The Fourth Trumpet by Theresa Jenner Garrido Page A

.”
    “Andrea will get you some soup, then you can tell us your side of it. Try to relax, Father Joe. You’re safe for the time being. This is Andrea’s house—her family disappeared when all this mess started.”
    Andrea made a face. “Hi, Father, uh, Joe.”
    “And this, here, is the Reverend Eleazar Thomas from Twin Oaks Baptist Church.”
    Father Joe smiled up at the old man. “Yeah, we’ve met. At the Christian Churches Reach Out picnic a few years ago. We were partners in crime, if I remember.”
    Eleazar beamed. “Oh, yes, that we were, that we were. You are correct. You and I were quite in sync, as I recall. Quite outshone the others, if I am allowed a bit of pride.”
    “Yes, we sure did.” The two clerics chuckled but didn’t elaborate. The injured man glanced over at Carrie, who was curled up in her chair, stroking her swollen abdomen, the blanket loose around her shoulders. “And the soon-to-be mama?” he motioned with his head.
    “That’s Carrie, my next-door neighbor,” Keith explained. “Her husband, Rob, is also among the missing.”
    The priest nodded, face puckering as he processed the implication of what “missing” might mean.
    “Okay. Andrea, how about getting Father Joe that soup,” Keith said with a burst of enthusiasm.
    Andrea jumped up and in less than a minute brought back a steaming mug for the priest. Keith held it up to the man’s lips so he could take tentative sips. When he’d downed more than half the cup, the priest sank back and released another long sigh. “That was good,” he murmured. “Thanks.”
    “Okay,” Keith puffed out his cheeks. “Please tell us what you know about this crappy nightmare.”
    The priest paused for a moment’s reflection then shook his head. “I wish I could. All I know is I was asleep in my bed at the rectory. Something wakened me. I got up to have a look around, and plain didn’t see anything amiss, except I did think it was darker outside than usual.” His laugh was sheepish. “I know that sounds hokey. It was night, so of course it’d be dark, but, I don’t know, it just seemed darker, if you know what I mean.”
    “ I sure do,” Andrea said, nodding. Keith and Eleazar murmured agreement.
    “Well, anyway, it was so incredibly dark, and I was suddenly struck with the crazy thought that, maybe, I hadn’t remembered to lock the church. I hate doing it—always feel the church should be open 24/7 for anyone who needs to pay a visit. Anyway, I threw on some clothes and took my lantern to check it out.”
    A stricken look washed over the man’s face and Andrea thought he was about to break down. He continued, looking over their heads at something only he could see.
    “The side door into the church was open. I knew that door had been locked so I was afraid something nasty was afoot. And then I saw the flames. The church was on fire and oh, God, I ran back to the rectory to call the fire department but the phone was dead. I thought, then, that someone had cut the wires. I was at my wits’ end. I ran back to the church, went inside—I needed to get the Eucharist if I didn’t do anything else—but the flames were higher than my head. The church was being devoured right before my eyes. Nothing I could do. I tried to get the Blessed Sacrament out, I tried—”
    As the priest’s voice rose in his utter despair, Eleazar got up and sat on the edge of the coffee table, facing the distressed man. “Joseph. You did all you could. Christ knows that you gave your all to save what you thought precious in His sight. Please, calm yourself. No one, least of all God, expected you to do more.”
    Father Joe stared at the old man for a long moment and then settled back against the cushions. One tear trickled down his bruised cheek. “I know. I know. I did my best, but…”
    “But nothing, young man. You are only human. You cannot walk through fire.” The black pastor chuckled. “At least, I have not heard that you Catholic priests can