When we last saw Adam, he was emerging from the forrest, being lead into the light by his mysterious friend. Grateful for the the help, Adam pledged his life to his new master...
Illumination
A rustling in the brush caused Adam to hesitate in his journey. Caminero continued without looking back, but Adam was curious. A man emerged from the woods and greeted Adam with a large grin.
“Hello, my name is Chicane, how are you?” He held out an eager hand to Adam, who politely received it. “What is your name?”
“Adam.”
Chicane smiled warmly at him and paused to consider the name. “Adam.” He mused. “That is a fine sounding name if I have ever heard one. What brings you here?”
“I have lost my way while journeying. Caminero has graciously offered to help me find the way.”
Chicane glanced over at Caminero, who had paused a few feet away, and seemed to pay no attention to Chicane. Adam noticed that the two made a deliberate point not to stand too close together. “Caminero is it? I wondered what you were calling yourself these days.”
Caminero offered no response. Adam raised his voice. “You know each other?”
Chicane waved nonchalantly. “Of course. We are the only two that know the paths. No one knows them as we do. In fact, anyone that ventures this way will be guided by one of us. Only luck will determine who will guide the lost souls.”
Adam hesitated. Caminero had been very clear that only he knew the right path to take. Now Chicane was proclaiming the same.
Chicane peered deep into Adam’s eyes. “Ah, I see that you are confused. Caminero often misleads trusting souls. You won’t be the first.”
“The first what?”
He glanced at Caminero. “He has told other people that they can find the right path with his help, but he fails to tell them that they have a choice. That they have other options.”
There was something familiar about Chicane, as if they had met before. Adam stepped closer. “Tell me more. What other options?”
Chicane almost spoke in a whisper causing Adam to lean closer to him. “I imagine he told you that only he knew the right path, and that he established the paths.” Adam nodded in agreement. “Did he tell you that I also know the way?” Adam shook his head. “Did he tell you about the price you will pay to follow him?”
Adam stole a glance at Caminero, who was waiting patiently. “What price? I have nothing of value.” He imagined that he could trust Chicane. After all, he was telling him the truth, or at lest what appeared to be the truth.
“Ah, but you are wrong.” Chicane stepped closer to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. Adam did not flinch. “You have your life, and you will pay with it when you reach the end. In fact, you will pay with your life before you reach the end.”
“But how is that possible?”
Chicane scolded his peer with pursed lips. “How could you lie to him like that? Adam is a trusting soul, and you take advantage of him.” He directed his attention to Adam. “It is similar to selling your soul.” He leaned closer to Adam. “Surely he told you that one path will lead to death?” Adam nodded. “Good, at lest that much he told you. There are two paths, but they are very close together. You have to be extra careful, or someone may trick you into following the wrong path and paying for your mistake with your life.” He stared intently at Caminero, who was ignoring him. “Did he tell you that you can learn to see the path on your own?”
“No, I was not told that I could learn to see for myself. However, after coming out of the forest, I can see the path much clearer now.”
“Good! You are a quick study. I like a man with a sharp, clear mind that can think for himself.” Chicane wrapped an arm around him as if they were friends. “I alone know the absolute truth regarding this path, you must be careful, or you will die. If I were you, I would tell this Caminero to take leave.”
Adam gazed hard at Caminero. Turmoil boiled within him, daring him to dismiss his friend. Caminero patiently waited for Adam to make his choice as if repeating a dance from long times past. Adam struggled to make sense of his new revelation. Had Caminero deliberately deceived him, or was Chicane now attempting to deceive him? After a moment of pause, Caminero spoke. “There is much darkness ahead, Adam. If you are going to make it we must leave now.”
Chicane leaned forward and whispered, “don’t you see what he is doing? You and I can both see the path. It is clearly laid out before us. You no longer need Caminero. Thank him for his services and send him on his way. Save your own soul, you should not have to pay so dearly for his help. A man’s life is too valuable to be wasted on trickery.”
Adam’s mind blurred. He was unable to think rationally. His mind told him that he was able to continue on his way without help. Yet, his senses told him that there was much darkness ahead. Danger, possibly death would become his companion if he continued without guidance. At long last, Adam made a decision. “Caminero, thank you for your help. I will be fine from here.”
Caminero spoke without moving. “The choice is yours, and I will abide by your decision. However, know this. When you are surrounded by darkness, simply call out my name and I will be there. There will be a time on your path when you can no longer call out to me, for I will not be found.”
“When will that moment be?”
“At the end, when it is too late.”
Adam hesitated. Chicane stepped forward and stood between them. “Have you forgotten that his fee for help is very costly? I will offer the same help but will charge much less.”
“Oh? Go on.”
“I will charge you nothing. In fact, I will point you in the right direction and allow you to make your own way, like a man. You won’t need me to hold your hand as you make your own path, for you are not a child, you don’t need help. When you arrive at your destination, you won’t have to pay with your life.”
Adam nodded in approval. “Yes, I like that. I am a man and I can find my own way. Thank you, Caminero. I appreciate your help.” He waved a salutation at him, summarily dismissing his former host. Caminero turned and continued in the direction they had been walking.
“You have made a fine choice, Adam. You don’t need anyone holding your hand; you will make it on your own.” He pointed with a crooked finger at the path. “The way is clear. If it seems right to you, then take it. You can see well enough now, and the light only grows stronger the further you go. I now bid you peace and luck.”
“Before I depart, Caminero offered me some water. I am very thirsty, do you have water?”
“I do in fact.” He handed Adam a skin of water. Adam didn’t see where the skin was hidden within Chicane’s clothing. He almost seemed to produce it from nothing. He greedily drank from the vessel, but stopped after a few gulps. “This water… It doesn’t taste right.”
“I assure you that it is pure.”
“It is the same as the water Caminero offered me?”
“It is reasonably similar.”
Adam drank again. “Funny, it seems to be a little bitter.”
Chicane waved the concern away. “Don’t worry, the more you drink, the better you grow accustomed to it. Drink up! You have a long journey ahead.”
Amazingly, Chicane’s prediction was true. The water almost tasted sweet after a few more sips. Adam shook Chicane’s hand and thanked his new friend, continuing on his way. The path was clear and he had no trouble find his steps. How could he miss the path? Everything was so clear to him. He hummed as he walked. He was at peace with the world.
To Be Continued--one more time!
Monday, March 2, 2009
Illumination Part I
Illumination is, you will find, as complicated as any story I write. I first envisioned it after reading Young Goodman Brown, by Nathaniel Hawthorne. This will be a three part story, so pace yourself. I won't stretch it out too long, so try to enjoy the story. Trust me, it's worth staying with it to the end.
ILLUMINATION
In the darkness, somewhere around the beginning, two roads diverged in the woods. Originally, the path was made straight, but the darkness caused the way to become obscure. The journeyman stood at the edge of the light, pondering how he had missed the path. He did not know how, but he knew that he had to find his way again, or he would be doomed to wander the darkness, aimlessly searching for the way. He could not find the clues he needed, for the darkness was overwhelming, like a cloak that could not be removed, confining him from the light. He had no staff with which to prod the darkness, so he found himself searching on his knees, his hands stretched out in front of him, groping, searching. Finding nothing recognizable he leaned against a tree, waiting for the light to come to him.
“What’s this, a lost stranger?” A voice jolted him from his sleep. He looked and vaguely saw a man standing before him; this one held a staff.
His reply was humble and polite. “I have lost my way, I cannot continue in my journey until I discover what happened to my path.” He waited while the stranger seemed to accept his plight.
“Come with me, my friend, for I have walked this path many times before. In fact, I have stood in the same place you are now, looking for the way.” He paused and stroked his bearded face, then spoke without seeming to move his mouth. “I have walked this path so many times that I am the path. I am so familiar with every part of the path, down to the very pebbles lining its edge, that I can traverse it blindfolded.”
The journeyman spoke. “I am waiting for light before continuing on my way, for I am lost, and wish not to be lost even more than I am now.”
The stranger nodded with approval. “It is a wise thing you have said, but come with me, for the light is growing stronger even as I have arrived.”
The journeyman surveyed his surroundings; indeed the light was growing brighter. A new day was dawning. He arose from his tree and followed the stranger, who had not waited for him before continuing. After matching his stride he spoke softly, not wanting to violate the quiet still air. “My name is Adam, I believe that I am the first to journey this way.”
“I am called Caminero. I have journeyed this way on many occasions, you are not the first.”
“But I have seen no sign of others, where are they? Those that have gone before, I mean.”
“There are many things you do not know.”
“But where are they?” His question was not impolite, but he regretted the tone it imposed.
Caminero shuffled in his step, but never slowed pace. Adam found it difficult to maintain this speed in the darkness. When Caminero showed no intention to answer the question, Adam repeated himself.
“You ask many questions, Adam.”
“I have many questions in my mind that I wish to be answered. For instance, who are you?”
“I am only here to help you find your way in the dark, it is my job. I establish justice for those that are lost; I guide them to the path.”
“Of whom do you speak?”
“Of those who are lost. Every man’s life will lead him along this path. Only their steps are different, but the end of the path is crucial. Therefore, you must be sure to be on the right path at the end.”
“Who made this path? The one that we are on is now seems well traveled; some one must have gone before us. How do you know this is the right path?”
“When you are in the light, you can plainly see the path that is before you. When you are in the darkness, you can’t see clearly to follow the path.”
“Tell me, Caminero, why do you talk in riddles?”
Caminero laughed with genuine humor. “Do I speak in riddles, or do you hear in them? Perhaps my speech is regular and you hear backwards. On this path there are many things that seem right, but are not.”
“Tell me more about this path.”
“There are two paths, this one and the other. There is a path that seems right to everyone, but the end of that road is...” His voice trailed off.
“The end of the road is what?”
Caminero sighed. “Death.”
Adam considered that. Caminero was genuinely distressed by his own words. “What does that mean?”
“Every person that has gone before you has walked along this very path. There is a time in each life when there is only one path. Shortly after the beginning the paths grow separate, but many people do not realize that there are two paths. Few of those who realize they are one the wrong path will find their way back to the right one.”
“How do they find the right passageway?”
“They must be guided by me. I alone know the path that must be taken, for this road will lead to death.”
“What does that mean, ‘this road will led to death?’”
Caminero continued without appearing to grow weary of the questions. “As I have said before, there is a path that leads to death, for there are many pitfalls on this road. The end of this path is a dead end. However, at the end, there is not time to turn around, for the darkness pays its laborers with death. Many dangers await you ahead, many opportunities to fail.”
“But how can I know that you truly know the way?”
Caminero laughed again. “I have told you that I alone know the way. I established this path, and the other, long before you started walking.”
“Where are we going now?”
“I am leading you into the light, it is not far ahead.”
“What happens when we get to the light?”
“Let us get there, first. Many don’t make it that far.”
“And if I do?”
“Then I will give you water, for surely you will be thirsty by then.”
Adam stopped walking. “Sir, if you have water, I pray that you will give it to me now, for I am about to perish from thirst.”
“You must wait until you are in the light, for you cannot see to drink in the dark.”
Adam walked in silence for a time. He found the road difficult to follow without stumbling. Yet, Caminero walked with ease and never snagged a toe, moving like a lion on the hunt. Adam noticed that Caminero seemed to have more light around him than did he. In fact, the light seemed to follow Caminero, while avoiding Adam.
Suddenly, the woods thinned and they stood in a large meadow. The path they were on was plainly seen and continued over the rise. Adam noticed that the light intensified as they emerged from the forest. He could see much clearer now.
“How far is the right path?”
“Every step takes us closer. Stay close to me and you will see it soon.”
“What happens when we get there? How will I know the way?”
“I will stay with you to the end; I will guide you until you reach your destination. Be patient, the path is just ahead. You must trust me, for I alone know the way. We must not stop, for there are many dangers ahead.”
“Sir, you have proven your worth to me, I will devote my life you as long as I have the means. After all, you brought me from the darkness.”
To Be Continued...
ILLUMINATION
In the darkness, somewhere around the beginning, two roads diverged in the woods. Originally, the path was made straight, but the darkness caused the way to become obscure. The journeyman stood at the edge of the light, pondering how he had missed the path. He did not know how, but he knew that he had to find his way again, or he would be doomed to wander the darkness, aimlessly searching for the way. He could not find the clues he needed, for the darkness was overwhelming, like a cloak that could not be removed, confining him from the light. He had no staff with which to prod the darkness, so he found himself searching on his knees, his hands stretched out in front of him, groping, searching. Finding nothing recognizable he leaned against a tree, waiting for the light to come to him.
“What’s this, a lost stranger?” A voice jolted him from his sleep. He looked and vaguely saw a man standing before him; this one held a staff.
His reply was humble and polite. “I have lost my way, I cannot continue in my journey until I discover what happened to my path.” He waited while the stranger seemed to accept his plight.
“Come with me, my friend, for I have walked this path many times before. In fact, I have stood in the same place you are now, looking for the way.” He paused and stroked his bearded face, then spoke without seeming to move his mouth. “I have walked this path so many times that I am the path. I am so familiar with every part of the path, down to the very pebbles lining its edge, that I can traverse it blindfolded.”
The journeyman spoke. “I am waiting for light before continuing on my way, for I am lost, and wish not to be lost even more than I am now.”
The stranger nodded with approval. “It is a wise thing you have said, but come with me, for the light is growing stronger even as I have arrived.”
The journeyman surveyed his surroundings; indeed the light was growing brighter. A new day was dawning. He arose from his tree and followed the stranger, who had not waited for him before continuing. After matching his stride he spoke softly, not wanting to violate the quiet still air. “My name is Adam, I believe that I am the first to journey this way.”
“I am called Caminero. I have journeyed this way on many occasions, you are not the first.”
“But I have seen no sign of others, where are they? Those that have gone before, I mean.”
“There are many things you do not know.”
“But where are they?” His question was not impolite, but he regretted the tone it imposed.
Caminero shuffled in his step, but never slowed pace. Adam found it difficult to maintain this speed in the darkness. When Caminero showed no intention to answer the question, Adam repeated himself.
“You ask many questions, Adam.”
“I have many questions in my mind that I wish to be answered. For instance, who are you?”
“I am only here to help you find your way in the dark, it is my job. I establish justice for those that are lost; I guide them to the path.”
“Of whom do you speak?”
“Of those who are lost. Every man’s life will lead him along this path. Only their steps are different, but the end of the path is crucial. Therefore, you must be sure to be on the right path at the end.”
“Who made this path? The one that we are on is now seems well traveled; some one must have gone before us. How do you know this is the right path?”
“When you are in the light, you can plainly see the path that is before you. When you are in the darkness, you can’t see clearly to follow the path.”
“Tell me, Caminero, why do you talk in riddles?”
Caminero laughed with genuine humor. “Do I speak in riddles, or do you hear in them? Perhaps my speech is regular and you hear backwards. On this path there are many things that seem right, but are not.”
“Tell me more about this path.”
“There are two paths, this one and the other. There is a path that seems right to everyone, but the end of that road is...” His voice trailed off.
“The end of the road is what?”
Caminero sighed. “Death.”
Adam considered that. Caminero was genuinely distressed by his own words. “What does that mean?”
“Every person that has gone before you has walked along this very path. There is a time in each life when there is only one path. Shortly after the beginning the paths grow separate, but many people do not realize that there are two paths. Few of those who realize they are one the wrong path will find their way back to the right one.”
“How do they find the right passageway?”
“They must be guided by me. I alone know the path that must be taken, for this road will lead to death.”
“What does that mean, ‘this road will led to death?’”
Caminero continued without appearing to grow weary of the questions. “As I have said before, there is a path that leads to death, for there are many pitfalls on this road. The end of this path is a dead end. However, at the end, there is not time to turn around, for the darkness pays its laborers with death. Many dangers await you ahead, many opportunities to fail.”
“But how can I know that you truly know the way?”
Caminero laughed again. “I have told you that I alone know the way. I established this path, and the other, long before you started walking.”
“Where are we going now?”
“I am leading you into the light, it is not far ahead.”
“What happens when we get to the light?”
“Let us get there, first. Many don’t make it that far.”
“And if I do?”
“Then I will give you water, for surely you will be thirsty by then.”
Adam stopped walking. “Sir, if you have water, I pray that you will give it to me now, for I am about to perish from thirst.”
“You must wait until you are in the light, for you cannot see to drink in the dark.”
Adam walked in silence for a time. He found the road difficult to follow without stumbling. Yet, Caminero walked with ease and never snagged a toe, moving like a lion on the hunt. Adam noticed that Caminero seemed to have more light around him than did he. In fact, the light seemed to follow Caminero, while avoiding Adam.
Suddenly, the woods thinned and they stood in a large meadow. The path they were on was plainly seen and continued over the rise. Adam noticed that the light intensified as they emerged from the forest. He could see much clearer now.
“How far is the right path?”
“Every step takes us closer. Stay close to me and you will see it soon.”
“What happens when we get there? How will I know the way?”
“I will stay with you to the end; I will guide you until you reach your destination. Be patient, the path is just ahead. You must trust me, for I alone know the way. We must not stop, for there are many dangers ahead.”
“Sir, you have proven your worth to me, I will devote my life you as long as I have the means. After all, you brought me from the darkness.”
To Be Continued...
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
The Decision Maker--The Finale
And now I bring you the conclusion to this fascinating story. To date, Mr. Isaac Jacobs has taken a group of bankers and patrons hostage in his attempt to capture the men, former Nazis, who were responsible for killing his wife. He retold his story to the mass of humanity tuned in via Fox News, and is now about to execute the men who destroyed his life.
XXXX
“Mr. Jacobs?”
The gun never wavered. “Yes, Mr. Cato, do you have something to say?”
“Well, I reckon that these two fellows are guilty, just like you said. What can I do to save them the death sentence?”
“Why would you want to spare them?”
“Because all of us have sinned. There isn’t any of us that could pick up a stone and cast it at these two. We are all guilty of the same thing.”
“You have murdered, Mr. Cato? I find that highly improbable.”
“Well, the Bible says, ‘Thou shalt not commit murder,’ but Jesus said that if we hate anyone that we have committed murder in our hearts. I’ll bet that every person in this room has hated someone at some point in their lives, right?” He turned to the crowd, who sat dumbfounded. “What about you, Rose? Who have you hated?”
She spoke deliberately. “The father of my baby.”
“What about you, Miss Kincaid?”
“Well, I hate all men.”
“Fair enough.”
“What about you, Mr. Cato?” Rose asked.
“I spent most of my time hating God.”
Isaac turned around, clearly surprised. “God? I thought you said you were at peace with God.”
“I am now. There was a time in my past that I hated God. A few years ago, I was a fifth generation rancher, right here in Texas. My family had owned the Cato Cattle Company, the 3C Ranch, every since Texas has been a state. They fought Indians and Mexicans to maintain it. Then they fought West Texas weather. My family’s blood and sweat bought and maintained that country. But a few years ago, when the droughts started, I lost everything. I lost my children’s inheritance and I lost the family legacy. I prayed everyday that God would intervene, but He didn’t. I believed in Him up to the day they served me with the foreclosure papers. What I didn’t know was that God was allowing a work of redemption to take place in my heart. You see, I just thought I was a Christian because I went to the Baptist church, but that wasn’t enough. Just like sitting in a garage doesn’t make you a car. I had to find myself at the bottom to find redemption. I had nowhere else to go expect to God.”
“I assume that you have a point, Mr. Cato.”
“Well, sir. It seems to me that we have all committed murder in God’s sight. We are all guilty of breaking His law. We all deserve death, including you, Isaac.”
“That may be, Mr. Cato, but I have lived my entire life expecting to kill these two gentlemen, and I fully intend to do so. Someone will die today.”
“Then I will take their place, just like Jesus took my place. Don’t you see? Jesus made it possible for us to be saved, because He paid the ultimate price for our freedom. I don’t know why God allowed the holocaust to happen. I just know that God was there. Sometimes He doesn’t make sense. Our ways aren’t His ways and our thoughts aren’t His thoughts. I can’t explain why bad things like wars and ethnic cleansing take place, except that we are all sinners, but I can tell you that God will forgive us of our sins. Even the Blitz Brothers. You included, Mr. Jacobs.”
“Oh, it’s much too late for me, Mr. Cato.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, sir. But it will be too late when you die of cancer. You are no better than those two murderers. You have committed the same crime. The only difference is that their crime hurt more people than yours. You are just as guilty as they are. And all of you need God’s forgiveness, just as I did.”
Isaac considered his words for a moment. Was it possible? He had given up on God so many years before, could it be that God hadn’t given up on him? There was so much hatred spilling its venom deep into his soul. Not only had he hated the Germans, he had also hated God, whom he held responsible for the murder of so many devout Jews. “Mr. Cato, where was God during the holocaust? Why did He abandon us to death and destruction?”
“I don’t know. I’m not a theologian. What I do know is this, God was there. It’s hard to imagine, but it is true. It was bad enough as it was, can you imagine what it would have been like without Him? The holocaust wasn’t the first time that the Jews were persecuted. Remember what happened with Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego? They also were burned alive, just not by the Nazis, but by a different regime, the Babylonians. Those three might have lived through it, but how many of their brethren were slaughtered by the Babylonians? What about the Egyptians? They also enslaved the Jews for their own selfish purposes. But God was there for them. I don’t have an answer for you, except that God will never leave you nor forsake you.”
“You make a most persuasive argument, Mr. Cato. Yet, I am not willing that these men should go free. What do you propose?”
“If they are guilty, then I don’t want them to go free either. If they are guilty, then they must stand and give an account of their lives. Even when we ask God for forgiveness, there are still consequences for our actions. Allow the law to bring these men to justice. Isaac, one day soon you will die, then you will face the Throne of Judgment. I am more concerned that when you are brought to justice before God, that you are found innocent. The only way to do that is to repent of your sins and trust in the blood of Jesus and allow Him to forgive you.”
Silence encompassed the group, each of whom sat with their heads bowed deep in thought. The camera continued to record, but the reporter could not bring himself to break the silence. Isaac appeared to be struggling within himself, fighting for control. Yet, Cato’s words had burned deep within his heart, ripping the calluses off his seared conscience. For so many years, one desire consumed him – kill. Cato’s words rang true, vibrating through every tissue, into the core of his being.
Adolph Blitz sighed deeply and almost slumped to the floor, then righted himself and spoke softly. “I’m glad its over.”
David spoke harshly in his native tongue, but Adolph ignored his warning. “No, David, its over. I’m very tired of the nightmares. I want them to end. I’m tired of running.” He looked at Isaac, who still lorded over them, pistol drawn. “Mr. Jacobs, my apology is pitiful compared to my sins, but I still offer it. I was the one who held your wife that night. David shot her. Up to that point, I had not killed or seen anyone killed. But I realized that I was now a part of…. Somehow, I thought that I was serving God. But… I was wrong. I allowed anonymity to conceal my desire to be important, but it only created more thirst for power. Everyday, I remember my actions and everyday I wish to be forgiven. If only it was possible. Please kill me; I don’t deserve to live. That is all I have to say.”
Cato stood and walked over to Isaac. “Mr. Jacobs? It’s over. No one is going to die today.” He reached for the gun and carefully removed it from Issac’s non-responsive fingers. “Let the court decide their fate. After all, you still have to stand before God in judgment. I think you have enough to consider with your own guilt without playing Judge also.”
Isaac’s hands trembled as the hatred began to melt within him. He nodded at Cato, then, suddenly old, sat carefully in a chair and waited for the police to end his hostage situation.
The reporter kneeled beside him. “Isaac? I promise that I will tell your story. I will be a voice for you; I will find a way to help you.”
Isaac smiled gratefully. “Thank you, but my life is over soon enough. For the first time, I now have to worry about my future.”
The End
XXXX
“Mr. Jacobs?”
The gun never wavered. “Yes, Mr. Cato, do you have something to say?”
“Well, I reckon that these two fellows are guilty, just like you said. What can I do to save them the death sentence?”
“Why would you want to spare them?”
“Because all of us have sinned. There isn’t any of us that could pick up a stone and cast it at these two. We are all guilty of the same thing.”
“You have murdered, Mr. Cato? I find that highly improbable.”
“Well, the Bible says, ‘Thou shalt not commit murder,’ but Jesus said that if we hate anyone that we have committed murder in our hearts. I’ll bet that every person in this room has hated someone at some point in their lives, right?” He turned to the crowd, who sat dumbfounded. “What about you, Rose? Who have you hated?”
She spoke deliberately. “The father of my baby.”
“What about you, Miss Kincaid?”
“Well, I hate all men.”
“Fair enough.”
“What about you, Mr. Cato?” Rose asked.
“I spent most of my time hating God.”
Isaac turned around, clearly surprised. “God? I thought you said you were at peace with God.”
“I am now. There was a time in my past that I hated God. A few years ago, I was a fifth generation rancher, right here in Texas. My family had owned the Cato Cattle Company, the 3C Ranch, every since Texas has been a state. They fought Indians and Mexicans to maintain it. Then they fought West Texas weather. My family’s blood and sweat bought and maintained that country. But a few years ago, when the droughts started, I lost everything. I lost my children’s inheritance and I lost the family legacy. I prayed everyday that God would intervene, but He didn’t. I believed in Him up to the day they served me with the foreclosure papers. What I didn’t know was that God was allowing a work of redemption to take place in my heart. You see, I just thought I was a Christian because I went to the Baptist church, but that wasn’t enough. Just like sitting in a garage doesn’t make you a car. I had to find myself at the bottom to find redemption. I had nowhere else to go expect to God.”
“I assume that you have a point, Mr. Cato.”
“Well, sir. It seems to me that we have all committed murder in God’s sight. We are all guilty of breaking His law. We all deserve death, including you, Isaac.”
“That may be, Mr. Cato, but I have lived my entire life expecting to kill these two gentlemen, and I fully intend to do so. Someone will die today.”
“Then I will take their place, just like Jesus took my place. Don’t you see? Jesus made it possible for us to be saved, because He paid the ultimate price for our freedom. I don’t know why God allowed the holocaust to happen. I just know that God was there. Sometimes He doesn’t make sense. Our ways aren’t His ways and our thoughts aren’t His thoughts. I can’t explain why bad things like wars and ethnic cleansing take place, except that we are all sinners, but I can tell you that God will forgive us of our sins. Even the Blitz Brothers. You included, Mr. Jacobs.”
“Oh, it’s much too late for me, Mr. Cato.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, sir. But it will be too late when you die of cancer. You are no better than those two murderers. You have committed the same crime. The only difference is that their crime hurt more people than yours. You are just as guilty as they are. And all of you need God’s forgiveness, just as I did.”
Isaac considered his words for a moment. Was it possible? He had given up on God so many years before, could it be that God hadn’t given up on him? There was so much hatred spilling its venom deep into his soul. Not only had he hated the Germans, he had also hated God, whom he held responsible for the murder of so many devout Jews. “Mr. Cato, where was God during the holocaust? Why did He abandon us to death and destruction?”
“I don’t know. I’m not a theologian. What I do know is this, God was there. It’s hard to imagine, but it is true. It was bad enough as it was, can you imagine what it would have been like without Him? The holocaust wasn’t the first time that the Jews were persecuted. Remember what happened with Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego? They also were burned alive, just not by the Nazis, but by a different regime, the Babylonians. Those three might have lived through it, but how many of their brethren were slaughtered by the Babylonians? What about the Egyptians? They also enslaved the Jews for their own selfish purposes. But God was there for them. I don’t have an answer for you, except that God will never leave you nor forsake you.”
“You make a most persuasive argument, Mr. Cato. Yet, I am not willing that these men should go free. What do you propose?”
“If they are guilty, then I don’t want them to go free either. If they are guilty, then they must stand and give an account of their lives. Even when we ask God for forgiveness, there are still consequences for our actions. Allow the law to bring these men to justice. Isaac, one day soon you will die, then you will face the Throne of Judgment. I am more concerned that when you are brought to justice before God, that you are found innocent. The only way to do that is to repent of your sins and trust in the blood of Jesus and allow Him to forgive you.”
Silence encompassed the group, each of whom sat with their heads bowed deep in thought. The camera continued to record, but the reporter could not bring himself to break the silence. Isaac appeared to be struggling within himself, fighting for control. Yet, Cato’s words had burned deep within his heart, ripping the calluses off his seared conscience. For so many years, one desire consumed him – kill. Cato’s words rang true, vibrating through every tissue, into the core of his being.
Adolph Blitz sighed deeply and almost slumped to the floor, then righted himself and spoke softly. “I’m glad its over.”
David spoke harshly in his native tongue, but Adolph ignored his warning. “No, David, its over. I’m very tired of the nightmares. I want them to end. I’m tired of running.” He looked at Isaac, who still lorded over them, pistol drawn. “Mr. Jacobs, my apology is pitiful compared to my sins, but I still offer it. I was the one who held your wife that night. David shot her. Up to that point, I had not killed or seen anyone killed. But I realized that I was now a part of…. Somehow, I thought that I was serving God. But… I was wrong. I allowed anonymity to conceal my desire to be important, but it only created more thirst for power. Everyday, I remember my actions and everyday I wish to be forgiven. If only it was possible. Please kill me; I don’t deserve to live. That is all I have to say.”
Cato stood and walked over to Isaac. “Mr. Jacobs? It’s over. No one is going to die today.” He reached for the gun and carefully removed it from Issac’s non-responsive fingers. “Let the court decide their fate. After all, you still have to stand before God in judgment. I think you have enough to consider with your own guilt without playing Judge also.”
Isaac’s hands trembled as the hatred began to melt within him. He nodded at Cato, then, suddenly old, sat carefully in a chair and waited for the police to end his hostage situation.
The reporter kneeled beside him. “Isaac? I promise that I will tell your story. I will be a voice for you; I will find a way to help you.”
Isaac smiled gratefully. “Thank you, but my life is over soon enough. For the first time, I now have to worry about my future.”
The End
Monday, February 23, 2009
The Decision Maker Part III
In the previous chapter, Isaac Jacobs was explaining to the world how his life was affected by the Nazis during the years of the communistic ethnic cleansings in Germany. We don’t yet know why Isaac is holding the crowd hostage, but we are about to discover why. Rose has asked for permission to visit the lady’s room, and is there now with Miss Kincaid.
XXX
Rose and Miss Kincaid were washing their hands and preparing to return to the foreboding lobby. As they dried their hands, they both were dreading to leave their sanctuary. “So, how far along are you?”
Rose looked up at the ceiling and tears welled in her eyes. “I am six months along.” Her voice faltered as she spoke.
“Oh dear, what’s the matter? Are you okay?”
“It’s just that, well… I don’t know what to do.” Rose held tissue to her face. “Miss, Kincaid, I…” she stopped speaking and began crying openly.
“Please, call me Marsha. What is it Rose? Is there something wrong with the baby?”
“No, its just that, well, I was raped six months ago. Every single day I think about the baby. Every day I think about, well, I think about…”
Marsha nodded sincerely. “You think about having an abortion, don’t you?”
Rose nodded and started crying again. “Well, you certainly have the right to do so. It is your body and your choice.”
Rose exhaled slowly. “But is it really? My choice?”
“Oh dear, of course it is. Women have suffered and sacrificed all over the world to ensure that you have the freedom to choose.”
“Have you ever?”
“Ever had an abortion?” Marsha stopped a moment and considered her answer. She paused for several seconds before answering her in a subdued voice. “I was fifteen. I was from a small town and it still wasn’t acceptable for unwed mothers to have babies. I was scared and I made a decision.”
“What about your boyfriend?”
“He never knew. I never told him. In fact, I never told anyone, until now.”
“But what if your boyfriend had wanted to keep the baby?”
“It wasn’t his choice, it was mine.”
“But, it was his baby also.”
Marsha shook her head. “No, that’s not right. He wasn’t the one who had to carry it around with him all day. It was my choice alone.”
“But he was the baby’s father.”
“Look, Rose, its not a baby until its born. Until then its only a…”
“Lump of tissue?”
“Yes!”
“Well, this lump of tissue is moving around and has a heart beat. How do I harden my heart enough to follow through with what I want to do?”
“You just remember the women who suffered and sacrificed to give you the choice.”
“And that was enough for you? You never thought about your baby again?”
Marsha hesitated. “Well, I thought about her. I mean, once in a while. But not much.”
“She was a girl?”
Marsha’s face was stone, and she spoke too quickly. “It was tissue. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have killed…” She fell to the floor and sobbed. “Oh my God! I killed my baby!” Rose gathered around her as she mourned the life that never was. After a few minutes, Marsha sat up and leaned into Rose. “I was always reminding myself that I was a strong woman and that I didn’t need anyone or anything. However, at night, I would hear a baby crying, in my dreams that is. I would see a new mother holding her child, smiling and playing. Now it is too late for me.”
Rose shook her head. “No, Marsha, you are still young enough to try again.”
Marsha bowed her head in shame. “No, I can’t. The abortion left me unable to carry a baby. I can’t ever make up for my mistake.”
“Oh, Marsha, I am so sorry.” Together the women cried for a moment. “It was Isaac. He loved his children so much and he was so sorry that his kids were killed. I had decided to go to the clinic today. That is why I was here. I was making a withdraw to pay for the abortion. But he said that only a monster would kill a baby and never give it a chance to live, only for convenience. How selfish would I be to kill my baby just because I didn’t want it?”
Marsha stood up and stretched out her dress. “Well, Rose. You have a chance to make up for the wrong choice I made.” She helped Rose brush off her sweater. “Isaac made a very strong argument, didn’t he?” They walked back to their seats in the lobby and everyone wondered at their red, swollen eyes.
XXXXXXXXXXXXX
Isaac paused his presentation while the women were absent. “Are you ready to continue, Rose?” She nodded yes and the reporter stopped filling in for the down time and prepared to listen. “The day my wife and daughter were killed changed my life forever. I swore an oath to my God that I would find their murderers and bring them to justice. I have to admit, I didn’t hold myself to my oath, because I came to realize that my God never existed. What kind of God would allow the holocaust to occur? Nevertheless, I am committed to stay my course. After many decades of searching, I have finally found my wife’s killers.” He pointed over at the Heinz brothers who were still kneeling on the floor.
Chief Gray pulled off his gag and asked. “Is that true? How can you be certain?”
Isaac nodded. “Finally, you say something that matters.” He walked over to the two old men. “The two killers had a special mark on their shoulders, a tattoo. Not just any tattoo, but the tattoo of the Nazi storm troopers, complete with swastika.” He pulled a knife from his boot and held the knife menacingly at them. Rose gasped as he grabbed their shirts and cut them from their bodies, exposing their backs. Each of them bore the tattoo of the Nazi storm troopers. The cameraman leaned forward and zoomed in on them.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you the two of the three killers of my wife and daughter. One of them held their arms while another shot them. The Blitz Brothers.”
“But they are the Heinz brothers.” Chief Gray interjected.
“When they fled Europe after the Allies destroyed the 3rd Reich, they changed their names and started over. All along, you never knew that there were killers in your midst.”
Cato held up a hand. “You said that there were three. Who is the third?”
Isaac waved a dismissing hand at him. “Don’t concern yourself with that. I found the three of them hiding in Argentina, amongst all the Jewish refugees, trying to blend in with the very people they so hated. When I finally tracked them down, I found Ruben at Pan de Azucar, a small mountain village near Cordoba. After I presented my evidence to the village, they hung him in the tree on the square. That was in ten years ago. David and Adolph fled to the United States and have been in hiding until today.” He turned his attention to the chief. “I understand that you are friends with these killers?” Chief Gray swallowed hard, but couldn’t find an answer. “Don’t worry, Hans Goldbaum, I am not looking for you today.”
“Hans Goldbaum? Who is that?”
Isaac turned to face the question. “Miss Kincaid, that is the real name of Chief Gray. He changed his name when he came to the United States. He was only a boy, but he aided the Germans by trading them information for food and lodging. He was one of the Jews who betrayed my family and our hiding place.”
Chief Gray had nothing to say. His face was ashen and for once, he was unable to speak. He was acutely aware that the TV camera was focused on him.
Cato spoke again, breaking the awkward silence. “So, what do you intend to do?”
“Oh, I intend to bring them to justice. They will meet with the death penalty today.” He walked over to the brothers and held up his pistol. “Do you have any last words?”
The Germans spoke to each other in Spanish and then spoke back to him in German. Issac nodded. “Ah, so you choose to remain the swine you are. Very well, have it your way.” He pointed the gun at David’s head.
To Be Continued...
XXX
Rose and Miss Kincaid were washing their hands and preparing to return to the foreboding lobby. As they dried their hands, they both were dreading to leave their sanctuary. “So, how far along are you?”
Rose looked up at the ceiling and tears welled in her eyes. “I am six months along.” Her voice faltered as she spoke.
“Oh dear, what’s the matter? Are you okay?”
“It’s just that, well… I don’t know what to do.” Rose held tissue to her face. “Miss, Kincaid, I…” she stopped speaking and began crying openly.
“Please, call me Marsha. What is it Rose? Is there something wrong with the baby?”
“No, its just that, well, I was raped six months ago. Every single day I think about the baby. Every day I think about, well, I think about…”
Marsha nodded sincerely. “You think about having an abortion, don’t you?”
Rose nodded and started crying again. “Well, you certainly have the right to do so. It is your body and your choice.”
Rose exhaled slowly. “But is it really? My choice?”
“Oh dear, of course it is. Women have suffered and sacrificed all over the world to ensure that you have the freedom to choose.”
“Have you ever?”
“Ever had an abortion?” Marsha stopped a moment and considered her answer. She paused for several seconds before answering her in a subdued voice. “I was fifteen. I was from a small town and it still wasn’t acceptable for unwed mothers to have babies. I was scared and I made a decision.”
“What about your boyfriend?”
“He never knew. I never told him. In fact, I never told anyone, until now.”
“But what if your boyfriend had wanted to keep the baby?”
“It wasn’t his choice, it was mine.”
“But, it was his baby also.”
Marsha shook her head. “No, that’s not right. He wasn’t the one who had to carry it around with him all day. It was my choice alone.”
“But he was the baby’s father.”
“Look, Rose, its not a baby until its born. Until then its only a…”
“Lump of tissue?”
“Yes!”
“Well, this lump of tissue is moving around and has a heart beat. How do I harden my heart enough to follow through with what I want to do?”
“You just remember the women who suffered and sacrificed to give you the choice.”
“And that was enough for you? You never thought about your baby again?”
Marsha hesitated. “Well, I thought about her. I mean, once in a while. But not much.”
“She was a girl?”
Marsha’s face was stone, and she spoke too quickly. “It was tissue. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have killed…” She fell to the floor and sobbed. “Oh my God! I killed my baby!” Rose gathered around her as she mourned the life that never was. After a few minutes, Marsha sat up and leaned into Rose. “I was always reminding myself that I was a strong woman and that I didn’t need anyone or anything. However, at night, I would hear a baby crying, in my dreams that is. I would see a new mother holding her child, smiling and playing. Now it is too late for me.”
Rose shook her head. “No, Marsha, you are still young enough to try again.”
Marsha bowed her head in shame. “No, I can’t. The abortion left me unable to carry a baby. I can’t ever make up for my mistake.”
“Oh, Marsha, I am so sorry.” Together the women cried for a moment. “It was Isaac. He loved his children so much and he was so sorry that his kids were killed. I had decided to go to the clinic today. That is why I was here. I was making a withdraw to pay for the abortion. But he said that only a monster would kill a baby and never give it a chance to live, only for convenience. How selfish would I be to kill my baby just because I didn’t want it?”
Marsha stood up and stretched out her dress. “Well, Rose. You have a chance to make up for the wrong choice I made.” She helped Rose brush off her sweater. “Isaac made a very strong argument, didn’t he?” They walked back to their seats in the lobby and everyone wondered at their red, swollen eyes.
XXXXXXXXXXXXX
Isaac paused his presentation while the women were absent. “Are you ready to continue, Rose?” She nodded yes and the reporter stopped filling in for the down time and prepared to listen. “The day my wife and daughter were killed changed my life forever. I swore an oath to my God that I would find their murderers and bring them to justice. I have to admit, I didn’t hold myself to my oath, because I came to realize that my God never existed. What kind of God would allow the holocaust to occur? Nevertheless, I am committed to stay my course. After many decades of searching, I have finally found my wife’s killers.” He pointed over at the Heinz brothers who were still kneeling on the floor.
Chief Gray pulled off his gag and asked. “Is that true? How can you be certain?”
Isaac nodded. “Finally, you say something that matters.” He walked over to the two old men. “The two killers had a special mark on their shoulders, a tattoo. Not just any tattoo, but the tattoo of the Nazi storm troopers, complete with swastika.” He pulled a knife from his boot and held the knife menacingly at them. Rose gasped as he grabbed their shirts and cut them from their bodies, exposing their backs. Each of them bore the tattoo of the Nazi storm troopers. The cameraman leaned forward and zoomed in on them.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you the two of the three killers of my wife and daughter. One of them held their arms while another shot them. The Blitz Brothers.”
“But they are the Heinz brothers.” Chief Gray interjected.
“When they fled Europe after the Allies destroyed the 3rd Reich, they changed their names and started over. All along, you never knew that there were killers in your midst.”
Cato held up a hand. “You said that there were three. Who is the third?”
Isaac waved a dismissing hand at him. “Don’t concern yourself with that. I found the three of them hiding in Argentina, amongst all the Jewish refugees, trying to blend in with the very people they so hated. When I finally tracked them down, I found Ruben at Pan de Azucar, a small mountain village near Cordoba. After I presented my evidence to the village, they hung him in the tree on the square. That was in ten years ago. David and Adolph fled to the United States and have been in hiding until today.” He turned his attention to the chief. “I understand that you are friends with these killers?” Chief Gray swallowed hard, but couldn’t find an answer. “Don’t worry, Hans Goldbaum, I am not looking for you today.”
“Hans Goldbaum? Who is that?”
Isaac turned to face the question. “Miss Kincaid, that is the real name of Chief Gray. He changed his name when he came to the United States. He was only a boy, but he aided the Germans by trading them information for food and lodging. He was one of the Jews who betrayed my family and our hiding place.”
Chief Gray had nothing to say. His face was ashen and for once, he was unable to speak. He was acutely aware that the TV camera was focused on him.
Cato spoke again, breaking the awkward silence. “So, what do you intend to do?”
“Oh, I intend to bring them to justice. They will meet with the death penalty today.” He walked over to the brothers and held up his pistol. “Do you have any last words?”
The Germans spoke to each other in Spanish and then spoke back to him in German. Issac nodded. “Ah, so you choose to remain the swine you are. Very well, have it your way.” He pointed the gun at David’s head.
To Be Continued...
Friday, February 20, 2009
The Decision Maker Part II
When last we visited this incident, Isaac Jacobs, an elderly gunman has taken the individuals in a downtown bank hostage. We haven’t discovered what motivates him to carry out such an act, except for one small fact: one hostage will die. Mr. Jacobs had stripped two elderly men down to their “whites” and was inspecting their tattoos while they knelt on the floor. We are now negotiating the terms of the first hostage exchange.
XXXX
He left them kneeling and picked up the phone, dialing Chief Gray. “This is Isaac Jacobs. Here is our situation; I want you to allow one representative of the various media groups to accompany you or your designated officer. If possible, please select a representative from Fox News, as they are the most reputable of those that are available. I might not be a conservative, but I respect integrity in reporting. I want them ready to record our negotiations and document everything that happens. In exchange, I will release half of my hostages. If you or anyone enters this bank with a weapon, I will randomly kill a hostage and the person holding the weapon…. Yes, I will release them as your party approaches the entryway.”
True to his word, Isaac released eleven hostages as the entourage approached the bank. As they exited the building, Chief Gray excitedly motioned for them to run to safety, as if the hostages had no clue what they were supposed to do. The chief stared musingly at the security guard running past him. His pistol had been replaced into his holster. After determining that the former hostages where safe, Chief Gray resumed his march to meet with Isaac Jacobs. When he entered the lobby, he was shocked to see his life long friends, David and Adolph Heinz, nearly naked and kneeling on the floor.
“Please come in, my name is Isaac Jacobs, and these are my hostages. I assume that you are Chief Gray.” He smiled warmly at them and motioned them to stand along the wall with the other hostages. “You gentlemen may set up your equipment over there. Mr. Cato, would you please find some chairs for the rest of our guests?” He watched carefully as Mr. Cato collected chairs from the lobby.
While watching Cato moving the chairs, Chief Gray spoke. “Mr. Jacobs, you have placed us all in a very irregular situation…”
“Chief, please!” Isaac interrupted, exasperation etched on his words. “If you would wait for a moment, I will explain everything once we are all settled.” They waited until everyone was seated, except for Isaac, who paced in front of them as if contemplating his next move. As soon as the news crew was in place, Isaac prepared to continue, but Chief Gray burst out, “Mr. Jacobs, I insist that you surrender immediately. You can’t possibly expect to live through this if you…”
“Chief, please! Are you going to force me to gag you in order for you to maintain your silence?” The hostages glared at the chief in disapproval of his outburst. Isaac had behaved properly and had shown no aggressive tendencies. He had managed to gain their cautious trust for the moment.
He sighed deeply as if troubled to answer the charges put forth by Chief Gray. “For your information, shortly after I committed to my present course of action, I discovered, much to my chagrin, that I have cancer in my lymph nodes. I am afraid that I will die shortly, regardless of our outcome today.
“Now, where was I? Oh yes, at the beginning. What a proper start. I was born in Germany in 1913, shortly before the Great War. My father was killed in action along the Marne River while combating American infantrymen…”
“Surely you can’t hold us personally responsible for actions that took place before the majority of us were born.”
Isaac glanced over at Cato, who nodded and pulled a bandana out of his vest pocket. “Sorry, Chief, but I am afraid that you’re going to get us all killed because you can’t seem to shut up and listen. Now, I don’t intend to tie your hands, but I’m going to gag you. Do us all a favor and listen for a while.” The chief swallowed hard, but submitted to the cowboy. The hostages nodded in approval.
Isaac continued, “No, chief, I do not hold you responsible for my father’s death. My father died protecting his country’s right to be sovereign, however misguided it might have been.” He glanced at the ceiling as he refocused his thoughts. “I married at an early age and had my first child, a girl, in 1930. My wife, Hilda, named her Hydrant. She was the joy of my life and we loved to fly kites together in the park, along with her brothers and sisters. In all, we had five children, Wolfgang, Manfred, William, and Gretchen, in that order. Gretchen was born in 1935, shortly before the 3rd Reich rose to power in Germany.” As he spoke, he glanced over at the Heinz brothers, who were staring at the floor.
“By the time the ethnic cleansings began to take place, it was too late for the Jews to escape to South America, as so many had done in the earlier years. Many of my family members fled Germany just ahead of the Nazis and settled in Argentina, in the mountains near Cordoba. However, I waited, trying to sell my business interests and…” His voice cracked and he wiped a tear from his eyes. “And it cost me everything.”
“Our neighbors, who were Austrians, hid our family for many months, just like the story of Anne Frank. The Nazis conducted a house-to-house search and discovered my family in the basement, hidden among the wines in the cellar. For their efforts at humanity, our neighbors were shot in their own driveway and we were drug away in chains.
“As the storm troopers were dragging my children to a truck waiting nearby, my wife screamed out and grabbed for little Gretchen, who was so…small.” He stopped and blew his nose into a handkerchief. “I’m sorry, some wounds even time can’t heal. Let’s see, where was I? They shot my wife and little Gretchen. My children witnessed their death. Hydrant was so upset that she never spoke again. She would stare into the sky and she refused to eat. Not that they offered to feed her enough to stay alive. She was too small to survive life in the camp; all of them were. After a few months, I…” He stopped and gasped for air, as if he had run a marathon to get here. “I began to pray that God would allow my children to die, so that they might be spared such misery.” He glanced over at the hostages, the women were each clutching tissues. “I was separated from my children, but I could see them across the compound every morning as I reported for work. We could all hear our children as they cried out for us daily. Most of the older girls were to become sex slaves, while the older boys were simply shot or made to work. The younger were used for experiments and as…” his voice drifted and he never finished his thought.
“They made us do meaningless work. We were made to move a mountain of dirt from one side of the compound to the other. The next day, we moved that same pile of dirt to its original site. The next day we repeated the cycle. This went on for months. After a few weeks, Alan Schmidt, an old rabbi, began to cry as he picked up his shovel. He couldn’t stand the de-humanizing task that he was forced to perform daily. He revolted and a guard shot him in the head. A few days latter, several men screamed out and made a mad, hopeless dash for the perimeter fence. They were also gunned down. This went on until the German scientists had observed our reactions enough to try a new experiment.” He stopped talking and looked deep into the camera. “Are you recording?”
The reporter nodded solemnly and replied, “We are live. Every house in America is watching you and listening to your story.”
“Excellent. Allow me to take a moment and reveal that I am working alone; no one is helping me orchestrate this event. Mr. Cato has chosen to help me keep the peace within our prison, but he is acting under my behest. In my custody, along with the chief and our news crew, I have eleven hostages, one of whom is pregnant. She will be released soon enough, along with most of those remaining.” He was silent for a moment as his hopeless eyes revealed that he was reliving a hell from many years past. “I watched my friends die every day. We were shot for eating breakfast. We were shot for not eating breakfast. Nothing could be done to ensure our survival. We were Jews, so they killed us. We were at their mercy.
“Do you remember Schindler’s List? That was a very sad movie for me to watch. I am so glad that those few were spared, but I am sorry that they had to live with the horror that they endured. The movie was accurate, but it was not graphic enough. You couldn’t smell the death that we smelt daily. We had no sanitation. We had no place for garbage. Sometimes, we would watch the scientists performing experiments on the dead before we were allowed to put them in the ovens for burning.
“My children died one by one, slowly starving to death. Those sweet, innocent…” he broke down and wept openly, wailing and mourning with pain unspeakable. “My children never had a chance to live. They were never given a chance to find out who they are. They might have been art lovers, or musicians. They might have been brilliant world leaders. They might have had families all their own and could have held their own children in their arms. Or sing to them as they fell asleep in the evening. Or to make a steaming mug of hot chocolate on a snowy morning…” he stopped to blow his nose. “But they were struck down before they ever had a chance to live. What kind of monster would destroy an innocent life, just for convenience?”
Rose lifted her hand and asked, “Excuse me, Isaac.”
Isaac, who had been speaking as if oblivious to the crowd at hand, seemed to return to the present with her question. “Yes, my dear?”
Rose rubbed her belly apologetically. “I really need to find a bathroom. This little one is keeping me busy.” As she spoke, she rubbed her hand along her belly and seemed to be caressing her baby.
“Of course. Miss Kincaid, could you escort Rose to the lady’s room?”
XXXX
He left them kneeling and picked up the phone, dialing Chief Gray. “This is Isaac Jacobs. Here is our situation; I want you to allow one representative of the various media groups to accompany you or your designated officer. If possible, please select a representative from Fox News, as they are the most reputable of those that are available. I might not be a conservative, but I respect integrity in reporting. I want them ready to record our negotiations and document everything that happens. In exchange, I will release half of my hostages. If you or anyone enters this bank with a weapon, I will randomly kill a hostage and the person holding the weapon…. Yes, I will release them as your party approaches the entryway.”
True to his word, Isaac released eleven hostages as the entourage approached the bank. As they exited the building, Chief Gray excitedly motioned for them to run to safety, as if the hostages had no clue what they were supposed to do. The chief stared musingly at the security guard running past him. His pistol had been replaced into his holster. After determining that the former hostages where safe, Chief Gray resumed his march to meet with Isaac Jacobs. When he entered the lobby, he was shocked to see his life long friends, David and Adolph Heinz, nearly naked and kneeling on the floor.
“Please come in, my name is Isaac Jacobs, and these are my hostages. I assume that you are Chief Gray.” He smiled warmly at them and motioned them to stand along the wall with the other hostages. “You gentlemen may set up your equipment over there. Mr. Cato, would you please find some chairs for the rest of our guests?” He watched carefully as Mr. Cato collected chairs from the lobby.
While watching Cato moving the chairs, Chief Gray spoke. “Mr. Jacobs, you have placed us all in a very irregular situation…”
“Chief, please!” Isaac interrupted, exasperation etched on his words. “If you would wait for a moment, I will explain everything once we are all settled.” They waited until everyone was seated, except for Isaac, who paced in front of them as if contemplating his next move. As soon as the news crew was in place, Isaac prepared to continue, but Chief Gray burst out, “Mr. Jacobs, I insist that you surrender immediately. You can’t possibly expect to live through this if you…”
“Chief, please! Are you going to force me to gag you in order for you to maintain your silence?” The hostages glared at the chief in disapproval of his outburst. Isaac had behaved properly and had shown no aggressive tendencies. He had managed to gain their cautious trust for the moment.
He sighed deeply as if troubled to answer the charges put forth by Chief Gray. “For your information, shortly after I committed to my present course of action, I discovered, much to my chagrin, that I have cancer in my lymph nodes. I am afraid that I will die shortly, regardless of our outcome today.
“Now, where was I? Oh yes, at the beginning. What a proper start. I was born in Germany in 1913, shortly before the Great War. My father was killed in action along the Marne River while combating American infantrymen…”
“Surely you can’t hold us personally responsible for actions that took place before the majority of us were born.”
Isaac glanced over at Cato, who nodded and pulled a bandana out of his vest pocket. “Sorry, Chief, but I am afraid that you’re going to get us all killed because you can’t seem to shut up and listen. Now, I don’t intend to tie your hands, but I’m going to gag you. Do us all a favor and listen for a while.” The chief swallowed hard, but submitted to the cowboy. The hostages nodded in approval.
Isaac continued, “No, chief, I do not hold you responsible for my father’s death. My father died protecting his country’s right to be sovereign, however misguided it might have been.” He glanced at the ceiling as he refocused his thoughts. “I married at an early age and had my first child, a girl, in 1930. My wife, Hilda, named her Hydrant. She was the joy of my life and we loved to fly kites together in the park, along with her brothers and sisters. In all, we had five children, Wolfgang, Manfred, William, and Gretchen, in that order. Gretchen was born in 1935, shortly before the 3rd Reich rose to power in Germany.” As he spoke, he glanced over at the Heinz brothers, who were staring at the floor.
“By the time the ethnic cleansings began to take place, it was too late for the Jews to escape to South America, as so many had done in the earlier years. Many of my family members fled Germany just ahead of the Nazis and settled in Argentina, in the mountains near Cordoba. However, I waited, trying to sell my business interests and…” His voice cracked and he wiped a tear from his eyes. “And it cost me everything.”
“Our neighbors, who were Austrians, hid our family for many months, just like the story of Anne Frank. The Nazis conducted a house-to-house search and discovered my family in the basement, hidden among the wines in the cellar. For their efforts at humanity, our neighbors were shot in their own driveway and we were drug away in chains.
“As the storm troopers were dragging my children to a truck waiting nearby, my wife screamed out and grabbed for little Gretchen, who was so…small.” He stopped and blew his nose into a handkerchief. “I’m sorry, some wounds even time can’t heal. Let’s see, where was I? They shot my wife and little Gretchen. My children witnessed their death. Hydrant was so upset that she never spoke again. She would stare into the sky and she refused to eat. Not that they offered to feed her enough to stay alive. She was too small to survive life in the camp; all of them were. After a few months, I…” He stopped and gasped for air, as if he had run a marathon to get here. “I began to pray that God would allow my children to die, so that they might be spared such misery.” He glanced over at the hostages, the women were each clutching tissues. “I was separated from my children, but I could see them across the compound every morning as I reported for work. We could all hear our children as they cried out for us daily. Most of the older girls were to become sex slaves, while the older boys were simply shot or made to work. The younger were used for experiments and as…” his voice drifted and he never finished his thought.
“They made us do meaningless work. We were made to move a mountain of dirt from one side of the compound to the other. The next day, we moved that same pile of dirt to its original site. The next day we repeated the cycle. This went on for months. After a few weeks, Alan Schmidt, an old rabbi, began to cry as he picked up his shovel. He couldn’t stand the de-humanizing task that he was forced to perform daily. He revolted and a guard shot him in the head. A few days latter, several men screamed out and made a mad, hopeless dash for the perimeter fence. They were also gunned down. This went on until the German scientists had observed our reactions enough to try a new experiment.” He stopped talking and looked deep into the camera. “Are you recording?”
The reporter nodded solemnly and replied, “We are live. Every house in America is watching you and listening to your story.”
“Excellent. Allow me to take a moment and reveal that I am working alone; no one is helping me orchestrate this event. Mr. Cato has chosen to help me keep the peace within our prison, but he is acting under my behest. In my custody, along with the chief and our news crew, I have eleven hostages, one of whom is pregnant. She will be released soon enough, along with most of those remaining.” He was silent for a moment as his hopeless eyes revealed that he was reliving a hell from many years past. “I watched my friends die every day. We were shot for eating breakfast. We were shot for not eating breakfast. Nothing could be done to ensure our survival. We were Jews, so they killed us. We were at their mercy.
“Do you remember Schindler’s List? That was a very sad movie for me to watch. I am so glad that those few were spared, but I am sorry that they had to live with the horror that they endured. The movie was accurate, but it was not graphic enough. You couldn’t smell the death that we smelt daily. We had no sanitation. We had no place for garbage. Sometimes, we would watch the scientists performing experiments on the dead before we were allowed to put them in the ovens for burning.
“My children died one by one, slowly starving to death. Those sweet, innocent…” he broke down and wept openly, wailing and mourning with pain unspeakable. “My children never had a chance to live. They were never given a chance to find out who they are. They might have been art lovers, or musicians. They might have been brilliant world leaders. They might have had families all their own and could have held their own children in their arms. Or sing to them as they fell asleep in the evening. Or to make a steaming mug of hot chocolate on a snowy morning…” he stopped to blow his nose. “But they were struck down before they ever had a chance to live. What kind of monster would destroy an innocent life, just for convenience?”
Rose lifted her hand and asked, “Excuse me, Isaac.”
Isaac, who had been speaking as if oblivious to the crowd at hand, seemed to return to the present with her question. “Yes, my dear?”
Rose rubbed her belly apologetically. “I really need to find a bathroom. This little one is keeping me busy.” As she spoke, she rubbed her hand along her belly and seemed to be caressing her baby.
“Of course. Miss Kincaid, could you escort Rose to the lady’s room?”
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
The Decision Maker Part I
Let us journey to something more pleasant. I want to share with you a story of mine that has been a favorite for many years. It is a story that is very important, and I have a personal connection with an element of the story line. Those of you who have followed me for a while will recognize this tale, and I ask you to bear with me for a while longer, when I will post an undiscovered short story. For now, this story fits within the theme of human life, and how precious it really is. I am posting Part I of this rendering.
In a downtown bank, a gunman steps forward and takes the crowd hostage. The maneuver took a matter of seconds to conclude as he fired a single round into the ceiling, which immediately overwhelmed the stunned and scared security guard lounging by the water cooler in the corner by the vault. An alarm sounded, directly protesting the terrorist act, and the gunman simply pointed to the guard who entered the code necessary to disable the blaring, violent noise.
He demanded that the hysterical crowd remain calm until all of his grievances could be addressed, as if the crowd would immediately return to hysterics once his concerns were settled. After a space of five seconds, the hostages stopped wailing and he had their attention.
“Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Isaac Jacobs and I am not here to rob you, so please don’t do anything rash that will jeopardize you or your neighbor’s safety. You have become unwilling participants in a social experiment. However, after a few minutes of discomfort, I will gladly release you and you will leave unharmed. In a moment, the police will arrive, along with the media. I will address my concerns only after I have everyone’s full attention, as I don’t like to repeat myself more than necessary.
“As I mentioned before, I am not here to take your money or your valuables. I have a specific grievance which will be addressed shortly. Until then, please remain calm and try to make yourselves comfortable.” He walked along the length of the bank counting his hostages. “There are twenty-two of you present, including employees. I intended to act earlier, as the bank doors opened, to minimize the potential number of casualties, but I was delayed in my arrival. I tell you this so that you will be prepared to answer questions of the authorities after I am removed from power. There are twenty-two of you present. Please remember that number. Only twenty-one of you will be leaving, as one of you will die in this incident.”
The crowd began to shift and mummer among themselves as the information of one casualty sunk in. Each prisoner began to wonder who would be the one unlucky victim until a man stepped forward. He was wearing a cowboy hat and appeared to be in his early fifties. “Sir? If I may?” He held up his hand until Isaac noticed him. “I would like to volunteer to be the one hostage to die.” A gasp echoed through the crowd as this man gallantly surrendered his life to the madman. “I mean, I don’t really know these people, but I have lived a happy life and I am at peace with my God. After all, Jesus died for me, I am willing to die for others.”
Isaac nodded to the man. “I am very pleased to have your generous and unsolicited offer. Your character is to be commended. However, I have already selected my prey.” He redirected his attention to the crowd. “I now want all of you to step forward slowly and form a single file line, please stand about three feet apart.”
The first person to stand was a woman who appeared to be fortyish. “I am the bank president, I am responsible for everything that happens here, and I will be the first.” She glanced over at the cowboy as if to tell him that his gallantry was wasted on a liberated woman. A line formed behind her until all stood in an orderly fashion. He examined the crowd and pointed to two elderly gentlemen in the middle. “I would like for the two of you to go last, if you please. That way I can determine how these events will unfold.” He watched as they complied with his orders and took their position at the back of the line. “Very good. Now, I want you to step forward one at a time, beginning with Mrs…. I am sorry, I don’t know your name.”
The bank president glared at him. “Misses Kincaid,” with special emphasis on misses.
“Yes, of course, Miss Kincaid.” He nodded politely to her and addressed the crowd. “What I want you to do is rather unpleasant, but important if I am able to ensure your safety. Please don’t argue with me or misinterpret my intentions. This is simply a matter of safety. Okay now, beginning with Miss Kincaid, I want each of you to step forward and undress down to your delicates and place your clothes on this table.” He touched the top of the table and rapped on it once for good measure.
The crowd balked at such a ridiculous instruction until Isaac waved his gun in their faces. “I want to remind you that, even though I am a gentleman by nature, I am a now a criminal by definition. I do hold a weapon for a specific purpose.”
The cowboy held up his hand. “Sir?”
Isaac immediately recognized him. “Please, what is it?”
“Well, it seems to me that no gentleman would force these women to take off their clothes in front of this crowd or yourself. Not to mention the fact that a gentleman would not take a crowd hostage at gunpoint.”
“Thank you for your observation, Mr.?”
“Cato.”
“Thank you for your observation, Mr. Cato. However, you are at a distinct disadvantage of not realizing my motivations. With time, I will correct that problem. However, for now, I don’t have the means or resources to allow these women the luxury of modesty. I am afraid that you will all have to look away to ensure what privacy that might afford. Now, Miss Kincaid, I am sure that a liberated woman such as you will be the first to step forward and be processed. Unless you prefer Mr. Cato to be first.”
“I am sure that I will manage.” She sighed and stepped forward. She quickly undressed and placed her clothing on the table in front of Isaac.
“If you would please step back until I can examine your clothing to ensure that you don’t hold a weapon.” He picked through her skirt and blouse. Once satisfied that she was unarmed, he instructed her to turn a full circle with her arms outstretched. Isaac never looked at her vulnerable body in a vulgar or lustful manner, but returned her clothing, designating a place for her to stand against a wall, completely segregated from the unsearched crowd. After she was dressed he asked, “I would think that the police would have responded by now. It has been at least five minutes.” As he spoke, the sirens were heard approaching. “Good! Now hurry up, I will be very busy in a moment.” He pointed at Cato, who pulled off his boots and stopped moving.
“Mr. Cato, are you so modest that you risk your own life, or are you simply proud and stubborn?”
Cato shrugged. “Actually, I am just a cowboy. As any other good cowboy, I have a pistol in my belt. I just didn’t want to surprise you and have someone get hurt.”
“Very good, sir. I applaud your thoughtfulness. Please retrieve your weapon and place it on the table and back away until I have recovered it.” Cato did as he was instructed and continued to undress. The crowd silently grinned at him as he revealed his heart covered boxer shorts. He blushed and hurried to the corner to get dressed.
Isaac processed five people without comment until a young woman stepped forward and began to undress. “Just a moment young lady. The police will be calling any second and I must speak with them post haste.” Almost on cue, the phone in the lobby rang and Isaac instructed Mr. Cato to answer. He spoke long enough to identify himself as a hostage and handed the phone to Isaac.
“This is Isaac Jacobs, and I am responsible for the activities taking place. I assure you that no unnecessary harm will come to these hostages. Once the media has fully responded, please return this call and I will discuss our situation. Until then, please rest assured that everything is under control here.” He hung up the phone and addressed the young woman. “Okay, please continue.”
She hesitated and glanced out the window at the activities on the street. Realization came to Isaac and he nodded. “Yes, of course you are right. Mr. Cato, would you please close the blinds and allow us more privacy? I am sure that we don’t want a sniper to shoot into the windows and accidentally kill a hostage. You can rest assured that the media won’t be filming your undressing.”
He gave full attention to the young woman while she undressed. “You are pregnant? How far along are you?”
“Six months tomorrow.” She looked at the floor.
“I am sure that you must be proud. Is it a boy or a girl?”
“I don’t want to know.” She never looked at him while he talked to her.
His eyes acted as if they wanted to dance. “Keeping it a surprise? Well, that was how we did things when my little ones where born. Of course, in the 1930’s we had no choice.” He laughed at his joke and ushered her to the searched wall. He processed ten more hostages until the phone rang again. Mr. Cato walked over and answered after Isaac pointed to him. He politely handed the phone over.
“This is Isaac Jacobs, with whom am I speaking? Okay, Chief Gray, am I right to assume that you have never handled a hostage situation before? Yes, it will be my first time also. However, I have planned this scenario many times and I am fully convinced that no one will be injured unnecessarily, if no one gets careless or anxious…. Yes, I am holding twenty-two hostages…. No one has been injured yet…. I am now conducting a search for weapons. When I am finished, I will call you and we will discuss this situation.” He hung up the phone. “Mr. Cato? Would you please get a chair for this young lady who is pregnant?” He turned to her. “What is your name?”
“Rose.” She spoke softly without looking up.
Cato complied and carried a chair to Rose, and she sat down gratefully. He searched his prisoners until the last two elderly men stood in front of him. When he ordered them to strip down, they balked for a moment, but catching a gleam in his eye, they surrendered to his will. When their task was complete he did not return their clothing. Instead, he made them stand together and ordered them to remove their t-shirts, revealing a tattoo on both of their right shoulders. Isaac instructed them to kneel and approached them from behind. Their tattoos where identical.
To be continued...
The Decision Maker
In a downtown bank, a gunman steps forward and takes the crowd hostage. The maneuver took a matter of seconds to conclude as he fired a single round into the ceiling, which immediately overwhelmed the stunned and scared security guard lounging by the water cooler in the corner by the vault. An alarm sounded, directly protesting the terrorist act, and the gunman simply pointed to the guard who entered the code necessary to disable the blaring, violent noise.
He demanded that the hysterical crowd remain calm until all of his grievances could be addressed, as if the crowd would immediately return to hysterics once his concerns were settled. After a space of five seconds, the hostages stopped wailing and he had their attention.
“Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Isaac Jacobs and I am not here to rob you, so please don’t do anything rash that will jeopardize you or your neighbor’s safety. You have become unwilling participants in a social experiment. However, after a few minutes of discomfort, I will gladly release you and you will leave unharmed. In a moment, the police will arrive, along with the media. I will address my concerns only after I have everyone’s full attention, as I don’t like to repeat myself more than necessary.
“As I mentioned before, I am not here to take your money or your valuables. I have a specific grievance which will be addressed shortly. Until then, please remain calm and try to make yourselves comfortable.” He walked along the length of the bank counting his hostages. “There are twenty-two of you present, including employees. I intended to act earlier, as the bank doors opened, to minimize the potential number of casualties, but I was delayed in my arrival. I tell you this so that you will be prepared to answer questions of the authorities after I am removed from power. There are twenty-two of you present. Please remember that number. Only twenty-one of you will be leaving, as one of you will die in this incident.”
The crowd began to shift and mummer among themselves as the information of one casualty sunk in. Each prisoner began to wonder who would be the one unlucky victim until a man stepped forward. He was wearing a cowboy hat and appeared to be in his early fifties. “Sir? If I may?” He held up his hand until Isaac noticed him. “I would like to volunteer to be the one hostage to die.” A gasp echoed through the crowd as this man gallantly surrendered his life to the madman. “I mean, I don’t really know these people, but I have lived a happy life and I am at peace with my God. After all, Jesus died for me, I am willing to die for others.”
Isaac nodded to the man. “I am very pleased to have your generous and unsolicited offer. Your character is to be commended. However, I have already selected my prey.” He redirected his attention to the crowd. “I now want all of you to step forward slowly and form a single file line, please stand about three feet apart.”
The first person to stand was a woman who appeared to be fortyish. “I am the bank president, I am responsible for everything that happens here, and I will be the first.” She glanced over at the cowboy as if to tell him that his gallantry was wasted on a liberated woman. A line formed behind her until all stood in an orderly fashion. He examined the crowd and pointed to two elderly gentlemen in the middle. “I would like for the two of you to go last, if you please. That way I can determine how these events will unfold.” He watched as they complied with his orders and took their position at the back of the line. “Very good. Now, I want you to step forward one at a time, beginning with Mrs…. I am sorry, I don’t know your name.”
The bank president glared at him. “Misses Kincaid,” with special emphasis on misses.
“Yes, of course, Miss Kincaid.” He nodded politely to her and addressed the crowd. “What I want you to do is rather unpleasant, but important if I am able to ensure your safety. Please don’t argue with me or misinterpret my intentions. This is simply a matter of safety. Okay now, beginning with Miss Kincaid, I want each of you to step forward and undress down to your delicates and place your clothes on this table.” He touched the top of the table and rapped on it once for good measure.
The crowd balked at such a ridiculous instruction until Isaac waved his gun in their faces. “I want to remind you that, even though I am a gentleman by nature, I am a now a criminal by definition. I do hold a weapon for a specific purpose.”
The cowboy held up his hand. “Sir?”
Isaac immediately recognized him. “Please, what is it?”
“Well, it seems to me that no gentleman would force these women to take off their clothes in front of this crowd or yourself. Not to mention the fact that a gentleman would not take a crowd hostage at gunpoint.”
“Thank you for your observation, Mr.?”
“Cato.”
“Thank you for your observation, Mr. Cato. However, you are at a distinct disadvantage of not realizing my motivations. With time, I will correct that problem. However, for now, I don’t have the means or resources to allow these women the luxury of modesty. I am afraid that you will all have to look away to ensure what privacy that might afford. Now, Miss Kincaid, I am sure that a liberated woman such as you will be the first to step forward and be processed. Unless you prefer Mr. Cato to be first.”
“I am sure that I will manage.” She sighed and stepped forward. She quickly undressed and placed her clothing on the table in front of Isaac.
“If you would please step back until I can examine your clothing to ensure that you don’t hold a weapon.” He picked through her skirt and blouse. Once satisfied that she was unarmed, he instructed her to turn a full circle with her arms outstretched. Isaac never looked at her vulnerable body in a vulgar or lustful manner, but returned her clothing, designating a place for her to stand against a wall, completely segregated from the unsearched crowd. After she was dressed he asked, “I would think that the police would have responded by now. It has been at least five minutes.” As he spoke, the sirens were heard approaching. “Good! Now hurry up, I will be very busy in a moment.” He pointed at Cato, who pulled off his boots and stopped moving.
“Mr. Cato, are you so modest that you risk your own life, or are you simply proud and stubborn?”
Cato shrugged. “Actually, I am just a cowboy. As any other good cowboy, I have a pistol in my belt. I just didn’t want to surprise you and have someone get hurt.”
“Very good, sir. I applaud your thoughtfulness. Please retrieve your weapon and place it on the table and back away until I have recovered it.” Cato did as he was instructed and continued to undress. The crowd silently grinned at him as he revealed his heart covered boxer shorts. He blushed and hurried to the corner to get dressed.
Isaac processed five people without comment until a young woman stepped forward and began to undress. “Just a moment young lady. The police will be calling any second and I must speak with them post haste.” Almost on cue, the phone in the lobby rang and Isaac instructed Mr. Cato to answer. He spoke long enough to identify himself as a hostage and handed the phone to Isaac.
“This is Isaac Jacobs, and I am responsible for the activities taking place. I assure you that no unnecessary harm will come to these hostages. Once the media has fully responded, please return this call and I will discuss our situation. Until then, please rest assured that everything is under control here.” He hung up the phone and addressed the young woman. “Okay, please continue.”
She hesitated and glanced out the window at the activities on the street. Realization came to Isaac and he nodded. “Yes, of course you are right. Mr. Cato, would you please close the blinds and allow us more privacy? I am sure that we don’t want a sniper to shoot into the windows and accidentally kill a hostage. You can rest assured that the media won’t be filming your undressing.”
He gave full attention to the young woman while she undressed. “You are pregnant? How far along are you?”
“Six months tomorrow.” She looked at the floor.
“I am sure that you must be proud. Is it a boy or a girl?”
“I don’t want to know.” She never looked at him while he talked to her.
His eyes acted as if they wanted to dance. “Keeping it a surprise? Well, that was how we did things when my little ones where born. Of course, in the 1930’s we had no choice.” He laughed at his joke and ushered her to the searched wall. He processed ten more hostages until the phone rang again. Mr. Cato walked over and answered after Isaac pointed to him. He politely handed the phone over.
“This is Isaac Jacobs, with whom am I speaking? Okay, Chief Gray, am I right to assume that you have never handled a hostage situation before? Yes, it will be my first time also. However, I have planned this scenario many times and I am fully convinced that no one will be injured unnecessarily, if no one gets careless or anxious…. Yes, I am holding twenty-two hostages…. No one has been injured yet…. I am now conducting a search for weapons. When I am finished, I will call you and we will discuss this situation.” He hung up the phone. “Mr. Cato? Would you please get a chair for this young lady who is pregnant?” He turned to her. “What is your name?”
“Rose.” She spoke softly without looking up.
Cato complied and carried a chair to Rose, and she sat down gratefully. He searched his prisoners until the last two elderly men stood in front of him. When he ordered them to strip down, they balked for a moment, but catching a gleam in his eye, they surrendered to his will. When their task was complete he did not return their clothing. Instead, he made them stand together and ordered them to remove their t-shirts, revealing a tattoo on both of their right shoulders. Isaac instructed them to kneel and approached them from behind. Their tattoos where identical.
To be continued...
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