Tribulation House: Reloaded

Chapter 50

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When the wife got home from the mall, I waved off her questions about the wrecked boat in the yard and matching hole in the Mendels’ garage door. “It’s too complicated to get into now.”

“But—what happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it!” I cleared my throat. Tried again. “Honey, I have a splitting headache right now. I have to figure out what to do about this.”

“Are you okay?”

I remembered it was the first time I’d seen her since the previous morning. I nodded, tried to play it cool. “Sure, sure. I…” There were no more words coming, so I let the sentence drop.

We exchanged weary looks, but had no words to describe the past twenty-four hours. Or the fact that we were still here on earth. She hugged me, and I let her.

She cried a little, and I patted her on the back. She sniffled, pulling a tissue from her purse. “Where’s your truck?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Your truck. What happened to your truck? It isn’t there inside the neighbor’s garage, is it?”

“No.” I forced a chuckle. “The boy needed it to drive to school.”

“Oh.” She wiped her nose again, and put her purse on the table by the front door. “That was nice of you.”

“I’m a nice guy.”

She went into the kitchen to try to figure out lunch. As soon as she left the room, I grabbed the keys to her car and ducked out.

Spent the afternoon just driving. Drove for hours. Drove to the office. Did not have the nerve to go in. Drove to the boat dealer. Did not even know how to begin to make a deal on returning a boat with a garage-shaped hole in the hull. Drove by the school. Did not see my Avalanche anywhere.

I was at the end of my rope. My life was falling apart. I had lost my career. I didn’t know where my truck and my son were. And I would no doubt be getting a visit from the mobsters in just a matter of weeks. When was my loan even due? I had barely listened to the terms when I got the money. I didn’t think there would be any point.

I only had one person to blame.

I found Reverend Daniel Glory in his office at the church. His desk was littered with charts and graphs and scribbled formulas. “You’ve got to help me!”

Reverend Glory looked up from his papers. He was still his everyday smug self. As clean-cut as ever, his hair helmet in place, his strong jawline bejeweled with that toothy grin. “I’m working on it right now.” He pointed to the scribbled formulas. The trash can was filled with crumpled previous drafts. “I think I have discovered where I misplaced the—”

I lunged across the office, fell to my knees by his desk chair. “You don’t understand! I’m in debt up to my eyeballs!”

“I’m sure if you talk to the bank, they’ll understand your—”

I grabbed him by the shoulders. “Not the bank! I borrowed the money from somebody else!” I shook him. “These are bad men! These are the people who break your legs!”

Reverend Glory gave me a look. How dare he give me a look at a time like this? “You did what?”

I stood up. I walked to the other side of the office. I tried to recover. Tried to reclaim myself. Tried to get my story back on track. “I entered into a business arrangement. Given the circumstances, it made sense.”

“Let me see whether I understand this.” The Reverend pushed back his chair. “You entered into some sort of exchange with—criminals?”

“It was a carefully thought-out decision.”

“With gangsters?”

“We weren’t supposed to be here.”

“What do you mean?”

“What do I mean?” I lunged again for the desk, started pounding on the various charts and graphs. “The Rapture was coming! We just needed to fasten our seat belts and be ready to fly!”

He gave me a smile. “Look, son, I’ll keep you in my prayers.”

“What good is that? You have to do something! What good is prayer if you’re not going to help me?”

“I know, but—”

“This is your fault!”

“Now wait a second—”

I’m not sure what came over me. I suddenly had his lapels in my hands, but they were like someone else’s hands. “You were the big man, with your charts and your graphs!” I was yelling, but it was like the voice was coming from someone else. “We trusted you!”

Reverend Glory yelled something and grabbed my wrists. His grip was strong—stronger than you would think—but I pushed back and kicked as hard as I could.

He cursed and threw a fist, which grazed me. I grabbed something off his desk and swung. He was on the floor before I even realized it was some kind of trophy.

He lay on the floor. Blood spattered on the side of his head where I hit him. He wasn’t moving. Didn’t seem to be breathing.

Oh God.

Oh God oh God oh God.

I was still praying when I heard a ringing noise. It took me a moment to recognize it as someone’s phone. Another moment to recognize it as my phone.

I looked at the ID on the screen. The wife. “What?”

“Where are you?”

I swallowed. Tried to sound calm. “I’m sorry I borrowed your car, but—”

“Clint is at the hospital!”

“What?”

“There was some sort of wreck and he was—”

“What happened to the truck?”

“I don’t know.” Her voice cracked. “Clint is in intensive care. Can you come take me to the hospital?”

“I am in the middle of a—”

“Are you coming to the hospital to see your son?”

I looked down at the body on the floor. “There is something I have to take care of first.”

She hung up on me.

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There are 70 chapters for Tribulation House. You can purchase the whole eBook from Amazon, Apple, Kobo, B&N, and more! 

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