He looked at us a moment. It must have been an incredible sight, the two of us lying on our sleeping bags, too weak to even move. But he didn’t say anything. In fact, he didn’t react at all. He didn’t rush to Barzee’s side, or jump around to get us something to eat. He didn’t offer to bring us any water. He didn’t even ask us how we were. Instead, he kind of smiled proudly. “I was walking through Lakeside when I passed the local KFC. They were throwing out their leftovers for the day. I asked if I could have them for my starving wife and daughter.” He pulled out macaroni and cheese, chicken, a couple of biscuits, coleslaw, and potato wedges. I rolled onto my knees and reached out for the food, guiding a couple pieces to my mouth with shaking hands. I had thought that I could eat the entire bag, but after a few bites I started feeling stuffed. Another bite and I started feeling sick. Realizing it was going to take a while for my body to adjust, I quit trying to eat and lay back on my mat.
“Where have you been?” Barzee asked in anger. Her voice was dry and accusing.
Mitchell smiled as if he didn’t have a care in the world and started to tell his tale.
*
The first thing he did upon getting to Lakeside was go into the convenience store to steal some beer. After gulping a couple of Budweisers in the aisle, he walked out of the store and saw a woman pushing a shopping cart while popping a few pills. “Ah,” he thought, “the next step I must take in my quest to descend below all things.” He went up to the woman and asked her for some of her pills. She refused, of course, so he grabbed her cart and started running. After getting away from her, he opened her purse and grabbed the prescription medication. Popping some into his mouth, he abandoned the stolen loot then turned and ran, the lady in hot pursuit. He jumped over a fence and kept on running. The drugs and beer, a really bad combination, started to kick in and he was getting wobbly. Soon after, he came to a church, the perfect place to spend the night. But all of the doors were locked. That wasn’t right! He was the prophet of the Lord! And the church was nothing but an abomination, with evil people who went inside. Who were they to deny him access to his Father’s house? So he found a brick and broke the window, then crawled inside and fell unconscious on the floor.
And that’s where the police had found him.
He didn’t remember a lot about being booked into jail other than the fact that he was able to flash a female officer from underneath his robe. He was really proud of that.
Seven days later, having given the police a fake name, and having told the judge that he had been clean for twenty years and how sorry he was that he had fallen off the wagon, and that, of course, he was willing to pay for the damages and do loads of community service, but that all he wanted now was to get back to his family, the judge had let him go.
He hung around the city for the rest of the day, then made his way back to camp.
“For seven days, you left us!” Barzee hissed like a snake. “Seven days without so much as a single scrap to eat.”
“I thought you’d go down to Lakeside and get something,” Mitchell answered without regret.
“For seven days, you were in jail. You got three square meals a day. We had nothing! You had a real bed with a pillow and soft blankets. We had this!” She lifted a finger to the gray tarps and the dirty bedding around us. “You had hot showers and a television and books and anything else you could desire. We had nothing! We had nothing! You left us here to die!”
Mitchell shook his head. “It was the Lord who called me to prison. I had seven days of preaching to the inmates, seven days of crying repentance to the sinful. All I did was serve the Lord.”
Barzee lay back on her sleeping bag and closed her eyes.
I was about to point out that no one in the jail had been converted but decided there was no point in stirring things up.
A few moments passed. It appeared that Barzee was already asleep. Mitchell and I were alone together and I stared into his eyes. He looked at me and held my stare, refusing to look away. My unspoken words were very clear.
You tried to kill me. But you didn’t. For all of your talk of being a mighty prophet, I am stronger than you are. One day, you’re going to know that. One day, you’re going to see.
The battle between us lasted only a few seconds. Then, for the first time since he had slipped into my bedroom, Mitchell was the first one to look away.
34.
Manipulating Mitchell
Mitchell was always driven by events. There was never a simple coincidence, nor did things ever happen just by chance. Everything that happed had to be a sign from God.