November 22, 2004

Missionary Man: The Mission

Last week, mild-mannered missionary Leonard Wilson pushed the button on the mysterious watch, and his life was forever changed. We find him now on his motorcycle, riding to the place to which he had been directed by the guy in the watch.

Gradually the tiled-roof houses of Ciudad Capital came into view. The capital city of the island “republic” was not very impressive, although it was somewhat popular with the tourists. As Leonard weaved his way through traffic to the center of the town, he saw something that put ice in his veins.

For three years now he had labored tirelessly at the Iglesia Bautista de Ciudad Capital. The congregation was running around a hundred now, and they had just completed a building, of which his people were very proud. Now, as he rode past where the building should be, he saw that all that remained of it was a smoldering ruin. A couple of police officers were there, taking notes.

He was temped to stop and inquire about what happened, but thought better of it. His mind racing, he gunned his motorcycle toward the airport.

The airport was on the far end of town. Arriving there, he found Avenida de la Revolucion and took a left as he had been instructed. Sure enough, a couple of kilometers into the jungle was a little hut on the right. He turned his motorcycle and drove right through the opening that served as a door. Then he stopped. As his eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, he had a sinking sensation.

“What in the world...??” Leonard suddenly realized that he was being lowered, motorcycle and all, into the ground, like he was on an elevator. The elevator continued to descend until he could no longer see the opening in the hut—in fact—he could no longer make out the hut. Everything was pitch black, and the only sensation the missionary had was that he was still descending.

After what seemed like several minutes, the elevator came to a stop, and at the same time, a very disoriented Leonard was flooded with light. He squinted, trying to make out his surroundings. Finally, he was able to make out a form moving toward him. It was the man he had seen in the face of the watch.

“Greetings, Mr. Wilson, and welcome to the field laboratory of World Missionary Defense. I am the director. Codename The Backpacker.”

“Where did you come up with that codename?”

“It’s a long story. I’ll have to tell you sometime. Right now, we have things to do. I need to show you your equipment.” The Backpacker started to turn away.

“It just seems” continued Leonard “that if your codename is ‘The Backpacker’, you should have a backpack or something.”

The Backpacker sighed. “Just follow me.”

Seeing that he was not going to get an answer to the whole backpack issue, Leonard followed the man down a long, cement hallway, illuminated by fluorescent lighting. He pushed his motorcycle with him. Presently, they entered a large room that appeared to be a laboratory of some sort. The walls were lined with all kinds of computers and communication devices. The tables on the center were filled with gadgets and tubes that you would associate with a laboratory.

The Backpacker turned around and looked at Leonard. “Are you ready for your first mission?”

“I guess so. After all, I am a missionary.” The feeble attempt at humor fell flat. “What I would really like to know is what happened to my church.”

The Backpacker ran his hand through where his hair might once have been. “Listen, Leonard, there are forces at work that you have not begun to imagine. For two years we have been tracking the activities of a group known as CBS.”

“Central Broadcasting Service?”

“No, Christ-less Bankrolling Society—although there may be a connection. After all, how did someone with Dan Rather’s face ever make it onto TV. Kind of makes you wonder. But I digress. We suspect the Christ-less Bankrolling Society of funding several anti-missionary movements in the recent years. They obviously stand to lose if the cause of Christ advances.”

“How exactly do they stand to lose?” wondered Leonard.

“OK, you’re going to have to pay more attention here. Their name is the ‘Christ-less Bankrolling Society. You do the math. Anyway, these are the guys who were behind Basil’s untimely demise.”

“Did they destroy my church building as well.”

“Uh oh” said The Backpacker, in a not very reassuring way. “This is not good.”

“Why? What?” The missionary was officially confused, and not a little disconcerted.

“I did not know about your church. This means they have connected us to you, and are sending you a warning.”

“Well, it’s not working” Said Leonard, surprising himself with the words coming out of his mouth. “These guys messed with the wrong missionary. What do I do now?”

“Glad to see you are fully on board. Obviously our first task is to get CBS off this island. Then, we will fight them on a worldwide scale. If you are in, we will get you your equipment.”

“Oh I’m in” said Leonard, still thinking about the pile of rubble that had been his church. “Let’s get going.”

Next week: Equipment

Posted by Andrew on November 22, 2004 11:24 AM.

Comments

Posted by: Nate at November 25, 2004 8:32 AM