1
Father Gabriel
It’sanightlikeany other. Moonlight streaks in through the stained-glass windows, broken by the drifting clouds. It looks like it might rain, which is just as well since I don’t have to go anywhere tonight.
As usual, I walk around the pews, making sure no dust clings to the old wood and the colorful rugs. I like to keep my church clean because it’s an expression of the state of my soul, of my inner balance and quiet, of my humble life.
Yes, I like it simple like this. I have my routine, the people who count on me. Behind the small building I call home sits a small garden too, where I grow herbs and a couple of seasonal vegetables. People bring me eggs, fruit, meat… most of the stuff I need in order to survive, and I don’t need to pay a dime for it.
I, Father Gabriel, lead a good, peaceful, and fulfilling life.
After checking that I’ve locked up, I retreat to my quarters. A narrow corridor to the side of the altar with stairs at its end leads me to the second floor, where my office is. Behind my desk is a keypad-controlled door. I input the code and enter the dark lounge. At one end is a couch and a TV, and at the other is my kitchenette. The rest of my quarters comprise a hallway, a bathroom, mybedroom and a utility room, all in all just under 700 square feet.
I take out the leftover stew from the fridge. While I eat, I skim through passages from the Bible as the news blabbers on in the background. When I’ve finished dinner and have washed up, I glance at my laptop, which is sitting precariously on the couch’s armrest. Catching up with the priests from the nearby towns over video will to have to wait, I’m afraid. Tomorrow’s service will be full, and I’ve got that wedding in the afternoon, too.
I move to my bathroom and quickly shower, then pass out the moment I am under the blankets.
I shoot up in bed, suddenly awake. Sweat covers my brow, and my hands feel clammy. My body shakes as I try to catch my breath, a task made harder by the bout of disorientation that surges through me.
Where am I?
I look around the dark room, the outlines and shapes blending together. My breathing hitches and quickens, piercing the silence. A knock on my window draws my attention. A branch of the great oak outside my church scrapes the glass, reminding me that I really need to get someone in to trim the tree.
Tomorrow.Now I need to rest.
A glass of water later, I try to fall asleep again. But I can’t. My mind is too agitated and my body is too restless.Shit, I hate when this happens. I rub my eyes and sigh. There is only one thing I can do so I don’t look and feel like a zombie at tomorrow’s service. Instead of sleeping at—I tap my phone’s screen, frowning at it—two a.m. in themorning, I toss on my black lounging robe, slip on my trainers and head downstairs.
With the Bible in hand, and gritting my teeth, I beeline for the confessional. Unlike what I normally do though, I don’t sit inside the priest’s compartment.
“Father, forgive me, for I have sinned. I dreamed ofhim. Again.” I sigh, rubbing my forehead and neck. It’s a little silly to confess to nobody, but desperate times call for desperate measures. “The little shit just doesn’t give up. He visits me at night, when my guard is down. This time he wore a pink jockstrap with the American flag on the front and a fluffy bunny tail attached to the back.”
This is ridiculous. Not to mention unseemly for a man of my standing. I’ve been doing so well all these years, too. I turned a new leaf. I really don’t need this on my head.
The click of my tongue echoes in the silent hall. I am a man of faith, for goodness’ sake. I’m dedicated only to God, and I really just meant well when I helped the young blond man a couple of weeks back. The guy looked so troubled, so lost, so cold in his battered-up clothes, and I… Well, I am a priest. A servant of God, here to guide his subjects. It’s my job to help people, even if it’s the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere on my way back from the gas station.
A throbbing along the right side of my face causes me to inhale deeply. Like the good Samaritan I am, I plucked the guy from the road, turned around and drove back into town, checked him into a hotel and gave him some money for food and clothes. I didn’t ask him questions, and I most definitely didn’t take the pretty thing up on his offer for a blowjob. No matter how irresistible those light blue puppy eyes were. And, heavens, were they begging for it. But I resisted, as hard as it was, because priests just don’t give in to carnal desires.
I grit my teeth. “I did everything right, and what do I get in return, huh? I keep dreaming about that blowjob!”
“Ooh, do tell me more,Father,” a lilting voice says from behind the screen.
Ice shoots through my entire being. Who? How? Why the hell is there someone inside my church? I locked up! And that voice… I know that voice even if I pray every fucking night to forget it. The sweetness dripping from it, the cadence—
“Also, you might want to duck. Now!”
Huh? My mind blanks. “Wha—”
The stained-glass window shatters with an ear-piercing cry as the wall opposite the confessional explodes, splintering into thousands of wooden pieces, glass, brick and concrete. Eyes wide and heart banging, I toss my arms over my head and duck, narrowly escaping a collision with the flying debris. It rains on me and strikes the wall of the confessional, creating cracks and dents and making it scream in agony.
JesusChrist.Did someone drop a bomb on us? What the fuck is going on?
The cold night enters the church unobstructed, caressing my skin with its icy fingers. My ears ring, my lungs burn with the effort to keep my body oxygenated. The moon, visible through the giant hole in the church’s side, shines a path through the dust and chaos.
I can’t believe my eyes. Half the wall is missing! There’s a fucking hole where it was! “What the…”
Fear stabs my stomach, sharp and merciless. I run my hands all over my head, thanking every god and deity that it’s still on my shoulders.
“Sorry about this,Father,” that pleasant voice says, sounding a bit spooked and breathless. “But you don’t happen to keep some of your guns around by any chance?”
