Free The Killing Vision by Will Overby Page B

folks.” He followed her toward the murmuring group, and
nearly jumped a foot when she clapped her hands and said loudly, “All right,
everyone, your attention, please.”  They were all looking at him now, he
noticed, but not in puzzlement; they seemed to already know why he was there. 
“Everyone, I’d like you to meet Joel.  He’s the one I told you about.”
    They all greeted him, and Deb introduced them one by
one in a flurry of names and faces he knew he would never remember.  There was
a young blonde girl who appeared to be in her late teens, and an old gentleman
who looked at least eighty; everyone else fit somewhere in between, and seemed
to come from all ethnic backgrounds and social circles.  Deb introduced the
priest last, a distinguished looking pudgy man with thick gray hair and blue
eyes.  “This is Father Michael.  He’s not a sensitive himself, but he lets us
use the church’s facilities for our meetings.”
    Father Michael nodded to him.  “Good to meet you,
Joel.  I think you’ll find everyone here is friendly and accommodating.” 
    Gradually, everyone drifted back into their own
conversations, and Joel moved to take a seat at the table next to Father
Michael.  “So how did a priest get involved in something like this?” he said.
    Father Michael smiled.  “Deb’s one of my flock,” he
said.  “I’ve known of her gift for years, knew her struggle with accepting it. 
When she found a few others like herself, I encouraged her to start a group. 
They met at her house at first, but as more and more people became involved,
she knew she had to have a larger place.  I told her to feel free to use the
church’s activity center.”
    “That was nice.”
    Father Michael shrugged.  “Whole purpose of having
the place.”
    “So do you come here just to keep an eye on things
or what?”
    “I have a real interest in it, in what the
old-timers call ‘second sight.’  I believe that it truly is a gift, though I
understand the people who have it would tend to disagree.”
    “Yeah,” Joel said.  “Myself included.”
    “Now, you take Joseph over there,” Father Michael
said, pointing toward the old man Joel had noticed earlier.  “When he was a
young man, his family was convinced he was a demon.  Or that he’d been touched
by Satan.  They were scared to death of him.  Especially after…” The priest
looked away.
    “What?”
    Father Michael looked back at him abruptly.  “Did
you ever hear of the big train disaster here in Springfield?  Happened in ’twenty-five
or ’twenty six.”
    Joel nodded.  Everyone knew that story.  How a
locomotive had jumped the track one sunny April morning and plowed right
through Springfield Elementary School, completely demolishing the building.  No
one had even been scratched; all the students and teachers had gone to the town
common for a picnic that day and the school had been empty.
    “Joseph had organized the picnic downtown,” said
Father Michael.  “He knew something was going to happen that day.  Saw it in a
dream.”
    “Really?”  Joel looked at the man now, just a frail,
little man dressed in a natty sports jacket and droopy trousers.
    “I’m convinced,” the priest continued, “that God
used Joseph’s ability that day to save those people.”
    Joel stared at the wall, thinking about the train
that had snuffed out the lives of his mother and stepfather.  If he had known,
if he could have seen, would he have warned them?  Would he have kept them
alive, even though it would have meant who knew how many more years of violent
abuse from Clifton?  He didn’t know; it was just a dead end question.  Like
what would have happened had the school been full.  “What’s the point?” he
said.
    Father Michael looked at him.  “Excuse me?”
    “What was the point of giving Joseph a vision, of
making him responsible?”
    “I’m not sure what you mean.”
    “If God could do that, then why not just keep the
train