Acts of God

by James Beauseigneur

  A new panic consumed the camp.

  And from the eye of the one upon the horse, a tear appeared.

  "All these and hundreds of millions more," Christopher boldly boasted, "have freely chosen to follow me to hell rather than serve you. All have taken my mark. All have eagerly cursed you and the Father. All have ..."

  "ENOUGH!!" cried the one upon the horse, his eyes becoming like flames. And with that Christopher was surrounded by a score of heavenly beings. Those spirit beings who had raised Christopher from the ground now released their hold and fled in terror. Christopher's inability to resist made it painfully clear to any who doubted that instead of being Jesus' equal and opposite, Christopher was merely an impotent imposter. "The false prophet also!" Jesus said, pointing at Milner.

  By now the multitude below, understanding that they had been betrayed, turned and fled. In panic they ran, but as they did there came over them a feeling of fatigue and thirst, followed by such pain throughout their bodies as they had never felt before. And looking down, they watched as blood began to seep from their pores, and in mere minutes their flesh wrinkled and turned as gray as the day and began to literally rot away. Streams of blood rolled down their cheeks and seeped from the corners of their mouths as even their eyes and tongues began to wither and rot. The rotting did not consume them all at once, but overtook them like a cold, crawling wave of death, starting with those closest to Christopher and Milner and reaching out to swallow up everyone in its path and quench its anger.

  Then suddenly from the skies above them there descended hundreds of millions of birds, so starved by their long journey that they did not wait for death to take the fallen but rather swooped in upon their prey and began to tear the raw flesh from their bones.

  In deranged horror and torment the horde ceased their attempt to flee and turned instead on one another, seeing in each of their comrades an accomplice to Christopher and a conspirator who encouraged and helped push them down the road to damnation. In their agony each hoped as much to be killed and freed from the pain as to kill.

  Watching the melee, Christopher and Robert Milner, now cursing their captors and their captors' king, were restrained as below them there was opened a dimensional breach from which there rose a terrible stench and the heat of a blazing furnace. Six years before, Milner had told Decker that his ability to see into the future was limited by a veil beyond which he was not permitted to look. He had explained that there was something beyond the veil which he believed would be very painful and from which the spirit which shared his body was protecting him. Now the veil was gone and he realized the spirit who possessed him had not been protecting but deceiving him. Milner's spirit guide had led him straight into the jaws of hell.

  Christopher fell silent in stark terror as he began to comprehend the vastness of the flames that would be his eternal destiny. Faced with the imminent reality of his fate, the carefully crafted facade of detachment which hid his fear with defiance began to crumble. His strength borne of hatred for all that belonged to Yahweh was lost as he felt his body tremble with fear. It seemed that all he was, all he had lived for, was suddenly being undone. He had always known this moment would come, but now he found it worse than he had ever imagined. In another second he might even have begged for mercy, but Milner spoke first.

  "I trusted you, you lousy son of a bitch!" Milner screamed. "You said this wouldn't happen. I trusted you! I trusted you!"

  Suddenly Christopher felt restored. The suffering of others made it all worthwhile. "You made your own choices," Christopher answered, laughing. "So did they all."

  When the hole was opened sufficiently, Christopher and Milner were hurled, screaming, into the lake of fire and the dimensional fault was sealed.

  All that day, from Petra to Jerusalem and around the world, the dark current of death flowed until none of Christopher's followers remained alive. Some who tried to flee got as far as Jerusalem and the Kidron Valley, where their blood filled the ravine to as much as three feet deep. For 200 miles, the birds of the air feasted on the rotting carcasses of over sixty million people. By late afternoon, the sun shone again.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  The Right Place at the Right Time

  "Pull his hair!" the voice called again.

  This time Decker recognized it as the voice of his older brother, Nathan. The sound was coming from behind him and Decker strained to look back at him. There was no time to understand what his brother had meant. Seven-year-old Decker Hawthorne felt his mother's grip on his arm loosen.

  As the fingers of her left hand slipped from his arm, the muddy slope slid upward against his chest and stomach and he slipped down into the gaping sinkhole. But the fall was short; she had only let go of him with one hand; her other hand still held firmly to his arm, pulling upward, as his hands remained locked around the root he had clung to for over an hour. His eyes closed briefly. Then suddenly, without explanation or warning, Decker felt as though his head would split in two. He screamed in agony as a pain like scalding water poured over his scalp. The pain seemed unimaginable to a boy not yet eight years old.

  Decker's mother understood what Nathan meant. She had let go of her younger son's arm with one hand and had taken hold of his hair. As she pulled up she heard her son's cry of anguish but she did not let go. She pulled him toward her, letting most of the weight of his body hang from his hair. It took only a second before it had the desired effect. With every fiber of his being distracted by the pain, Decker's fingers released their hold on the root and his mother was able to finally pull him free. Decker felt the mud against his cheek and felt his body move again. He was being pulled upward. Holding tightly to his right arm, his mother quickly released her hold on his hair and, with hundreds of uprooted hairs clinging to her damp, muddy fingers, took hold of his other arm.

  Decker tried to help lift himself by digging his fingers into the slope but had no control of his blood-starved arms and hands. Nathan moved around behind his mother and took hold of her feet to keep her from sliding in as she lifted Decker out. When she had finally pulled Decker to her, she rolled to her right side to try to pull him from the hole, but that was as far as she could lift him. Decker tried to help, but he could not get a foothold on the muddy slope, and because he had no control of his arms, he was not able to pull himself up. For a moment they just held that position before Nathan realized what the problem was.

  "Help me!" his mother cried.

  Nathan moved up beside her and grabbed one of Decker's lifeless hands. Nathan was sixteen and it had always seemed to Decker that he was remarkably strong. That strength proved useful now as, with a loud grunt and a single heave, he pulled his younger brother from the sinkhole.

  Nathan dragged Decker from the side of the hole and tried to stand him on his feet but the legs of the exhausted boy could not hold the weight.

  Quickly, Decker's mother crawled away from the hole to join them. Still on her knees, she held Decker to her and finally let herself cry. Decker felt her shake from the fear she had held inside while she had tried so long to pull him free. Decker cried with her, his arms hanging limp and lifeless beside him.

  Behind his mother, Decker saw the glow of the sun setting in the west. The shadows in the pit had made it seem much later than it was and Decker felt an added warmth in knowing the day had not ended without him. As his mother held him and he watched the sunset over her shoulder, blurred by his tears, he could feel the tingle of blood returning to his arms and hands. The feeling itself was odd, but it seemed that something even odder was happening. The sun appeared not to be setting, but rising. Could he have been in the pit the whole night? Was this the sunrise? No, he knew that was west by the position of a large oak tree where he had built a tree house. Then, as he watched, the sun grew in size until it seemed to fill the sky. The brightness should have been blinding but Decker could not look away. There was no pain in looking at it, only warmth. Decker closed his eyes briefly, not because of the light but rather to reorie
nt himself. When he opened his eyes again he had the strange sensation that he was somewhere else. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he realized that there were people around him.

  There was his brother Nathan, but he was older. And standing near him was Scott Rosen, his forehead marked with the sign of the Koum Damah Tatare. Next to Rosen were his parents, Joshua and liana. A few feet away stood Tom and Rhoda Donafin and their children, Tom, Jr., Rachael, and Decker Donafin. As his eyes cleared he could see there was a very large crowd, perhaps a thousand or more people, around him. There were some that he knew well and others he had seen only once or twice before. With remarkable clarity, Decker remembered every face and what involvement each one had had in his life. It was as though somehow he had total and complete access to the memories of every event in his life. Then he saw someone that he did not recognize: a boy about four years old standing with a woman. He had seen the woman before; twice, but only briefly. Decker remembered. It was in Turin. She was the woman from the restaurant whose son had been ill.

  As unexpected as all of this was, Decker then saw something that made no sense at all. Standing there among the others was his mother! But it was his mother's arms he felt around him, wasn't it?

  Decker's senses seemed to be reemerging one by one and he became aware that the people around him were cheering. Decker Donafm was laughing and clapping, and others were dancing as if in celebration. Decker realized that he was back in his own body, fully grown, but he felt youthful and strong.

  Finally he looked down to see who was holding him and to his utter disbelief and rapture saw his beloved Elizabeth looking up at him, tears of joy in her eyes. Beside him were their daughters, Hope and Louisa, with their arms around both of their parents. They appeared just as they had the day before they died.

  Only now did the meaning hit him. He had made it. He hadn't gone to hell. Decker held his family to him and wept openly with joy. His family cried with him, as did many of those around him.

  Decker was drawn again to look into the light, but the light was no longer in the distance. Instead, it was right before him, and the light was a man. He was standing there with his arms open wide to Decker. In his life before, Decker would have curiously studied the strange similarities and yet stark differences between this man and the pretender, Christopher. But that was before. Now Decker simply understood, and dropped from Elizabeth's hold and fell flat on the ground at his still-scarred feet.

  No sooner had he done so, than the man reached down to lift him up. Decker was afraid, but he did not feel that he could resist him; he didn't truly want to. But how could he look his rescuer in the eye? His suddenly perfect memory now seemed more a curse than a blessing as he recalled every dark detail of his life. How could he let one so loving look at his life of self-love and the guilt that he knew would be written on his face? Tears of loss and shame rolled down his cheeks.

  Then suddenly Decker became aware of the cool, sweet, freshness of the air around him. As the man lifted him to his feet, Decker felt fearfully drawn to his eyes. Slowly he raised his head and looked at him through his tears. In the eyes, where Decker had expected to find anger, there was only understanding. Where he had expected to find wrath, he found only forgiveness. From the one who should have condemned, there was only love. In that moment Decker felt all of the fear, guilt, and pain of seventy-six years melt away, replaced by warmth and a glow of peace.

  Decker was drawn to look deeper and as he did, he realized that the love of the man was the source of the light around them.

  "Well done," Jesus said.

  Decker buried his face in Jesus' shoulder and wept. "I'm so sorry," he said.

  "I know, Decker. I know," Jesus said as he wept with him. "All is forgiven," he said, stroking Decker's hair, still holding him in his arms.

  Decker felt strength and comfort and healing surround him and fill him as it flowed from his savior. Soon his tears stopped and instead of the sting of guilt, he felt the tender warmth of a child in his father's arms. A few moments more and it seemed to Decker that he could stand again.

  "I must leave for now, Decker," Jesus said. *

  "But I have so many things to ask you," Decker appealed, shocked at his own boldness.

  Jesus smiled and nodded. "We will have time to talk later," he said. "Right now there are many others waiting for their resurrection. And your friends and family are here. But do not be concerned, I am always with you."

  Then he was gone. For a long moment Decker did not move. It seemed incredible but he had momentarily forgotten that there was anyone else there.

  "Sit down, Decker," Elizabeth said from behind him.

  Decker looked back and Elizabeth was standing next to an outcropping of rock which seemed a perfect height for sitting. He did not recall seeing it there a few moments before but assumed it had been hidden by the press of people. As he sat, Hope, Louisa, and Elizabeth gathered closely around him but left his view unobstructed so others could greet and speak with him.

  Decker suddenly realized that the number of those around him had dropped from more than a thousand to perhaps less than a hundred. "What happened to the others?" he asked Elizabeth, assuming she would understand his reference.

  "They have gone on to be at some of the other resurrections. You'll have plenty of opportunity to see them later."

  Decker looked around him at the incredible beauty. All around were lush plants and flowers and trees. Birds of great variety flew overhead or rested on tree limbs. Nearby a creek gurgled, filling the air with the soft sound of flowing water. In the distance perhaps a hundred miles off, green rolling hills gave way to an immense mountain, higher than any he had ever seen before. From the temperature he guessed it to be late spring. The air was so pure and fresh it was almost sweet in his lungs.

  "Is this heaven?" Decker asked.

  "No," his brother Nathan laughed. "This is earth. Though it's not at all the same as you remember it. Things have changed quite a bit."

  "But I thought that when you died ..."

  "... you went to heaven?" liana Rosen said, finishing Decker's sentence.

  Decker nodded.

  "This is what is known as the Millennial Kingdom," Joshua Rosen said. "In the book of Revelation it says that with his blood Messiah purchased us from every tribe and language and people and nation, and that we will reign with him on the earth for 1000 years. Well that's where we are."

  "But what about heaven?"

  "Oh, well you can certainly go there. In fact you can go anywhere you want, any place, any time, anywhere in the universe, and to dimensions you've never even dreamed of. But this is home. The earth has been restored to the way it was in the time of the Garden of Eden."

  This was not at all what Decker had expected. The images which had been painted in his imagination of sitting around on a cloud and playing a harp had never been very appealing, and he found this much more to his liking — though he would not have complained otherwise, greatly preferring harps and clouds to the flames of hell.

  "The last thing I remember was ..." Decker paused as he reached up to touch his neck. He did not expect to find anything, but his fingers quickly came to rest on the scar of his decapitation. Immediately he reached up with his other hand to confirm his finding: the scar ran all the way around his neck. His eyes filled with wonder: not that the recollection of his death was correct, but that he bore the scar. It seemed terribly incongruous to him that having been restored to youthful form, he would yet retain the scar of his beheading. "I don't understand," he said.

  "It's sort of a badge of honor," Tom Donafin answered. "All who were executed by Christopher bear it. It marks you as one who gave his life rather than bowing to Christopher. All martyrs bear some mark of their martyrdom ..." Decker raised his eyebrows, surprised that, considering the circumstances of his life and death, he should be counted worthy of that distinction. ". . . though not to the point of being disfigured," Tom concluded.

  All at once Decker realized that Tom'
s appearance had changed significantly from what he remembered. He was not just young again; his head was no longer disfigured from the accident he had been in as a child. "Tom, your head," Decker said as he jumped to his feet.

  "Oh, yes," Tom commented. "Do you like it?" he asked in jest.

  "You look great!"

  "Thanks. But continue your story," Tom insisted.

  Decker thought back to where he had left off. "After Christopher cut off my head," he continued, as he sat back down on the rock, "I remember discovering that there were a few seconds of consciousness before I actually died. My awareness was fading when, clear as day, I heard a voice. I didn't know where it was coming from, but I was certain it was talking to me. It sounded like Christopher, but at the same time it was very different from Christopher's voice. I know now it was Jesus. He said, 'Come.' That's all. Just, 'Come.'" Decker looked up at Scott Rosen, "Then suddenly I remembered what you told me about the thief on the cross."

  "I'll have to introduce you to him later," Rosen interjected.

  Decker was a little caught off guard by the fact he would have such an opportunity, but did not let it distract him from his account. "In that instant I knew that it was not too late for me. I remember thinking how ironic it was that after seventy-six years, there I was, decapitated and an instant from death, and I finally understood why I had been born."

  "God is never too early or too late, Decker, but always right on time." The speaker was a beautiful brown-haired woman with a melodic Scottish accent whom Decker had never met, but who he somehow knew was his great-great-grandmother.