I’m in the library and have read Daniel chapter 10 several times through (after taking just as long to look it up) and I still don’t understand anything. Something about Daniel having visions and a man looking like dazzling light with eyes like torches. Daniel’s terrified, seeing the guy, and I guess I would be too. For some weird reason I picture one of those guys from Blue Man Group, which I saw once with Mom and Dad. Instead of blue, he’s gold, but still looking weird like that.
Probably not a good sign, when reading the Bible makes me think of Blue Man Group.
I put the book back in the reference section where I found it and leave the library. For a moment I think of stopping in and seeing Mom, and maybe getting a free lunch, but I decide against it. I think of dropping in on Lily as well, but remember how great that went last time I tried it. I’m supposed to pick her up later for a party (which she was, no surprise, invited to).
I’m about to get on my bike when I hear it. A muffled sound, like a strange groaning. Like someone in pain.
I look toward the street but don’t see anybody.
Hey, look, it’s the mountain man with his big dog!
But nope, thankfully I don’t see him.
The groaning is coming from the alley between the library and the building beside it. It’s narrow, and light shows that you can get through the buildings to the other side by walking through.
In the middle of the pavement is a figure writhing in pain.
I rush to the person, a dark-haired guy clutching his hands to his face and making a loud, droning “ohhhhhhh” sound.
I stop a few feet away from him. Just to be safe. Just to be careful.
“Hey—are you okay? Hello?”
I see stubble on the man’s face as he peels his hands away.
I suddenly back up and almost trip over my own feet.
The man in the alley is missing his nose and a nice portion of his upper face. I let out a gasp and swallow and look to make sure I’m seeing the right thing.
The nose—where the nose used to be—is a bloody mess, and the upper part of his face—his cheek and his ear—looks like a bomb ripped it off. It’s dark red and bloody and pulsating.
Run get out of here get away.
The man opens his mouth wider, and I see blood dripping down its side.
Yeah, I run.
I bolt out of that alley and run down the sidewalk toward the police station.
This time they’re gonna do their job.
This time they’re gonna get off their butts and do something to help someone out.
I open the door and so hope that Sheriff Wells is there and yes.
Thankfully he’s there, standing by a desk and holding some kind of file.
I blurt out something that probably doesn’t make much sense, and he slows me down. I see Kevin Ross sitting at a desk, but I ignore him.
“Chris, what’s wrong—calm down.”
“You have to come—now—right now—someone’s dying in the middle of the alley.”
I go back outside and the sheriff follows me, along with Ross.
It’s only been a couple minutes. That’s all. That’s not long enough for someone to come and help the bleeding, dying man out of the alleyway.
And yet …
The alley is empty.
I go toward where I had seen him
and I did see him
to try and see if there are blood spots or anything.
But no.
“Chris?”
I shake my head, looking at the walls on either side, walking to the end of the alley and then back.
“What did you see?”
I close my eyes.
Here we go again.
I open them again and try to say something, but I can’t. I don’t know what to say.
“If this kid thinks he can keep wastin’ our time with these—”
“Ross, shut it,” Wells says. “Go on back to the station.”
Ross says a few nice curse words in my direction, and Wells tells him again to go. This time he obeys.
“What did you see?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know.”
“Yeah, you do.”
“I thought—I thought I saw a man—older—your age—lying in the alley bleeding to death.”
“Bleeding how?”
“His—he was moaning, and I heard him.” I shake my head again and look at the sheriff. “I know—I don’t blame you for not believing me.”
“I’m not sayin’ I don’t believe you.”
“Yeah, well there’s nothing here.”
“I’ve made that mistake before,” he says. “I don’t like repeating it.”
For a few minutes he checks out the alley and the surrounding buildings. Then he walks me back to my motorcycle. I already know the question is going to come before he utters it.
“Is everything okay, Chris?”
“Yeah—yes.”
“Are you sure?”
I wonder if this man ever sits around a table laughing and playing board games and telling jokes with his family or friends. Maybe he does, but I’ve only ever seen him looking stern and grim. His hair and goatee look more thick and gray than usual.
“I saw something.”
“Tell me, Chris—did this man look like he got beaten up?”
“No.”
“No?”
“He looked—it was worse than that. A lot worse.”
Sheriff Wells nods. “Listen—I’ll check around the town for anything strange. You go on home.”
“Okay.”
“And Chris—don’t tell anybody else what you saw. Just—keep it between us.”
I nod.
Not that anybody would believe me anyway.