A Deafening Silence In Heaven - Thomas E. Sniegoski Page 0,127

particularly special about the man, but for some reason, Lazarus could not look away. He watched the man ring the buzzer on the side of the doorway, wait a few moments, and then push open the door to disappear inside the building.

And then Lazarus noticed the song that was playing on the radio, and things started to make a strange sort of sense. Mick Jagger was singing, “Please allow me to introduce myself / I’m a man of wealth and taste. . . .”

Lazarus chuckled, raising the last of his cappuccino to his mouth and finishing it off. Then he wiped the foam from his lips and stood.

“Thanks, come again,” the young man said, as Lazarus headed for the door.

“No, thank you.” Lazarus smiled, leaving the coffee shop, closing the door on the strains of the Rolling Stones’ “Sympathy for the Devil.”

He crossed the street and stopped in front of the brownstone; like many old Boston buildings, it seemed to house a small business on the first floor and apartments above.

A UPS truck pulled up behind him with a chill-inducing screech of brakes, and Lazarus immediately climbed the steps to the front door of the building. The delivery driver, carrying a small package, joined him a few moments later, and Lazarus stepped aside politely, allowing him access to the buzzers.

“Yes?” answered a voice.

“UPS delivery,” the man said.

“Come on up,” said the cheerful voice, and the door buzzed loudly, the driver pushing open the door into the lobby.

Lazarus followed, all the while giving off a level of confidence that said he belonged. He lingered on the first floor while the driver headed up the stairs. From what he could see, the level belonged entirely to a small men’s clothing and tailor shop, and he perused a window display of some new shirt-and–silk tie combinations. Sauntering over to the door, he peered inside. It was quiet, and he wasn’t even sure if the establishment was open yet, when an older gentleman with a tape measure around his neck suddenly appeared from the back and approached. Lazarus quickly turned and began to walk away.

“The person you’re looking for is inside,” he heard the man call from behind him.

Lazarus slowly turned.

“He’s inside,” the man said, holding the door open and gesturing to the back of the store. “Right this way.” He left the door open and headed for the back of the store again, as if he expected Lazarus would follow.

Cautiously, Lazarus entered the store, carefully closing the door behind him. The man had already disappeared into the back, but Lazarus could hear voices in conversation and found himself drawn to them.

In the back of the small store, a series of three mirrors had been set up in front of a raised pedestal. On the pedestal stood the man Lazarus had seen enter the brownstone, his image reflected three times, from three positions, as the tailor prepared to take his measurements.

“Are you looking for me?” the man asked.

Lazarus wasn’t sure what he had been expecting from the man, but he was certain that it was something more . . . menacing. “I am,” he replied.

The man lifted his arms while keeping his eyes upon Lazarus’ reflection in the mirror directly in front of him. “So, what is it I can do for you, Lazarus?”

Lazarus was a bit taken aback. “You know who I am?”

“I do. I also know who you’ve been working for of late.”

Lazarus did not respond to that.

After the Apocalypse had been averted, he’d found himself washed out to sea, suffering death and resurrection multiple times before finally being pulled from the grip of the Atlantic Ocean by a fishing boat off of Newfoundland. Feeling truly lost, he’d attempted to drown himself in alcohol, but one night while asleep in a freezing alley in Nova Scotia, he was awakened by an old man who was so much more than that.

An old man who promised forgiveness and final death if Lazarus was to serve Him faithfully.

How do you say no to God?

“I’m guessing you have a message for me?” the man prompted.

“I do, but . . .” Lazarus’ eyes darted to the tailor, who had wrapped his tape measure around the man’s throat to measure his neck size.

“You’re worried about Donahan here.” The man smiled, and for a moment Lazarus wasn’t sure that he’d ever seen anyone quite so—beautiful.

“Well,” Lazarus stammered.

“You needn’t worry,” the man reassured him. “Donahan was one of my soldiers during the war. He’s been doing penance here on Earth