Shelter From the Fire

“Come in, come in, there’s room for all!” I greeted people as they pulled up into the church’s moderately sized parking lot, hordes of displaced families coming from as far as twenty miles away in search of shelter, having nowhere else to go. The thing is, disasters know no class barriers; everyone is affected, rich or poor. Mercedes and BMW’s pulled up along side El Camino’s and dusty Ford pick-ups as black folks, Mexicans and whites grabbed their meager supplies-face masks or handkerchiefs over their mouths and noses to keep from breathing the smoke-and dashed inside. “Take your time, no pushing please!”

I’d been running this church for over fifteen years, home to a small crowd of non-denominational parishioners and, whenever a natural disaster occurred, I opened my doors as a shelter, inviting one and all.

“Father, can we bring our German Sheppard in?” A woman in a tight, form-fitting dress-revealing ample cleavage-asked me, leaning over to pet the dogs head, giving me a better view.

“But of course my child, all creatures great and small are welcome into my kingdom.” I said, quoting scriptures. I loved doing that-it made me sound more official. I think regular folks got off on it too; it made them feel as if they were in good hands.

“Thank you Father.” She said, her eyes meeting mine coyly, and she and her dog-followed by two small children and a harried looking husband-crossed the threshold, making camp off to the left side, under the stained glass portrait of ‘Our Savior’ Jesus Christ. A good spot, I must say, as the light displays a certain ethereal quality, filtered through the colored glass.

The South California wildfires had been burning for three days now, eating up hundreds of thousands of acres in it’s path. It started thirty-five miles east of my church, up in the Palomar Mountains and, due to the strength of the Santa Anna Winds, I knew it would only be a matter of time before evacuees started to trickle in. The mechanics of a southern California wildfire is a simple recipe that consists of one part dry weather, two parts excessive overgrowth and bone dry kindling, three parts hot weather, low humidity and fierce winds followed by a tiny spark and voila! You got yourself a wildfire. Thanks to the swift Santa Anna air currents you soon have a blaze that’s hard to contain because it is constantly shifting around, changing directions. You think it’s headed east and next thing you know it heads west. Tricky little bastards, they are. And they are hard to fight because of those same winds; dropping water by air isn’t as effective because the water is scattered by the heavy gusts and little, if any, actually makes it onto a concentrated area, rendering the whole process pretty damn useless. Sometimes the only thing you can do is hole up, wait and pray.

This year the wildfires are the worst they’ve ever been, worse then the Cedar Wildfire of 2003. Oh, I remember that last one, I had the church filled to the rafters and everyday we sang, prayed and shared our daily bread, which was whatever we could provide for ourselves with the help of the Red Cross. The people and I, well, we kept our spirits up the best we could, and folks came to me with their troubles and I did my best to console them, being a messenger of God and all. Some needed soothing in private, away from prying eyes, so I would take them to the back, into the rectory, where I would offer them what the good Lord chose to bequeath upon me at birth. Doing spiritual work is sometimes sweaty work, draining, so I kept a good supply of holy wine that we could sip from to keep our strength up as the healing became more arduous. Sometimes my troubled parishioner would cry out as the healing hand of the Lord brought them to the threshold of their faith, and they writhed and moaned beneath me in an ecstasy as our souls danced and mingled as one. Wonderful times, those, and I am a man who enjoys putting his all into his work. There’s nothing quite like the pride of knowing you gave it everything you’ve got.

I suspect there will be quite of bit of consoling I’ll need to do this time around and believe me, I am ready.

“Father, I don’t want to trouble you right now…”

I turned and took in the woman wearing the tight fitting dress, saw how her make-up was smeared in places, how her lips trembled.

“It is no trouble at all my dear, truly. What is it that I can do for you?” I kept my eyes on hers but when she looked away for a moment I glanced at the swell of her bosom, drinking in their earthly beauty. What, dear brothers and sisters, was more intoxicating then the curve and form of female breasts?

“We weren’t able to bring much food with us, and we have maybe four or five bottles of water…”

“My dear child, what is mine is yours. In this, your time of need, it is I that am your humble servant. Just ask and what you need shall be granted.”

“Well, my kids are thirsty and my dog could probably use some water as well…”

“Certainly. Why don’t you come to the rectory with me and I shall retrieve you some of my own supply.”

“Oh Father, I couldn’t ask you to share your provisions with us!”

“Nonsense! I have prepared for this day since 2003, knowing that the time would draw near that famine and drought would be upon us. It would be my pleasure to serve you.” And here I put out my arm for her to take. “If you would just kindly escort me.”

“Of course.” She said, linking arms with me, and we walked down the aisle to the front of the church as new arrivals placed their belongings wherever they could find room, making themselves as comfortable as they could under the conditions.

“Father, please, if I could have a moment of your time.” A man said to me, taking hold of my sleeve.

“Yes, my son?” I said, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice, maintaining a serene expression that was meant to fill an empty soul with holy rapture of the divine spirit.

“I need a word with you,” He said anxiously. “Alone if that is possible.”

“Let me attend to this woman’s needs and then I shall return and offer you anything I have.” I said pleasantly yet sternly. “Will that do?”

“No Father, it will not. I need to speak with you now.” He replied, his eyes shifting apprehensively as he scanned the others that were making my chapel their home.

“Very well.” I sighed, disengaging my arm from the woman’s. “Darling, I have to tend to one of my flock’s needs but then I assure you I shall be back to take care of yours.”

“Sure Father, I understand.” She said, unruffled. “We can wait a little longer.”

“Thank you my child. I will most certainly return.” I said, then turned to the man before me. “Now, what is it I can do for you brother?”

“Can we go somewhere in private? I need to speak with you alone.”

“This way.” I said, leading him to the rectory. It had been my destination but not with this sort of company. Sometimes any port in a storm would do, but under these conditions I was quite sure that I had other resources. Nonetheless, I would find out what this gentleman wanted of me so as to make my way back here under more favorable circumstances.

When we approached my chamber I allowed him to enter then closed the door behind he and I. I bade him to take a seat in a large leather recliner while I took up a position before my sacred cabinet.

“May I offer you something to drink?” I asked, taking out a bottle of sacrament wine and a couple of chalices.

“No Father, I’m fine thank you.”

“Very well.” I poured myself a steep glass and sipped it luxuriously. I then took a seat in an adjacent chair and eyed him thoughtfully. “Now, my son, what is it I can do for you?”

“Well Father, I don’t know if you remember me or not, but I was sheltered here during the Cedar Fire of 2003.”

I looked at him more closely, scrutinizing his features.

“I can’t say that I do.”

“Well, I don’t take it against you, you are a very active man during these times of crisis.”

There was something about his tone I didn’t like, something that rang a little too much on the caustic side.

“Indeed. There are many troubled souls that need the help of my council, many folks that need their sins washed in the blood of the lamb…”

“Save your fucking mumbo-jumbo for somebody who actually buys it preacher-I for one am on to you.”

“Oh?” I arched an eyebrow curiously. “And what is it that you are ‘onto’?”

“Don’t play games with me, don’t think I don’t know what you are doing.”

I took a rather expansive sip of my wine, savoring the flavor of the sacred grapes.

“I see.” I said, lapsing into silence for a moment, hoping to draw him out.

“Do you?”

“Perhaps.” I said, taking another long drink and then setting the glass down. “Is it healing you are looking for? Is that what you are after?” I reached up and unbuttoned my top button, pulling my collar out and letting it hang crookedly for a moment as I eyed him closer, wetting my lips ever so slowly.

His face formed a look of disgust.

“God no!” He cried, standing up. “I don’t think you understand the severity of what it is that I am trying to communicate to you!”

And then it became crystal clear in my mind what it was that this man was referring to, and I knew that I had to act soon or it would all be over, and quickly at that.

“All right my son,” I said, standing as well, casually reaching into my back pocket as I kept my eyes firmly on his. “You have me in a rather tight spot here. Maybe there is something that I can offer you to make you forget what you know?”

“Keep your wallet in your pants old man. Nothing you have can stop me from alerting everybody about you” He said, his voice slowly rising. “It’s long time that you were stopped.”

“Of course, I understand.” I said, creeping closer, gripping the object I drew from my back pocket tightly, making sure it wouldn’t slip from my sweat slippery hands…
* * *
“Please, everyone, if I could have your attention!” I addressed the crowd, standing up on the altar, behind the pulpit. I’d adorned my clerical robe for the occasion, knowing it would make more of an impression. The people quickly stopped talking, turning their heads my way. “Thank you, thank you. Please, be seated.” I requested and the people found their way to the pews and sat down.

“First of all I want to welcome you all to the First Advent Church of Christ Our Savior.” I said and people muttered greetings in return, nodding their heads.

“I want you to know that all your needs will be met as best as they can and that I am here for each and every one of you.” I paused, looked down at the pulpit for a moment-actually just trying to create a dramatic effect-then resumed my stare at somewhere above their heads, occasionally looking a few of them in the eyes individually.

“I will address all of your concerns in the order they are presented to me, and shall direct you in any way you please.” I paused again, looking around the room. “The TV has ongoing coverage of the crisis at hand and the Red Cross will be arriving at intervals with fresh supplies. So far we still have power and there is drinkable water flowing from the taps. Let me assure you that everything is going to be all right.”

I closed my own comments and opened the floor for questions, which, thankfully, there were few. I was getting anxious to be alone with the woman in the tight dress and knew that I had to satisfy that urge before I slipped and did or said anything that would not become me. Taking off my robe, I approached the woman where she was huddling with her family, told her I was ready to supply her with some personal items, for her and her family. To my chagrin, her husband stood up.

“I can get it honey, you just stay with the kids.” He said, turning from her and smiling at me.

“But, but the lady, um, she, that is I…” I found myself floundering, not wanting to lose my edge on the moment but seeing it slip away. “There was something that I needed to show her, something I think she would be greatly interested in.” Sweat was trickling down my brow but it is amazing how blind some people can be; based on the fact that I was a priest the husband accepted what I said, nodding curtly.

“Alright, you go on along with him honey, but remember Sadie will need a bowl for the water.”

“I have a bowl in the back.” I said thickly, swallowing something that tasted like paste. “Just come with me.”

And I lead the woman to the back of the church, past the altar, to the rectory. Once we were inside I wasted no time locking the door behind us. Since the man I’d attended to in here earlier had assured me there were several key documents in place should his job be interrupted, so to speak, I believed that this wasn’t going to take up that much time, seeing as I didn’t have to persuade her, hence making her actions voluntary. I went behind my desk and, opening a drawer, removed a length of rope and a ball gag.

“Father,” She laughed, seeing the items as I placed them on the desktop. “What are you doing?”

“Well,” I said civilly, keeping my voice calm, my manner slow and practiced. “It would seem that someone has found out about my role in these wildfires, something I’m sure they wished they never learned, seeing how circumstances turned out.”

“What?” She asked, staring at me dumbly as I slowly approached, the piece of rope clutched loosely in my right hand, the ball gag in the other.

“Let’s just say that this person had become aware that the fires weren’t merely an accident, weren’t merely an ‘act of nature’ so to speak.” I said this as I reached her side, taking one of her hands in mine, bringing it to my lips and kissing it ever so slightly.

“Of course they are an accident!” She said, her voice shrill, threatening to get louder unless the gag and I intervened. “Who in their right mind would start these fires on purpose…?” Her eyes suddenly grew wide as she really looked at me for the first time since we’d entered the room. My face was running sweat, my eyes beady, nostrils flaring as I breathed heavily, panting actually. “You mean you-” She only got as far as saying before I hit her over the head viciously and clamped the gag between her lips, securing it behind her head. I then quickly tied her hands together behind her back and laid her on the floor, tearing at the dress, ripping it off her petite frame.

She was on the verge of losing consciousness when her eyes caught something behind me, something I had only half-concealed in the closet. Suddenly her baby blues were open wide and her throat convulsed to let out a scream she had no physical power of releasing. I turned my head and looked in the direction she was, relishing the sight of the godamned whistle blower lying face down in a pool of his own blood, then turned and offered her my most pious of smiles, my most Benedictine expression.

“Come child,” I wheezed, using all my strength to restrain her. “Let us pray together…”