Violence (22 page)

A dancing woman just inside the entrance gently took Anderson by the arm and drew him inside the vestibule.

“Welcome! Praise God!” She shouted over the din.

Another dancing couple each took a side of Anderson and shepherded him into the nave where he advanced down the center aisle through the pulsating crowd as if carried on a thundering wave of raw emotion.

Anderson scanned the pews teeming with singing churchgoers, their hands held up, eyes closed as they all swayed back and forth in the throes of holy ecstasy.

The aisles were all crammed with people laughing like children, dancing, weeping, praying. One man roared like a lion.

A 10-year-old girl thrashed about on the floor in the center aisle where a woman prayed over her, tears running down her cheeks. Anderson stopped as the woman shrieked, “God is in her!”

Other parishioners spoke in tongues.

“Yo co pala neyo moway!” Said one.

“Keela keela peeto ayeeee!” Said another.

“Me pikka tool nomee!” Cried yet another.

Father Cannova stepped up to a microphone located in front of the ornate altar where a five-piece rock band was playing.

“Oh Lord, give us a sign of your power!” Cannova implored into the ether. “We ask for the angels of heaven to embody us!”

Anderson locked his gaze on Jeannie, the young woman he encountered earlier who was working in the church rectory when he donated the insurance checks. She was squeezed into a pew between other congregants, clapping, swaying, and deep in spiritual rapture.

Jeannie opened her eyes, looked about and realized Anderson was staring at her. There was a flash of initial joy on her face that was quickly covered up with a glare of defiance and she turned away.

“I feel the angels of heaven here tonight!” Father Cannova shouted into the microphone as he unhooked the mic from its stand. “I feel the presence of God!”

There were shouts everywhere of, “Praise the Lord!”

Father Cannova spotted Anderson among the throng.

“Mr. Anderson, is that you?!!” It was an inquiry of real surprise and delight.

Anderson sort of ducked his head down out of embarrassment but then looked back up to face him.

“Come forward! Come forward!? Cannova urged him.

All eyes focused on Anderson.

The congregants in the aisle parted for Anderson who was now forced to make his way to the altar where Father Cannova embraced him.

“Are you here to receive the loving grace of God?!!” Cannova asked, his voice booming to the rafters.

Anderson was clearly uncomfortable, but caught without an escape.

Cannova embraced him again, and then shouted into the mic to the dancing throng. “This man’s family was taken from him in an act of violence, yet he has come to receive the healing power of our Lord Jesus Christ!”

Voices in the crowd shrieked, “Praise Jesus!” and “Alleluia!”

“Brothers and sisters, quiet please!” Cannova commanded the congregants.

The band kicked the tempo down into a slow steady rhythm.

Cannova turned to face Anderson and placed his hand on Anderson’s shoulder.

“Do you want to be healed?” Cannova asked evenly, as he then turned the mic toward Anderson for his response.

“I, uh… yes. Yes.” Anderson responded timidly into the mic’s mouthpiece.

A group of people pressed forward at the front of the altar to pray at Anderson.

“I ask everyone here to pray for you.” Cannova summoned the whole assembly before turning back to face Anderson. “And I am going to ask
you
to do one of the most difficult things
you
have ever done. I am going to ask you to pray out loud for the healing powers of our Lord Jesus Christ to enter you. Say out loud, LORD JESUS, HEAL ME!”

“Lord Jesus, heal me.” Anderson stated reservedly.

“You can do better than that!” Cannova shouted.

“Lord Jesus, heal me!” Anderson declared again, a bit stronger.

“Oh, come on!” Cannova beseeched him.

“Lord Jesus, HEAL ME!” Anderson bellowed, finally getting into it.

The praying people at the altar formed a semi-circle about Anderson in order to perform a ritualistic laying on of hands.

Another large man scooted around behind Anderson into a catching position as Cannova set the mic back in its stand.

Cannova raised his hands heavenward in supplication and placed his palms gently on Anderson’s forehead. He pushed Anderson softly back into the waiting arms of the large man who lowered Anderson gently to the floor.

Other congregants surged forward and writhed about on the marble floor next to Anderson.

The band started playing full throttle again, rocking the house.

The whole place erupted into a cheering, dancing mass of humanity.

“If you doubt that the Holy Spirit lives, look no further than this man!” Cannova cried out.

Anderson slowly rose to his feet and stared intently at the boisterous, teeming assemblage.

“You are now ‘Slain in the Spirit’!” Cannova exclaimed to Anderson. “Let the Holy Ghost be your guide! You have a family now! You are a member of the family of God!”

Father Cannova stood at the bottom of the stairs bidding good-night to the service attendees as they streamed out of the front doors of the church.

Anderson descended the stairs and moved up to Cannova. Several parishioners patted Anderson on the back and shook his hand as they moved past him.

“I hope we’ll see you again.” Cannova warmly inquired of Anderson.

A crying woman pressed a bouquet of flowers into Anderson’s hands. “Peace be with you! I pray for you!” She said as Anderson smiled at her and she drifted away.

“Church has changed quite a bit since I used to go.” Anderson said bemused as he turned back to Cannova.

“Yes it has.” Cannova agreed.

“I’m praying for you!” Another man with a limp told Anderson as he hobbled past.

“We have the more traditional masses you could attend.” Cannova offered. “If that’s what you prefer.”

Anderson just stood in non-committal silence for a moment.

A few more people moved past them and said good-night, expressing sympathies to Anderson.

“I need help, father. I need you to pray for me.” Anderson asked Cannova.

“You don’t even need to ask.” Cannova reassured him. “I already pray for you. And as you can see, everyone else does, too.”

“I appreciate it.” Anderson solemnly expressed his gratitude as he nodded, shook Cannova’s hand and headed off into the parking lot.

“God does have a plan!” Cannova called after him.

Anderson reached the edge of the lot where a darkened dormant building was located. It was another piece of church property, a grade school that was closed-down by the Archdiocese due to insufficient enrollment. As he reached his car he could hear a couple arguing in the shadows.

“What have you been doin’?” The man raged. “I’ve been waiting out here for fucking ever!”

“Get away from me!” The woman shouted back. “I don’t have to tell you anything!”

Anderson stepped up to find it was Jeannie who was in the middle of a screamfest with a long-haired, leather clad dirtball. His name was Jack Trax, and he looked like a reject from Spinal Tap.

“I’m under a lot of pressure!” Trax yelled as he grabbed her by the arm. “And you’re fuckin’ around over here!”

“What pressure?!!” Jeannie snorted, putting a key to the door lock on her 1996 rusted-out Impala.

“You don’t know nothin’, you stupid bitch!” Trax spewed as he decked her with a hard slap across the face.

Anderson trotted up to Trax as Jeannie, hands over her tear-filled mascara streaked face, looked up, embarrassed.

“You want to try that on me?” Anderson challenged Trax.

“Get the fuck out of here.” Trax answered with irritation, shoving Anderson aside.

Anderson grabbed Trax and ran him headlong into some trash cans. Trax went sprawling, spread-eagled atop some rubbish. Anderson easily gathered him up and punched him in the stomach.

Jeannie sprang to her feet and pulled at Anderson.

“Leave him alone! Leave him alone!” She screamed, pushing herself between them.

Trax fell to his knees, wheezing.

“Are you crazy!” Jeannie shrieked at Anderson. “Get out of here! LEAVE US ALONE!”

Jeannie kneeled down and comforted Trax who gladly took her aid.

Anderson, puzzled, backed away.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry.” Trax muttered to Jeannie shamelessly. “All I want is to be with you. I’m sorry.”

Anderson just shook his head, got in his car and drove away.

CHAPTER 17

         I
t had just stopped raining outside the Eisenhower Public Library when Anderson exited with some books he had just checked-out.

He cut across a courtyard and approached his Mercedes in the parking lot when the sound of squealing tires made him turn.

A Chevrolet Caprice skidded to a stop next to Anderson and Al Ward jumped out.

“Al, how are you?” Anderson casually greeted him.

“Fuck you! You trying to make an ass out of me?” Ward spewed. “I’m not finding out where those guys live so you can kill them!”

“What are you talking about?” Anderson questioned him, perplexed.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about…” Ward stormed. “…and I know what’s going to happen. You’re going to fuck it up, tell them I helped you and they’ll put my ass in prison, too!”

“Helped me what?” Anderson asked innocently.

Ward chuckled scornfully, and did an angry pivot as if he were trying to cool himself off.

“Ruben Roney!” Ward said fiercely. “You killed him!”

“He’s dead?” Anderson queried with earnestness.

“You think I’m stupid?” Ward fumed.

Anderson just stared at him.

“Cops aren’t stupid either.” Ward continued. “And they ain’t gonna give you a pass just because you pay your taxes.”

“Al-” Anderson started to protest but Ward didn’t even give him a chance to deny it anymore.

“Okay, so the first guy is dead…” Ward sneered. “…they’ll chalk it up to he’s a scumbag. He got what he deserved. Nobody’s gonna give a shit. Second guy dies…” Ward pointed his finger at Anderson. “…everybody’s looking
at you
. And they’ll put you away for the rest of your life!”

“Al, please, slow down-” Anderson held up a hand in an attempt to placate Ward.

“You think you can kill three guys?” Ward asked mockingly. “Forget it! You ain’t that smart and you sure as shit ain’t that lucky! Don’t get me wrong, I’d die a happy man if I lived to see you do it. Most people just suck on it and forever they’re the walking wounded. But one’s gotta be enough!”

“I swear I didn’t know.” Anderson insisted.

“That’s good. Lying is good.” Ward snorted cynically. “But I hope you’re studying criminology in there because you’re gonna need the knowledge of twenty detectives and still have airtight alibis, and there’s no such thing!”

Anderson fished in his pocket for his car keys.

Ward grabbed several of the books Anderson was cradling and scanned the titles: “When Bad Things Happen to Good People,” “Getting Over Tragedy,” and “A Course in Miracles.”

“You better find a better act than this. They’ll pull this beard right off.” Ward scornfully instructed him, and then pointed at the library. “And if you’re using their computers, they got cameras in there, too, they can trace any websites you’re looking at if they really wanted to investigate.”

“Look, I’m sorry for the guy…” Anderson tried to recall the name. “…uh, Ruben-”

Ward threw his hands up in a helpless gesture as if Anderson were impervious to reason.

“But I’m just trying to deal with what happened to my wife and daughter.” Anderson continued as he took back the books and got in his Mercedes. He turned the engine over and put down the car window. “That’s it, nothing more.”

“You can’t think about the past.” Ward loomed up over the window, blotting out the sunlight. “If you’re going to go through with it you gotta become a predator. Think like those fucking killers think. You gotta become an animal. And an animal has a vague idea of yesterday, an intense awareness of the present, and no thought of the future.”

“I really gotta go.” Anderson calmly nodded. “I appreciate you letting me know.”

And with that Anderson backed out and drove away.

Ward stared after him until the Mercedes left the lot and disappeared into traffic.

CHAPTER 18

         O
ur Lady of Sorrows church had a capacity crowd again. People were on their feet, clapping and dancing as the band played an up-tempo supportive Gospel strain for a “witness” who was presently on the altar giving “testimony.”

“I’m telling you the devil had me in his grip!” The slender, malnourished-looking man at the mic said. “I got so drunk one time I hit a little boy on a bike!”

A collective groan rolled across the assembly.

Anderson was tucked into a pew towards the side rear doors. He was clapping along with the other worshipers who were entranced in Holy ecstasy, but he still was not yet fully immersing himself in the ritual.

“The Lord took that boy!” The slender man shouted as he shook a fist at his demons and started to cry. “And I prayed the Lord would take me!”

Voices in the crowd cried out:

“Oh no, Lord!”

“Help him, Jesus!”

“Mercy, Lord!”

Anderson looked about and spotted Jeannie in another pew directly across the aisle.

Jeannie was swaying side to side, arms undulating like a belly dancer’s.

Anderson leaned forward to get a better look at her and their eyes met. Again, she quickly averted her gaze and edged her way out of her pew.

“The devil screamed in my ear,
kill yourself!
” The slender man continued.

More shouts of horror.

“Oh, no!”

“No, Lord!”

“I got a gun and put it to my head!” The slender man shakily attested, pointing an index finger at his temple.

“Say it isn’t so!” A parishioner screamed.

Jeannie exited the church.

Anderson sidled out of his pew and followed her.