by Wm. Barnard
Skies all over the world were filled with gray ash as fires raged out of control. Inundated with people needing aid, many Metropolitan hospitals were refusing to take on more patients. More than half of telephone and internet companies reported service issues which only created more problems. With so many employees tardy or missing from every kind of occupation, the economy grinded to a halt and inevitably on Monday all the international Stock Markets collapsed.
The President made a couple of brief speeches during the week and tried to encourage everyone to pull together. While attempting to appear confident, no president could possibly have been prepared to face this kind of epic disaster.
Reports kept pouring in from around the globe about people who had vanished into thin air, but what seemed even more bizarre was that all the young children in the world had simultaneously disappeared. Parents everywhere diligently sustained their search for missing sons and daughters, but became more distraught with each passing day. As I scanned the adjacent lots from my corner bay window, the absence of kids playing and laughing in their front yards made the neighborhood feel like a ghost town.
Everyone had questions and there was no shortage of rumors as to what had actually occurred.
Naturally people speculated that this was the Rapture that Christians always talked about, but this idea only seemed to confuse and divide people. No one appeared to express more outrage over this suggestion than the remaining clergy of Christian churches who were adamant that the Rapture was bad theology.
Discussions among scientists indicated that no concept was too farfetched at this point. All kinds of ideas were being tossed around: from unexplainable changes in the earth’s atmosphere, to mysterious gasses released from within the earth, to even the idea of alien abductions. While everything was open for debate, no one could provide any concrete evidence for any of these theories.
Of course, the majority of people didn’t have the luxury to sit around and speculate all day as to the possible sources of this pandemonium. The steady stream of depressing news stories confirmed that most people were simply struggling to deal with the aftermath.
In certain instances, I saw the goodness of man as people united to rescue others, clean up wreckage and do whatever was needed to restore order. On the opposite spectrum, rampant rioting and looting persisted around the world, unveiling people’s darker side. My affluent neighborhood was now no stranger to frequent break-ins and I kept a loaded pistol next to my bed.
Impossible to anticipate or even imagine such a far-reaching catastrophe, we had been tossed head first into the worst nightmare of all-time.
Several news organizations had tried contacting me during the following week, but I instructed my publicist via email to say I had no comment at this time. Even though I went on my website daily, I had yet to reply to the infinite messages I had received. Everyone wanted to know whether this was the day that had been prophesized about The Ancestors’ arrival.
Several of the “regulars” on my webzine blogs, many of whom possessed far more experience with The Ancestors than I, boldly proclaimed this was indeed “The Day,” that this very moment in history would soon initiate an influx of astronauts from outside our galaxy. Pleading for patience, they preached that hope was on the horizon.
Others questioned the aliens’ motives and methods of suddenly expelling a vast portion of mankind when the obvious results would be so much pain and suffering for those left behind. They wanted to know why the aliens chose to leave all these wicked dictators in power and menacing thugs to still roam our streets. Why abduct so many people who were not hurting anybody? And how were parents supposed to even function while worrying about the whereabouts and welfare of their children?
While frequent visitors to the webzine, and new ones alike, kept calling on me for answers, I remained paralyzed with dread as a mountain of my own questions weighed down on me. My continued efforts to contact The Ancestors remained fruitless, adding to my frustration and fear.
With my mind filling with doubts, I wasn’t about to post or even admit out loud what bothered me the most about the latest developments.
For the last year and half, I had felt like a beacon of hope for people everywhere. Wanting to enlighten others to The Ancestors’ promise of deliverance, I had looked forward to The Day they would come and save us. Even though Shanda had told me that they would have to remove a population from the earth to “reeducate” them, for some reason I had not given it much thought about the ensuing consequences for us who were still here.
For six straight days, I never left the confines of my home, thinking that if I could somehow isolate myself for a while that I might be able to finally get a better grasp on the situation. While I maintained my attempts to reach Vanessa and Johnny, every unanswered call increased my anxiety as to what had happened to them. When contacting Vanessa’s precinct earlier in the week, I had been informed by a female clerk that no one seemed to know the whereabouts of her or Jason. While the clerk had promised to contact me if they found out anything, I had yet to hear back from her.
Several times a day I tried emailing and calling Bill and Gloria, wanting to make sure they were okay, but even more importantly I needed some imparting wisdom from them. From the strange way his phone and voicemail sounded, it was unclear if my messages were even recorded.
Since Johnny’s phone continued to have technical issues, this gave me a glimmer of hope that I possibly hadn’t heard from Vanessa because she simply had problems with her work cell phone.
Late one afternoon, I finally drove over again to her house only to find it still empty with no signs that she had returned. I wrote her a note to call me when she came in, but as I slowly turned the key to lock her back door my heart sank because I somehow knew right then I would never see her again.
As I lay in bed that night, images of Vanessa flooded my mind: memories of summer afternoons riding bikes and skateboarding down hills; the glow on her face at her college graduation dinner; the time she leaned on my shoulder at mother’s funeral. While trying to cling to those times spent together, I now grasped I would never have the opportunity to tell her how much she meant to me and I finally broke down and wept.
IT HAD BEEN JUST OVER two weeks since The Day, but getting up in the morning only became more difficult as watching the news revealed an ever increasing number of alarming developments. The most distressing update came as some madcap militant group had captured a nuclear power plant on the border of Jordan and Israel. They threatened to vaporize everybody in the area along with themselves if Zionists around the world did not meet their vague demands. Thoroughly repulsed after ten minutes of that story, I knew I needed to get out of the house.
Even though many of the fires in San Diego County had been contained, the air now reeked of burnt plastic and rubber. Weaving along back streets behind my neighborhood and looking down over one of San Diego’s major freeways, I was staggered when I saw with my own eyes all the wrecked cars and trucks still stacked across several lanes. The Department of Transportation had ordered bulldozers and snowplows to push the vehicles into the fast lanes, freeing up at least one lane, but you could outrace the traffic in either direction on a bicycle.
Even though more phone lines were reportedly working at this time, I still had been unable to reach Johnny. Hoping he had not become more ill, I also wondered what his test results had shown. As I neared the local market, I momentarily thought about getting on the Five freeway north to go look for him, but I realized that the trip would take forever to get up to the Bay area and I had no idea if I would even find him once I got there.
As I rounded a sharp curve in the road, a lone hitchhiker wearing a light blue t-shirt waved his thumb at me. I glanced over at him with no thoughts of stopping at first, but something about the look in his eyes had me pulling over about a hundred yards past where he stood. While he seemed harmless enough, watching him in the rearview mirror as he jogged up to the car made me rather uneasy of whether I sh
ould actually offer him a ride. The thought that I hadn’t reached out to a single person during this crisis caused a crumbling, stone wall of guilt to topple down on me and I hit the unlock button to let him in.
Appearing in his mid-fifties, he wore a nicely trimmed beard with gray streaks. Sounding slightly winded, the man huffed, “Hey, thanks for stopping. I’ve been walking for a while and I just need to get up the road a bit. However far you can take me will be fine.”
“No problem. I’m just heading to the market at the bottom of the hill,” I said before merging back on the road.
“Hope all the grocery trucks have been able to get the supplies in. Name’s Gabe.”
“Nice to meet you, I’m…”
“Zach Miller. I’ve actually been eager to meet you.” Gabe cut me off.
Alarmed at his statement, I quickly reasoned he must be a reader.
“Seems you have gotten yourself in a little dilemma, Zach,” he said slightly tugging on his beard.
“It’s safe to say we’re all facing some huge dilemmas right now,” I answered, trying to deflect his comment, but the personal nature of it made me tense up.
“There is definitely no getting around that. But it just baffles me when I read those posts a few months ago on your webzine. Please explain how you could put your faith in these aliens to build a new world if they left you in such a mess.”
Trying to remain calm, I stuttered, “Well, I’m sure…”
“And another thing that doesn’t make sense. If you are a divine being who can control your own destiny as they claim, how is it that you would still need their help to make the world right? I mean, which is it?”
Extremely irritated that he somehow knew the same questions that had been troubling me recently, I now regretted picking him up.
“Well, if you’d let me finish. I’m sure there is a reason for both of those points, but right now I’m trying to give it time so I can understand the ‘whys’ and ‘hows’.”
“Excuse me for being so blunt, but I keep wondering why you’ve been ignoring the one thing that you must know deep down to be true. See, I’ve been watching you for a while now and I don’t understand some of your decision making…”
“What are you freaking talking about?” I shot back. Thoughts flooded my mind about how this guy may have been stalking me and I nervously gripped the gear shift.
Gabe spoke calm, authoritative. “I’ve been sent here to tell you that this is your last chance. You need to come to God before it’s too late.”
I jerked the steering wheel toward the bike lane and slammed on the brakes. “Get out!”
“I will,” he nodded, keeping his eyes on me.
Unhitching his seat belt, he slowly opened the door before placing one foot on the pavement. “But you need to know there’s a reason you haven’t heard from these demons lately. We’ve been binding them so that you can have this final chance to respond to God’s offer of forgiveness. Understand that from here on out, the forces of darkness are gathering for one final push for the souls of men.”
He exited the truck before I could reply and I now saw him in my peripheral, walking back toward where I had picked him up.
A half second later, he instantly appeared on the driver’s side of my truck, causing my whole body to jerk sideways in attempts to distance myself from him.
“Zach, even after you have led so many people astray, God still loves you and wants you to come to Him.” His voice firm, he looked at me with a piercing gaze.
The suddenness of his peering into my window petrified me, but as I regained my clutch on the steering wheel, a warm wind began to mysteriously howl through my windows and shake my truck.
“But woe unto you if you do not humble yourself before the Lord,” his voice thundered.
As soon as he said the last word, I salvaged enough composure to kick the gas pedal and my spinning tires created a haze of light brown dust. Rapidly stamping the buttons to lock my doors and roll up my windows, I peeked at the rearview mirror and my eyes went wide. He was gone.
Hitting the brakes, my body whipped forward before slamming back against the seat when the pickup came to a halt. A nasty crunching sound came from my gearbox as I prematurely threw the truck in reverse and floored the gas. The tires squealed while swerving backwards about a hundred yards and I almost lost control until my back wheels bounced off the curve and up onto a sidewalk. Yanking the emergency brake, I jumped out and spun around in a full circle, but he was still nowhere to be found.
A slight embankment down into a ravine led me to impulsively jog down it to see if I could spot him. Passing only the tiny shrubs that lined the floor of the empty canyon, I soon realized there wasn’t anything substantial down here to hide a grown man.
“How could he just vanish like that?” I whispered as I turned to walk back up to the road.
Once back in the seat of my truck, I hurried to close my door as another car approached from the opposite lane. I nervously hit the gas, launching my pickup off the curb and back onto the street. The other car slowed down and two women gazed at me, no doubt pondering what influenced me to stop on the side of an empty road. Making a conscious effort to avoid their stares as they passed by, I began scanning the sides of the canyon as if Gabe could possibly be somewhere down the way.
By the time I arrived to the grocery store, I looked forward to being in a familiar setting around normal people; something I hoped would ease the churning knot inside my stomach. Pushing my cart aimlessly down the first couple of aisles, I couldn’t stop myself from looking back over my shoulder every few seconds and kept a Kung Fu grip on the handle to keep my hands from shaking. When I ended up in front of the beer section, I snatched up a twelve pack of Newcastle and hurried down the aisle. Once I found the hallway that lead to the bathroom, I ripped into the box and nuzzled three beers under my arms before pushing the door open with my shoulder. Hoping no one had noticed, I rushed into one of the stalls and began to guzzle down each beer.
My brief detour provided the desired effect as I ambled out of the bathroom slightly tipsy, but much more relaxed. Now I could focus on buying as much food as I could fit into my car so I wouldn’t have to make another grocery trip for a while. It appeared that at least a few trucks had been able to make their deliveries, but the shelves still sat less than half full. Oddly enough, the beer and wine section remained well stocked, and I made another trip down that aisle and grabbed a few cases of beer.
The checkout line went almost halfway across the store as the two struggling cashiers were clearly undermanned. While I had avoided looking at people I had passed by in the aisles, I now noticed that almost everyone standing around possessed a vacant look in their eyes as if they simply anticipated impending doom.
Trying to distract myself from the ominous vibe that surrounded me, I browsed through the rack holding the tabloids and magazines. My eyes went quickly to the cover that featured Antonio Gonzalez, the US Ambassador to Brazil, along with several other dignitaries in the background. Picking up the magazine to get a closer look, I found the news article highlighting the United Nations efforts to help the world leaders join forces in this time of international turmoil.
The first paragraph quoted Gonzalez as saying that despite the many challenges the U.N. currently faced, he still felt extreme optimism and sensed that there would soon be a great turn for the good as the best minds on the planet were at work to help bring back a state of normalcy. He stated that one of the most pertinent tasks at hand was electing a new President for the U.N. General Assembly since a plane crash earlier in the week had presumably taken the life of Haya Al-Khalifalla. Asked to give his opinion on the most qualified candidates, Gonzales noted the early favorites as either Secretary General Reina Fuentes or the new European Union Ambassador, Boris Wolfe.
Back in the safety of my home, I sat down on the couch to eat a turkey sandwich and finish the rest of the article about the U.N.’s efforts over the last week. Even though I had been extrem
ely impressed with what I had heard about Boris Wolfe, I wondered why he did not publicly mention his belief in The Ancestors. Maybe the timing wasn’t right, but I sensed Mr. Wolfe chose to play it political and remain ambiguous about what he really believed.
Unable to finish the rest of the article as a lack of sleep caught up to me, I rolled over and passed out. Hearing someone whisper my name, I perceived that my guardian Ancestor was hovering above my couch.
“Zach, we need to warn you again about the evil Ancestors who are trying to deceive you. Do not be fooled as they want to distract you from fulfilling your great calling. Remember, the time is at hand. Soon we will reveal ourselves to the entire world and we will all rejoice!”
My entire body flinched violently, jolting me awake. I immediately noticed my arm and shoulder muscles ached as if I had been struggling to break free from the grasp of something, or someone. Sitting up quickly, I scanned my living room for any indication that someone might be in the house.
With dusk setting in, the living room lamps cast long shadows across the intricately designed rugs. The dim light emanating from the kitchen made me wonder if I had left it on and my eyes shot over to the blinking green light on the central alarm panel by the front door, revealing that it had not been triggered. This did little to ease my nerves, so I started to slowly roll my neck and take deep breaths in attempts to calm down. While most of my previous encounters with The Ancestors had given me a greater sense of clarity, this one had left me extremely perplexed. It also led me to re-examine my strange meeting earlier with the hitch hiker, which only compounded my confusion even further.
Dwelling more on these two conflicting messages began to completely overwhelm me and I felt like my head was going to explode. Convinced that I would go insane if I sat there for another minute, I jumped up in hopes to preoccupy myself with some trivial tasks around the house. Flipping on several lights around the house, I started to clean up and organize my small makeshift office. As I dug through a pile of unopened mail, I spotted a crate beside my desk that held a couple of books that my sister had given me. Vanessa had claimed these books contained facts that validated her faith, but I had always considered these mere opinions from born again Bible thumpers. While planning on throwing them away years ago, I was glad I hadn’t because it gave me something to remind me of her.