It took a few weeks of constant practice that brought on headaches, but eventually Joey was able to crack the password on his tablet. He came up with the idea after he had been able to hone his ability to get mental schematics of his surroundings. He could now easily unlock the door to his room with his eyes closed—though he relocked it again, never leaving the room—so why not try unlocking the tablet as well.
The internal intricacies of electronics were fascinating, and he often explored them just for fun, but only after he gave himself access to the music app again. His grandparents had stopped checking his tablet, confident that he had no way of hearing “the devil’s music” anymore, so he had no reason to worry about them seeing it. But he was cautious enough to keep the volume low to be able to hear anyone coming in the room. He taught himself how to close the app quickly and hide the icon from the home page with his mind.
Going to Yellowstone with Annabelle was both exciting but scary. He hadn’t left the house in six years and now he was flying across the country, the ultimate adventure. But he also hadn’t socialized with anyone other than his family and tutor in that time, so the prospect of having to talk to other teenagers and strange adults twisted his stomach.
He also worried that Annabelle would catch him listening to the forbidden music. Though she had told him about how relieved she’d been that he’d kept his promise of listening to Christian music, that she believed him and supported him, he did not tell her his secret in return. She hadn’t immediately trusted him that day. The risk of losing her trust again was high.
Once in the sky heading west, Joey made the decision to listen to the metal bands he’d found. The lights on the plane were dim and Annabelle was engrossed in a book. The sound of the engines would muffle that from his headphones, and he could have peace as they went to a destination he was more and more nervous about going to.
His eyelids became heavy and he gave in to closing them, letting the music soak in and saturate his whole body. Joy and comfort swallowed him, and he remained nearly catatonic until their impending arrival was announced.
When he opened his eyes, he found Annabelle glaring at him. “How did you do that?” she said. “Did you read the password from my mind?”
“No,” he said. “I…don’t be mad, okay?”
“You did read my mind, didn’t you. I seriously hate—”
“I swear I didn’t. I figured out how to hack it myself. In my head. It’s a new power, I guess.” She continued to glare, and the fear of her blowing his cover erased all the joy he’d just experienced. “Please don’t tell Grandpa and Grandma. I just…I just really need this music. It speaks to me. It gives me a reason to live and be happy. If I weren’t afraid of going to Hell, I’d have killed myself when I had this taken away from me before.”
Annabelle’s eyes widened. “Joey, don’t say things like that.” She put a hand on his arm. “I know it might seem like you have nothing to live for, but there is one person in this world that believes in you and loves you no matter what. I need you. More than you’ll ever understand.”
Joey looked in her mind, expecting to find a hint of untruth. I’m not ready for this. I’m not ready to die. How do I fix this—
“What do you mean, you’re ‘not ready to die’?” Joey asked. “You wouldn’t kill yourself too, would you?”
He ignored the guilt as she sighed at having her thoughts read. “Never mind. I’ll explain one day. Just know that I love you, okay? You’re all I have left of my sister, and I see her heart in you every day. I won’t tell Grandpa and Grandma about the music, but if you get caught…I don’t know how well I can defend you.”
Joey nodded. He knew she was right, and if he did get caught, it wouldn’t affect just him. There would be another battle, and even if Annabelle still came out on top, she would be an emotional mess all because of him. Getting permission to come to the retreat had been a battle itself, but with the promise that the hosting band was not heavy metal, his grandparents had reluctantly agreed. And as they had left, Joey had caught a glimpse of his grandmother’s mind: Annie better not mess this up.
Nervousness hit like a brick wall when they arrived at the campsite. Teenagers of various ages milled about, some chatting with each other, some listening to instructions by camp supervisors, and some standing alone. Normally Joey would have been one of the loners, but with Annabelle’s status as the popular televangelist’s daughter, she was allowed a supervisory volunteer position. Joey stood close to her, hoping she could do all the talking and be with him the entire five days.
A man approached them, and Joey recognized him as the singer of Disciples Rising, Sam Riley. Sam introduced himself and shook their hands, then said, “Welcome to camp. We’re really excited to have you here. You’re kind of the talk of the whole place, as you might guess. Hopefully you’ll enjoy your time and Pastor Colmyre will maybe mention us in a sermon?”
“Maybe,” Annabelle said. “I know he’s anxious to see what impact this has on Joey.”
“Of course.” Sam explained that the kids would be separated into groups of five and assigned to a cabin and a chaperone. Since they would also be separated by gender in the cabins, there would be times when Joey would be without Annabelle. Alone despite being surrounded by other teens. He hated it already.
Sam introduced Joey to his chaperone, Craig, and suggested he go to his cabin to place his things and claim a bed. Once the two men had walked away, Annabelle took Joey’s head in both hands and spoke softly.
“Listen carefully to me. Do not use your powers in any way. I know it’s hard for you, but since I can’t watch you all the time I need you to promise me you’ll control yourself. Because if anything goes wrong—”
“Grandpa will kill me.”
Annabelle said nothing but her mind said yes. “Everybody knows who we are, so anything that might make Grandpa look bad is bad for both of us. Okay?”
“Okay. I promise.”
But it wasn’t just in the cabin that Joey had to be away from Annabelle. At dinner the kids were assigned to eat with their cabin group, and with the encouragement of their chaperone, share something about themselves. All four of Joey’s cabinmates were equally as unwilling to talk as he was. Despite his promise to Annabelle, he read each of their minds, all of them thinking some form of I hate this or Fuck this guy. He was so busy trying to dig into their minds that he didn’t notice when his turn came.
“Joey? Care to introduce yourself and tell us something about you? Something you enjoy?”
“Um…my name’s Joey and I like music. That’s pretty much it.”
“That’s apparently a common answer at this table,” Craig said, smiling but thinking This is going to be a long trip. “Anything else you enjoy doing?”
“No. I…don’t really get out much.”
“Well, this trip is a great way to get out and make some friends.”
I’m with you, man. This really is going to be a long trip.
That night as he lay on the top bunk, he decided to get into the minds of those he could see, even though it was dark. Craig was asleep, dreaming of sitting across the table from a woman whom he seemed to fancy. The boy above Craig was wide awake, thinking about a dog lying still in his arms. In the next set of bunk beds, the one on the bottom was also asleep, his dream being one of getting backed into a corner in what looked like a high school, surrounded by taller, older kids. The boy above him, however, was looking at his phone, the screen dim in an attempt to avoid being noticed. Joey almost covered his eyes to end the scene in the kid’s head: he was obviously watching porn and there was regular movement under the blanket. He finally did close his eyes and tried to sleep. Convincing himself that he should just focus on enjoying freedom from a locked bedroom was harder than he thought. There was nothing else positive about this experience, and he had little hope that would change.
* * *
For three days Joey endured various group activities, some co-ed, which allowed him to see Annabelle and assure her he wasn’t causing trouble. He felt like an idiot every time they played sports as he had no idea how to play any of it, and had to use the homeschool excuse for why he hadn’t learned the basic rules of baseball or volleyball in gym classes. There was music every night with Disciples Rising playing a few of their songs interspersed with prayer for their healing and gaining of strength. Joey tried to enjoy the music but was craving metal; even though his cabinmate Colin was getting away with watching porn every night, Joey didn’t dare try to listen to music in secret and never had time during the day.
On the fourth day, Joey’s group was led by Sam on a hike around some of Yellowstone’s hot springs. The band members had been taking turns leading the various groups each day, but none of them had been as excited as the front man, and Joey read the man’s mind that it had something to do with the opportunity to lead the grandson of an idol.
Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.
Throughout the morning as they viewed Old Faithful and made their way to other geysers and springs, Sam preached about how God had blessed them all with such wonders, that something as simple as hot water exploding from the ground could have such an impact on millions of people. They could take an example from it, living their life in such a way that they could impact others in the simplest ways. “Spread the word of God in your own special way. Us guys in the band, we chose music as our way to do that. Everyone can find their place in the world, even if it’s just staying in one place and attracting others toward them and the gospel. Like Old Faithful.” He looked at Joey. “Like your grandfather.”
Joey prevented himself from rolling his eyes. Being connected to a man who hated him was getting sickening.
As they continued to walk, Sam focused on each of the boys in turn, getting them to open up and talk about ways they could use their other passions in life as a beacon for God. Joey didn’t listen to any of it, simply focusing on what he would have to say when it was his turn. He only had one passion in life, and listening to music wasn’t really a way to spread the good word. And mentioning his powers was certainly out of the question.
“Joey, what about you? What are you most passionate about in life?”
“Music. That’s it. Nothing else.”
“Do you play an instrument, or sing?”
“No.”
“You’re still young. Perhaps you could learn.”
Grandpa would never allow it. Joey shrugged. “I just really like listening to music. It’s the only thing that makes me happy.”
Sam raised an eyebrow. “The word of God doesn’t bring you any happiness? Any inspiration?”
“Sometimes. But whenever I find a passage that seems to mean something or is inspiring, I start to feel like it doesn’t apply to me. I don’t think God cares for me too much.”
Sam stopped and put his hands on Joey’s shoulders. “You should never think that. God does care for you. Whenever a piece of scripture speaks to you, listen to it. Listen to whatever speaks to you and makes you feel good about yourself. Does music speak to you?”
“Definitely.”
“That’s great, and I can absolutely relate.” Sam winked, then motioned for them to continue walking. “I’m curious. What other bands do you like? Besides mine of course.”
Joey listed a few of his favorites that he’d heard recently. Sam and the others looked at him and shook their heads.
“I’ve never heard of those bands,” Sam said. “I’ll admit I don’t listen to a whole lot outside of rock or pop. What genre are they?”
“Heavy metal.”
They all stopped again. Sam stared at him in shock, and the other boys looked at Joey with a mix of confusion, disgust, and fear. Joey thought perhaps he should have lied to avoid the possibility that any of them shared his grandparent’s view of his preferred genre of music.
“Joey.” Sam stepped toward him again, and Joey read in his mind a silent prayer for strength. “Does your grandfather know this?”
Before he could answer, Colin spoke up. “Didn’t he recently do a sermon about that? Music of the devil or something?”
“Yes, he did,” Sam said.
Joey’s anger boiled at their revelation. He was forced to watch a replay of every one of his grandfather’s sermons, and more and more often he knew he was the subject, even though he was never mentioned by name or relation.
“Oh boy, wow,” Colin said, stepping closer. “Maybe that’s why he’s here. Pastor Colmyre won’t want to be caught with a devil-worshipping grandson.”
“I don’t worship the devil.” Joey glared at the older boy. “These are Christian metal bands. Their lyrics have a great message.”
“Christian metal?” Colin laughed, and two of the other boys joined in, while the fourth continued to share Sam’s shock.
“That…that is quite the oxymoron,” Sam said. “Christians did not invent heavy metal. These so-called Christian metal bands may claim to want to bring non-believers to the light, but the opposite is likely to be true. Turning Christians away from God with something invented by those with satanic roots.”
Joey stared in disbelief. “Did Christians invent rock music? Or country? Or Hip-Hop? I’m pretty sure they didn’t, yet here we are at a retreat hosted by a Christian rock band. The style of music has nothing to do with it. It’s all about the message, isn’t it? It’s the words that speak to us. Yes, it’s the music itself that I love most, but the words teach me about strength, about how God can help me, and I follow that. I try to, anyway. The only difference between them and you is they turned up the distortion on their guitars.”
“And they scream,” Colin said. “How do you even understand what they’re saying?”
This time Joey did roll his eyes. “It’s not all screaming and growling. A lot of it is actual singing, and that’s the kind I prefer actually. Maybe you should open your mind. You want people to open their mind to God, how about you open yours to expanded ways of spreading his word?”
None of them spoke, so Joey zoomed between their minds. This kid is nuts—Going to hell—What a dummy—Knew he was weird—Lord God, help me heal this child—
“I don’t need healing,” Joey found himself saying as the anger built up, and turned to each of them in turn. “I’m not nuts and not a dummy. Maybe I am weird and going to Hell but I’m doing my best not to. I really am.”
All five pairs of eyes were wide and looked at each other as if searching to see if they were the only ones thinking they’d had their minds read. With trembling hands, Sam said, “Joey…I’m…worried about you. I think maybe you need a little more intervention than we can provide.”
“I don’t need intervention. I am who I am and there’s nothing anyone can do about it. My grandpa hates me. I know you guys think he’s the greatest thing, but I can tell you he doesn’t follow the Bible as strictly as he says he does.”
Everyone ignored that, and Joey was flustered that all of their minds were still on the fact they’d been read moments ago.
“I dare you to do that again,” Colin said, his voice soft. “Tell me what I’m thinking.”
Joey read his explicit thoughts, and even though he told himself he should pretend he didn’t read it, he did anyway. “You just said ‘I love cheesy fries.’”
Everyone looked at Colin who was gaping at Joey. “Oh my God, he’s legit a demon.”
Joey knew he had just made a huge mistake. “I’m not,” he said, knowing he was not convincing.
Sam was still trembling, clearly trying to remain calm. “Are you saying Pastor Colmyre is a liar?”
“What are you talking about?”
“He’s said it a bunch of times. Demons can read the minds of even the holiest of believers. Does…does he know you can do that?”
Joey felt that any answer was a bad answer, but no answer might be worse. “N—no. I’m not a demon. I’m just…weird.”
Sam slowly took out his cell phone. “I think maybe we should head back to camp. I’m going to call for a ride. Stay here.” He stepped away from the group to make the call.
“So, did you think you were gonna turn all of us into Satan worshippers? Make us all go to hell?” Colin said. “Stick it to your grandpa?”
“No. You’re already going to Hell with all that porn you watch every night and what you were thinking of doing to that Christine girl yesterday. That was a wild, nasty ride of a daydream you had.”
The other three boys gaped at Colin for a moment, and Joey was glad that at least for a short while he was no longer the center of attention. Colin’s face grew red with rage. “You—you know what, demon? Didn’t your grandpa say that demons should die by the hands of the holy? With Jesus’s power?”
“He also said those who watch pornography are the victims of demons. Maybe you’re the demon.”
Colin’s snarl turned into a thoughtful smirk. “Sure. I’ll say I’m your victim. I’ll say I had to kill you before you tempted anyone else.”
Before Joey could comprehend Colin’s words or read his mind for further details, the older boy wrapped an arm around his neck and pulled him along as he clambered over the railing of the boardwalk. Joey heard the other three boys gasping and telling Colin to stop. “No! I think that’s a bad idea. Don’t do it!”
Colin did not listen, and Joey saw the bright blue bubbling, steaming water of Crested Pool getting closer. He writhed against the pull, scratched the arm that held him, but it did little to slow his attacker down. Closing his eyes, Joey tried to get a schematic of his surroundings. He’d never tried it outside before, but now was the best time to try. And it worked, giving him a basic, blurry topography of what was likely a fifty-foot radius. There was something that resembled a rock close by, so he commanded it to fly at Colin’s head. It hit, but it was too small to stop him.
Only a few steps from the pool, the heat radiating from it, Joey detected the boardwalk they had come from and forced a section of it to break off. He brought one of the posts forward to hit Colin hard in the back. This time Colin stumbled from the impact, bringing them both to the edge of the pool and leaning forward.
In an instant Joey made the post come at them from the front to attempt to stop them both from falling. But the post was only long enough to stop Colin, slamming into his chest like a baseball bat and sending him backward onto the ground. Joey continued forward, headfirst into the pool.
The agony of burning skin hit fast and hard, and he imagined himself in a boiling pot. The pain soaked into his entire body like a sponge, then suddenly the pain was gone. There was heat that filled him and pulsed from him as if preventing the boiling water from touching him. He was afraid to open his eyes but sensed where the light of the sun was to know which way was up.
Being locked in a room for six years meant he had never learned to swim. He tried to reach up, only his hands making it out of the water. The air outside felt freezing on them, and when he sank deeper in his failure to get his head out, his hands felt the pain of burning again before the heat soaked in and pushed the pain away.
I’m gonna die and go to Hell. I’m gonna die in a boiling pot and go to a boiling place.
But then he remembered Annabelle’s words. I’m not ready to die. I need you. More than you’ll ever understand.
His lungs began to ache and he fought the urge to take a breath. An attempt for a schematic in search of an object for help brought nothing but solid rock wall all around him. And water.
Water. It wasn’t an object, but there was no better time to test it out than now.
He used his last bit of energy to thrust his arms downward, imagining himself pushing all the water below him down with such force that the pressure would send him upward. Around him it felt like every molecule of water was obeying his orders, flowing down to the bottom of the pool in a wave that sent a vertical rush from directly below him that carried him up and out of the pool.
The freezing blast he had felt on his hands now enveloped his entire body. The geyser sent him nearly five feet in the air and forward until he collapsed in a heap on the ground beside the pool.
He heard a few distant screams between his coughs. Slowly he pushed himself to his feet, trembling from the scare and surprise of being alive. He looked up toward the boardwalk.
Colin had rejoined the other boys who all stood at the broken section of railing. One of them kept saying, “Oh God, oh God,” while the others shook in fear. Sam was beside them, then jumped down and slowly approached Joey.
“Are…are you all right?” he asked, unable to hide his terror.
Joey looked down at himself, his clothes clinging to him, his wet hair dripping down his face. Heat still pulsed from his skin, which looked slightly red but otherwise unscathed.
Sam took a few more steps closer, studying the boy that had just flew himself out of a pool that should have killed him. He reached a tentative hand out and touched Joey’s arm, recoiling immediately in pain and examining his hand for burns. “Maybe we should get you to a hospital,” he said.
Joey finally met the musician’s gaze. He looked deep inside the man’s mind searching for his true motive. There was concern fighting against the most intense fear. A belief that God was protecting him while in the close proximity of a demon. And a hope that the hospital would evaluate him for more than just physical injuries.
“No,” Joey said. “I’m fine.” He looked up at Colin and saw a mind mixed with horror and relief that he had been rescued by the very thing he was trying to get rid of. “And so is he,” Joey continued, nodding toward Colin. “Thanks to me. Tell me what kind of demon saves the life of his attempted murderer?”