were in the house. To convince them otherwise, the door was still open from when he had kicked it in the other night.
Another crackle on the radio and then Sue announced, “The man went into the house. He didn’t find anyone and is on his way back to the cars.”
Glen smiled, happy that his ploy had worked. Everything was going exactly like he had planned. All of the people helping had park in the woods in the area he had cleared earlier. Their cars would not be visible unless someone went behind the house and followed the path there for a good distance. He had put it there for that reason and one other. Everyone that volunteered had to drive past the spot where Cliff had been staked and burned. It was a very visible reminder of the type of people with whom they were dealing. He didn’t want anyone to feel guilty for their actions tonight. A reminder that they were dealing with a pack of murderers would help assure that. He hoped that no one would feel bad for anything they did tonight.
The ear-piece crackled again. Oliver said, “They’ve stopped in front of the drive and are getting out. They are all armed.”
Glen didn’t say anything and wouldn’t say anything until he gave the order to fire. In the darkness, he couldn’t make out much other than a few human figures moving across the field. The moon, a little past full was hidden behind clouds. CJ said over the radio, “They are at quarter field. Get ready with the lights. Front and left only.”
He glanced at the hunting stand in the corner of his property where CJ, with night vision glasses, watched the religious fanatics move towards his house. Her position allowed her to spot anyone trying to sneak around the edges of the woods.
The fanatics moved directly toward the house, spreading out as they went. The lights in the house were on and a dummy was placed by the window. CJ said over the radio, “They are at midfield. Trio, your target is in the back. Your call now.”
Glen took a deep breath before pressing the talk button. With a calmness that he didn’t feel, he said, “Lights and Fire at will.”
The lights of the house came on illuminating two dozen men spread out across the field. Most of the fanatics raised their rifles and fired blindly at the house. Glen had expected that. With the lights shining in the eyes of the fanatics and his people in the dark, they had a great advantage.
Glen looked through the sight of his rifle at Anderson and taking a deep breath let half of it out. Holding his breath, he put the crosshairs in the center of Anderson’s chest and squeezed the trigger. He could hear the twins fire together a split second later. Anderson flew back at least six feet. The distance covered by Anderson when he was hit, suggested to Glen that the twins had aimed at him also. His was the first shot from the people in the woods, but it was immediately followed by a thunderous roar from each side of him.
He worked the bolt on his gun to put another round in the chamber and took aim. He finally had a clear shot at the Reverend Jonathan Corwin. Rather than aiming at his chest, he lowered the scope until it was aimed at his stomach. He squeezed the trigger and watched the Reverend collapse to the ground holding his stomach. The Reverend stayed on his knees for a second and then fell forward.
By now, the majority of the men that had been sneaking toward the cabin were on the ground. The others, realizing they were exposed and without cover turned to ran back towards their cars. Glen watched as they fell to the hail of bullets around them. He fired a round at one of the men and watched him drop. He put another round in the rifle by working the bolt and aimed at a fourth man. The man dropped before he had a chance to fire. He looked around for another target, but didn’t find one.
A pair of men who had been well behind the rest actually made it to the road. Shotguns wielded by Oliver and his uncles sounded. In the field, no one was left standing. Without targets, everyone stopped shooting. The sudden silence was as deafening as the shooting had been.
Glen remembered that one of the Special Forces guys had told him that most fire fights last for less than two minutes. He wondered how long this one had lasted. It felt like forever, but he only had enough time to get off four shots and had only fired three times. He imagined that less than two minutes had passed between the first and last shot.
He took a minute to scan the field for movement. There wasn’t any. Glen stood up and touched the button on his radio. He spoke into the microphone, “Okay folks. It’s time for most of you to go home. The Sheriff will be here in about thirty minutes and there’s no need for him to know who was here. Follow the ropes back to your cars. Let Sue know that you have left. If anyone is hurt or missing, we don’t want to find out to late to help them. I personally want to thank everyone that came tonight.”
He could hear calls from along the woods as people shouted, “You’re welcome.”
Wanda and Sandra came over to Glen. They had their arms around each other, spiritually supporting one another. Leaning over to them, he kissed them both. Worried about their safety, he said, “You had better get in the house. CJ will join you there.”
They looked towards the house and didn’t move. Hugging them both, he said, “I love you so much. I just want to know you’re safe.”
They smiled at him and then walked over to the cabin while he watched them go. They stayed in the dark and approached the rear of the house. The door opened well before they reached the cabin as CJ entered it. He watched the field checking for any movement and checked their progress to make sure that they reached the door safely. The door opened, but he didn’t move until they had entered the cabin.
He turned and strode out into the field carrying his rifle at the ready. If he spotted any movement, he was going to fire. He was a solitary figure moving in the open space and looked small. His shadow stretched across the length of the field, a silhouette painted on the trees at the far end. He walked with a purposeful stride until he reached the first body. He knelt down and checked it for signs of life. There were none.
He went from body to body checking each one. He had not realized just how bad a bullet from a hunting rifle could tear someone up. Of course, almost everyone was using rifles that could bring down a charging Bull Moose. He came across Anderson’s body. Three shots, all of them within an inch of each other were centered on the front of his chest. There was nothing left of his back where the bullets had exited.
Glen didn’t feel remorse for the damage done to Anderson. Anderson had seen the evil that the Reverend Jonathan Corwin had spread before joining his group. He had seen Wanda battered and bruised by that cowardly attack. The fact that he had joined, signified to Glen that the man was basically evil. The attack on the Sheriff was a cowardly move. He had no pity to spare for a man that would utilize a man’s medicine as a weapon against him.
Glen continued checking bodies, looking for any that may have survived. He found himself checking the same people twice and realized that he had been walking in circles. He needed some way of marking who he had checked so that he didn’t walk over to them again.
He stopped his search when he reached the Reverend Jonathan Corwin. The man was still moving and groaning. Glen knelt down next to him after making sure there wasn’t a gun within reach of the man. The Reverend Jonathan Corwin, voice weak from his injuries, said, “Demon, you’ve killed a lot of good Christians. I know your master in hell is happy.”
Glen was quiet for a moment and then said, “We didn’t hunt you down. We didn’t threaten your people. We didn’t jump your wives and beat the hell out of them. We didn’t grab one of your people and burn them at the stake. You did all of that and yet you see us as evil?”
“You are a Satanist. You killed Christians working for the glory of God.”
“All injuries your people received were delivered in self defense.”
The Reverend was livid. His rage gave his voice strength as he said, “My people have fought witchcraft for centuries. My children shall continue the work of the Lord and see that you are sent to hell.”
“Give it up already. The only ones you are sending to hell are your followers.”
“Never. Evil must be stopped.” The Reverend twisted on the ground from the pain in his abdomen.
Glen answered, “Today, good triumphed over evil. I know you won’t believe that, but it did.”
Glen looked up as Oliver strolled over to him. He could tell that Oliver had been pushed almost to his limits. There was a tension in the way he moved that Glen had never seen in him before now. Oliver had gone from car to car along the street checking to make sure that no one was in them. They had not seen anyone stay with the cars, but he had to check. He had never been so scared in his life as when he went from car to car expecting to get shot at any second.
Oliver stopped and examined a couple of the bodies as he came driven by the fear that one of them would sit up and shoot him. Taking his time to reach Glen, he knelt down on the other side of Reverend Corwin. Looking at the man on the ground, he asked, “Are you the Reverend Jonathan Corwin?”
The Reverend’s eyes grew large at the sight of the black man., convinced he was the master of lies come to gloat over his victory. He shouted, “Satan! Be gone!”
Oliver laughed at the comment with a chilling effect on the Reverend. Of course, it only made sense that Satan was a black man. The man’s lack of imagination was staggering. There was no way that Oliver could convince the Reverend that he was a devoutly religious man. He had actually stopped by his church on the way here to get blessed by the preacher - asking that a prayer be said over him to protect him from evil.
All goodness aside, he couldn’t resist the temptation the Reverend presented. He looked up to heaven for forgiveness and said, “I came here to send your soul to hell. You were a most perfect vessel for evil, but you failed your mission.”
The Reverend screamed in terror as he believed the statement. With a weak gesture he pointed to Glen and shouted, “He’s the evil one.”
Resisting the temptation to look at Oliver, Glen said, “May God have mercy on your soul. You were corrupted by pride, that most insidious of mortal sins, and committed murder in your desire for power over your followers.”
The Reverend didn’t appear to hear a word Glen stated. His eyes, wide with fright, were fixed on Oliver. His forehead broke out in a cold sweat, fed by fear. Oliver said, “He’s a good man and is protected by God. He fought evil this night and won. You are the evil one here.”
Glen almost laughed aloud at that, but kept control of himself. He could see the realization cross the Reverend’s face as he considered his life. Over the last few minutes he had begun to see the evil that he had done in the Lord’s name. The terror felt by the Reverend as he imagined the hell he was facing was plainly written across his face.
Oliver reached out for the Reverend. The Reverend let loose a loud scream of terror and died before Oliver had a chance to touch him. Checking for a pulse and not finding one, he stood up and said, “I’m probably going to go to hell for that, but I just couldn’t resist. It wasn’t right for him to die thinking he was the good guy.”
Glen realized that the Reverend had died of fright. He didn’t think it was possible, even though he had grown up his entire life hearing that phrase. He said, “I understand why you might feel guilt. However, you also gave him one last chance to repent before he died. That was something that his pride wouldn’t have allowed him to admit unless faced with the devil himself.”
“Perhaps you’re right. Maybe it was for the good after all.”
Glen stood up as the sound of a siren broke the quiet of the night. Saddened, he looked around at the scene of death arrayed on his beautiful front lawn. He knew that he would never be able to look upon it the same way as he had in the past. Aloud, he said, “They ruined this place of beauty for me.”
Putting a hand on Glen’s shoulder, Oliver said, “The seasons shall wash the land clean.”
Glen looked down at himself and asked, “What can wash my soul clean?”
The sight of Glen standing there with filled with self-doubt hurt Oliver. He had seen how Glen had tried to protect Cliff and the twins. He said, “The only sin that I’ve seen here tonight was the misbegotten pride that those people had. They placed themselves above man, law, and country. They thought they were the right- hand of God. What is that? Pride.”
Glen sighed and said, “You’re right. Still, I feel dirty.”
“That’s because you’re a good man,” replied Oliver.
Glen led Oliver to the house to wait for the Sheriff. The sirens slowly moved closer, but were still quite distant. The Sheriff had promised to take his time responding to the call unless he had been told that all hell had broken loose. Since the call to the office had been a normal sounding emergency call, he took his time.
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