He sighs. “All what is in there?”
“About what happened. I discovered that Jesus would come back for his followers, and then a man will become leader of the entire world. Have you heard of the Antichrist?”
Matt looks down at the floor. “Emma. You’re exhausted.”
“I know, but I can’t rest without knowing.”
He moves to her, putting his hands on her shoulders and casting long shadows on the wall. “People are on this. Lots of people are trying to figure this out. People with PhDs.”
She looks in his eyes. The distance between them is growing with each hour. She is grieving and tired and desperately wants to know what has happened in the world, but Matt finds every reason to belittle her. She presses on. “Are they looking in here?” She says, flipping the pages of the Bible. He shakes his head, about to answer, but she doesn’t let him. “The leader, the Antichrist, according to Mrs. Ramos’s notes, he’s called a bunch of names, but he’s in Revelation along with another man, a great religious leader who is a false prophet. They’ll lead people astray and away from the truth. At some point they’ll force people to take a mark on their hand or their forehead if they want to buy or sell anything. If a person doesn’t take the mark, they’re killed. But if they do take the mark, they prove that they’re against God and won’t get into heaven.” Matt sighs loudly, but Emma continues. “Mrs. Ramos wrote in her Bible that these two men and Satan make an unholy trinity. Just the opposite of the Holy Trinity. They’ll make…”
Matt raises his hand. “Stop it, Emma!” She looks stricken. “Just stop it. This is ridiculous. Antichrist. Taking a mark. Unholy trinity. It’s like Grimm’s fairy tales or something.”
Her voice is quiet. “Why would you say that without looking into…”
“It’s not realistic,” he says, laughing. “It’s not believable, Em! It’s really bad science fiction.” He works at buttoning his shirt. “I’m going into the city.”
She wraps her arms around the Bible and turns to look out the window so he can’t see her face. “Why? It’s still dark. Don’t go, Matt. You shouldn’t be out when it’s dark. Something could happen.”
“You’re freaking yourself out because you keep filling your mind with all that creepy stuff in there,” he says, indicating the Bible in her hand. “Why don’t you give your mind a break?” He looks out the window. “It will be light in a few minutes. I need to see what’s left. I need to see if the restaurant is still there, or the university.” He fastens the last button and talks to the back of her head. “It might all be gone, and then what? What do I do?”
She’s already thought about this and about her own job, and lacks an answer. She turns to look at him; she wants to tell him that he should stay with her, but can tell by his face that he’s set on going.
“I’ll be back later.” He leaves the apartment, and she turns to go lock the door behind him.
She walks back toward the window but stops at the coffee table, lifting the bridal magazines from it, looking at them in the half-light of the candles. Her eyes fill as she stares at the covers of beautiful brides, smiling as if they had swallowed the sun itself. She tosses the magazines into the garbage can in the kitchen and notices a picture of her with her mom and Sarah on the refrigerator. She takes it down and moves near the glow of candlelight, gazing at the image. It was taken last Christmas, and her mom made prints of the picture for each of them to have. “How can you keep up with special pictures on those crazy phones?” her mom had said. “Now you each can have this in front of you every day and remember how much I love you.” Tears fall down Emma’s face as she looks into her mom’s eyes. Emma carries the picture with her and walks to the window, just making out the cratered remains of the city in the first light of dawn.
She slips the picture between the pages of Mrs. Ramos’s Bible and reads for nearly two hours, studying Revelation again, and the realization of what is coming in the days ahead makes her stomach feel like it’s moving up into her throat. She looks up from the words and her eye catches what looks to be a little boy around nine or ten across the street. He is standing outside an apartment building. She gets up, straining to see if anyone is with the boy, but from what she can make out, it looks like he’s alone. There are individuals and a few groups of people on the street, but she can’t see what they’re doing. She assumes that all looting is done by now. What could possibly be left? And who would leave a child alone out on a city street on a normal day, let alone after everything that’s happened? She decides to watch for a few minutes to see if anyone comes for him.
Tired of standing, she sits on the chair and rests her forehead on the window, keeping watch. After several moments she notices a group of people down the road who are getting closer to the boy’s apartment building. The boy is still there, and Emma’s heart begins to pound harder. What is he doing? she wonders. Who is watching him? With that she becomes concerned. Who else is watching him besides her? She cranes her neck to see the group, and they’re now very close to the boy’s building and are mostly young men. She can’t go outside; she’s too terrified to leave the apartment. She pauses a second more, but can’t stand the thought any longer and gets up, grabbing her keys from the counter.
Running out the front door of the building, Emma’s hair stands up on the back of her neck. The air is filled with the smell of fire and it sends a chill down her spine just thinking about all that lies beneath the ash. The normal street sounds and rumblings of life are missing, replaced instead with a disturbing silence, an eerie quiet that unnerves her. She looks across the street, and two of the young men from the group are talking to the little boy. Her heart races as she runs toward them. “Get back in the apartment,” she says, as if she knows the boy. “Go! Go now!”
“What’s your problem?” snarls one of the young men, cursing at her.
“He’s been out long enough,” Emma says, her heart beating wildly, but pulling the little boy up the entry steps of the apartment building and inside. She locks the door and pulls him down the hallway. Up close he seems younger than ten, with skin the color of light cocoa and curly brown hair. “You were standing out there a long time. Do you live in this building?” He nods. “It’s not safe for you to be outside.” She is unsure of how to ask the next question. “Is your mom home?”
He shakes his head. “She’s gone.”
Her heart sinks. “I’m so sorry. My mom is gone too.”
He looks up at her. “Did she leave when you were four?”
She pauses, letting his words sink in. “No. She was one of the…” She stops. “Do you live with your dad?” He dips his chin. “Is he in your apartment right now?” He nods, and she looks up and down the hallway. “Does he even know that you were outside?” He doesn’t answer and she steps closer to him, bending over so she can look him in the eyes. “My name’s Emma, and I live in that building across the street. I think your dad needs to know where you are. Can I walk you back to your apartment?”
He won’t look at her, but shakes his head no. Emma is uneasy; something isn’t right. “Could you tell me your apartment number? I’d like to let your dad know that you’re down here.”
He gazes at the floor and says, “203.”
“Could you come and wait outside your door while I try knocking?” He follows Emma to the second floor and stops at the end of the hallway. She turns to look at him, wondering why he won’t go any further. “Wait for me?” He nods, and she finds 203 and knocks. She knocks again and again, with no answer. She looks up and down the hallway, so afraid to be here. She realizes there’s no possible way she can continue to let the little boy stand outside unsupervised and decides to try the doorknob. It’s unlocked, and she opens the door a couple of inches, knocking and calling out into the apartment. “Excuse me, sir! Your little boy is outside alone!”
She waits for a moment for someone to come to the door, but no one does. She opens it a little more and yells again into the apartment. “Is anybody here?” Sh
e sticks her head through the doorway and is hit with a powerful odor—a combination of spoiled food, body stench, feces, and marijuana or something else. She yells louder this time, “Hello! Is anybody here?” She opens the door all the way and steps inside, calling out to anyone who may be down the short hallway. “Your little boy is outside!”
The smell is overwhelming, and Emma covers her nose. “Is anyone here?” The hallway spills over into a living room/kitchen area, and Emma gasps. “Oh my God!” There are four…five, six, or maybe more people who are either passed out or sitting in a zombie-like stupor on the floor. Crack pipes lay on the coffee table, and one shirtless man sits with a needle sticking out of his arm, his eyes rolled back into his head. She has no idea whether there are others inside the bedroom but imagines there are. She runs back through the short hallway and slams the door to the apartment shut, racing to the little boy.
He has wedged himself into a corner and looks at Emma as she runs toward him, peppering him with questions. “How long have those people been in your apartment?” He shrugs. “How long have you been outside?” He shakes his head. “Are you afraid?” He nods. “Yeah, me too.”
Emma kneels down in front of him. “I realize you don’t know me, but I really think you should come to my apartment and stay for a while. Just until…” she struggles for words. “Just until we know it’s safe for you to go back to your own apartment. Normally, this would be a bad idea. It would never be safe for you to go to a stranger’s apartment. On a typical day, it isn’t safe for a little boy like you to even talk to a stranger. But this isn’t a normal, typical day, is it?” He shakes his head. “When’s the last time you’ve eaten?” He gazes down, thinking, but doesn’t answer. “Okay, we don’t have much, but I do know we have peanut butter. Could I make you a sandwich?” He nods, and she sticks out her hand. “Like I said, I’m Emma.”
“Micah.”
“Hi, Micah. How old are you?”
“Nine-and-a-half. How old are you?”
“Twenty-five-and-a-half.”
“That’s old.”
“You know, I’ve never felt old, but that changed a few days ago.”
CHAPTER 22
Queens, NY
Elliott reaches for his phone and runs up to the roof. It’s a crazy idea, but maybe there’s the possibility of picking up a signal from a faroff cell tower. He dials the number for his dad, hoping that this will work. He’s been using a solar charger that his brother gave him for his birthday to charge his cell, and now he prays that he’ll get a signal. Cell phones and computers will help share the word of salvation in Christ with many more people, he tells himself. His plan doesn’t work, so he shifts to the other side of the roof, looking at the signal bars on his phone. Half a bar is lit, and once again he dials his father’s number.
“Elliott!” Hearing his father say his name makes him cry. He’s so happy to hear his dad’s voice, yet knows he is about to grieve his mom and dad’s hearts. “We’ve been so afraid. We didn’t know if you were hit in the attack.” His dad begins to cry and puts his wife on the phone.
His mother’s voice breaks as she asks, “Where are you, Elliott? Are you hurt?”
“No, no! I’m not hurt, Mom.”
She’s sobbing on the other end. “We made it to your uncle’s house and have been trying to call, but…”
“I know! It’s so hard to get through right now. Are you and Dad okay?”
“We are. So shaken. So very afraid, but all right. We’ve been terrified since hearing of the attack on New York. I’ve been crying out in prayers for you! Are you sure you’re okay? Are you almost here?”
Elliott prays again for the right words to say. “I’m not hurt, but I… can’t come, Mom.”
“What?! You need to get out of the city!”
He stares out at the city’s destruction. “I want to be there with you and Dad, and I’m so happy that you’re safe with Uncle Harold, but I have to stay here.”
His mom’s words are full of worry as her voice fills again. “Why? What is happening, Elliott?”
“I know what happened to all the people who disappeared around the world.”
“What do you mean? What do you know?”
“Mom, please let Dad hear this too.” He can hear her tell his dad that she’s putting him on speakerphone. “You both know what I’m like. You know I’m sensible and I’m not gullible or easily persuaded.” Looking over the ruins of New York City, Elliott feels a breeze against his skin. “Please listen to me. Just prior to the attack, my apartment was filled with light.”
“What do you mean, light?” his dad asks. “What kind of light?”
“I didn’t know, but then a man appeared in my apartment and began talking to me. He knew my name. He said that he was Yeshua, our Messiah.”
“Blasphemy!” his father says, screaming into the phone. “Our Messiah has not come! You were hit during the attack! You were hallucinating!”
Elliott’s heart is beating against his ribs; he talks faster and louder. “No, Dad! I wasn’t! My apartment building is standing. Everything about me is fine. Yeshua filled my apartment and told me that all the people who disappeared are with him. Yeshua, our Messiah, came over two thousand years ago. He died and rose again and lives in heaven. He called for his own and he took them there, but he’ll return again.”
“We can’t listen to this!” his mother says, screaming.
“I know you can’t listen right now, but please believe me. Please believe that I love you. Jesus has made me one of his 144,000 servants on Earth for this time. I have been sealed for his work.”
“Blasphemy!” his father yells, away from the phone. “Go see the rabbi! Go see the rabbi! You’ve lost your mind!” He is so outraged that his voice is breaking.
“Look up Revelation 7,” Elliott begs. “Please Mom! Please read Revelation 7 in the Bible.” The line goes dead. Elliott’s eyes fill as he looks up into the sky. “Please, Hashem, please. I love them so much.”
CHAPTER 23
Queens, NY
Emma opens the door and hurries Micah outside his apartment building, wanting to get back to her apartment. “Without electricity, I can’t warm up or cook anything, and I know we don’t have any bread. It’s probably a long shot, but maybe there’s something left at the market.”
She glances up into windows and can see some onlookers watching them, while others dart away into the shadows. She wonders again what would have happened to Micah with so many groups of people—or should she call them gangs?—wandering the streets. The trash that was ready for pickup three days ago still sits on the roadside, the smell becoming pungent. Some garbage cans have been overturned, probably in the rush when so many were running to get home, or maybe from dogs that smelled a free meal.
Emma quickens her pace and keeps Micah close to her as they turn the corner for the main road. For the first time, she sees the battered shops and restaurants of her neighborhood and feels sick to her stomach. The exteriors of businesses and restaurants have been scarred and cratered from the attack, like in war zones from pictures she’s seen. The insides have been ransacked, making them look more like long-abandoned shops of a ghost town than the brimming city Emma has loved. So many people lived with anger and hate before the disappearances; why would they play nice now? Why would they respect someone else’s property if the insides were exposed, free for the taking? Horrified by the sight, she puts her arm around Micah’s shoulder to hurry him along.
Stepping inside a market at the end of the block, Emma notices the cashier holding a gun and she directs Micah through the store. Store owners have had to guard their businesses, sometimes even living inside of them to protect whatever goods are left, which appears to be what this owner has been doing. All the shelves are nearly empty and, as suspected, there isn’t any bread. She picks up a can of beans and looks at the price: ten dollars. Anger swells in her chest as she holds up the can for the cashier to see. “You can’t charge this kind of money for a can
of beans!”
The cashier’s anger is equal to hers as he curses her out. “Do you see my shelves? I had to fight to keep what I had.” He holds up the gun. “I don’t know when the next truck is coming in. I charge what I want!”
Emma feels Micah watching her and realizes there’s no point in arguing. Once these few remaining groceries are gone, this store will probably go out of business. Where are the trucks with groceries? When would they be coming through again? What if there are no more trucks? What then? She reaches for Micah’s hand and hurries to get out of the store and back to the safety of her apartment.
“Okay,” she says, opening her cupboards to find something. A nearly empty bag of bread sits in a cupboard next to the peanut butter, and she places it on the kitchen counter. “Feel free to sit on the sofa or here on a stool.” She reaches for the peanut butter and sets it down, looking at him. “I’d say you can watch some TV, but there hasn’t been electricity since…” She stops.
“Since we were attacked,” he says, climbing onto a stool at the counter.
She nods. “Yeah.” She pulls out a plate and puts two slices of bread on it, then reaches for jelly out of the refrigerator. They have kept it closed as much as they can to keep the food cold, but there isn’t much in it to begin with; she and Matt ate a lot of their meals at restaurants. She spreads some grape jelly onto one of the slices.
“You said you were afraid.” It’s the loudest Micah has spoken since she has met him, and it takes her by surprise. His eyes are earnest but show fear.
She is honest with him. “Yes, I am. I’m terrified.”
“Did a lot of people die when we were attacked?”
She nods, spreading a thick layer of peanut butter on the other slice. “I don’t know for certain but…” She pauses, knowing that now is the time for truth. “Yes. Many people died. Much of the city is gone.”
The Time of Jacob's Trouble Page 10