Chapter 8
The Sewanee Safe Haven
Abigail sat up from a dead sleep at the sound of the TV in Alex's room. The announcement of the new world census startled her memory of Revelation things she had learned in several seminary classes years ago. She tried to remember the sequence of events and spoke to herself in slow motion while using her fingers to count the events and accent the Revelation episodes to herself.
Putting on a terry-cloth robe, she moved through the hall to Alex's room and quietly knocked, not knowing whether he'd be asleep in front of the TV or was watching it. He flung it open excitedly and pointed at the TV with questioning eyes.
"What does it mean, Abigail? What does it mean?" He knew enough about some biblical things to think it meant something, but he wasn't sure.
She giggled at his excitement and spoke softly to him, "Settle down, Tex. It's just the mark of the beast, that's all. Want to know more?"
"Yes, yes, please another Bible lesson, please!" He pulled up a chair in anticipation, and Abigail patted him on his shoulder to quiet him. She pulled a chair up to his and opened an illustrated Kids' Activity Bible and turned to the Book of Revelation.
The last week had been quite a shocking adjustment to both of them. Abigail was getting accustomed to Alex's Godly but pragmatic ways. Alex was becoming used to Abigail's sarcastic, ungodly attitudes. Somehow, they were moving towards each other, more from trying to pass the time and to avoid boredom. It helped to have some computer games, but their own favorites were some kids' games they had never heard of before like Monkeys in a Barrel, to name only one, while Angry Birds completely frustrated them.
They heard about the dead in Chattanooga because of the Oak Ridge meltdown. The angels had kept their promise about the uncommon breeze, more like a storm, that pushed most of the fallout 20 miles short of them. An electronic surveillance camera mounted outside the church showed them a different story. Students who ignored the warnings were dead in the streets—mixed mostly with Sewanee pets—(cats and dogs, with an occasional goat from a nearby farm).
Abigail was becoming used to Alex. Although, she said pointblank to him several days earlier, "Alex, you are one of the ugliest people I've ever known. Has anyone ever told you that?"
Alex laughed in unconcern and remarked, "You're just about the coldest sourpuss I've ever known. You're like Pendwight in drag." He remembered meeting Pendwight at All Saints when he couldn't speak. He recognized him from a picture in Abigail's wallet.
They both laughed together, "But I can do something about being a sourpuss, can't I?" remarked Abigail.
"You got me there," replied Alex.
Abigail liked the non-threatening Alex. Alex never ever looked at her as anything but a sacred guest, and she knew his heart was good. His new excitement for the scriptures forced her to talk about the Lord far more than she wanted; but after all, she was the expert. He needed her, and she felt obligated to help. The reading and explaining of the scriptures were getting to her. She felt her own sour ways fading, and in its place, a more gentle spirit and kindlier ways.
Alex noticed. He never pushed; except once a day, he'd look at her across the breakfast table and asked, "Are you ready to give your life to Jesus this morning, Abigail?" while winking at her.
She'd wink back and went from feeling insulted to a casual consideration, seasoned with humor. "Not today, Alex. Not today."
"How about tomorrow, Sister?" he prompted her while smiling broadly.
"Ask me tomorrow. We'll see."
Abigail turned the pages of the Kids' Activity Bible she had found in the vast library of the vacated priest. They both marveled at how adequate and well-provisioned the facility was. There were exactly four bedrooms, and even a separate room that looked like it was for a pet with a children's gate and a concrete drain in the middle of the room. The communications were astounding. There was a computer that used a big screen TV instead of a monitor. There was a short-wave radio packed away in a storage closet along with two hundred Double-D batteries and an additional hundred C's, with four radios with head phones. There were two canvas duffel bags. Each had a flashlight, one with several changes of clothes for a man, and the other for a woman. In each bag, were a Bible, a new atlas, and a Boy Scout compass. The man's bag had one additional item that was strange, a high-pitched dog whistle. In another room was a life raft with a portable inflation unit, along with two wooden oars, and two bedrolls. Fifteen pairs of assorted sized jeans were stacked and tied in bundles with packaging string.
The kitchen was the largest room and stocked with 180 cans of chicken noodle soup, and 180 (1) lb boxes of shell noodles. There were 50 bags of thin spaghetti noodles with 50 jars of spaghetti sauce of various kinds and brands. In addition, there were 100 boxes of chicken bouillon cubes and 200 jars of mild salsa with a hundred bags of Tostitos dipping chips. Fresh ground coffee in 1 lb cans lined the kitchen counter like red marching soldiers—with a trash bag full of filters. There was 500 gallons of distilled drinking water in a storage area under the kitchen floor.
Bathing water was no problem. There was a fiberglass reservoir of water built in the ceiling that they figured had to contain at least 5,000 gallons. Each bathroom connected to the four bedrooms had an old-fashioned bear-claw bathtub with newly installed massage showerheads with a pull-around shower curtain. The shower curtains were odd. They were obviously bought from X-Men Central Ordering House. They were covered with all the X-men copying different scenes of all their movies that listed all their individual powers. Abigail mentioned that Father Sargon had a pack of young nephews and nieces. They suspected they had much to do with his kiddy fashions.
In what they considered to be the pet room, was a 100 pound bag of Purina Dog Chow. There was a small sweater-like garment hung on the back of a chair, looking like it would fit a medium size dog. A long leash hung from the same chair along with a doggy poop scoop and unused air fresheners. The list continued until it was almost silly. Strangest of all, was a Bible written in Japanese and a Colt 45 pistol. The Colt had only two bullets. They joked about the Colt but didn't touch it. Abigail kept referring to it as her Gov eliminator. She said on several occasions that Alex would probably drive her to kill him. She'd do it to keep him from bothering her about the Bible so much. But they laughed and giggled about it like it was their own private joke.
"Okay, student," she replied sarcastically, "are you ready to learn about God from your resident pagan?"
"Yes, sir!" he replied as he stood up from the kitchen table and saluted her with military courtesy.
"Stop being goofy, Gov," she replied while laughing at him.
With a serious tone she started, "In the end times, there are going to be things happening like great earthquakes and terrible, bloody wars. Some say the wars are going to be between the angels, but others say it will be between God's people and the devil's people. There are even going to be creatures with scorpion tails that will go around stinging those who don't have the seal of God on their foreheads. They will hurt them, but they won't die, although they want to die. The beast, or the Anti-Christ, by another name, will make sure no one can buy or sell anything unless they take the sign of the beast. It looks like that's the mark on the right hand they're getting ready to enforce for the census. It looks like it's all adding up."
"It's just like the news, but the believers are going to have to take on the mark on their head rather than their hand," mentioned Alex.
"Well, the Anti-Christ can call it his mark, but I bet it's the seal of God to the Lord," she remarked.
They continued to read through Revelation for several hours matching some scriptures back to the Gospels for additional backup.
"Who's the Anti-Christ?" asked Alex.
"I don't know, but I imagine it will be a gentile, and those in the know think it will be a European. There's really only two of those, and Montplier is the closest thing we got right now."
"But he's a peacemaker. He pulled the countries together in pea
ce and got the Nobel Peace Award for it. He even got Rome cleaned up enough to reestablish the EU offices. Can't it be an American?"
"Probably not. We're not mentioned much in Revelation. It's like we're sitting this one out, or we're too devastated by all of the trouble we've had. I think I remember it saying somewhere that the eagle would have its wings clipped so it can't fly anymore. Guess who that eagle is? I'll bet the U.S. has been hurt worse than any country in the world from the rapture. You heard the news. The slogan seems to be, 'Don't let them do it to us again.'"
"Sounds like we provided the technology for the mark, according to the news, but the Europeans are controlling all the wealth. They have the golden keys. We're just a distant player, that's all," replied Alex.
He continued, "Did you hear them talking about taking 50 percent of the money believers make and giving it back to the government and reserving some for employers? Believers will have to pull together somehow to survive. I bet they have to go to bartering and trade. When they do, the government is crazy enough to think they're doing it to cheat them out of taxes. What do you think?"
"You're imagination is racing a little. Listen, Gov, this rapture was true, and we're both losers for it right now. The earthquakes and the terrible nuclear things have already taken place. I imagine, the government has better things to do than get that paranoid. Now, Mr. Governor, don't we need to contact your angels to figure out what to do next?"
"You mean, you really believed me?" he asked, shocked.
"Of course! I never said I didn't believe you. I only said I didn't like it. I felt cheated. Actually, I feel cheated more by my Uncle Pendwight's influence over me than by God, now. I know. I'm mellowing a bit."
"A bit! A bit! By Sam's, how about enough to bound over a tall building," he laughed enthusiastically and reached over and hugged her in his excitement. She didn't push away from him but sank into his arms in an exhausted sigh. She started sobbing with small sniffling noises that broke into waves of emotion. This was the first time since the rapture that she had allowed herself to give in to her own inner damage. She needed someone to hold her, even if he was ugly. She knew enough about Alex to know he was 100 percent safe—safer as a person than the building she was under. For that moment, Alex was her lifeline, her fortress, and her granite rock. Suddenly, she sat up, pushed him away, and ran into her own room down the hall. She had embarrassed herself, but Alex noticed that she had picked up the Kids' Activity Bible and carried it with her.
Apollyon's Lair
Apollyon looked at his top lieutenants staring at him blankly from around an immense rock table. The air was rank with smoke and the smell of burnt flesh. Apollyon breathed deeply, enjoying the aroma of his success. His eyes pierced the veil surrounding earth, and he took inventory of those who remained in milliseconds. He was their king and their god. He was in control more now than in tens of thousands of years. This was his time and his kingdom.
"The angels of light, has anyone seen any of them, lately?"
Tare moved within earshot of Apollyon responding, "No, they've disappeared. We know that they'll return, but they don't have the power like before. I've sent hundreds of thousands of our angels into the earth to keep the pressure on the new believers. The minute one appears or proclaims to be one; our people will grind them to powder. We have great sway over the earth right now."
"Duh! It's supposed to be that way, Tare. It's our time, now. I want to encourage anyone with our mark to abuse new believers. I want believers to become open spectacles to the world. I'm interested in Cassidy's capabilities. I doubt that Terrone will make an Anti-Christ. He's just in the wrong location for it. But, those other two are great contenders. I wouldn't be surprised if Angelica doesn't keep her promise and kill the Count."
"Will you try to stop her?" asked Tare while bowing his head near the rock ground around Apollyon. His cowering pleased Apollyon.
"No, only the strongest will win. I designed it that way. I even had Dar-Raven mate with that witch to make sure they had just one more to keep them all off guard. The damage that Cassidy will do can be instrumental in me winning. If she continues on her course, as I believe she will, all those believers will be dead and all at once. I keep whispering thoughts to her, and I'm amazed how responsive she is. Must be that Dar-Raven heredity," stated Apollyon, then shook his head in grateful and amused disbelief.
"Stir them up, Tare. Stir them up. The minute a believer professes their faith, have someone around to take a potshot at them. Take them down hard."