{Chapter 5}
Andrew knew that he had tears in his eyes. His eyes were wet and he was breathing with labored breaths. He realized they were sobs. Why do you have to be such a baby? He thought angrily at himself. This only increased his sobs.
He opened his eyes and was aware of a presence in his room. He jolted and realized that it was his mom. She must have come in while he was sobbing, and he was immediately embarrassed.
“I’m sorry, Andrew. I’m so sorry.” She repeated those words over and over. And Andrew began to cry again.
“It’s okay. It’s okay.” Andrew said quietly, while sobbing into the pillow. His stomach lurched with every sob, but it felt good to finally let out his sorrow. Finally Anne and Andrew’s sobs and tears came to a slow stop. Andrew laid back into the pillow and took deep breaths and wiped at his eyes to dry off the wetness.
When Anne had took one last calming breath she said, “Do you want Taco Bell?” Taco Bell always made Andrew feel good when he was sick and, though it wasn’t as popular in Texas as it was up north, his mom would go search out a taco bell just for him.
“Yes, please.”
“Want the usual?” The usual was a burrito supreme, with pintos and cheese and a Sprite.
Andrew nodded.
Twenty five minutes later Andrew crawled out of bed and went to sit at the kitchen table to eat his meal. As soon as he took his first bite the meal was gone. His stomach was settled and he felt almost normal. He decided to sit in front of the TV and watch his favorite Disney Channel show A.N.T Farm. He didn’t know what it was about the show. He just enjoyed it.
#
Thomas watched Andrew from across the street. It was dark outside. No one could see him. But he could see Andrew. He was so close. He could taste it. He felt like hopping out of the car and killing Andrew quickly. But no, that was defeat the fun of his game. He wanted Andrew to die slowly. And he wanted an audience.
Thomas would wait a few more days and scare the crap out of the people residing in the home, and then he would take Andrew someplace where no one would find him.
Thomas was extremely impatient. He wanted to carry out his plan and be rid of Andrew. But he couldn’t do that. He wanted to have fun too.
And impatience would be the downfall of his game. Soon, though, soon, he would set his game into full motion and there would be no room for impatience. It would be all about Andrew. Thomas smiled and watched the TV program Andrew was watching.
#
Helen Crey sat in the kitchen with her head bowed and hands clenched together. She prayed for her daughter and grandson’s life. “Dear God, please give them strength. Please hold them in your hands and keep them safe. I don’t think I could live without either of them. I pray that you will also soften Andrew’s heart so that he may realize that you love him.”
Helen prayed this over and over again thinking of nothing else that she could do. She may not be skilled in holding a gun, or wielding any sort of offensive tool. But she could use the greatest tool. God.
He had proven mighty over situations that weren’t as bad as this. So why would he stay silent now?
She must have been praying for hours, because when she stood from the barstool to get a glass of water, the house was dark. The only light that filled the void of darkness was the light from the kitchen. Helen filled up the glass with ice and then filled it with water from the tap.
She drank until there was no more water in the cup then went back to her prayers.
#
Andrew lay on the couch in the living room. He could hear Grandma Helen whispering prayers. They were so deliberate. They seemed to flow from her lips so easily. How could someone believe so strongly in something that didn’t exist? Unless God does exist. If he does, I want nothing to do with him.
What if mom is right, though? What if he this God is real and actually cares about me? No. It can’t be. If he cared about me then none of this would have happened. Andrew’s thoughts were racing and he was powerless to stop them. Every thought brought him to wanting to know more.
All Andrew wanted to do was just go to sleep. But the more he willed his mind to Shut up, it became louder and louder until the only thing he could do to actually shut it up was sit up from the couch and walk into the kitchen.
He pulled out a barstool and sat in the chair and waited until his grandma looked at him. He waited patiently, even though sitting up caused his stomach to lurch back and forth, making him queasy. He must have waited ten minutes before Grandma Helen looked up and jumped in fright.
“I thought you had gone to bed,” Grandma Helen said after realizing it was Andrew sitting at the table with her.
“Nope, I didn’t feel good enough to get up.” He quickly said, “What can you tell me about God?”
Andrew must have caught her off guard, for she simply stared for a few moments before saying anything. “Uh, well, what do you want to know?” She said this once she had gotten her bearings on the situation.
“Everything; mostly about him in general.” Andrew sat back in the chair and wrapped the cozy blanket around his shoulders. It was chilly in the house.
“There is a lot to say about Him. Do you have any specific things that you want to know? Because, that would narrow it down a ton.” Grandma Helen unclasped her fingers and sat them flat upon the granite countertop.
“Why did he do this to me?” He gestured at his face. “My mom said it has to do with God wanting to teach me a lesson. But, I don’t see how someone who is ‘loving’ would do such a thing.”
“Well, in part God is trying to teach you a lesson. He may also be trying to get your attention. And the only way that he was able to get your attention was by doing that,” Grandma Helen said softly.
“But, he is God. Why would he inflict pain on me if he loves me so much?” Andrew said bitterly. “My mom loves me and she doesn’t burn my face off when she wants my attention. She calls me.”
“God is calling to you. In here,” she pointed at Andrew’s chest. “You just aren’t willing to hear it. And the only way for him to get your attention was to do that. I mean, if it were not for Thomas, would you be sitting here, talking to me about God?”
“No, I guess not.” Andrew said.
“Then, did God get your attention?” Grandma Helen said, a soft smile forming on her face.
“I guess… I guess he did,” Andrew said coming to a silent realization. He was still irked that God would do such a thing to him. But, he did see now that God had gotten his attention.
“It may be hard to see, but God does love you. Think of Thomas as a way that God got you to think of him.” Grandma Helen said, “Do you want to know anything more about God? I won’t over implode your mind tonight if you don’t want me to.”
“Okay, people talk about some Jesus person who is supposedly God’s son. What significance does he have?” Andrew was genuinely interested. His initial annoyances at his thoughts were gone.
“I am going to tell it to you straight. Jesus is the son of God. He came to save us, humans, from our sins. He was crucified; you know what that is right?” When Andrew nodded she continued, “Well, when he was crucified and died, he took on all the sins from everyone in the world from the past, present, and future.”
“How can one man do that?” Andrew asked.
“Well, Jesus was God’s son. But he is also God in human form. God can do all things with no problem. Jesus took the sins of the world, and forgave us. He also, by dying, made it possible to enter heaven after dying. But, one must accept Jesus’ gift to the world before they can enter heaven.”
“I think this is getting a little too… weird.” Andrew said. “I think I am going to go to bed.” Andrew stood from the barstool and walked to his room. His thoughts were racing. He knew what his Grandma had said was completely true. His mind couldn’t quite grasp it. All he knew was that she was being completely honest and that, yes, there really was a God and, yes, He really did care. That did not mean Andrew would accept some sort of lunacy.
#
Thomas sat in the vehicle until he was sure that everyone in the home was asleep. The lights in the home shut off, and he waited four and a half more hours before stepping into the balmy night air and strutting across the street, knife gleaming in the moons bright rays.
He would leave one little clue on this night. Just to spike their pulses in the morning. Thomas stepped onto the porch and brought his knife to the door. He began to create thick, intricate lines. Some short, and some long. He held the knife as if it were some sort of drawing utensil. It was quite hard to master this technique. When Thomas had given up his drug addiction he had occupied his mind with more productive activities, such as carving. This was how he had mastered his craft.
When he was finished he wrote, in long flowing letters, the words, Death shall set you free. Thomas stood back and admired his beautiful work. He smiled and thought, Oh, yes, Andrew. Death will set you free. Thomas walked away from the house and pulled himself into the vehicle. He could see the image lit up by the porch light. It was such a beautiful cross. I love it!
He drove away from the neighborhood to the best hotel in the area. Why not stay in style?
Thomas had come into a few thousand dollars nearly a year ago. Actually, it was more than a few thousand dollars. It was nearly 900,000 dollars. And, he hadn’t just happened upon it. He had “cleaned up” a few investments for a friend.
With his addiction behind him, the money would last him a long time. Every once in a while Thomas could not control his cravings, so he would buy an expensive wine to keep his addictions at bay. He couldn’t afford to get high when victory was so close at hand. So, drunkenness was an obvious alternative.
Tonight, Thomas indulged himself in an expensive chardonnay and drank straight from the bottle. “No point in buying a glass when I have a perfectly good glass right here.” He said under his breath at the checkout stand of an H-E-B.
He was feeling in good spirits, so he flirted with the checkout woman who looked sort of like a pixie. She had brunette hair that curled around her cherub-like face and fell to her shoulders. He didn’t particularly like girls that looked like her, but, tonight he did. Maybe it was because his spirits were high, and he didn’t care who he tried to get. When the checkout woman, whose name was Shelly, said, “Get a life, pig.” He stormed out. Her loss, he thought.
Thomas now stood in a luxury suite at the Barton Creek Resort and Spa in just his boxers. He didn’t really care about the amenities in this hotel suite. He didn’t even care what the room looked like. All he cared about was that it was fit for a king, and that was all he needed. He began to dance around the room, because the expensive wine had hit his system and caused him to do such silly things.
His dreams were filled with good thoughts, if you can call blood lust good thoughts. Dastardly thoughts were something Thomas enjoyed very much. Thoughts like, Oh, I cannot wait to spill Andrew’s blood! And, of course, I cannot wait to smell the salty metallic scent that turns fresh air to a foul stench. He would smile in his sleep and continue his awfulness.
Thomas awoke well rested just before dawn. He wanted to see the looks on George’s face when he stepped out to grab the morning paper. It would look, he hoped, like a scrunched up, fury covered prune. Ooh, this will be good, he thought excitedly.
He dressed quickly, and by six thirty, he was driving east toward the Crey home.
#
Though Andrew had fallen asleep at nearly eleven the night before, he was awake at seven. His mind wasn’t raw from lack of sleep. He had nearly gotten fifteen hours of sleep in the past day and a half. So he wasn’t annoyed that he didn’t sleep in.
He was actually glad that he had woken up early. He noticed that he felt completely better. What the heck? He thought when he pulled himself from bed that morning. He actually felt… good!
Andrew came down with a lot of ailments nowadays. They usually lasted twelve hours or less. He hated these bouts of sickness with a passion. But, he had gotten used to them. He always forgot that he had these ailments until they struck him. This was quite annoying.
Andrew went to the bathroom, and then, without forgetting to flush to toilet, took a shower. He let the warm water wake his mind. When he was fully awake he got out of the shower and toweled off. He put on a pair boxer shorts and pulled on a pair of Levi’s. He situated them at the hip so that they would not fall off. His pants had a knack for falling to the position that most sagger’s put their pants at. Andrew absolutely detested his pants falling down.
He couldn’t ever find pants that fit him, because he was in that awkward stage where pants were either too big, or too small. They would either fall off, or squeeze the heck out of his stomach, which was most uncomfortable. Andrew preferred the jeans that would fall off to the type that caused him to walk in pain.
When Andrew was fully clothed, he walked out into the living room. What he found was a silenced group. It wasn’t the silence that happened when no one was talking. It was a deliberate silence; one that was caused by contemplation. Or fear. Andrew believed that it was caused by both factors.
He was rubbing his blond hair with a towel trying to dry it. His hair looked absolutely atrocious when it was wet. He threw the towel into the hamper in the laundry room and said, “Want me to get the newspaper?”
Grandpa George immediately said, “No. do not go outside.” His voice was strung out. His face was filled with nervous fury. Andrew immediately became interested in what was outside.
“How come?”
“Because, Thomas was here last night. I do not want you to see what he did.” Andrew was instantly angered and filled with fear. He was angry because he just wanted one day when he wouldn’t have to deal with Thomas. Filled with fear because that meant that Thomas was here, and he was going to try and kill him.
Andrew’s vision blurred and he sat on the ground hard. He said, “Will the police believe us now? We could bring them here to see what he did. By the way, what did he do, exactly?”
“If Thomas does anymore we will go to the police. They weren’t helpful yesterday and they will probably say, ‘that doesn’t necessarily mean that Thomas is in Austin.’” Grandma Helen said. She turned to Grandpa George and said, “We should show him.”
“Why should we?” Grandpa George said. “We don’t need to stress him out any more than he is.” Andrew didn’t particularly like being talked about while he was standing right there.
“I think it’s stressing him out more that he doesn’t know what Thomas did.” Anne said. “Let’s show him.”
Grandpa George sighed and stood from the chair in a fluid motion. He walked to the front door, opened it and said, “This is what he did.” Andrew was filled with anger at the sight. His fear dissipated and he was filled with utter anger at Thomas.
“He ruined your door!” Andrew’s eyes flashed. “I hate him.” After Andrew had said hit, he realized that it sounded like Andrew hated him because of the ruined door. “I mean, I hated him before. But, he ruined your door!”
“It is ruining of my property that has me angry. It is that he has the nerve to do this.” Grandpa George’s eyes held pure hatred in them. “Terrorizing you like this. He has no humanity.”
Grandpa George slammed the door. “From now on, my guns are yours to use. This house is becoming the safest place in Texas. Thomas will not touch you, you hear Andrew? You are going to be completely safe in here.”
Grandpa George went into his room and brought out a 9 mm Beretta. “Andrew, you know how to use a gun right?” Andrew had learned how to hold, shoot and take apart a gun to clean it from Grandpa George a few years ago.
“Yes. You taught me, remember?”
“I know. I wanted to make sure you remembered.” Grandpa George handed him the gun. “Show me, though.” In one swift motion, Andrew checked the chamber to see if there were any rounds. Check. He took the gun apart and put it back together with quick precision. Within twenty seconds, Andrew had checked the chamber, took the gun apart, put it back together and held it up with his finger away from the trigger, flat against the side of the machine.
“Good; very good.” Andrew could tell it was more than good. It was excellent. It had been better and faster than Grandpa George had expected and that brought a smile to Andrew’s face.
Andrew grinned and said, “For some reason holding a gun is comforting.”
“That is good. We know that you can use it.” Grandpa George said.
Andrew looked toward his mom and saw that her expression showed that she was not excited about her son using a gun. “It’s okay mom. I will only use it if Thomas is coming at me. I promise.”
“Okay.” Anne said. Her expression lightened a little bit. Andrew could tell she was thinking I hope he doesn’t have to use it. Andrew secretly wished the same thing. He didn’t want to have to shoot Thomas. The thought was slightly terrifying. But, Andrew would use the gun to defend himself if he really needed to.
“Should we eat breakfast?” Grandma Helen asked. “I think we need a break from all this doom and gloom.” Grandma Helen stood up and walked into the kitchen. “Biscuits and gravy anyone?” Grandma Helen made the best biscuits and gravy in the world. The thought of that for breakfast caused Andrew to salivate.
“Yes please!” Andrew called. Andrew was the type of person who didn’t really like breakfast. He would only eat breakfast if it was savory. Sweet stuff was not supposed to be for breakfast. That was reserved for desert. Andrew wouldn’t even eat toast with jam on it.
Anne stood and went into the kitchen to help Grandma Helen with the cooking. Andrew sat and watched NCIS. He enjoyed the show. He had seen every episode at least twice. His mom called him obsessed. He just replied, “It’s a good show.” He would then turn back and watch the show again. There wasn’t anything about the show that he enjoyed the most. He believed that he enjoyed it, because He wanted to go into law enforcement when he was older, and the show painted a pretty realistic picture of what life it like.
When the food was ready he ate the food like he was a starving pig. When his plate was completely empty for the third time he sat back and said, “Goodness I am stuffed!”
“Are you sure?” Everyone said in unison and laughed.
Andrew sat back and patted his bulging stomach. “Yes, I believe I am sure.” He grinned. “Anyone want some candy cane tea?” Andrew stood and walked to the counter and picked up the pot. It was already filled with water, so he set it back down and flipped the switch to turn it on.
“I’m good for now,” Grandma Helen said.
“Me too,” Grandpa George said.
“I will take some,” Anne said. Candy cane tea was something Andrew and Anne could never have enough of. It was something they called, yummy juice. Andrew preferred his with a little bit of sugar, whereas Anne enjoyed it plain.
A few minutes later, Andrew and Anne held steaming cups of tea. The minds of the four gathered were light. Thoughts of Thomas were there, but no one wanted to pay any mind to them. Andrew tried to shove thoughts of Thomas to the grave of his mind. But his thoughts kept coming back around to the same question. When will I die?