Chapter Thirteen

   A SHORT distance from the city gate David brought his Honda to a halt and pointed to a dark object lying in the middle of the freeway. It proved to be (as Chris had guessed) a pouch dropped from the helicopter. On opening it David took out a dispatch case and read by the light of his vehicle, "Proceed to Oasis Motel one mile ahead, where you will find Mustang. Your rooms have been reserved and your lodging paid for. Get a good rest, you deserve it. God in your heart. [signed] The Hikers."

   It was not long before a tearful reunion took place in the lobby of the motel between Manly Hooper and his daughter. After a few moments the Sergeant greeted David and then Chris. Hooper invited them to bow their heads in prayer while he thanked God for deliverance and asked Him to rescue the remainder of his family from darkness. Then Hooper said to Chris, "Friend, I would like the honour of presenting my youngest, Carol. I never expected to see her again. She and I have been separated by the generation gap—that's just one of the gaps in Pridesburg. But something occurred tonight at the Fair while she was listening to your friend Rusty."

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   "What was that?" asked Chris.

   "Let her speak for herself."

   Carol looked at her father and then at Chris. "I found the Lord," she said gravely.

   Chris smiled as he took her hand and looked at the pretty, freckled face mostly hidden by wild-appearing hair. "What a wonderful thing to happen," he said. ''I might have guessed you were Hooper's daughter. You saved my life, and I only wish it could have been Rusty''s."

   ''I didn't do anything," she protested.

   ''Just tell me why you did it."

   Carol wrinkled her nose. "I really expected us all to die," she said. "You know, ever since my sister went to that sneer meeting two weeks ago I've been—well, kind of bothered. Then when Mr. Ness talked to the people the way he did about Christ, I knew what it was. God spoke to me right there."

   "But you must have known something before," said Chris. "You had the escape all worked out."

   "That's because we heard a rumour that Dad had been arrested with you. But I didn't see him anywhere. Then when they started the Act of Apostasy, and I saw that your friend was the main target and had already been hit, I decided to try to get you out."

   "Did you kill the stage lights?" asked Chris.

   "I don't know. I just saw a cord as I was climbing up the front, and pulled it."

   "What a girl!"

   "Mr. Anders," said Carol, "you had a lot more going for you than that. I don't understand how the

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UFO's suddenly stopped, and the helicopter showed up, and the guards disappeared, and the iron gate opened by itself, and all the rest. It was like a film."

   "A very remarkable person named Charity gave me a button, said Chris, reaching in his pocket. "It says all-prayer. That's the answer."

   Hooper laid his hand on the broad-shouldered young man next to him. "David,' he said, "you risked your life in this business without even knowing why."

   "Say it was the excitement," David grinned.

   ''Or the girl?' Chris raised an eyebrow.

   David continued: ''I did catch some of what Mr. Ness was saying to the people before they drowned him out. I could hear him on the amplifier but I'm not sure I followed his meaning. Anyway, that package we picked up back there should help."

   "What was in it?"

   David lifted his arms. "Three passports to Life City: one for Carol, one for her Dad and one for me."

   "Praise the Lord!" said Manly. "We live again! A new copy of God's Word. And may I say that this is one Bible that won't get lost in Pridesburg, or Doomsdale, or Sodom or Gomorrah."

   They retired soon afterward, and the next day was spent quietly at the motel putting their clothes in order and attending to various ailments. Carol had received a number of minor cuts from broken glass. Chris spent a long time soaking his ankle. In the afternoon they all gathered at the swimming pool and shared a study hour together with their Bibles. Here it was decided they would continue on to Life City

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with the three vehicles until they received further instructions. Hooper reported that the Mustang's wheel bearing had been repaired, that road conditions were excellent and good weather was promised. Accordingly after another night's sleep, breakfast and prayer, the little caravan checked out of the Oasis Motel and took to the road. The Mustang assumed the lead with Chris driving, and the two Hondas followed. Hooper—a sergeant no more—had out-fitted himself in slacks and a wool shirt for the trip.

   "I believe," said Chris, as the Mustang purred through a grassy upland, "that a sheep is about as stupid an animal as you'll find on this earth."

   "Not necessarily," rejoined Hooper. "Sheep can be trained. Besides, they don't make war, or choke the atmosphere, or kill the fish."

   "No, but look at 'em nibbling out there, ruining the pasture. Sheep seem to operate purely by herd instinct. Never go where they're supposed to. Utterly helpless to defend themselves. I say they have no brains whatever, just solid mutton."

   "Perhaps," mused Hooper, "that's why our Lord called us sheep."

   "I'd resent that," grinned Chris, ''if it were from someone else. Now you take a computer—there's something that makes sense."

   "You're not serious,'' said Hooper, "but I can tell you they are very serious about computers in Pridesburg. In fact they are making plans to canonize one next year some time. Then say it's the first step toward making it an idol."

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   Chris's eyes glistened. "Think of the advertising programme you could work up to kick it off. 'Process Control proudly announces its first Demon!' " The Mustang began to swerve and he pulled it back. "Perhaps I'd better switch channels. Do you realize we're climbing again?"

   "I believe we're in the Delectable Mountains," said Hooper. "The summit is about six thousand feet."

   "Rusty used to talk about these hills," reflected Chris. "If that's where we are, we're in fruit country. And there's some kind of—I forget what he called it, but it was a—''

   "Camp meeting?"

   "Probably."

   With the two Hondas following, they wound into a fertile valley where the grassland was interrupted by small orchards and farms abounding in a variety of fruit and nut-bearing trees. Roadside stands offered samples of fresh delicacies. After a stop or two they reached the summit in late morning and began a descent into open country. By noon they arrived at a roadside sign: GOSPEL CAMP MEETING AND BARBECUE, ALL HANDS INVITED.

   "That's what I call timing," said Chris, looking at his watch as he pulled up to wait for the Hondas. "David," he called out as the young man drew alongside, "how do you like your steak?''

   "Right now, sir," was the rejoinder.

   Less than a quarter-mile off the road they found the encampment in a cuplike valley surrounded by hills on which cattle were grazing. Cars, caravans and

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cabins were grouped about a clump of trees at a sort of spa or watering place. The focal point of activity was a large, rectangular structure consisting of a corrugated tin roof set on poles. Underneath it a barbecue pit gave off succulent smells of roasting meat and strong coffee. Scores of persons in casual country dress were lined up in front of the pavilion, and as the four travellers made a hesitant approach they were welcomed and loaded down with paper plates, napkins, knives, forks and coffee mugs.

   An easy-going atmosphere prevailed. At the end of the shed a cowboy with guitar was twanging,

All my sins are gone,

All because of Calvary. . . .

During lunch it developed that Bible study was over for the day and the afternoon was to be given to rest and recreation. Since the new arrivals were still feeling the effects of their escape from abaddonland and hospitality was eagerly pressed upon them, they elected to remain overnight. After some rearrangement, a double and a single cabin were made available, and that evening the travellers joined several hundred others in a warm evangelistic service held under a full moon, with a tree stump serving as pulpit and paraffin lamps providing illumination. The leathery-faced speaker was introduced as the Reverend André LaBourd, a local sheep-herder. His message was from John 10:11, ''The good shepherd giveth his life for the sheep." It was a beautiful discourse, filled with homely illustrations of pastoral life. At one point he

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asked his audience to lean back and fix its gaze on the stars.

   "We who herd sheep in the Delectable Mountains hear things at night that others sleep through," he said. "We hear the cry of a sick lamb. We sometimes hear a coyote pack disturbing the flock. But we also hear music. The Bible teaches that the stars make glorious music. Listen with your heart and you will hear them now, singing, 'Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace.' That is because someone is coming home to God tonight. Someone is going to put his life in the hands of his Creator, and say, 'Come into my heart, Lord Jesus.' Voila! That is why the stars sing. That is what the shepherd hears. And you can hear it too."

   When the invitation was given David and Carol were among those who rose to their feet and walked forward to commit their lives to Jesus Christ. A score of other campers joined them in front of the oak stump, and they were given instruction in Bible study by some young volunteers. The shepherd-pastor then invited Chris and Manly to his trailer, where they sat outside in camp chairs and enjoyed a glass of iced tea.

   'I must say I was deeply moved by what you said tonight," confessed Chris. "Could I inquire about your accent?"

   LaBourd's face broke into a hundred wrinkles as he smiled. "I'm a Basque," he said. "All sheep-herders are Basques. The shepherds at Bethlehem were Basques. You did not know this?"

   Chris parried the question. "So you have been to

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Life City and are back here on special assignment," he said.

   "But of course. It is better to be with Christ, but until that time I stay here. And we see people coming every night to Christ."

   "Then what happens to them?"

   "Tomorrow you will learn. Now I would like to hear a special report from you, Monsieur Anders. You see, last report I got on your voyage was from Pilgrim's Manor House. I believe you spent the night there."

   "You mean, Pastor, that you've been following this crazy junket of mine?"

   "Monsieur, there have been more eyes following you than you imagine."

   Chris filled his glass with fresh tea. "Why is it that the path of a Christian is so much more difficult than an unbeliever's?" he asked.

   LaBourd smiled. "Perhaps you will now illustrate. Then we shall interpret."

   "Well," said Chris, "coming down from the Manor House I felt really good, I remember. Then when I got to Prone Valley I met this Belial. Do you know him?"

   "Every Christian is acquainted with Belial," said the shepherd. "I suppose he called you fake."

   "He certainly did."

   "Ah, yes. Unfortunately it is so. By ourselves we are all fakes and pretences. That is why we must depend utterly upon Christ to live the Christian life. Prone Valley is where we are humiliated before the Lord."

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   "So that's it. I thought it was called Prone Valley because Belial was knocking everybody on his good behaviour with that wrench of his."

   The Basque waited for him to continue.

   "Well of course, I had the all-prayer button that one of the girls had given me, and I remembered that stamp on my forehead, but what really got me past Belial, I think, was the aerial. It lit up like a Christmas tree. I figured that meant something or other, so I broke it off, and whenever Belial tried to finish me off I touched him with it."

   "What was this weapon, Monsieur?"

   "The aerial on my little car."

   "Ah. And what did it do to this Belial?"

   "It kind of stunned him and made him scratch as if something was chafing him."

   "Of course. Evil always tries to overreach, my brother; then the good Lord steps in and binds the strong man with invisible restraints."

   "But what was that aerial, Pastor? I think I know, but it never was clearly explained to me."

   "In the sixth chapter of Ephesians the Apostle tells us about the armour of the Lord. The last piece we are told to put on is the sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of God."

   "I know what the Word of God is, all right. It's a book. But—"

   "Non, Monsieur. It is more than a book. It is a weapon to be grasped and used against the evil obstacles of life."

   "Well, praise God, it worked."

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   "How did you get past this Belial?"

   "I left him squirming under his bulldozer in a ditch full of dead men's bones."

   "Let me say something to you, Monsieur Anders. If you ever voyage back over that road, he will be waiting for you, no?"

   Chris paused a moment before responding. "I'm aware of that, Pastor," he said, "because two fellows did turn back, and I know what happened to them. I may not savvy much about the Christian life, but I'm staying out of that man's way."

   "So then?"

   "So then I came to the next Principality—whose was it—Beelzebul's? I think so. And here they tried to brainwash me right through the car radio. Pumped a lot of theological language at me that sounded really smooth, but I was using some of Ernie Van Gelst's Bible verses, and whenever I spoke one it would jam their broadcast."

   "Ah, yes. This was the magnetic field, I think. But did you answer their arguments? That is important too."

   "How could I? They were talking about linguistics and taboos and myths and the superego and I don't know what-all. It was a good pitch, and at first I bought the package, though I wasn't too happy about it coming from demons."

   "Monsieur, it is no package. What they say is raisonnable, and you must answer it with raison. A verse will protect your soul for a time but will not fully satisfy your mind. There are answers—Bible

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answers—to all these things. You must find them. It is a lifelong study. This was all?"

   "No. Then the worst began. They didn't use their radio beam, they had some other way of planting twisted thoughts directly into my mind. I ended up wanting to curse and scream and kill people. Then I found that verse about 'Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for Thou art with me.' That finally brought me through."

   LaBourd nodded his lean head. "A young disciple cannot be entrusted to his own judgment when evil powers really attack. Only the Word of the Lord will save him. So?"

   "So I drove on to the airport and met my friend." Chris began to feel tired. "I guess I won't talk about him. The others can tell you the rest of the story."

   "Mr. Ness was a fine man," said LaBourd. "He stayed here once."

Do you suppose this old timer might have the answer Rusty must have been hit by a thousand whisky bottles but if he was dead why did they bother to come for the body I'm supposed to know all these things out of the Bible but I don't seem to know anything Anybody who tries to programme a curve of Christian growth on me is wasting his time. . . .

   Chris put an imploring note in his voice. "Pastor," he said, "I know I'm dumb, but was Rusty dead or wasn't he?"

   "Mon ami," said the Basque, "the corpse, it is nothing. To resuscitate it, what is that? You rub the heart; it dies again. But to pass over from death to life,

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cela, that is for all who are in Christ Jesus. Your friend left here still alive after the flesh; he arrives on the other side a new creation with a body magnifique. Yes? We do not question God's time. The vision has its own appointed hour. A Christ la gloire."

   "OK. So when we cross the river, that's the moment of truth?"

   "Oui, Monsieur."

   "Then just one more question. How could this helicopter crew go flitting back and forth taking people to glory without using retro-rockets or something like that to bring them back into human existence?"

   "Ah, that is another tale, and its secret is locked up in the stars. These men are on a detached angel service. The clue lies in the grease on their bodies."

   "Where do they get that grease?"

   "Not from this solar system. You see, it not only protects from the fiery darts of the wicked, but from the last enemy himself. Even so, it is quite an assignment to fly the river. They are brave men, those montagnards."

Chapter Fourteen  ||  Table of Contents