War Room

It was the closing bell at Watertown Middle School, and Sam didn't want to get caught in the stampede. Kids shot from classrooms and filled the shiny hallway before Sam could limp to his janitor closet on his bum leg. Some spectacled boy rammed into Sam causing him to fall into a wall.

A couple of the big kids laughed and looked over at Sam as he struggled to get to his feet. The bullies took the opportunity to push his housekeeping cart further away from his reach and into more traffic. Mercifully, the pair scurried away, not wanting to miss their bus ride. It was after all the last day of school before Thanksgiving.

After the traffic died down, Sam retrieved the cart and shoved it with him into the closet. Sam was in his sanctuary. The noises died down. He especially liked how quiet things got later in the evening when he could sing to himself and collect his thoughts while working.

Sam sat on a milk crate in the darkness, surrounded by shelves of chemicals and various mop handles and buckets. He used his phone for a flashlight where he found his Bible on a shelf and took a break. As sat there on a crate turning pages, he closed the book and decided to pray and ask God if he did the right thing over helping to get a pregnant Taylor off the street and into medical treatment.

He prayed above a whisper. "Lord, I know I messed up. I didn't want to pray, because it's true, I was afraid you'd say no. And then I thought, it's my job to be weekend director at the shelter; and how many times have I reached out to help those in need without stopping first to pray? Dear Lord, save that girl, save this baby. And, if you don't want me in the middle of it, then it's okay. But my wife and I have been faithful. I'm thinking this is all no accident."
Sam wiped a tear from his eye and sat alone in the dark. His cellphone lit the room as a call came in from a number he didn't recognize.

"Hello."

"Is this Mr. Townes?"

"Yes. Who is this?"

"It's Taylor. You don't recognize my voice." She laughed.

"You sound different. I gave you my phone number?"

"I got it at the house. Anyhow, my boyfriend came back. He sprung me from the drug ward."

Silence. It was like a punch to his chest.

The closet doorknob rattled. Sam nearly dropped the phone.

"You still there?" Taylor prodded.

"What about the baby..."

"I knew it! It's about the baby. Don't be such a creep."

"I'm trying to save you and the baby."

"Oh, wow." She sounded drugged.

"Please, Taylor you don't want to hurt your baby, do you?"

There was someone in her background. Another voice chimed in on Taylor. "Hey you. This is Chris, her boyfriend. I'm taking care of her now. She was trying to be nice. But I don't like your tone."

"I'm sorry. Just let me talk to her."

"He wants to talk to you." Taylor's laugh could be heard.

"Taylor, I can help you. Where are you staying?"

"Oh, you are a softie. We are staying at the Hampton Inn, Syracuse. My boyfriends got money. He's taking care of me, oh, and the baby too."

"Taylor."

Click. She hung up. Sam heard a rustling outside as he put the phone away and stumbled upward from the crate.

Sam tried the doorknob and shook it. He pounded on the door. "Hey, let me out!"

Sam sweated in the room. What was his sanctuary suddenly felt like a tomb. He flicked the light on. He pounded on the door until he heard another voice. It was Ramerez the other night janitor.

"Hey Mr. Townes. You in there?"

"Yes! The door is blocked."

"Someone played a prank. Put a chair under the knob. I think someone likes jerking your chain, no?"