Healed: A Short Thriller Read online

  Jonas’s face was burning. “You want to know what blasphemy is? Blasphemy is sitting here every damn week, preaching about a man in the sky who isn’t listening!”

  He didn’t wait for anyone to answer. Jonas dropped the microphone, turned and left the church. He didn’t want it anymore. Let them have it.

  * * *

  Not expecting his ride to come to his aid, Pastor Weir walked, not paying much attention to where his feet carried him. He finally found himself in an unsavory part of town. Taking a seat on a nearby bench, he scanned his surroundings. It was only midday, and plenty of people were scattered about; most of them appeared homeless. When his father was alive, Jonas would have considered going to these people and offering them a kind word, but nothing he would say now could possibly do them any good.

  “Excuse me?”

  Jonas looked in the direction from which the voice came and met eyes with a small child. He was malnourished and wore garments that were less clothing and more tattered, rotten strings.

  “Excuse me,” the voice said again. “Are you a preacher? You’re holding a bible. You sure look like a preacher.”

  “I was,” Jonas said. “Not anymore.”

  “Oh,” the child answered. “I was hoping you could help me.”

  “I have a few dollars.”

  “Not with money. It’s my sister.”

  “What’s wrong with her?”

  “She’s dying.”

  “There’s nothing I can do for her. You need to get her to a hospital.”

  “No! No hospital! She can’t go to another hospital! You save her!”

  The child didn’t wait for his response. He grabbed Jonas by the hand and pulled at him. For some reason that he couldn’t understand himself, Jonas stood and followed the child to a large abandoned building. They entered and were greeted by two adults—one man and one woman. Their clothes were in worse condition than the child’s, and they were both covered in sores.

  “Who is this?”

  The child motioned for Jonas to come closer. “He’s a preacher, daddy! I found a preacher. He can save her!”

  “Is this true? Have you come to pray for my daughter?”

  Jonas nodded.

  “She’s back here. Not even a man of God can help her at this point, but if you want to pray over her, I won’t complain.”

  They went to a back room where a child, smaller than the filthy young boy, lay in a heap of old blankets.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Jonas asked.

  “Nobody knows, but she’s not long for this world. Look mister, I really appreciate what you’re doing here, but I don’t think you understand the gravity of the situation. That bible ain’t gonna help you.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  The man smiled, hugging his son close. “You’ll find out when you see her.”

  Jonas squinted to see, but the shadows enveloped everything but the blankets.

  “What’s her name?”

  The girl’s father cleared his throat. “Rose. After her mother’s red hair and the red petals from the garden we used to have.”

  Jonas’s eyes went wide. “I’m sorry. The red what?”

  “The red petals. But I’m sure they’ve withered by now.”

  He clenched his bible close and approached the girl. What the man had said must have been a coincidence. There was no other way to explain it! He knelt down and opened his bible. Placing a hand on the appropriate page to mark it, he uncovered the child to get a better look.

  He expected to see a sickly young girl, but what Jonas found was a tiny skull gazing sightlessly at him—through him.

  “Oh, my God! What have you done?”

  There was no reply.

  The pastor stood and turned around, but no one was there. Jonas grabbed his cell phone to use as a light, and looked around the room. He found three more skeletons on the opposite side of the room; two appeared to be adults and the other was yet another child.

  He fell, hitting the ground below hard. He ran fingers through his hair, fighting against the urge to scream. When he could think clearly again, Pastor Jonas Weir did the only thing he knew to do.

  He called the police and waited for them to arrive.

  Chapter 5

  Jonas Weir awoke to find that he was strapped to a bed in a strange place he’d never seen before. The walls were white and unadorned with any manner of decoration. A man in a white coat knelt over him, and there were several security guards positioned by the door.

  “What’s going on?” Jonas asked. “I called the police and I can’t remember anything else.”

  “Don’t excite yourself, Harold. You’re in the same place you’ve been for the last several years.”

  Jonas blinked. “What did you just call me? My name’s Jonas! Jonas Weir! I’m very well known in my community. I’m a pastor at Eternal Faith and Promise Church!”

  “Okay, Harold. You’re a pastor. Now hold still.”

  He tried to wiggle out of his binds, but it was of no use. Jonas felt a sting in his arm as the man hovering above him stuck him with a needle. He tried to scream, but his sight began to grow dim and his tongue wouldn’t move.

  * * *

  Doctor Whitmore exited the room and addressed the students watching through the window.

  “Can anyone diagnose him?”

  A young man, also dressed in a lab coat stepped forward. “Well, he exhibits classic symptoms of Dissociative Identity Disorder, but he also displays characteristics not uncommon with Schizophrenia and Manic Depressive Disorder.”

  “You’re close. Very close.”

  “Doctor?”

  “Yes?”

  The young man cleared his throat. “Can you tell us why he’s here?”

  “It’s complicated, and frankly, unnerving. A few years ago, he wandered into a small town and convinced twelve people that he was starting a church. He went by the alias Jonas Weir. He managed to pull the wool over their eyes for quite a while, even going as far as holding services at an old abandoned church out in the woods. One member of his congregation even allowed the man to live in one of his rental homes.”

  Doctor Whitmore paused for a moment to let his students absorb the information, and then continued.

  “Eventually, he grew tired of the charade and murdered most of his congregation. One of them, an elderly woman on her deathbed, he electrocuted while she lay in a hospital bed. He killed five of them in their homes the day before his final church service. The six who actually made it to church the next day were murdered in their pews.”

  “Oh, he also stabbed a man and his wife while they were walking home from a late movie.”

  Several students gasped. The young man blinked in surprise. “Unnerving is an understatement.”

  “He had multiple modes of attack. The married couple was killed with a knife. Harold Jaines also kept a hollowed out bible on his person at all times. It housed a small handgun; his favorite weapon. Remember, if any of you ever get the chance to work with him, exercise caution.”

  The students nodded in turn.

  “Are there any other victims?”

  “As far as we know, there were four additional victims, dating back to nearly a decade ago. He murdered a family of four and dumped them in an abandoned building. Apparently, he brought them fresh roses each week from their own garden. He still becomes very irritated when he remembers the roses.”

  “Why’s that?” Asked the young student.

  “It’s unclear, but he’s been noted to act out when he sees dead flowers. He’ll often stay awake late into the night screaming that ‘the red petals wither’ if he’s not sedated.”

 

 

 
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