Saving the Dead by Christopher Chancy

followed the beam of Drift’s flashlight with hungry eyes, “Oh Lord Jesus, why have you given the follower of Satan your blessed flame?  Surely, in the hand of an unbeliever it will burn, burn, burn the world to ash!”
    “I don’t see anything, Leo.  No one’s around, no deadheads, not even so much as a cat.  I think whatever this guy is seeing is all in his deluded mind.”
    “Deluded, precluded, disputed.  I dispute Satan’s claims!”  He stabbed a finger at Drifts.  The tip of his finger edged out from the light of the street lamp into the darkness Drifts stood in.
    Drifts shrugged. “Okay, whatever, man.”
    The bearded man’s eyes fell upon the darkness engulfing his finger and screamed.  The three of them jumped when the man leapt back as if scorched and fell to his knees.    He curled into a fetal position while he held his finger and started to sob. “Lord, have mercy upon me!  Have mercy!  I have sinned against you again!”
    Ramirez and Drifts looked at each other.  The arch in Drifts’s eyebrow asked Ramirez What the Hell is this?
    Ramirez gave him a shrug. I don’t know, but we better find out.
    The medic stepped forward and cautiously knelt down by the other man. “Sir?  Sir, are you okay?  Did you hurt yourself?”  The homeless man continued to sob. “Sir, may we take you to a hospital to see a doctor?”
    The bearded man’s head came up. “No!”
    Ramirez didn’t flinch, but Drifts came forward.
    “Listen!” Drifts started to shout but stopped as Ramirez held up a staying hand.
    Ramirez asked calmly, “Why not?”
    The homeless man shook his head. “I cannot go out into the dark.  That is where the sin is.  I should know. I used to dwell in the darkness.  I caressed the shadow like a lover, and it has tainted my spirit.  The darkness has made me do evil, evil things in its name.”  He pointed up at the light of the streetlamp. “But God gave me the light and I swore I would never ever touch the shadow again!”  He looked down at his finger. “Now I have backslid against our Jesus.”
    Ramirez nodded to himself.  He stood up and looked from the streetlight above them to the closest one half a block away.  Its light was out. He took out his own flashlight and shined it on the area below the streetlamp.  His light beamed on an overturned shopping cart.
    “Sir, were you over there?” The bearded man nodded. Ramirez looked at his partner. “Sam, will you check that area out for me?”
    Drifts looked at him as if he had grown a second head. “Are you sure?  What about . . .” the pause in his speech filling whole paragraphs of his unuttered expletives, “him?”
    “We’ll be fine.  Just check it out for me.  Oh, and take Justin with you?”
    “All right, if you say so.  If you need me . . .”
    “I know.  Just let me know what you find.”  Ramirez turned back to the man. “May I see your hand?”
    The other man looked at him with uncertain eyes. “Are you going to try anything?  You’re not going to try to take me back to one of those devil-made institutions are you?  They have more of Satan’s shadows in them than there are out here!”
    “I know.”
    The bearded man stared at him. “You’ve been in an institution?”
    Ramirez focused on examining the man’s hands. “Yes, but not the way you mean.  I’ve treated people with different psychiatric illnesses and had to take them to such institutions for further care.”
    His tone became accusing. “You’ve taken people to those harbors of Satan?”
    “Yes, but only people who were dangers to themselves and others.”
    “I’m dangerous,” the bearded man said matter-of-factly.
    Ramirez looked up into his eyes.  The medic’s eyes were hard, and the homeless man stared back without flinching. “I know.”
    He released the hand he was examining. The bearded man looked down at it, breaking the spell.
    “What’s your name?” asked the medic.
    The other man’s shoulder