The Second Coming by John Dalmas

“Because it feels so good. And because with people who love one another, it’s almost the human ultimate in closeness. That’s what makes it healing.”

“Healing. I seem to need that at times.”

He chuckled. “Happy to oblige, ma’am. Just call me Dr. Ben. My motto is, ‘I make house calls.’ ”

She elbowed him softly. “Husbands!” she murmured, then turned onto her sleeping side and closed her eyes.

17

Rev. S: Mr. Aran, perhaps you are aware of Jesus’s words in Matthew, Chapter 16, verses 24 and 25: “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it.” And in Luke, Chapter 12, verse 25: “Can any of you by worrying add a single day to your span of life?”

Yet you have security specialists with you all the time. How do you justify that?

NA: Hour.

Rev. S:Sir?

NA: The word is “hour.” You misquoted Luke. He wrote: “add a single hour to your span of life.”

But to answer your question: First, in the immortal words of Mad Magazine’s Alfred E. Newman, “What? Me worry?” I do not worry. I trust. And secondly— Let me tell you a story not from the Bible, but one I read years ago in a magazine. It went something like this: A river was in flood, and with the water above the first-floor windows, a man sat watching from his roof. A skiff came along, and the paddler invited him to get in.

“No,” the man answered, “God will save me if it’s necessary.”

The water had covered the porch roof when a power boat came along. The people on board urged him to join them, but he refused, giving the same reason. Still later, with water to the upstairs windows, a helicopter came along, and he waved it off.

Shortly afterward, the house was washed off its foundation, and he drowned. Received in heaven, he went to God and complained. “The Bible says you’d take care of me, yet you let me drown!”

“Dear Soul,” God answered with ineffable love, “I tried to save you. First I sent a skiff, then a power boat, and finally a helicopter. You refused them all.”

Now my answer to you, good Reverend, is that Art Knowles came to me as a security expert, and offered his services. I accepted with gratitude.

From: Ecumenical Encounters,

Ngunda Elija Aran as guest.

Lor Lu’s intercom buzzed, and he pressed a key. “What is it, Carla?”

“Mr. Knowles would like to speak with you.”

“Send him in.”

The square-built security chief entered, and, ignoring the visitor chairs, remained on his feet. “Lor Lu,” he said, “we may have a security problem. I got a call from Tommy Yellow Bear. He thinks we had a prowler last night, and asked me to come out to the camp. So I did.”

“A prowler?”

“A guy driving an old car. He seemed okay when he drove in. Afterward he visited several tents, asking questions. Ate lunch and supper with a family named Espinosa. Later they discovered a pen they thought was his, so Espinosa went to the guy’s car to give it to him. He wasn’t there. Thinking maybe he’d gone to the latrine or shower house, Espinosa hung around for a few minutes. When the guy didn’t come back, Espinosa returned to his tepee. Later, before going to bed, he went to the car again, and the guy still wasn’t there.

“Before breakfast, about 7 o’clock, he tried again—Espinosa, that is. The car was gone. Aside from some chewing gum wrappers, all he found was this. So he went to Tommy with it, and Tommy called me.” Knowles laid his attaché case on Lor Lu’s desk and took out a metal disk the size of a fat nickel.

“What is it?”

“That’s what I asked Espinosa.” Knowles held up the small metal disk again. “He was in a ranger battalion. He said it’s the kind of battery they used in their night goggles. And it made him suspicious, because some of Krause’s conversation had seemed a little strange. Krause is the name the guy gave. Tommy verified it. They use similar goggles on the tower. I suppose they’re used in other things, too, but it’s suggestive.” Knowles laid the battery on the desk.

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