Free March Into Hell by M.P. McDonald Page B

Mark paused, feeling a lump rise in his throat as he remembered his near breakdown. "I...ah..." He swallowed the catch in his voice. "I finally said I just knew." Mark tried to chuckle but the sound, when it finally squeezed past the lump, was harsh. "Pretty quick thinking on my part, don't ya think?"
    Lily sat forward and put her hand on his knee, giving it a slight squeeze. "Mark, are you all right?"
    Leaning into the corner of the sofa, he stretched his arms over the rear and side and let his head fall back against the top. He didn't answer for a long time. When he finally did, his confusion and anger escaped. "Why is this happening, Lily? What's the point? I have this camera that has some spooky power from...God only knows where... and I try to do my best, but it seems like every time I turn around, some one is...is throwing marbles in my path."
    "I don't know why that reporter decided to write an article. She was probably just looking for a story and your name popped up." She shook his leg. "Listen to me, Mark. I know everything happens for a reason. God doesn't do things on a whim, without a plan. He just doesn't. There's a purpose for all of this."
    Mark rolled his head to look at his friend; amazed to hear Thomas's dad's words coming from Lily. He narrowed his eyes. "Did Scott Palmer call you today or something?"
    Lily straightened and pulled her hand away, her expression confused. "Who?"
    Shaking his head, he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Thomas's dad. The kid I caught today. His dad's name is Scott Palmer, and he said the very same thing to me over lunch. He said I should listen to you."
    Her shoulders went back, and she beamed. "I've never spoken to him, but I can tell he's a very wise man."
    He laughed. "Of course he is."
    Lily chuckled, but then turned serious. "Have you ever tried asking God what his plan is for you?"
    Mark squirmed on the couch, then sat forward. With a drawn out sigh, he rubbed his hand over his face before resting his forearms across his knees. "How am I supposed to do that, huh? It's not like I can just call him on the phone or...or send him an email. I can ask it in my head but...God's not there...he's...I don't know where the hell he is..."
    He stood and stalked to the window, bracing his arms on either side of it. Maybe if he just looked really hard, he'd see God down there strolling the streets of Chicago.
    Why couldn't he feel the same sense of certainty that Lily felt? She just seemed to know . He thought of the Tribune article that suggested that he, Mark Taylor, might be the second coming. His mouth twisted ruefully. Even thinking something like that made him feel uncomfortable. If only they knew. Not only was he a far, far cry from the second coming of Jesus, but, he wasn't sure he even believed in God.

CHAPTER SEVEN
     

    Kern motioned to the chair opposite his desk. "Please, have a seat, Judy."
    The young woman scuttled from the door to the chair and sat with her hands clasped, head bowed. A large bruise marked her pale neck. Was she trembling?
    He'd made sure to send the most nurturing member in the Guild, Claire, to pick Judy up from the hospital this morning. His instructions were to act as if it had been the plan all along for Judy to escape from the ceremony. Not only had he advised Claire to be comforting and supportive, but gave her money to buy a complete outfit for the poor girl. 
    "Have you recovered from your unfortunate ordeal the other night?" The concern he poured into his voice did the trick. Judy looked at him, her eyes brimming.
    She nodded.
    "Do you understand why the unpleasantness had to happen?"
    Her gaze slid to the right, and she shrugged.
    He leaned towards her. "I understand you're confused. I'm sorry about that. You are a valuable member of this Guild, and I couldn't stand that you thought we wanted to hurt you.  I was trying to capture that special quality you possess. Your innocence and absolute certainty of what is right and what is wrong. I still