I couldn’t have asked for a better night with him. It was unbelievable, thanks to Kathy Kaplan. I don’t know how to thank her, but I intend to try. No interruptions, not one, as we danced together all night long to the sweet sounds of the Chairman of the Board. I imagine Lucifer and his group were keeping themselves busy at the concert, maybe causing a disturbance or two. I don’t really give a fuck what they were doing, as long as they weren’t here, bothering us.
Tomorrow, bail will be set. Kaplan seems confident it will be swift and affordable. Once that’s taken care of, then the going becomes a bit tricky. Because this is the part of the script that’s changing, and although I know what the change will be, I don’t know how it will be put into effect. All I do know is I’ll die in Jesus’ stead. Lucifer will see to it that Jesus is safe. But I can’t be sure when or how it will happen, just that it will. So I also don’t know how much time we’ll have together before it happens. We’ll have to make the most of what time we do have, make every moment count.
My sweet prince murmurs softly in his sleep. I lean in to him, listening.
“Judas,” he mumbles, nothing more. That makes me happy. I kiss him softly, and he nestles even closer against me, silent once more. Dear God, please understand what it is that I do. I love your son, I want him to be happy; he deserves a real life.
Please don’t be angry with him for anything, he’s no idea what I’m doing, but please watch over him. Not that I think He wouldn’t—that’s His son, after all.
I drift off after a time to dreams of Jesus and I in which we slowly dance together in a world that consists of us and us alone. A world of utter peace and serenity, filled with nothing but love. If only this perfect place existed in the real world, a place where any two people who love one another can be together, without incurring the enmity or scorn of society.
I’m brought back into sudden consciousness by the sound of voices, jarring voices, angry and demanding voices. I’ve no idea how long I’ve been asleep. The small glimpse of the sky I can garner through the single window in the cell shows nothing but darkness, therefore I reason it must be late. What the fuck’s going on?
Who’s here? Jesus is awake as well. I can feel the tension in his body, as we try to make some sense out of what’s happening.
The lights have suddenly been flipped on—an odd thing for intruders to do—
allowing me a better look at them. I can see now it’s Lucifer’s people. A whole crowd of them, crammed into the jailhouse. Some I’ve seen before, on the picket line. Others I don’t recognize. But they’re clearly together. And well armed. I see no sign of either Sheriff Kaplan or his wife. That can’t be good. Surely the sheriff came to relieve his wife after the concert? At least I assume so, as I’ve no idea of the time. So where is he then? Just as I wonder this, Kathy Kaplan appears in the doorway to the sheriff’s office, gun in hand, cocked and aimed at the assembled mob. For I have no doubt that’s what they are, a mob. For what purpose? I don’t know, but whatever it is, it can’t be good.
“Stop right where you are,” she warns them, walking slowly toward them, her weapon clearly intended to keep them at bay, no more. “It’s the middle of the night, you have no business here. I’m going to have to ask you all to please leave the premises immediately.”
Jesus and I have gained our feet now, and I’m trying to figure out the best way to keep him safe. For the moment all I can do is to simply stand in front of him protectively, trying to assess the tenor of the crowd, divine their intentions. Are they here for me? Is this what Lucifer has planned? If so, where is the big prick hiding?
A spokesperson steps forward, toward Kathy. One of Lucifer’s regulars, I recognize him from the last time they broke in on Jesus and I. Not the father of that boy. I don’t see him anywhere. This man wouldn’t be nearly so brave if he didn’t have all those armed men at his back.
“P-please don’t interfere. We’ve been given a job to do, and we’re going to do it.”
“A job?” She fixes him with a skeptical look. “I have no idea who or what you’re talking about, but this is my husband’s jail, and you’ve no business being in it at this time of night. If you want something, come back in the morning, when he’s here.”
So far the crowd has taken no notice of either of us, which is good, and I’m wondering if this is a prelude of sorts, although I can’t see what purpose it serves.
The concert must still be going on though. Can this be a coincidence that all these people are here now, when the sheriff isn’t? I don’t think so.