Off The Pages
Chapter Fourteen

“Yeah,” Jericho said, checking into his hotel room in Oklahoma City. “This’ll be maybe my last stop. No, Ruth, it’s it. I don’t need more after this. No problem.” He tucked the phone away. The keycard slid into the slot and he plopped onto the bed. It had been one hell of a journey. A billion questions weighed on his mind, and he had a lot of work ahead of him. Saving the world always seemed like a fool’s errand before, but now, he saw that real action was within his grasp. They had tools now that never existed before. If nothing else, he would leave his mark upon this Earth to the betterment of all mankind. His polo, jeans, and undergarments hit the bed, and he got into the shower. He wouldn’t meet a client if he didn’t look the best.

After showering and drying, he put on his boxers and undershirt, and slid on his dress shirt. After buttoning it up, he drew his khakis up to his waist, tucking his shirt in. The vest went on next, then the coat, and finally, his blue stripe pattern tie. The Rolex went on his right wrist and then a spurt of breath spray in his mouth.

He dialed a number on his cell. “Hello?” he asked. “You may not know me…”

“Jericho Torvalds, right?” the aging voice said in a hint of a southern drawl.

A static charge of nervousness went through him. “Y…yes,” Jericho replied. “You saw me coming?”

“Didn’t have to. The Lord told me you were coming,” the man corrected. “Oh! Where are my manners? I’m Jack Hurst. I suppose you knew that.”

“Yes, Mister Hurst,” Jericho said, rolling his eyes. “And I take it you know why I’m calling?”

“Of course,” Jack answered. “You want to give me money if I give you some kind of power. Heh. Sorry; won’t work.”

That caught the billionaire by surprise. “Why would that be?”

“Simple,” the reverend protested. “I don’t have a power. I’ve been visited by the Lord.”

Jericho stifled a laugh. “I’m…I’m glad to hear that,” he said. “Nevertheless, you do, and I want to give you an offer.”

“That’s fine,” Jack answered, “You can come over in about a half hour. I’m not concerned because I have nothing to fear from you.”

“I assure you that you don’t,” Jericho said.

“Oh,” Jack mentioned, “one last thing. Be prepared to meet the Lord.”

“I…uh, I will,” Jericho said, hanging up. The man struck him as a little too much a zealot, but still, he hadn’t gone off the deep end, and he hadn’t heard anything about a sudden change in his churchgoers, so he figured whatever power he had, wasn’t that big of a deal. Still, just one more, and he would be done. So he wanted to get this over with. He activated his teleportation power, and within three jumps, stood at the end of the street Jack Hurst’s house sat on.

Walking down the street of the subdivision, he saw the two-story house standing at the end of a cul-de-sac. There were tire tracks where a car had left. One car sat in the driveway, an impressively maintained antique Cadillac. Jack Hurst would be inside the house. With a scan of his powers, he found the house…

Nothing.

His heart pounded a bit faster. His powers didn’t show anything inside the house.

Common sense told him to take off at once. Before he could do anything, however, the door slid open. In front of his eyes stood a well-dressed man, somewhere in his fifties, average height and build, a friendly smile on his face. It unnerved Jericho, though he didn’t know why. “Hi there,” Jack Hurst said. “Come on in.”

“Jericho Torvalds,” the billionaire introduced, extending his hand.

“Nice to meet you,” Jack replied.

Jericho flexed several of his powers at once. Nothing happened. An inner monologue started yelling at him to leave at once. For some reason, perhaps he didn’t want to be rude, he stepped into the house. What did he have to fear? He as Jericho Torvalds, after all.

As he sat in the loveseat opposite the man on the sofa, he found him difficult to read. The Wall Street investor prided himself on being able to spot manipulation and liars a mile away. It had been one of the reasons for his success. Yet, as he looked at this man, he saw neither a willing grift nor mental insanity. He saw a person who genuinely believed what he said. That didn’t sit right with Jericho. It meant he didn’t quite know what was coming next.

“Need something to drink?” Jack asked.

Jericho waved it off. “No, no thanks,” he replied. “I don’t want to take up too much of your precious time.”

Jack seemed to see something. “Need a rag?”

The billionaire looked puzzled, until something cold dripped on his hand. He raised it. Sweat, he noticed? When had he started sweating? “Uh,” he said, “yeah. Thank you.”

The man went into his kitchen and produced a towel. Jericho wiped his brow with it and set it on the coffee table. “I’m sorry about that,” he apologized. “Anyway, let me get straight to the point, Mister Hurst. My offer is simple: in exchange for copying your ability, I set up a series of investments in your name which will pay out around a hundred thousand a year for the rest of your life.”

“Hmm,” Jack said, grabbing a quick drink of water. “Interesting.”

Jericho pulled out his cell phone and started video recording with audio. “I just have one quick question, though,” he added, “one think that concerns me.”

“You want to know why you couldn’t read my mind or copy my power when you shook my hand,” Jack answered.

Jericho almost went limp right there as the man returned from the kitchen. “I…uh…” he stammered, “Yes?” The inner voice shouted at him to leave at once. He wanted to teleport out of there.

A Cheshire grin appeared on Jack Hurst’s face. “It’s simple,” he argued, “I told you. I’ve been visited by the Lord, and the Truth is right behind you.”

Jericho’s breathing became harsh. A glow shone from behind him. He closed his eyes. Don’t turn around, idiot, he thought to himself. After a long second, curiosity got the better of him. The glow faded and he turned around.

He turned around, and the shock of what he saw hit him like a truck.

“Oh, OH MY GOD!”

The Lord stood firm. He looked as though he’d stepped out of a romantic-era painting. The light brown hair, the pale skin and the beard all reminded him of every picture everywhere around America of Jesus. At once, the rational part of his mind shouted for attention as the primitive fear centers rattled him to his core. The fact that if Jesus were real, he wouldn’t look like a white man didn’t change his raging fear. The Lord smiled.

“You have spent your life running from me, child,” He spoke to Jericho. “Now is the time for you to make your most important choice: shall you bend the knee and accept that none get to the Father save through me, or shall you be gathered up like dry firewood, cast into the Lake of Fire, and burned?”

No, screw this, Jericho thought, I’m getting out of here. He teleported.

A breath caught in his throat. Oh no.

Nothing happened.

“That is most unfortunate,” The Lord spoke. He waved a hand and an invisible force caught the Billionaire and held him up in the air. The cell phone in his hand went flying off to the left. “You could have chosen salvation. Now you shall not escape judgment.”

A burning overtook Jericho as a brilliant light surrounded his whole body. An unearthly heat radiated out from his center and his flesh erupted into white-hot flames. He slammed on every durability and regeneration power he had at once, and it still tore through them like butter as they struggled to keep up.

Jack wiped his eyes. It hurt him to see one of God’s children refuse the love of their Father through the salvation of the Son. “You should have really accepted salvation,” he told the man. “My wife and kids haven’t even met the Lord yet. You were the first one besides me.”

Jericho screamed at the top of his lungs as he saw his limbs turning to charcoal and falling off. Regeneration caught up briefly, but the fire burned through it and he felt levels of pain no human had previously endured. Thoughts blurred together as he struggled to form coherent ideas for survival. Every escape power he had failed. His torso, all that was left of him, began to crumble as he frantically searched his collection for any power that would help.

He found a power he had almost forgotten he had and smashed it on. Nothing happened. A distorted warble passed through his lips as his voice began to falter. NO! I DON’T WANT TO DIE! His frantic mental shout died out.

The light faded and a small pile of ash wafted to the floor of the house. The man was no more.

Jack blinked away tears. “Is…” he stuttered, calming himself with all his will. “Is that it for him?”

“Sadly, yes,” The Lord spoke. He shook his head. “It is a tragedy to see any of my Father’s children reject his offer of salvation. For his denial, he suffered the ultimate judgment.”

Jack went to get a dustpan and broom. “Damn shame,” he said. “I wanted to save him.” The truth was, he wanted all the world to be saved and receive eternal life and happiness in God’s kingdom. However, no one could escape God’s truth. And the truth was, if someone like Jericho Torvalds loved money more than God, his punishment was deserved.

“Once we get our message to the masses,” The Lord replied, “you will be saving plenty. That is, if you have the strength to see it through.”

“I do, oh Lord!” Jack cried. S~ᴇaʀᴄh the FɪndNovᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“aaaaAAAARRGGHHH!”

Inside a hotel room in Oklahoma City, Jericho Torvalds appeared and collapsed onto the floor. “I did it!” he shouted, half delirious. “I sent myself back a few…OH SHIT!” Halfway through his sentence, a burning sensation erupted inside him. Steam began to pour off of his body as he tore off his clothes. No light emanated, and his regeneration seemed to handle it, but the pain seared through his very being. Still, he was alive. He’d sent himself back a few minutes.

He picked up the phone receiver and hammered the operator button. “Help…me…” he uttered. Then he faceplanted into the carpet.

“Oh! He’s waking up!” a female voice cried. “Nurse! NURSE!”

Jericho groggily blinked his eyes. He sat in a hospital bed and every part of him both ached and burned. “What?” he uttered. “Oh, Ruth!” He took a deep breath. He reached up and hugged her. “Oh, thank you!”

“My God,” she exclaimed. “What happened to you, sir?”

“You’re right,” Jericho quipped. He sat up, his head ringing. “I met Jack Hurst, he had a fake Jesus who burned me alive.”

“That’s…” she replied. “That’s rough, sir.”

“Yeah, well,” Jericho shot back, “I think there’s only one person who can fix me.”

“I’m glad to see you survived, sir,” Ruth answered, “and not just because you sign my paychecks. Where to now?”

“Saint Louis,” he replied. “I’ve got a friend to meet. We’re going to have a hell of a conversation.” He looked at the table. “Ah shit, my cellphone.”

“We didn’t find it,” she replied. “We’ll get you a new one when we get there.”

“Right,” he said. They stopped by the nearest pharmacy and got a prescription for Vicodin, which he popped along with a bottle of Perrier, and they flew to Lambert airport. From there, he teleported to Manny’s house.

“Hey, what’s…” Manny’s voice trailed off as he saw Jericho standing in front of him. “Jesus Christ, what happened to you?”

“Exactly,” Jericho said, smiling. “We have to talk. Now.” He pushed past the man.

They sat next to each other, with Jennifer holding his hand. The energy churning inside him perplexed her. It seemed to burn past several defenses and regenerations at once, only for the few remaining to outdo them at the last minute. She flexed her energy manipulation and struggled. The mysterious burning had a potency she hadn’t felt before. “So,” she said, “tell me what happened.”

“I went to see Jack Hurst,” Jericho explained, “and none of my powers worked once I got there. I should’ve left, but I wanted to see. I was curious. Anyway, he summoned a fake Jesus, and I swear, it looked like every painting ever of white Jesus.”

A sinking feeling came to Jennifer. “Just fucking great,” she lamented.

“Your nose is bleeding,” Jericho noticed.

“Gimme a minute,” she shot back. A bit further, and, with a final surge, she dissipated the destructive energy.

Relief washed over Jericho like an orgasm. “Oh, oh hell!” he shouted, gasping for breath. “Oh, thank you.”

“How did you survive?”

He stuck out his hand. “Here,” he offered. “It’s best if I show you.”

She took his hand, and then recoiled a moment later. “Goddammit!” she shouted.

“Yeah,” Jericho said. “Tell me about it.”

“You know what pisses me off about this?” she explained. “If it was Bugs Bunny or Superman, everyone would know it’s bullshit, but now, he’s going to reveal this to the world, and millions are just going to eat it up!”

“We’ve got to do something,” Jericho countered.

“That’s what gets me,” Jennifer said, a sense of dread washing over her. “Well, we were both worried about something big going wrong.” She cracked a sorrowful half-smile. “Here we are.”

“We can’t just fly out there and kill him,” the billionaire replied. “If we do, he’ll just be martyred.”

She pointed. “But you know he’s going to pull some horrific shit!” she shouted.

“Yeah, I know,” he lamented. “We’ve got to get allies.”

She folded her arms. “You want to bring my friends into this?”

He sighed. “In a word?” he asked. “Yes. Who else knows your secret and trusts you like they do? It’s best to start with what and who you know.”

A Chevy SUV pulled into the driveway of a familiar four-bedroom house. Three doors opened. “Alright!” Emily Hurst shouted. “You kids bring in the groceries before you bring in your stuff!” She was greeted by a two-man chorus of okays. As they darted from the cargo area to the front door, she grabbed her bags of clothes, which included two new dress shirts for Jack for his sermons. “Jack?” She set her bags on the couch. She found her husband sitting in the loveseat reading the bible. “Hey, Mister Lotherman across the street said he saw flashing lights and heard screaming from inside the house.”

Jack Hurst set the bible down. “Just an action movie,” he said. “Here, I’ll help with the stuff.”

“Thanks,” she said, as he got up and headed outside.

A small gray object caught her eye.

She knelt on the soft carpet and picked up a smartphone, which was lying on the ground pointing up at an angle. There was a slight indentation in the wall and a burn mark across the back. The screen had a hairline crack in it matching the indentation. Had this thing flown against the wall? How and why had that happened? She pressed the power button, and the dark screen flashed to life. It had no password locking it. She stuffed it into her pocket as her husband’s footsteps approached. Normally, she’d ask him about it but the suspicious circumstances piqued her interest.

“You got some great deals, honey!” Jack announced, setting three bags of clothes down on the couch.

“Thanks, dear,” she replied, heading for the stairs.

“I’m going to fold my shirts and dress pants and put them away,” Jack replied. “If you need help, just let me know.”

She mounted the stairs, heading for the spare bedroom. She locked the door behind her. The phone unlocked with a swipe, and she saw the video was recording. A press and the recording stopped, saving to the memory card. After scrolling for a few seconds, she found the file of the new recording, and played it from the beginning.

Almost at once, she recognized the man standing opposite her husband. He was that investor guy from Fox Business who had been travelling the country paying for superpowers. Her husband and the man had a conversation that struck her as odd. After a few more moments of nervous banter, her husband donned a look that creeped her out; she’d never seen him grin like that before.

Then the camera turned abruptly and caught the Lord in all his glory.

Her teeth clamped together to hold back a scream. At the same time, her mind fired off at least a thousand questions, not the least of which was, why hadn’t the Lord’s return been heralded by a great shout? All the world was supposed to hear the Lord give a great shout from the sky that would alert them to the second coming. Why hadn’t this happened? The question was answered for her when the Lord raised a hand and the phone went flying. It collided with the wall and fell in a position where it kept filming. She’d had the sense to turn the volume way down, and it was good she did.

Because what happened next caught her breath in her throat.

The rich man’s body lit up in a brilliant glow and he began to shriek like only a torture victim could. This persisted for about thirty more seconds before he vanished, leaving behind a pile of dust.

She closed the video, collapsing onto the bed and weeping silently. Her sorrow gave way to more terror: her husband had been accessory to murder, but also, he’d been taken in by the devil in disguise. Then, a rational part of her mind asserted itself, and she arrived at the terrible conclusion.

He had a power. That was the only reason Jericho Torvalds would be standing there.

Which meant he’d summoned the creature.

Which meant that he had committed murder.

Frantically, she searched through the contacts list. The newest contact was a…Jennifer Black? Where was that name familiar?

Her eyes went wide. She slammed the call button.

Jennifer was in the middle of a conversation with Jericho when her phone rang. She looked at it, at first confused, but then her gaze focused intently on it. “Who is it?” Jericho asked.

“It’s…you,” Jennifer said. “You’re calling me.”

She accepted the call. “Hello?” The woman’s voice said. “Is this…that woman who’s on the news for saving lives?”

“I am,” Jennifer replied. “Who’s this?”

“Emily Hurst,” she answered. “I need to speak to you.”

Jericho motioned. “Here,” Jennifer said, handing the phone over.

“Missus Hurst?” Jericho said, “Jericho Torvalds. Are you away from your husband right now?”

“Yes,” Emily replied. “I’m not safe here, or my kids, am I?”

“No,” Jericho said. “I have to get you and your kids out of there.”

There was a pause. “How do I know you’re going to help me?” she asked. “After all, you just wanted my husband’s powers for yourself.”

“Ma’am,” Jericho protested, “don’t be fooled by your husband’s tears; he did not hesitate to let his monster murder me. And let me be crystal clear: that was his monster he summoned, nothing more. If he thinks of himself as the right hand of God, your position as his wife won’t protect you. Same for your kids.”

“I…I guess,” she replied. “But how can you be sure of that?”

“Matthew ten verses thirty-four through thirty-six,” Jericho answered. “Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I have not come to bring peace, but a sword. For I have come to set a man against his father, and a daughter against her mother, and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law. And a person’s enemies will be those of his own household.”

She closed her eyes and wiped them. “I…I don’t…”

“Anyone who loves their father or mother more than me is not worthy of me,” Jericho continued. “Anyone who loves their son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me. Whoever does not take up their cross and follow me is not worthy of me.” He paused. “Do you want to take that chance?”

She blinked tears away. “I…how can I trust you?”

“I understand your concern,” Jericho replied, “but you need to understand. This creature of his is subtly being affected by his thought process. It isn’t fully autonomous. That means that as he gets lost deeper in this, he’s going to be more dogmatic. If you get in his way of getting to heaven, even by accident, he’ll have no problem removing you from the picture.”

“I…” She wiped her eyes. “Alright.”

“Honey,” Jack Hurst cried from downstairs, “are you okay up there?”

She held the phone at arm’s length. “Fine! Just a minute!” she yelled. She returned to the call. “Alright, I’ll trust you.”

“Find a way to get away from him,” Jericho advised. “Any excuse. Anything. Call me back.”

She hung up and shoved the phone back into her pocket. Descending the stairs, she put on a smile. A quick glance in the refrigerator saw that the meat had finished thawing out, so she set it on the counter on the aluminum foil. Jack walked into the kitchen, caressing her shoulder. “Everything alright, dear?” he asked.

“Just fine,” she said. “I’m going to start dinner.”

“Great!” he cheered. “I’ll get washed up. Kids! Get washed up for dinner!”

The two children followed their dad into the restroom to get washed up. She watched them walk by and had to remember to hide her sorrow. Why, Jack? Why would you do this? Her thoughts turned to dark places as she remembered the video. She didn’t understand and didn’t know if she ever would. One thing she decided, however, was that she didn’t want her children around someone who could murder.

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