32
By the time I got to the house, Jimmy had been removed from the shed and was lying on a gurney. Sandra cradled his limp hand. A police cruiser skidded into the yard beside me, joining the emergency squad and the cruiser that were already there.
Since there was an oxygen mask over the boy’s face, I assumed he was alive, at least for the moment. I ached to comfort Sandra, but my concern was for my daughter.
I could smell the urine before I got to the shed, but this time it angered me rather than sickened me. Only someone without any human warmth could leave a child to die in his own waste. Clenching my fists together, I wished I were at the hospital. When Jack woke up, would he roar and wail as Barbara had in the attic? Maybe I should have warned the paramedics. But would they have believed me?
Someone was in the shed with Trina; it was a police officer. The tape was already off her face, but it had taken the skin with it. Drops of blood had formed on her lips. Now the officer was working on freeing her ankles.
I stumbled through the trash toward her.
“Dad, they called Ted.” Her voice was raspy, and I gritted my teeth against the hate that gushed within me.
The officer turned, and smiled.
“Studler. I should have known.”
“I was on my way to the hospital, but turned around when the call came in.”
“Did he hurt you?” I gave Trina a hug then worked on the tape that secured her arms to the ladder.
Once released, Trina winced as she moved her arms stiffly in front of her.
Doors banged, and I glanced out into the yard. A second emergency unit and the third police cruiser had arrived.
“Can you walk?” Officer Studler asked. “I can carry you.”
“I can carry her,” I replied.
“No one is going to carry me. I need to see Jimmy. Just help me get up.”
With me on one side and the ever present Officer Studler on the other, Trina struggled to her feet. She self-consciously rearranged her tee shirt and shorts.
“You don’t have on any shoes,” I blurted out.
Trina was already picking her way through the shed, and before I could grab her, she half stumbling, half sprinted across the yard toward Jimmy.
Shouldering her way past the paramedics, she gripped Jimmy’s arm. I could see her talking to him, even though he didn’t appear to hear. Intravenous fluid was running into his body, and the oxygen mask covered most of his face. The raw and oozing neck I had seen in the shed was now swaddled in a white bandage. After a few moments, the paramedics gently removed Trina and loaded the cart with the boy into the back of the ambulance. Sandra turned and looked my way as she climbed in beside him. It would take an act of God to keep Sandra away from Jimmy.
The paramedics led Trina to a second gurney. I positioned myself a respectful distance as the paramedics examined her. Officer Studler stood with me.
A car roared into the yard. Ted was out the driver’s door before the engine completely died. “Trina!”
He enveloped his wife in his long arms. Wiping tears from his face, he moved to the side, still clutching Trina’s hand with both of his.
One of the paramedics walked our way and addressed Officer Studler. “Do you need anything from her before we head out?”
Acid burned my throat. “You aren’t taking her where they took Jack, are you?”
“It’s the closest hospital.”
“You can’t take her there! Don’t you understand? Jack tried to kill her. By now he’s probably awake—he’ll try to finish what he started.”
Both men were staring at me, but it was Officer Studler who spoke. “Mr. Iver, trust me. Every police officer off duty has called in and volunteered to work. You don’t believe this, but we care about your daughter and Jimmy Roberts. There are more officers in that hospital right now than there are doctors.”
He grinned at his own joke, and some of the tightness in my chest released. “Take her where she can get the best care.”
I looked over at Trina, propped up on the gurney with Ted still clinging to her hand. Two other paramedics stood, waiting.
“Nothing will happen to her,” Officer Studler repeated.
For once, I believed him.
The paramedics wheeled Tina toward the back of the ambulance.
Ted jogged over. “I’m going with Trina. I’ll follow in my car.”
“Should I come too?”
“No, it’s OK.” He turned and smiled at his wife. “I’ll take care of her now.”
His voice choked as he turned back to me. “Trina told me you found her. I don’t know how… I should have…”
I squeezed the young man’s shoulder. “Take her to the hospital, and keep her safe. We’ll talk later.”
The yard looked like a war zone, with officials taping, photographing and measuring.
Officer Studler clapped me on the back. “I have to give you credit. When you set out to do something, you get it done. How on earth did you find them?”
How on earth? Officer Studler was looking on earth for the solution, and it wasn’t there.
After searching for weeks for a meaning to my experience in the attic, and not finding one, I finally had resolution.
My ghost boys were from God. Visions or real, I didn’t know and it really didn’t matter. God had sent them to me so I could help bring Jimmy home. I looked around the yard again, knowing it was in vain, but doing it anyway. The ghost boy was gone. I probably would never get to thank him for leading me to Trina and Jimmy.
“You know, Studler’s an unusual name.” I tried not to snicker.
“You wouldn’t believe the teasing I got at school. And I was the shortest kid in my class until my senior year. The bullies made the most of it, but it made me tough.”
Officer Studler and I finished our fifth interview just as the dog warden arrived to take the Rottweilers to the animal shelter.
Maybe there was more to Officer Studler than I thought. “I’m really sorry I gave you such a hard time the first dozen times we met.”
“You’re an all-right guy, for an old man.” He chuckled as he headed toward the snarling dogs.
I was alone and unneeded.
As soon as my hand touched the knob on the back door, I heard a voice. “Command it to leave.”
I turned, but no one was there. The voice sounded odd, but I didn’t know why. You’re turning into a spooky old man. Get a grip. First ghosts, now voices.
Unnerved, restless, on guard, I half expected the boogie man to jump out any moment. Come on, shake it off. It’s been a hard day, but don’t fall to pieces now.
Noticing a smudge of dirt on the cabinet, I reached to brush it off.
“Command it to leave.”
My hand jerked away from the cabinet as though I had touched a hot stove.
Now I knew what was strange about the voice. I wasn’t hearing it with my ears, but with my brain. The voice was in my head: unique, not my own, and not heard through my ears.
The voice also differed from the one I had heard coming from Barbara’s mouth. That voice had menace. This one held power.
Disturbed, but not sure what to do, I wandered through the house. My footsteps echoed loudly in the quiet rooms. Without conscious purpose, I walked up the stairs and down the hall.
Stopping at the door of my room, I instantly knew what the words meant. Just last night it had been there, in my room.
I have to be crazy. Sane people don’t hear voices.
Evil spirits go for the big guys, hang around satanic worship centers, spend time making plans with Satan on how to destroy world peace.
Still standing in the doorway, I examined the space in front of me. There were no black flying creatures, no monsters with red eyes and forked tongues. Sniffing, the room smelled like my aftershave, not fire and brimstone and sulfur.
This used to be a haven for me. I couldn’t wait to come to it, to close the door and be alone in my space.
Over time, something had changed, and the room —or something in it—had turned against me. I knew what had changed. Me. The change was my commitment to a renewed relationship with God.
I trust you, God. But this needs more than faith. I can’t cast out evil spirits, especially when I’m not sure they’re really here.
I had thought the presence in the room to be the ghost boys. After last night and now finding Jimmy, I knew I was wrong.
“Command it to leave.” The voice was calm, but had authority.
Am I insane?”
God doesn’t “speak” to people, not like this. God speaks through the Bible. That’s why we have the Bible: to study and learn God’s will.
God does not speak to a nobody.
Yearning to go back down stairs, to leave the room behind, I still stayed. There was no supernatural power holding me, I could have walked away, but I didn’t.
The house is empty; what do I have to lose except some personal self-respect? No one will know I’m making a fool of myself.
Shifting from foot to foot, I tried to decide, still not sure.
The room was silent, expectant, watching. My hands sweated like those of a boy caught in a lie.
How do I do this? Is there a right or wrong way to cast out demons? No one taught this to me in Sunday school, that’s for sure.
I took a deep breath. God help me through this. I raised my arms in an imitation of Charlton Heston, except my arms were shaking.
“This house belongs to God,” I warbled, feeling awkward. “You are not welcome here.”
No black hands of death stretched across the room for me.
“I command you to leave this house, in the name of Jesus the Son of God.”
No respectable demon will fear that quavering command.
A tingling sensation filled me, as though a current of electricity passed through my body. Every hair on my outstretched arms stood straight up.