How to Save a Life
by Catherine Pollock
It was an unlikely
trio sitting in the middle of the black-lit back storage room at the back of a
warehouse that had not seen shipping crates in five years or more. The light
cast an air of unreality to the affair, but kept it from prying eyes looking
too closely for a reason to turn someone in.
First of note was the tall, solidly built frame which
would be completely invisible save his starched white dress shirt – Mayor
Peyton Jones. Second, an equally solid built, but shorter frame clothed in a
black button down shirt and dark jeans, with arms made visible only by the
rolled up sleeves – Bryce Newton, former missionary and current fugitive from
justice. Rounding out the group was a ruddy
complexioned beanpole in trash stained trousers, red flannel, with matted hanks
of black hair peeking out underneath a battered beret – Jack. No last name – just
Jack.
“What brought you here tonight?” Bryce asked, pale
blue eyes narrowed slightly as he leaned in to listen. Thirty-six hours with no sleep had removed the
white in them, leaving him with one thing in common with Jack.
“Hones- honestly, I dunno.” Jack’s voice hiccupped. “Jus’ heard Roger yellin’ on a street corner ‘bout how he
got freedom.”
“And you wanted to find out about it,” Peyton drawled
slightly, figuring he had finished the rest of Jack’s thought. It hadn’t been
so long since he had come in search of the same freedom, and found it in
Christ. Now he sat with Bryce, learning how to save a life from the man everyone
called the expert.
“Thought this was freedom,” Jack continued. “Not
dependin’ on no one for nothin’. But they started roundin’ us up, callin’ us
them bible-thumpin’ Christians and shippin’ us out ‘fore we can prove we
ain’t.”
His gaze swung to Peyton, whose jaw clenched and
cheeks sagged in a painful wince. Getting people off the streets was his way of
keeping pressure off Bryce, and he’d known the cost. He hadn’t expected to be
faced with it.
“So I reckon this freedom Roger started hollerin’
‘bout might save me from it.” Jack’s gaze locked on Bryce again.
Bryce let out a short laugh. “Guess you didn’t hear
what happened to Roger, then.”
“What?” Jack asked, leaning in towards Bryce.
“Old man got himself arrested this afternoon for
preaching in the streets.”
Jack jerked away. For a second, the rapid pupil
movement from side to side suggested a quick departure, but the man settled
back down, though his foot tapped restlessly on the concrete floor.
“Roger ain’t a guy to shout random crazy stuff,” Jack
muttered. “He got freedom, an’ I want it.”
“You prepared for the consequences?” Bryce’s eyes
widened slightly, the creases in his face disappeared momentarily as he locked
gazes with Jack.
“Everythin’ in life got consequences.” Jack’s jaw
straightened. “An’ if I don’t like what I hear, I kin always turn ya in.”
“Fair enough.” Bryce’s gaze remained fixed as he
launched into the message that had bought Peyton his freedom. Peyton’s eyes darted back and forth between
the two, trying to keep up and finding exhaustion had stolen over him. His eyes
fell shut, and did not come open until a swift, sudden jab landed in his rib
cage. They lit on a grinning Bryce and tentatively smiling Jack.
“Say hello to your newest brother.”
A few hours later, after a million questions and
Jack’s departure, Peyton looked over at Bryce.
“Thought I was learning how to save lives,” he said.
“Not sleep through the procedure.”
“You are.” Bryce’s lips curled up slightly. “There is
no procedure, and there is no saving for you to do. You just have to learn how
to see where the Lord is leading. Tonight, he led you to sleep. Maybe tomorrow,
it’ll be a future brother to life. And the sooner you learn that, the better.”
