The Summoning
By Bentley Little
LITTLE IS ABSOLUTELY
THE-BEST IN THE BUSINESS
?STEPHEN KING
THE NOVELS OF BENTLEY LITTLE ARE:
'ELECTRIFYING.'-West Coast Review of Books
PINNACLE BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
850 Third Avenue
New York, NY 10022
Copyright © 1993 by Bentley Little
All rights reserved.
Thanks to the regulars: Dominick Abel, Keith Neilson, Larry and Roseanne Little, Judson and Krista Little.
Thanks also to Richard Laymon, for his much needed and much-appreciated support.
Special thanks to Wai Sau Li, for her assistance with Chinese language, customs and lore; and to the Chu family--Danny, Salina, Fanny, Henny and Susan--for giving me a glimpse into Chinese restaurant life.
?William Butler Yeats
Jesus appeared to the Pastor Clan Wheeler while he slept. Tall and healthy, bathed in a shimmering glow, Jesus strode across the meadow grass and through the trees while Wheeler followed. It was day, a clear glorious day with the sun hanging warm and white in a deep blue cloudless sky. Around him, the trees and plants were green, bright green, free from dust and dirt, and the grass beneath his feet felt soft and smooth and cushiony. The fresh air was alive with the vibrant sound of birdsong.
Jesus walked around a copse of manzanita bushes, and now Wheeler knew where they were. He recognized the empty feed and grain store and the smattering of trailers which flanked Highway 370 on the north side of town. Only... Only this wasn't desert. And the trailers did not look as shabby as they usually did. Indeed, each seemed bright and shiny and new, and colorful flowers were planted in the lush ground surrounding them. The feed and grain store, while still empty, also seemed refurbished, as though waiting for someone to move in.
Moving gracefully, almost gliding, Jesus ascended the Steep incline which led to the raised road and began walking down the center stripe of the highway. Wheeler followed, past the new Texaco station, past the rebuilt fence of the Williams's old horse corral, until they came to a small clearing between the empty mining administration building and the assaying office at the top of the hill.
Now Jesus stopped and turned to face him. The Savior's features were framed by beautiful hair that hung in thick curls around His shoulders, and His reddish brown beard shone in the sunlight. The expression on His face was one of infinite patience and understanding, and when He spoke His voice carried the firm yet comforting tone of Truth.
'Clan,' He said, and His voice was music to Wheeler's ears, 'I have chosen you for a special task.'
Wheeler wanted to respond, wanted to fall to his knees and sob his grateful thanks, but he was rooted in place, transfixed by the power radiating from Christ's form.
Jesus lifted an arm, gestured toward the land around him. 'This is where you will build your church.'
Now Clan Wheeler found his voice. 'What kind of church am I to build?'
Jesus said nothing, but the church appeared immediately in Wheeler's mind. In one epiphanous instant, he knew everything about the church to be, from its dimensions to its construction materials to the placement of items within its rooms. It was an awesome structure, overwhelming in its scope and ambition, a tremendous testament to God's living glory that rendered p, ale the cathedrals of old and seemed far too grandiose and spectacular to be hidden away in a town like Rio Verde.
'The Lord's greatness can be honored any place at any time,' Jesus said, answering his concern before it was vocalized. 'The Lord need not locate His church where people will see it; people will see it where it is located.'
And Wheeler understood. The faithful, the worthy, the deserving, they would know where the church was built and would make the effort to visit it. Pilgrims from all over the world would flock to Rio Verde to experience the glory of Christ reflected in the magnificence of His church. The blind would be sighted by casting their dead eyes upon it, the crippled would be healed by touching its walls. Believers would be rewarded, nonbelievers would come to believe. Wrong would be righted, and the kingdom of God on earth would spread from the germ of this humble beginning.
Wheeler's eyes filled with tears, and the transcendent form of the Savior began to blur. 'I .. . I love you,' Wheeler stammered, falling to his knees.
Jesus smiled, a smile so radiant and beatific that it cut through the wavering wall of tears and shone full force on Wheeler's face. 'I know,' Jesus said.
When Wheeler awoke it was morning, and he found himself staring up at the white speckled ceiling above his bed. He lay there for a moment, thinking, then threw off the covers. He stood and walked across the cold wooden floor to the window, feeling both frightened and exhilarated. He had no doubt of the veracity of his vision, that he had seen the Lord Jesus Christ. God had spoken to him. The sincerity and fervency of his untiring efforts to spread the gospel had been noticed in Heaven, and he had been specifically chosen by Jesus to assist Him in the performance of this duty, to construct this great monument to God's glory.
Wheeler had no illusions about himself. He knew he was small dine. He did not command the attention of the TV evangelists, did not have a nationwide following and probably never would. Then again, maybe God did not look favorably on the way the big-time pastors traded on the Lord's name for their own profit. Maybe He had been looking for just such a humble preacher as himself to carry out His wishes.
Wheeler was not vain enough to believe that he was the only man on earth qualified to perform in the service of the Lord, and he would not be surprised to discover that Jesus had spoken to several men of God other than him self, exhorting all of them to construct churches in different areas of the country or the world. It was unrealistic to suppose that he, Clan Wheeler, out of all of the billions of individuals on the planet, had alone been chosen to do the bidding of the Lord.
Then again... He thought of Noah, thought of Moses, thought of
Abraham.
, Wheeler looked out the window and down the hill toward the abandoned storefront where his church had been forced to hold its first meetings.
He couldn't really see the storefront, could only see a portion of its tar-papered roof between the other buildings, but he knew it was there, and its presence made him feel goock He had carved out a niche in this town with nothing going for him but his own gift of gab and an undying faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. For the past ten
