The president was not sitting in the Oval Office, and the National Guard would not soon arrive to start relief efforts. In short the world had changed drastically, and it was time to accept it and get on with life. Ira didn't need to read the articles to know just how much things had changed. He had watched most of the destruction himself, first hand, and he knew how great it was.
As Jimmy Johnson spoke he did not speak so much as an authority on the situation, or even as an authority on God. Although he had made up his mind on the latter, it was not something he felt compelled to tell others about. What he spoke of instead was reality, or more correctly, the new reality of the way things were. He spoke of the fear that everyone had held inside, namely that it really was over, but that did not necessarily mean the world was over. Their futures depended on themselves. Only themselves, and it was time to stop fooling themselves that everything would be fine once someone else decided what they should be doing, or the long-gone National Guard finally got there.
Some cried openly as they listened to him. Others rejected what he said, feeling that he had possibly just given up. Most of the people however saw the truth in what he said. He didn't tell anyone what they should or shouldn't do, or even try to swing them in one direction or the other. He simply stated the facts. The crowd grew absolutely silent as they listened.
As he spoke the other police officers who had also been holding out hope, left their posts and mingled in the crowd. They had been in the unenviable position of being in charge. They were perceived only as law and order, the holders of the keys to rationality, and without realizing it they had been the primary force still holding out for the hope that help would come. If there were still cops, then there could still be hope of rescue, of help on the way. When they left their cars and horses behind, the hope died.
It was an admission that they would have to turn to themselves for hope, or go back to the oldest hope, which was God. It was a hard thing for Jimmy to do. He cried himself as he spoke. But it was a necessary thing. It was as necessary as burying loved ones who died, so that the living could get on with living. It was opening the secret room buried deep within your soul, where the driving force of life was locked away. For some it was love that drove them, for others it was hate, but for all there was something locked away in that room.
When Jimmy Johnson finished speaking, several others began to speak. It was not an act performed just for the sake of speech, but a pouring out of whatever the small room within them held. It was Jimmy's turn to listen as people spoke. This one about their trip to get to Rochester, or another about how they knew it was over, but hadn't wanted to face it. A young mother who had lost her children, an older man who had been on the verge of bankruptcy, and had thought things could get no better, or no worse, and now felt it was probably better.
Ira listened from the top of the stone steps as first one, and then another told of how they felt, and what they had been through. He listened as the conversation turned from what had been lost to what was still left. He was lost in an overpowering feeling coming from the crowd of people. He felt love and when he heard an older man’s voice speak beside him he was not surprised to turn and see his Lord standing there.
"Their outpouring was great," the older man said.
Ira simply nodded his head as he turned back to the crowd.
"They are my people, Ira, even the ones among them who do not believe, or have yet to believe... They are all of them my children, and I love them all, Ira."
Ira was surprised to feel tears running down his own cheeks as he watched the crowd. "Does this mean they decided?" Ira asked.
"No, Ira, it does not. It simply means they have decided to decide. I cannot say where they will go from here, or even whom they will follow. It is one thing to decide, and yet an entirely different one to follow," he paused briefly as if thinking.
"Things that will soon come to pass, will be great to overcome, Ira," he paused again, looking out over the crowd.
"Will they follow?"
He continued "...It is not certain."
"But you know, Lord, don't you?" Ira asked. "You kin tell what will happen can't you?" Ira had turned away from the crowd and now faced the older man beside him.
"It is never certain, Ira. Certainty would take choice away, and choice must be maintained. It is up to them. They can walk entirely away from the fight if they choose, or they can stay and fight the fight. Either way the choice must remain."
Ira reached up and brushed the tears from his cheeks, as he listened. When the older man had finished he nodded his head in agreement.
"I know that," Ira said, "you told me, Lord. It's just a hard thing to understand, or even think about. I don't know what I kin do, Lord, but I'll do whatever you need me to."
"I know that, Ira," the older man said. "Do you know what I need you to do, Ira?"
"I think I do, Lord. Just to do whatever I kin to convince them."
"That is true, Ira, but I mean right now."
"Not completely, Lord," Ira answered.
"Just to believe, Ira. It is going to be hard to do. It has always been hard to do for all of my people. This is not a choice that is, has, or ever will be an easy choice to follow once it has been made."
"I know that, Lord, and I do believe."
"I know you do, Ira, but you see me. You see me standing in front of you, and so you believe that I truly am. That will not be any longer. You will have to find me in your heart where I have always been. You will have to go back to the acceptance that you felt, before you had ever met me. I will listen from your heart, and that is where I will live. If you need me you will have to trust that I live in you. Do you understand?"
"I believed before I saw, Lord. I always did, and I always will. Do you mean you won't come and talk to me?"
"Ira, how can someone make a choice that is based on faith, without faith?"
"I understand that, Lord, but it don't explain the why of it. If you want people to believe, you should just appear to them and they will. Wouldn't they?"
"It is not the same thing, Ira. You believed before you saw me. You believe now that Cora waits for you, and that physical life will continue to go onward. Why do you believe that Cora is waiting for you, Ira?"
"Well... Because you told me, lord, and because I seen her myself. You took me to her," Ira replied.
"Yes I did, but how do you still believe, when you cannot see her? What is it that makes you continue in your belief that she is still waiting for you?"
"You, Lord," Ira said, "you told me so."
"But if I were not here, would you still believe, Ira? You do not need to see me to believe. You only need to believe that I am there. If you believe, it makes it real for you. That is faith, Ira. The belief in something you cannot see, nor touch. That is why faith must also be, in order for choice to be. I was not here yesterday, but you believed. I walked with you but you did not see me. Yet you did believe in me. Do you understand, Ira?"
"I do, lord," Ira said, he paused briefly. "But, I will see you again won't I?"
"Of course, Ira. You will see me when you leave here. You will see me when you no longer require your physical body. It is not a long time, Ira. That is not to say that the time you will still require your physical body is short. It may or may not be. I cannot say. Ira, it is faith. Faith is what you have had, and faith is what you must continue to have."
"I do understand, Lord," Ira said. His eyes seemed sad as he spoke, betraying the heaviness his heart felt. He turned back out to the large crowd of people who were still speaking below, after he answered. They were still talking and sharing with one another, and didn't seem to be the same dispirited crowd of people he had walked through just a few hours earlier when he had come into the city.
"Lord, I will see Cora again won't I?" Ira asked as he stared out into the crowd. He waited for the older man beside him to respond, and after a few seconds when he had not, he turned to find out why.
The stone steps were deserted as Ira looked
across them. The older man was gone.
Ira drew a deep breath, and let it back out in a sigh. He stepped slowly up the last stone riser, and walked into the old court house. His heart felt heavier than it ever had, and the longing for Cora seemed much stronger. You're right lord, he thought to himself, as he walked into the old stone building. It's a hard go, just believin', but you're right.
Below him in the vast crowd two separate groups had formed, and their lines could be seen with ease. It was distinct now, and the two groups were drawing further apart from one another as the seconds ticked by. They spoke only among themselves, only to those in their own group.
The larger group was still gathered around the now vacant police cruiser, and the smaller group began to drift farther away to the other side of the Street where Main Street fronted the War Memorial. They almost seemed in ignorance of one another as they coalesced, and drifted further apart. Presently the smaller group struck off down East main, towards the north side of the city. A few men in the lead of the smaller group, urging them farther away, almost herding them.
The larger group felt them go. It was almost as if they tugged at their souls as they went. But they had made a choice, and their leaving seemed to actually uplift the spirits of those who stayed behind.
Ira sipped at a hot cup of coffee he had gotten from a tired looking woman inside the old court house, as he watched the smaller crowd move away. He sat on the top step and watched until they disappeared down East Main Street.
- 5 -
In the crowd below, Frank stood holding Annie close to him. When some of the others had left and joined the smaller group he had been afraid that she would also go. She hadn't. Of the small group that had made the trip from Watertown, most had stayed. Dave had left, as well as Mike and Gina. One minute they had been there, and the next they were walking away towards the other group that was forming.
Frank had been sure that Lisa would leave with Dave. They had seemed to be growing close. But in the end he had simply turned and left her standing with the others, walking the short distance to the smaller group. She had seemed hesitant, about to follow, but instead had turned her back on the smaller crowd and remained. Frank felt saddened by their leaving. He knew, and suspected they knew, that they were making some sort of a choice. He was not positive what kind of a choice he had made, other than that for him; it was the choice of good. It was equally clear cut to him that the other choice was evil, or bad. He did not go beyond that in his thinking. He was only glad that Annie had made the same choice.
Ira stood from the stone steps, and walked slowly down the risers to the crowd below. He walked to the police car, and stood close to Jimmy. He turned and looked at Ira, and Ira could see the tracks his tears had left as they found their way from his eyes and across his face. He did not seem to be sad though. He had a soft smile on his face as he spoke to Ira.
"Did you see?" he asked, as he looked back over the crowd of people. "I didn't have the slightest idea of what I was going to say when I got out of that stupid car. I just talked, and its’ kind of funny, but I don't even remember everything I said," he looked at Ira as though he might not believe him.
"I kin understand that real well," Ira said softly, "been there myself a few times. I ain't sure it matters what you said, so much as you said what you felt had to be said."
Jimmy nodded his head in agreement. "Did you find the man you were looking for?" he asked.
"You might say he found me," Ira said. "But if you mean have I spoke to him yet, I ain't. I'm hoping he's still in this crowd somewhere."
Even though Ira's statement hadn't entirely made sense to him, the young man nodded his head.
"Buy you another cup of coffee?" Ira asked.
"Sure. Sure," Jimmy replied. He turned and walked back towards the old court house building with Ira. They mounted the worn stone steps, and went inside.
Apart from the older woman behind the long table serving coffee and sandwiches, the inside of the building was empty. Everyone had left and gone outside into the night air. Some to leave, and some to decide to stay.
"Back for seconds?" she asked with a smile as Ira and Jimmy approached the long table.
"Maybe so," Ira said, smiling back, "maybe even thirds."
"They done out there?" she asked, motioning towards the dark outside the doors.
"As done as they can be," Ira said. "I ain't so sure, that a thing is ever really done, but I suppose they're mostly done."
She nodded her head as he spoke, and when he finished she handed him a fresh cup of coffee. As she handed another steaming Styrofoam cup to Jimmy, she spoke. "Made up my own mind yesterday," she said. "I just figured it was time, so I did. What's next?" she asked.
"Well... I ain't sure myself," Ira said. "I suppose it's time to stand and fight," he leveled his eyes at her as he spoke.
"It's what I figured," she said. The smile did not leave her face. "I'll stand with you, and you can take that to the bank."
"I believe you will," Ira said.
"Me too," Jimmy said. "I'm with you."
"I believe you too," Ira said, "but I want to make it clear, it ain't me you'll be making a stand with."
"I know that," Jimmy replied calmly. "I knew when you walked up to the car, like you were just out for a Sunday stroll. I think I made up my mind before you left, and to be honest I'm glad I did," his eyes were calm as he spoke, matching his voice.
Ira turned back to the woman behind the table. He knew her name from his last trip in to get coffee. "Bess?"
"Me too," she replied. "I know the difference between following God and following a man. I'm glad he brought you though, Ira, I was beginning to think we'd be here forever before somebody showed up. Whether you admit it, or want to take the credit for it, you got us moving. It's important. I suppose you were just doing what you felt was right, but you didn't have to. I guess that's why I'm glad. You didn't have to, but you did." Bess poured herself a cup of coffee as she finished.
"Bring it with you, Bess," Ira said, "bring it on outside. People kin get their own coffee if they want it."
Ira turned and they walked as a group down the stairs, back out into the crowd.
FOUR
- 1 -
The trek out of Seattle was much harder than Joe and Arlene had thought it would be.
It was close to noon before they reached the outskirts of the city, and decided to try to find some kind of four wheel drive vehicle, at one of the many dealerships that dotted I 405. They had hoped to leave via I-90 and cross Mercer Island, but after a two hour walk, most of which consisted of crawl-walking over the tops of stalled vehicles, they had been forced to turn back when they reached the edge of Lake Washington. I-90 was gone, and nothing but blue-green water stretched away to the island.
They had debated back tracking to 520, and crossing the lake there instead. Joe had pretty much let Arlene decide. She was, after all familiar with Seattle, and he was not. In the end they had decided to head south down 5.
It had been slow going until they reached the Martin Luther King Highway. The stalled traffic had been much lighter there, and they had been able to drive part of the way by cutting into the parking lots of fast food restaurants, that dotted almost the entire length of the highway. Getting a car had not been a problem; there were several used car lots along the highway. They had used the parking lots to swing around the worst of the traffic, and that had worked well until they reentered 5. It was hopelessly packed with stalled traffic. They had left the car, which had sounded as if it was close to dying anyway, and struck out on foot again. Arlene led the way as they cut cross lots through Renton Municipal Airport, and eventually they came to 405.
Crossing the dead airfield had been unnerving for both of them. Many of the runways had cracked, and either lifted skyward, or tilted down into the ground. Several blackened skeletons of large aircraft dotted the airfield. Most of them were so badly burned that they had been unable to tell what they had been before. Joe thou
ght a couple of them may have been military aircraft, but as badly twisted as they were it was impossible to be sure.
One large 707 sat tilted skyward on a chunk of runway that had separated from the surrounding pavement. The plane looked untouched, and almost as though it was some sort of rocket ship waiting to be launched skyward. Luggage, some burned, some untouched, was scattered across the airfield in every direction, and many of the suitcases were burst, with papers and clothing scattered everywhere along with other personal effects. There were bodies too.
On their way through the city they had seen very few bodies. It had been unsettling to Arlene. Almost as if everyone had just decided to leave at the same time. The bodies they had seen had not been killed by the Earthquake. They bore gunshot wounds, and appeared to have been dead for only a short period of time. Possibly only the last two or three days, they decided.
The bodies at the airport were concentrated around the terminal building. The huge glass windows were peppered with holes, and in some cases completely blown inward, as if a battle had taken place for the terminal. Most of the bodies inside were concentrated behind the long rows of seats in the main lobby, as if they had been trying to use the seats for cover. It had apparently done no good. They paused only briefly, wondering what had occurred before they moved on. The overwhelming stench in the shattered terminal building drove them out. The wrecked planes, where they had expected to see bodies scattered all around, were empty.
Occasionally they heard gunfire around them, and twice explosions from the downtown district behind them had startled them. They had hurried along fearing the sounds, but fearing more the possibility that the owners of the guns might find them.
Joe explained, with only partial success, that a battle had begun, but Arlene had found it hard to accept. They walked in silence across the remainder of the shattered airfield, and they were both glad when they left it behind them.
They walked slowly towards a truck dealership on 405. Here, like the Martin Luther King Highway, black topped parking areas fronted all manner of fast food restaurants, which bordered both sides of the strip. It wouldn't necessarily assure a way around the stalled traffic, Joe realized, but it appeared as though it would give them a much better chance of getting by.
The Nation Chronicles: Book Two (The Nation Chronicles Trilogy 2) Page 7