One of Peterson's first memories of his college days was a group of classmates driving to a public school passing out Christian flyers. In that group was a pretty young girl who would soon become his wife. It was in his second year at college during another evangelistic push that he decided that he would become a pastor of a church. He never knew that his church's fight against humanism, Darwinism, secularism and any other newism was just made up so they could have an opponent to compete against in every town and village in this country.
Tom Peterson, still fresh from the indoctrination of the Bible College, hadn't as yet tempered his thoughts of the schools as churches of secular humanism and of teachers as their priests. When he heard the rumors of a teacher having sexual relations with a high school girl, his anger flared. He pulled his class notes from college. He called the _good_ Christians and asked them to find out who the teacher was. He prayed and prepared for the calling down of hell and damnation.
Tom stood in front of his congregation. He had heard that the name of the teacher was James Makinen just before the service. He recognized the name. When he asked his deacon, Mr. Shermon, about the name, he was told that he was the son of the older couple who always sat in back. He decided to ask them to
come up to the front of the church after the service to pray for their son.
The congregation was waiting.
"The text today will be coming from Second Peter PAGEBREAK
CHAPTER two." Tom waited as the people turned to the pages of their bibles. He loved to hear the rustle of the pages. While he waited, he noticed a few new faces in the congregation, a lone man in back, a young woman in front, and a family in the third row.
"I will read verses one, fourteen, and fifteen.
"'But there were false prophets also among the people, even as there shall be false teachers among you, who privily shall bring in damnable heresies, even denying the Lord that bought them, and bring upon themselves swift destruction.
"Having eyes full of adultery, and that cannot cease from sin; beguiling unstable souls: an heart they have exercised with covetous practices; cursed children:
"Which have forsaken the right way, and are gone astray, following the way of Balaam the son of Bo'-sor, who loved the wages of unrighteousness;' Amen!"
"False teachers!" Peterson yelled. "Bringing damnable heresies!"
"Teachers! Heretics! Teaching lies to your children. How we came from monkeys. The false prophecies of humanism..." Peterson stamped and yelled and pranced about the altar. He told of teachers denying the Lord. He told of humanism permitting drugs and sex. He told of one teacher in their own school! He had gotten to the section in his sermon where the adulterous teacher had just beguiled the unstable soul of an innocent student when the young woman in front got up and left. Everyone watched her. The man in back and the Makinen couple left next. The young family followed. Unknown to Peterson was that half of his congregation either were teachers or had sons and daughters or mothers and fathers that were. Before he could start his sermon again, the auditorium had emptied. The only ones left were two deacons and their families and an old man in a walker who had to wait for a ride to pick him up.
In the silence of the nearly empty church, the old man spoke up. "Son, you sure acted dumber than Balaam and not as smart as his ass today. You need to know what you're talking about and who you are talking to before you open your mouth. I guess you now know how many teachers you had in your flock."
* * * *
James Makinen woke in the pre-dawn light. He had slept badly. He kept seeing, in his mind, the soft curve of Lori Waithe's back as she stood in the front pews of the church. He watched over and over again the swaying of her body as she strode out of the church. He had enjoyed watching her before. But after seeing her stride out of the church, it had changed from pleasure to desire. In his dreams, he kept reaching for her body. All he found was the shabby blanket he had on his bed.
Unable to go back to sleep and prevented from going to work, he decided to clear some of the brush from the swampy lowland in back of the trailer. He got an axe, a bow saw and a machete from the small shed he had built in back. He cut, chopped, and dragged brush into piles all day only stopping for a sandwich at noon.
It was late afternoon when he heard the honking and cars. A caravan pulled up along the road. Out of the cars and pickups poured high school boys and some of the wilder girls. A few threw empty beer cans at the trailer. A knot of rowdy kids got tangled on the steep sides of the highway ditch and tumbled into a pile of arms and legs and squeals. A girl at the bottom of the knot took the opportunity to grope her boyfriend's crotch. The resulting squeals occupied three carloads of students and kept them out of the upcoming fight.
Makinen had learned early in his career that you never back down from a confrontation. He walked right up to the screaming kids. In his hand, he had the bow saw. The cars had arrived while he was cutting a small tree down. The saw had seemed to stay in his hands. He rocked the saw back and forth in his
hand as he walked to the kids. When he was only a few feet away from the mob, the swinging brought the saw up against his forearm. It seemed to fit. The steel tube of the bow saw ran along the edge of his forearm in the same classic way you see the police hold their batons on the late night cop shows. The saw blade ran along the outside edge of the arm protecting it.
The first student, an Arne Johanson, was swinging a tire iron. Behind him and to each side were a half a dozen other boys two of which had baseball bats. Arne didn't wait. He and John had beat up other people for Pike. He had learned that the one who strikes first usually has the least bruises afterwards. He swung the iron at Makinen's head. Instead of the crunch of metal against flesh that he expected, he heard the ring of metal against metal. Before he could recover, he felt excruciating pain in the back of his knee followed by the air leaving his chest when he landed with his back on the ground. It took him a full minute to catch his breath and open his eyes. When he did, he saw two of the boys with him with their hands raised, one had blood flowing from a ragged cut on his arm while the other had a foot long gash across his chest. Arne heard screams of terror from the distance and the sound of cars speeding away.
Makinen walked into his sight. Arne saw that the bow saw he held was bent at an angle with blood dripping from the blade. Makinen looked at them and shook his head.
"Stupid. Stupid. Stupid," he said, still shaking his head. "Okay, boys, you grab Arne and start walking. Your friends left you. I'm going to call the sheriff's department now. I want you a half mile down the road by the time they arrive. If you're not, I will have to talk to you again. Understand?"
The two boys shook their heads 'yes' and dragged Arne to his feet. For the first time, Arne realized his leg was broken. He screamed himself unconscious. When he woke again, he was in the hospital.
* * * *
Henry Hakanen was finishing the last of the day's paperwork when Nancy buzzed him and told him he had a call on line two. Al Gallea was leaving the office when Henry waved him to a stop.