Ray Comfort's Blog, page 33

Amazing Grace

He looked directly at Jerry with the same piercing look that Mr. von Ludendorff gave him in his nightmares, and asked,

"Have you ever done that?" Jerry tried to hide the fact that his mouth was dry and his heart was pounding in his chest. He rubbed his chin self‑consciously and said,

"Yes . . . once or twice." The minister then looked even more intently at him and said,

"Jerry, by your own admission, you are a lying, thieving, adulterer at heart, and you have to face God on Judgment Day . . . and we have only looked at three of the Ten Commandments. There are another seven you have to answer to, about blasphemy, greed, hatred, murder, honoring your parents and giving to God what is rightly His in the area of worship, etc. On Judgment Day, if God was to judge you by the standard of His Law, do you think you would be innocent or guilty?"

He didn't hesitate to answer,

"Guilty."

"Well, do you think you will go to Heaven or Hell?" The answer was quick and positive:

"Heaven!"

"Why? Is it because you think God is 'good' and therefore will overlook your sins?"

Jerry nodded in agreement with such a thought. He was pleased that Edwin had been able to articulate as to why he thought that he should go to Heaven. His only hope was that God would understand his mistakes, but it seemed that the Reverend didn’t want to leave the conversation there.

"If a rapist and murderer expects a judge to overlook his crimes because he thinks that the judge is a 'good' man, he will probably hear him answer such a presumption with, 'You are right about one thing. I am a good man, and it is because of my goodness that I am going to see that you are punished, and brought to justice.'

"Those who are hoping that God's goodness will overlook their sins, will find that the very thing they are trusting in to save them will be the thing that will condemn them and send them to Hell."

Edwin then closed his Bible as if to say, I rest my case. He stood to his feet and walked around his desk as if to close the conversation. Jerry felt like saying, "Don't leave me like this," but instead, he too rose to his feet and as they walked toward the door he asked the minister,

"What do you think I should do?" As they stood at the doorway he said,

"Jerry, you know the Gospel; that Christ died to save us. You know that He took the punishment for our sins. We broke the Law; He paid the fine. That means that God can now legally dismiss our case. He can commute our death sentence and let us live. You also know that He rose from the dead. But you need to ask God to give you understanding as to what that means, and you need to repent and put your faith in the Savior."

Then he stopped speaking as though he had thought of some better way to illustrate what he had just said.

"Jerry . . . it's like a man who found himself deeply in debt. He was utterly without hope. There was no way that he could pay his creditors. The law was about to take its fearful course, when a rich friend extended grace toward him and paid his debt in full. It was actually the law that drove him to grace. If the law hadn't pressured him, he wouldn't have sought help from his friend. Can you understand that?" The old minister smiled gently, then quoted a hymn that he loved to sing,

"‘It was grace that taught my heart to fear, and grace my fears relieved.’ Those are the words of a hymn the world sings—Amazing Grace, but it seems they have no depth of understanding as to what the words actually mean.

"When the Christian looks at the terrible price that the Law demanded--the suffering death of the Messiah, it horrifies him. Grace provided the payment, and it was at terrible cost. The Bible puts it this way: ‘Pass the sojourning here in fear; forasmuch as you know that you were not redeemed with silver and gold . . . but with the precious blood of Christ."

Jerry thought about the day the officers of the law drove him to Theodore’s house and how Grace welcomed him, and took him to Theodore who paid his debt in full. He could understand what the Bible was saying, more than the minister knew.

"Jeremiah, God's wrath abides upon every person who has transgressed His Commandments. If the Law is allowed to take its fearful course on the Day of Judgment, its sentence will be eternal Hell. It's the knowledge of our true state--that we are in big trouble, that drives us to the Gospel of grace.

"Our salvation was no small thing. When Jesus suffered on the Cross, He paid the fine with His own life's blood. Just as the friend showed that his love was more than mere lip service by paying the debt, so the Cross is an evident expression of God's love and grace toward you and me. But these are just empty words until God reveals the truth of them to you."

To be continued...

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I’m really not a bad person?

It was three months since his beloved wife's passing. Once again Jerry sat in Edwin's home, but this time it was in the minister's study. The walls of the small room were covered with books; hundreds of books about God and the Bible. After a little small talk about such an impressive collection, Jerry said,

"Edwin, I know I can be open with you. Since Connie died . . . well, even though I made a 'decision' some time ago, I seem to have lost faith in God. In fact, I haven't prayed in weeks. I feel bitter that He let her die. I wouldn't have bothered to come back and see you except for the fact that last night I had a dream that I have had a number of times since the war. In it, a minister keeps pointing to me, out of all the people in the room, and accusing me of different things. I'm confused as to what I'm supposed to do. One thing I do know, I can't go on as before; living in blind faith as though everything was all right. Not only that, I'm not sure of the Bible. Connie would read it all the time but I had no desire to . . . "

Edwin had a gentle firmness in his voice as he said,

"Oh, being a Christian isn’t a matter of 'blind faith.' The world thinks that that is what is required, but it is not true.

"Seeing as you mentioned it, let's look at the Bible for a moment and see if you can be 'sure' of its authenticity. It was written over a period of 3,000 years by as many as fifty different authors; from kings to fishermen, and yet there is incredible consistency throughout the whole of Scripture. Take for instance how God said of the Jews in Deuteronomy, that if they obeyed Him and kept His Law they would have His blessings of long life, health and prosperity. However, if they disobeyed Him and became godless, giving themselves to idolatry which would lead to all types of sexual sin, greed, corruption, etc., He would allow them to be delivered into the hands of their enemies, so that, as a nation, they would be humbled and seek Him once again. This happened time and time again throughout the Old Testament, and has continued to happen right up until this present day.

"One interesting consistency is that the number forty is God's number of deliverance. The Old Testament and the New Testament harmonize in this. In fact, in Chapter Seven of the Book of Acts, Stephen mentions that God delivered Moses from Egypt when he was 40 years old. Then He waited 40 years before He used Him to deliver Israel from Egypt. He also says that the Jews were in the wilderness for 40 years before God delivered them into the land of Canaan. This is unwavering--right throughout scripture, attesting to the fact that only God could have inspired such unerring consistency, and it's only one example of literally hundreds of perfect harmonies of numerical symmetry. That alone should convince an honest skeptic to at least set aside his doubts for a moment."

He stopped his mini-sermon for a moment and smiled at the thought of an "honest skeptic" because they were so few and far between, then said,

"But there are also many infallible prophecies which have been perfectly fulfilled such as the Jews getting Jerusalem back in 1967, something God had promised thousands of years previous. But there is something else you need to hear."

Jerry sat up in his seat and said,

"I don't doubt God's existence. What bothers me is the fact that I keep having this dream telling me I need to repent! I don't get it; I’m really not a bad person?"

The old minister leaned forward in his chair a little and said,

"Jerry, you've been candid with me so I trust you will let me be direct with you. Let me ask you a question. Have you obeyed the Ten Commandments?" Jerry smiled and said,

"No, I have broken one or two . . . but who hasn't? What I am more concerned with is the fact that God allowed my wife to get cancer, then He let her die . . . where’s the justice in that?" Edwin seemed to ignore that remark. He said,

"Well, let's look at God's Law for a moment and see how you do. How many lies do you think you have told in your whole life?"

In a flash Jerry thought of his childhood in Texas, his years in German, then the lies he told in England and those he told to Connie, when he was committing adultery. "Quite a few. But who hasn't lied. I think we are all guilty?"

"What does that make you?" asked the good minister.

"A sinner, I guess." The next statement made him shuffle in his seat­,

"Yes, but more specifically . . . a liar. Have you ever stolen something, even if it's small?" Jerry said he had.

"What does that make you?" "A thief, " came the answer.

The Reverend’s eyes twinkled as he said, “No. It makes you a lying thief.” He then looked at the Bible he had opened on his lap and read:

"You have heard that it was said by them of old time, Thou shalt not commit adultery: But I say unto you, That whosever looketh on a woman to lust after her hath committed adultery in his heart."
To be continued...

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Chapter Nineteen: The Number Forty

The conversation with Edwin shattered a lifetime of Jerry's philosophy. He couldn't argue with the simple fact that everything made had a maker. There wasn't a thing on the face of the earth that he could say didn't have some sort of maker; whether it was his car, his TV, his shoes, his belt, his telephone, his couch or his house. All around him were flowers, birds, trees, and thousands of different animals; things infinitely more complex than anything man had made. He felt stupid that he had thought himself to be "intellectual" in his atheistic beliefs. He had also found an adequate answer as to the next obvious question—Who made God? That one was reasonably simple. God is eternal. He dwells outside of the dimension of “time” that He created.

A few days after this, at the insistence of his dying wife, Jeremiah asked Jesus Christ to be his Lord and Savior and began to attend church each Sunday until the time of Connie's death.
To be continued...

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You’re not an atheist

After the meeting, the venerable minister invited the couple home for lunch. After the meal, the women washed the dishes and Jerry and the Reverend retired into the living room, something Jerry had hoped would happen. He wanted to test the man's faith, without hurting Connie's feelings or seeming rude.

As they sat on the soft lounge chairs, he picked up a cup of coffee, stirred it slowly and said,

"Reverend, would you mind if I ask you a few questions about …about 'God,' and His existence? I'm an educated man and I tend to lean toward atheism, so I would like you to tell me why you have a belief in a Creator when there is so much evidence in the other direction." Reverend Smalley smiled and said "I would be happy to try and answer any questions, if will you stop calling me Reverend. I’m Edwin."

Jerry continued,

"Sure. Here’s my question. I can understand why Connie suddenly wanted to come to church. Death is a very scary thing and that's when 'faith' comes in handy. My own father prayed when the Nazis were heading for Poland. I spent four years fighting with the French resistance, and I would be a liar if I said that I never prayed when things were tough. But that's my point, when things get difficult, we all need to look to 'God' or the bottle--something to pull us through.

“I remember praying once and even being convinced that God answered my prayer, but I was backed into a corner and couldn't do anything but pray. I’m sure what I then thought was an answer to prayer, was nothing but a coincidence.

"Then there is actual evidence against the existence of God. First, there is the ever-present issue of suffering. If a God of love existed, He wouldn't allow it. What father would let his children starve to death, as we have seen happen in China in years past? Or what father would let his child suffer with cancer when he could easily cure him, as in the case of Connie?

"Second, what proof is there for His existence anyway? You can't hear Him, see Him, touch Him, taste Him or smell Him. All I ever hear when it comes to God is, 'You've got to have faith.' Well, I'm sorry Reverend . . . uh Edwin . . . I don't want 'faith,' I want good hard concrete evidence."

Jerry sipped his coffee, then put his cup to one side, shuffled a little in his seat and said,

"I must say I feel a little uncomfortable. Here I am a guest in your house, and I guess I have shaken your faith a little."

To his surprise, Edwin didn't look one bit shaken. He smiled politely and said,

"I had exactly the same sentiments for years. If I gave you a book, would you take the time to read it and get back to me with your thoughts? It's about atheists. It's called, God Doesn't Believe in Atheists. If you take the ti . . . "

Jerry lifted up his hand before he could finish his sentence and said,

"I really don't think it will help." The minister smiled in that he had uncovered the fact that Jerry wasn't asking questions at all, but merely airing his beliefs. He said,

"So, you are pretty sure of your facts?" Jerry was quick to respond,

"Sure? To be quite honest, I haven't begun to bring out all the other evidence to support atheism--the fact of evolution—you can’t argue with science, the hypocrisy in the Church, the hateful doctrine of Hell, and the fact that Hitler was a Christian. " Reverend Smalley leaned forward a little and said,

"May I ask you a couple of questions?"

"Why not? Go ahead" Jerry retorted confident that he could handle anything the minister had.

"Look at my house. See the windows, the door frames, the interior paneling, the wallpaper, the electrical wiring, the tiles on the roof, etc. If I asked you if there was a builder, what would you say to me?"

Jerry's face revealed that he thought the question to be absurd and his tone carried a slight impatience as he said,

"The building exists; therefore there must be a builder. Buildings don’t make themselves. I don’t see your point."

Edwin said,

"But I can't see him, hear him, touch, taste or smell him. What actual proof is there that he exists?"

Jerry shuffled in his seat and quietly said,

"The building."

"What then would you think of my mental capacity if I told you that there was no evidence that there was a builder? What would you think of my intellect, if I said to you that I really believed that this house; with all the concrete, nails, glass, door frames, paneling, etc., happened by pure chance, by accident?"

Suddenly, it seemed like a light switched on in Jerry's head. He thought for a moment and said, "I would think that you were a fool."

“Here’s the second question. As an atheist, you believe that nothing created everything . . . a scientific impossibility?” Jerry didn’t answer. “You can’t truly believe that creation, or as a professing atheist you may call it “Nature,” made itself. This is because if it made itself, it had to pre-exist befor it made itself to be able to have the ability to make itself. So, you are stuck with the scientific impossibility of believing that nothing created everything.”

Jeremiah rubbed his chin thoughtfully, and said, “No, I don’t believe that. Obviously something created everything, I just be;lieve that it was God, and particularly not the ‘Christian’ God.”

“So Jeremiah, you’re not an atheist. You are what’s called an ‘agnostic.’ You believe that there was or is some sort of creative force. “
To be continued...

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Chapter Eighteen: Educated Man

The money from Theodore Lawson put Jerry back on his feet. Over the next few years, the economy improved and the casinos picked up. Life for Jeremiah P. Adamson became sweet once again. His relationship with Connie even improved a little, but he never confided in her of the depth of financial trouble. Nor did she ever find out about the Mob's little visit. Still, even with what they had been through, the marriage lacked the closeness it once had.

That was one of the reasons Jerry found it easier to travel on business trips. Back in Otley he hated leaving Connie even to go into town for half a day, but now the trips gave him more of a chance to appreciate life and meet other people; especially intelligent, attractive women.

One night after returning from a business trip to Vegas, he had a nightmare that began with him and his father running out of the back door as Nazis fired shots at them. This time, however, instead of running ahead when his father was shot, he stopped and lifted him up. Then he found himself once again in the von Ludendorff s home with the penetrating eyes of the preacher staring at him. Again he kept hearing the question,

"Do you know the mystery of Christ?"

Then he glared at Jerry and said,

"Adulterers will not inherit the Kingdom of God!" Jerry tried to hide behind the person in front of him, but the preacher stepped to one side and pointed directly at him and said again,

"Adulterers God will judge."

Jerry stood to his feet and cried out,

"No…I'm sorry!"

But the preacher took no notice. Jerry began to weep and say,

"Please…I'm sorry for what I have done!"

Just then he felt someone touch his shoulder, and he heard a soothing English voice say,

"It's okay honey--you are having a nightmare."

Jerry sat up in bed, looked at Connie, and then looked around him as though he didn't believe her. Sweat was dripping from his brow and his bedclothes were soaking wet. He looked down at his hands that were shaking even though he was wide-awake. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest and his breathing labored as if he had just run up some steep stairs.

Connie stared at the fear in his face and said,

"That must have been some nightmare. " Jerry looked straight ahead and said,

"I don't know what's happening to me. I have had horrible dreams about the war, but they have never been like this one. With this one I keep ending up at the von Ludendorff s house." He turned to face Connie, and with the expression of a small child told her about the dream, minus the verse about adultery. The next night he dreamed again that he was at the Bible study. This time the preacher said,

"Murderers will not inherit the Kingdom of God." Jerry stood to his feet and said,

"I am not a murderer. I have only killed in war."

But the preacher looked at him with a piercing gaze and said,

"God knows how many people you killed when you could have let them go. He saw how many you slaughtered merely because they were Germans. You hated them. You are no different than the Nazis!"

Again Jerry began mumbling incoherently in his sleep and was wakened, dripping with sweat. Again Connie soothed his fears and held his hand until the fear had passed. It was in those times he felt a glimmer of the love he had had for her in the early days of their marriage.

One afternoon Connie returned from the doctor looking quite pale. Earlier in the week she had discovered a lump in her left breast and went to the local hospital to have it checked out.

Suddenly Jerry was the one holding her hand as she told him the lump was malignant. As gently as the doctor could, he informed her that she had a maximum of six months to live. Jerry held her in his arms and they both wept.

From that day on, Connie began to read a Bible that someone had given her, and it wasn't long until she was regularly going to church. After a few weeks Jerry decided to go with her, just for moral support. It was an old, cold, brick Methodist church building that had a warm interior. The elderly minister and the people showed the Adamsons nothing but love and encouragement.

Despite the fact that he went to church, and despite his prayer at the fire in England, Jerry still quietly leaned towards atheism, although for Connie's sake he never mentioned it. His thought was that we create a higher power, or a God--call it what you will‑‑in times of crisis. With a cold objectivity, he remembered the circumstances in which he had prayed when his daughter had stopped breathing. The incident confirmed his belief--in his time of weakness he had called upon a greater power. This was a natural inclination for the human species. This was what was happening with Connie, and he hoped that her faith would help her through her pains. With Connie’s gentle encouragement, he was also able to curb using God’s name in vain. This wasn’t easy because it had rolled off his tongue for so many years, he didn’t even know he was doing it.

To be continued...

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"Welcome home, son."

A thin‑face but clean-shaven young man stood at the opened door of his parents’ house a little north of Royse City. This time he didn't just walk in. Johnny looked at both his beloved mom who was standing by the door, and his father who was looking over a newspaper in his hands. He looked directly at his father and said,

"Dad, I would like to come home . . . if you will have me." Jerry was stunned. He put the paper down, stood to his feet, embraced him, something he hadn't done for years, and said,

"Welcome home, son."

Johnny poured his heart out to his parents. He confessed that he had stolen, taken drugs; that he had been a fool to waste his life as he did. Then he turned to his father and said,

"Dad, more than anything else, I feel bad that Granddad’s gun was stolen. You have had it since the war, and I know how much it meant to you."

Jerry smiled,

"Son, that gun means nothing to me compared to you. An old friend told me what you were doing to yourself, and I thought we had lost you. I don't care what you've done, you are still alive and that's all that matters."

The next evening Johnny's mouth dropped open as he sat in the living room. Once again, he couldn't believe what he had just seen on television. Lee Harvey Oswald, the man accused of assassinating the President, had been shot to death, and a newsman caught the incident on film. He leaned forward and glared at the slow motion replay . . . at the man with the gun and the black‑rimmed hat and hollered,

"I know that man. That's Jack Ruby! He is the owner of the nightclub where…"

Johnny stopped mid-sentence as the anchor man came back on the scene, and gave details on how the Dallas strip‑club owner had walked down a ramp with fifty reporters and had suddenly shot and killed Lee Harvey Oswald as he was being transported by police to a bullet‑proof van. Then the newscaster said,

"Ruby used a snub‑nosed gun which fired a .38 caliber bullet and pierced Oswald's left side."
To be continued...

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The voice said...

The happenings of that day dazed Johnny. He didn't eat, he didn't drink, and neither did he give any thought to his heroin habit. That night he walked slowly to the bathroom and looked into the mirror. The assassination had had a sobering effect on him, confronting him with the transient nature of this life. One moment a man was smiling and waving at crowds, and the next moment he was dead! It was then that he remembered what he once heard‑‑that life is just a dash between two dates on a head stone.

He stared into the mirror at his unshaven face. He was 18 years old yet he looked like an old man. His cheeks were sunken because of a lack of good nutrition, and his eyes looked like a road map, with dark lines under them.

He whispered,

"What am I doing with my life!" Deep in thought, he walked back to his room and picked up his still‑opened notebook from the bed, and began to read the poem he had written only days before. But as he read it, it was as though he could hear a sinister voice speak to him through it. The voice said:



Behold my friend! I am heroin,

Known by all as destroyer of men,

From whence I came no one knows,

A far‑off land where the poppy grows.



I came to this country without getting caught,

And since that day I've been hunted and sought,

Whole nations have gathered to plot my destruction,

They call me the breeder of crime and corruption.



More potent than whisky, more deadly than wine,

Yes I am the scourge of all mankind!

My little white grains are nothing but waste,

I'm soft and fluffy‑‑but bitter to taste.



I'm white, I'm brown, but deadly to use,

For once you're addicted, I really abuse,

I'm known in China, Iraq and Iran,

I'm welcome in Turkey and I've been to Japan.



In cellophane bags I make my way,

To men in office and children at play,

From heads of state to lowest bum,

From richest estate to lowest slum.



I take a rich man and make him poor,

Take a maiden and make her a whore,

Make a beautiful woman forget her looks,

And make the student forget his books.



I can make you steal, borrow and beg,

Then search for a vein in your arm or your leg,

I'm known to the selfish and those filled with greed,

All faceless regardless of religion or creed.



My gift is illusion, my blessing is fake,

Death and destruction follow in my wake,

I'm the kiss of death to all who I touch,

I start as a gift and remain as a crutch.



My friends are many but I'm loyal to none,

I come to destroy and my work must be done,

Some think of me as merely a toy,

But wise men know I maim and destroy.



Run from me if you wish‑‑I will never give chase,

For sooner or later you'll return for your taste,

Once in your bloodstream you'll think me not mean,

You'll praise me as master, then nod in a dream.



You've heard my warning but will take no heed,

Put your foot in the stirrup‑‑mount this great steed,

Get right in the saddle and hold on real well,

For the white horse 'heroin' will take you to Hell.


To be continued.

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President Kennedy has been shot!

In the drawer he read a scribbled note. All it said was,

"You owe me!"

The next day Johnny woke up wishing he hadn't. Not only did he feel nauseated, but he also felt a little and frustrated. Darlene was going to have an abortion and there was nothing he could do about it. He pulled the covers back, sat on the edge of his bed and stared at the calendar on the wall. It was November 22, 1963. He had written on it that today was the day he had to collect $200 from one of his dealers and give half of it to Lips. But he could hardly gather the enthusiasm to do anything, even though he had slept in his clothes and didn't need to dress. He rolled back into bed and went back to sleep.

Around eleven he woke up and fumbled with a packet of cigarettes that he had left beside the bed. His nicotine-stained fingers trembled as he struck a match, and then took a deep breath of smoke. He sighed loudly as he exhaled, and at the same time picked up a notebook he kept by his bed. In it were a few addresses and about a dozen depressing poems he had written about life. One was penned a few days earlier after a deal fell through and he began to withdraw. It was called "Heroin." The poem seemed to flow from his pen as he wrote.

Just after noon he got out of bed, walked into his living room and turned on a huge old television that was obviously too heavy for Darlene to steal. Then he slowly walked into the kitchen to make some strong black coffee.

He never finished making that drink. From the kitchen he heard words that sent shivers down his spine:

"President Kennedy has been shot! I repeat, the President of the United States has been shot . . . "

Johnny rushed into the room hoping it was some sort of sick joke, and sat on an old couch in front of the TV.

A man stood with a microphone, directly in front of Parkland Hospital and said,

"Just after noon shots were fired at the President's motorcade as it drove through the streets of Dallas." The reporter stopped speaking for a moment and looked slightly to one side. He began again,

"I have just been . . ." His voice cracked with emotion. He composed himself and said again, " . . . I have just been informed that President John F. Kennedy has been pronounced dead. He was killed today, just after noon by an assassin's bullet. It happened as he was being driven through Dallas to the sound of cheering crowds. Suddenly, shots rang out and stunned the masses as the 46‑year‑old president crumpled in the seat of an open limousine. We have also been informed that Governor John B. Connally Jr. of Texas, who was riding in the same car as the Kennedys, was severely wounded in the chest, ribs and arm."

Johnny sat glued to the television for the rest of the day as the media kept the public informed about the assassination. Some time later, they reported that police had arrested Lee Harvey Oswald and charged him with the murder.

To be continued.

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Gone!

The next day, Johnny sold his near new car for about a quarter of what it was worth. When that money was gone, he stole a car from a parking lot three blocks from his apartment and sold it the same night to someone at the club.

When Lips found out that he had hot‑wired an auto, he advised him on ways to raise some cash without so much risk. He told him that it was far easier and less perilous to unload electrical goods through the nightclub, rather than a stolen car. He said that one of the best times he found to lift goods was on Sunday mornings. He smiled as he said,

"Almost every houth ith empty becauth people are at church!" When Lips needed cash for his habit, he would carry a bunch of fake circulars in his hand and go door to door. It was easy to check if anyone was home. He said that many religious people didn't even bother to lock their doors, so he would just go right on in and take cash and things that were small enough to hide under his jacket.

But Lips had a better suggestion for Johnny. He could work for him, selling smack. He said that it was real easy and the money was good enough to support his habit and give him a very comfortable life. What's more, he would trust him with credit with the first shipment, and give him his own risk-free territory. Johnny could take over the college district, where there were no worries about undercover narcotic agents. He said that it was an easy market. All he had to do was befriend some prospective buyers by showing them a little porn, gain their trust, then give them their first hit free…and they will be back for more. He laughed and said,

"It's sthoooo good to be able to have that thort of confidenth in your product!"

Two weeks later, Darlene walked up to Johnny as he sat at the club. She would normally have crept up behind him and rubbed his shoulders or stroked his hair, but this night she simply called him to a corner table. He sat down opposite her and said,

"What's wrong? I haven't seen you for three weeks!"

She frowned and said,

"I need $600 quickly. I'm pregnant. If I don't get rid of this, Jack will fire me."

Johnny was stunned. It was the last thing he expected to hear. Also, he didn't like her "If I don't get rid of this" attitude. As far as he was concerned this was a potential child she was speaking about, and there was no way he was going to pay for an abortion. He reached out, put his hand on hers and gently said,

"Darlene, I care about you. I also care about our kid."

Darlene winced as though he had just slapped her face. At the same time she pulled her hand from under his. Her voice became a little louder,

"Don't be stupid. I told you that Jack won't like this!"

She then rose from the table and walked away.

Later that night when Johnny returned to his apartment, the door was unlocked. Darlene was the only other person with a key, so he hoped that she had changed her mind about the abortion and was waiting for him inside. When he opened his door and walked through the small apartment, he found that she wasn't there. Neither was the new stereo he had lined up for sale the following day. He rushed to his room and opened the drawer where she knew he kept his cash. The $400 he had left there was gone. So was his .38.

To be continued.

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Chapter Seventeen: Risk‑free Territory

A month had passed since Johnny put the first shot of heroin into his arm. In one month he had been fired from his job, and secured another one. This one was selling heroin. After his first hit, he found his friend Lips, and spent every penny he had on some more heroin, then raised money for the next week's supply by making another visit to his dad. He borrowed $500 by lying about wanting to fix his car. When that ran out he became involved in something he never thought he would stoop to--theft.

He picked up his grandfather’s short‑barrelled .38 and drove to a suburb of Dallas.

It was late at night. No one was around as he peered into a liquor store. Johnny sat in the parking lot for over an hour watching an Oriental man undo boxes, and then stack cigarettes and other things onto the shelves. At one stage, there were no customers for more than 40 minutes.

Johnny decided that he would wait until midnight, then rob the store. His hands were shaking as he checked the gun to make sure it was loaded. He removed the safety catch, opened the car door, got out and cased the area. Not a soul in sight. He tucked the gun into his belt and partly zipped up his black leather jacket. Even though he felt terrified at what he was about to do, there was a sense of excitement, both in the robbery itself and in the fact that by morning he would have enough smack in his hands to last him a month.

As he quietly pushed open the door, the man behind the counter greeted him, then carried on stacking his shelves. Johnny nodded and walked to the back of the store as though he was looking for something special.

Minutes later he burst towards the terrified man. Holding the .38 in both hands he yelled,

"I don't want to hurt you! I need money now! Give me everything you have in the cash register and I promise you won't be harmed!" The frightened man moved quickly and gave him everything in the cash register, then, without being told to, put his trembling hands in the air. Johnny then said,

"If you move from here, I will have to come back and shoot you!" As Johnny quickly moved towards the door, he stopped, turned towards the paralyzed man and said,

"I'm sorry . . . "

He felt physically sick as he drove home, partly because he was beginning to withdraw from the heroin, and partly because he couldn't get the image of the man's terrified eyes out of his mind.

When he arrived at his apartment, he pulled the wad of bills from his pocket and counted them. His heart sank as he totaled the cash and found that they were all one-dollar bills with an occasional five, two tens and a twenty. Everything he had gone through that night yielded a mere $86.


To be continued.

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