CHAPTER THREE

AS IT IS IN HEAVEN

Dave Gleason hardly gave a thought to the disappearance of Pamela Hauser.  She had a few checks coming and he had wondered why they were returned unopened.  He called around and came to the conclusion that maybe she had returned home.  When Kasen from Club Balloux called to talk about her, his curiosity was piqued.  It turned out all he wanted was some of the earlier photos of her, publicity things taken before she became a hardcore pro in the biz.  The price was right, $500, and Gleason had learned to ask no questions.  He arranged to meet Kasen at the same coffee shop where he had first met Pamela.  He knew technically that possession of nude pictures of minors was against the law, but he had made all the kids sign affidavits testifying to the fact that they were all adults.  He figured he had covered himself pretty well.

Cad had taken to wearing dark glasses.  In truth, he really didn't have much use for his earthly eyes.  He preferred to look at people's auras.  Most anything he wanted to know about those with whom he was dealing was on the hotline anyway.  He simply had to request background information and there were pages and pages written about every human.  One look at Dave Gleason and he would decide if he was valuable to their cause.  He had already inadvertently given them leverage to secure a nuclear weapon.  Cad wondered what he was capable of if acting directly.  It still bothered Cad that no matter what body he was in, to those who looked close enough, a fiery red was visible in his pupils.  He knew Dave was already possessed by several of his demon cohorts and had long ago given up trying to get free.  He had given himself over wholeheartedly to whatever feelings came over him, wallowing in the filth of his own imagination.  Better yet, he had made his demon-infested imagination come to life through the ideas he came up with for his host of adult feature films, each one stooping to new lows until his subject matter could be degraded no further.  His latest series of adult films had dealt with the adventures of a homosexual necrophiliac, Buster Nightstalker.  It wasn't hard to find corpses for his films.  He had a person at the San Francisco Coroner's office who would lend him the bodies of the John Does.  They were his hugest hits, grossing millions.

Gleason knew that Kasen was bringing along Santero's right-hand man.  He knew Santero's worldwide distribution company, New Way Video International, could make him one of the wealthiest men in the world.  Internationally, there were more adult bookstores than McDonald's restaurants, and sales of his Buster Nightstalker series would go through the ceiling.

As Cad and Kasen strolled into the coffee shop, Gleason felt restless for the first time.  He knew the deal he was making dealt with more than just video rights and financing for his films.  He knew it dealt with his soul.  As a teenager, he had joined the Campus Crusade for Christ at his high school in Modesto where his father was a lineman for Pacific Gas and Electric.  It had been a good upbringing and he had made some good friends.  He developed a curiosity for girls that became unquenchable.  While away at co-ed summer camp, he had found a knothole that allowed him to view into the women's showers.  He had stood outside watching the girls shower while masturbating himself.  It was like an engine running downhill out of control.  He progressed from magazines to videos, adult theaters, topless and bottomless clubs, and live sex shows until it became an obsession with him.  He had taken his first job at Virgo Films and recruited several young actors and actresses.  His job had been both to convert and to seduce them into being willing participants.  He got them all high, then got them into a hot tub and let nature take its course.  The film High School Hot Tubs had sold somewhat well to the pedophiles who liked watching young bodies nearly devoid of pubic hair.  It had no artistic value or story.  His father and mother were both devout methodists and for years he managed to keep them both pretty much in the dark about his career.  They had found out about it when the local paper ran a who's who article on him connecting him with Virgo Films and other projects.  His mom had pleaded with him over the condition of his soul quoting, "What shall it profit a man to gain the world and lose his soul?"  The words had fallen on granite.  He didn't want to hear it and didn't have much use for his father or mother.  His calls and visits home became less and less frequent.  They had come to his first wedding.  He had married one of his own stars, Violet, hoping to have kids and maybe settle down a little.  After he quit casting her in his productions, she had gotten upset and went to work for Macaw Productions on a highly budgeted Polynesian erotic adult film.  He had insisted she quit.  She refused, and they got the marriage annulled.  His next marriage was to Rhonda Waters, his bank teller.  He had told her he was in the entertainment business, but when she came down to his studio one night while he was filming a Buster Nightstalker sequel and she watched from the side as Buster had sex with a corpse, she lost what little feelings she had for him and was filled only with loathing.  He had come home that night to find the door bolted and his clothes and a note on the front step.  He paid her $50,000 in the settlement and realized that he could never have a relationship with any normal person.  He truly was repulsive to anyone with any morals.

He had often joked about making a deal with the devil and he shuttered to think that he was going to.  Not that he knew Santero was the devil, but something inside had told him, a small voice, that if he made this deal, he'd never get anywhere near God again.  He felt so guilty for ruining so many lives that he didn't really think God would take him back anyway.

Cad extended his hand after Kasen introduced them.

"Quite a hit, your Buster Nightstalker flicks."

"Thanks.  The real corpses do add a bit of a macabre flavor to it."

"Yes," Cad gleamed.  "I'm quite fond of death myself.  It makes quite interesting material.  There is a certain element here that seems to thrive on it.  You know what I mean."

At that moment, Cad took off his dark glasses and glanced right in Gleason's eyes.  The small part of Dave that wasn't demon possessed shuddered and mumbled a subconscious prayer for help, but before he could even complete it, Dave was suffocated with a cacophony of harassing voices.

"Well," Dave responded, "we are looking forward to an association with your company."  He reached in his briefcase and pulled out a script.  "This is a new script I recently wrote, `Whores of Babylon.'  I got a rough budget of $3,000,000.  It's a lot for an adult film, but the potential's there."

Kasen, having sat silently, fidgeted with his coffee cup.  Cad responded.

"If I might add, our customers seem to go mostly for the 30-minute movies.  I don't know how an epic adult film would really do.  After all, it probably couldn't get into most theaters."

"Until recently I would have agreed with you.  Now there's a new rating system.  It wouldn't even have to be an X.  Besides, your company has the foreign markets eating out of your hands.  Look, you put up the $3,000,000 for the budget.  We'll pick up any over-costs, put up the completion bond, get a well-known actor in, someone from a canceled television series, and keep the domestic theater and video market.  You can take the international market.  All of it.  Just fund the picture."

"Very interesting proposal.  What is the premise of your script?  Why do you think the international market would be so lucrative?"

"A U.S. aerospace research team consisting of an Oriental man and a black and red-haired German scientist get caught in a time warp and end up in Babylon at the time of Nebuchadnezzar.  The whole movie is an orgy, human sacrifices, homosexual affairs, everything anyone could want . . ."

"Sort of everything rolled into one.  Eh . . . well, it sounds good.  I trust you have the contract drawn up."

As Cad and Gleason finalized their deal, the angel that had been with Dave slowly departed from his side.  He had waited and pleaded hoping to end Dave's slide into this vast lostness.  The Mighty One had commanded him to return for another assignment.  For a moment his love for the man he had watched since he was a baby had tempted him to rebel or question the Mighty One.  But the Mighty One knew all.  He knew when humans took the road to the point of no-return, where no pleading of his spirit could save them from the damnation they had created for themselves.

Triumph had not seen any human ever turn from the Mighty One like this one had.  Through the years many had transgressed, committing gross faults, but none had hardened his heart or caused so much evil.

As he left, he heard Santero's fallen horde laugh.  He knew they were gloating over their hollow victory.  One more human to stoke the flames of their lake of fire.  Triumph knew that no one had prayed for Dave.  His own mom had grown discouraged and given up on him.  Without the support of the Mighty One's people, he had been powerless to prevent them from setting up house in his spirit.  He had watched him fade and fade until what once had been a vibrant young man, full of the love of God, had become an aging, tormented shell echoing in retching filth, the endless torments of Hell.

Triumph landed at County Hospital for his next assignment, Nicolous Delia, the gang leader who had just received Christ and was going to need all the help he could get just to stay alive.  Several of the fallen ones were mingling in the room arguing amongst themselves whether they should stay and try to reenter him or not.

"Be gone," Triumph flashed.  "This one is now in my charge."

"So have many others that have succumbed to our influence, Triumph.  You're not always triumphant as your name would say."

"That may be so," Triumph retorted.  "But all things work for the good of the Mighty One.  Nonetheless, you will not be allowed reentry into this one.  The Mighty One has assured me that He will remain with him."

Nicolous Delia, unaware of the battle going on around him, struggled in his sleep.  A smile came over his face as his inner man sensed the presence of Triumph drawing close to him.  Still asleep, he began to dream about the future, dream about becoming what the Mighty One wanted him to be.

As the fallen ones left the room, the blackness of the night began to lighten, and off in the horizon through the torn and trash-strewn alleyway adjacent to the hospital, the sun began to shine.  The sun, the Mighty One's gift to all humans, for warmth, for light, for beauty.  It was something humans could trust to see at the beginning of every day.  Even if overcast or stormy, they knew that behind the clouds it shown.  For many it was a reminder of the awesome power the Mighty One possessed as scientists had discovered just how much energy it possessed.  Because of the greed of the big oil companies and their desire to exploit the masses of the planet, few had really begun to harvest its energy for the betterment of their lives.  Solar calculators and solar hot water heaters had made an inroad, but not like the Mighty One had intended.  He had desired a planet free from the pollutions, a place not unlike the original garden lost under the sands of time itself - a huge oil reserve.  The sun and the rainbow were all proof of His unwavering faithfulness.  The contrasts were stark for those who continued to reject Him.  All they felt was momentary sexual pleasures.  For those that embraced Him, they had the hope of eternity placed in their hearts and no matter what sadness overtook them, they had the knowledge that it would only be temporary, for in the Circle of Light, there was no pain, no sorrow, no mourning.