"Altar'ed Images"

Sta“Altar’ed Images: a short story by Michael James

From across the street at a large gothic church, congregants make their way inside. The black hearse and stretch limos in the front indicate a funeral. As the people make their way inside we hear the Pastor…

“Good day, brethren. I don’t suppose there could be a tougher way for a new Pastor to meet a new congregation than at the funeral of the Pastor who’s led this church for 30 years.

Inside the spacious sanctuary, the young Pastor looks nervous. A few congregants in the front row look at him with a hint of disdain. Some church members are sobbing, consoling each other.

“My name is Pastor Doug Henry and I graduated Seminary school 2 years ago. I’ve been the Interim Pastor at a neighboring church down the street. I feel honored the late Pastor Bailey’s adopted family has asked me to officiate at his service. While I never knew him other than the occasional supportive phone calls when I first came to Mount Vernon, I can imagine what he meant to you all. I know he meant a lot to me as well.

A small child cries out. Everyone turns to look at back at young Jake Wise, a rambunctious 3 year old trying to squirm out of his dad’s arms. His father, Johner barely gets him back in his seat. Embarrassed he manages a slight grin. Johner turns around to scold little Jake and we see the nametag on his shirt. “DEACON JOHNER WISE.”

The congregants turn around as the Pastor walks from behind the dais, steps down to the open casket with the old Pastor, arms folded and a rosary with cross wrapped around his hand. Pastor Henry looks down on him,

“Death comes to all of us. The Book says all men are appointed to die once. Death is sadly inevitable.” He looks up to the congregation, who hang on his every word,,, he points from left to right, at the group of silent parishioners, “Everyone hear has a born date and a death date. None of us know the final date of our existence. From the elders,” points to a frail old couple a few rows back, “to the sweet young child over there.”

He points to Jake who somehow sits still when he senses everyone is looking at him. Johner pulls him in for a hug, not bearing to know the truth of it. He leans down and kisses Jakes, who promptly wipes it from his face,

“Ewww, Daddy, not in church.” The congregants laugh at the child’s simplicity and lack of understanding the circumstance that brought them all together.

“Since I didn’t know this pious man as well as you all did, I think it is only fitting that those who wish to should come up and recall some memories of what Pastor Bailey meant to you.” No one makes a move, some look down at their feet; others look around to see who will be the first to go up. Public speaking is a fear worse than death it’s been said. They are glued to their seats. Suddenly Jake cries out again, snapping everyone out of the trance they seemed to be in. One by one, the brave make their way up the center aisle and approach the casket.

Pastor Henry makes the sign of the cross and steps away as the first person, Verna James, steps up to the microphone.

“I wasn’t a fan of Pastor Bailey in the beginning. I liked my old Pastor, Pastor Rose, she spoke to my heart, and I understood things when she spoke. But over time Pastor Bailey really got under my skin, you could feel that he really cared about you. His sermons never felt like he was speaking to a crowd, it felt…personal… like he was speaking directly to me. I became a fan, a student of the Word because of him. As a Ruling Elder of First Presbyterian and privy to the lives of the leaders here I know Pastor Bailey had no family and left no inheritance, other than the love he left us with and the lessons he taught us.” Tears run down her cheek, the man behind her rubs her back, a consoling gesture.

The crowd burst into applause as Verna steps away and hands the mike to the next person in line. The scene repeats itself until there is no one left to speak. Johner sits silent in his seat, Jake curled under his arm, head on his daddy’s chest and fast asleep. The casket is wheeled out by the funeral home attendants; Pastor Henry follows behind, clutching a small black book like a lifeline. Johner looks up at him, they make eye contact and lock gazes as the pastor walks by, Johner can’t break away and it seems neither can the Pastor.

“Daddy, is it over? Can we go home now?” Jake is still half asleep and reaching for a hug. His tiny voice breaks the spell; the Pastor walks out into the bright light of the outside world. Bright light silhouettes the open doors, Pastor Henry disappears into the light.

“Sigh, yeah little buddy, we can go. I just want to go to the Altar for a minute. You ok with that?”

“Yup, I can count to ten. Is that a minute?” Johner, laughing, hoists Jake up, walks to the altar. A 3 foot statuette of the Archangel Michael about to run through satan with a golden sword stands on a 4 foot pedestal off to the side. Jakes seems fascinated by the angel, the wings look so real to him he reaches out to touch it, but Johner put him on the ground instead. He steps away to light a candle. When he turns around he sees the statue falling in Jake’s direction…

“JAAAAAKE!!!” A sudden burst of adrenaline and he dives for the kid, tucks and rolls as the statue crashes to the ground. It doesn’t shatter but one of the wings breaks off. He checks Jake for injuries. “Oh man, are you ok, little buddy”

“I’m okay, Daddy. But the bird man broke his wing.” They rise to their feet and approach the broken relic. Johner mumbles something under his breath, Jake chimes in.

“Daddy, are we in trouble?” Fear growing on his face, he grabs his father around his leg. Johner rubs his head, kneels to his height.

“No Jake, we are not in trouble. It was an accident. We didn’t mean to break it, right.” Little Jake tries to process how they couldn’t be in trouble for the damaged statue. Something catches Johner’s attention; he reaches past Jake into a molding hole at the base of the statue. He wonders to himself, ‘Now why would someone leave a Bible in there?’ He pulls out the black book, it looks almost like a bible but in truth it is a notebook with a binder and a strap. He looks up, looks around, he sees the empty sanctuary. He looks up at the stained glass windows, the light from an angel seems to shine right down on him. Jake looks at him puzzled, he looks back at the “glass angel” of light staring down at him with piercing eyes and an almost knowing grin. Jake looks at the ornate patterns on the cover of the book, he sees yellow and light blue colors. Johner rises to his feet, looks down at the gold trim ornate designs. Jake reaches to grab the book.

“Daddy, I know colors, those are yellow and blue and purple.” Johner is transfixed on the gold patterns, he barely hears his son telling the colors he sees are not what his father is seeing. Johner is fixated on the binder’s strap. His eyes are glazed over; he is lusting with curiosity for what could be inside. As he pulls the strap of the black book open a key falls to the ground, in seeming slow motion…the tiny clink of the key on the ground sounds like thunder inside Johner’s head. He opens the book to see it belonged to “Reverend David Bailey, Pastor First Presbyterian, Mount Vernon, NY.” The hand written note has a date of 10-23-1986.

Jake incessantly tugs on his father’s pant leg goes unnoticed. Johner turns the page expecting to see English writing, instead he sees a cypher. He turns more pages, only sees more cyphers. ‘What the hell is this? Why would he have written something like this?’ he questions in his mind. He flips through the pages like a deck of cards, nothing but cyphers. He flips to the last page. ‘AHA! English, finally.’ Johner reads the text out loud.

“I David Bailey of sound mind and body bequeath my life saving of twenty thousand dollars to the finder of this book. As you no doubt see there is a code key that must be translated to find out where the safety box containing twenty thousand dollars in cash is located.” David looks around, no one is in sight. Sunlight shimmers on his face; he looks around at the stained glass window above him. The same angel is looking down on him, the grin from before has diminished. He takes on final look around, the coast is clear. He bends down, snatches the key and pockets it. He is startled when one of the heavy front doors slams shut.

“HEY! Mr. Wise, the procession is leaving. Aren’t you coming?” Pastor Henry shouts, his booming voice echoing through the empty sanctuary.

“No, Jake is getting fussy, I am going home of feed him,” Johner says as he hides the book behind Jake.

“Ok, we will see you at the next deacon’s meeting then” The Pastor backs out and closes the final door upon Johner’s thumbs up signal. The darkness of the closed doors and blocked off sunlight is a stark contrast to the blinding light with the doors open. He looks down at the gold ornate designs on the book’s cover when a flash of light from the glass window depicting angel bounces off his face. He looks up at it; there is no more smile on the face. As he walks towards to door with Jake, he looks back at it again; the eyes seem to be watching him. He looks down at his feet as he hustles away with Jake barely keeping up.

3 days later

In Jake’s bedroom, Johner is reading Jake a bedtime story. A voice from another room calls out. “Yo, dude! Finish up already, what are you, writing the book?” We can hear other people laughing.

Johner looks down at Jake who flashes a huge grin and hugs him tightly. “I love you Daddy.” Johner kisses him, hurries out the door. “Daddy, you forgot the tuck me in.”

Johner stops, for a second the old him comes out. “Yes, you’re right, Champ.” He tucks Jake under the covers, gives him a kiss goodnight. He turns the light out on the scene and closes the door.

At the dining table are Verna James, John O’mara, and Pastor Betty a retired, teaching Pastor from the area. They are all snacking on chips and drinks. Johner pulls up a chair, drops the book on the table. Verna reaches out to grab the book for a better look.

“Wow, have you seen such ornate designs. The colors really pop from the black background. She sees the designs in purple and yellow with a hint of blue. She passes it to John who is also fascinated. John sees bright red and orange colors. He nods his head, passes the book to Pastor Betty. She looks at it, doesn’t seem impressed.

“Well, what do you think Pastor Betty… Amazing isn’t it?” asks Johner. He isn’t aware of her lack of enthusiasm, how could he be. He is grinning from ear to ear; she sees a plain black book with simple white patterns on it. Johner quickly snatches the book from her, unaware that he actually ripped it from her hands. Pastor Betty looks at him surprised. The others are aware of Johner’s gruff response.

“So are we going to sell it on Ebay.. or sit here and get drunk?” O’Mara chimes in. The others look at him incredulously. “Guys…RELAX. I’m joking, you know I don’t drink.”

Johner is rocking in the chair, bursting with anticipation. He opens the book. “This is the late Pastor Henry’s book. It’s a cypher to find his estate hidden in the pages. I asked you guys here because between a former Navy cryptographer,” he points O’Mara, “an ancient language specialist and a confidant who surely know how he thinks.” He points to Pastor Betty and Verna respectively. “I think he really wants us to find it…as a team.”

“Hahaha, that’s the Pastor Henry I will always love. Always joking and making us smile.” Verna reaches for the book, opens the pages. She reacts to seeing the cyphers that make no sense. O’Mara reaches for it, Verna hands it to him. He looks the first page over, then the next and a few more. He starts writing on the pad in front of him, flips the pages, writes faster and more furious. The others are on the edge of their seats when he stops writing and looks up.

Johner voices what the others are thinking, “Well? Do you have something?” Omara looks at Johner, a piercing gaze, until Johner looks away.

“Well, it’s been years since I was in the Navy but if I’m right, this thing is talking about some sort of key.”

“A key as in another cypher?” asks Verna. O’Mara shrugs his shoulder, shakes his head, he doesn’t know.

“Honestly, I don’t know. A key is something that unlocks something else. Could be a cypher, it could be an actual key?” They all look to Johner and are wondering the same thing.

“That’s all I found when the statue broke, just this book. I opened it and saw the crazy symbols. Only Pastor Henry’s letter on the last page said we have to find where he left the money.”

“MONEY?” they all shout in unison.

“Verna, you said he lived like a monk,” asks Pastor Betty. “Where would he get money to leave behind for the church?”

“Who said he left it for the church?” asks Johner. The others eyeball him curiously. Verna grabs the book, flips to the back page.

“TWENTY THOUSAND DOLLARS!” Verna explodes. “Why didn’t you tell us he left that kind of money, Johner?” She slides the book back to O’Mara. “Figure this thing out, dude. That’s a lot of money.” O’Mara takes the book, gives each person at the table a sly look. He dives back into the book, flipping pages and jotting notes. Verna eyeballs O’Mara, Pastor Betty then Johner.

“Why did you say he didn’t leave it for the church, Johner?” Pastor Betty queries.

“No reason at all. Why does any sane person leave a gift of twenty grand under a statue… then leaves a rubix cube puzzle to find it? If he wanted to leave it for the church why didn’t he just write a check like normal people do?” The others clam down, their suspicions of him dissipate.

“A key…a key…” Pastor Betty ponders for a moment, looks at Johner again. “Are you sure the book was the only thing you found?”

Indignant, Johner slams the table, “OF COURSE I’M SURE! I didn’t even have to tell you guys about this.” The women spooked at Johner’s outburst. O’Mara is not afraid.

“No, you had to ‘cos you would never figure this out on your own,” O’Mara responds. He lets out a huge sigh. “Besides some of this stuff isn’t cypher, I think it’s Ancient Aramaic. Your turn Pastor Betty.” He slides the book over to her. “I kept getting the number 7 popping up a lot. Does that mean anything to any of you?” Verna and Johner nod “no.” Pastor Betty is holding something back.

“C’mon Pastor Betty, we are all in this together. If you know something lets us in on it,” Johner asks her.

“666 is the devils number, 777 is the Most High’s number. But I don’t see how that is related to any of this.” She looks away, but she is definitely keeping something to herself. She eyeballs Johner, this time he can’t hold her gaze and he look to O’Mara. Pastor Betty starts writing on the pad what she is translating to English. When she puts the pads down, the others are excited to hear what was written.

“It doesn’t make any sense ‘cos they aren’t related.” The others look at her curiously. “It says ‘find a pyramid near the high rock.’ Like I said, it makes no sense.”

From the other rom, we hear little Jake, “Daddy, I can’t sleep. I’m hungry.” The mood comes back down and the friends laugh at how serious they were getting. O’Mara is the first to bust out laughing.

“From the mouths of babes.” says Verna. “Let’s go guys, tomorrow is another day.” Jake quickly bids them goodbye, runs off to tend to Jake. The trio let themselves out.

2 A.M. that same night

Jake is sitting at his laptop, papers strewn all about. He is typing furiously on the keypad, like vengeance against it is his priority. He goes through page after page of companies and locations but nothing jives. Frustrated he grabs the book, shakes it as if it had hurt him. The gold trim gets brighter and literally glows to him. He tosses the black book across the room to a couch where it lands among letters and bills scattered on the seat. He ponders to himself, “Pyramids, pyramids… man, that old geezer was crazy.” He looks over at the book, taunting him, mocking him in its silence as he can see the golden glow from across the room.

He marches to the couch, face beet red with anger. As he reaches to grab the book he sees a bill from his bank, HSBC. He picks it up and stares at it curiously. “Pyramid? PYRAMID! Of course, I know where he left it.” He looks at the envelope and clearly sees the bank’s logo is a pyramid with left and right sides folded open. It leaps off the page at him. He runs back to the laptop and types in “HSBC, near rock.”

Immediately the screen shows a HSBC bank two towns away located at the intersection of High Street and Boulder Avenue in Bronxville, a wealthy area he’s driven through and marveled at the high end cars and ancient mansions. He pulls out the key, looks back at the stack of bills, a huge sigh of relief.

9 A.M. the bank in Bronxville

The manager can barely get the door open when Johner bursts in. Before the manager can properly greet him, he bolts past him towards the back of the bank.

“SIR! Can I help you?” He has to run to catch up with Johner. “Sir, how may I help you?” Johner pulls out the book.

“Hi I’m am Elder at a local church and our deceased Pastor left the congregation a gift. But he didn’t leave any specific safe deposit box number. I think there is a seven in it. Can you help me find which box it is?” The manager smiles, he leads Johner to the recesses of the bank near the vault. As Johner and the manager disappear into the recess of the vault,

Pastor Betty makes her way into the bank. A desk officer calls her and she enters the glass cubicle. They shake hands. “Another deposit today, Pastor? Your church seems to be doing well.” Pastor Betty nods a humble smile. She pulls an envelope stuffed with cash and checks out of her large handbag, hands it to the bank officer.

Meanwhile in the safe deposit room, Johner is checking every box that has a seven on it. The manager can’t even keep up with him. He is like an addict needing a fix. He slips the key into box “777” and the key turns. He eyes bug out as he looks back at the manager who by now is getting suspicious. He tones the excitement down several notches. The manager inserts his key and the box opens. The manager steps back to watch but Johner’s glare send him packing.

“I’ll be outside if you need assistance, Sir.” Johner’s eyes are wide open and he slides the box out. He slowly peeks under the lid…then flings it open to see twenty thousand dollars in hundred dollar bills neatly tied with rubber bands. He pumps his fists, then as he reaches into the box a burr in the metal scratches him. He yanks his hand out and sucks the blood from the cut. “I’ can buy a lot of Band-Aids with this. Hahaha.” He stuffs the cash into a conveniently placed leather pouch under the cash. When he looks at the book he doesn’t even notice the gold isn’t gold anymore but shiny black. He stuffs the book in the pouch also.

9:30 A.M. the bank offices

As Johner is walking past the last cubicle a voice startles him,

“Johner? Johner Wise?” The blood drains from his face when he turns to see Pastor Betty get up and walk towards him. He is flustered but quickly calms himself before she reaches him.

“Pastor Betty, you bank here too?” She looks down at the bag in his hand. “Oh yeah, it’s candy for Jake, he loves his fruit roll ups.” She hugs him then goes back to her seat. Johner can’t believe his luck. His eyes dart about maniacally. In his mind he thinks ‘She didn’t ask about the black book, thank God. Sheesh, nosy bitch!’ As he looks back Pastor Betty and the bank officer are standing looking at him in shock. ‘Oh no, did I speak that out loud? Keep it together dude, just get home.’ He sucks at the cut that doesn’t seem to want to stop bleeding.

7:45P.M. Johner’s apartment

“Daddy, what’s wrong with your hand?” Little Jake is trying to rub his father’s very swollen hand. An urgent knock at the door startles him. He get off the couch, wobbly, makes his way to the door.

“Who is it?” he snaps. He has to lean on the door for support.

“Johner, it’s us,’’ says Verna from the other side of the door. “You don’t sound so good.”

“Yea, dude, you sound like hell kicked your butt then spat you back out,” jokes O’Mara. “Open the door, man.” Johner barely opens the door but is falling down backwards with it. O’mara reacts lightening quick and grabs him as he blacks out. Verna, still wearing her RN scrubs immediately jumps into action.

“Lay him on his back, open his shirt. He’s burning up with fever.” Little Jake tries to butt his way in. “Jake, do Miss Verna a favor and go sit on the couch okay. We are taking care of Daddy. He’s going to be fine.

“Okay, Miss Verna. I can count to ten.” He holds up all of his fingers, smiles then runs for the couch.

Verna is performing CPR as Johner calls 911. She unwinds the bandage covering his hand, the small cut has grown 4 times the size and is oozing pus. “This is not good, this is NOT GOOD! Tell them I am an RN but I’m going to lose him if they are not here in five minutes with an Epipen and Norepinephrine. Forget who they are contracted to, tell them to get the closest unit her YESTERDAY!”

8 P.M.

The ambulance with Johner Wise streaks through downtown Mount Vernon towards the closest trauma center at Lawrence Hospital. It screeches to a halt in front the Emergency Room entrance where a team of doctors are waiting. The scene is utter pandemonium as they rush him inside.

Little Jake hold onto Verna’s hand. “Where are they taking Daddy? Is he going to be okay?” Verna picks him up on her hip and plants a tender kiss on his forehead.

“Daddy is going to be okay, Jake. But you have to stay with Miss Verna for a few days, if that’s alright with you. Little Jake raises his hand for a high five; she gives him a high five and he hugs her..

Three days later. 11:11 A.M.

Pastor Betty and Verna are sitting in chairs when Johner groans, slowly comes back to life. They rush to his side.

“Oh man, did anyone get the license plate of the truck that hit me?” Verna laughs out loud.

“We have been on a vigil for you. You nearly checked out, you know,” Pastor Betty tells him. The seriousness of his situation hits Johner like a brick.

“Where’s Jake?”

“He with my family, he’s having a ball with kids his own age,” Verna tells him. How are you feeling?”

“I’m not sure, I can’t feel my hand, but everything else feels ok, I guess.” Verna rubs his foot, backs away.

“My shift starts now, I’ll be checking on you through the day.” She exits the room. There is an awkward silence. Pastor Better backs away, Jakes look embarrassed.

“Look, if I said something weird in the bank the other day, I didn’t mean anything by it. I’ve been under a lot of pressure. I’m sorry, Pastor Betty.” She looks at him curious.

“You didn’t say anything in the bank, you were bleeding all over the floor, didn’t you notice that?” She looks at him with pity. He is greatly relieved.

He manages a smirk, ‘So she doesn’t know’ he thinks to himself. He settles back into sleep.

The next day 12:12 P.M.

Jake is wheeled out the hospital main entrance. O’Mara, Verna James, Pastor Betty, Little Jake is jumping all over him. He gets out of the wheelchair and he and Jake climb into the van to go home. The others wave good bye to him.

“Hey, when you feel up to it, let’s try to finish deciphering the black book, okay,” shouts O’Mara as the van pulls off around the circular exit road.

“You got it, man. I’ll be looking forward to it.”

8:08 P.M.

Johner walks out of Jakes room, he settles down to count the money again. He pulls it from his hiding place under the couch pillow, goes to the dining room table and spreads it out. He pulls out the book, “Thank you Pastor Bailey, your secret is safe with me.” He draws the book closer to him and for the first time notices the gold inlay is now a shiny black instead. When light catches it its noticeable from matte black of the book cover. He scratches his head, puzzled.

“What in the hell is this?” He slides’ the book away as if upset with it.

He reaches across the table for the packet from the hospital. He dumps the contents onto the table. After looking through a few of the papers he bolts from the chair, looking at the sheet of paper again to check something. Johner drops to his knees, sobbing.

“NOOOOO…this CAN’T BE! Why, why, WHY me?” He slowly bangs his head on the table and tosses the bill away but a sudden breeze catches it and it flies right back to him and lands near his knee. His bill for the hospital stay reads. “$19, 999.77”