Screwtape 20/20: "The Gates of Hell"

By Ken Zulkosky

Why is this world so broken and lost? Why does wrong often seem right? What are the origins of evil, and how do they intersect our day-to-day lives? This book starts at the gates of hell, as recorded in Matthew 16:18, and works its way into our living rooms.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Nov 24, 2015
• ISBN: 9781512720778

Ken Zulkosky

Ken Zulkosky has been working with teens and young adults as well as their families, both inside and outside the church, for twenty nine years. His book will inspire and challenge you in your day-to-day battle against unseen forces in the heavenly realms.

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Copyright © 2015 Ken Zulkosky.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Scripture taken from the Holy Bible, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by Biblica, Inc. All rights reserved worldwide. Used by permission. NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION® and NIV® are registered trademarks of Biblica, Inc. Use of either trademark for the offering of goods or services requires the prior written consent of Biblica US, Inc.

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ISBN: 978-1-5127-2076-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5127-2078-5 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5127-2077-8 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015919082

WestBow Press rev. date: 11/20/2015

Contents

Acknowledgements

Preface

Chapter 1 The Summons

Chapter 2 The Thought

Chapter 3 Banias

Chapter 4 Distractions

Chapter 5 The Gates of Hell

Chapter 6 Temporary Savior

Chapter 7 Light

Chapter 8 Readings

Chapter 9

Chapter 10 Pan-dora’s Box

Chapter 11 Friend?

Chapter 12

Chapter 13 Nesili

Chapter 14 The Dash

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17 The Dock

Chapter 18 Speechless

Chapter 19 Champions

Chapter 20 Now what?

Chapter 21

Chapter 22 The Game

Chapter 23 Celebration

Chapter 24

Chapter 25 Saved

Chapter 26 Penalty box

Chapter 27 The Unveiling

Chapter 28 Second Chance

Chapter 29 Wilderness

Chapter 30

Chapter 31 Reunion

Chapter 32 Setting Out

Chapter 33 Backup

Chapter 34 The Offer

Chapter 35 Transcriptions

Chapter 36

Chapter 37 Testimony

Chapter 38 Trust

Chapter 39 Meeting

Chapter 40 The Portage

Chapter 41 The Standoff

Chapter 42 The Truth

Chapter 43 Dad?

Chapter 44 The Bait

Chapter 45

Chapter 46 Conclusions

Chapter 47 The Rollercoaster

Chapter 48 Idol Factory

Chapter 49 Intruder

Chapter 50 The Guide

Chapter 51 Solo

Chapter 52 Battle Plans

Chapter 53 Shelter

Chapter 54 Attack

Chapter 55 The Wait

Chapter 56 Worlds Collide

Chapter 57 The First Step

Chapter 58 Intervention

Chapter 59 Homeward Bound

Chapter 60 New Direction

Book 2 A Better Sacrifice

Chapter 1 A Mother’s Anguish

Notes

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Thanks to my brother Joe along with Sara O’brien, Rob Nearing,

Cathy Baribeault and Kylie Triola for their

encouragement and help with this book!

Thanks also to family friend and English teacher Jack Streed for

introducing me to C.S. Lewis’s writings over thirty years ago!

Illustrations by my lovely daughter Abby Zulkosky

PREFACE

Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand.

Eph. 6:10-13

One of the reasons for writing this book is in my hope to reintroduce an amazing book to a new generation. That book is, of course, C.S. Lewis’s The Screwtape Letters. I want to give due credit to it for the inspiration of this story. The second reason is to make people aware of Satan’s deceptive tactics aimed at destroying our lives. By doing so, I also hope to encourage readers to stand firm in their faith, so that they will be able to say what the Apostle Paul wrote in 2 Timothy 4:7: I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. I pray that this book is helpful to you in that battle.

C.S. Lewis once reminded his readers that: There are two equal and opposite errors into which our race can fall about the devils. One is to disbelieve in their existence. The other is to believe, and to feel an excessive and unhealthy interest in them.

Please note that the quotes from The Screwtape Letters are written from the perspective of one demon to another. Remember, demons, like their leader, are prone to lie or exaggerate. With that said, however, there are times that we can learn from their discourse and benefit just as one army benefits from intercepted correspondences of another.

CHAPTER 1

The Summons

I do not think you will have much difficulty in keeping the patient in the dark. The fact that devils are predominantly comic figures in the modern imagination will help you. If any faint suspicion of your existence begins to arise in his mind, suggest to him a picture of something in red tights, and persuade him that since he cannot believe in that (it is an old textbook method of confusing them) he therefore cannot believe in you.

C.S. Lewis The Screwtape Letters

Simon Abramson squinted into the bright Middle Eastern sun. He was wondering why he had been summoned to this barren place at this unexpected time. Out of the blue, he had received an express letter from an old army companion who had continued in Israeli intelligence when he, Simon, had moved on to civilian work in archeology so many years ago. And why on earth had they sent a transport to pick him up to bring him here—to the lowest part of the Earth.

It was late April, and the heat was already showing its formidable side. It was like that down here at the southern end of the Dead Sea. Although he had traveled in this area on occasion, he had never spent any time here in what he did best, archeology-site digging. And why should he have come here digging, unless he was searching for the now-lost Sodom and Gomorrah. For it seemed that not much throughout the history of mankind had occurred in this God forsaken land, or at least nothing known to the history books.

As he stepped out of the army personnel carrier, he instinctively reached for his sunglasses in his top left pocket. He was wishing that he had had the foresight to carry a bottle of water. Glancing to his left, he saw what he presumed was Mount Sodom, and to his right, the vast arid desert that surrounded the Dead Sea. Like all Israelis, he knew his history; but unlike most, he knew details. He had done his undergraduate work at the Institute of Archaeology at the Hebrew University in Jerusalem and graduate work at Stanford University in the United States. That was twenty four years ago. Since then, he had been one of the lead archeologists on the City of David project, which undertook the excavating of the ancient king’s city underneath the present day Jerusalem. While there, he and others had mapped out Hezekiah’s tunnel and Warren’s shaft and made many amazing discoveries corroborating Biblical history.

His biggest find was an accident of sorts. While taking a breather from the tunnels near the Gihon spring, he had heard something that caught his attention. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, just a backhoe or caterpillar that was digging a short ways south of his location. But something about the sound of the scraping of the blade made him perk up. Just out of sight, but within the smell of the diesel engine, there was a steel-on-rock war being waged. It sounded like the rock was winning, but the steel and driver had other plans. Simon shrugged his shoulders and thought to himself that it was worth investigating. After crossing to the sidewalk and moving downhill, he had spied the machine and driver. It was about then that the hair on the back of his neck stood up. Something wasn’t right. There shouldn’t be a flat stone in that area, perhaps bedrock, but not a flat stone. He had walked over, just out of the reach of the engaged claw of the machine and scanned the area. It was then that he saw it, or more accurately, he saw them-stairs. It didn’t take long for alarms to go off in his brain, and he had practically jumped up to the cab of the earthen machine while screaming for the operator of the vehicle to stop digging.

That had been several years back. After careful excavation and hard work, the Pool of Siloam had emerged from the earth for the first time in many centuries. It was the place where Jewish pilgrims had come first, on their way into the city, to ceremonially cleanse themselves from their travels before they made their way uphill to the Temple. It was now a tourist site and visited by thousands of modern day pilgrims. Simon’s discovery had propelled his name to the top of many archeological digests and even to the New York Times. His work on the City of David hadn’t hurt either. But now, here he stood in a barren desert, wondering why he had been summoned in the first place.

He was thinking these things over when a corporal motioned him to follow. Simon didn’t know it, but the corporal was leading him into a hidden bunker. Funny, he hadn’t even seen its outline in the ground until he gazed ahead of the man and guessed where he was aiming. After a downward flight of twenty or so stairs, then walking past two sets of security guards and three secure doors, he found himself putting his sunglasses away. He marveled at this new manmade fortress and wondering what it would be like to ‘discover’ it twenty plus centuries in the future.

Before his eyes had fully adjusted, he heard a familiar voice call out, Simon. Then after a pause, And how are things for my old friend? Your fame proceeds you! It was his old army buddy, Jonathan Gould, who had sent for him. Although he hadn’t seen Jonathan in over twenty years, there was still a faint recognition of his frame and face. He was taller than most Israelis at six foot five; and, his dark, thick hair was now grey. He was still a formidable man, and one whom you wanted near you on the battle line.

Simon was speechless. That didn’t stop Jonathan from embracing his old friend and giving him a detailed look-over.

How has so much time gone by in such a small country, and our paths have never crossed in what-eighteen or twenty years? asked Jonathan. Simon had to admit, that was strange. Israel boasted a population of just over eight million yet was only around eight thousand square miles in land. That, of course, was debated by the Palestinians, and much of the world, but not by the Israelis. They knew the boundaries that God had granted them, and they would fight to the death to control as much of that land as possible.

Jonathan, it really is you, isn’t it? You haven’t changed a bit in all these years, except maybe a touch more snow on the crown, eh? Simon said with a smile. He had always appreciated Jonathan’s good nature and ability to laugh in good times and bad. But now that Jonathan had mentioned it, Simon was still pondering how it was possible that their paths hadn’t crossed. Maybe Jonathan had spent most of his time down this hole in the ground?

Are you thirsty? an astute Jonathan asked him, as he also motioned to one of his men nearby. You must excuse me in that, if it were possible, I would have met you at the Hyatt or Eucalyptus; but they don’t let me wander too far from here I am afraid.

What is this place, if you don’t mind me asking? replied Simon, his curiosity now piqued. It smelled of military, but also of permanence, like there was age here and stability. His eyes were just now getting accustomed to the unnatural light; and the more he saw, the more he wondered. There were five or six workstations all manned with one or two military Intel personnel. Some of those wore headphones, and several stationed at the screens were women, which wasn’t anything unique for the Israeli army.

We perform many functions, though I am not at liberty to discuss them all, replied Jonathan with a quick flash of a smile. Primarily, we are monitoring all of southern Israel for incursions, whether from tank or vehicle, and even those on foot. He said this as his eyes pointed in the direction of a certain work station and satellite chart. But there is more here than meets the eye, he continued, as he looked towards a work station with three people. In front of them was a large lit-up map that they intently focused on. That is why I have called you here, my friend!

Simon’s curiosity certainly was on full alert now, though he didn’t have a clue as to how he and his archeological background could help. Had they found a lost city or roadway or stela?

As if he had been guessing Simon’s mind, Jonathan piped in, You are, no doubt, wondering why we called you here; and I will explain shortly, but, first, accept this drink and tell me how the excavation goes in David’s city. I hear it is a marvel to see!

So Simon spent the next thirty minutes or so sharing some of the amazing treasures and insights that he and others had been uncovering. He also explained the grand plan for an underground movie screen which would show visitors what the city had likely looked like in King David’s time. They talked as they moved their way down a hallway and into a side conference room that lit as they entered. It was easy for Simon to share his experiences, as he seemed to say many of the same things each day to tour groups or reporters. All the while though, he was starting to formulate many questions that he would like to ask, depending on the direction that Jonathan would take in explaining why he had called Simon to this no-man’s-land. What he was about to hear was nothing that he had expected nor could ever imagine.

CHAPTER 2

The Thought

There is nothing like suspense and anxiety for barricading a human’s mind against the Enemy. He wants men to be concerned with what they do; our business is to keep them thinking about what will happen to them.

C.S. Lewis The Screwtape Letters

Ava caught herself just as she was about to nod off. It was seventh period, and, being just after lunch, she always had a rough time staying awake in Social Studies. Mr. Carr was a good teacher and was very engaging, but the warm sun beaming in through the large windows on her right side just put her in the mood for a nap. The topic was Apartheid in South Africa, and although she really did care about Nelson Mandela and the peoples of South Africa, it just seemed so removed from real life that she was trying all she could to stay on task. But then she had a thought, Maybe Apartheid wasn’t so different than eighth grade after all. Her mind moved to the lunch period that she had just experienced. She had not been the ‘victim,’ but another girl in a similar situation had been targeted by ‘them’. That girl’s name was Amanda, and all it took for her to cross the line was sitting at the wrong lunch table.

It always intrigued and scared her to know that she might be next. Staying under the radar was always the goal, but not always possible. The ‘them’ were a group of ‘in’ girls who made it a point to show the rest of the world that they were ‘in’ and that the rest were in-ferior. They sat nearest the windows in the cafeteria and watched with intensity the politics of middle school life play out before them. If it wasn’t going in a direction that they favored, they stepped in and changed things at the expense of whoever was in their way. This group of the ‘in’ girls had escorted their victim, Amanda, out of the lunch room and one of them jumped on Amanda and threw her to the ground. By the time the teachers had intervened, Amanda had learned her lesson.

Ava did her very best never to look them in the eye and never to step in a direction that would cause them to focus on her. Still, it wasn’t easy at a small school like Laurens Central School. The average number of students in each grade ranged from twenty-four to forty-nine students. Those weren’t numbers that made hiding easy. So Ava had to be careful what she said and did, especially around certain people.

As the school day came to a close, she breathed a sigh of relief. Unfortunately, there was no guarantee that going home was going to be any easier. Luckily, she lived close enough to the school to walk. It was only about six blocks or so to her home. They weren’t real city blocks, not in this small town, but they were her only refuge from an up-to-this-point ugly world. It didn’t hurt that she didn’t have to try to fit in on a school bus either. Busses were notorious for pecking orders. If fact, if you put some chicken wire around one, you might mistake it for a coop.

As Ava shouldered her thirty-some pound backpack and made her way out of the school and across the back parking lot, she had the same mixed emotions that went through her mind every day. Freedom from them but bondage to a home in despair. She turned right up Brooks Street to Balantic Hill Road and finally to Factory Grounds Road. Then she crossed the school sports fields to where she lived. Laurens was not a prosperous town by any means. No Starbucks, nor Walmarts, nor jobs for that matter. Just one gas station and one part-time pizza joint. The New York State government was kind enough to tax its people with the highest rates in the country while at the same time scaring away almost every business it could. Some asked if the recession had hit here in ‘07 as it had around the country, and people just looked puzzled. They said that they hadn’t seen any difference that they could notice.

As Ava approached her light-green house with its cracked, peeling paint and broken, taped windows, she took a good gulp of air and plunged in. It was unlocked, as it always was. Her mother had said that burglars could get in even if it were locked up, so there was no reason to lock it. Ava knew that burglars probably wouldn’t even take a second glance at the place.

She unshouldered her load and reached for the light switch, hoping the electric bill had been paid this week, and the lights would actually work. It wasn’t that her mother wasn’t a hard worker; it was just that her father wasn’t a real father nor a man for that matter. He had never matured past sixth grade in life, and therefore, never took any responsibilities seriously. Ava had only met him twice, and both meetings were by chance and not design. Once had been at the Otsego County fair in Morris. Her father had apparently gotten a temporary job while the fair was in town and was in the ticket booth collecting money. She hadn’t even known it was her father, until her mother had told her after they had already been let in. Since there was no indication from her mother, Ava hadn’t taken a good look at what the man looked like. He wasn’t there when they left three hours later, and Ava was upset that her opportunity had passed. Her second chance came as this young man showed up at the door one day asking for her mother and hinting that he was in need of money to pay his car insurance. Again, he hadn’t introduced himself or taken an interest in her, but only focused on his own needs.

And so, back at home Ava was feeling quite alone. The lights did come on, and that helped her to know that she would probably make it through the night without too much distress. Her mother worked as a custodian at the school, and so their hours were pretty much opposite each other. She was a loving mother and would give anything she had to see Ava succeed. The only problem was that she had so little to give in the first place.

So it was on this particular day at the end of April that Ava found herself home from school and going through her daily routine. She didn’t really know why there was a routine, but she only knew that it felt satisfying to have some sort of order to her life. Step one, dishes in the sink from breakfast needed to be cleaned. It was a small task, since it was only her own dishes from the morning and her mother’s from her four A.M. lunch break. Step two, homework. Mr. Carr had given a reading assignment and questions, as had her math teacher Mrs. Camilari. Ava’s only back up system in life was a dedicated and loving group of teachers who knew a bit of her background and did what they could to bring some stability into her life.

She finished step two by four-thirty. That now left five hours of ‘alone’ time for her to deal with. There wasn’t a TV or computer in the house. There were no friendly next-door neighbors or relatives close by for that matter. All she could think to do for the rest of the evening was to scrounge around the house looking for something that she could call dinner.

That is where it found her. Just like yesterday. What ‘it’ was, she hadn’t a clue. It felt like some kind of a depressive gloom had entered the room and was right now settling into