The Sanctuary

40

I DON’T THINK God himself could have stopped what happened next. Danny certainly couldn’t, and so I forgave him even then, before it all ended.

I’d clung to his naked chest while he trembled, you see, so I knew that he was in anguish. I’d smelled the fear on his skin and tasted the agony in his sweat. So when he stood still with his back to me, facing the other members, I knew he’d come to the end of himself.

I knew that he couldn’t save me. I knew that he was telling himself that he hadn’t done well enough, and I was going to rush over to him and take hold of him again and try to convince him that it was all a lie.

But then it all happened too fast. The warden was speaking and they were bringing in a folding table and setting it down in the middle of the room between Danny and me. A doctor walked in with a black case, which he set down on a bench next to the table.

He pulled out what looked like a dentist’s drills, and I knew then that he was going to do something terrible to me. Wild imaginations screamed through my mind, and in them I saw him grinding down my teeth while they held my jaw open. I saw a bit whining into my skull and into my brain. I saw a saw cutting into my spine as agonizing pain sliced through my nerves.

And I knew that if I could imagine those things, the warden’s punishment would be worse. I began to panic. When I spun back to Danny he had turned around. He was watching me with dread in his eyes, like two pools of night.

“You’re going to watch this, Priest.” Keith was glaring at Danny. “You’re going to feel the pain I felt when you stole my wife from me, and you’re going to wish you were dead. And then, if you’re lucky, you will be.”

Danny saw it all and knew that he was now faced with a moment that would forever alter his carefully constructed understanding of the world. Pushed by rage, he’d become a celebrated soldier, killing the enemy with ruthless precision until the war ended and there was no enemy to kill. To honor his mother, he’d become a priest, and then, confronted by gross injustice, he’d rescued the oppressed by once again killing, this time monsters who preyed on the weak. In both cases, he’d considered himself the arm of God in a holy war, only to learn that he’d become a monster like those he killed. An eye for an eye, a life for a life, a system of justice he could overturn only with love, by turning the other cheek and dying to save, not killing to save.

But now consideration, logic, and reason yielded nothing but a terrible mystery of contradictions for which there seemed to be no answer. If God loved Keith, was Danny not also meant to love Keith? Wasn’t Pape just another confused man twisted by the violence of others? Was it Danny’s to judge?

The doctor was going to drill into Renee’s shin and tickle the nerves deep inside her bones. Danny could not bear the thought.

And yet the only way to stop that pain was to destroy the guards who held the weapons, leaving their children in a nearby town fatherless and bitter.

There was only one option left for him, borne in that moment of intense suffering for which his mind had no answer, much less escape. He’d never surrendered his mind. He’d controlled it with uncanny vigor and suppressed it in search of peace, but he’d never surrendered it entirely, as was the practice of the mystics. This, they said, took the greatest power of all.

“Strap her down,” the warden said.

Danny’s mind began to shut down.

He slowly sank to his knees, steeled his thoughts as best he could, and gave in to raw emotion. The pain of surrender was far greater than the pain he’d suffered in the bowels of Basal. He did not cry out, did not weep, did not tremble. He only submitted his mind and accepted the anguish that squeezed his heart.

But even as he did, he knew that his heart could not contain the pain.

I watched Danny sink to his knees, and I knew that it was over. His eyes were blank and dark, and a terrible sorrow etched deep lines in his face. The sight of it was so horrible that my mind seemed to blink out. I forgot where I was.

“Strap her down,” the warden said.

I was there. I was with Danny, and I was thinking that I had to comfort him.

Danny’s legs suddenly gave way and he dropped, eyes now shut.

Everything in the room seemed to stall. They were all watching him. I could hear his heavy breathing as he sucked air through his nostrils. I watched a slight quiver take to his hands. Tears flooded my eyes—not for me, but for him.

For the man who had given his whole life for me.

We all watched in stunned silence—the members, the guards, the warden, Keith, all of us—staring at the priest on his knees, mouth shut, breathing hard.

“Get up!” Keith snarled.

But Danny did not get up.

“You can give it but you can’t take it? Get up!”

Danny was in a different place, and his sorrow left no room for modesty. His muscles were strung like cords; his fists were white.

Keith cursed and started for me, and only then did my mind return to my own horror. He was going to strap me down on the table. They were going to torture me in front of Danny.

Keith’s hand grabbed my arm and I cried out. It was only a single outburst of terror, but that simple tone silenced Danny’s heavy breathing.

The emotions ravaging Danny could not find words for expression. They were felt, not described except by approximation. Like a ravenous beast with ferocious fangs, they tore into his heart. His mind told him that he was breaking down. That, confronted by the torment of the one he loved as much as God loved her, he’d finally snapped.

He had been her savior and yet now he would not save her, and the truth pushed his pain deeper into what could only be insanity.

A cry sliced into his consciousness. Renee’s.

God help them all…

He felt the last tether of emotion snap and he watched it drift away, like a balloon with a cut string. Immediately, a simple awareness awakened in Danny’s being. Finally, he’d stepped past his thoughts and emotions and found himself simply and profoundly alive.

But there was more. Awareness, not thought, occupied him. Awareness of light and love and a profound peace. The anger and sorrow and fear were behind him, chased into hiding by the very fabric of something new in his consciousness.

Pure, unadulterated surrender to what was. To God.

His eyes snapped wide and he saw Renee, and in that moment he was aware of what he must do, not through a process of thought or reason, but through simple consciousness, rooted in the very fabric of creative power and being.

He would not punish. He would save.

I jerked my head up and saw he’d become a different man. A switch had been thrown deep in his mind, and the Danny I once knew had come back to life.

His head was lowered and a look of stoic confidence left his face plain. He moved suddenly, without uttering a single sound, hurling himself forward.

The strangest thoughts overcame me then, seeing him in that state, an impossible mixture of horror and pride, a brew of anguish and exhilaration. He was throwing himself away to save me, you see? His love for me surpassed even his most sacred vow never to harm another man again.

He was now beyond reason, reacting only out of desperate love. There were seven armed officers in the room and Danny had only his hands, but if there were a hundred he would have done the same.

Twenty feet separated my priest and me, and he rushed in like a lion, head low, eyes fixed on his prey.

Danny was halfway to the table before the first shot rang out. I saw the impact of the bullet as it struck his thigh, but it only knocked him sideways for one step and he was still rushing, undeterred, mindless of his own wound.

Then Danny was in the air, hurling himself over the table with his head forward like a battering ram. His left hand snagged the edge of the table as he flew, and in that single motion he did two things: he tipped the table up to give me a semblance of cover, and he crashed into Keith. I saw and heard it all as I fell backward with the table on top of me.

I saw Keith take a desperate step in retreat.

I saw the crown of Danny’s head slam into his face, saw Keith’s head snap back.

I heard the bridge of Keith’s nose crack as Danny’s full weight slammed it up into his brain.

Keith was dead before he hit the ground, and Danny was sailing over his falling body.

I don’t know if Danny planned every move or if it came to him reflexively, but by the time he landed, he was in a roll and halfway to the guards in the near corner.

The closest CO already had his rifle up and was firing. If he’d been a hunter accustomed to taking down charging rhinos, his shot might have hit Danny, but it missed the rushing target.

“Fire!” the warden was screaming at the other guards. “Kill him!”

But it was all happening too fast, and the guards must have realized they would be shooting directly at the other guards.

Danny struck the correctional officer’s chest with the palm of his right hand and sent him crashing back toward the two at the door, jerking away the man’s rifle as he flew.

The captain had pulled out his sidearm and finally managed to get a shot off toward the corner. It clipped Danny’s shoulder and smacked into the forehead of the guard behind him.

Danny came up with the rifle already in full swing. The first of the two remaining guards by the door threw up his arm and tried to duck under the weapon but failed to avoid the blow. The rifle clipped the top of his head before striking the second guard squarely on his temple.

I lay on my back, head twisted, watching it all from the ground, thinking it was all impossible. There were too many men with guns aimed at Danny! He’d killed Keith and disabled three of the seven armed men, but Bostich and three others still had their sights on him, and surely one would find its mark!

And then one did.

A shot crashed from my left and Danny lurched forward as a slug slammed into his back. Bostich had taken a second shot.

Even when things happen so fast, or maybe especially when they do, certain images and thoughts are remarkably clear. When I saw that second bullet hit Danny I knew that he was going to die defending me.

I shoved the table away and screamed. “Danny!” I was still on my back, and the table was off of me, but it blocked my view of him. Frantic, I rolled to my side and clambered up to my knees. “Danny!”

He was in a pile of three bodies, and he’d already pulled one of them over his own. Two bullets smashed into that body before Danny rolled away and came up on one knee with the rifle at his shoulder. His jaw was fixed and his dark eyes showed no sign that he was even aware of the wounds he’d taken.

It’s crazy, I know, but such a surge of respect and pride flooded me that for a moment I couldn’t cry out, though my mind was shrieking.

Danny’s first shot took Bostich in the forehead and slammed him backward onto his seat. His second chased the first, like a rolling thunderclap, toward the guard in the far corner past Bostich. The bullet struck that man’s shoulder and spun him around. The man’s rifle crashed to the floor.

Danny shifted his aim and held the weapon on the warden.

“Drop them!” he shouted.

His order rang through the hard yard. There were two more guards in two opposite corners, one to Danny’s right and one to his left. He kept his eyes on Marshall Pape’s ashen face, keeping the other two in his peripheral vision.

For a count of three, no one moved. They had all just watched Danny take down five men in under fifteen seconds, and they were probably rethinking their allegiances. The doctor stood back, hands half-raised.

I was on my knees, staring at my Danny, who knelt, bleeding from the wounds in his side, back, and his thigh, and I waited for the end.

“Lay your weapons down.” Danny’s voice was even now. Almost regretful.

The two guards gave the warden the courtesy of looking at him, but with Danny’s rifle on the man, they needed no further encouragement. First one, then the other lowered the barrels of their rifles.

Danny stood. “On the ground.”

Their rifles clattered to the concrete.

A surreal quiet settled over the room. Randell rose to his feet, eyes wide and on Danny. Slowly, the others rose with him.

The warden’s face began to settle. A smile crept over his mouth as he stared down the length of the rifle still in Danny’s hands.

“You see, Danny,” he said. “I knew you could do it. She’s right, you’ve done well. Now put the gun down and let’s clean up this mess.”

The man had the audacity to think it was over, as if this little lesson simply had proved his point that Danny had broken the law. And maybe he did, but this wasn’t over.

If I’d had a gun, I think I might have shot the warden myself.

“Mark, Rodrick…please leave your weapons on the floor,” the warden said.

I glanced over and saw that one of the guards Danny had hit was within reach of his handgun. He didn’t look interested in reaching for it.

“You see, it’s all over, Danny,” the warden said.

“I don’t think so.”

“This is my sanctuary. I decide when it’s over. We’ll never get along until you fully realize that.”

“It’s over for me,” Danny said. “But I think it’s just beginning for you.”

The warden smiled. “You’re forgetting something, my friend. I hold the keys. Keep that tone and you’ll earn yourself another trip below.”

Danny spoke as if he hadn’t heard the man. “You’ve broken too many laws and ruined too many lives now. We’ll let the courts decide what happens to me, but I already know what they will decide about you.”

“Don’t be a child, Danny. No one will ever even know any of this took place. It happens all the time. And now you’ve demonstrated that you’re no different from me. You’ve just killed to save your precious lamb.”

“I killed only in self-defense.”

“You have no rights to defend yourself here. Put the gun down and God may forgive you this time.”

Bruce Randell stepped away from the wall, walked up to the warden from behind, and brought both fists down on the man’s head with enough force to crack a log.

Marshall Pape grunted once and dropped like a rock. He lay on the floor, legs bent oddly under his torso, breathing but unconscious. Randell stared down at the man, fists shaking.

“You’re gonna get us killed,” someone muttered. It struck me then that none of the others had moved. Whatever grip the warden had on them was so strong that even now, with their tormentor on the ground, they couldn’t see their way free to deal with him.

All but Bruce Randell, who lifted his foot and was about to bring it down on the warden’s head when Danny cut him short.

“Leave him,” he said.

Randell stared at him, foot cocked.

“He’s suffered enough.”

Randell hesitated a second, then lowered his foot. The other inmates stared, still stunned by what they’d witnessed.

Danny nodded and faced the guards, who were clearly in shock. “Everything will come to light and California’s going to erupt. I’ll take whatever punishment the courts decide is fair for what I’ve done, but you must know that you will as well. I doubt they will be very kind. Tell me if I’m wrong.”

None of them spoke. With Bostich gone and the warden out, they were like lost sheep, not unlike the prisoners. I felt a stab of pity for them.

“You can side with the warden and go down with him, or you can stand up for justice. Either way, Renee must be set free. Now. Do you understand? I’m going to escort her out of here, and then you can take me into custody.”

He was going to send me away? The thought terrified me.

“No, Danny!” I pushed myself to my feet.

Danny faced me and our eyes met. He was bleeding, his life was in danger, he had to get to a hospital as quickly as possible—but I was thinking something else as I walked toward him.

“You’re leaving with me,” I said.

“Renee…” Tears misted his eyes again, the good kind, pressed out by the gentle hand of Danny’s loving God.

I stepped up to him and lifted a finger to his lips. “Sh…I’ve spoken to a judge,” I whispered. “He’ll set you free.”

I didn’t know it to be a fact, but I was sure that Judge Thompson could be persuaded.

Danny looked unsure.

I had to be careful what I said in the hearing of others. “The one who knows your case. He’ll set you free. Trust me, I have a way. You didn’t do what they put you in here for. You’re wrongly imprisoned.” That was true. I had killed the two men he’d confessed to killing. “I can’t live without you, Danny. Not anymore. You have to be free to take care of me until we grow old. I’m not leaving without you.”

His eyes searched mine, and for a moment I was sure he would protest. But now his need to love me was greater than his desire to follow a more idealistic path.

Danny didn’t believe in violence, but to save me he would kill a hundred men. I saw it in his eyes, a terrible love that quieted any other reason or logic, however well-informed.

I stood to my tiptoes, brought my lips to his cheek and kissed him lightly. “You did well, my love,” I whispered. “You did very well. Now take me away from this hell.”

Danny faced the guards, hesitated one moment, then nodded once.

“We’re leaving now,” he said. “We’re going to set things straight. Do you understand?”

The correctional officers glanced at each other, then nodded. I think they wanted us to leave. I think they wanted us to tell the world about what had happened because, out from under the warden’s thumb, they wanted to set things straight as well.

“No one will stop us,” Danny said again, taking my arm. “No one.”

And no one did.