“I told him I hated him quite a few times and I kicked him once.”

“Why did you kick him?”

Wally started to fidget a bit, fiddling with the chest hair that stuck out of the top of his shirt. “He was hitting Mum.”

“Well, I would have kicked him too.”

Wally continued. “I yelled at him, told him to stop and then kicked him in the leg. He turned around and slapped me so hard I ended up sliding across the room.”

“What did your mum do?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing . . . I think she was scared of him. She lived with him for a long time after Dad died. I tried to like him but I hated him. There came a day where Mum had to choose between me and the man—she chose the man, and I believed it was all because of me kicking him.”

“Don’t think so, Wal. She would have loved you, but was probably confused about life.”

“But how could she do that to her own son? I was thirteen when I was shown the door. I remember standing outside the house, looking back at the house, the door closed. I ran back up the stairs and banged on the door. I yelled out saying how sorry I was, but there was no answer. And then the plan came.”

This got Churchie’s attention. He felt Wally was getting to the crux of the matter. “What plan, Wal?”

“I slept the night in the park. I had done that a few times before. I knew they would be gone to work by eight-thirty so I went back to the house. The shed’s never locked, so I got in there and found some petrol. I went round the back of the house, poured petrol on the balcony and back door. I smoked, so I had matches. So I lit a match, threw it on the petrol and ran. At one stage, I stopped and looked back and I could see the smoke and could hear the sirens. I kept running.

“Did the whole house burn down?”

“No . . . I went back to the house later in the day. A few people were standing looking at the house. Only the back half was badly burnt, so I don’t know what they were looking at. I heard my mum behind me, asking me if I was happy now and that I was a brat and belonged in hell. She slapped me in the face. After that I just walked away and kept walking. That was the last time I saw my Mum.”

“How long ago was that, Wal?”

“Not sure.” Wally thought about it. “Must be close to twenty years.”

Churchie sighed. What had happened here? Why would a mother desert a child, put him out on the streets?

Wally was still speaking. “They found me a few days later, in the city.”

“You know, Wally, you were screaming out for attention. No one was listening. The fire was your last call for help.”

“I know, Churchie . . . I blended in to the streets after that.”

Churchie put his hand on Wally’s shoulder. “Can I say a short prayer for you, Wal?”

“Mel and I spoke about this a while ago. We’ve noticed that you’re really getting into this prayer stuff. We aren’t sure if it works but, I’m happy for you to pray for me.”

“Lord, what a mess we have made of things. I bring Wally into your presence and ask that you may start a work in his heart so that the truth will be revealed to him. I also ask, Father, that you bring healing to his heart. Healing and forgiveness. I ask these things in the name of Jesus.”

“Thanks, Churchie. That was nice. I suppose you believe in hell, too?”

“Yes, I do, Wally. Do you?”

“No, because if it’s real, that’s where I’m going. Then again, I sometimes think maybe I’m already there.”

Churchie reached into his shirt pocket and brought out a small notebook. He held it up to Wally. “My favourite sayings. I write them down because my memory isn’t that great.” He flipped through a few pages. “Ah, here it is . . . a description of hell for you.”

“Our Lady showed us a great sea of fire which seemed to be under the earth. Plunged in this fire were demons and souls in human form, like transparent burning embers, all blackened or burnished bronze, floating about in the fire, now raised into the air by the flames with great clouds of smoke, now falling back on every side like sparks in a huge fire, and amid shrieks and groans of pain and despair, which horrified us and made us tremble with fear.”

Churchie closed his notebook and, putting it back in his shirt pocket, he looked at Wally. “Pretty gruesome, hey? That’s a vision of hell given to three young Portuguese shepherds by an apparition of the Blessed Virgin Mary in the early 1900s. The Virgin Mary was the mother of Jesus.”

“What’s an appa . . . apparition?”

“A big word that I learned, Wal. It means a vision, supernatural ghost type of thing.” Churchie felt that he was starting to make things hard to understand and wanted to back off.

“And people believe these things?”

“Well, there were three of them, children that is, and the visions are believed by the Catholic Church. Other visions are also recorded. But let’s keep it simple, let me tell you what I believe . . . yep, I believe in hell. I think a vision of a sea of fire under the earth with demons and souls shrieking through groans of pain and despair is a good and frightening description. Although I’m still a bit confused about the difference between souls and spirit, I do believe there’s an afterlife. We will live on forever either in hell or heaven.”

They heard some footsteps coming from the gravel path on the side of the Church. It was one of the ministers from the Church. “Oh, hi Churchie, how are ya?”

“Fine Rev . . . is it okay for us to sit here? We are having a good chat about heaven and hell.”

“Okay . . . no problems. There may be a few people coming out soon. We've just finished a Bible study. Pretty late finish tonight. Lots of questions, particularly about today’s events, so you may need to let them squeeze past you.” He reached out his hand to Wally. “I’m Peter, known as the Rev, and you are?”

“Wally.”

“Nice to meet you, Wally. Listen to Churchie. He has a bit of knowledge there. I’m thinking of getting him up to preach one Sunday. Maybe you can come along and listen to him.” The Rev winked at Wally. “Well, best be off, a few things I need to do.”

Churchie looked at the Rev as he walked off. Since the time the Rev found him huddled up under the bush out at the back of the church, he and the Rev had spent many hours together, the Rev walking him through the Bible, always offering encouragement and telling Churchie how quickly he was picking things up. The Rev said God was doing a bit of work on Churchie.

He stood up. “Must get going now, let’s continue our discussion later. It’s good news that’s coming next.”

Wally stood up and stretched. His knees cracked. “Yeah, I got to shoot down to the shelter on Hope Street and confirm my sleeping arrangements. Maybe catch up with you later.”

Churchie smiled about the name Hope Street. “Okay, see ya.” He watched Wally walk off. The demon seemed to be hanging back a bit now.

<°)))><

Aaron collapsed on his couch in the living room. Wow, what a day and still not finished. He looked for the remote but couldn’t see it. He pushed his hands down the side of the cushions and located the remote. He turned on the TV and was confronted by a news flash.

The body was spotted in a large tree by a bushwalker. Another witness said he heard someone yell and saw something fall out of the sky. It is has been confirmed that the body was one of those that vanished from the city earlier today. A search has commenced for other bodies.

Aaron’s heart rate picked up, his muscles tensed, he sat forward. He hoped that wasn’t Mackenzie or Paul and that there were no other bodies. No other bodies meant there was still hope. 

And then it hit him. The body fell out of the sky. Dad must have fallen and hit his head. Why him? Was he in the wrong place at the wrong time?

<°)))><

A police officer man sat on a plastic chair staring at his takeaway coffee cup and the logbook that sat on the card table in front of him. His radio crackled about some severe storms out in the suburbs, some dropping huge hailstones. He looked around and found that hard to believe. He was bored: there hadn’t been an entry in the logbook for some three hours. Everything was quiet and still.