Revelations (27 page)

“This one,” he replies, pulling me closer to him, his warm breath ghosting over my ear, causing me to shiver. “Considering the position you and I are in at this moment, I have to ask—what would Jesus do?”

I burst into sudden laughter. He’s caught me quite unawares, and for a few moments I’m unable to speak—and certainly unable to answer his question, which is probably just as well, ’cause what I’d do and what I’d like to do are certainly not appropriate for this time and place. Not to mention we have a distinct lack of privacy going on here. It’s at this very moment the door to the jailhouse opens, and in bursts Kathy Kaplan, her arms laden with a variety of packages. Her husband jumps to his feet, taking them from her. I can tell from his face he has no idea what she’s brought, or why, which doesn’t slow her up in the slightest. I take advantage of their current pre-occupation to move off of Judas, who’s laughing himself. It’s good to hear him laugh, it’s been too long. It feels good, too. I steal a kiss, as I whisper, in answer to his question, “I’ll show you later.” Assuming I can, of course.

Since I’m under the assumption that the sheriff’s wife has brought the sheriff’s dinner, I’m perplexed when Kaplan seems prepared to leave, rather than to eat.

Judas and I exchange looks, but he’s as clueless as I am. Kaplan approaches the cell, having just checked and holstered his weapon. “Well, gentlemen,” he says with a grin, “my backup’s here, so I’ll be on my way.”

“Your wife?” Judas asks, as she’s the only other person here, skepticism evident in his tone. “No offense, Sheriff, but what sort of security are you leaving us with? No offense, Kathy,” he adds, as the subject of his question comes to stand beside her husband, looking rather amused herself, rather than offended. Kaplan says nothing, deferring to her to respond to the question, with a wave of one hand.

“None taken,” she assures him, pulling back her jacket just far enough to reveal she’s armed, a handgun tucked into a holster that sits upon her hip as if it belongs there.

“Kathy used to be my deputy,” the sheriff explains, grinning proudly. “That’s how we met. She’s one of the best shots in the state.” I’m very surprised, as I’d never have suspected beneath her sweet exterior lurks the heart of a law enforcement official. Judas looks just as surprised as I am.

“Don’t worry.” She laughs. “My reputation is only on the range. I’ve never had to shoot anyone in my life.”

“I pray you have no need to do so tonight.” I feel secure that she’ll do her best to keep us safe, although to be honest, I hadn’t felt insecure before. After all, I’ve made a deal with the devil, and it’s in his own best interest to keep us safe from harm until the bargain can be completed. Both of us. As I’m contemplating these things, and more, Kathy presses a paper bag into her husband’s hand—probably his dinner —and sends him out the door to keep an eye on what will be happening tonight at Mary’s concert. I can only pray all will go well, and everyone will stay safe.

Once her husband is safely on his way, Kathy turns back to the two of us, and there’s a gleam in her eyes of the “I’m up to something” variety. “I need you two out here for a few minutes,” she informs us, crooking her finger as if to beckon us out. Judas doesn’t wait to be told twice. He takes my hand and leads me out of the cell. I confess it’s nice to be outside of its confines for more than visits to the men’s room, even if only temporarily. There’s something about being behind bars that isn’t conducive to maintaining a pleasant disposition. I imagine it’s the whole idea of being confined against one’s will. “Now,” she continues, “just be patient for a few minutes, please, feel free to talk amongst yourselves…” That isn’t a difficult order to obey, and she
is
in charge, after all. We stand together, our arms about one another, all our attention focused on one another, relaxing in our mutual warmth. I wonder if she’s searching the cell for something, but somehow I doubt it, as she’s taken her bags in with her. I burrow my face into Judas’ robes and inhale his sweet fragrance, losing all sense of time until she announces we can return. Much too quickly, it seems, until we discover just what she’s been doing.

We’re both staring in open-mouthed amazement at what a change has been wrought in such a short time. She’s taken the one table that’s in the cell, divested it of its lamp, and set a lit candle in the middle of it, as well as a slender vase occupied by two lilies, whose stems twine about one another. An old record player has been set up and plugged in, and from it can be heard the soothing strains of classic melodies. Also upon the table, I can see dinner for two has been served, complete with a bottle of wine. I’m beyond stunned, I’m incredibly moved. Neither one of us seems capable of speech, and I can see Kathy’s pleased with our reactions.

“I know you guys can do better than this once you get out,” she begins, almost apologetically, “but I felt bad for you, and what you’ve had to go through.” A pointed glance at Judas’ forehead speaks volumes. “I figured since everyone else will be at the concert, you could have some privacy, you know? This will be your last supper here, so I hope you both enjoy it.” She moves to leave the cell, to let us begin our night, but Judas surprises us both by stopping her, taking her hand in his and kissing it respectfully.

“You’re a saint, madam,” he says in a low voice, thick with emotion. “I hope your husband appreciates what a gem he has…” The sheriff’s wife blushes at his words, smiling in a very pleased way. She hugs us both, murmurs she’ll be in the sheriff’s office if we need her, and takes her leave of us.

What dinner consists of I cannot say. Neither do I know what sort of wine it is, as I barely taste either. I’m sure they’re both wonderful, but it’s too hard to focus on anything but Judas. Left to my own devices, I probably wouldn’t bother to eat, but it’s imperative I maintain the facade for as long as possible. I also know if I don’t eat, Judas won’t either. So we have this, our last meal together for a long time to come, and we talk about the kindness of Kathy Kaplan, the artistic talent of her daughter which is evident around us, and whatever else comes to mind—

anything and everything. It’s impossible to say it all, in such a short time, but we try.

Once we’ve eaten our fill, Jude rises and sets the table against the wall. He flips the record to the other side, and restarts it. The haunting strains of Strangers in the Night can be heard. “C’mere.” He beckons to me, reaching for my hand. I give it to him, of course, unsure of what he intends. There’s nowhere to go. Literally.

Only this place is left to us, only this night.

He pulls me to him, our bodies touching intimately, as he holds my hand in his, his other arm going about my waist, and I begin to perceive his intentions. I’m not sure how good I’ll be at it, but I’ll give it all I’ve got. For him. For Judas. As if he senses my uncertainty, he murmurs, “You can do it, it’s really easy,” and as he begins to move, my body simply follows his, falling into a simple two step rhythm, a gentle back and forth motion. He’s right—it’s not very hard at all.

We spend the evening dancing, our arms about one another. Sometimes we kiss, other times he just holds me tightly, my head upon his shoulder, and we take comfort from our proximity. He turns the record as needed.

I dread the end of this night. I don’t want it to end. I want to stay here, in Judas’ arms, forever. If only it could be. We’ve moved past words now, but every so often I love you’s are given and returned. That says it all. At some point, he moves us to the cot. We lie upon it together, fully clothed. A small voice warns me I need to make him leave, as I don’t know exactly how Lucifer intends to play it all out. I really don’t wish Judas to witness any of it. But I find myself unable to say so, and I suspect he really has no intention of leaving me tonight, so it would be futile on my part anyway. I bury my face into his chest, hold onto him as tightly as I can, and somewhere along the line, I simply fall asleep.

Once Jesus has fallen asleep in my arms, I lie awake, holding him closely, protecting him as well as I’m able in this here and now. I listen to the measure of his quiet breathing, grateful he’s at peace, at least for the moment. My own thoughts won’t allow me to rest. I’m thinking ahead, wondering how Lightbringer intends to do this thing, how the final events will play themselves out to their unexpected conclusion. Unexpected to everyone but me, the orchestrator of this new ending to our familiar story. How will I explain it all to God when I see him?

Obviously I’ll see Him first, long before his son does. And He’ll probably be pissed. Yeah, that’s a bit of an understatement. But I can’t worry about that, not now. First things first. Which is Jesus’ safety.

I couldn’t have asked for a better night with him. It was unbelievable, thanks to Kathy Kaplan. I don’t know how to thank her, but I intend to try. No interruptions, not one, as we danced together all night long to the sweet sounds of the Chairman of the Board. I imagine Lucifer and his group were keeping themselves busy at the concert, maybe causing a disturbance or two. I don’t really give a fuck what they were doing, as long as they weren’t here, bothering us.

Tomorrow, bail will be set. Kaplan seems confident it will be swift and affordable. Once that’s taken care of, then the going becomes a bit tricky. Because this is the part of the script that’s changing, and although I know what the change will be, I don’t know how it will be put into effect. All I do know is I’ll die in Jesus’ stead. Lucifer will see to it that Jesus is safe. But I can’t be sure when or how it will happen, just that it will. So I also don’t know how much time we’ll have together before it happens. We’ll have to make the most of what time we do have, make every moment count.

My sweet prince murmurs softly in his sleep. I lean in to him, listening.

“Judas,” he mumbles, nothing more. That makes me happy. I kiss him softly, and he nestles even closer against me, silent once more.
Dear God, please understand
what it is that I do. I love your son, I want him to be happy; he deserves a real life.

Please don’t be angry with him for anything, he’s no idea what I’m doing, but
please watch over him.
Not that I think He wouldn’t—that’s His son, after all.

I drift off after a time to dreams of Jesus and I in which we slowly dance together in a world that consists of us and us alone. A world of utter peace and serenity, filled with nothing but love. If only this perfect place existed in the real world, a place where any two people who love one another can be together, without incurring the enmity or scorn of society.

I’m brought back into sudden consciousness by the sound of voices, jarring voices, angry and demanding voices. I’ve no idea how long I’ve been asleep. The small glimpse of the sky I can garner through the single window in the cell shows nothing but darkness, therefore I reason it must be late. What the fuck’s going on?

Who’s here? Jesus is awake as well. I can feel the tension in his body, as we try to make some sense out of what’s happening.

The lights have suddenly been flipped on—an odd thing for intruders to do—

allowing me a better look at them. I can see now it’s Lucifer’s people. A whole crowd of them, crammed into the jailhouse. Some I’ve seen before, on the picket line. Others I don’t recognize. But they’re clearly together. And well armed. I see no sign of either Sheriff Kaplan or his wife. That can’t be good. Surely the sheriff came to relieve his wife after the concert? At least I assume so, as I’ve no idea of the time. So where is he then? Just as I wonder this, Kathy Kaplan appears in the doorway to the sheriff’s office, gun in hand, cocked and aimed at the assembled mob. For I have no doubt that’s what they are, a mob. For what purpose? I don’t know, but whatever it is, it can’t be good.

“Stop right where you are,” she warns them, walking slowly toward them, her weapon clearly intended to keep them at bay, no more. “It’s the middle of the night, you have no business here. I’m going to have to ask you all to please leave the premises immediately.”

Jesus and I have gained our feet now, and I’m trying to figure out the best way to keep him safe. For the moment all I can do is to simply stand in front of him protectively, trying to assess the tenor of the crowd, divine their intentions. Are they here for me? Is this what Lucifer has planned? If so, where is the big prick hiding?

A spokesperson steps forward, toward Kathy. One of Lucifer’s regulars, I recognize him from the last time they broke in on Jesus and I. Not the father of that boy. I don’t see him anywhere. This man wouldn’t be nearly so brave if he didn’t have all those armed men at his back.

“P-please don’t interfere. We’ve been given a job to do, and we’re going to do it.”

“A job?” She fixes him with a skeptical look. “I have no idea who or what you’re talking about, but this is my husband’s jail, and you’ve no business being in it at this time of night. If you want something, come back in the morning, when he’s here.”

So far the crowd has taken no notice of either of us, which is good, and I’m wondering if this is a prelude of sorts, although I can’t see what purpose it serves.

The concert must still be going on though. Can this be a coincidence that all these people are here now, when the sheriff isn’t? I don’t think so.

“We’ve been sent by Him,” the spokesman continues, “to take care of the sinner in our midst!” Suddenly all attention pivots toward us as he points a dramatic finger at the cell. Oh shit, this can’t be good.

“Him who?” Kathy remains calm, but she never lowers her weapon either.

“Never mind, that doesn’t matter. You all need to leave now. I won’t allow you to harm anyone. You all need to go.”

“God!” screams the man in reply to her question; his cry is taken up and echoed through the group. Along with other cries of heathen, sinner, and pervert.

They’re looking directly at us now. Before I have a chance to think, or devise a plan of action, they’re swarming toward us, like the insects that they are. I can’t help but think that right about now a gun of my own would be a very handy thing to have. But of course I don’t have one. I’ll have to remedy that when I can.