The Chamber of Lies Page 4

  That was what Elijah saw as he looked into their faces, as he saw deep into their souls.

  And that was what broke his heart.

  He looked around the stage. The guitarist was still strangling the guitar. The keyboard player was still ripping up the keys. And the drummer was still pounded his drums with a passion that worked the crowd into a frenzy.

  But it no longer meant anything — at least to Elijah. Now he saw the people’s real need. Their emptiness. He knew there was nothing wrong with entertaining them, but he had so much more to offer. Instead of an hour’s noise to drown out their emptiness, he would someday offer the power to fill it.

  Forever.

  In just a few years, when he was grown, he would be telling them about someone who would fill their hearts to overflowing. Someone who loved and adored them. Someone who would completely satisfy their hunger.

  Compared to that, all this strutting and screaming meant nothing.

  Now, at last, he understood.

  Shadow Man thought he was tempting Elijah with fame and glory, but the temptation was nothing compared to what Elijah knew he could be doing for people in the future if he stayed true to what God wanted. Compared to that, this concert was worthless. This fame and glory was empty. It was as if Shadow Man was trying to convince Elijah to eat rubbish instead of the incredible banquet that had been prepared for him.

  As understanding flooded Elijah’s mind, the concert began to dissolve before his eyes. The music faded. The faces disappeared.

  After a moment, he opened his eyes and found himself back inside The Chamber, all alone, staring out at Shadow Man. A very, very angry Shadow Man.

  “Ssso, you think your powersss are greater than my Chamber, do you?”

  Elijah was silent. He knew the truth, and that was all that mattered.

  Shadow Man’s fingers blurred across the control’s keyboard as he typed in another new and tempting reality. “We ssshall sssee about that, young Elijah. For thisss is what you can be if you will deny your God and follow my Massster. Behold, and be amazzzed!”

  Once again Elijah felt himself leaving the room. Once again he felt himself falling deep into his imagination.

  The imagination of The Chamber…

  The dingy motel room smelled of old carpet and stale smoke. The only good thing about it was that Zach was bigger than the cockroaches … well, most of them.

  Monica and Silas had stepped out for a bite to eat. Bruno, the big guy, lay on the bed snoring up a storm. Just a few feet away, Zach sat at a rickety table sharing a pizza with Reverend Festool. He seemed a nice enough guy. Young, in good shape, funny. And the pizza he ordered, double-cheese with everything on it, wasn’t half bad either.

  “Let me get this straight,” Festool said while chewing. “You and your folks think this little brother of yours is actually mentioned in the Bible?”

  “Yeah, from what we can tell.” Zach took a giant gulp of Coke and tried not to belch.

  Festool laughed and shook his head as he reached for another slice of pizza. “That’s too bad.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Well, the Bible. I mean, let’s face it.” He took another bite. “We’re talking about a book of fables that’s thousands of years old. Don’t tell me someone as smart as yourself buys into that stuff.”

  Zach lowered his cup. He’d been made fun of before for believing the Bible … but not by a minister. “Don’t you?” he asked.

  Festool continued chewing. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s a great book, lots of good teaching … but you don’t actually believe all that stuff about people walking on water or raising folks from the dead.”

  Zach shrugged. “Why not? I mean, some things you just gotta believe cause of faith, right?”

  Festool looked up from his pizza, a smear of grease shining on his chin. “Just like you believed in the tooth fairy?”

  “That’s completely different.”

  “How?”

  “The Bible, well, it’s the inspired word of God.”

  “Says who?”

  “The Bible.”

  Festool broke out laughing.

  Zach didn’t.

  Seeing the look on his face, Festool apologized. “I’m sorry. It’s just, well, you’re telling me the Bible is true because the Bible says it’s true.” He gave Zach a look. “Doesn’t that strike you as just a little … convenient?”

  Zach felt his face start to redden.

  Festool continued, an almost pitying look on his face. “That’s like me telling you I’m president of the United States. And when you ask me to prove it, I say the proof is because I just told you.”

  Zach fidgeted. He was liking this conversation less and less. Come to think of it, the pizza wasn’t so hot either.

  Festool leaned toward Zach. “Seriously, let me ask you: what proof do you have that the Bible is even vaguely accurate — other than the fact that it says so?”

  Zach’s mind raced, trying to come up with an answer. All his life he’d been taught to believe in the Bible. That was what his parents believed, what his Sunday School teachers taught, and what his youth pastor preached.

  But where was their proof ?

  Did they just believe because they were taught to believe? And if that’s all he had to go on, then maybe Festool was right. Maybe believing in the Bible was no different than believing in Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny … or the tooth fairy.

  Festool lowered his voice, sounding more gentle. “Don’t feel bad, Zach. There’s nothing wrong with believing in the Bible or Jesus or God. Lots of good, decent people believe — especially children.”

  He wiped his chin with his napkin and continued.

  “But as an adult, well, maybe it’s time for you to put away childish things and start thinking like a grown-up.”

  Zach opened his mouth to answer, but he had none to give.

  The Reverend pushed back his chair and stood. “Listen, I have some matters to attend to in town. But I’ll be back in a little while and we can continue our little discussion, okay?”

  Zach stared at the table, barely hearing.

  “Okay?”

  He looked up to see the Reverend smiling down upon him. It was a kind smile. Gentle and understanding.

  Ever so slightly, Zach began to nod. “Yeah. Sure.”

  Chapter Six

  Wild Ride

  “Look out!” Cody yelled, his hands clutching the armrests. “You’re going the wrong way!”

  Piper muttered angrily to herself. It wasn’t her fault that Cody made her so nervous she’d shifted the RV into reverse instead of forward. Or that she’d pushed the gas instead of the brake.

  “Stop! Left! Turn left!”

  Or that when driving backwards her left was her right and her right was her —“Look out!”

  KERRRASH!

  The good news? The RV finally came to a stop. The bad news was some poor tree had to sacrifice its life to make that possible.

  Then, of course, there was the RV’s back end. It probably wouldn’t show from the roll Dad had given the RV earlier, but as a neat freak, Piper wasn’t crazy about the giant dent she’d just put in it.

  “I’m sorry … ” She dropped her head onto the steering wheel —

  HOOOOONK!

  — then bolted back up.

  “No, no, that’s okay,” Cody said as he crawled off the floor and back to his feet. “You did just fine.”

  “You’re just saying that,” she sniffed, wiping a sleeve across her eyes.

  “No, really,” he said, testing his arm to see how many more places he’d broken it. “For your first time, I think you did great.”

  She turned to him. “Really?”

  She knew he was lying came when he tried to smile but couldn’t quite pull it off. His lips turned up at the corners, but his eyes darted back and forth like a caged turkey on Thanksgiving morning.

  “I guess …” she sniffed and reached for the gear shift. “I guess I’d better try aga
in.”

  The second sign that he was lying came when his voice got higher and cracked like a thirteen-year-old boy going through puberty.

  “Wait just a second!” he croaked. Forcing himself to calm down, he continued. “You know, until we catch our breath.”

  Piper gave him a look.

  He gave her a weak smile.

  Zach sat at the table staring at the unfinished pizza. The words the Reverend had spoken earlier still haunted him and he didn’t feel much like eating … which was a first as far as he could remember.

  There was a knock at the door, and a voice called out, “Housekeeping.”

  Bruno got up from watching a rerun of The Brady Bunch and opened the door. An aging, disheveled man stood in the hall beside a rollaway bed, “You order an extra cot?” he asked.

  Bruno looked over to Silas who was now asleep on the sofa, then to Monica who was sprawled out on the bed. “Uh, I don’t think so.”

  “How many you got in here?” the man asked.

  Bruno scratched his head. “Just the three of us. Oh, and the boy at the table that we ain’t supposed to tell nobody about.”

  The janitor nodded. “Ah, then it must be for him.” He entered the room and rolled the bed toward the table.

  Zach looked up numbly and watched. There was something strangely familiar about the man, but he couldn’t place it. Bruno hobbled back to the TV to continue watching The Brady Bunch marathon as the janitor opened the cot for Zach.

  There, lying in its center, was a cell phone.

  “What’s that?” Zack asked.

  The janitor picked it up and frowned. “Must be left over from the last guest.” He tossed it to Zach.

  “Don’t you want it?” Zach asked, “In case they come back to claim it?”

  The janitor shook his head. “Nobody will come back for that.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I know.” He held Zach’s eyes a moment, and suddenly Zach remembered. The man’s eyes were the same as the sheriff’s who had sent them on the detour.

  The janitor glanced over to Monica, Silas, and Bruno, then back to Zach. He lowered his voice. “You won’t be able to make any calls, but you may receive some interesting e-mails.”

  Zach’s mouth dropped open. He had a thousand things to ask. Unfortunately, all that came out was “But …”

  The old man headed for the door.

  “But … but …”

  He turned the knob and opened it.

  “But … but … but … ”

  He looked back and interrupted Zach’s motorboat imitation. “Everything will be okay, Son. You just keep trusting God, and everything will be all right.” He gave a wink, stepped outside and gently closed the door.

  The computer equipment was incredible. Everything was top of the line. There were even a few extras that Willard hadn’t known existed. He had no trouble tracking Monica and her thugs to a Motel 3 (they were too cheap for a Motel 6). Once he found the address he sent it to Piper and Cody.

  Apparently, the two had been having a little trouble driving the RV (Piper refused to give details), but it sounded like everything was going better now.

  Willard hoped so. He knew Piper could be the shy type and not talk a lot. He also knew she was crazy over his friend, Cody. Nothing obvious. Just little things like forgetting what she was saying when she looked at him. Becoming super clumsy. And always pushing her hair behind her ears or blowing it out of her eyes.

  Of course, Cody never noticed any of that. There he was, the best looking guy in the school. All the girls flirted with him to his face and sighed longingly behind his back — and yet he was totally clueless. Maybe that was one of the things they liked about him. He had no idea how cool he was.

  But Willard didn’t have that trouble. He knew exactly how UNcool he was. No girl ever flirted with him to his face (unless you call making up excuses for running away “flirting,”) and they definitely never sighed behind his back (unless it came with all their giggling and eye-rolling).

  Why someone like Cody would ever hang out with someone like him was beyond reason. But they’d been friends ever since they were little kids. And that was another cool thing about Cody. He never forgot his friends.

  Back at the cabin, Willard had barely finished sending out the information over the computer before the hermit opened the door and stepped inside.

  “Where have you been?” Willard asked.

  “Had a couple of loose ends to tie up. How’s it goin’ with you?”

  “I just sent the address to Piper and Cody. They should — ”

  One of the computer screens flickered, and Willard turned to look at it. “What’s going on?”

  The old man hobbled to his side. “What?”

  Willard stared at the screen. It was filled with all sorts of writing. It seemed to be mostly historical and archaeological stuff. “How’d that get on there?” he asked.

  The hermit leaned toward the screen. “Hmm … What’s that say at the bottom?”

  Willard read the final sentence:

  “Please send by pressing enter. ”

  The old man reached past Willard and hit the key.

  “What are you doing?” Willard asked.

  The old guy shrugged. “It said to press enter, so I figured we should press enter. ”

  “But you don’t even know who it’s from — or where it’s going.”

  Again the hermit shrugged. “If there’s one thing I learned about these newfangled computers, it’s that when they want somethin’, it’s usually best not to argue with ’em.”

  Willard looked at the screen then let out a weary sigh. The old timer obviously didn’t know what he was doing. Then again, most of the time, neither did Willard.

  It was getting late. Maybe the Reverend wouldn’t be coming back after all. At least that’s what Zach hoped. Their last discussion really got him to thinking. And to doubting. Maybe the guy was right. Maybe you really couldn’t trust the Bible was accurate. Just because he learned it in Sunday school didn’t necessarily make it true. Or did it?

  A few moments later he felt the cell phone vibrate in his pocket. He reached for it, glancing around the motel room to make sure everyone was watching The Brady Brides Reunion (Bruno sure liked his Brady Bunch ). When he was sure the coast was clear, he pulled out the phone and read the subject on the screen:

  “Some Arguments Proving the Accuracy of the Bible”

  He scrolled down and read:

  FACT

  Jesus Christ believed the Scriptures and often quoted from them.

  FACT

  Archaeologists have used the Bible to discover over 200 ancient locations. Every few years another discovery is made that proves the absolute historical accuracy of Scripture.

  Zach caught his breath. It was like the screen was answering the very questions Reverend Festool had raised. He scrolled down to read more:

  FACT

  Other historians who lived around the time of Christ also wrote about Jesus, supporting what was recorded in the Bible. In fact, there are so many historical writings about Christ outside of the Bible that it is possible to construct His entire life without ever going to the Bible.

  Zach’s heart pounded. There was more:

  FACT

  Here is an example from the famous Jewish historian named Josephus who lived back in the First Century. None of his writings are in the Bible.

  “Now there was about this time Jesus, a wise man, if it be lawful to call him a man, for he was a doer of wonderful works, a teacher of such men as receive the truth with pleasure. He drew over to himself both many of the Jews and many of the Gentiles. He was the Christ and when Pilate, at the suggestion of the principal men among us, had condemned him to the cross, those that loved him at the first did not forsake him; for he appeared to them alive again on the third day; as the divine prophets had foretold these and ten thousand other wonderful things concerning him. And the tribe of Christians so named from him are not extinct
at this day.”

  Zach couldn’t believe his eyes. He especially liked the part about being called a “tribe of Christians.” But he had no sooner finished reading before there was a knock on the door.

  Monica rose from the sofa, crossed to the door and gave her usual screeching, “Who is it?”

  “Reverend Festool,” came the reply.

  She unlocked the door and opened it. Then, in her ever-pleasant manner, she turned without a word and headed back to watch TV.

  The Reverend entered and nodded to Zach. “So, have you given any more thought to what we were discussing earlier?”

  “Yeah,” Zach coughed slightly as he slipped the cell phone into his pocket. “I sure have.”

  “Good,” the Reverend pulled up a chair. “So tell me, as a bright and intelligent young man, what conclusions have you come to?” He gave his usual smile.

  Zach pulled up his own chair. He took a deep breath and began, somehow figuring Reverend Festool wouldn’t be smiling quite as big when he heard the information.

  Chapter Seven

  To the Rescue Again — Sorta

  Elijah felt the football snap into his little hands. Only they weren’t so little anymore. Now they were a man’s hands. A BIG man’s hands.

  He dropped back from the line of players, his muscular legs powerful and poised for action.

  He was no longer wimpy little Elijah, the pip-squeak that everybody made fun of. Thanks to The Chamber he now towered six feet five inches high and had the body of a superstar athlete.

  He glanced to the turf below and saw the Superbowl logo. He was the star quarterback playing the Superbowl!

  The stadium was packed with cheering fans. But it wasn’t the fans that thrilled him. He’d overcome wanting to be loved by the masses back at the concert. Instead, it was the power of his new, magnificent body.