Lukas put the gun on the ground and inserted the key into the padlock. It was chilly outside now; he could feel the cold evening air on his neck. He unlocked the padlock and lifted up the heavy wooden hatch. He shone his flashlight into the dark space. The light swept down a long ladder and hit the concrete floor some meters farther below. He stuck the gun into the lining of his trousers and descended the ladder. The boy and Rakel were standing with a blanket wrapped around them when he reached the bottom. He pointed the light at them but lowered it when he saw them shield their eyes against the strong beam.
“I’m Jesus,” he said, making his voice as calm as he could. “Don’t be scared, I’m not here to hurt you.”
He shone the flashlight around the room and found what he was looking for. A jerry can in front of a shelf stacked with cardboard boxes. The boy and Rakel crossed the concrete floor and came toward him reluctantly.
“Can we go now?” the boy asked tentatively.
“Yes, you can go now,” Lukas said. “Go with God. The gate is open.”
He caught a glimpse of the boy’s eyes as he passed him in the cold room.
“Thank you,” Tobias said, placing his hand gently on Lukas’s arm.
“I am Jesus.” Lukas smiled again and showed them the way with the flashlight, so that the boy and Rakel could see the ladder.
He waited until they had both crawled out through the hatch before he aimed the flashlight at the shelves again and found the jerry can. It was heavy, but he managed to carry it up the ladder, dragging it with his flashlight tucked under one arm. He closed the hatch and stood watching the stars for a moment. He had rarely seen a more beautiful sight. Hope and joy twinkled across the sky. He smiled to himself as he crossed the yard.
The pastor was standing inside the church in front of the altar at the end wall, with his back to Lukas. He turned when he heard Lukas enter.
“How did it go?” The pastor smiled, walking toward him with open arms.
He stopped, shocked, in the middle of the church when he saw what Lukas had in his hand. Lukas had drawn the gun from the lining of his trousers and was holding it in his outstretched arm with the muzzle pointing straight at the pastor’s chest.
“Lukas? What are you doing?”
“I’m saving you.” Now Lukas smiled, walking softly toward the man with the white hair.
“What do you mean, my Son?” the pastor asked, gritting his teeth. “Come to me, my Son. Give me the gun. You don’t know what you’re doing.”
He held out his arms toward the young man with the blond hair.
“Shhh,” Lukas said, his eyes sparkling now. “Haven’t you realized it yet?”
“W-what?” the pastor stammered.
“That the devil is inside you.”
“You’re talking nonsense, my Son,” the white-haired man sputtered.
“No,” Lukas said gravely. “The devil has taken residence in you, but it’s not too late. I was put on this earth to save you. This is my mission.”
“What the hell, Lukas . . . ?”
“Don’t you see?” Lukas said calmly. “The devil has taken your heart. He’s talking through your mouth. We don’t treat children like that. We don’t treat people like that. We help them, we don’t hurt them. That’s not the will of God. It’s not your fault. You’re innocent. The devil tricked you. He got you to invite him in. Took your soul. Made you want to hurt other people. Everything will be all right now, Father. We can travel right now. We don’t need to wait. Let us go to heaven together.”
“Give me that gun, you damned . . . !” the pastor screamed frantically, but it was too late.
Lukas pulled the trigger, shot the white-haired man twice in the chest, and dropped the gun on the church floor. The pastor was flung backward by the heavy blow and collapsed gasping in front of him. Lukas opened the jerry can and started pouring its contents along the walls. He took his time. They were in no hurry. The smell of gasoline started wafting through the small church. Pastor Simon was lying on his back on the floor, his mouth half open, watching Lukas with panicky eyes, clutching his chest with stiff, spasmodic hands. How beautiful, Lukas thought when he saw the fresh blood trickle in small streams across the newly polished floor. He tipped out the rest of the gasoline by the altar and returned to the pastor, who was grasping his throat now, trying to say something, but only gurgling noises emerged from his mouth.
“Don’t be scared,” Lukas said, stroking the pastor’s white hair.
He stood up again and took a lighter from his pocket. Checked to see if it worked. Watched the little flame flicker in front of him. He started in one corner. The gas quickly caught fire. He went over to the other side, put the lighter to the floor, ignited the fuel, and continued until the whole of the white church was filled with burning light. He threw aside the lighter, went back to the pastor, knelt by his side, and held his hand. The church was ablaze now—curtains, walls, the floor, the altar. Lukas smiled to himself and started chanting. He carefully stroked the pastor’s white mane.
“Can you see the devil? He’s leaving you now. Isn’t it wondrous?” The young man laughed.
The pastor stared at him, horrified. His body was shaking. The blood was pouring out of the holes in his chest.
The flames started licking the ceiling. The whole building was burning now.
“I’ll see you at home, Father.” Lukas smiled.
And closed his eyes.