The Trinity Game

Jerusalem…
    Andrew Thibodeaux loved the singing. He loved the pilgrimage. Loved being part of something larger than himself, part of a tribe, loved being at the center of a fast-changing world.
    And he loved his secret knowledge.
    Because he knew what God was planning.
    He inched up I-85, willing his old truck not to overheat from excessive idling. The traffic was getting worse. He switched on theradio and spun the dial to a local talk station. One of those
Morning Zoo
–type programs, a couple smart-mouth jocks yukking it up at the Lord’s expense.
    –“…Can you believe these morons? They come to our city, no place to stay, no thought to how they gonna look after themselves—”
    –“My point exactly. And I aim to fix it. So, for any wingnuts listening: I had breakfast with God this morning. He said to tell you: ‘False alarm. Go home.’”
    –“Seriously though, we gotta read this update: The Atlanta Police Department has cordoned off the area around the Tim Trinity Word of God Ministries, where the parking lot has become a tent city. There’s no more room, do not go there. Same thing with Centennial Park. It’s cheek-by-jowl, and police are turning new arrivals away.”
    –“And don’t even dream of going to Buckhead, ’cause you
will
get your ass kicked. Rich folk don’t dig on hippies pitching tents on their lawns, pissing on the azaleas, and coming to the door begging for water.”
    –“Well said, brudda, and they got
mondo
private security up there. You get your ass kicked by Wackenhut, you will
know
your ass has been kicked, know what I’m sayin’? No ifs, ands, or buts.”
    –“And besides, the police have already confirmed Trinity is not at home and not anywhere in Buckhead.”
    –“He’s. Not. Even. There. Get it, people? So, for your own sake—and frankly, I don’t care if you do get your ass kicked—but for your own sake, please do not go to Buckhead. It’s getting pretty tense up there, and somebody’s gonna really get hurt if you people don’t get the hell back downtown.”
    –“Of course, that don’t mean you should go downtown. One more time, for the slow kids in the class: You should turn around,leave Atlanta, and go home. All we’re saying is stay especially out of Buckhead.”
    –“Think we beat that point to death, brudda?”
    –“Well, these people ain’t exactly paddling with both oars in the water…”
    Andrew shifted from neutral into drive as traffic again picked up to a crawl. The radio jocks were pissing him off with their attitude, and now he questioned the wisdom of calling that Julia Rothman woman. Maybe she was just part of the “Liberal Media Elite” that Rush was always talking about, just looking to mock the real Americans whose faith in God helped build this country.
    –“Next item…The governor and the mayor have released a joint statement—probably the first time those two ever agreed on anything. It reads: ‘The City of Atlanta remains open for business. If you’re a business traveler, rest assured that your hotel reservation will be honored. Reserved rooms are not being given away. Conventions have not been canceled, and the Georgia High School cheerleading finals will begin tomorrow as scheduled. You will need to add significantly to your estimated travel times in and around the city, but the city is open. If, however, you are planning a trip to Atlanta because of recent media reports concerning Reverend Tim Trinity, please reconsider. There are no hotel rooms left anywhere in the metropolitan area, and we cannot have millions of people living in our parks. We’re a hospitable city, but there is simply no room at the inn, and there is a limit to our patience.’”
    –“Whoa. Strong statement, doncha think?”
    –“I like the way they tried to thread the needle: Businessmen please come, whackjobs stay away.”
    Andrew snapped off the radio. None of it applied to him. He could live in his truck, he had money for food and water, and oncehe made himself known to Reverend Tim, he would be welcomed like Lazarus from the tomb. But there was clearly a dark side to this pilgrimage, and he was seized now by the thought that some of these people might not be true pilgrims—that something bad could happen to Reverend Tim.
    As the truck crept into the city, he saw a handmade banner, painted on a white bed sheet, hanging from an overpass.
    THE MESSIAH HAS RETURNED

Presidential Suite – Westin Peachtree Plaza…
    “F