Stone of Truth by Donna J. Farris
Chapter 8 - Who Cares?
“Papa, does not their rebellion break your heart?” asked the Servants of Salvation.
A voice from the midst of the throne called out saying, “They sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, bound in affliction and irons because they rebelled against the words of God. Oh how quickly I would break their chains if they would only give thanks to the LORD for His goodness, and for His wonderful works to the children of men.”
Late Friday night, a major thunder storm system settled over the skies of eastern Wisconsin. High winds and hail were forecasted throughout the entire weekend. Tornado watches were issued for Sheboygan, Manitowoc, Kewaunee, and Door counties until Saturday morning.
Around eleven-thirty, a particularly strong cell of thunder clouds traveled through the eastern part of Sheboygan County. Massive flashes of lightning lite up the nighttime sky like a 4th of July celebration. Many ground strikes were reported to local authorities.
As the storm intensified, a bolt of lightning struck the four-story building in Sheboygan where Gary Simpson’s law office was located. The bolt first struck the metal lightning rod on the roof and then traveled down to the first floor reception area igniting a fire near the elevator. Local firefighters were on the scene within minutes. Fortunately, they were able to put out the fire before it spread to any of the other offices.
Back in the town of Plymouth, a blaze erupted on the north side of the Plymouth Press facility when a bolt of lightning came crashing to earth just outside the Press Room. Glass shattered outward towards the street and debris was scattered hundreds of feet along Constitution Avenue. It was several minutes before an over-worked fire crew arrived on the scene. Substantial damage was done to the building before flames could be fully extinguished.
But it wasn’t until golf ball sized hail began falling near the Random River Golf Course that the Van Husen party decided to call it a night. With frozen balls of ice pounding the golf course, guests were sent home, while the Van Husen party retired to their rooms at the nearby Discovery Inn. The senior Van Husen and the governor met in the lounge for one last private conversation before ending their day.
The golf course, however, was not the only area being pelted by the hail. Parked cars throughout downtown Plymouth sustained damages as well. Windshields were broken, rooftops dented, and car alarms blared until their batteries died. Several buildings near George Washington Square also sustained damage as the storm hovered over the area much of the night.
Moments before lightning struck the Press building, Victor Underwood left his darkened office clutching his laptop, an overstuffed cardboard box, and a briefcase bulging with additional papers. Hurrying down the empty hallway, he pressed the elevator button. Descending to the first level of the parking garage under the building, Victor used his remote door opener to unlock the doors of his black Mercedes while he was yet a good distance from the vehicle. In his haste to reach the car, the box he was carrying slipped out of his hand and fell to the pavement. Manila folders and stacks of papers on company letterhead were scattered across the concrete.
A small contingent of Khan’s Liars encircled their prisoner. They knew he was absolutely oblivious to their presence and the demonic powers controlling his life. His spiritual blindness made the evil tormentors all the more brazen. Like a spider tormenting a fly caught in its’ web, Deceptive Ones moved towards their prey. Wildly they laughed as two demons lunged forward and yanked the box out of Victor’s arms, flinging its contents across the floor of the garage. And like hungry beasts ready to pounce, they howled with delight as Victor’s eyes filled with terror at the sight of files marked, “Confidential” haphazardly strewn across the stone-cold pavement.
Victor quickly surveyed the scene and decided he would only retrieve those documents he could put his hands on quickly. He knew he didn’t have much time. Picking up the box and dropping to his knees, Victor began to scoop up what he could of the incriminating papers. As he did, one of the demons pushed his body backward onto the pavement. The back of Victor’s head hit the paved hard. Holding the back of his head with one hand, he regained his footing and yelled, “Who’s there? Come out where I can see you!”
Turning around and around desperately searching for a glimpse of his unseen assailant in the piercing darkness, he saw no one. All of the sudden he felt something brush up against the back of his neck. Cringing he screamed, “Stay away from me!”
Terrified, he then reached down and grabbed his laptop and briefcase. Leaving the box and scattered papers where they lay, he ran towards the car. Quickly putting his belongings into the trunk, he slammed the lid shut then hurried to the driver’s side of the vehicle. As he opened the car door, he turned to see two gigantic, horse-like figures running towards him.
“No!” he screamed. “Leave me alone!”
In that moment, Underwood heard a loud crack of thunder, followed moments later by the sound of an explosion in the building above. The entire structure was shaken as the massive lightning bolt hit its mark. Ignoring what he instinctively knew had just occurred, the guilt-stricken publisher jumped inside his car. Locking all the doors, he turned on the engine. With the headlights now providing a small degree of comfort in the darkened garage, Victor sighed heavily. Tightly clutching the steering wheel with both hands, he put his head on the wheel, closed his eyes and in anguish cried out,
“What have I done?”
But realizing this was not the time for regrets Victor put the vehicle in reverse, backed out of his labeled parking spot then drove towards the garage exit. As he followed the arrows around the last concrete pillar, he spotted the opening leading to the street outside.
“Finally,” he said relieved.
But before his car could reach the exit, the accelerator suddenly stuck. With the pedal pressed to the floor, the wheel began to turn sharply to the right. Panic again gripped Victor as he realized someone or something else was in control of his automobile. He looked up and gasped. The car was headed at full speed straight towards the cement wall, not the exit. He let go of the wheel and threw up his arms in front of his face screaming, “God help me!”
His heartfelt plea for heaven’s intervention was what Captain Aza’s troops had been waiting to hear. Having received strike orders, Radiant Ones now sprang into action. From their hiding places in the attic, four teams of two dropped down through the ceiling into the garage below. They landed in each corner of the basement, taking the enemy completely by surprise. At the same time, from the windows of the abandoned warehouse across the street, another group of angelic warriors flew in through the parking garage entrance and took up their positions between Victor and his attackers. And from their hiding place near the dumpster in the alley behind the building, three Healers flew straight through the thick concrete wall into the garage, stopping directly in front of Victor’s Mercedes. In the blink of an eye, Holy Ones then extended their massive wings over the frightened human, creating a protective shield of light around hell’s intended victim. The out-of-control vehicle immediately came to halt. Neither the car not its occupant were injured.
In a flash of light, the garage was then filled with a holy, white radiance. Temporarily blinded by the full force of heaven’s presence, the demonic unicorns screamed in agony. Trying to shield their eyes from the painful brilliance, Khan’s soldiers turned away. As they did, a glistening, steel-like fish net descended through the concrete ceiling above their heads. Falling upon the wicked creatures, the mesh clung to their black flesh like sticky tar. The more they struggled, the more entangled they became.
No longer able to stand, the four-legged demons fell to their knees. As they did, their bodies began to shrink. The smaller they became, the heavier the net became. The heavier the net, the faster they shrunk. When their bodies were the size of an ordinary field mouse, a small, deep crack in the concrete floor appeared beneath their tiny hooves. The crack grew until it was about a foot wide. Fire from deep within the ear
Victor sat wide-eyed, still trembling for several minutes. It wasn’t until his heart stopped racing and normal breathing was restored that he realized he was still alive. Starting his car once again, Victor Underwood slowly drove out of the parking garage. Turning left at the first stop light, he nervously looked in his rear view mirror, fearful he may still be followed. Although he saw no one, he did see the flames growing inside the Press Room. Heading out of town, west towards Minneapolis, he repeatedly mumbled, “Please God…just let me make it to Canada!”
As Victor fled, he was unaware of the Holy Healers who accompanied him. Commissioned to preserve his life, they flew directly above and beside his automobile. When he moved, they moved. When he stopped, they stopped. When he slept, they stood guard.
It was well past midnight when Gary still agitated from the dozens of disturbing emails and phone calls throughout the day entered his bedroom. Edith was already in bed. The room was dark and quiet, except for the crows.
“Blast those crows!” he muttered just loud enough to annoy his wife. “They’re back and this time it looks like they’ve brought every bird in Wisconsin with them! I’ve never seen so many crows in one place.”
“Who cares? Just turn out the light and go to sleep,” Edith said coldly.
Gary put on his pajamas and sat quietly on the edge of the bed for a moment then choosing his words carefully said, “Edith, my partners reviewed practically every evening newspaper in the country to gauge the public’s response to today’s hearing. I just read an email with their feedback.”
Edith turned her back towards her husband but said nothing. Raising her head slightly she fluffed her pillow with one fist then nervously adjusted the blankets covering her shoulders.
Gary continued. “Edith, did you really think I wouldn’t see your piece in the Madison Capital News? When did you write that article?”
Once again his wife raised her head and fluffed her pillow. Then subtly stiffening her neck and back she asked, “Why?”
“Why?” Gary said raising his voice. “I’ve been with you ever since we left the school. Yet this article was practically in print on our doorstep by the time we got home. You knew what the outcome of the hearing would be, didn’t you? You knew in the car on the way home. You knew before we ever set foot in that gym that we would loose and yet you never once let me in on your little secret!”
Callous and undaunted, Edith coldly replied, “Well, some of us are in the know and some of us are not.”
The words were barely out of her mouth when a loud clap of thunder rumbled directly above the Simpson home. The sound was so loud, windows and doors rattled up and down Mocking Bird Lane. Within seconds, finger lightning flashed across the midnight sky. The lamp sitting on Gary’s night table flickered and went out.
As darkness settled over the Simpson home, storm clouds hovering over Plymouth began again to release their heavy load. Like buckets of water falling from the sky, torrential rains continued throughout the night. And as the water descended, hell’s army rose in celebration.
Confident his holy opponents had fled, Commander Khan led the revelry. Like staggering drunkards intoxicated with the powers of darkness, he and his troops danced on top of the Simpson roof. The eerie rhythm of their pounding hooves disrupted the sleep of residents up and down Mocking Bird Lane all the way to the end of the cul-de-sac.
As gusts of wind uprooted trees, downed power lines, and ripped shudders from their hinges, soldiers of destruction leapt back and forth between the brick chimney and treetops in the Simpson’s front yard singing the ancient songs of death. With every clap of thunder and crack of lightning, devilish creatures howled like tormented wild animals. And in the cloak of darkness, Lying Spirits shouted praises to the Prince of Lies.
Derrick hardly slept a wink that night. The violent strength of the storm raging outside seemed louder and scarier than any other storm he could remember. And just when he was finally about to drift off to sleep, the whispers began. They were terrifying, animal-like growls which seemed to be coming from somewhere in his room. Yet each time Derrick sat up, wide-eyed searching for their source, the only thing he saw were shadowy images of distorted crows and wolves on the walls and on the ceiling.
At some point his eyes finally did close. Yet even in his dreams, the torment continued. Grotesque demons and dragons flew above his head. With every clap of thunder, creatures that looked like characters from his video game shouted and lunged towards his face. In his dream he saw himself trying to call out to his parents for help, but no sound would come out of his mouth. He was terrified, but couldn’t do anything to stop their attacks.
With devilish delight, hell’s warriors danced and swirled around Jason’s bed in the cover of darkness. When they weren’t invading the dreams of their helpless, sleeping prey, they shouted aloud songs declaring the glories of lies, fear, and despair, reveling in their power to destroy puny mortals. And they especially reveled at the imminent destruction of the Simpson family.
Gary tossed and turned all night. In brief moments when slumber overtook him, he too was tormented with cruel nightmares. He dreamed he was standing in his law office in Sheboygan looking at a stack of files on his desk. He heard his cell phone ring and was overwhelmed a sense of urgency to answer the call. Yet he couldn’t find his cell phone anywhere. In a frantic attempt to locate his phone, he threw legal briefings on the floors, yanked open desk drawers and overturned furniture, but to no avail. The sound of the ringing phone kept getting louder and louder until Gary thought he’d go crazy. He was afraid he would never be able to answer what he instinctively knew was a critical call.
Another time, he dreamed he was sitting at his computer in his home office reading a series of emails. He opened one from a business associate marked, “Confidential.” When he opened the email, all he saw were dollar signs next to his name in bold letters. He opened another email marked, “Personal.” The words in the second message simple stated, “Thou shall not lie. Thou shall not steal.” The sender was listed as, “Anonymous.”
But the most troubling dream of all was his dream about Derrick. Gary saw himself walking down the hall into his son’s room in the dead of night. He expected to find Derrick sleeping peacefully in his bed. But as he got closer to the pillow, he realized Derrick was not in his bed. All of the sudden he heard loud weeping coming from somewhere inside the room. He turned to see a faint image of his son huddled in the darkness on the floor, moaning and sobbing uncontrollably. When Gary reached out his arms towards Derrick to comfort him, a huge black, animal-like creature suddenly stood between him and his son.
Desperate to rescue his only child, Gary repeatedly tried to find a way around the shadowy creature. But with every attempt he was picked up by the throat and thrown across the room. Landing on the floor, images of his life would then race through his mind like a video being replayed over and over again. He woke up terrified, covered in sweat, wondering what in the world was happening to his career, his family, his marriage, his soul.
Edith was the only one in the Simpson house who slept soundly Friday night. Exhilarated by thoughts of what lay ahead, she slept without a care in the world. She dreamed of seeing her portrait on the cover of Newsweek magazine. She dreamt she was standing outside on the upper-most step of the Madison Capital News corporate office waving to crowds of people cheering her achievements. Edith dreamt she was looking out the window of her plush, new penthouse office. But it was watching herself dance around her desk with a glass of champagne in her hand, basking in the tantalizing sense of power and freedom that brought a smile to the sleeping face of Mrs. Simpson.
Khan’s minions sat comfortably on the floor on Edith’s side of the bed. They to
Gary was the first one out of bed Saturday morning. Putting on a pair of comfortable jeans and a sweat shirt, he quietly closed the bedroom door so as not to arouse his wife and then went downstairs. Delighted to find the power had been restored, he made a pot of coffee and retrieved the Saturday morning edition of the Plymouth Press from the front porch. Pouring himself a cup of freshly brewed coffee, Gary then retreated to his office and closed the door.
Derrick came downstairs about 7:30 am and heard his father, already pounding away on his computer keyboard. Since it was very quiet upstairs, Derrick figured his mother was either still in bed or also working in her upstairs office with the door shut. So taking his bowl of Cocoa Puffs into the living room, Derrick turned on the television just in time to see the beginning of The Scooby Doo Mystery Hour.
Other than the sound of occasional laughter coming from the living room as Derrick watched a series of Saturday morning cartoon shows, the Simpson home was unusually quiet until around noon. During a commercial break, Derrick got up and went into the kitchen to make himself a quick sandwich for lunch.
With his head in the refrigerator searching for the bologna, Derrick heard his mother come down the stairs. She marched straight into Gary’s office and slammed the door behind her. Even behind closed doors, Derrick could hear the arguing. Their angry voices got louder and louder as the verbal fighting continued. With the refrigerator door still open, tears began to run down his cheeks as he listened. Moments later the door to Gary’s office flung open and Edith emerged, still dressed in her pajamas. Without a word to Derrick, she hurried back up stairs and once again disappeared inside her office.
Using a portion of his long-sleeved t-shirt, Derrick wiped the tears from his face and silently went back to the task at hand. Spreading some mustard onto the white bread, he then put two pieces of meat on one slice and a handful of sliced pickles on the other. With sandwich in hand, he went back into the living room so he could catch the tail end of Sponge Bob.
Derrick finished his sandwich then turned on Dragons, Dwarfs and Demons. He was no longer in the mood for cartoons. Immersed in an electronic war between good and evil, Derrick was alone in the living room until 3:30 pm when the doorbell rang. Opening the door, he was surprised to find Jason standing on the front porch.
“Hi, Jason, what’re you doing here?” asked Derrick.
“Hey Derrick,” Jason replied with a smile. “My mom sent me over to ask if you could come over for dinner tonight. Remember? She tried calling your house to square it with your mom, but the phone’s been busy all morning. Do ya think we could ask her now?”
Derrick started to answer saying, “Well, I don’t think now would be a good time to ask cause…”
But he was interrupted by his mother who had unexpectedly come downstairs and was now standing behind him in the entryway. Edith grabbed her son by the arm, and pulled him away from the door. Turning quickly towards Jason, she yelled, “Young man, I don’t ever want to see you here again!”
Edith then slammed the door in Jason’s face. Turning to Derrick she waved her arms in the air and yelled, “The nerve of those people, using their son to brainwash mine!”
Protesting Derrick yelled back. “But mom, I don’t understand why you don’t like Jason? He’s really nice and he’s the only friend I’ve had for a long time.”
But Edith raised a flat-palmed hand in Derrick’s face, and said, “Enough! You are never to see that boy again, and that’s final!” With that she turned and hurried back upstairs to her office once again slamming the door, this time with such force the downstairs windows rattled.
Derrick looked out the living room window and watched in silence as Jason walked away. A few moments later, he returned to the make-believe world of dungeons and dragons, trying hard to forget his overwhelming sense of loneliness. He did not see his mother for the rest of the day.
Sometime after six o’clock, Gary briefly emerged from his place of refuge. Handing Derrick some cash, he said, “It’s for the Pizza Hut delivery boy when he gets here.” Gary quickly retreated back into his office.
Minutes later the doorbell rang. Derrick was delighted when he discovered his father had added hot wings and Coke to the order. He loved hot wings, but then realized they were probably not for him. Carrying the boxes into the kitchen Derrick thought, “Well, at least it’s not frozen pizza.” He carefully placed a couple slices of hot pepperoni pizza on a plate, poured some coke in a glass and then returned to the living room. Flipping on the TV he changed the channel to HBO just in time for the Saturday night movie of the week special, War of the Worlds.
Derrick was about half way through his first slice of pizza when he overheard his father speaking to someone on the phone. Derrick could tell his father was very angry at something or someone. Unaware that he’d left the door slightly ajar, Gary did not know his son could clearly hear every word.
“You can’t be serious!” Gary shouted as he paced from one corner of his desk to the other. “If this is some kind of joke, I’m not laughing…But that was not our deal. You know as well as I what’s happening here. You can’t possibly hold me responsible for…but…now wait just a minute! What? Ok, fine! I get it. If this is the firm’s position then let me tell you, two can play that game. I’ll be in to clear out my office first thing Monday morning.”
Pastor Jamison had been troubled in his spirit all day. He spent much of his time studying the scriptures in preparation for his Sunday message. Yet ever since the hearing had ended on Friday, he had been unable to get the Simpson family off his mind. He just couldn’t seem to shake a sense of urgency to pray for the family. He sensed a tremendous spiritual battle was brewing in their home. After dinner, he shared his concerns with his wife. Mrs. Jamison had sensed a similar urgency. After an extended time of prayer together, the pastor and his wife decided it was time to activate the church’s e-prayer chain.
“Honey, alert the Woodard family as well, would you?” Jamison said to his wife. “And call Calvary Chapel Madison and Pastor Rick in Green Bay also. They’ll know what to do. Oh, and would you also see if you can reach that church in Bayfield? I forget the pastor’s name. For some reason, I think they should be brought up to speed on what’s been happening.”
Intercessory prayers began ascending within the hour. In churches and homes from Milwaukee all the way north to Sturgeon Bay on the peninsula, saints of God were on their knees on behalf of the Simpson family. By seven o’clock prayers and petitions were being lifted to heaven in cities from Sheboygan to Seattle and from Chicago to Washington, DC. Many committed to fast and pray throughout the night, waiting on the Lord to direct their payers. The prayer teams understood the importance of what had happened in Plymouth that week. And those with spiritual insight knew all too well what was at stake.
Shortly after 8:00 pm Pastor Jamison picked up the phone and entered the cell number for Gary Simpson. The phone rang several times with no answer. Jamison waited for the beep, and then left a lengthy voice mail message.
An angry and distraught Gary heard the phone ring. He saw the caller’s name flash across the LCD screen on the answering machine. He listened intently as the now familiar voice left his message. Gary did not pick up or return the call.
Trinity Rose had spent most of Saturday in peaceful reflection and preparation for her return to class on Monday. Wanting to reply to a long list of emails, she had been online when the e-prayer request was sent out by the Jamisons. Like so many other Christian brothers and sisters, she too devoted the remainder of the evening to praying for the Simpsons, especially Derrick.
Jasmine remained on alert inside the Woodard home throughout the night while her sisters patrolled the grounds of Glory Meadows. Meanwhile Prince Eli secured the territory around his new post, as heaven had decreed. Both he and his a
War of the Worlds ended just after nine o’clock. Derrick turned off the television and the downstairs lights. He could still see a light coming from underneath the door of his father’s study, but decided it best not to disturb him. Derrick got into his pajamas, brushed his teeth then crawled into bed. He waited a little while before turning out the lights, still hoping someone would check in on him or at least holler down the hallway, “Good night.”
But no one came and no one spoke. Turning out his bedside lamp, he said, “I could be dead for all they care.”
But as the darkness settled in his room, he began to hear doors slamming and footsteps stomping up and down the stairs once again. He pulled the blankets over his head trying to hid from the pain of what he knew was coming. But it was no use. After some garbled comments Derrick could not quite understand, he began to clearly hear the conversation coming from his parent’s bedroom.
“Enough already, Edith! Enough! Can’t we just go to sleep now?” shouted Gary, exasperated and exhausted.
“Fine by me!” Edith snapped back, yanking the blankets away from her husband. Pausing a moment, she then added, “And let me tell you something else. After fifteen years of marriage, you finally got something right. It is enough. I’m through! Through with you and through with this marriage!”