The Insane Journey

Chapter 54

 Phineas awoke in the middle of the night, confused. In the distance, he could hear the dull roar of voices and the beat of popular music played by a live band. Probably another festival, he thought.

 But he was in a jail cell. It always took him a moment to get used to that, to remember why he woke up in a jail cell – though sometimes, he was pretty sure, he woke up in Heaven. When he tried to remember those specific occasions, his memory failed and his head began to hurt. All this was certainly not how he had expected things to work out after he expedited Maxwell to Hell. No one besides Jesus showed any appreciation for his noble deed.

 Well, attempted noble deed. Yesterday, he was unsettled to learn from his lawyer that Maxwell had survived the gunshot wound. Worse, the lawyer seemed to think this was good news. “As a result, your charge will be attempted murder,” she had explained.

 What would a woman know about noble deeds, thought Phineas.

 He was miserable, alone and had not even entirely succeeded in his holy task, though he was sure Maxwell must now be reflecting back on his life of sin and be preparing to improve himself in the eyes of God.

 “Why does no one appreciate what I did?” shouted Phineas in frustration.

 “God appreciates it, Phineas. And I do, too. Well, sort of. You could have aimed better,” said Jesus.

 “I’m sorry, Jesus,” said Phineas. “I tried. I really tried.”

 “Don’t you worry about it, Phinny, my son. You’ll get another chance.”

 “I will?”

 “Of course you will! God and I are setting it all up for you.”

 “You are?”

 “That’s right, Phinny.”

 Phineas wondered when and why Jesus started calling him “Phinny”. He was a victim of that nickname in school; he had never liked it and had been glad to be rid of it as an adult.

 “But Phinny, you have got to stop whining so much about your situation.”

 “I am not whining, am I?”

 “You are, Phinny. And martyrs are not whiners.”

 “No, of course they aren’t. I’m sorry.”

 “And stop apologising! Did you see me whining when the Romans nailed me to a cross?”

 “No, no, Jesus. Of course I didn’t. I’m so...”

 “Don’t you fucking say sorry to me again after I told you to stop!” shrieked Jesus in a voice so loud Phineas was sure it would draw complaints.

 “I am beginning to wonder if my Father and I made a mistake in entrusting you to do this, the holiest of holy tasks in the 21st century.”

 “No, of course not. You can trust me. I’ll be better now. But maybe you could...” Phineas looked around. Jesus had disappeared. Then he heard footsteps on the corridor outside. He wondered why Jesus always disappeared when one of the guards came. He also wondered if he would be in trouble for all the noise – even if it was Jesus who was making the noise. Well, if he was, never mind. He was going to be a good martyr. A damned good martyr. Let the guards beat him. He’d show Jesus and God what a good martyr he could be.

 In fact, it was not one guard, but two of them who opened the door and announced in near unison, “come along, Forge.”

 “Where are we going?” asked Phineas.

 “To see a volcano,” said the guard.