Excerpt from

"Oh, Dad, Dad!" Trans shouted, vaulting over boxes to get to his Father's outstretched arms. He hugged his dad tightly, bursting into tears. By now Transelthon was completely visible.

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Chapter Eighteen:  “It’s All Over”

A Character story about reverence.

"Oh, Dad, Dad!" Trans shouted, vaulting over boxes to get to his Father's outstretched arms. He hugged his dad tightly, bursting into tears. By now Transelthon was completely visible.
"It's all over, Son. You did a great job!" his father assured him.
By the time Trans had cried out all the tension, the three men were securely shackled. He watched as Nick and Art were ushered past him. Trans turned to the Inspector. "I'm- I'm sorry I had to turn you in, Inspector. I-I was hoping what my dad suspected wasn't true but-"
"Trans, I want to show you something," Captain Pickwin interrupted. He led Trans past the overturned boxes toward the radio equipment. "See this," he said pointing to a hole in the ceiling. "This bullet hole was supposed to be in you. The Inspector saved your life. Nick aimed to kill you, and the Inspector tackled him, causing the gun to discharge into the ceiling."
Trans stared numbly at the hole for a few moments and then turned to the Inspector. "Wh-why did you do it, Inspector, if you knew that I knew everything?"
"I-I just figured you were too nice a kid to get killed so young. Anyway," he continued after a brief pause, "that religion stuff you and your Dad kept preaching at me kind of got to me. I thought I was tricking you, and now it seems you were getting to me." He then turned to Mr. Gringle. "Would you come down to the jail and tell me more about, you know, forgiveness?"
"It would be our privilege, Inspector," Mr. Gringle assured him through tear-filled eyes.
As the Inspector was ushered out, Trans turned to the Captain. "You know, Captain, this whole idea was my Dad's. He's the mastermind behind catching Nick the Knife and the Inspector."
"Yes, so I gather. In fact, I was telling your father on the way here that he should have called me when he first suspected something. This was just a little too dangerous for our prize agent," he said with smile, ruffling Trans' hair.
"Well," Trans declared proudly, "my Dad told you that if we had the Lord to help us, that was all we needed."
"So he did, Trans, so he did. Mr. Gringle, I too owe you an apology. I really thought that religion stuff was all talk. I guess I was too proud to recognize my need of God. But you and your son have shown me in the last week how to live it. For that I want to thank you. Your kind of Christians are a vanishing breed." The Captain caught what he said and all three laughed.
"What do you say that we just thank the Lord for what He has done today," Mr. Gringle suggested. The three bowed their heads there in the warehouse and gave thanks for His wisdom and protection.
On the way back to headquarters, Trans and his Dad shared with each other the events of the last hour. When they got to the radio message, Mr. Gringle asked, "Trans, I understood everything about the message except the last part. What did 'tunaep' mean?"
Trans looked a little embarrassed. "Well, I was trying to spell Pistachio Street backwards, and, well, I forgot how to spell it frontwards. So I just gave the name of a nut I could spell."
The Captain and Mr. Gringle had a hearty laugh as Trans' face turned red. "Well, my boy, I see it's past time for you to get back to your school work again."
It goes without saying that Trans was famous the next morning when the papers came out with the headline, INVISIBLE BOY CATCHES NICK. Once home again, the kids at school all flocked around Trans, shaking his hand and looking at his souvenir wrist radio. "What are you going to do with all that money?" his classmates asked enviously.
"Oh, after we gave a tenth to the Lord, my Dad put the rest in the bank for my college. Now I have to study hard so I can get to college, he says." When they asked him to turn invisible for them, Trans simply answered that he couldn't do it any more, that the chemical had worn off and he couldn't make any more. Still, it was a month before his life was back to normal.
One April evening, Mrs. Gringle heard a noise of bottles striking together in the basement. She opened the door and called down the stairs, "Trans, what are you up to?"
"Nothing, Mom. I'm just working with my Chemistry set."
"And what are you making?"
"Nothing special, Mom. I'm just mixing all kinds of chemicals together to see what I can come up with next."
Mrs. Gringle slowly closed the basement door and turned her head upward. "Dear Lord," she sighed, "won't that boy ever learn?"