A female construction worker building secondary walls on the same cottage yelled up to them, “Knock it off, guys! Have you forgotten the millions of Christ followers who haven’t had dreams and are living in homes frightened for their lives every minute of every day, including adolescents, teenagers and perhaps even pregnant women?”
Wiping sweat from her brow, the woman from Texas went on, “Jeez, we still don’t know the full effect the earthquakes have had on the agricultural industry, but it’s only gonna get worse. As many of our fellow believers struggle to find food to eat, we’re fed farm fresh meals each day, at least for now.
“How much worse when they’re forced to fend for themselves living in tunnels beneath cities knowing what’s still coming? I’m sure they’d give anything to trade places with us and have the kind of protection we have. I still remember how I felt before I had dreams. Do you?”
When neither responded, she squinted up at them and said, “My goodness, grow up! You’re not the only two dealing with the heat and sore backs. We all are! Keep things in perspective and find a way to get along, despite it all!”
The burly man with beefy paws who started it shrugged his shoulders and sighed, “You’re right. I’m sorry. I was out of line.” Then to Harmon, “Are we cool?”
Shamus nodded yes. The two men fist bumped. That put an end to the argument. Harmon, a man who was known to never back down from a fight in the past quoted Romans 7:19 from memory, ‘For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing.’”
“I heard that!” the now at peace agitator had said.
Shamus said, “Thank You, Lord, for bringing my family to this place. I’m so grateful! Please protect our brothers and sisters out there from any and all danger they may be facing.”
Everyone who heard him shouted, “Amen.”
From that time on, they sang praise and worship songs to the Lord, thus showing the Spirit at work within them, even despite themselves.
After dinner and evening prayer, before the second shift began, Tom Dunleavey addressed everyone in the darkened church pavilion, on behalf of Brian Mulrooney. “I know everyone’s tired, so this won’t take long. For those of you who may not know, we have another expectant resident among us. Jacquelyn learned earlier that she is pregnant.”
Smiles quickly faded when Tom lowered his head, “I also have bad news to share. Brian got word earlier today that his sister committed suicide. As you can imagine, he’s in a very bad way.”
Tom cleared his throat, “Sorry to inconvenience some of you, but due to the power outage, we’ll be closing half the cottages to save on fuel, batteries, and on generator use. For the next two nights, each cottage will house eight occupants instead of four. If power isn’t restored by then, half of the remaining cottages will be shut down and those still open will house sixteen occupants each.
“If it’s still out after that, which we have reason to believe it will be, only fifty cottages will remain open, housing roughly twenty occupants each. From there, it will keep dwindling down until there are twenty-five cottages sleeping forty occupants each.
“Tight quarters, I know. At the outset, residents were supposed to be assigned specific cottages based entirely on compatibility test results. But among the constant mayhem, everything keeps changing. Until we know who is best suited to live together, please do your best to remain patient.”
On the big screen above and behind Tom was a map of safe house number one showing all 263 cottages. Green check marks covered those that would remain open. Those with red “X” marks would be shut down. Arrows connected cottages now closed to those that would remain open, making it easy for those being reassigned to know where to proceed.
“If you’re presently in a cottage that will be closing, I’ll ask you to pack your personal belongings after we finish here and report to the new cottage to which you’ve been assigned. As much as we’d love to bunch all cottages together, for security purposes, we need to remain spread all throughout the property.
“You may need to use your phone flashlights to help you find your way in the darkness. For those of you not being reassigned, before going to sleep, please help prepare your cottages for newcomers. Fold-up cots will be left outside for you to bring inside.
“Whatever you do, don’t grow too attached to your assigned cottages. Chances are you may be the next to relocate. Should be interesting…”
When Tom was finished, Meera Singh spoke, “I want you all to know starting tomorrow, Tamika will be our new resident nurse in training…”
Tamika had her mouth stretched in a yawn; her eyes grew wide; she tilted her head and shot Meera a confused look, as if to say, “Come again?!”
Dr. Singh said, “I know this comes as a surprise, but how many times have you told me about your lifelong desire to become a nurse? Here’s your big chance! When the doctors and nurses leave in a few weeks, I’ll also serve as resident dentist until I can be replaced. I already can’t keep up with my many patients. I’ll need all the help I can get.”
“What about my daily chores?” Despite that she was bone-tired after a backbreaking 12-hour shift in the blazing heat, and heartbroken for Brian over his sister’s suicide, she was raring to go.
“You are hereby relieved of all other duties. Tomorrow you’ll report directly to me. I’ll assign you to one of the nurses so you can begin your on-the-job training. When you’re not busy performing your duties, you can spend the rest of your free time studying medical books and watching videos taken in operating rooms, which I’ll provide for you.”
An eruption of adrenaline flowed inside Tamika. Her lifelong dream was coming true after all. She stood more erectly, as if just being called into military service, “I’m ready, doctor.”
“That’s great. Once the medical staff leaves, as the only nurse on the property, you’ll be on call twenty-four, seven, until others can join us. Do you accept the terms?”
Tamika nodded yes. It was like music to her ears.
“Very good then. Welcome aboard, my sister. In fact, since safe house number one will soon be full of pregnant women, I’ve been advised from the top of the organization to ask anyone having an interest in the medical field to see me tomorrow. But I must warn that if you volunteer your services, not only will you always be on call, you may be asked to travel to other safehouses to assist, if ever needed.”
“I’m willing,” said Mary Johnston, raising her hand.
Meera Singh nodded her appreciation. “Anyone else interested come see me after breakfast tomorrow, and we’ll get started. Finally, before we sleep tonight, everyone capable will be required to donate a pint of blood. Your participation will be greatly appreciated.”
Another chart was shown on the big screen. It looked very bright in an otherwise near-darkened pavilion.
“Now, if you’ll divert your attention to the chart behind me, you’ll see a list of who can and cannot donate blood. This is intended mostly for the new residents. Everyone else has already been through this drill. We’re going to need all the help we can get.”
Meera paused a moment then went on, “Instead of reading them to you, to save time, let me just say that if you have the flu, please hold off until the symptoms are gone. Even if you feel better, but you’re still taking antibiotics, you must wait. The presence of the illness or infection requiring the antibiotic may be transmitted through the blood.
“Pregnant women may not give blood, as there may be medical risks to the mother and baby during this time. For blood cancers, such as leukemia or lymphoma, a person may not donate blood. Being positive for the AIDS or hepatitis viruses also rules you out as a blood donor.”
Dr. Singh looked out at everyone. “Does anyone have questions?”
“Can diabetics donate blood?”
“Yes, so long as your insulin syringe is used only by you. Even those of you with high or low cholesterol can donate. But if you have a low level of iron (hematocrit) in your blood
, it may temporarily prevent you from donating. This is for your safety. Any more questions?”
When no one spoke up, Meera glanced at Tamika in the darkness, “If you’re not too tired, your first assignment as resident nurse in training can be to help us draw blood from everyone on the first shift.”
Tamika beamed, “I’m not tired…” If Isaac could see me now…
Meera shot Tamika a grateful smile, “Very good then.”
“Now, if you’ll excuse us, Tom and I have a staff meeting to attend…”
At that, Tom Dunleavey and Meera Singh went back to the main house to check on the Mulrooneys before retreating to the basement for a staff meeting with Clayton Holmes and Travis Hartings…
8
MEERA SINGH CALLED TRAVIS Hartings on Brian Mulrooney’s Sat-phone. After two rings, Travis answered from the underground location in northern Virginia where Jefferson Danforth was hiding. “Hey Brian…”
“It’s Meera. Brian’s not here. Tom Dunleavey and Tony Pearsall are with me.”
“Where’s Brian?”
Tom Dunleavey said, “Upstairs with Jacquelyn and Sarah…”
“Is everything okay there?”
Meera sighed, “Brian’s sister committed suicide.”
“What?!” Travis shouted, not wanting to believe it.
“He got word shortly after you left this morning. He asked us to call you He’s a mess. Sarah too. She collapsed after hearing the news.”
“Oh, man! Please extend our condolences to him and Jacquelyn. Sarah too. Tell them we’re praying for them.”
“That’s not all—Jacquelyn’s pregnant.”
Clayton Holes said, “So that makes seventy-six there?”
Meera said, “Yes, Clayton. Did you lose power at the cabin?”
“Probably. We never made it there. That’s all I can say for now. But don’t worry, we’re safe. Safe as can be, anyway.”
Hartings said, “Tony, how’d the first shift go without power?”
“Thankfully, we managed to stay on schedule. The new wall’s roughly five percent completed. And the first hole’s roughly a third of the way dug. The seven burned cottages have been bulldozed. Once the debris’ cleared away, we’ll rebuild. All things considered, not bad.”
“Not bad at all…” Hartings said. “Quite impressive, Tony…”
“Generator-powered flood lights were just set up underground for workers on the second shift. Conveyor belts are being set up underground so the unearthed soil can be lifted to the surface. If all goes well, we hope to have the first hole dug three days from now.
Pearsall cleared his throat, “Because it’s so far underground, chemicals will be added to the cement to make it harden more quickly. Once it cures, we’ll spend one shift leveling the ground floor.
“After that, even if it isn’t completely level, cement will be poured, and vertical beams will be set in place. The robotic bricklaying machine will be brought underground each night to build brick walls. Doing it at night will greatly minimize the noise.”
“We agree. Perfection isn’t the goal. It all comes down to speed and efficiency. Thanks for the update. Brother Tom?”
Tom Dunleavey said, “Half the cottages are being closed and members are being reassigned even as we speak.”
“Very good.”
“Praise God, there were no security breaches or unwanted visitors. Truth be told, when power was lost, in the back of my mind, I thought perhaps locals were on to us. Glad my thinking was wrong.” Tom sighed, “But there is something I’d like to briefly discuss, if I may…”
Clayton Holmes said, “Go on, Tom.”
“I’m concerned about the constant bickering among some of our members. Much of it is just that: bickering. But a handful of men had to be separated earlier to prevent from coming to blows.”
“We share your concern,” Holmes said. “There have been altercations at many of our big construction locations.”
Tom frowned, “I know the heat’s partly to blame for it. At least at this location. But what concerns me is that it’s happening aboveground. How much worse will it get when we’re forced underground for extended periods of time, or even for good?”
“Let’s face it, some humans are wired to live underground indefinitely, completely cut off from the rest of the world. Others can survive for many weeks in isolation before feeling claustrophobic.
“For the rest of us, the trauma of knowing we can never return aboveground will surely cause meltdowns for some. It won’t take much to trigger some of our more high-strung individuals. A simple bout of boredom or even eating the same foods over and over again could potentially cause us trouble.”
Travis interjected, “We’re one step ahead of you, Tom.”
“So, what are you suggesting?”
“Detention rooms will be constructed at all locations, for those who are out of control and need to cool off before being returned to the general population. There will be separate holding rooms for men and women.”
“You mean like jails?”
“Yes. At your location, it will be in the third subterranean dwelling place. But here’s the difference: each room will be fitted with comfortable chairs and beds where they can pray and read the Bible. The walls will be soft colored with LED screens projecting pleasant sceneries and Bible quotations to hopefully prevent those sent there from going stir crazy.”
“What if that doesn’t help? Will we need judges to hear disputes? Is this how Christians should treat one another?”
Holmes jumped in, “For the survival of everyone else, yes! Try to big picture it, Tom. All it would take is one person having a meltdown and it’ll be enough to potentially cause unwanted attention from outsiders.”
“I see your point, Clayton.”
“Very Good…”
When they were finished, Travis said, “Meera?”
“There were a few on the job injuries. Thankfully, most were minor.”
Hartings said, “Praise God for that!”
“Indeed. After we lost electricity, it took a while to get organized. But we still managed to examine more than a hundred residents.”
Travis Hartings whistled through his teeth. “Impressive…”
“Even more impressive was that our three dentists were able to treat thirty-seven patients. But after the anesthetic lidocaine wore off, some requested stronger medication. They were given extra strength Tylenol and told to cope with the pain. Some weren’t too happy about that…”
Meera pursed her lips together then sighed, “I’ve read their profiles. I know some battled serious addictions prior to the Rapture. I pray they don’t relapse and become addicted to opioids again. High stress and tension are key triggers for many who relapse.
“We had plenty of both today. Even some who never battled drug addiction are complaining that extra strength Tylenol isn’t strong enough for their pain and muscle aches. I can’t tell you how many people have gone to hospitals with broken arms and have left as drug addicts.
“As the only person on the property with keys to the medicine cabinet, I pray someone doesn’t strongarm me at some point and force me to open it against my wishes.”
Travis said, “This is why we must trust the dreams they had, Doctor. We can never lose sight that those who are with us are here because God sent them to us. We can’t expect perfection from them. We all fall short. This inner battle will continue until the day we die. For those getting out of line, that’s what the detention rooms will be for until they calm down.”
Clayton sensed hesitation in Meera’s voice. “What is it, Doctor?”
“As you already know from past discussions, gentlemen, it won’t be long before the Global Community medical staff becomes aware that many of their pregnant patients suddenly stopped showing up for their doctors’ appointments. What happens when word gets back to Romanero that some of his precious expectant mothers have gone missing?”
Clayton scratched his head, “No doubt he’ll move H
eaven and Earth to find them. If found, he’ll want to know why they refused the top-notch care he was providing. He’ll also demand to know whose care they were in, if not the care of GC medical doctors. Perhaps he already knows…”
Dr. Singh sighed, “With so many of them living in our safehouses, worldwide, will it lead the enemy to us at some point? They already have complete DNA profiles on record of every patient; they’ve had it since birth. All it would take is one positive DNA hit to be traced back to one of our locations, and authorities will storm in and arrest everyone living there. Or worse. This frightens me to no end.”
Clayton interjected, “Once again, Doctor, we share your concern.”
“Lastly, not to keep bugging you, gentlemen, but my biggest concern remains unchanged: if we can’t gain access to more medicines and medical supplies promised to us by our top supplier before his death, how can I, or any doctor or nurse, properly treat our patients?”
Like all other ETSM members, Meera knew not to mention Jefferson Danforth’s name under any circumstance or location by city.
Meera Singh frowned, “I have ample supplies for now. But with more than seventy diabetics and hundreds with hypertension and high blood pressure, not to mention a handful of cancer patients, it won’t be long before we run out of insulin, blood pressure medication and chemo.
“And that’s just for starters. Many have heart and lung conditions. What happens when the oxygen and nitrogen tanks run out, or the defibrillator machines and ventilation breathing machines stop working? Then, there are our three wheelchair-bound residents. Whenever I look at them, I’m reminded of just how dire our situation really is...
“And that’s not the only concern I have. In this constant flurry of activity, what if after my colleagues leave, someone accidentally cuts off a finger, toe, or a limb. I’m a doctor, not a surgeon. And what if someone eventually needs a blood transfusion? We don’t have the proper equipment to administer it.” Meera sighed frustration, “I could go on…”
Travis glanced at Clayton. Perhaps it was due to the oppressive heat and the loss of power, but neither had ever heard Meera talk so frantically.
The Sealing Page 6