Plot Line by Alton Gansky

they
found a way to bridge the gulf that separates the world we know
from the spiritual world described in the Bible.” He paused. “I
can’t know what they were looking for, but the researchers may have
opened a door between these two worlds. Worse, they may have opened
the door to the worst possible place.”
    “Tartarus.”
    “Maybe. If so, I fear for everyone in the
lab.”
    “How does this help me? Even if it’s true,
how do I get the images out of my head?”
    Shackleton leaned over the table and spoke
firmly. “The Apostle Paul wrote something in the book of Ephesians
that may help. He said, ‘Our struggle is not against flesh and
blood, but against the rulers, against the powers, against the
world forces of this darkness, against the spiritual forces of
wickedness in the heavenly places. Therefore, take up the full
armor of God, so that you will be able to resist in the evil day,
and having done everything, to stand firm.’”
    “Heavenly places?”
    “The realm of spiritual beings,” Shackleton
explained. “I think you have seen what few, if any, have:
‘spiritual forces of wickedness.’ If I’m right, then your
protection must be a spiritual one—and the only spiritual solution
that works is Jesus.”
    “Jesus?” Ray spoke with disbelief. He was
thankful for Shackleton’s compassion. He was even more thankful the
man hadn’t laughed in his face, but he knew sooner or later,
religion would pop up in the conversation. “I’m not religious.”
    “Ray, do I strike you as an ignorant
man?”
    The question caught Ray off guard. “No, not
at all. You seem brighter than most people I know.”
    “I am not a religious man,
either. I’m a spiritual man. There’s a difference. I have spent much of my
life studying the things of God, and I assure you He is as real as
this table.” He rapped a knuckle on the wood surface. “Jesus, His
son, came in the flesh, lived among men, died on the cross for our
sin, was buried in a tomb, and raised from the dead. Those are not
suppositions those are the facts. I believe you’ve had an encounter
with something sinister, and I believe the help you need must come
from God through Christ.”
    Again, Ray shook his head. “I’m a writer. I
deal in fantasy, but fantasy is based in reality. I once had an
editor tell me that fiction must be more believable than life
itself. I just can’t believe the way you do.”
    “Despite all you’ve seen and
experienced?”
    “I appreciate your help, Pastor, I really
do. You’ve taken me seriously when anyone else would have called me
crazy, but all this talk of demons, angels, living creatures, is
beyond me. I don’t see how Jesus can help me.”
    Shackleton leaned forward. “Ray, when the
time comes, Jesus will be waiting. Call on him. If anyone needs
Jesus, it’s you, Ray. In your heart you know that.”
    “I’ll think about it,” Ray said.
    “Ray, do more than think
about it, act on
it.”

 
     
     
     
    Twelve
     
    Ray sat bolt upright in the
bed. His heart fluttered in his chest, his
breathing was ragged, sweat dripped from his face. Another
nightmare. He raised his hands to run them through his hair. They
shook. The dream had been so real. He had just lived through the
death of his wife and only child, yet it was only a dream. What
difference did that make to the mind and heart? Ray was shaken to
his core.
    “Another dream?” Nora’s voice floated up
from her place on the bed. Ray turned to look at her, but the room
was too dark. He could see nothing.
    “Yeah, another dream.” He draped his legs
over the edge of the bed and sat up.
    “This can’t go on, you know.”
    “Yeah. I know.” Ray stood.
    “Where are you going?” Nora asked.
    “To the kitchen. I need a drink. You go back
to sleep.” Ray didn’t wait for a response, and made his way through
the dark, his hand in front of him. He knew the bedroom well enough
to know where the door was. Once he touched the doorjamb, he would
be able to find