The Prophet

By Mark F Geatches

Chattanooga super preacher Billy Curtis' prophesies always come to pass. He has gained world-wide notoriety because his visions portend death. After years of adoration, Billy is about to get a different type of attention when a new detective joins the local police force: Scrutiny. The atheist officer soon suspects Billy and Richard Myers, who acts as his chauffeur, personal bodyguard, and security expert, are themselves responsible, not for innocently foretelling tragic events, but for committing actual murder and makes it his mission to bring them to justice.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mark F Geatches
• Release date: Dec 17, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215600993

Mark F Geatches

Mark began writing on an old algae-encrusted backyard hammock. He was already in his mid-forties and the thought of becoming an author had never crossed his mind before that moment. Many believe the thought has still never occurred to him. His zany imagination and utter laziness prodded him toward fiction, where although he has five published books, his apparent lack of talent enables him to enjoy absolute obscurity to this day. Mark’s second passion is music. He attended Florida State university sometime during the late 1800’s, receiving a Master Degree in Trumpet Performance. He performed professionally for five years before entering the business world. Nowadays, Mark finds listening to music while writing the nexus of focus and inspiration. Mark loves God, beer, and his many two and four legged pets.

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PART ONE

Chapter 1 - Nine Years Ago

Michael’s eyes are closed and his respiration comes in deep, regular breaths as he sleeps alone in his bedroom. It is the rest of an uncluttered and innocent mind; the sleep of youth. The room’s window is open inviting in an unseasonably cool breeze. The plastic mini blinds dance and gently tap the window frame in irregular rhythm.

A man wearing faded black jeans, a well-worn hunting camouflage hoody, and sturdy black low-profile gloves, is kneeling in the backyard near the home. Carefully concealed behind blackberry bramble, he faces the child’s house. His intense brown, almost black eyes survey the landscape and the surrounding neighborhood. He is at the height of excitement and alertness yet poised to the point of absolute stillness. Life and death struggles are a way of life to him.

Like a Bach fugue, the breeze causes tall pines, elms, and poplar trees to sway in copycat fashion; their leaves and needles whispering in an eerie dialogue only they understand. A recent shower has raised the level of the small backyard creek just enough to make it bubble and purr. These noises will help mask any sounds of movement or struggle that are made, even if things go wrong. It’s the perfect night to carry out his plan.

Soon the stranger has silently picked the lock and entered Michael’s house through the back door. The tall man soon peers into the master bedroom from the living room. A young couple rests peacefully. Their windows are also open inviting a subtle scent of honeysuckle to permeate the household. The man breathes deeply, quieting the beating of his heart. The boy’s parents are oblivious to the intrusion. The stalker’s handsome face, camouflaged with black and green makeup, has taken on a drastic change from just moments ago. Still retaining its alertness, it now incorporates an unmistakable look of sadness.

The man inhales one last calming breath then moves toward the far side of the split plan ranch house. He knows the floorplan of the house as well as the inhabitants do and he negotiates the dark space in unhurried and serene movements as though he were a welcome guest. He soon enters a short hallway and stops outside the first room. It is Michael’s half brother’s bedroom. The much older boy from his father’s first marriage is sleeping soundly, his rhythmic snoring audible from behind the closed hollow core door.

The intruder continues down the hall and stops briefly to peek inside the bathroom before moving to the final room of the house. The door is several inches ajar. The intruder breathes deeply through his nose, and now without hesitation reaches out for the door. With a slight push it begins to glide open. A hinge squeaks causing the man to pause and catch his breath. Applying upward pressure on the door handle, he gently inches the door froward again as slowly as he can. It remains silent. Once inside the child’s perceived refuge, the stranger hovers momentarily beside Michael’s bed. His look of sadness intensifies. He reaches down and pulls the blanket and sheet away from Michael’s warm body. The child doesn’t stir. The man effortlessly lifts the boy and cradles him in his arms. His right hand is positioned such that he can cover Michael’s mouth in an instant should the need arise. He carries his burden through the hall, living room, kitchen, and then out the back door that he has purposely left ajar. He glides down wooden steps, enters the back yard, and heads toward the nearby creek.

The still sleeping child is placed on the grass at water’s edge, his head caressed by the stranger as he lowers it slowly to the ground. The man enfolds his fingers and softly utters a prayer before standing fully erect. He then swings his large upper body to the right and then to the left while crossing his opposite arm over his body in well-practiced fashion, cracking his back two distinct times. The stranger slips his right hand into his jeans pocket and pulls out a knife. He glances at it, unfolds the blade, and feels the edge with a glancing movement of his right gloved thumb. Next, his gaze leads to Michael’s neighbor’s house. He allows his head one quick nod and his mouth a slight grimace before doing what he came to do. The instrument of death moves with practiced purpose slicing the child’s left jugular vein, administering the killing blow before Michael is able to feel pain.

The murderer drops the knife onto the moist dirt and covers his victim’s mouth. Michael opens his eyes. They are filled with terror but the man knows he is experiencing no physical pain. The man brings his mouth near the boy’s right ear and whispers, Everything will be alright. God loves you. Go to sleep now. He concluded with the words, You’re a very good boy, as the man knows he is. The killer’s hands come together and he breathes one final prayer, Psalm twenty-three, as a tear runs down the left side of his painted face. That done, he watches Michael’s rosy cheeks turn pale and then fade to a chalky white. Unconsciousness comes within seconds, death moments later.

The murderer draws a clipped breath before completing his horrific task. The blade moves again in sporadic, uneven hiccups about the dead child’s head, upper body, and the delicate palms of his hands. An onlooker might think the movements expert; however, the resulting carnage will tell a different story. The result of the onslaught causes even the seasoned murderer to grimace. The public will soon be outraged, some demanding justice, others calling for revenge.

The killer then begins kicking and gouging the ground around him to create a scene of extreme violence. A moment later he rises to his feet and brushes off his pants with the back of his blood-stained gloves. Next, he dips his hands into the creek and after coating them with mud and leaves, applies the filth haphazardly to the child’s body and clothing. The last thing he does is ​Pull Michael’s pajamas down to his knees exposing his underwear.

His work complete, the killer stands and analyzes the scene. It appears as if the child has struggled for his life before succumbing to his enraged attacker. He nods and tosses the bloody knife into the woods beyond the branch. It isn’t his anyways. He sets his gaze back on the neighbor’s house and then on Michael’s house. All is quiet.

Twelve minutes later, the assailant has jogged nearly two miles from the scene of the crime through a hilly forest terrain and is turning the ignition key of his tan colored 1993 Toyota Tacoma.

Michael’s murder will be solved within forty-eight hours. One Robert Durham, a new arrival to the neighborhood of the victim, is known to the actual murderer as a child molester. Though innocent of this particular crime, Durham will be found guilty of murder and will spend the rest of his life behind bars without the possibility of parole.

Chapter 2 - Creatures of Habit

It’s Sunday morning. A charcoal-colored Mercedes S650 Pullman glides deliberately through the uncluttered streets of Chattanooga, Tennessee. The two occupants of the vehicle have made this trip hundreds of times in relative silence. Even the car’s Harman Kardon sound system remains silent. The man behind the wheel focuses all his attention on the road while the lone backseat passenger peers out his window. His blank stare notices little of the landscape. Billy Curtis, better known as The Prophet, rarely speaks on the way to a service. His worldwide congregation of millions would be surprised to learn that their pastor is a quiet man, rarely speaking when not on stage preaching God’s word.

The driver interrupts the Prophet’s meditation saying, We’re about two minutes out, Mr. Curtis.

Billy clears his throat loudly and says, Thank you, Richard. I’m very excited this morning. I feel like the message is going to be exceptional today.

Richard’s reply is always the same. As always, Sir.

Soon the driver turns the luxury car into the main entrance of McKenzie Arena and is forced to slow to a crawl. The parking lot is teeming with hundreds of delighted congregants making their way into the building. They wave and smile excitedly as their pastor’s vehicle inches by them.

It’s going to be another full house, Mr. Curtis. When was the last time you failed to fill all eight thousand seats?

It certainly has been a while. God is good, Richard. So very good.

The Mercedes window tinting on all its windows except the windshield is sufficiently dark that the people can barely make out Billy’s presence. That doesn’t stop them from getting close to the vehicle and yelling their sentiments of love. Some of them cry when he passes. Neither occupant of the car is much for overt expressions of emotion, even so, both men smile at the outpouring of affection.

The next several minutes, up until the service begins, will be when The Prophet is most vulnerable to any sort of attack. Richard Myers glances at his charge through the rear view mirror. He’s happy to see his employer continues to be content with waving politely through fully closed, bullet proof windows. It wasn’t always that way, and as a result, the world nearly lost their beloved pastor and some would say the world’s only prophet, as a result.

For the first several years of their professional relationship, once they arrived in the arena parking lot, Billy would insist on greeting all comers with handshakes or fists bumps through a lowered car window. He even allowed people to approach him as he made his way on foot into the building and would hear none of his bodyguard’s admonishments of caution.

Four years ago, Richard was escorting his charge into the arena while the latter was being thronged by a group of adherents.

A tremulous male voice rose above the din. You condemn others while you live in the lap of luxury. Who do you think you are? The crowd instinctively made a path for the approach of the distraught man while Richard slipped protectively in front of Billy. You killed my brother! He shouted.

The crowd murmured as the sense of alarm built. Richard moved toward the man while ordering people to move back. He told the stranger, Stop where you are!

Billy interjected, Let him approach. He must relieve himself of this burden.

Richard turned and argued, This man is a threat.

The man spit, Yeah, bald Charles Bronson. Let me approach.

You’re pushing your luck, little man.

Let him pass, Billy repeated calmly.

Richard moved to Billy’s side and whispered, Sir, this is a mistake, as the man stepped forward.

The man cried, Four years ago you doomed my brother to death and he died just like you said he would.

Billy replied, I only repeat what the Lord gives me. I’m so very sorry for your loss, but your blame is misplaced?

How convenient for you! The man’s voice cracked. Pronounce a death sentence on a man and then act like you have nothing to do with it. And believe me, I blame God every bit as much as I blame you.

Billy stepped forward and said, I understand your pain. I feel it as much as yo―

How dare you, the man screamed and lunged forward.

Richard caught hold of his left arm, threw the menace to the ground, and pinned him to the concrete with a knee to the attacker’s neck.

The man pleaded, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It’s just been so hard. You’re choking me.

Billy moved toward the men. He placed a hand on Richard’s shoulder, cajoling him to move away.  He then offered his hand to the man, helping him to stand. I’m sorry as well young man, he began. I can assure you I do carry this burden as well as you, but if I should hold my peace when the Lord speaks, these stones would immediately cry out.

The man’s contrition was a ruse. He tensed and growled, You’re not the only one who knows scripture. No weapon that is formed against thee shall prosper, and pulled a hand gun from his pants pocket.

Richard reacted as Billy and the others nearby froze in place, their eyes wild with fear. The gun went off just as Richard reached the assassin. He dove on top of the man, crushing him into the ground while pinning the mad man’s right hand and pistol to the ground with his left hand. A violent elbow blow to the man’s temple sent him into unconsciousness. Richard stood up, placed a foot on the gun, and told those gasping with excitement, It’s all over. Go on inside now.

He turned to his employer and asked, Are you injured? Let me check you. He frisked Billy’s body while watching his employer’s face for signs of pain. Finally, he said, Okay, you seem to be fine. Go on in and perform the service, Mr. Curtis. I’ll handle this mess with the police.

Are you okay, Rick? Billy asked grasping both of Richard’s shoulders with his hands.

Yes, I’m fine. Hurry inside now before this becomes an even bigger scene.

It was only after the service that Billy learned from the police that his bodyguard had been shot and taken by ambulance to the hospital. After a minor interrogation by the police, Billy too made his way to the hospital. When he found his rescuer in the ICU, Richard was the first to speak. Please don’t tell me you drove the Mercedes yourself.

As a matter of fact, I did. Why didn’t you tell me you were shot? I would never have held the service if I would have known.

That’s exactly why I didn’t tell you. Can you imagine the media storm we’d have if they thought someone had been shot at one of your services and that you were the target? Besides, it’s only a scratch. Nothing like the real thing I can assure you.

I have news for you, Rick. The storm you were worried about is happening. Besides, you are much more important to me than bad publicity. You should have told me. Didn’t it hurt? I saw no sign of pain in your movements or on your face.

Oh, it hurt, but not as much as you’d think. It passed through the fleshy part of my abdomen here. Besides, that’s why God gave us adrenalin. It does wonders to hide pain.

I’m sorry you had to experience any such pain; in your prior life or now. Are you sure you’re fine?

Richard said, I am. The bullet missed all the good stuff. They want to monitor my vitals for another hour or so and then I’m free to go. I have to tell you, Mr. Curtis, you’re going to have to start listening to me regarding your protection. People are crazy and when there are eight-thousand of them in a confined area, you just can’t be too careful.

You’re one hundred percent correct. I’ll do things your way from now on. I should have listened to you all of these years. None of this would have taken place if I had. But in my defense, everything happens for a reason and God is in control.

Actually, Mr. Curtis, that lunatic was in control to start things off this morning, and then I was. I’m not minimizing God’s power; I just feel like he takes care of people who take care of themselves.

Billy said, Touché, and sat with Richard until he was released.

Billy drove he and Richard home, and both of The Prophet’s Mercedes were modified with bullet proof glass and window tinting later that week.

Richard glides the car beyond the last of the pedestrians. He increases speed and drives to the rear of the arena through a restricted and stanchioned off area, bringing the Mercedes to rest near the over-sized double doors. He places the car in park and leaves it idling in case a hasty retreat is necessary, then peers at the image in the rearview mirror. Once the security guard closes the stanchion chain behind them, he exits the Mercedes. He closes the driver’s door and locks the car using the key fob. After a quick survey of the area, he moves to stand beside Billy’s car door and continuously scans the area for suspicious activity. Billy will remain inside the vehicle for precisely ten minutes, performing vocal exercises of varying loudness and range, in  preparation for the service. A knock on the rear passenger window will inform Richard that The Prophet is ready.

This is a well-practiced weekly habit. Every aspect of their lives is much the same; repetitive and well-practiced. The word ritual comes to mind. For Richard the structure is a Godsend. For The Prophet, it is an unalterable personality trait.

The expected knock comes. It’s show time.

Chapter 3 - Show Time

Richard makes one last threat assessment before opening the rear passenger door. He guides Billy from the back seat and the pair walk shoulder to shoulder toward the rear entrance. The indistinct and eerily haunting sound of orchestral music wafts softly from the building.

An armed security officer stationed outside the smaller exit door welcomes the arena’s most regular celebrity performer and the Head of Security with sentiments of good morning gentlemen, and good luck, Sir. When he opens the door, the men are met with a wave of sound and the a backstage area that is bustling with people who are charged with energy and excitement. Three young men are standing just inside the door and immediately jump into action. One hands a microphone headset to Richard, while another clips a microphone onto The Prophet’s tie. Both men slip away as the remaining man walks with The Prophet to a nearby stool. Billy sits obediently and allows his face to be, what he calls masked, with makeup for the television audience. Billy is not much for all of the glamour, but understands that the price of securing souls for God’s eternal army is fame for himself in the present. Billy limits that fame to this stage, seldom appearing outside of his private estate for any other reason.

Richard leaves his employer’s side knowing his ten man security crew have things under control. Another set of three men mind the surveillance monitors from a nearby room. They surveil camera views that cover nearly one hundred percent of the arena complex; to include inside seating areas, outside parking lots, and backstage. The Prophet is as safe as he can be in a public setting. Richard steps toward the stage and finds the edge of the heavy burgundy curtain. He pulls it aside just enough to peek at the audience and scrutinize the expectant crowd. There are smiles on nearly every face. Many are dancing in the aisles to the Symphony of Praise Orchestra’s lively arrangement of, A Mighty Fortress Is Our God. This is the churches signature piece and is the one that invites The Prophet on stage at its close.

When Richard is satisfied all is well, he returns to The Prophet’s side. Billy still rests on the stool but he has been left alone, his masking having been completed. He is all business at this point. No smile. No acknowledgement of those around him. Richard knows he is visualizing the performance of the sermon in his mind and that there’s very little, short of physical contact, that could disturb his concentration.

As the orchestra nears the end of the piece Richard nudges The Prophet letting him know it’s time.

Billy responds, I’m ready.

Richard offers the pastor the stage with an outstretched right arm and hand, and says, Good luck, Mr. Curtis.

The Prophet jogs to the center of the stage wearing a gray suit with a light blue shirt, a navy blue tie, and white tennis shoes. His movements are athletic and effortless. They have the odd quality of looking practiced and genuine at the same time. The crowd explodes with excitement while the orchestra begins another course of, A Mighty Fortress Is Our God. It is quite a spectacle with the full orchestra and chorus stationed on stage in formal attire behind the country’s most famous Pastor.

Richard has once again taken up station at curtain’s edge. He prefers to observe the crowd from this vantage point, relying on instinct rather than cameras and high definition monitors. He misses nothing of the latter intelligence however, receiving the constant chatter from his surveillance team through his headset.

The crowd becomes even louder after the last notes have sounded. Richard gets goosebumps.

Praise Jesus, The Prophet says and stretches his right hand above his head.

His voice is masculine without being low; clear and easily intelligible. Men would never consider it feminine while women tend to think it cute.

He’s quieting the crowd now, gesturing with his hands.

Praise Jesus. Amen and Amen. Thank you so much for the warm welcome. Let’s welcome God as well, shall we? Amen.

He points up to the ceiling again and the crowd responds in jubilant uproar. The sound is deafening. Eight thousand worshipers all holler, speak, and whistle their individual sentiments of praise. Now the orchestra gets in on the act again, performing, All Hail the Power of Jesus’ Name, with a small group of professional singers leading a full chorus. The praise continues after the music ends. Billy gives them some time. Just as the energy wanes, The Prophet once again beckons the crowd to silence.

Richard whispers, Here we go, to himself.

Billy speaks softly demanding attention. "The Lord is searching your heart, exploring the depths of your soul. What is he finding? There is not a single thought that passes through your mind that he doesn’t know intimately. Right down to intent. You can’t hide from God, Folks.

"First Chronicles chapter twenty-eight verse nine states, And thou, Solomon my son, know thou the God of thy father, and serve him with a perfect heart and with a willing mind: for the LORD searcheth all hearts, and understandeth all the imaginations of the thoughts: if thou seek him, he will be found of thee; but if thou forsake him, he will cast thee off forever..."

There are two large screens behind The Prophet on either side of the stage where the congregation can watch their pastor up close and read along with biblical text.

"...The word perfect in this passage should be translated mature, while the word heart means your mind. This promise of God to Solomon extends to us today. The Bible tells us in Hebrews chapter thirteen verse eight, Jesus Christ the Same yesterday, and today, and forever. Because God never changes, we know his promises never change, his laws never change, his conditions – did you hear that? His conditions never change. If you seek our Father and serve him with a mature and willing mind, He will be found of you. I believe that with my whole heart. I believe the last part of the First Chronicles verse as well; if you forsake him, he will cast you off forever..."

Richard hears the words, but they are muted in his mind as he continues to study the faces in the crowd using a pair of micro binoculars. Most people are engrossed in the message and the presentation, but there’s often one or two oddballs he has to pay careful attention to. It’s typical surveillance. He’s looking for the nervous type, people who have clinched jaws or an angry scowl, the profuse sweater, the fidgeter, the one exhibiting waking rapid eye movement. Richard coined that term as it relates to security. If someone’s eyes are darting nervously, especially without accompanying head movement, there is definitely reason for concern.

He’s not seeing anything of the like at present. For those instances when he does, they have a ceiling mounted camera above the stage that allows him to view wherever he determines and in in any degree of focus, with a small monitor set up for Richard just off stage.

...He also told Solomon to know the God of thy father...

The Prophet imparts a calm sense of eternal security during his sermons; even when the topic is punishment or damnation. You can see it on the faces of the congregants as they listen and watch. The Prophet doesn’t believe in lost causes and that gives them hope that they have a chance with God. You’ll never hear a fire and brimstone sermon that dooms parishioners to a fiery eternity based on the most human of infractions of God’s law as other preachers tend to do. His messages are always about what is possible; not the impossible.

Richard begins to smile. He spots a particularly attractive women in her late twenties three rows from the stage. Richard has no doubt she is eyeing her pastor with what are decidedly unchristian thoughts. Her gaze and body language practically shout, Take me. Richard’s smile progresses to a chuckle.

He thinks, You’re barking up the wrong tree, sweetheart. Billy only has eyes for God, and it is true. Richard has worked with Billy Curtis for over a decade during the most intimate of circumstances; as personal bodyguard, head of his security detail, driver, and roommate, and Billy had never entertained anyone in a physical relationship in all of that time.

Richard could not be more different in this and many other respects from his employer. Even so, their friendship and professional relationship are harmonious in the extreme. Richard doesn’t have the type of personality that lends itself to awe others, but if there was one person that would fit that category, it would be Billy Curtis. The control he exhibits over his own lusts and deprivations equals that of those in military special forces. In fact, before he met Billy, the only people he found that had as much fortitude as himself and Billy were his fellow Army Rangers. And then there was Billy’s undeniable talent. The sway he held over his congregation could only be matched by the most gifted politicians or actors. He brims with confidence while on stage, commanding attention by his movements as much as for his soliloquies, and this from a person of the most modest temperament outside of his calling.

...The second condition God placed on Solomon was to serve him with a perfect heart and a willing mind. We must devote ourselves to Him with our whole being. Physically, in the form of good works, intellectually in the form of reading and studying His word with understanding, and emotionally in the form of doing the right thing even when the temptation to do otherwise seems overwhelming...

It has been over a year since The Prophet has given a prophesy. As the weeks turned into months, Richard can tell the congregation is becoming expectant. It’s not that they are dissatisfied with the sermons or with the delivery of them, it is just human nature. The worst of human nature. The underlying tension has become more noticeable and seems to begin earlier in each sermon of late. Richard likens them to a pot of water that is just on the verge of boiling. They’re emotionally on the edge of their seats and if Billy turns off the flame and doesn’t prophesy today there will be a letdown. They won’t advertise the fact, at least not openly, but many people will leave the arena disappointed.

The simple truth is, the people can’t wait to see the Prophet in Billy emerge. They want to be present when that message from God comes that will undoubtedly predict the destruction of someone’s family. Richard wonders if, after such a drought, more people attend Billy’s services for the sensation of those moments; to witness the car wreck so to speak, rather than for Christian fellowship or even to hear Billy’s sermon. Much like when people flock to buy lottery tickets when the prize becomes unusually high. Their chances of winning are just as astronomical as usual, yet they can’t help themselves for hope of winning the jackpot.

...Do you seek our Father with all your heart? Beside Christ himself, Solomon was the wisest person who ever lived and yet he fell short in this regard in his later years...

Richard eyes the crowd for another half hour, until the Prophet completes his sermon with the customary, Thank you for coming. God loves every one of you. Go and make it a great day, and bounds off the stage wet with perspiration, but with the same energy he entered with.

Richard throws him a towel when he gets out of view of the audience. Fantastic as usual, Mr. Curtis. Sometimes you make me feel like even I have a chance.

Everyone has a chance, Richard. Even you, Billy replies and swats Richard with the towel as he passes by. Was all well today? he calls out.

Following from behind, Richard answers, Indeed. Outside of meeting your future wife, though she appears to be several years too young for you, no one warranted any one on one attention from your head of security.

Funny man, Billy replied and continued walking toward a corridor just off the wide open backstage area where there are dressing rooms and offices. He will shower and change clothes while the parking lots empty of traffic.

Richard leaves Billy and walks onto the stage. Another sermon is in the books and another congregation is departing without hearing a much hoped for omen from The Prophet. The Orchestra and chorus are sending the congregation on their way with one final composition. It’s another standard Christian anthem, Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus. The security expert scans the entire area about him. The crowd disperses rather slowly, as most stop to stuff envelopes of money into ancient looking wooden chests placed beside each exit door. Billy copied the idea from the second book of Chronicles where one of the Temple priests bored a hole through a chest to collect funds for building repairs. It was one of Billy’s creative ways to provide a comfortable atmosphere for his congregation while also avoiding passing the hat during a live television broadcast.

Richard will stay busy, helping musicians pack up some of the larger instruments while keeping an eye on the audience as they exit the vast space until Billy reappears and signals his readiness to depart. This is normally an uneventful time; however, incidents have been known to happen, both on and off stage.

The orchestra is packing up when Richard sees a familiar figure nearing the stage. He smiles at John, a large balding man in