Messages Read online

  David stepped in, turned, and pressed button number eight. When he stepped out again he saw a sign reading Cardiac Ward with an arrow pointing to the right. During his long walk down the corridor, he resisted the impulse to look through any open doors. He didn’t want to invade anyone’s privacy, and he especially didn’t want to invite the sullen stare of some poor powerless soul who would have closed the door, if they could.

  “Excuse me,” said David to a nurse typing into a computer behind the counter. “I’m looking for Frank Johnston.”

  She looked up. “You know what room he’s in, hon?”

  “817.”

  She pulled a pencil from behind her ear, held it loosely by the eraser, and pointed over the counter and up the hall. “That way, hon. Last door on the right.”

  “Thank you.”

  He left the nurses’ station, went up the hall, and peered into the room. A curtain prevented him from seeing the bed nearest the door, but in the far bed by the window, was Frank.

  “Dave!” Frank opened his arms wide. Thin rubber tubes dangled.

  “Hey there, Frank. Just stopped by to see if you’re still breathing.”

  “I’m invincible––right up to the moment God decides to take me.”

  “That’s one way of looking at it, I guess.” David rounded the bed and took a look out the window. “Nice view.”

  “Like a five-star hotel.”

  David tapped the breakfast tray on the rolling table next to the bed. “Food’s better in a five-star.”

  “I don’t know why people hate hospital food so much. I think it’s great!” Frank reached over and grabbed an English Muffin topped with grape jelly. “People would probably like it more if they didn’t have to eat it in here.”

  “Probably,” said David.

  Frank took a bite and rolled his eyes in ecstasy.

  “I don’t know about you, Frank.”

  Frank gave a jelly smeared grin.

  David took a seat in a padded chair next to the bed. “I said I’d come check on you today, so here I am.”

  “Thanks, man. I really appreciate it.”

  “Do you have anyone to take care of stuff at your house while you’re in the hospital? I mean, I’m right next door, if you need anything done.”

  “Yeah. I have a friend checking in on the cats, and watering the plants. That’s pretty much all there is, but thanks for asking. You’re a good neighbor.”

  “Well, I just want to make sure you’re being taken care of.” It was only a half truth. David’s real reason for visiting was to hear more of Frank’s ideas about the messages, how he had connected them to God and all. He had serious doubts about Frank’s God theory––but what if it was true? What if it actually was God? He sighed and gripped his knees. If he wanted answers, he was going to have to tell Frank everything.

  “You okay, Dave? You seem pensive.”

  “I’m just, well, this whole thing is crazy.”

  “We’re not talking about my cats anymore, are we?”

  David looked out the window. “They started yesterday, the messages. They come from words around me, telling me what’s going to happen before it happens.” He paused, wondering if he should continue. He squeezed his eyes, shook his head, and went on. “The first time it was something trivial. A producer needed a tape. The second time they rescued me from a fatal car accident. And the third time was when I came and rescued you.” David looked up at his friend.

  Frank sat, squinting at David, his hand hanging in mid-air, holding the half-eaten English Muffin.

  “I told you you wouldn’t believe me.”

  “No. Um- I believe you. I’m just trying to understand what you’re saying. You say these messages come from words around you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can you give me more detail?”

  David furrowed his brows. “Okay. My eyes are drawn to certain words and they come together to make a sentence.”

  “And they tell you, the future?”

  David looked Frank in the eye. I might as well spill my guts, he thought. What have I got to lose? “Yes, Frank. They tell me the future, or to do something. Like last night. I was talking on the phone when my eyes were drawn to a can of Beans and Franks. The word Frank stood out. Then I saw the word needs and then you––and that’s why I came over.”

  “You came over because you saw some words that told you to?”

  “It’s more than that. When I see the words––it’s hard to explain. When I see the words, they stand out, but there’s also a kind of feeling, somehow I know what they’re saying is true.”

  “Fascinating. And they saved you from a car accident?”

  David stood up. “Okay. Let me start from the beginning so I don’t miss anything. It started yesterday when I was at work...” David went on to explain in full detail the events of the previous day. But he chose to leave out what had happened that morning, the message about the president. He wasn’t sure he would ever share that one.

  When David finished, Frank’s eyes were wide. “Wow, David. That’s quite a gift.”

  “Gift? Is that what you would call it?”

  Frank didn’t respond.

  “I wish it were a gift, I’d return it, not that I’m sorry I saved you, but I don’t want this... whatever it is. I’m no hero! I’m an intern at a television station.” He shook his head and stared at Frank. “Why me? If it is God, why’d he choose me? I’m just an ordinary guy.”

  “Less than ordinary,” Frank said, chuckling.

  “Hey.”

  “What I mean is, God uses less than ordinary people to carry out his plans. God says in the Bible that he uses the foolish things of this world to confound the wise. He uses weak people, so that he can show himself strong.”

  That was an intriguing thought. Frank had an unconventional way of looking at the world, it was one of the things David liked most about him. He was always provoking him to think in unpredictable ways, and that was something he desperately needed right now. “Using weak people to do important things seems kind of backwards don’t you think?”

  “The ways of the Lord are not our ways,” Frank said, reaching for his napkin. “His ways are higher than our ways.”

  “But why make me see messages in words around me? Why not talk to me directly?”

  “Because then maybe you would ask questions, and if he told you everything he is planning to put you through, you’d probably give up.”

  “That’s encouraging.”

  Frank smiled sympathetically. “God loves you and wants you to be a success, so he’s only giving you small bites, building your faith until you’re ready for the big stuff.”

  David gave a wry smile and shook his head. “Big stuff? You mean like, I don’t know, saving the President of the United States from being assassinated? Does that constitute BIG? Call me crazy, but it sure feels like I’m being thrown into the deep end on this one.”

  At first, the look on Frank’s face gave David a feeling of satisfaction. He had won the point. Frank didn’t have a leg to stand on. But the longer Frank’s face remained in the position of stunned disbelief, the more unsettled David became.

  “The messages told you this?”

  “Yes.” David looked at him intently. “It said in two days the President is going to be killed, and I’m supposed to stop it.”

  Frank’s eyebrows rose as he nodded and considered the thought. “Tell me more. Where were you when you got this message?”

  David explained the morning in detail, then looked Frank in the eye. “You still think God is only giving me what I can handle?”

  “Well––so far you’ve handled what he’s given you, right?”

  “I guess, but I feel so completely, I don’t know, disoriented? Out of control?”

  “You can’t trust your feelings. They’ll always betray you.”

  David furrowed his brow. “Well then what can I trust? Does God expect me to forge ahead in blind faith?”

  “Jus
t trust what you know. Trust the facts. It’s amazing how many people make decisions based on what they feel. The truth could be staring them right in the face, but they choose the wrong direction because they feel like it. Feelings are just guesses based on emotional impulses. Stick to what you know.”

  “Well, all I know is, I’m in WAY over my head.”

  “You think that because you’re no longer in your comfort zone. Just because you aren’t tucked in nice and cozy in your comfortable little life, doesn’t mean that God has viciously tossed you in over your head.”

  “But what if I don’t want to do what the messages say? What then?”

  “You have a free will. You can choose not to do what God is telling you. People do it all the time.”

  David looked out the window again. “What if it’s not God telling me to do these things?”

  “Who else could it be?”

  “Who? What if it’s not even a who?” David studied Frank’s face. Apparently in Frank’s mind, it had to be God, he seemed to believe this with unwavering conviction. David envied him. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to simply walk through life believing with blind faith? To have that sense of contentment that everything was always going to be just hunky-dory no matter what? He shook his head. “I wish I could believe like you, Frank, but I need evidence. Scientific proof. As far as I can tell, whether or not there even is a God is unknowable.

  “Oh there’s a God.”

  “Well it seems more likely to me that this phenomenon isn’t a who at all, but a psychic ability of some kind, a dormant gene in my brain maybe which has become active through some form of evolutionary leap or something.”

  “You think your brain is doing this?”

  “It’s possible.”

  Frank raised one eyebrow. “I think you’re missing something.”

  “How so?”

  “You’re only thinking of the moment when the messages happen. You’re missing the bigger picture. If the words weren’t there to begin with, you wouldn’t be able to find them. Someone had to put that can of beans on the counter so you could grab the word. Did your brain do that?”

  “Of course not. If there were different items in the room, my mind would have made a different message, like ‘Go next door.’ or ‘Help your neighbor.’”

  “Hmm. Good point. Well, the most important thing is to look at the evidence. Every time this has happened, it’s come true, right?”

  “So far.”

  “Well in the Bible, if a prophet is wrong, even one time, then he is not of God. So it stands to reason, if he is always correct, then he is from God. So logically, if the messages continue to be right, then they must be from God.”

  David stared blankly at Frank.

  “Okay,” said Frank. “Obviously, I can’t even begin to understand what you’re going through, but what keeps sticking out to me is the complexity of it. I just don’t see how you can think it’s your brain doing these things. There are simply too many details that have to come together, and you couldn’t possibly make that happen on your own.”

  “Why not? There are people who can move stuff with their minds, others who can read people’s thoughts.”

  Frank shook his head. “Look, take me for instance. How could you possibly have known that I needed help?”

  “Maybe my mind could see you, like through some kind of remote viewing ability. I saw a documentary one time on remote viewing. They scientifically proved that people could draw pictures of things in other places in the world without going there. The test subjects were given coordinates and told to draw what they saw. The results were pretty darn close!”

  “Okay. Let’s just say all that hocus-pocus is real.”

  “Hocus-pocus? It’s a lot more scientific than just assuming God did it!

  “You still can’t account for the fact that you saw the words exactly when I needed you. And how could your brain possibly know that someone is planning to kill the President?”

  Although Frank remained calm, David’s agitation was increasing. “I don’t know, maybe...” David paused. He really had no good answer, but he couldn’t let Frank win. “Maybe somehow I could see it, like on a piece of paper. Maybe the killer wrote it down, and my mind viewed it remotely.”

  Frank squinted. “So––your brain reached out, subconsciously, and saw a killer, possibly hundreds of miles away, as he was writing down, “I’m gonna kill the President.”

  David rolled his eyes. “This isn’t productive.”

  “I’m just trying to show you how crazy it sounds.”

  “Like God sending me messages doesn’t sound crazy?”

  “Well, God has been sending messages since the beginning of time. I don’t see how this is any different.”

  “Sending messages? What messages has God sent?”

  “The entire Bible is a message from God, written by people who were moved by His Spirit.”

  “Allegedly.”

  “I could show you proof, but that would put us on a rather long rabbit trail, and I don’t think that’s what you came here for.”

  David was relieved to hear that. The last thing he wanted was another sermon about how the Bible is written by God even though men wrote it.

  Frank’s expression took on a gentle intensity. “You wanted to know if God can speak to people, and I would simply tell you this, when you look at a word, even a single word by itself, and you sense a confirmation––I believe that sensation is God’s Spirit. He’s been doing stuff like that since the foundation of the earth. I don’t see any reason why this kind of manifestation would be out of the realm of possibility for him.”

  David wiped his hand down his face. “I just don’t know. It all seems so mystical. I’m a nuts and bolts kind of guy. I need to see to believe.”

  “Perhaps you need to believe to see.”

  David was tired of riddles. “Believe to see. Gotcha. I’ll have to think on that one.” David looked up at the clock on the wall. “Sorry to cut this short, Frank, but I have to go. I have to pick up a friend at Logan. I appreciate you trying to help me.”

  “I don’t know if I helped at all, but I do hope you find your answers.”

  “I’m sure I will, buddy. Thanks.”

  “If there’s anything else I can do, let me know.”

  David rose. “Will do. You get better, okay?”

  Frank looked at him sympathetically. “Alright. Thanks again for dropping in. I’ll be praying for ya.”

  David smiled. “Sure, Frank.”

  He left the room and headed down the hall, unsure whether he was any better off for having visited. As far as David was concerned, if the messages were coming from God, that just opened up a whole bunch of new questions. And if his past experience with God was any gauge, he didn’t think God was interested in answering any of them.

  Chapter 8

  Ben stopped his bike, shoved the envelopes into the mailbox near the corner at the end of his street, and looked longingly at the worn path on the opposite side of the road. It led to the park where new playground equipment had just been added. He wanted to go check it out, but his mom had said to come right home. They were going to the funeral parlor to talk about arrangements for Uncle Brandon’s funeral. That was the last thing he wanted to do.

  Why can’t I just stay home? At ten, he thought he was old enough. Again, he looked toward the path, then heaved a sigh. He really didn’t want to go sit at a funeral parlor and think about the death of his uncle all day. He really didn’t want to think about anything at all.

  A pressing darkness enveloped his heart as he pushed down on the pedal, and the bike wobbled forward. As he made his way down the sidewalk, a dark blue van pulled into a driveway a few houses up; the tail end stuck out onto the sidewalk. Ben eyed the gap as he pedaled toward it. A dark skinned man jumped down from the passenger side and made his way around to the back. A similar looking man came around from the driver’s side. They opened the back doors, and Ben decreased his speed. There was no wa
y he could get around without riding in the street. Which would be worse, riding in the street, or getting too close to a couple of strange men standing at the back of an open van?

  He pivoted on his seat and looked over his shoulder at the traffic. I’ll just cross now and ride on the other... Violently the handlebars twisted as the bike came to a sudden stop, and he was launched into the air. The world went into a spin, and his elbows dug into the tar as he landed. He flipped over onto his back. His skin was on fire. He fought back tears and turned his head to see his bike lying next to him, and the deep pothole in the sidewalk beyond. Stupid hole...

  “You there, boy.” Ben’s body stiffened. “Are you okay?” The voice had a strong accent.

  “Y- yes.” He rolled over onto his belly and began pushing himself up.

  “Here let me help you.” The man reached down and gripped Ben by the arm. His grip was strong, much stronger than Ben could get away from. Panic burned in his chest, but he forced himself to stay calm.

  “You’re bleeding.” The man said examining his arm. “Do you live far from here?”

  Ben carefully pulled his arm away. Do I live far? Does he want to know if anyone is watching so he can kidnap me? “Ah––no. I live, just over there.” He motioned to a white house across the street, a few houses down.

  The man wore a leather coat, and as he turned to look across the street, Ben glimpsed a gun tucked into his pants. The boy’s heart pounded harder, but he forced his eyes away and pretended he hadn’t seen it.