Daniel’s cell had gone missing in the chaos, and he’d removed the battery and SIM card from his uncle’s phone so it could not be used to track their location. He stayed on the blue highways, off the interstates, and he stayed well under the speed limit.
The post-adrenaline hangover left nerves raw for both men, and Trinity didn’t seem to want conversation, which was OK with Daniel. He needed the time to think. He drove without destination for a while, then climbed high into the rural mountains of northwest Georgia, where the roads became dirt. He cruised deep into the woods until he spotted an unoccupied hunting cabin, thirty miles from the nearest town. The cabin was off the grid, electricity supplied by a generator. The generator was cold, the cabin dark, and there was no evidence of a recent visitor.
Daniel jimmied a window open and climbed through, unlocked the front door and let Trinity in. The hunting cabin was nicer than he’d expected. Probably owned by an executive who liked the idea of
Trinity found canned soup and beef jerky in the cupboard, enough to keep them until morning. At sunset Daniel covered the windows with blankets and lit an oil lamp he found under the sink, and they ate soup out of the can and listened to the news on a wind-up radio.
Twelve dead at Trinity’s church. Six killed by the explosion, another six trampled to death in the stampede from the building. Over two dozen injured.
“I told you I had a feeling something bad was gonna happen,” said Trinity.
“This would qualify,” said Daniel.
The radio told them that Reverend Tim Trinity was missing and was thought to have died in the explosion, but this was as yet unconfirmed. The Fulton County Medical Examiner’s Office directed questions to the FBI, and the FBI wasn’t releasing a statement until the forensic investigation was complete and next-of-kin had been notified.
Trinity put his soup can on the coffee table, reached out his right hand. “Gimme the phone.”
“What?”
“I gotta call Liz, let her know I’m OK.”
“Tim, Liz was still standing in your dressing room when I dragged you out.” Trinity didn’t withdraw his hand. Daniel shook his head. “I said no. The world thinks you’re dead, and you’re gonna stay dead until it benefits us to resurrect you. If they know you’re alive, they’ll come at you again. We need time to figure our next move.”
Trinity’s arm dropped slowly to his side, and his eyes became wet in the flickering orange light. He blinked rapidly, let out a long breath.
“You and Liz were close.”
“Sorta off and on, but…yeah. We were close.”
“I’m sorry.”
Trinity pulled a steel flask from his pocket, screwed off the cap, and raised it toward the ceiling in a toasting gesture. “Glory and survival, Liz. Hell of a broad.” He took a swig, closed his eyes for a moment, nodded to himself. “OK. We go to New Orleans.”
“First place they’ll look for you,” Daniel said. “People in trouble usually run home.”
Trinity pointed at him. “I’m dead, remember? They won’t be looking. Your words.”
“A couple days at most. And that’s where they’ll start.”
“Then we haul ass, in-and-out before they find out. See, I know where the answer is…” Trinity held up a hand. “Last night, I had a dream. More powerful than a dream, it felt like a vision. It felt like God talking. In the dream, God came in the form of a beautiful black woman. The woman said I was in danger. She also said she could help me. And when I woke up, I knew where to find her. She’s in New Orleans.”
“What’s her name?”
“I don’t know. But she’s in the French Quarter. I know her address—633 Dumaine, just off Royal.”
“You just woke up with her address in your head.”
Trinity nodded. “I woke up, and in my head, I could
“This dream, it was like the dream where God told you he wanted me by your right hand?”
Trinity let out a sheepish grin. “Yeah, well, I was lying when I told you that. I just made it up so you’d stay.”
“That was
God, he was like a child sometimes. “Speaking of promises,” said Daniel, “what happened to telling the world you’re not the Messiah?”
“I tried. Honest—you saw me—the words wouldn’t come out. So then I did exactly what I told you I’d do: I opened my mouth and trusted the Lord to feed me my lines.” Trinity took a swig from his flask. “And you know what? I think he did.” He winked. “Just wish he’d given me a little more material. Man, I felt like an ass up there.”
Daniel smiled despite himself. He kicked off his shoes. “I’ll go with you to New Orleans,” he said.
“Thanks.” Trinity held the flask out. “Care for a snort?”
Daniel took the flask, smooth and warm in his hand, and swallowed some bourbon. It went down with a welcome burn. The engraving on the flask caught his eye, and he angled it toward the oil lamp.
He looked up and his uncle nodded.
“You broke my heart, son.”
Daniel took another swig, handed the flask back. “Right back at ya, old man.” He lay back on the couch and closed his eyes. “Better get some shut-eye. We hit the road early.”
Outside, rain started drumming hard para-para-diddles on the cabin’s tin roof, and thunder cracked in the distance. Tim Trinity was quiet for a minute. Then he said, “Thanks for saving my life today.”
“Go to sleep, Tim.”
“Sweet dreams, kid.”
Early morning mist rose through the Georgia pines like the souls of the dead ascending from their graves on Judgment Day. The lonely jackhammer knock of a woodpecker echoed somewhere in the distance. Daniel and Trinity rolled slowly along the muddy road, windows down, Daniel scanning cabins on the left, Trinity the right.
