“For your penance, my son, I cannot imagine there are enough Hail Marys that can be said. You must find a way to make reparations, to cleanse yourself of these thoughts and continue down a different path that will end this quest without more killing. Turn yourself into the police, and all will not be lost. Please, I beg of you, do these things and…”
The man started on his Act of Contrition, as if he’d heard nothing the priest had said. “O my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee, and I detest all my sins because of Thy just punishments. But most of all because they offend Thee, my God, who art all good and deserving of all my love. I firmly resolve, with the help of Thy grace, to sin no more and avoid the near occasions of sin. Amen.”
Father Xavier couldn’t help it, the words came before he could stop himself. “Ego te absolvo a peccatis tuis in nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. I absolve you of your sins in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.”
The man replied, “Amen.”
“Give thanks to the Lord, for He is good.”
“His mercy endures forever.”
“In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti, my son.”
He heard the man stand and open the door. He jumped to his feet; though the confession was traditionally an anonymous process, he felt he must see the man. He needed to see what the face of evil looked like.
By the time he opened the confessional door, he only caught a glimpse of the man’s back, retreating so quickly from the room that he was a blur.
Father Xavier sat down hard on the seat of the confessional. He heard a rumble of thunder, as if the heavens were displeased.
“Oh dear God, what have I done?”
He got up and rushed to his office. He needed to pray and consult with the Bishop. Perhaps he could find a way to break the seal of confession; surely it would be allowed if it meant saving lives. He put on a pot of tea and sat in his most comfortable chair, thinking hard. He had no way to identify the man who had just left. He’d never seen his face, only heard his sinister, low voice.
He could hear the storm raging and looked out the window. The wind had picked up, thunder was roaring closer, and lightning began flashing every few seconds. He took it as a sign. He needed to talk with the Bishop immediately.
He reached toward the desk to pick up the phone. The lights went out in the Church. He managed to fumble and grasp the phone receiver, but there was no dial tone. The storm had knocked out the electricity and the phones. He was left to sit in the darkness and pray for guidance. He started to do so with fervor.
Thirty-Five
The rain came down hard enough to leach in through the windowsill. Droplets formed a tiny river, slipping down the wall to puddle on the shiny hardwood floor. Jill lay on her right side, watching the progression. She figured it had been pouring for hours now. Wave after wave of thunder and lightning had been rocking the small room. At one point, she thought she heard tornado sirens blast.
She wasn’t sure how long she had been locked in the room. She remembered very little of what had happened over the past few days. At least she thought it had been a few days. She’d studied sensory deprivation in a psychology class and figured her perceptions could be completely off the mark. The continuous rain wasn’t helping. She knew for a fact she’d eaten three meals: two cheese omelets and one hurried bowl of macaroni and cheese. The urge to sleep had overtaken her before the meals were finished. When she woke each time, the food had been cleared away, only a glass of water left behind. She was glad of the emptiness; she was feeling sick to her stomach.
Standing shakily, she tried to get her bearings. She went to the window, but the shades were permanently drawn within the windows. Double glass, no cord. She wandered to the door, but it too was locked, just like it had been the past fifteen times she’d tried. The only other furnishings in the room were the double bed she had been rumpling, a bedside table, and a small lamp giving off the dimmest glow.
There were no noises except the vicious storm. She jumped as another flash of lightning hit, close enough to make her hair stand on end. The meager light from the lamp was extinguished. The electricity had gone off. Backlit by the violent flashes, she made her way back to the bed.