The Trinity Game

turned the radio off. “Let’s see, we’ve got the gambling industry—the mob, the casinos, and now the government—”
    “Don’t forget Wall Street,” said Trinity. “For all we know, I might start predicting closing numbers of the Dow Jones.”
    “And Wall Street,” Daniel agreed. “Then we’ve got probably a dozen religions, including various sects that compete for the title
Christian
—”
    “Including your friends at the Vatican,” said Trinity.
    “You’re too sinister about the Vatican. They just want you contained.”
    “Yeah, in a pine box.”
    Daniel waved it off. “Suffice it to say, you’ve got a lot of powerful groups in your fan club. What do you know about Samson?”
    “Had a soft spot for Delilah,” said Trinity. He followed with a just-trying-to-lighten-the-mood gesture. “I don’t know anything. When the world turned upside down, I told Jennifer to ask around and get me the best bodyguards in the business. She was a bright kid, I could give her jobs like that.”
    Daniel thought back to Trinity’s dressing room. “Not
was
. She
is
a bright kid. She left your dressing room a couple minutes before the bomb went off.”
    “Only because I sent her out,” said Trinity. “Look, I see where you’re going with this, but I’m telling you, you’re barkin’ up the wrong tree. Jennifer Bartlett’s one of the good guys. I’d bet my life on it.”
    “You did,” said Daniel.
    “Doesn’t prove anything.”
    “No, it doesn’t. I’m just exploring different angles.”
    They rode in silence for a while. It was an easy silence, and Daniel felt a profound sense of wholeness he hadn’t felt in a very long time. He’d always told himself that cutting toxic people from your life was essential to becoming an independent adult. Part of the process of self-actualization, as the psychologists called it. And that’s what he’d done when he walked away from Trinity. But Tim Trinity was the only family Daniel had ever known. He was father, mother, uncle…protector, provider, teacher.
    He was everything. Even if he was a con man.
    Leaving may have been the healthy choice, but when Daniel walked away he left a lot of himself behind. He could admit that now. Being with his uncle again did pick the scabs off the old wounds, but it also forced him to remember the love he had for the deeply flawed man who loved him.
    Although Daniel hadn’t said a word, his uncle seemed to pick up on it.
    “Look at us,” said Trinity, “no silk suit, no dog collar, cruisin’ down the 77 in a rusty old beater…” His hand swept across the sun-drenched rural Alabama landscape. “Just like the old days, eh?”
    Daniel smiled back at him. “Yeah, kinda.”
    “But this time, we really are on a mission from God. That story I sold you when you were a child…” Trinity lit a new cigarette, “…it was prettier than the truth, and I wanted your world to be prettierthan the one I lived in. Only so many times I can apologize for that. But think about where we are now! That pretty story—that fantasy—has become manifested in reality.”
    “In the fantasy, people weren’t trying to kill you.”
    Trinity chuckled. “Well, I guess that’s the downside of reality.”
    Daniel couldn’t help but laugh. “Hell of a downside. Look, Tim, don’t go getting all messianic on me. At best, you’re a modern day Elijah or something. But you’re not the sacrifice. I’m going to keep you alive. And I’ll need your cooperation with that.”
    “You got it,” said Trinity. “I don’t want to die if I don’t have to. But I’m seeing this thing through, all the way. Whatever God wants. Whatever the cost.”
    “Can’t argue that.” Daniel squinted against the sun, and a wave of fatigue rolled over him. The last day had used up a lot of adrenaline, and he’d only gotten a few hours’ fitful sleep at the cabin. He pulled the truck to a stop on the shoulder and threw it into park. “Listen, you mind taking the wheel for a spell? I’m feeling a little ragged, just need to rest my eyes an hour or two.”

D aniel drifted with the current, just below the surface. He felt his consciousness moving through space-time, aware that he was being transported on the smell of dry, dusty grass.
    It took him back to the Winnebago, back to the tent revival circuit in summertime.
    It was always such a rush, pulling into the dirt parking lot next to the big white tent, looking to see which other preachers’ RVs were