The Church In Wildwood: Hell is Near

By William Gamsby

Gerald Grey, the pastor of Wildwood church has died. His only living relative, his nephew Russell has come to settle the estate. What Russel finds will lead him on a life-changing journey. An amazing discovery in the basement of the church will send Russell and his new friends on a dangerous mission to save not only their little town, but possibly the world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jun 28, 2022
• ISBN: 9781641385893

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The Church In Wildwood

Hell is Near

William Gamsby

Copyright © 2018 William Gamsby

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2018

ISBN 978-1-64138-588-6 (pbk)

ISBN 978-1-64138-589-3 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

About the Author

First, I would like to thank God for the idea and His word for the inspiration.

Next, I would like to thank my family and friends who constantly encouraged me to see this through to the end. I appreciate their support and enthusiasm.

This book was only possible because of the time and effort put forth by my loving wife, life-long companion and friend, Roberta. Truly without her this would never have been started, let alone completed. Thank you!

Chapter 1

The country church in Wildwood had been closed for the last six months. The songs and sermons that once were heard coming from the always open doors were no longer, they had been locked. This is not to say that no one went into the church. There were rumors that shadows had been seen entering the building and, at times, there were small lights flickering faintly in the windows. No concrete evidence of trespassing was discovered as nothing was ever disturbed within the church, but there was definitely someone there.

The pastor of the old country church had been in the town of Wildwood for most of his life, and had been the leader of the small congregation for more than fifty years. He hadn’t delivered a sermon in twenty-three years due to a stroke, which left him mute. His faithful congregation had decided not to search for a replacement as Pator Gerald Grey continued to be just as active with the shepherding of his flock and the nurturing of the faithful as he had always been. He had written out sermons to be delivered by a board member each week and still counseled with his congregation.

When Pastor Grey died six months ago, the town and congregation were devastated. It seemed as though a piece of the building had been taken away, and the few people left in the congregation were heartbroken. There were only eighteen that had been meeting faithfully two times a week to fellowship, minister, and encourage one another through life’s daily trials. Pastor Grey had always been there with a warm smile, kind eyes, and his pen and pad in hand—ready to chime in on the discussions.

Pastor Grey had leased the church fifty-six years ago with the agreement that upon his death it would revert back to the township. The congregation was in no place to purchase the beloved building from the town, and they waited anxiously as the town council decided the old building’s fate.

Wildwood was a small town that was growing quickly. A new company was working on purchasing logging rights for land just on the outskirts of town while the town was also being courted by a major employer seeking to begin mining for palladium. These outside interests were far more important to the town council than an old church building and its small congregation.

A group of well-meaning folks proposed to buy the church Building, and there was no resistance. The town council gladly leased it to them for five years agreeing to re-visit the contract after that time about a purchase agreement. The group NEVOC (New Environmental Voice of Choice) began its occupation of the old church building.

The agreement with NEVOC happened so fast that no one had time to respond or question the proposal. The first the congregation knew of the new occupants, was when the trucks came with workers to remodel the building. The only thing that changed on the outside was the removal of the cross and in its place was a world globe with five pointed arrows equally spaced around it. Most of the town paid no attention to the change, but to the eighteen faithful it was like putting daggers in their hearts. Removing their prayer place and filling it with a group of unknowns was too much. George Walters, chairman of the church board, gathered the faithful together and prayed, God, would you show us what to do or bring us a person to lead us.

Then Mary, George’s wife, broke the silence, Didn’t Pastor Grey have a nephew in China? she asked.

Now that you mention it, his brother was a missionary over there for a number of years, said George. I had forgotten all about him. Charlotte, can you find his address and let them know about Pastor Grey’s passing?

Sure, George, I will do that tomorrow morning at the office, replied the young Charlotte. She had joined the church six years ago and currently worked at the town hall.

The search began and prayers accompanied the letter as it began its long journey to China.

Kenny, Pastor Grey’s brother, was driving with his wife when suddenly a bright light flashed in front of their car and caused him to veer into the ditch. Their son Russell, was attending Northwestern College when the accident happened. Russell got a phone call at 3:00 a.m. telling him about the accident and that there were no survivors. Russell hurriedly caught the next plane to China. At the hospital he was told that they couldn’t release the bodies until they were properly processed.

After three weeks of daily visits to the proper authorities, Russell found out the bodies would only be released to him provided they were embalmed first. (They had been frozen all this time.) Russell set about to find an embalmer but was refused by all he met. Because they were Christian; therefore no one wanted to touch them, let alone prepare them for the burial.

When Russell finally got his parents back to the United States, almost four months had passed. Russell tried to settle down and decide what he should do next. Should he return to school? Should he get a job? His parents owned no home so he made due with a small rented apartment, supporting himself by doing odd jobs. Then, after a couple of months, he got a letter from Wildwood.

A beatup brown Buick station wagon pulled into town and stopped at town hall. Russell got out and climbed the stairs. He found Charlotte smiling behind the massive counter. Russell started, I got a letter stating that my Uncle Gerald has died. The postmark was washed out, and it took me three weeks to get here.

You just got this letter three weeks ago? inquired Charlotte.

Yes, it looks like it has been around the world—battered, muddy, and smudged. But it made it to me three weeks ago.

Just a minute. Wait here please, Charlotte said as she went into the office behind her.

Harry, there is a man out here claiming that the pastor was his uncle. What should I do? she whispered and turned so Russell couldn’t see her face. You know what the town council did with the church.

I’ll handle this, Charlotte, Harry, president of the town council, said calmly.

Harry stood and walked to where Russel waited, Sir, my name is Harry Bly, and I understand that you are looking for your uncle, is that right?

Well no, not exactly. I received a letter saying that he had passed away. I’m here to inquire about his belongings and his will.

Oh, he had no will, Harry answered quickly. And as for his belongings, he lived in a small house about a mile and a half, outside of town. I doubt that there is anything of value since he spent all of his time at the old church building.

Could I go to the church and see where Uncle Gerald preached? Russell asked.

That will be rather difficult since there is another group occupying that building now. I suppose you can ask them if you can look around. They seem to be genuinely concerned about the welfare of Wildwood. Talk to a gentleman named Theos, Harry finished speaking and offered his hand for a cursory handshake. He is the one who answers our questions.

Thank you, Mr. Bly, said Russell as they shook hands. When he turned away, he noticed Charlotte with her hands folded together in a quick gesture of prayer behind Harry’s back. Odd, thought Russell.

Russell decided to look at his uncle’s house first. After all, it had been a long drive and maybe he could find a soft bed to refresh his weary body. As he pulled into the drive, he noticed that the windows were dark, weeds were growing in the driveway, and there was no sign that life had been anywhere near this place for quite some time. He remembered the words of his Uncle G: Remember we are backdoor folk. So he went around to the backdoor and tried it. It opened easily.

Russell was grateful that he had packed his flashlight since the electricity had been turned off. Even in broad daylight, the house was full of shadows and half-light. As the light flashed around and bounced off the cobwebs, Russell saw pictures of his uncle and aunt. There were plaques about Jesus, quotes from the Bible, and a picture of a man praying. Despite six months of accumulating dust and cobwebs, the house was relatively clean. On his way upstairs he noticed a squeaky loose board on the second step. I’ll deal with that tomorrow, he thought. Right now I need a good night’s sleep. He pushed open the bedroom door and found the bed draped with a sheet. He carefully pulled off the sheet so he didn’t disturb too much dust and collapsed on the bed.

Harry Bly was frantically calling the town council members: Elizabeth Crown, Tom Jackson, Edward Hound III, and Vernon Hiate. Edward answered first.

An heir to old Pastor Grey showed up. What should I do? Harry asked Edward.

Call a meeting for eight o’clock tonight. Let the others know what is going on and that it is urgent.

Eight o’clock came and found the five town council members sitting around the table with worrisome looks. They all knew that they had brushed the will under the rug, and since no one came forward within thirty days (let alone six months) to claim the body and property, they thought they were safe.

Well, this is a mess, said Vernon. Let the record show that I was against the church building idea and the whole thing.

"Oh, shut up, Vern. You were as much a part of this as any of us, Elizabeth declared. You know the law, Mr. Attorney. Now use that knowledge from these last twenty-eight years and tell us what we can do." Elizabeth had always been direct and bossy. Not all the council liked her, but if you wanted something done, she would make sure it was done well, quickly, and always under budget.

Harry, you said that there was no will, right? asked Vernon Hiate, attorney for the council.

Yes, replied Harry.

OK, we must all agree that there was none. And that can never change. Now about the pastor’s possessions. This relative can have whatever he wants from Pastor Grey’s residence. But the church building is no longer part of the Grey estate as it reverted back to the town upon Grey’s death, Vern stated.

I will let the nephew know tomorrow, said Harry.

Good. I trust that this will be the end of this matter, exclaimed Tom Jackson. We have a meeting with the loggers tomorrow. Let’s see what they propose for the land usage and how they are going to harvest the trees in this area. They had better not clear-cut the timber like they did over in Hapmas Falls. Erosion nearly washed the north side of the town down the river.

The meeting tomorrow is at three. Can we all make it? Elizabeth asked.

All agreed, and the momentary threat was averted and forgotten.

Russell stretched and gave a large yawn as he awoke. Upon inhaling, he began to cough. Darn dust, he spoke out loud as he stretched. I’m starving, time for some food. Russell changed into a clean pair of pants and a crisp shirt. He liked being presentable and was glad to be out of the clothes he had worn traveling. He was tempted to open the windows at the house and let some air and light in, but decided that would have to wait as his stomach had begun to protest.

The diner had the smell of bacon and grits. Russell wandered in, got a table, and asked what there was to do for excitement around Wildwood.

The waitress Mary pleasantly said, We enjoy our playhouse theater where they are now presenting War of the World’s Radio Show. We swim and fish in the river. If you’re looking for a church, we don’t have one anymore.

I see, said Russell. "When