Invisible Terror Collection (22 page)

Becka saw tears in the man’s eyes, and she felt her own eyes growing moist. Dr. Woods drew a deep breath and continued.

“I told him I didn’t know, that no one had told me about him.

But he said he’d spoken to me many times, through my friends, through Lisa, even through my daughters. As I listened, I knew he was right. And then he said, ‘But so far, you have refused my offer.’ ”

“So far?” Ryan echoed, and Dr. Woods smiled grimly.

“I grabbed on to that too. Believe me. When he said that, I cried out, ‘Do I still have a chance? Are you giving me another chance?’ His answer was the most wonderful thing I’ve ever heard. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘your time has not yet come.’

“When I asked about my children … about Lisa, he assured me they were safe.” His voice choked with emotion. “He said they were at his side, enjoying his love and goodness. And then he said, ‘When it is your time, you may join them. But it must be your choice, your decision. Not mine. I love you. I want you to join us. But it is up to you.’ ”

Dr. Woods grew quiet. The three sat in absolute silence.

Finally Ryan cleared his throat and spoke. “And then?”

“And then I regained consciousness, in ICU, where I remained for nearly a month.”

“The voice,” Becka ventured, “was it … ?” He nodded. “Yes, it was Jesus Christ.”

“So there
is
a hell,” Ryan half whispered.

Dr. Woods nodded. “But it is not a place God sends us to.

It’s a place we choose when we refuse him. Don’t you see?
That’s
why Christ died, to pay for our wrongs so we don’t have to go there. To save us from ourselves, from the penalty we’ve earned through our sin.”

“But when you died,” Becka asked, “why did you go to hell?

Aren’t you supposed to be judged first?”

“Who said I died?” Woods shook his head. “My heart never stopped, they never had to revive me. The best I can figure is that I had a vision. But whatever it was, it was a gift from God, a warning about what was in store for me if I didn’t turn to him.”

He looked at Becka, his expression and voice earnest. “It was another chance, Rebecca. God gave me chance after chance, and when everything looked hopeless, he gave me yet another chance. He never stopped reaching out to me. Never. And if he never stops reaching out, how can we do any less? With our friends, our loved ones … how can we do any less?” Tears filled Becka’s eyes. “But — ” her voice was barely above a whisper — “I’m not God.”

Woods’ voice was equally soft and filled with compassion.

“No, you’re not. But you are his hands on earth, and you are his feet. As believers, we make up his body. Each one of us is a part of his body. Someone has to tell those who don’t know him, Rebecca. It may mean more pain. It may mean more rejection.

But if you love your friends, what other choice do you have?” Becka stared at the floor. He was right.

“If you don’t tell them,” he continued gently, “who will?” The words rang in Becka’s ears. They were the same words her mother had used. She looked up, tears streaming down her face. “What more can I say? What more can I do?” Dr. Woods shook his head. “I don’t know, but it’s late. And if Ryan’s right, every minute counts.”

Becka nodded and turned to Ryan.

There was moisture in his own eyes. “Come on.” He reached for her hand. “We’d better go.”

Becka nodded. Dr. Woods was right, there wasn’t a minute to waste.

Chapter 10

Becka looked at the clock on the dash of Ryan’s Mustang — 6:00.

As Ryan sent his car speeding toward Julie’s house, Becka knew they’d used up valuable time at the morgue, but it had been necessary. It had helped her find her second wind.

She was ready to try again. To reach out, regardless of the cost.

“Remember,” Ryan asked, “before our showdown at the mansion, remember that section in Ephesians we read?” Becka grabbed his Bible and flipped through it. “You mean the different pieces of armor we’re supposed to wear when fighting the devil?”

“Yeah, let’s go down the list.”

She found it. “Ephesians 6:14. Here we go: ‘Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righ teous ness in place.’ ”

“Got it.” Ryan nodded. “We’re holding on to God’s truth, and we’re doing what God wants, right?”

“Right,” she said. “We’ve got his approval.” She continued reading: “ ‘And with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace.’ ” 

“We’re definitely preaching the gospel,” Ryan said.

Becka continued: “ ‘Take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one.’ Satan. ”

“Faith. We’ve got that.”

“ ‘Take the helmet of salvation.’ ”

Ryan nodded. “Our heads need to keep remembering we’re saved. Got it.”

“ ‘And the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.’ ” Becka looked up.

Ryan was already chuckling. “Remember how crazy quoting the Bible made those little critters in the mansion?” Becka nodded. “That’s all Jesus used when he fought Satan.”

Ryan agreed. “No guns, no missiles, just the Bible. That was his sword, his only weapon.”

“And ours,” Becka added.

Ryan nodded as he turned the last corner and headed up Julie’s street.

Becka looked back to the book: “The last piece of armor:

‘Pray in the Spirit on all occasions.’ ” Ryan threw her a chagrined look. “Guess we’ve kinda left that out lately, haven’t we?”

Becka nodded. It was true. In all of the emotion flying around, they’d completely forgotten about prayer.

Ryan eased the car to a stop in front of the house, and before Becka could move, he reached out and took her hand. Then, to her astonishment, he closed his eyes and began to pray.

“Lord …”

Becka looked on, stunned. It was all she could do to say grace in front of people. But here was Ryan, praying out loud as if it was the most natural thing in the world. What an incredible person this guy was! She closed her eyes as he continued.

“I’m not real good at this kinda stuff … but you know what we need here. There’s some kids in that house who don’t know what they’re dealing with. Show them, God. Let them see what’s really happening. And, uh …” He hesitated, unsure where to go.

Becka couldn’t help but give his hand a squeeze of encouragement. That’s all it took. “And help us too. Show us the right thing to do, keep us safe, and don’t let us mess up too bad. In Jesus’

name we pray. Amen.”

“Amen,” Becka repeated softly.

They opened their eyes and looked at one another. The lump had returned to Becka’s throat, but this time it had nothing to do with sadness or even fear. It had everything to do with her feelings for Ryan.

They stepped out of the car and headed for the house. It was fancy, three stories, and worth a lot of bucks. They reached the door, knocked, and endured the hellos and pleasantries from Julie’s mom. Becka knew she should try and explain what was going on, but she also knew the woman wouldn’t believe them.

Fortunately, she saved Becka the trouble by explaining that she and her husband were just heading out to catch a movie.

Becka’s eyebrows raised. How convenient.

Or was it?

“Go on upstairs,” Julie’s mom said while slipping into her coat. “And if you and the rest of the gang want any munchies, feel free to help yourself in the kitchen.” The last thing Becka or Ryan wanted to do was eat, but they thanked her and started up the stairway. Rebecca could feel her heart pounding. She’d had lots of encounters with the enemy lately, but she was still frightened. Maybe that was good. Maybe the fear was a reminder that this stuff wasn’t something to play with.

She reached out and took Ryan’s hand. It was as cold and damp as hers.

They arrived at the top of the staircase, turned, and headed for Julie’s room. Fourth door on the left. Once there, they stopped and looked at each other. There was no missing the anxiety each was feeling. Becka took a deep breath and nodded.

Ryan reached for the knob, turned it, and pushed. Neither was prepared for what they saw.

The room looked normal enough. It was large and painted in robin’s egg blue. On one side was a dresser and a white vanity with a huge mirror surrounded by a dozen softly glowing bulbs. The next wall contained a closed window with white chif-fon curtains that stirred in a strange sort of breeze. Beside the window was a towering bookshelf that ran from the ceiling to the floor, also in white. Next to the bookshelf was a desk with a top-of-the-line computer on it. The final wall was nothing but a giant walk-in closet. None of this was surprising. Becka knew Julie had money. She also knew Julie never showed it off, which was why they were such good friends.

What
had
surprised Becka was seeing Philip and Krissi standing at the foot of Julie’s bed, staring in awe. The reason was pretty clear. Julie was no longer in bed. In fact she was no longer
on
the bed. Instead, with her eyes closed in blissful peace, Julie Mitchell was floating above her bed. Not too far above it, only four or five inches. But it was enough.

Julie’s eyes fluttered and opened, and Becka went cold. Whoever was behind those eyes was not her friend.

When Julie saw Becka, her face twisted and contorted. Immediately, she fell back down onto the bed. “Youuuu,” Julie hissed.

But it wasn’t Julie’s voice. It was as twisted and contorted as the face. And as full of hate. “You are not welcome.” Rebecca could feel the waves of hostility press against her.

She took another breath, trying to calm herself.

“Becka,” Philip spoke up. He tried his best to sound casual but was doing a lousy imitation of it. “What brings you here?” Ryan stepped forward. “Listen, what you have here, it’s not what it looks like.”

“Silence!” the voice inside Julie ordered. 

Ryan turned toward his friend. “This … thing … it’s not an angel.”

“Of course he is!” Krissi squeaked. “He’s teaching us all sorts of cool things so we can band together and help save the — ” Ryan cut her off. “Do you remember all the stuff that happened in the mansion? Remember all those little creatures?”

“You mean the demons?” Philip asked.

“Exactly. That’s what we’ve got here. This is no angel. This thing is nothing more than — ”

“Liar!” Julie hissed.

“It’s just another demon, but this one is disguised to make you think it’s an angel.”

Suddenly the bookshelf behind Ryan began to vibrate. Everyone turned and watched as the shaking grew more violent.

“Maybe it’s an earthquake,” Krissi said hopefully. But she knew it wasn’t. Nothing else in the room moved.

As the books vibrated forward, Becka stole a glance at Julie.

The concentration on the girl’s face made it clear that she was the one responsible, that the shaking was an extension of her anger.

The wind had picked up considerably. Then, one by one, the books began falling to the floor.

Philip motioned for Ryan to look at Julie’s face. “Don’t you see — look how you’re upsetting her.”

“That’s right,” Krissi whined. “You’re wrecking it! You’re going to make her mad and ruin everything.” The books continued tumbling out, faster and with more force. The wind increased, causing the curtains to flap and whip noisily. Becka prepared herself. She was about to speak, she was about to step forward and put an end to all of these special effects. Unfortunately, Ryan had other plans.

He turned and addressed Julie. “Is that all you can do?” His voice was a little high, the way it got when he was nervous, but he did his best to cover it. “Kinda bush league, aren’t you?” 

“Ryan,” Becka warned. “Don’t mess arou — ” Julie’s voice cut her off. “Bush league, am I?” Her lips curled into a sneer.

Ryan crossed his arms and shrugged. “I’ve seen better.”

“Ryan … ,” Becka whispered.

He spoke to Becka, but was loud enough for all to hear. “We don’t have to be afraid of this garbage. We’re Chris tians. We’ve got the authority.”

“Oh, you are a Chris tian now, are you?” Julie’s voice smirked.

The tone gave both Ryan and Becka the creeps. But Ryan rose to the challenge. “Yeah … I am.”

Julie began to laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“Do you honestly think you qualify? In your wildest dreams, do you really believe you are good enough to be a follower of the Christ?”

Ryan threw a look at Becka and shifted his weight. “Well, yeah … sure.”

“Perhaps you should tell that to the Johnson children.”

“Who?”

“You remember the Johnsons. It was their dog you ran over on New Year’s Eve.”

Ryan glanced to Becka. “It … it was an accident.”

“Is that why you never told anyone? Is that why you didn’t even try to find the owner?”

“He was — he was already dead, I-I didn’t know who he belonged to. I — ”

“Just like you didn’t know you were shoplifting that car stereo last spring?”

Ryan looked like he’d been punched in the gut. “It-it was a dare. Just a — ”

“Or just like you could have passed geometry last year without those cheat sheets?” 

“Ryan?” Krissi asked in surprise. “You cheated your way through geometry?”

His eyes darted to his friends; he was breathing faster, trying to catch his breath. “Not all the time, I, uh …”

“Yes, Ryan Riordan, you are a fine example of a Chris tian.

Just ask Nancy Haldermen.”

The color drained from Ryan’s face. “Wh-what … ?”

“Sweet Nancy, in the backseat of your car. You remember.” Philip looked to Ryan in disdain. “You and Nancy Haldermen?”

Ryan took a half-step back and turned to Becka. His eyes were wide, like the eyes of an animal trapped in a car’s headlight.

His voice trembled.

“Beck, it was a long time ago … I … I …” He stumbled back into the desk and half-fell, half-sat beside the computer.

Becka looked on, stunned. Part of her wanted to help Ryan, but part of her was repelled at what she was hearing. Was this the real Ryan Riordan?

The voice persisted, bearing down with glee, going in for the kill. “Yes, everything is ‘I’ in your life, isn’t it? ‘I’ this, ‘I’ that.