Eternity

by Heather Terrell

  Since I didn’t have an answer, I chalked it up to the strain of waiting for the results of Ruth’s research. Or, I thought, maybe it stemmed from the fact that anything real Michael and I needed to say had to be committed to paper. It was taking a toll, yet I couldn’t afford to entertain personal problems.

  I needed to shake off my doubts. I needed to stay focused. I reminded myself that I was strong. I was a Nephilim. I was the Elect One.

  So, on Thursday evening, I decided to throw myself into a paper on Edith Wharton for the odious Miss Taunton instead of brooding. Since pretending was the name of the game these days, I had decided to knock Miss Taunton’s socks off with my brilliance. More important, her challenging assignment took my mind off everything. Even the crumpled-up note from Michael on my nightstand, the one he’d ended abruptly—with a “see you later” instead of “love”—because he had to run to practice.

  The phone rang. I heard it, but I was too deeply engrossed in The Age of Innocence to have it truly register.

  “Dearest, it’s Ruth,” my mom yelled up the stairs.

  Why hadn’t Ruth called me on my cell? She knew I kept it on my desk when I was doing homework. As I picked up the phone, I took a quick look at my cell, and realized that it was my fault; I’d inadvertently turned the ringer off. Even still, between my big-picture problems, my minor frustrations over English, and my lack of sleep, I was feeling uncharacteristically irritable.

  I picked up the phone, guessing at why she’d be calling. “Hey, Ruth. If you’re calling for some tips about writing this stupid English paper, don’t bother. I have no insights to offer. I’m struggling myself.” Even though I was committed to the assignment, I couldn’t help my irritation at having to deliver on my English homework. I mean, would mastery of the finer details of Edith Wharton’s life help in the apocalypse?

  “I wouldn’t worry about the paper too much, Ellie.”

  “Why? You don’t think that Miss Taunton is going to give us some slack, do you? I wouldn’t bet on it.”

  “No, Ellie, that’s not why.”

  “Then why?”

  “I think it’d be better if we talked it over in person. Can you meet me at the coffee shop tonight?”

  “No, Ruth. It’s almost nine. I don’t think my parents would be too thrilled about me going to the Daily Grind right now. Plus, I have to finish this paper by tomorrow morning. And so do you.”

  Her patience finally ran out, turning her sweet tone sour. “Ellie, I think you have more important things to worry about than Miss Taunton’s paper. In fact, that paper is the least of your problems.”

  I felt sick to my stomach. I suddenly had a feeling where this conversation was going. “What do you mean?”

  “All this pretending that you and Michael have been doing isn’t working. The end days have already begun.”

  Chapter Eight

  I convinced my parents to let me go to the Daily Grind. I told them that Ruth was upset about a fight with Jamie and needed consoling. They were reluctant. Still, they agreed on the condition that I only stay an hour.

  I don’t know what excuse Michael offered his parents, but he made it there too, after I called him. Even though he greeted me with his usual kiss, he seemed distracted. It was almost like we’d interrupted him from something really important. What could be more critical than preventing the end of time?

  The Daily Grind was surprisingly busy, given the hour. The high school crowd apparently moved out around seven p.m ., only to be replaced by the college students later on. Even though no one said it aloud, I knew we were all thankful for the bustle around us. It softened the tension. It made us all feel less alone.

  We managed to secure a table from a group of departing students. After we took our seats, I reached for Michael’s hand while we waited for Ruth to finish rummaging through her bag. He grasped mine back. It made me feel reconnected to him, particularly after the disloyal thoughts I’d harbored the day before.

  Ruth cleared her throat and slid a folder to us across the table. She was visibly nervous. At last, she whispered, “I think the earthquakes going on around the world are the first sign of the end days.”

  “The earthquakes?” Michael asked.

  Ruth looked over at Michael in surprise. “You know, the magnitude seven jolt that the Caribbean got several days ago that’s causing all sorts of devastation? And the seven and eight magnitude earthquakes that have happened in China, Chile, Japan, Indonesia, and California over the past week? Maybe you haven’t heard about those since they’re getting much less play in the media.”

  She could be very literal. At the worst times.

  “I’ve seen the news, Ruth,” Michael responded a bit defensively. “I meant, how could the earthquakes be signs? Signs of what?”

  “I guess I should back up a couple steps. You guys have heard of the Book of Enoch?”

  We both nodded. I had researched it myself at the Andover-Harvard Theological Library in Boston. Ezekiel had quoted from it liberally and ominously. My stomach flipped at the mention of it.

  “Okay, then you know that some biblical experts believe that the Book of Enoch describes the emergence of the Nephilim and the Elect One. Some experts theorize that this Elect One will surface as the apocalypse begins. The Elect One is the only being who can stop the end days and save the earth—and all the humans on it—from certain destruction. Or enslavement by the darkness, depending on which expert you’re reading.”

  Ruth continued. “Well, the Bible book that truly gets into the end days is Revelation, one of the most complicated and nonlinear books of the Bible. In Revelation, God hands a scroll to a figure called the Lamb. The Lamb has been interpreted to be a messianic figure, kind of like the Elect One. This scroll has seven wax seals, each of which represents the seven events or signs that will happen before the annihilation of the earth. Revelation also mentioned seven trumpets—seven other events—that could happen after the seven seals. Since most experts don’t focus on the seven trumpets, I didn’t either. I stuck to the seven seals. Simplified and in this order, the seven seals are the following: earthquakes; famine; widespread disease; economic depression; persecution of Christians; warfare; and the emergence of a leader who will seem to unite people in the face of all this devastation but who actually has other, more nefarious plans. This leader has been described as a sort of anti-Messiah. Once this leader comes on the scene with the seventh seal, well, Revelation lists all kinds of terrible events he or she will inflict on the earth to bring about the end. In order to stop the earth’s destruction, either the Lamb—or the Elect One—must stop these seven seals.”

  Ruth took a deep breath before speaking again. “I’ve been studying the news and looking for patterns. I wanted to see if all this pretending to be normal that you two are doing is stopping the clock of these end-days events. I’m pretty sure your pretending has failed.”

  I felt sick to my stomach. “What do you mean?”

  “I think the earthquakes are the first sign.”

  Michael pulled his hand away from mine and said, “There have been hundreds of earthquakes in the past. And they didn’t signal the end of time.”

  Ruth motioned for us to open the folder. Inside, I found newspaper articles and charts and graphs and summaries of current and past world events. When Ruth took on a task, she really took it on.

  “At no other point in history have there been earthquakes quite like this, not as many of this magnitude in such a short time, anyway. It seems that the earth is in an especially volatile phase.” She paused. “And it seems that the earth entered this phase precisely when you and Ellie learned who you were.”

  Michael was momentarily silenced.

  “Could it be a coincidence?” I asked, pleading for the impossible.

  “I don’t think so, Ellie.” Ruth reached out and touched my empty hand. “I’m so sorry. I think the clock started the moment you learned the truth. Never mind that your parents tried to make you forget and never mind
all your pretending.”

  Michael interjected, “This can’t be right. I understood what Ezekiel said. I knew that it might be coming. That said, this couldn’t possibly be the beginning of the end days. I mean, look around at all these kids getting their coffee and going about their daily business. Would the apocalypse look like this?”

  I heard the fear in his voice. We hadn’t liked the waiting. Right now, it seemed preferable to this next, terrifying stage of knowledge. We should’ve been more careful what we wished for.

  Since I clearly didn’t have the heart to reproach him, Ruth took on the job of admonishing him instead. “Michael, you asked me to research the Nephilim and the end days, and I did. I can’t help it if you don’t like what I found. Or if you don’t believe it.”

  Michael’s face softened, and I saw remorse in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Ruth. You’re right. The news is hard to take, that’s all. Don’t kill the messenger, right?”

  Ruth managed a forgiving chuckle.

  Michael reached for my hand again. The warmth of his hand in mine offered some comfort. It reminded me that I was not alone in all this madness.

  “What does your research say that Ellie and I should do next?” He asked the logical next question. One I should have asked myself, but all this talk of the Elect One was clouding my thinking.

  “Boiled way down, Revelation says that the Elect One has to stop the signs to stop the apocalypse. Unfortunately, it definitely doesn’t offer any step-by-step instructions as to how the Elect One should go about that. It’s no how-to guidebook, that’s for sure. Revelation is far too dense and cryptic for that; it’s written with all this crazy symbolic imagery. I thought our best bet would be to try and predict the next sign. And then evaluate what you guys could do to prevent it from happening.”

  “I’m guessing that you’ve already started that little project?” I asked with a smile. If I knew Ruth, she’d probably already created bar graphs and statistical models forecasting the next sign.

  Ruth smiled. “Of course.” Her smiled faded, as she added, “I don’t have anything definitive at the moment.”

  “So we wait some more,” Michael said with a heavy sigh.

  Ruth nodded apologetically. “We wait. Not too long, though. I don’t think we have too long.”

  I asked, “Should we tell our parents? They might be able to give us some answers. You know, they were angels at one point. And it sounds like our playacting hasn’t stopped the end days anyway.”

  “Even though our pretending to forget might not be preventing the end days, it still might be offering them some protection, Ellie,” Michael answered quietly. “I hope so, anyway.”

  I thought back to Ezekiel’s warning that we could bring harm upon our parents if we told them what we knew. Maybe Ezekiel’s words carried an empty threat, but we couldn’t take the chance. My parents were mortal now, after all, and I didn’t think they had any angelic means left to protect themselves against the likes of Ezekiel or his fallen kin.

  “We keep them in the dark, for now,” I agreed.

  “For now.”

  My cell phone beeped. I looked down and saw a “gentle reminder” text from my parents. I picked up my bag and said, “Well, I better get home. My hour is up.”

  Michael stood up as well. “I better go too. I have a game tomorrow night.”

  How could he think of a football game at a time like this? I almost said something but stopped myself. Maybe Michael was simply playing the part of dedicated football player. Much like I had adopted the role of keen English student. I shouldn’t judge him. We had committed ourselves to the playacting. For now.

  Chapter Nine

  In the spirit of our playacting, I made plans with Ruth to watch Michael’s football game. As his girlfriend, I had always loyally attended his games, even though I wasn’t much of a sports fan. Michael and I figured we should stick to our usual pattern.

  Like many of our classmates, Ruth and I hung around the school library, doing homework and chatting, before the game began. No one wanted to leave campus and chance losing their spot in the school parking lot. The Tillinghast football team was so excellent that it had developed a following way beyond the high school students. Plus, it was better for me to stay away from home. I was afraid that, if I spent too much time with my parents, I’d spill everything or get angry with them over the whole birth parents thing. The school library was definitely the safer option.

  Ruth and I left the library early to secure a good seat, and it turned out to be a smart move on our parts. Even though the game wasn’t scheduled to start for nearly an hour, the bleachers were beginning to fill up with students, parents, and townspeople alike. Even so, we managed to nab a spot with a clear view of the field and the sidelines. While I enjoyed watching Michael’s athletic prowess on the field, I loved studying his face after he finished a play, when he thought no one was paying him any attention.

  By the time Ruth and I finished our popcorn and drinks—our pathetic substitute for dinner—the stands were full to capacity, and the crowds were ready. I felt the anticipation building in the fans, and found myself getting swept up in their excitement. When Michael ran out onto the field with the rest of the team, I was on my feet right alongside them, cheering loudly.

  He looked amazing out there in our school’s navy and white football uniform. It showed off his broad shoulders and sculpted arms and legs, although I was the only one who knew the strength and power contained within his body. Michael literally took my breath away.

  I stared as Michael slowed his pace and took his place on the sidelines. An assistant coach came over to his side with a few instructions, and Michael nodded in agreement. Although the helmet hid a large part of his face, I studied him as he waited anxiously for the game to begin. Somehow, he must have sensed my eyes upon him, because he turned to me and smiled.

  For a moment, it was only the two of us. No crowds, no announcements, no music. Just Michael and Ellie.

  The whistle sounded, shattering our little moment. The next two and a half hours flew by. Even if I tried, I couldn’t have articulated the details of the Tillinghast team’s victories—or Michael’s feats, of which there were many. I became so swept up in the roar of the crowd and the delirium of the triumph that it felt like the game had fast-forwarded right to its successful conclusion.

  As soon as the game ended and the players gathered to run off the field together, I felt a compulsion to be with Michael. I couldn’t stop thinking about how amazing he looked on the field.

  “I’m heading down to the field, Ruth,” I called to her over the din.

  “Come on, Ellie. You’re not going to brave all that,” she yelled back in disbelief, gesturing to the jam-packed bleachers and aisles.

  “I need to see him.”

  “Why don’t you wait until afterward? Like a normal girlfriend,” she said, taunting me a bit.

  I shook my head; waiting wouldn’t do. I couldn’t delay hugging him and telling him how proud I was. Maybe it was my small way of making up to him for all my secret, disloyal thoughts. Who knew? Regardless, Ruth knew better than to argue once my mind was set, so she shrugged in response. Off I went.

  The crowd looked a lot worse than it actually was. Pretty quickly, I made my way onto the field and toward the only entrance to the locker room. Coach Samuel, easily identifiable because he wore his usual Tillinghast baseball cap, was talking to a bunch of local reporters near the door, and most of the team congregated nearby. Michael stood next to his teammates.

  But he wasn’t alone. Three very pretty junior girls, Missy among them, gathered around him. One girl was giggling too hard at something Michael had said, while another clutched at his bicep. And he was laughing along with them, reveling in all the attention.

  I froze. The sight of him being fawned over sickened me. Particularly by the golden blond, nasty Missy, whose actions had caused so many so much pain. It made me feel like the old, awkward Ellie I’d been before I met Michael. In
stinctively, I pivoted and headed back onto the field.

  I’d almost made it across the field, back toward the bleachers, when I felt a hand on my arm.

  “Ellie, where are you going?” It was Michael.

  I kept walking. “I couldn’t stand around and watch those girls throw themselves at the football hero Michael Chase.”

  Michael turned me toward him. His fair hair was dark with sweat, and his eyes appeared greener against the black smears beneath them. Most of all, he looked genuinely perplexed.

  “Missy and her little friends back there? Flirting with you?” I clarified for him, since he seemed so confused.

  “Them? Why would you care about them? You know I don’t.”

  “You seemed to be enjoying yourself.” I hated the way I sounded. On one level, I knew it was absurd to fret over Michael while the world was ticking toward its end. The fact that my feelings were ridiculous didn’t stop me from feeling insecure and jealous.

  “Ellie, I can’t stop those girls from flirting with me. And their flirting means nothing to me.” He fixed my gaze. “You know I love only you, don’t you?”

  Staring right into his serious expression, I nodded. Michael was right. I knew he was right. I was projecting all my self-doubt about being the Elect One onto Michael. I allowed myself to be enfolded in his arms and surrender to the comfort they offered.

  Chapter Ten

  Yet, Michael’s arms could not protect me that night. They could not shield me against the terrors of the darkness. Some things I had to face by myself.

  Like the dream.

  I stood in a dark, cavernous space. The tiled walls bore a damp sheen, and the air smelled wet and moldy. I could hear a slow, steady drip in the background, and it felt like I was in some kind of a subterranean room.