Epilogue

A harsh, terrible, long, long, brass-blasting, trumpeting sound startled Screwtape. A thousand Siberian winters chased through his hot, pumping arteries. He froze. All hot, fluid activity within his steaming body ceased. An Arctic chill penetrated to the marrow. He was transfixed with horror.
   The sound was unmistakable. He had never heard it, but he had been prepared for it through all the ages. He knew one day it would come, and that he could not fail to recognize it when it came. It was a clarion call to arms -- a challenge to the death. The ultimate struggle for survival against the Great Enemy.
   Desolated, Screwtape fixed upon the telephone for his salvation. An electronic blip on his computer modem might still come to his rescue.
   “Chief,” he croaked. “Where are you?”
   There was no answer. Screwtape's final battle had begun.

Chapter 118: End game

Screwtape slumped down in his big, plush leather chair. His shoulders drooped. He was weary of it all; the long arduous hours of toil, and the insignificant results. He was expected to build a mountain, one spoonful of dirt at a time. But the spoon was so heavy, that simply to raise it was a great victory. To actually fill it with dirt, a triumph. To carry it to the work site, a miracle. Dump. There's one spoonful of dirt on a broad, flat plain that stretches to infinity. And that one spoonful of dirt, so laboriously won, blows away to nothing in the dry desert air.
   Screwtape was bone-tired, bone-discouraged. He was faced with an impossible task, and the hardest part of all was the make-believe -- the self deception. He had to make himself believe the war was winnable. If the leader acknowledged defeat, how could he inspire his troops? The poor idiots. Boasting and bragging about their prodigious spoonfuls of dirt. And he had to pat them on the back, say, "good fellow," "well done;" "keep up the good work."
   It was disgusting.
   Screwtape found the secret compartment in his desk and opened it. He took out a voice recorder, mashed the button, and began to dictate.
   "It's hopeless. Why do I keep up this charade? Why not just pack it in -- surrender? -- Because I can't.
   “Because I’m afraid.
   “Because the struggle has its own momentum. It has to continue, go on until the end. The end. Any time now.
   "Hopelessly outmatched. Like a bunch of high school kids against the Super Bowl champions. It's fourth down and ninety-nine yards to go, with two seconds left on the clock. And the score? Hah! Don't even look. A hundred to nothing. A million to nothing. What does it matter?
   "But dammit, the struggle matters. It's a pride thing now. Don't let the Bully know he's got you down. Go down swinging. Make him earn every inch."
   It was too corny. Screwtape erased the message. He threw the recorder back in the drawer and snapped it shut. He got up and went over to the expansive window. Sunlight glinted on the waves rolling in steadily, steadily for thousands of miles. On the beach, some youngsters were playing volleyball.

Chapter 117: Revival

The national media picked up the story. All across the country, total strangers started hugging each other and offering forgiveness.

   TV networks were after Jerry to start a religious broadcast. He refused. "How can you hug a TV camera?" Jerry asked. "This is for people, one on one."

   In the streets, mugging victims forgave their attackers. Gangs of young blacks roamed the streets forgiving every white person. The most bitter political opponents forgave each other. Across the world, Christians, Jews, Muslims, Hindus and Buddhists hugged each other and shared God's forgiveness."

   Abortions ceased. The crime rate dropped to zero. War a distant memory.

Chapter 116: Spreading the message

Screwtape’s hotline phone rang.

   “WHAT IN MY NAME IS GOING ON?” The searing, rasping voice of the Chief clawed its way into Screwtape’s ears, shredding his viscera. “Under your very nose! Reports of my children MY CHILDREN! turning away from me! Turning away to the Enemy! Stop this calamity, or I will devour you!”

   Shaking, Screwtape put down the phone. It was true. Hardened criminals -- child murderers, rapists, drug dealers, blackmailers; all kinds of degenerates, were falling on their knees, weeping. A plague was sweeping maximum security installations, led by the prison ministry of Jerry Langston -- once the underworld’s greatest hope for ultimate victory. Jerry preached a message of forgiveness, and the message was running wild.

   "You all think you're miserable wretches, beyond the reach of God's forgiveness," Jerry repeated in sermon after sermon. "Well, you're wrong. I am the worst among you -- the worst -- a child killer. -- And yet, I found forgiveness. It is yours, too." Jerry was a spellbinding orator. But more than that. His simple, open style was the opposite of the slick productions of TV evangelists. He was frank and honest. Every service concluded with the hymn, "Amazing Grace." There was never a dry eye in his congregations of the toughest, most calloused characters.

----

   Jerry received early parole for his work in prisons. The culture of crime within prisons -- the hierarchy of cons, sexual abuse, drug running and phone scams had been miraculously wiped out. Wardens had become more like dorm mothers, since harsh discipline was no longer necessary.

   He went straight home. Mary, Joe and Alice met him at the door. Words were not needed. After a week, he told his mother, “I’ve got to go. I’ve got things to do.” Mary nodded.

----

   The receptionist at the abortion clinic looked at Jerry warily. “I forgive you,” he said. “May I see the doctor?”

   “The doctor is busy.”

   “I’ll wait.”

   Jerry sat patiently and waited for an hour. Then another hour. Then another hour. The receptionist eyed him suspiciously. Finally, she called the police. “There’s a person here I’m concerned about,” she said.

   An officer appeared and walked up to Jerry. “May I see your identification, sir?” he asked.

   “I forgive you,” Jerry said as he gave the officer his ID and a friendly, open smile.

   “Thank you,” the officer said. He checked his smart phone for any warrants. “How long have you been out of prison?” he asked Jerry.

   “One week.”

   “Come with me, please.”

   At the police station, Jerry forgave everyone he saw. Finally, the officer let him go, saying, “You know, with your record, you really shouldn’t be going to abortion clinics.”

   “I forgive you,” Jerry said with a grin.

   Over the next several weeks Jerry personally offered forgiveness to every abortion doctor and their staffs in the state, as well as everyone he met on the street.

   The strange sight of a young man walking down the street shaking the hand, hugging and forgiving every person he met soon attracted the attention of a local news reporter.

   "Hi there. What are you doing?" The reporter asked.

   "Just offering forgiveness," Jerry said.

   "Isn't that God's business?"

   "We're here to do God's business," Jerry answered. "People are hungry -- hungry for love. Hungry for a hug. Hungry for forgiveness. I'm just trying to lighten their load a little bit."

Chapter 115: Turning point

“I want to see my mother,” Jerry told the guard.

   She appeared on visiting day.

   “Please forgive me!” they both cried in unison. For the first time in years, Jerry hugged his mother.

Chapter 114: A visit

Jerry was dying. Slowly. Drip. Drip. Drip. Every minute an eternity. A crucifixion. Restful sleep seemed an impossible dream. While time dragged, his mind raced. His thoughts would not give him a minute's peace. The image of Joey's face haunted him waking and fitfully sleeping. He longed for peace from his diseased thoughts. [Why can't they just let me die? I deserve to die. Maybe they think death would be too merciful. They prefer to torture me.]

   "You've got a visitor," the guard said.

   "Again? Tell her to go away. I don't want to see her."

   "It's not your mother."

   "Then who?" Jerry asked.

   "Just come and see her. Warden wants you to."

   "The warden? What does he care who sees me?"

   "Just come."

   Jerry was led to the visitation room. He sat. He waited. At last the door opened and an attractive young woman walked in. Something about her seemed familiar.

   "I'm Caroline Stuyvesant," she said.

   Jerry racked his brain. The name came from a long forgotten, deep well of confused memories. "Stuyvesant,..." he repeated, hesitantly.

   "My husband is Carl Stuyvesant."

   The name hit him like a nuclear explosion. Dr. Carl Stuyvesant. His target. Jerry's soul was obliterated. He hung his head. He could not look at her.

   "I forgive you,” she said simply.

   Jerry couldn’t understand the words. He looked at her with a blank expression.

   “I forgive you,” she repeated.

   “But...how…?” Jerry stammered.

   “How can I forgive you?”

   “I...I murdered your baby.”

   “Because I received forgiveness, too.”

   “You?”

   “I prayed as I have never prayed before, for God to forgive me for aiding and abetting the slaughter of innocent lives. Then one day, my husband came to me. He said he couldn’t do it any longer. He gave up his practice of killing and went back to healing. We are free -- freed from our guilt. That’s when I knew I had to come to you. You must forgive yourself, because the Lord Jesus Christ has already forgiven you.”

   Jerry’s stomach shook and quivered. Sheets of tears ran down his face.

Chapter 113: Crime and punishment

Jerry’s victim, Caroline Stuyvesant, was hospitalized with her injuries for several months. The media had gone on to other news. Jerry’s case was again assigned to the public defender. He was to be charged with assault with a deadly weapon and attempted murder. Murder was off the table, because state law did not recognize a fetus as a person.

   “I want to be charged with murder,” Jerry told his attorney.

   “Out of the question,” was the answer. “State law won’t allow it, and anyway, I’m appointed to defend you, not prosecute.”

   Jerry was alone with his thoughts. Pure torture. [Too cruel. Let me die. If I could only die.]

   His thoughts were interrupted. “Someone to see you,” a jailer said.

   “Who is it?”

   “Your mother.”

   “Please forgive me, Jerry,” Mary said through the partition.

   “I should be dead. Not him,” Jerry said.

   “You have to forgive yourself,” Mary said.

   “How can I do that?”

----

   Jerry’s trial returned media attention to the case. It had all the sensational aspects necessary for ratings: Conjoined twin survives bomb blast that killed his brother, goes on to shoot abortion doctor’s wife. Jerry pled guilty. He requested the death penalty. He refused to allow his defender to enter a plea of insanity. He was sentenced to life with possibility of parole.

Chapter 112: Collateral damage

As soon as he got back to his apartment, Jerry turned on the news. There it was: “Breaking news: Wife of abortion doctor shot; condition critical.”

   That couldn’t be. Jerry read the headline again. Wife shot. Not doctor? There had to be some mistake. The TV reporter was talking: “...unconfirmed reports say the woman threw herself in the line of fire to protect her husband. We are also hearing the doctor’s wife was pregnant. The doctor was reportedly unharmed…”

   Jerry went into the bathroom and vomited.

----

   The news story was developing fast. Every network tried to beat the other to the punch. It was the work of some right-wing religious fanatic, pundits were swift to declare; the love child of talk radio and radical Republicans. In-depth analyses of survivalist cults and conservative quasi military units filled TV broadcast and online traffic. Bloggers expounded on the relationship between religion and violence.

   The woman’s condition was updated hourly. It seemed she might survive the attack.

   But her fetus was dead.

   Jerry’s heart stopped. It stopped cold. His mind refused to accept the awful realization. This anti-abortion soldier had slain -- not an abortionist, but an innocent unborn child. It was too much. He couldn’t take it in. He remembered a line from somewhere: “I am become death.” [I have become the thing I hate most.] Jerry teetered on the brink of insanity. He picked up his gun. His hand made the gun point to his head.

   The apartment door burst open. “Police! Don’t move!” a voice from somewhere said. The gun was grabbed out of Jerry’s hand. His hands were cuffed behind his back.

----

   The swift arrest had been made possible by the shooting victim’s description of her assailant. Jerry was well known to authorities as the surviving twin of the attempted bombing of the abortion clinic.

   “I should be dead! I should be the one! Not him! Not him!" Jerry sobbed as the police took him away.

Chapter 111: Time to act

Jerry was ready.

   He knew his target’s schedule inside and out -- better than his own family knew it. He had practiced for weeks on the target range with 9mm automatic provided by Snakefoot/Stalwart’s organization. He wasn’t yet an excellent marksman, but he planned to be close enough so that it wouldn’t matter.

   Jerry was waiting in his car half a block away from the target’s house. The target was a middle-aged male with a one-year-old son and a young, pregnant wife. After a full day killing babies in his office, he always went to the same bar for a few drinks, then arrived home to his own babies and wife around 8 p.m.

   It was 7 p.m.

   Jerry waited. He thought about his target. How could he kill babies all day long, when he had a child of his own, and another one on the way? The thought enraged Jerry. He began to thump his revolver against his thigh. He thought about his mother. He had always loved her, of course. He and Joey were always enveloped in a cocoon of love. That’s why it had been so devastating when he found out the truth -- that she had never wanted him; had tried to kill him. It was the deepest, the worst kind of betrayal. He would never forgive her.

   It was 7:30.

   He didn’t trust Stalwart. There was something phony about him. He spouted the right words, the words that engaged Jerry’s feelings. But there was something missing. Stalwart didn’t seem genuine. He was playing a part. His passion wasn’t there. Jerry had the uncomfortable, growing suspicion that he was being played; a pawn in Stalwart’s game; but what was his game? Jerry couldn’t get it. What was Stalwart’s purpose, if he wasn’t really sincere about protecting human life?

   It was 7:45.

   Jerry was thinking too much. Was he going to be the victim, instead of his target? Who was this Stalwart person anyway? Got to focus. Just be calm. Remember your training. Legs apart. Two hands on the piece. Aim. Squeeze.

   It was 8.

   [Don’t be on time. Don’t be on time.]

   He was on time. A black sedan pulled into the driveway. The garage door opened. The black sedan drove in. The garage door closed. Jerry saw a shape enter the kitchen. Jerry’s mind went blank. He forgot all his training. Everything moved in a dreamlike sequence.

   The target got out of his car and walked toward the door. The walkway was a million miles long. Step after step, Jerry approached the front door. His feet moved on their own. The bell was within reach.

   He rang.

   Nothing.

   He rang again.

   Nothing.

   He rang again.

   Finally, the door opened.

   It wasn’t the target. It was the target’s wife.

   “Can I help you?” the wife asked.

   “Just came to say hi to Fred,” Jerry said, remembering his training at last. Make it as personal as possible; something from a friend, not a salesman. “...haven’t seen him since med school.”

   “Oh. I’m sorry. What’s your name again?” she asked.

   “He may not remember me. I wasn’t in his class, point-average-wise,” Jerry said modestly.

   The wife smiled.

   “Who’s that?” The target stepped up.

   “One of your victims,” Jerry said. He raised the gun and pointed it at the target.

   The wife screamed.

   The gun fired.

   Jerry turned and fled.

Chapter 110: Hardened heart

The attorney general decided not to prosecute Jerry. The defense attorney succeeded in convincing him that Joey was the chief instigator of the failed attack, and media reports of the forlorn brother who had lost his twin raised public sympathy.

   As soon as he got out of the hospital, Jerry contacted Snakefoot/Stalwart. "What have you got for me?" Jerry asked.

   "Since the big attack failed, let's go small this time," Snakefoot/Stalwart said. "Let's start by taking out a few prolific abortionists -- see if that doesn't send some kind of message. Let's start with this one." Snakefoot/Stalwart gave Jerry a file on one of the most active abortionists in the area. "Study this. Study his movements, his habits, his family. We've got to plan this one better than the last one. We don't want any slip ups this time."

   Jerry took the folder back to his apartment. He got a beer and turned on the TV. There was a news report about a man who was forgiving his daughter's murderer. "If I can forgive him," the man said in the video clip, "maybe there is hope for peace."

   "And maybe the Easter Bunny will become president and turn the ocean into cotton candy," Jerry said.

   There was a knock at the door. Jerry wasn't worried. The cops weren't looking for him. When he opened the door, his mother stood there.

   "What do you want?" Jerry asked abruptly.

   "Can I come in?"

   "What for?"

   "I have to see you."

   "You have eyes. You're seeing me."

   “You’re face is scarred.”

   “His was scarred by you.”

   "We need to talk."

   "Maybe you do. I have nothing to say."

   "Oh, Jerry! It hurts so bad! I love you! I miss you!”

   “I can’t help you.”

   “You never let me explain!”

   Jerry closed the door in his mother’s face.

Chapter 109: True to the cause

“You’ve got another visitor,” the doctor said.

   “Who is it this time?” Jerry asked.

   “A Mr. Stalwart. Says he knows you.”

   “Let him in.”

   Snakefoot/Stalwart showed an earnest and concerned face. “How are you?” he asked.

   Jerry just nodded. “Aren’t you taking a big risk, coming here?”

   “We’re loyal to our soldiers,” Snakefoot/Stalwart said. “We leave no wounded on the battlefield. Yes, the feds are trying hard, but so far they have no evidence to connect me. They’re focusing on the bomb makers right now. Of course, if they get the bomb makers, that could put them on our trail. -- But don’t worry about us. You worry about yourself. Get strong. Carry on with the fight. We lost this battle, but the war goes on.”

   Jerry was impressed with Snakefoot/Stalwart’s courage and loyalty. He gave a thumbs up and shrugged.

Chapter 108: Mixed bag

It was a mixed bag, Screwtape had to admit. The bomb was a total dud. All the thousands of jewels promised were lost -- at least for the time being. They might still be harvested in due time, if he could keep them from turning to the Enemy. The only bright spot -- and it was a big one -- was the survival of the promising twin and the death of the questionable one. Screwtape had even received a congratulatory call from the Chief himself! Almost unheard of. When the phone rang, Screwtape's insides shrank to the size of a pea. He was expecting, at best, severe chastisement, at worst -- but the Chief had said, "He is my son, in whom I am well pleased(!)" Screwtape could scarcely believe his good fortune. But the feeling of surprised gratitude and undeserved grace soon faded. [I am an awful demon. I deserve the respect of the Chief. I will bite the head off any miserable devil who thinks otherwise.] Screwtape had obviously been right all along -- the Chief had a personal interest in the Mary affair from the beginning -- had probably had a hand in the whole process. Screwtape patted himself on the back. This was going to work out after all.

----

   It was all over the news, of course. Two suspects in failed bombing attempt. One dead. The photos were grainy, but Mary’s sharp mother’s eye recognized her son, even through the bandages. “Jerry! That means...Joey!! Joey!! Oh, Joey! My dear, sweet, kind Joey!!” Her sobs took her and shook her. Joe held his wife. That was all he could do.

   When Jerry woke up two weeks later, the first thing he did was reach for Joey.

   "I'm sorry. We couldn't save your brother," a young intern said. Jerry's body jerked as if it had been shocked by a million volts. "NOooooo!" he wailed. "Impossible! Joey! Joey! Joey!"

   Then the tears came. Jerry's body twitched, shuddered and heaved uncontrollably under rolling, massive sobs. Freed from Joey, his body felt as if it would float off the bed. Jerry's head was light and spinning.

   "Your condition is still critical," the young doctor warned. "You suffered severe injuries. You must relax. Try to relax. You have suffered severe trauma," the doctor said. "You have been in a coma for two weeks. It's a miracle you survived."

   "Survived.” Jerry’s mind struggled to make sense of it. There was something about a bomb. Try to remember…

   The doctor could see what Jerry was thinking. “Don’t think now,” he said. “Lie back. Relax. Let your mind rest.”

----

   After a few days, Jerry’s memory started coming back. The bomb. The abortion clinic. The abortion monsters.

   “Why, Joey? Why? Why? Why did you stop me? They deserved to die, not you! They must pay! I’ll get them. Why did you stop me?”

   Jerry’s problem with the law did not seem to be insurmountable. The public appointed defender pushed hard to sell the theory that the twins were unwitting pawns of a right-wing extremist group. Public sympathy was on the side of the twins, due to their deformity. Jerry also benefited, being seen as one who tragically lost his twin brother -- never mind that he was killed trying to commit an act of domestic terrorism. Of course it helped Jerry’s case that Joey was the sole casualty of the bombing attempt.

   During one of the doctor’s visits, he told Jerry, “You have a visitor. I think you’re strong enough now.

   “Who is it?”

   “Your mother.”

   “No! I don’t want to see her!”

   “But she’s your mother.”

   “She tried to have me -- us -- killed.”

   The doctor could not conceal his shock. His patient had obviously suffered more than one kind of trauma. “He won’t see you,” the doctor told Mary. “In his condition, it might be best to wait.”

   “But I’ve waited so long already!” Mary cried. “I have to see my son!”

   “I’m sorry. He has had so much stress. His injuries are not insignificant. I can’t allow it at this time, if he doesn’t wish it.”

   Mary and Joe moved to an apartment in town to be near the hospital. She called the hospital every day. “At least let me talk to him on the phone, won’t you?”

----

   After a month of rehabilitation, Jerry finally agreed to speak to his mother on the phone.

   “Jerry.” No response.

   “Jerry, say something, please. I know you are angry. Please forgive me.”

   “He’s dead! You finally got your wish!” Jerry blurted out.

   Mary winced and turned her head away. “I loved him better than my life!” she cried. “I love you both. Let me see you, please! I’ve got to see you; know you’re all right.”

   “I’m all right, Mom. How could I not be? My mother tried to kill me and failed. And now Joey’s dead. My fault. No, I’m fine, Mom. Don’t worry about me.” Jerry hung up the phone.

Chapter 107: Aftermath

"My God, what a mess," Officer Ted Blankenship said. "It looks like there were two of them. This one already had scars, some earlier injury." He started counting appendages. "One arm, two arms. One leg, two legs. Here's more..." Blankenship's inventory of body parts was interrupted by a groan. "Something's alive!" Blankenship shouted. "Get the paramedics here -- now!"

Chapter 106: Payday

"No!" Jerry screamed. His scream was unheard; washed away by a roar and a blast of wind.

Chapter 105: D-Day

The truck seemed to have a will of its own; gliding effortlessly through the crowded streets. Throngs of protesters lined the streets. Pro-choice and pro-life advocates faced each other, shouting slogans, waving signs. No one noticed a nondescript truck making its way through the teeming humanity.

   Jerry parked in front of the abortion clinic. It was time. He nodded, then prodded Joey. Joey turned, reached behind him, set the timer. "OK," he said. Jerry opened the door and started to descend, dragging Joey with him.

  "I can't," Joey suddenly said. He lurched backward painfully, threatening to tear himself loose from the bond that had always held him tight to his brother.

   "Are you crazy?" Jerry shouted. "You're going to kill us!"

   "I can't do it!" Joey shouted. He wrestled his brother back into the driver's seat. The twins' noisy struggle was beginning to attract a crowd. Joey remembered what the bomb makers taught him: the red wire connects the two bombs. The blue wire triggers the first bomb -- big enough, but not nearly as deadly as the second. Holding his breath, Joey cut the red wire. No explosion. They were still alive. The first bomb consisted of four charges to go off in sequence. Joey disconnected the first charge. He breathed. They were still alive. He disconnected the second charge. No explosion. He hesitated, trembling. He disconnected the third charge.

Chapter 104: The plan

The attack plan was proceeding smoothly. Snakefoot/Stalwart scheduled it to coincide with a massive pro-choice rally. “Thousands of babykillers and babykiller supporters will be on hand,” he told the twins. “The perfect time to strike -- to begin our offensive.” What he didn’t tell them was that it would also be a major coup for his Chief and Screwtape; thousands of unrepentant babykillers harvested at one blow, without the chance to seek forgiveness, redemption. Pull a fast one on the Old Bully. No deathbed conversions this time.

   “There will be two bombs,” Snakefoot/Stalwart explained. “--the first just a small one. When they rush in, some out of curiosity and some to aid the victims of the first bomb, POW! the second one wipes out thousands.”

   Jerry swallowed hard. Joey felt sick.

----

   The next few weeks were spent in intensive training with the bomb makers. “It’s a very delicate fuse,” Stuffelwaithe explained. “The two bombs are intricately connected. One false move, and wham. You set the fuse, then you get your butts out of there. Got it?”

   Snakefoot/Stalwart made them go over the plan again and again, to make certain there would be no screwups (no Screwtapes-up, as he thought, mischievously). There was the floorplan of the abortion clinic. The names of the “doctor” and his assistants. The precise time the fuse was to be set, to ensure maximum casualties.

----

   Revenge day. Jerry was ready to reap the whirlwind. He would make them pay; those who tried to kill them; maimed them.

   The bombs were secured in a medium-sized moving truck, spray painted gray to make it appear uninteresting and arouse no suspicion. It was modified so Jerry could easily control it with one hand. The twins were to park the truck in front of the abortion clinic where the pro-choice rally was to take place.

   “‘Choice.’ That’s rich,” Snakefoot/Stalwart snorted. “How they pervert the language! What horror does that dissembling word ‘choice’ disguise? They ‘choose’ to crush the skulls, burn off the skin, suck out the brains of innocent babies. How would they react if I ‘chose’ to chop down a tree, drive a gas guzzler, refuse to recycle, say an unkind word about blacks or gays? They would be outraged at my ‘choices,’ wouldn’t they?"

   "I don't know," Joey said for the hundredth time. "Can we really take all those innocent lives? Is this just revenge?"

   "Innocent? You think they're innocent?" Jerry asked, unbelieving. "Look at us! We bear their mark! How many more will they maim and kill if we don't stop them?"

   "We want to protect lives, but we're taking lives," Joey said. "What they do, what they condone is wrong -- but aren't we just as guilty?"

   "This is war," Jerry said. "We are fighting to save lives. We are killing the ones who are killing with impunity. In war there are casualties. Collateral damage. They've got to be made to see what they have done; what they are doing. They think they are on the side of the angels! They don't even recognize the suffering of their victims! Their victims are unseen, unheard. When we scream, we scream in silence! Nobody hears, so nobody cares!"

   It was time. The twins made their way to the truck. Jerry settled in behind the controls. Silence weighed them down. Their internal gravity swallowed everything -- words, breath, -- thoughts trapped in a black hole from whence nothing could escape, not even prayers.

Chapter 103: The smell of success

Screwtape was as close to being happy as an underworld lord could ever be. Jewels were flowing into the Chief’s insatiable maw faster than ever. Project Sugarloaf was again making strides. Drug addiction, gambling debts, and therefore bankruptcies, divorces, suicides and murders, were all up. Snakefoot was doing an admirable job turning the twins to his side. After so many failures, he was really making progress. “Under my leadership,” Screwtape boasted to the Chief. “If I hadn’t made an example of that idiot Glubwart, he never would have felt the heat; never would have succeeded,” Screwtape bragged. Snakefoot had managed to separate them from that troublesome Mary creature. The male nuisance, her miserable husband, was no longer a threat. Screwtape was beginning to feel that a showdown was coming -- a climax in the eternal struggle -- and for the first time, he felt that the underworld had the advantage. How long; how many centuries had he toiled, always thwarted, always beaten by the enemy. This time it would be different. This time Screwtape would lead his legions to victory against the big bully.

Chapter 102: In league with

Jerry had been quiet and moody -- more moody than usual -- over the past few weeks. “What’s bothering you?” Joey asked.

   “I’ve been thinking. Thinking about what that preacher said. Thinking maybe we should join him. What happened to us shouldn’t happen. We should try to stop it.”

   Snakefoot/Stalwart had been active in the community, making speeches, recruiting, appearing on radio and TV talk shows. His fiery brand of rhetoric created quite a stir. Many pro-life advocates were drawn to him. His name became anathema in pro-choice circles.

   The twins began following him. They naturally attracted attention to themselves. At one event, a very pretty brunette approached Joey. “I’ve noticed you at several of Bill’s appearances,” she said. “You seem less enthusiastic than your brother.”

   Jerry turned around sharply. “We are always together. -- In more ways than one,” he said sharply.

   “I didn’t mean to imply anything,” the girl said. “My name’s Ruth. What’s yours?”

   “Joey.”

   “Jerry.”

   “What do you think of Bill?” she asked.

   “We’re interested,” Jerry said.

   “I think he’s wonderful,” Ruth gushed. “So giving. So dedicated. Do you know anything about his mission?”

   “Anti-abortion? I should think so. We were aborted,” Jerry said.

   Ruth gasped, “Oh my g… Oh my goodness! Is that what caused? Is that what…”

   Joey and Jerry gave a brief, cold nod.

   “Oh my g.. goodness,” Ruth repeated. “You must come and meet Bill!” She grabbed Joey by the arm and pulled the twins in the direction of the outdoor stage. They maneuvered through the crowd around behind the stage. When Snakefoot/Stalwart finished his speech, he turned and headed down the steps. Ruth brought the twins to meet him.

   “Bill,” she said. “I’ve got someone you’ve got to meet! These gentlemen are victims of abortion!”

   “Really!” Snakefoot/Stalwart was interested. “Tell me your story, gentlemen.”

   “Not much to tell,” Jerry said. Our mom tried to have us aborted. We survived.”

   “Yes. I see the scars -- physical and mental,” Snakefoot/Stalwart commiserated. “We need you. Will you join us? You can help, better than anyone, to expose the horrors of abortion.”

   “What would we have to do?” Jerry asked.

   “Come with us. Tell your story,” Snakefoot/Stalwart said.

   “I don’t know,” Joey said. “We’ve never been interested in publicity. We prefer our privacy.”

   “I know it will require courage and dedication on your part,” Snakefoot/Stalwart said. “You have to decide if you are willing to pay the price.”

   “We’ll let you know,” the twins said.

   Ruth left with the twins. They did not see her wink at Snakefoot/Stalwart. “I can’t tell you how much I admire your courage,” Ruth told Joey. “Many would not think of coming forward, making a public spectacle of themselves, in order to save countless millions of innocent babes.”

   “We haven’t decided yet,” Joey said.

   “I know, but …” Ruth smiled broadly. “I have a feeling. I can feel your character, your bravery, your commitment.” Ruth leaned in close to Joey and kissed him; at first on the cheek, sliding around to his mouth as she embraced him. She sighed and held her body tightly to Joey’s. Jerry smiled and looked away.

   “Tell me all about yourself -- selves,” Ruth said. “You’re so exciting! I can’t imagine being that close to anyone.”

   For the umpteenth time, Joey said, “He’s always there when I need a helping hand.” Ruth smiled and held Joey’s hand.

   “What do you do when the two of you disagree on something?” she asked.

   “He’s my brother,” Joey said. “I’d follow him anywhere.” Ruth laughed gaily at Joey’s wit.

   “How do you arrive at decisions though?” she persisted.

   “We have no problem. Two heads are better than one,” Joey said. Ruth laughed even louder. “You are so cute!” she said.

   Ruth didn’t want the evening to end. The three went out to dinner, enjoying drinks and each other’s company. “We should be getting back to the dorm,” Joey finally said.

   “Oh, no. Come home with me,” Ruth pleaded. “I want to talk some more.” She pressed Joey’s hand.

   Ruth’s apartment was comfortable but not lavish. She made the twins some more drinks. She prodded Joey to tell her more. He told her about the close calls with the bear and snake, the snowstorm and pneumonia. “We don’t remember all of it exactly,” Joey said. “We just know what Mom told us.”

   “You’ve really been through a lot,” Ruth sighed. She held Joey close. “I’m feeling a little woozy,” she said. She kissed Joey full on the lips and fumbled with his clothes. She led the twins to her bed, slipped off her dress and pulled Joey after her. He did not feel her talons and scales.

---

   For the next several months the twins toured with Snakefoot/Stalwart as the star attraction of the show. At the end of Snakefoot/Stalwart’s emotional speech, he would turn and shout, “...and now see the evil face of the abortion industry!” The crowd would swoon and sob upon seeing the twins.

   The twins had left the Salvation Army and got their own apartment. They were receiving a modest salary from Snakefoot/Stalwart’s foundation. Ruth was constantly by their side.

   After one particularly emotional performance, Snakefoot/Stalwart pulled the twins aside. “It’s not enough,” Snakefoot/Stalwart said. “The killers are malicious, brutal, bloodthirsty animals. We’re in a war, but only one side is fighting. What’s the casualty list? Take a look -- millions upon millions to nothing -- well, practically nothing. They’ve got to learn there’s a price to pay. They cannot go on killing with impunity. They’ve got to suffer real consequences; real losses.”

   Jerry was intrigued. “What do you suggest?”

   “I have connections,” Snakefoot/Stalwart said. “You have more reason than most to want to strike a blow for our side. I can put you in touch with the right people.”

   “What’s the plan?” Jerry asked.

   “A bomb. They’ve got to take casualties,” Snakefoot/Stalwart said.

   “I don’t know,” Joey said.

   “We’re in,” Jerry said.

---

   That night in bed, after Joey and Ruth were finished, Jerry pulled Ruth to himself. “What are you doing?” Ruth asked. “It’s like my dear brother says,” Jerry answered. “Two heads are better than one.” Ruth giggled.