The Influence (Supernatural Thriller)

  All the doctrine taught in this book by Sotare, the angel, is biblically accurate. This includes the teaching about God, sin, salvation, man’s nature, the fall, truth, judgment, and the person and work of Jesus.

  I took considerable license when talking about angels and demons fighting, their being injured, demonic forces “tweaking peoples’ minds,” and what happens after some characters die. The Bible says we continue on after death, but I took literary license to convey basic biblical themes of heaven and hell. I hope you enjoy this book.

  May the Lord be glorified in these pages.

  Matt Slick

  http://www.carm.org

  Chapter 1

  NEAR THE CEILING OF an immense, dark cavern, a tear in the fabric of space wrenched open and was followed by a twisting metal sound that echoed among the craggy walls. Below, jagged rocks littered the ground, some jutting upwards, others forming scattered crevices.

  Gray shadows shifted in distorted patterns, forced to flicker by the numerous fires that burned everywhere. A huge hole was in one end of “The Cavern.” It revealed a deep tunnel that swallowed any light and sound falling into its darkness.

  Between two large boulders heavy, green leathery creatures with twisted fangs and huge, bony heads huddled around a carcass. It had been gutted and dismembered and lay in disarray among the small fissures that scarred the floor. They snapped bones into shards and shoved them into their mouths and crunched them with their powerful jaws.

  On the higher ledges, buried in permanent shadows, dark creatures sat motionless. Only their red eyes moved as they surveyed the landscape and watched the others. They had huge twisted fangs, massive shoulders, and immense hind legs poised to lunge at any beast that ventured too close. Their large scales reflected dim flickers of firelight. They watched in quiet stillness.

  A shimmering whirlwind danced over a fire. It was a single entity comprised of thousands of insects. Only, they weren’t insects. They were smaller elements of the whole, a horde of tiny, twisted creatures with wings and legs that hummed in frantic swirls, moving, flying, and churning in unison. The whole mass reflected the ever-present firelight as it glided slowly over the rocks, creeping along the crevices, avoiding the flames and moving with an unknown purpose.

  Above the creatures flew the winged demons. They resembled human skeletons encased in tight leathery skin. They had long tails that cut through the air as they whipped back and forth. Deep black holes housed their yellow eyes. Their skin was dark brown, almost black in appearance, and they were flying towards the rip in space as they growled in mournful, threatening wails.

  One of them clawed the face of another. It responded by slashing at the wing of the first, sending it down into the rocks below to be mauled by whatever demons were nearest its fall. In a moment a third rose to take its place and fought with the one remaining. It used its wings to beat the first, thudding against its chest, punching, and growling. From below, yet another grabbed and clawed at the two, then another joined in, and another. They fought, screeching and tearing with feet and gripping talons. Cries of agony fell downward as wounded creatures tumbled into the blackness below.

  The battle raged until finally, two of them, one larger than the other, managed to thrust themselves into the rip, which instantly closed. The rest squawked angrily and began to glide back to the shadows below, snarling and spitting at each other on the way.

  The two creatures traveled through a tunnel of heat and light, carried along by the rushing, thunderous wind. They passively moved through the portal, absorbing the images and instructions which filled their minds. Suddenly, space ripped open and they were thrust into bright, blue light. The smaller one growled in pain and both instinctively shielded their eyes. With wings held open to stop their fall, they hovered in the air and waited for their sight to adjust. After a few seconds, the larger beast lashed out at the smaller, which ducked, turned, and raced away. The remaining demon hovered, looking around and gathering its bearings. It gurgled with a low, faint rumble.

  Below the creature, in a large garden, sat a man in a gazebo. He stared into the distance, lost in thought, unaware that hell itself had opened behind him and spat out a black-winged assassin.

  The creature hissed. Then, slowly, it glided earthward until it landed on the branch of one of two trees. It hissed again and leaned forward to examine the man as it let a low, rumbling growl fall earthward.

  The demon examined him, cocking its head from side to side. It studied its prey, the human victim that would soon join it in The Cavern. It folded its wings behind its back, leaned forward, and slowly slithered downward, as it wove its way through the tree branches.

  ***

  Kathy let her black hair blow gently in the air as she drove down the interstate. The rush of air felt good. With the window rolled down, the road noise was loud, but she didn’t mind. It was soothing.

  The wind threw a strand of hair between her lips. She pulled it away, then checked her lipstick in the mirror. Her green eyes were hidden by sunglasses, and her light complexion had only a few, small wrinkles creeping out from her eyes. She lowered her glasses for a moment and checked them.

  Kathy was an attractive 40-year-old woman who was a regular at the gym. Her light frame was well proportioned. At five foot six, she was energetic, fit, and healthy.

  She put her glasses back on and her thoughts turned to her father. He was a widower. A couple days ago he had to have emergency gall bladder surgery and now it seemed there was a complication. She didn’t understand exactly what it was, but the doctors said he’d probably need to be watched for a few days after he was released. That was the only reason she had dared to leave her husband, Mark, who had been showing serious signs of depression in the past few weeks. As she mechanically drove along the familiar interstate, she reviewed the series of events of the past few months.

  It began right after they had visited their son’s grave. Mark sat silently next to the headstone, fingering a blade of green grass he had casually ripped from the ground. He stared at the two dates engraved in the stone. “One year,” he had said to Kathy. “He only lived one year.”

  She reached out and let her soft hands form around his tense, strong shoulders. He didn’t respond. She knew this was a difficult time for him. So, she withdrew and slowly walked back to a cold cement bench at the edge of the grass. He needed to be alone for a while. She looked at her husband as she sat.

  Mark wore his dark hair short. Though his belly could have been a little flatter, at 42 he had managed to retain his slim, muscular build. He was about six feet tall and had a strong chin and hazel eyes. He wasn’t particularly handsome, but he was nice looking and had an attractive quality of self assurance that was gentle and consistent. It had made falling in love with him easy for Kathy.

  The wind brushed through some trees and slowly bent their shadows across the grave and onto Mark. The gentle sound of rustling leaves was all she could hear in this perfectly manicured cemetery. Nothing was out of place, including their pain.

  Though she still grieved over the loss of Jacob, she had somehow found a way to deal with it. She had managed to handle it, as much as any woman could who had endured the loss of a child. She still hurt, but she had learned to cope by talking to her close girlfriends and leaning on her loving husband. He had always been there for her. That is, until the past few weeks.

  Mark, on the other hand, was a man who always tried to appear self-reliant. He was the kind of person who was tough and strong, measuring himself by his accomplishments and his ability to stand strong under pressure. That is why he had become a civil engineer. He liked to solve problems, difficult ones, and his skill at d
oing so helped him to earn a reputation for getting things done. Kathy admired his strength and intelligence, but she also pitied him for them. She learned long ago that a person could fall in his strengths as well as his weaknesses.

  After a while, Kathy got up from the concrete bench and stepped onto the green softness and slowly walked back to him. Mark could hear her approach.

  He stiffened slightly. She could see him lift a hand to his eyes and then lower it. Kathy knelt down.

  “I miss him,” he said, still staring at the headstone.

  “I miss him, too,” she responded softly. She rested her head on his shoulder.

  Jacob had died unexpectedly in his crib seven years earlier, just before his first birthday. After tests and consultations, the doctors could offer no solid reason except to say that, unfortunately, this tragedy sometimes happens.

  They dealt with it in their own way. They cried a great deal and talked with friends. They even went to counseling, which seemed to help Kathy, but not Mark. He resisted talking to the counselor and after a while stopped going.

  Mark had been particularly bothered by not knowing why Jacob had died. He was a problem solver and not having a reason for Jacob’s sudden death gnawed at him. It eventually became a haunting misery. The only way he could deal with it was to ignore it, occasionally drink a little too much, and bury himself in his work.

  As time passed he would sometimes talk about Jacob’s death and tell Kathy how much it still bothered him. On more than one instance he told her that if only he knew why Jacob had died, then he would finally be at peace—and he wanted peace. That is why they hadn’t visited the grave in years; that is, until six months ago. He wanted to finally face his own pain and frustration. But their visit didn’t help. It made things worse.

  Kathy remembered how she and Mark were driving home from the gravesite. She saw his white knuckles as he gripped and repeatedly kneaded the steering wheel. He was flexing his jaw muscles constantly and occasionally he would exhale hard. She noticed he was driving too close to the car in front of him, but thought better of mentioning it.

  She had stared out the car window, let her mind wander, and imagined what it would be like if Jacob were alive. She was hurting, too, but it seemed that Mark was having a rougher time.

  After about twenty minutes, he broke the silence. “I really miss him,” he muttered.

  “I miss him, too,” she said gently.

  “If only I knew why he died. Maybe that would help me get over this.” He paused and then blurted out, “It tears me apart not knowing.” He gripped the steering wheel tightly and rolled his knuckles over the top again. “I thought this had passed. I mean, I thought I’d let it go enough to be able to deal with it.”

  Mark shook his head. “I never wanted to burden you with my problem.”

  “I know. But it’s okay,” she said tenderly.

  She studied his eyes. They were wet with tears. Mark was a good man, and she hated to see him like this. He was hurting and she wanted to comfort him. But there was nothing she could do except to be there.

  The visit had only served to rekindle Mark’s frustration. Why had Jacob died? Did he and Kathy do something wrong? Was there some purpose behind Jacob’s death? If so, what was it? Was some cosmic force at work? If there was a God, why did he let this happen? And the one thing that bothered him the most: why couldn’t they have any more children? It had taken them years to have Jacob and then afterwards, nothing. The doctors didn’t have any explanation since there wasn’t anything wrong with either of them. Kathy just never got pregnant.

  Mark was angry and the lack of answers made it worse. The wound of Jacob’s loss would not heal.

  Of course, Mark wasn’t the only one struggling. By visiting the grave and reflecting on how they couldn’t get pregnant, Kathy was once again reminded of the abortion she’d had while in college. The man who got her pregnant wanted nothing to do with her after he found out. He told her to get an abortion and turned a cold shoulder. So she turned to her girlfriends and they unanimously urged her to get rid of it. Her best friend at the time said it was an easy procedure that would solve her problem. She would only be aborting a “blob of cells, a fetus,” as she put it. All Kathy would be doing was “terminating an unplanned pregnancy.” After all, the fetus wasn’t human and it was her right to choose to do with her body what she wanted. After all, she wasn’t ready for children.

  Her friends were gentle and persistent. They subtly bad-mouthed the guy who had abandoned her and repeatedly pointed out that with the pressures of school, and the financial pressures of having a child, that it would be impossible for her to have a child. So, in the end, Kathy went through with the abortion.

  The doctor’s office was a sterile, clinical-smelling place that was over-air conditioned, and was staffed with nurses in colorful scrubs. They were nice enough people who seemed to care about her, at least superficially. Their rehearsed smiles made it all seem so terribly shallow. After filling out some forms, she had to sit in a flimsy hospital gown alone in a small room while she waited to be summoned. Kathy could remember the sadness she felt. She wanted to be a mom, but not right then. She rubbed her belly and stared at the fabric gown covering it. It was a small room with a picture of the ocean on a wall. The voices in the hall were muffled. She remembered staring at the floor, waiting.

  No one told her about the aftereffects. Over the years she couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt, and it slowly had gotten worse, especially since she couldn’t get pregnant now. She felt as if she had betrayed herself as well as the life in her womb. A pang of guilt and shame stabbed at her heart again as she remembered Jacob and the abortion.

  She shook the memory away and focused on some passing trees, then took a deep breath. She knew that the guilt she felt about her abortion never really got any better. It just became more distant.

  Kathy remembered what it was like to hold Jacob in her arms, to smell him, feel his soft skin, nurse him, and watch him look deeply back into her eyes. She had loved him so completely, so thoroughly. She was so fulfilled with him.

  Then he died. It was a horrible shock. Kathy found his lifeless body in the crib after his naptime was over. She had become hysterical and called Mark on the phone, screaming and sobbing. He rushed home.

  The trauma for both was unbearable. For weeks she secretly blamed herself, as if the abortion had some karma attached to it: a “life-for-a-life” type of thing, she thought. She had mentally beaten herself up constantly, wondering why she didn’t check on him one more time during his nap. Why hadn’t she suspected something? What happened to her mothering instincts? Was she a failure as a mother? What could she have done differently? Did Mark really somehow blame her even though he said he didn’t? The questions had no satisfying answers.

  She went to a counselor and talked to her friends. They wept with her and were always willing to listen. It took a while, but after several months she began to feel halfway normal.

  She remembered how during her recovery process she had once again brought up the abortion to Mark. She needed to process it once and for all. He shrugged it off. Of course, she had told him about it before they got married, but Mark didn’t want to talk about it. He got angry and yelled at her. He didn’t want to hear about her pregnancy by another man. As a result, she felt a little abandoned in a time when she was deeply hurt. If she had ever needed his strength, that was it. But, she had to accept the fact that he had his weaknesses like everyone else.

  Kathy shook her mind clear once again and focused on the road. She turned her thoughts to Mark’s present condition. About a week after their graveside visit, he had gone to a local New Age bookstore hoping to find information on God, divine purpose, reincarnation—anything that might give him answers since there were no medical ones. He bought several hardbacks and read them quickly. Though there were occasional wise sayings, most of it was too subjective. Then he went on the Internet and studied whatever he could find about life after death, angels
, and God. He devoured information on sudden infant death syndrome. He wanted answers and hoped he could stumble onto anything that would give him a clue. Nothing satisfied him.

  Then someone told him about the Universalist Life Church in town and how people there knew about purpose and meaning. They were nice, but they didn’t have any better answers. He quit going.

  “Church is just a social club,” he told Kathy. “I’m not interested in that crap. I need facts, not feelings.”

  Mark told her about two months ago that his drive to find answers was starting to become an obsession. He described it as a living thing, a parasite that was sapping the life out of him and that he couldn’t control. She knew he was right. He was not only becoming more frustrated after their visit to the grave, but his temper was getting shorter and his sense of humor had seemed to vanish.

  So, she very carefully suggested that he see a psychiatrist. Mark reacted in his predictable, negative way.

  “I don’t need to see a shrink,” he pronounced as he turned his back on her and walked away. She dropped it. But after two weeks he surprised her and said he was ready to get some professional counseling. They both went.

  The psychiatrist recommended that he take a vacation and prescribed some antidepressants to help him deal with things better. Mark scoffed at both ideas. Taking medicines to help him only made him feel weak. He was too much of a fighter, too much of a man to give in to this immature stupidity.

  “No, I don’t need a vacation,” he told Kathy sternly. “What I need are answers. I just need more time. I can handle this.”

  She knew he was suffering. But she also knew it was getting in the way of their marriage. She was tired, too. She wanted all the despair and tumult to be gone so she could get back to loving Mark. After all, it was having an effect on her as well and she was beginning to put up a protective wall around herself. She didn’t like it.

  So here she was, driving down the long freeway, letting her eyes mindlessly focus on the gray lanes ahead of her, oblivious to the passing blur of green trees that marked an increasing distance between them. There was nothing she could do right now. Her father was in the hospital and needed her.