Chapter 2
In The Twinkling Of An Eye
Alex Tabor got up off his knees at the All Saint's altar in Sewanee. He saw several people crying and sobbing hysterically, then pulling their hair and wringing their hands in pain and confusion. He felt he was at an Arab wake; their sorrow was heart wrenching.
He noticed a rather distinguished yet odd-looking, man, with a high-balding head in the front pew, who was shredding programs, then tearing apart some pew Bibles. When the man was done, he started scribbling on a piece of paper. Alex approached him and carefully tapped him on the shoulder. The man turned to him; and immediately, Alex noticed he wasn't grieving like the rest but seemed angry, even enraged. The man pushed a note into Alex's shirt pocket, quickly got up, and ran out the front doors of the church.
The note said, "I'm a professor of religion. God took the fanatics and left me here. I hate God for this. It's all His fault. How could he take all those idiots and leave an educated man like me behind? How? How dare He?"
Alex shook his head and wondered how a person so close to the truth could miss it so much. Even Alex heard about getting saved because he had heard it from the kids that worked at his garage. He used to hear them witnessing to the other kids about Jesus, and he was sure they weren't left behind. He had arrived at All Saints just in time to see everyone disappear that included hearing that heavenly trumpet and the ear-shattering shout of an angel that shook the building, "It is time!"
It didn't take a real genius to know he'd been wrong. He had run to the altar and surrendered his life to Jesus. He might have missed it this time, but he determined to be ready if and when it happened again. He walked slowly out onto the church sidewalk and watched college kids scattered around the university lawn. Some lay on the ground still crying while others were leaning against the campus trees and rock walls just staring without emotion as if in shock.
There were kids coming out of dorms mystified by their missing roommates. Others, having breakfast at the Quindnunc Café, watched a waitress disappear before them that let a serving platter full of food and dishes crash to the floor. A cook disappeared along with the assistant manager who was talking on a wall phone to an employee about their work schedule. The phone hung like a limp arm while simply swinging carelessly back and forth where he wasn't anymore.
For some reason, several coeds ran up to Alex thinking he may be a priest since they saw him walking from All Saints. "Help us, please, father. Help us. What can we do? What can anyone do?"
Another girl grabbed at his lapel while screaming into his face, "God took my friends! I called home to my parents. My mother and sister are gone too! Oh, Lord, what can we do?"
"You're asking me? Girl, if your mother was taken, then she must have told you about being saved, about giving your life to God. I overheard some kids talking about it at my garage. I didn't have a mother to tell me about it. Go take care of it. Go right in the church and take care of it. No, do it right here."
As he turned and walked away from them, he looked back and watched as they went to their knees and begging God to forgive them, then asking Him to come into their hearts. He thought, "I knew they knew how to do that. They don't have any excuse."
He mumbled, "I'm going over to the bookstore to see if I can find any books on this stuff. The real pros on this stuff are gone. It's home study time now. I'm not going to miss it next time—if there is one."
Aaron, Joseph, Caleb, and Isaac walked together up University Avenue towards All Saints. "Kind of quiet compared to usual," replied Caleb as he looked at a few stumbling stragglers. He looked more at several unmanned cars, their motors still running—some had crashed into campus trees—others were slammed against other parked cars—one had jumped the curb dismantling a local porch all the way to the front door (as if it wanted in but no one invited it).
All four of them had their wings extended in plain sight. They weren't concerned about being seen. Enough was happening and had happened that it just wasn't important. They knew this would end soon. Darkness was falling. It had the feel of heavy soot around them with the shades of dark gray tones falling from the sky and in the air they breathed. Night was approaching at an alarming speed. They only had so much time before it took completely over.
Joseph answered Caleb while pointing to some kids walking together on the other side of the street, "Not as quiet as it should have been."
Aaron nodded sadly in agreement as Isaac asked, "Where's Irish, Aaron?"
"She's helping greet the newly transformed. I heard little Grace was lead teacher in their first class of Heaven 101. That's kind of scary but thank the good Lord for growth. I just hope she doesn't tell them about the chewing tobacco. They may not take her seriously if she does."
"Why do you still call her 'little' Grace? She's at least 6'2," now, and has been doing a great job on the transformation squad for the last ten years," stated Caleb challengingly.
Aaron answered shaking a how-dare-you finger at him, "Since I'm the commander of the angel legions and was directly involved in her becoming a full-fledged heir-servant, I'll call her what I want. I'll never forget her as a new creation. She was the goofiest new creation I've ever known. She even got on Irish's last nerve if that tells you anything. I must admit that she turned out quite well—one of the best. She and Irish hang together every chance they get. In fact, I have to pry them apart to get some personal time with Irish."
"Joseph, didn't I hear that a captured dark angel said that Dar-Raven is gone for good?" asked Isaac.
"Yep, the Dark Father threw him right into the hell hole for messing things up so much. It may not be for good. Apollyon will resurrect him when he needs to. But for now, yes, he's gone. Did anyone hear the rumor that he took up with a human and had a child?"
“Where did you hear that?” asked Caleb.
“That same dark angel who told us he went to the hell hole. Said he had a grown daughter floating around somewhere,” answered Isaac.
Caleb answered, “Oh Lord, that will be one messed up dark Nephilim. Can you imagine the damage that child could do with the Dar Raven blood racing through their veins?
Alex was walking towards the bookstore when he saw four seven-foot-tall shapes appearing from Sewanee's morning fog. He shuddered, not knowing whose side they were on. He sprinted, dodging in between bushes and rock walls. Just as he got to the bookstore, he dived through its open doors, then fell and slid across its polished wooden floors. He scrambled to his feet and sneaked up to a windowsill to watch their approach. They walked beside each other and looked rather like a group of cowboys strolling to a hometown dance. Then, they saw Alex making his escape into the bookstore.
"So much for surprising Alex. Since Alex has been around Dar-Raven, I imagine, he's a little gun-shy about anyone near seven feet. Won't he be surprised that we're here to see him?" commented Caleb.
They waited in plain sight in front of the bookstore while Alex kept watching them. He was so nervous that he didn't want to take a chance, although these big guys had white wings.
"They could be dark angels disguised as good guys, couldn't they?" he asked himself despondently.
Caleb drew his sword and whacked a tree limb in front of the bookstore in boredom. "Take that and that you spineless piece of godless dirt. This is the Caleb. No one escapes my mighty sword!" Joseph laughed at his goofiness, then caused the tree limb to spring back suddenly to knock Caleb on his back.
"Okay, guys, which one of you did that? I know it didn't do it on its own." Caleb glared at his friends while facing each one individually. Joseph couldn't take it anymore and laughed openly at his human joke.
Aaron commented, "We really have been on earth too long. We're getting a sense of humor from it all. Remind me to look up Cole Watchman when we get back to heaven. I like that guy. He's the funniest preacher I've ever known. We can get him to preach one of those crazy, comical sermons of his. Right guys?"
"Right," answered Isaac.
&
nbsp; Isaac was even older than Aaron by 5,000 years. He was as massive as Aaron and taller by half a foot. His blackness made his own muscles look even thicker than Aaron's. Aaron used to refer to him as "Snow White" in jest. His hair was white as snow, and he had a neatly trimmed white beard.
Isaac was asked to take the commander position on several occasions, but he always believed in his students more than himself—Aaron being one of his best. He pushed them towards those kinds of jobs rather than take them himself. He stuck to instructing them in war techniques and battle savvy.
"Why don't we just sit out front and let him stew awhile. Caleb, be unseen and see what he's up to. When the time is right, show yourself."
"You got it, boss," he replied to Aaron's commanding suggestion. "By the way, how much time do we have before the dark night really settles in?"
Aaron frowned, "Not long. The same kind of trouble our anointing gave the dark angels won't anymore. We aren't in charge like before. This darkness will prevent us from having the kind of influence we've been used to. We'll become only a little more than messengers. All the dark angels are in the open and on earth now. As humans say, 'All hell will break loose.'"
Caleb shook his head, knowingly, and looked around nervously, "I don't think it will take Apollyon long to get his act together. I wonder if he'll figure out what we have in store for Alex? I wonder if Alex will believe it?"
"It will take Apollyon awhile to unscramble it all. He's never had so much free reign. He'll be so busy with what humans call 'low hanging fruit' (the easy stuff) that he probably won't be thinking about people like Alex for awhile, especially if Alex does what we want. Go ahead, Caleb. Check him out, will you?"
Alex watched the angels casually waiting for him without knowing they were. He felt comfortable that they didn't know he was hiding since they hadn't come in yet. Their friendliness, smiles, and laughter gave him a sense that they weren't dangerous, whatever side they were on.
He shrugged and said to himself, "They must be the good guys."
As Alex walked through the bookstore, he pulled books from the shelves and thumbed through them. He carried some to the front checkout counter and stacked them up as if he was going to pay for them—just habit. As he moved to the back of the bookstore near the business office, he noticed a man slumped over his desk with a pool of blood leaking over the desk edges and a pistol in one hand.
"Guess he couldn't stand knowing he missed it. Shame, maybe I could have helped him get ready for the next trip," said Alex out-loud.
"That's what we're counting on, Alex," replied Caleb as he appeared beside him. Alex jumped back, fell against a bookshelf, and started to climb over the top.
"Whoa, big guy, settle down. If I wanted to kill you, you'd be dead. You don't see a sword in my hands, do you?"
"That doesn't mean dirt to me. I saw Dar-Raven change into five different people the first time I met him. You could be him or another dark angel for all I know."
"Dar-Raven is gone. Apollyon shoved his big butt directly into the fiery hole. He's being burned alive right now. As far as another dark angel, think again. You're saved now, aren't you? The Lord told us about it earlier. Would a dark angel know that? They might sense it, but the anointing is gone from the world now. There would be no way for them to tell, not unless you told them."
Alex didn't stop climbing and was at the top of the five-shelf bookcase as it teetered back and forth. The bookcase leaned suddenly and sent Alex flying into Caleb's arms. "Nice catch, I'd say. Now settle down and let me help you get some of the best end-time books I know about. Hey, just think about it. You're going to get advice from one of the good guys for a change. By the way, Aaron is outside, the angel who fought Dar-Raven and shoved his feet into the ground. Don't you want to meet him?"
Alex's face relaxed, and he gave in, "Well, since I've not been known for picking good friends or business partners lately, I guess it's time to take another chance. Maybe, if you're right, my choice will redeem me from my past mistakes."
Caleb helped Alex stand, "You don't have to do that, Alex. You're redeemed by the blood of the Lamb. Praise to the King! All your past is forgiven and thrown as far as the east is from the west. Your heart is like pure, white-driven snow. Your heart belongs to God, now."
"Thanks, I needed to hear that. Now, before I go meet this Aaron guy, can you really help me with some good books?"
Caleb reached and grabbed a Thompson Chain Study Bible and handed it to him. "This will be the most important one. First things first, right?"
Lost Parish
The Vicar, Chad Scottson, was in the middle of the Nicene Creed when several members of his small parish disappeared: the door greeter and his wife; twelve children of five different families; four teenagers; and a first-time visitor who had just been saved at a Billy Graham Crusade the night before and was looking for a new church home. At first there was only a moment of confusion, then hysteria when parents were looking for their children, even under the pews, to no avail. Their shock was more than just grief for their missing children. It was saturated with a cold, final realization of hopelessness that they had missed it too.
A parent screamed, "It's the rapture! It's the rapture! God took my Billie! It's the rapture! His grandma taught him about Jesus, and God took my baby!"
She raced out of the pew towards the priest who stammered, still trying to finish the service, not knowing what else to do. His thoughts wouldn't let him accept it. It couldn't be true. This wasn't real. This was a mean joke—a cruel, mean joke. He hadn't learned it this way. He hadn't taught it this way. It couldn't be true.
"You did this!" screamed the mother, then others chimed in behind her and surrounded the priest in a furious frenzy of accusations. Like the staccato of a machine gun, they fired their insults at him one after another.
"You taught us wrong!" a lady yelled and hit him with her pocketbook.
"You told us all we needed was love? We loved each other so much that we got left behind together, you idiot!" a choir director shouted as he slammed a hymnal across the back of the priest's head.
"You did this! You told us that we didn't need to be reborn like the crazy fanatics," another Mom with missing children screeched. She had hold of his robe and pulled on it and swung him into the front altar.
Another man who had lost three of his children took a swing that punched the priest in the stomach, then the lady kicked him in his side as he hit the floor.
"You said that we'd all make it! You told us that everyone makes it. You told us that it didn't matter what we believe! You told us that God had already saved us all! How could you? My children are gone. My loves are missing because of you!"
The man continued punching at the priest while several women pulled at his face and hair while crying and wailing at the same time. The altar tipped over backwards and sent the priest with the wine and bread onto the floor. His last thoughts before someone hit him across the head with the heavy, brass table cross were, "I'm sorry. I just didn't know. I'm stupid. I got it wrong. I refused to believe them. I just didn't know…"
Half the church ran out the front doors when the mayhem started, not exactly knowing what was going on, but not wanting any part of it. As they came out of the church, they noticed the streets littered with abandoned vehicles. Passengers from several cars were standing in the middle of the street while banging and slamming their fists into the pavement and on car hoods in frustration—some had their Christian wives and husbands driving when it happened, and their children disappeared with them.
Those who realized what happened didn't and couldn't drive home because of the trauma. They walked around the church property while crying uncontrollably and blubbering to themselves, "We were taught to love each other, but that wasn't enough."
Others still in the church made mad dashes for the church phones or pulled phones from their purses and glove compartments. They wanted to see who else in their family we
re left. Some knew all too well.
Warnings—Shaking Of Heaven
Alex walked from the bookstore with Caleb. When he saw Aaron's face, he knew everything was okay. Aaron walked towards Alex and opened his arms wide in an invitation hug. Alex felt the crushing relief of what had happened to him explode within him as he ran to Aaron and gave in to his compassion.
Alex asked hesitantly, "Can I go next time? I'm sorry I wasn't ready this time. Did my kids make it?"
"Sure they did! Yes, you'll make on the next trip, but you have a lot of work to do. That's why we're here, Alex," replied Aaron as he released him, then Joseph and Isaac came to get their hug too.
"We're just glad to have you on our team. But, within hours all hell will break loose. We have a lot to tell you in a short time. You're the man, Alex! You're the man!"
"What do you mean, 'I'm the man?' I don't know anything about this stuff except what I heard those Christian kids saying in my garage. What can I do?"
"Stay here and prepare for darkness to fall."
"That doesn't sound very inviting. What do you mean, 'darkness?'" Alex got a bad feeling about being "the man" like you get when the TI Sergeant picks you for latrine duty.
"You're in the right place at the right time. A terrible nuclear accident is getting ready to take place. The shockwaves of the first catastrophe will hit the U.S. shortly. Oak Ridge will go to meltdown. Japan doesn't exist anymore. Just before the rapture took place, it disappeared into the ocean. The tectonic plates are tearing the earth apart. The North American Plate will be the only one to stay intact. Even South America, which includes the Cocos and Nazca Plate will be torn apart. There won't be an East Coast of the United States left. The earthquakes and other shaking will cause every nuclear facility near and on the East Coast to go to meltdown. Hey, guess what? California will be okay. Go figure. Like a joke, right?"
"We want you to go to a safer place right here on campus. There's an old church that is made of cobblestone on the other side of the campus, just beyond All Saints," said Aaron as he pointed somewhere past All Saints.
He continued, "It has enough structural integrity to withstand the shaking that's going to take place. It's pretty well self-contained. The priest who used to live in a connected cottage is with us now. Before he left, the Lord convinced him to store up provisions for at least six months in the church cellar chambers. When we say cellar chambers, we are actually talking about an elaborate matrix of storage and living quarters. It has a generator and vast supplies with enough fuel and heating oil to last through the winter. He didn't tell anyone what he was doing. Like Noah building the ark."
"You have to go there and not say a word to anyone. There will be fewer left around here than before after the shockwave hits Oak Ridge. You're just on the edge of the 160-mile range. Everyone here on the mountain should end up losing their hair and have internal bleeding. Most will live, but they'll just wish they were dead. We'll change that a little and send a storm to push it as far east as possible. That should give you a break as long as you stay under for awhile."
"Later on, we're going to depend on you to take in a couple of survivors, but you'll know who they are when the time comes. There are other reasons that you're important. Stay low, keep your head down, and hide."
Aaron continued as he occasionally patted Alex on his shoulder to make him feel better, "We can't help you like before. The Holy Spirit is here to indwell, but the great miracles and healings will be the exception from now on—very rare. The restraints of the Holy Spirit on the world are released."
Aaron bowed his head, acted a little depressed, and continued, "We can only be messengers and advisors with very little interaction. With so many dark angels around, we can't afford to do anything outstandingly exceptional. Don't want to draw that much attention. We really are restricted. The greater the darkness grows, the less hold we have on earth. We can't stay around like we used to. When the darkness gets too great, we won't be able to stay at all. We'll bring you the right people at the right time. The rest is up to you."
"What do you want me to do? I don't understand?" Alex was perplexed and frightened. He didn't understand a lot about the rapture, but he sure understood nuclear meltdown.
"You'll be part of a great revival when the time comes, but right now, we want you down in that cellar. We want you to be our ace to play exactly when we need it. Don't worry, you'll have some company to start with and plenty of books in the priest's cellar library, just like you want. You won't need any of these, but take your new Bible as your own. Go get one more. You have someone to meet on your way across campus. Her name is Abigail. She's Pendwight's niece from Saint Mary's Convent."
"A nun didn't make it?" he asked, then shook his head in disbelief.
Aaron answered seriously, his voice lowering an octave in emphasis, "Pendwight is poison, and he's not done. Stay away from him. He's done more damage than you can ever imagine. He's taught error to so many kids that it's unbelievable. She's just another byproduct of his sin of disbelief. Stay righteous, Alex. Do you understand? Just because the world has gone to hell in a hand basket, doesn't mean you can do whatever you want. Do you know what I mean?"
"You mean, Abigail, don't you?"
"You catch on quick. Swear an oath to God to stay righteous."
"An oath? Is that like promising something to someone?"
"Yes, a promise to God. It's important, Alex. There can be no give and take on this. No waffle room," Aaron stated with his finger pushing at Alex's chest for emphasis.
"Okay, I swear to keep myself righteous. I swear to treat this Abigail as if Jesus was right next to me. How's that?"
"Couldn't have done it better myself," answered Aaron, then slapped Alex on the back enthusiastically.
"Who's going to teach me about all this God stuff? Like I said, I got just enough of it to get saved and don't have a clue about anything else," asked Alex in desperation.
"Abigail will. She's not saved. That's your job. Her job will be to help you understand this great end-time puzzle. She's had the schooling. Now, she just needs the heart of God."
"We've got to go now. You can call on us through prayer, but remember, it takes longer to respond. The dark angels walk too freely on earth now—without restraint. We'll come, eventually."
"How do I find out about what's going on?"
"Keep your eye on TV, radio, and e-mail. Watch for the Anti-Christ and his contenders. Keep your eye on the new capitol and politics."
"Who would want to fight over the Anti-Christ's job?" asked Alex, having heard the word from time to time but not knowing any details. He felt the evil of the title when he said it more than anything.
"You'd be surprised. You'd really be surprised. Oh, by the way, leave your computer hooked to the Internet and logged on as much as possible. Can't ever tell when someone might send you a message."
Nikki's Gone
Sal lay on an antique twin bed reserved for guests in Nikki's Hillsboro Road apartment. She could see the Baptist church across the street with most folks walking from close neighborhoods to go to church.
There were few churches even operating now. The economic chaos had broken many so-called believers. It seemed to drive them away from God. They just couldn't believe in the suffering. It wasn't supposed to be this way, especially in the U.S. This was a blessed land, wasn't it? How could God let this happen to His favorite nation? How could He let it happen to the nation with "In God We Trust" on their money? How could He? But, this church seemed to be drawing a big crowd anyway. Since it was a nice day, the church was holding services outdoors under a large tent. There were only about 100 people. Sal noticed how destitute they looked. No one had fancy clothes; everything looked ragged and worn-out. Some didn't even have shoes and wore only socks matted with dirt and mud from a recent rain.
"Hey sister, you get a good rest?" asked Nikki as she bounced into he
r room and sat down on the bed beside her. "Looks like they actually have a crowd today. There are only six churches in Nashville still operating. My church, The Lord's Chapel, is one of them." They both stared at the congregation while Nikki sat beside Sal listening to them singing.
"Isn't it great? I love that praise song. How wonderful!" Nikki knew that Sal wasn't a believer, but she wasn't going to restrain herself on her account. Her love for the Lord bubbled from her.
"You know, Nashville was visited by angels lately, don't you?" replied Nikki shoving a newspaper article at her with the blurs of what were supposed to be angel pictures on them, but they looked more like fake UFO photographs, nothing very clear.
"I heard you were like my dad and mom, a believer. Isn't that what you call it?"
"Yes, and no matter how tough it's gotten, God always provided for me. It's been wonderful. Hey, I heard that there were all sorts of angels on Monteagle near Sewanee. I thought about going up there for a visit. Would you like to go? I still got a working car and a full tank of gas. In fact, I had an extra tank installed for emergencies. I guarantee we have more than enough to get there and back. Are you game?"
"Is it pretty? I mean, does the country look pretty? I'd like to see some of Tennessee, but I'm a little tired right now. Can we go another day?" Sal plummeted her head into the pillow and faked snoring.
"Oh no, you don't. I have some friends for you to meet. They're at church right now; but as soon as they get back, you'll be fixed up. They got teenagers at home too. They even have some guys your age. Cuties. I've been keeping my eye out for you."
"Now, that's what I call a sister! I'm sorry, Nikki," she ducked her head and confessed. "I'm not buying into this believer stuff, yet. If they go to your church, are they going to be talking about Jesus all the time?"
"Sal, you're such a skeptic. I have no way of knowing how much they talk about Jesus. You'll just have to find out on your own. I do know one family just got this new kid from a foster program, kind of a troublemaker. He's about the only one who wouldn't talk about Jesus that much. That won't last long around us. His name is Jeff or something. It's the Howard family. I'll see if he wants to come along with the rest of them. We're going for pizza after they get out of church. Not many eating places to pick from anymore, just pizza places, McDonalds, Krystal, Krispy Kreme, and Cracker Barrel." Nikki got up, went to get the church directory, and threw it on the bed beside Sal.
"Hey, Sis, look up the Howard's. There's only one. Put it out by the phone and remind me to call in about an hour. They should be almost halfway through church by now. Reading that Nicene Cree…"
Nikki disappeared before Sal's eyes. Nothing but thin air remained. She turned in confusion and noticed the people in the church tent across the way were all gone too. She stared dumbfounded and confused. Then slowly, she watched as car after car collided in a confused mess, up and down the street, with several cars wrecking without their drivers—right in front of her window. She didn't make a sound as she turned towards the TV in the other room and heard the announcement about Japan. She shuddered under the double impact; and as if in a stupor, she walked into the front room and fell into a sofa chair, not taking her eyes off the TV screen.
The satellite film feed revealed the horrors of her sunken island. It showed the steaming waters where Japan had been only hours before. It continued to show hundreds of miles of floating, dead debris and surface waves lapping at chunks and pieces of humanity that bobbed alongside an ocean of boiled marine life cooked to their bloated gills. The footage was a morbid statement of the frailty of mankind.
When she saw the remaining holocaust of the Korean, China, Russian, Italian, and North African coastlines; she broke down wailing in long mournful tones of pain and depression; she couldn't stop. For some reason, she was now more alone than in her whole life—all in a manner of minutes.
Her family and her island country were gone, and then another terrible realization hit her. Nikki was part of what her dad and mom had talked about. She was part of the rapture, and she remembered it had to do with being a "believer." She ignored them before and secretly laughed at them while thinking they were goofy and silly about all this Jesus stuff.
"Nikki was raptured," she replied to herself in a whisper. "Who's left? Just us godless pagans, I suppose. Jeff? I wonder if Jeff is still around?"
She wiped her eyes with her sleeve and went back to her room to thumb through the church directory. Finding the number, she dialed it, but stopped briefly, trembling so much that she couldn't continue. She didn't want to know; she didn't want to find out. After a minute, she continued again and held the phone to her ear. After the third ring, the answering machine picked up.
"This is the Howard residence. We are so happy you called. Please leave a message at the tone, and we'll get right back to you. Remember, Jesus loves you." Susie Howard's voice spoke with a cheerful upbeat tone that smacked of her Tennessee roots, with more southern charm than southern drawl.
"Jesus did this, you creep!" shouted Sal before the tone came on.
"This is Sal. I'm from Japan and just got here today. Nikki from your church is my auntie. Jeff, if you were left behind too, can you call me? Here, the number is 292-0794. You ought to know the area code if it matters. I'm at 2200 Hillsboro Rd Apartment H-5, the condo units across the street from the Hamilton Baptist Church. Please call me, please. I'm so scared."
She hung up while continuing her speech, "and so angry." She took the directory, threw it across the room, and went into one of her typical rages, kicking her feet and pounding her fists into the bed at the same time.
Boy Named Jeff
Jeff looked around at The Lord's Chapel. Everyone was gone, but he wasn't. He rolled a sleeve up over his shoulder and dug deep in his pockets for a pack of cigarettes. Earlier, he was hoping to sneak a smoke when no one noticed. He proudly stuck a pack of camels in his shirtsleeve shoulder, but not before he lit one and calmly walked around the empty church. He didn't believe what happened. One second, they were here, and the next, they were gone. No one was left. He went back to where the Howard's had been sitting and found Phil Howard's keys and beside it Susie's purse. He rummaged through her purse getting what cash he could, then snapped his fingers knowingly. He had witnessed the rapture. The sign above the church podium said it simply.
"Bring Oil in Your Lamps. Join the Rapture!"
He shrugged in unconcern and followed a previous hunch. Yes, he was right. They all left their purses behind. He went through the church, not missing a one, then went to the front where the collection plates were brimming over, pocketing every dime, cramming money into his pockets till his jeans looked deformed. He figured that he had at least a couple hundred without a lick of work. He moved through the church towards the front. Just before reaching the door, he saw a mirror and stopped to comb his hair. He wore his hair with a slightly greased look, pulled back from his face in a sixties' "Fonzie" style.
His military tattoos decorated his exposed upper arms, and he laughed to himself about all this. He was supposed to be their project. He was supposed to get saved for them and change his life around. What a joke. After all, he was still here, and they were gone—out of his life for good—he had won. His bouts with police and his final juvenile detention set him up for this. Few churches ever cared about kids like him. But, everyone said he was exceptional. He was one of the few natural athletes under State control. His military academy days, before his parents were killed, left him with some exceptional abilities (sharp shooting, track, swim team), which got him far more attention than the others. His natural charm mixed with rebellion made the girls love him, and at 17, he wore his rebellion like a defiant badge that attracted more than a handful of pregnant troubles.
Then, The Lord's Chapel decided to adopt him and get him saved. He was their righteous campaign. Their new Godly project was "The Saving of Jeff." But they were just his steppingstone to freedom—an aggrava
ting one at that. He played nice guy for a while. It didn't matter, now. He was free at last.
He walked slowly towards the Howard's car, and even from the church, he noticed the traffic mess and figured out why. "More of a mess, because of those missing fanatics."
He looked around the parking lot and exclaimed," I need something better than this! I need a tank, a motorcycle, or both, to get around in this traffic!"
High on the top parking lot was exactly what he wanted. It probably drank more gas than he could afford. It was an orange Arnold machine. Five parking places from it was a motorcycle. He ran excitedly towards the Hummer and stared happily into its wide interior. He turned towards the motorbike and wheeled it over, then lifted it up into the backseat.
"Now, this will work!" he shouted while he pulled out a pocketknife and started to hotwire it.
"No way!" he exclaimed and ran back into the church. He started at the front and picked up handfuls of keys, not missing a one. The Honda motorcycle keys stood out easily enough, but the Hummer's were the next to last.
He exclaimed, "Just my luck!"
Once he got the Hummer started, he pushed several parked cars over the edge of the upper parking lot and watched them crash into bottom level of the lot.
"Full tank of gas!" he exclaimed. Seeing two gas gauges, he shouted triumphantly, "No, two full, big tanks of gas! I could almost go to Florida with this much gas. Cool!"
He moved out into traffic while pushing abandoned and wrecked vehicles out of the way instead of avoiding them. Several times, he rolled over the tops of them and landed with ease on the other side, then worked the gears furiously while the tires spun him forward. Seeing his car doing acrobatics, others moved off the road to let him by as he came up behind them.
He finally made it to the Howard's home and pulled up into the driveway, then parked in the double garage and closed the door behind him. Had to keep his "jewel" hid. After all, if he had good taste, so could someone else.
He made a sub sandwich and lay on the couch to take a nap. He hesitated and turned on the TV instead. The devastating overseas news was just starting, which included a news report about the missing people. Governments were making announcements about the financial calamity of so many missing. It seems that some industries wouldn't be able to open for business on Tuesday, especially in the U.S.
"Should have hired heathens, you idiots!" he shouted at the TV "That will teach you!" Jeff laughed and rolled over to get some shuteye.
From his peripheral vision, he noticed the light on the answering machine blinking. He jumped up. Everyone knew the Howard's were in church—at least those who counted.
"Alright! Someone else is still around. Maybe it's a teenager. Could I be that lucky? Better not be some guy. Maybe one of my old girlfriends tracked me down. I doubt they went with the rest." He lunged for the phone—his testosterone raging.
Abigail
Abigail walked from her convent dorm room looking across the campus, visibly shocked by the mayhem. She pulled at her sisterly garb, tearing it off her, and ran back into her room with her clothes half hanging off her in her frantic attempt to escape from them. She knew what had happened. She didn't want to advertise her stupidity anymore by wearing her sisterly clothes. She didn't want the obvious, stupid questions she would get from everyone. "How come you're not gone?" It would drive her crazy.
She thought how much she always listened to her Uncle Pendwight and knew he was still around. He was the one who taught her about avoiding the fanatics and all those serious types. She was determined not to be like them; she had succeeded; she wasn't.
She pulled on a pair of jeans from an old cedar chest. She hadn't worn civilian clothes in over 15 years. She was surprised they still fit. She was able to button and zip them in swift moves just like when she was a kid.
"Haven't lost that girlish figure," she thought.
They hung loosely to her small but tall 40-year-old frame. She was a natural red head, with her hair bundled up on top of her head (she pulled at her hairpins and let her hair flow down her back and over her shoulders). She shook her head in approval and grabbed for a Sewanee t-shirt that she was getting ready to send to a friend of hers in Nashville. In an impulsive move, she reached under her sweatshirt and pulled off her bra and tossed it on the floor with a defiant, "Humph!"
She pulled on some tube socks, slipped into some leather-hiking boots, and wrapped a new leather belt through her belt loops that pulled tightly at her tiny waist. Again, she thought about how lucky she was to have stayed so thin all this time. Many of her sisterly brethren were as big as barns and even younger. She wondered how they gained so much weight while eating the sparse convent food that continued to keep her skinny. Probably were sneaking off to the kitchen when no one else was looking. She smiled knowingly, "Probably compensating for the lack of something. I bet I know what that is!" she spoke loudly to herself.
Gathering up a hand-me-down backpack, she stuffed some reading material and personal bathroom items in it that included her favorite Hobie beach towel and a roach clip covered with ostrich feathers, souvenirs from her wilder pre-nun days. She spotted her Bible on her bed stand and threw it against the wall in disgust.
"I missed, so I missed! It won't do me much good now! If what I know is going to happen, all hell is getting ready to break loose. I have to find a way to survive. It won't help, now!"
She reached deep into her cedar chest and pulled out a loaded, double-shot, pearl-handled derringer. "I'm out of here, God! Thanks for nothing!"
Alex walked towards the chapel, having followed Aaron's directions. He looked for Abigail. Nothing so far. As he walked around the corner of All Saints following the walk to the other chapel, he ran into her. Abigail fell backwards into the bushes and thrashed in awkward, struggling movements.
"Watch where you're going, buddy!" she cussed him. He put out a hand to help her, but she misunderstood his helping hand. She pulled her gun and fired, just missing his head by a fraction, but enough to send him backwards onto the ground near her.
"Whoa, lady, slow down! I was just trying to help you up! Ease up on that trigger finger, will you?"
Finally, Abigail got a good look at Alex. "Governor! Governor Alex Tabor? It can't be! Is it really you?"
Alex quickly recovered and helped her to her feet, then noticed her blushed-red face as she straightened herself up. A crucifix fell from under her t-shirt having broken in her bush struggles.
Alex picked it up and handed it to her, "I'm sorry, ma'am. I didn't mean to scare you. Here's your cross. Just call me Alex. I don't think governor has much clout with everything that has happened recently. What's your name?"
Abigail took the cross from him and started to stick it in her front pocket, then changed her mind and threw it across the lawn at a nearby tree, "Lousy God did this to me! My name is Abigail."
"Abigail! Holy mackerel! You're the one I'm supposed to meet. You're the nun," he replied, then moved his hand dramatically across his forehead that mimicked relief.
"What do you mean meet me? How do you know me?" She started nervously backing away from him, not trusting even the governor right now.
"An angel called Aaron told me that I'd meet you. I'm to take you to safety until the holocaust passes. He said that Oak Ridge was going to melt down, and we needed to take shelter in the chapel on the other side of campus somewhere. Do you know where it is?"
"Who is this angel, Aaron? What's an angel got to do with me and you?" she asked, then moved farther away from him while getting ready to run.
"Everything. I'm supposed to standby to do some things for the angels since they can't stay around like they did before, and you're to teach me about the end times."
"What do you take me for, a fool? I'm not going with you anywhere! You're crazy! I rejected those fanatics and that includes their angels. God got me into this mess. You really expect me to help Him out, now?" She continued
to back away from him while looking around for the best escape route.
The ground under and around them swayed like movements on a skyscraper in a heavy wind. There were rumblings and rock-shearing sounds. Abigail lost her balance and fell back into the bushes again.
"What in the heck was that?" she shouted as she crawled to her feet and set them far apart, then braced herself for more.
A student came running from a frat house directly towards them screaming, "The East Coast has disappeared. The whole coastline fell into the ocean. The tectonic plates are shifting. The news showed the nuclear plants up and down the coast going to meltdown. Most are in the ocean. The shockwaves are coming this way. They said for everyone to take cover. Run! Now! Hide! This is the end of the world!"
Abigail looked at Alex weirdly as the boy passed them and ran into All Saints. It didn't help. The earth moved like some kind of giant mole was burrowing its way around them. The back of All Saints sunk 40 feet, and they both watched as the church bell tower toppled to the ground before it stopped.
"I think that was just an appetizer!" shouted Alex as he reached for her hand to escape together.
She took his hand gratefully this time while they both ran towards the cobblestone church as she yelled at him, "Come on, governor! I don't know if I believe your story, but you're the best bet in town! God may not like me. In fact, I don't like Him much right now. If He likes you, you're whom I need to hang out with!"
She whispered, "At least till it settles down a little."
"There's the chapel!" she exclaimed as she pointed to a small, gray-stone building at the other end of campus.
As they approached, the earth seemed to groan and snap around them. The chapel doors popped open under the last movement. They looked at each other in joint skeptism.
"Are you sure this is the place to hide?" asked Abigail, not believing any place was quite safe. "It looks a little rickety to me."
"Not in the chapel, but under it. Come on!" he said as he pulled her behind him. "Where's the basement?"
"I remember helping at a garage sale here about five years ago. We stored everything in the basement. The door is through the back and down to the right!"
She passed him this time leading the way. There was more movement, and they noticed the church floors creaking under the pews. They also noticed that the cellar stairs didn't seem to be affected by it.
"There's a big door going down another flight of stairs made of concrete and metal. It's two levels deep," replied Abigail. They finally reached the door and pushed on it together, but it didn't budge.
"What in the heck is this made of, titanium?" asked Alex.
"I told you it was concrete and metal. This was an old fall-out shelter 25-years ago. Look, there's a lever at the bottom and top blocking it from opening." She grabbed for the bottom while Alex grabbed the top. They pulled with all their strength, then there was more earth movement, but it helped this time, enough to shift the door open.
"Get down there, now!" shouted Alex. It was pitch black, but to the left hanging from a coat hook was a five-battery flashlight swinging on a tethered rope. "Perfect!" remarked Alex.
They moved down to the lower level, and the coolness of the inner earth was rank with the wet smell of rock, water, and moss, then surprisingly it started disappearing. The rock gave way to newly poured concrete under their feet and on the walls of the passage beside them. Finally, they found a light switch. Alex flipped it on and off several times as he discovered in disappointment only a flicker and nothing more.
"The electricity must have been bumped off-line. Alex shined his flashlight at the first door to their right; and as they entered, they saw a high-capacity generator sitting like it was waiting for them. It was expertly vented to the outside and surrounded with over 50 (20-gallon) drums of gasoline.
"Let's get it started," he remarked as he pulled the gasoline cap off and noticed it was marked to the top. He screwed it back on and pulled at its lawnmower handle. It sputtered then stopped. He pulled again. It failed again, but they were more interested in the sound of rock and earth moving around them. They silently thought that it wasn't quite as violent as it was before; it was, in fact, far worse. Just like Aaron told Alex, they were protected from it. The generator started in a burst of noise, and the lights flickered, then came instantly alive.
"Boy, someone did their homework. This is great! There's enough fuel for a long time and look how the vent disperses the fumes. At least, we won't die of carbon monoxide poisoning."
"Believe me, carbon monoxide is the least of our worries," she replied as she looked around at the storage room. "You're right, I can't believe Father Sargon did all this. He lived here for the last ten years before moving back to Nashville. I wonder what else he's done?"
"I know you don't like to hear about the angels; but if what I know is true, this is probably one of the few safe places around."
"I know what I said, but can't you just refer to the angels as intuitions or something? Just for me? I'm not quite ready to hear about God things quite yet."
"Okay. My intuition tells me that this is probably one of the few safe places around. How's that?" Alex laughed lightly and noticed that Abigail was smiling at him, tickled by his sense of humor in the midst of such catastrophe.
"Thanks, Gov. Now, let's go see what else the brother did," she replied and took his hand voluntarily this time and walked with him in a wide, well-lit corridor with numerous rooms on both sides. They felt they were looking at a great mystery. Abigail was finding her sarcasm waning and her excitement building. She felt she was on an adventure—a great, terrible, end-time adventure. She also knew, depending of what they found down here, they might be some of the few survivors.
Pendwight's Angel
Pendwight was sitting at his computer desk listening to the TV news when he felt the first tremors. He still couldn't speak while having lost his voice a week ago when angels stopped him from interfering with the children's worship service at their sanctuary. He hadn't said a word since.
The news about the missing persons was being mixed with the East Coast meltdowns. He stared in amazement that all this could happen in such a short time. He wearily rubbed his face and wondered if Abigail was part of the raptured. He thought not, knowing what a good job he had done teaching her about his educated truths. Still, he couldn't move; his emotional fatigue was overwhelming.
"You need to get out of here, now!" commanded a seven-foot dark angel draped in his feathered wings as he placed a firm hand on Pendwight's shoulder.
Pendwight fell forward screaming in surprise, but his surprise was also filled with relief. He could speak again. "Who in the heck are you?" He knew what he was.
"A friend," spoke Tare. "Oak Ridge is going to meltdown soon. Memphis will turn into an inner ocean, and the U.S. will split all the way to Canada, starting at the Mississippi. We want you to go to Wheeling, West Virginia."
"What in the world is in Wheeling?" asked Pendwight while getting his own cocky sarcasm back.
"No nuclear facilities, for one. It's safe there. The capitol of United States will be moving there shortly. We want you to help in rebuilding America. We'll introduce you to the right people. They need the help of a religious, educated person like you. Get in your car and follow our instructions. Grab some essentials. Give yourself only 15 minutes, and here's a detailed map of the route we want you to take. You'll be safe if you do what we tell you. I'll send some help when you get closer to Wheeling. Do you understand?"
“Yes, but why me?" asked Pendwight, not half believing who he was seeing. "Am I that important?" He wanted to believe he was and that he wasn't a lost cause after all. Someone actually liked him, even if it was the wrong side; he was important again.
"Oh yes, you're very important. We've had an eye on you for quite some time. You've earned this break, don't you think? Oh, by the way, we've been looking for Abigail but haven'
t found her. Thought she'd like to go with you. You haven't seen her around, have you?"
"No, I was just wondering where she was too. I don't think she was taken, was she?"
"I doubt it. If she shows, take her with you, okay?" he suggested and disappeared before his eyes.
Pendwight rushed around throwing books, clothes, and his laptop into his station wagon. He pulled the map out and shook his head distrustfully. They had him zig-zagging all across the states to the West Virginia line. He wondered why. He thought for a minute and figured that this route probably avoided the worst fallout and earth movements. He noticed there was a note to drive nonstop. He floored his gas pedal and screeched down the Sewanee streets for the Interstate. Abigail would just have to make it on her own. He didn't have time to fool with her, niece, or no niece.