by Ralph Gibbs
Danica made it home by nightfall. Pulling into the driveway, she spotted Erica’s car. She rushed over and knocked on Erica’s door. When there was no answer, she knocked a second time and then a third. She was about to give up when the door opened a crack.
“Erica,” Danica said relieved at seeing her neighbor. “I’m sorry for leaving Matthew home by himself.”
“It’s okay honey,” Erica said in an almost emotionless voice. “I got your note. I understand.”
“You sure everything is okay?”
“Yes. I’m going to put Matthew to bed now. He’s not feeling well.”
“Oh, damn. Not him too.”
“He’s fine. He’s just tired.”
“I know how he feels. I think I’ll do the same.” When Danica arrived home, she went upstairs and cried herself to sleep.
CHAPTER 13
When the time finally came to deliver his sermon, Abraham Winthrop was as prepared as he could be. Because of the plague, he needed to inspire his followers, and all agreed it was an inspiring speech. Now he just needed to deliver. As Brother Holland introduced him to the audience, he listened to their lack of reaction from behind the red curtain. Usually, as Holland neared the end of his introduction, there was laughter and applause, and it wasn’t uncommon for them to spontaneously break into a hymn. They once even sang God Bless America. Today there was only silence. Peeking through the curtain, his suspicions were confirmed: his congregation looked as if they were about to break. With God’s judgment passing over the world, striking down believers and non-believers alike, how could he blame them? He felt ready to break.
As Abraham watched the gathering, he instinctively knew the speech wasn’t going to be good enough. If he were going to reassure them everything was progressing according to God’s plan, he would have to scrap this speech and give one that was more personal. That meant a speech off-the-cuff and from the heart. As he came to a decision, his body began to tingle, and at that moment, he realized God’s Glory filled him. The fire was back. No one would accuse him of phoning in his performance. Tonight would to be his Academy Award-winning moment. He dropped to his knees and clasped his hands to his chest in prayer.
“Heavenly Father, hear my plea,” he said, his voice carrying to the stage. Holland faltered in his speech as he both strained to hear Abraham and introduce him to the congregation. “Please, Lord, it’s not too late. America can change. Let your Angel of Death pass over your chosen people so we can continue your good works. Tell me what to do. I am yours to do with what you will. Fill me with your Word and your Glory.”
Holland fell silent, and people looked at each other with worried expressions. A few began to wonder if the strain had become too much for Father Abraham. Maybe he was infected. As Holland tried to continue, Abraham heard a voice whispering in his ear, and he cried.
“I hear you, Lord,” Abraham shouted amidst tears. “I hear you.”
Finally, with words fresh in his mind, he stood up, and stumbled through the curtain, making his way on shaky legs to the podium. He tried not to rush, as this was as much about show as it was about words.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Holland said flustered at not having finished his introduction. “I give you the true President of the United States of America, and our spiritual leader, Abraham John Winthrop.” There was a scattering of polite and confused applause.
As Abraham reached the podium, he wiped away tears and gazed upon the small gathering. It was smaller than he hoped. Only about two hundred braved the gathering. Nearly all of them wore surgical masks. The small crowd didn’t matter. Once his sermon was over, a videotape would be posted to their website.
“Hallelujah,” he shouted into the microphone. Several members of the audience half-heartedly shouted it back, and still, others raised their hands toward the heavens as if waiting for the power of God to strike them like lightning. He pounded his fist down on the podium and punctuated each syllable. “Hall-e-lu-jah!”
Unable to contain himself, he jerked the microphone from its holster and moved out from behind the podium. “Ladies and gentlemen, I see fear in your faces.” He paused to let his words seep in. “I see fear in your faces, and it shames me.”
Behind him, several of the leaders seated at their last supper mockup looked confused. This was not the approved speech. Other apostles seemed annoyed.
“Forgive us,” someone shouted, followed by others. The board of directors always had a few people from the staff sitting in the audience to help gather momentum.
“I can’t forgive you,” he said in false indignation and lifted his hand against the forthcoming onslaught of surprise and humiliation. “I can’t forgive you because there is nothing to forgive. It’s not you I am ashamed of. It’s me.”
“No,” shouted one of the Apostles behind him. Abraham wasn’t sure the man shouted because he was shocked at the statement or because Abraham was off script. He rushed on before anyone else could interrupt. “When the Almighty sent this plague down from the heavens, I was afraid. I was afraid because, like you, I didn’t want to die, at least not before we bring the American people back to God.” Abraham began to pace. “I was afraid because we were so close to bringing down Babylon, or as some of us prefer to call it, Washington, that I could taste it. In case you’re wondering, it tastes like chicken.”
That got him a few laughs.
“I was afraid, but now I know most of us will survive this. Most of us in this room will live to see all that we wanted, come to pass. We shall soon see a government by the people, for the people ascend to power and turn this nation back into the Christian nation our founders always intended it to be. Ladies and gentlemen, Babylon is falling, and most of us are going to be here to pick up the pieces.”
“How do you know this?” someone shouted.
“Just a few moments ago, while I was listening to Brother Holland introduce me, I felt terror grip my heart. I felt like running. How could I set aside your fears when I was afraid myself? In my fear, I knelt, lifted my hands to the heavens in prayer, and cried out to God. You might have even heard me.” He smiled. “I tried to be respectful of Brother Holland, but emotions overwhelmed me. With my hands raised, I begged God to let his Angel of Death pass over His faithful so we could continue His good works.”
“Praise God,” someone yelled.
Abraham’s voice lowered to a whisper. “Just as I was about to give up in despair, the Lord spoke to me.” Abraham observed that a few people were now standing up. Amen, praise God, and praise Jesus came from many mouths.
“I heard the voice of God,” he shouted, beginning to cry again. Abraham was a true showman. He knew how to cry when needed, but this time, the tears were real. “And my cries were but a whisper to the voice that filled my heart and mind. When He finished, I believed he spoke to me for hours. That’s why I rushed out to the stage. I thought I was late. But like Scrooge, it was all done in but a few precious moments. However, in those seconds, he revealed to me His plan.”
Several people in the crowd fell to their knees.
“Give us the Word of God,” someone shouted, followed by others. “Tell us. Give us His Word.”
“God’s voice said unto me, ‘Abraham, fear not. If you and your people obey the Lord thy God and follow all the commands I give you today, the Lord thy God will set you and your people high above all the nations of the world. Blessings will come upon you if you but obey the Lord thy God. If you do not carefully obey what the Lord thy God has set before you, the plagues of the Pharaoh will be visited upon you, and you will never rest in the House of the Lord.’
“If I was fearful before, I was terrified now, and I prostrated myself before His glory. I told him you have but to command me and I shall obey. His voice, full of love, said unto me, ‘Fear not Abraham, for the hand of the Lord thy God shall take only those of your flock that have sinned against me. The faithful shall live to witness the coming of the Lord.” Abraham fell to his knees.
“To pr
ove your faithfulness to Him, He wants each of us to dress in sackcloth and seclude ourselves from contact with the outside world. We must fast and pray and have contact with no one. The Lord said to me, ‘When the Angel of Death has passed, you will gather your flock and establish a beacon on the hill so that all who follow and believe in the Lord thy God can come and worship. If you do as your Lord thy God commands, the fruit of your womb will be blessed, the crops and livestock of your land will be sanctified, and those who rise against you will flee.’
“I came to myself then and immediately came out here to give you His Words.” When he looked up, everyone was on their feet and raising their hands to the heavens. Some were crying, others laughing in joy.
“What does it mean?” Brother Thomas asked from the table behind him. He was as captured by the performance as the audience.
“Yes, what does it mean?” others shouted.
“He wants us to establish a church,” someone shouted.
“A church?” Abraham said, getting to his feet. “Nay. It’s not a church God wants us to create. He wants us to create a holy city followed by a holy country and a holy world.”
“I don’t understand,” a woman asked.
“Over three hundred years ago, John Winthrop, my forefather, set sail from England aboard the Arabella. When the Puritans left England, it was not to escape religious persecution as some would have you believe. They left because they were looking to set a religious example for England, who they feared was lost to God. Their goal was to establish a holy city. This holy city was to become a beacon of religious virtue for others to emulate and follow. This city upon the hill in the New World was supposed to grow into a great religious nation, but somewhere, the descendants of these noble men and women lost their way.”
“How did they lose their way?” one of the leaders behind him asked. Abraham turned and faced the Apostles. They may not have been happy with him going off script, but they recognized the effect he was having and decided to work with him.
“I’m glad you asked Brother Leroy.” He turned back to the audience. “Another lie taught is that the Puritans came to the New World seeking religious freedom. Hogwash. The Puritans were fanatical in their desire to keep their colony purified of heretical influences. When Philip Ratcliffe was accused of scandalous and foul invectives against the Puritans, he was banished from the colony, but not before being whipped and his ears cut off. They hung Quakers that tried to infect the colony with their filth. In this way, Winthrop kept the settlement pure. Under his leadership, God showed His favor by sending a plague to kill off the Godless natives.
“The Puritans would have continued to prosper had they kept to God’s path. But because they did not, God withdrew his favor and plagued the United States with homosexuals, pedophiles, beast lovers, and blacks. But, all that changes . . . now.” Abraham began his crescendo. He had them.
“There is one last message from God. Though some of you are doomed to leave this world, you can still find your way into the heavens through redemption. If you come down with this killing fire, you must go out into the world and spread it. Only by that act can you find redemption from the Lord. Only then will you get to rest in His house.
“So, I tell you now, put away your fear as I have. God has sent this plague as a favor to us, his faithful, so we can purify the world and re-establish the United States as the Christian nation it was always meant to be. When the Angel of Death finishes the purification, we shall come back together here and declare ourselves the true government of the New United States of America, based on the original Constitution of the Founders. Only then will God lead us to the Promised Land where we will establish our holy city, our city . . . Upon . . . The . . . Hill, our beacon of world hope. Can I get an Amen?” he shouted.
The entire congregation rose, threw off their surgical masks and screamed his name over and over.
CHAPTER 14
For the next several days, Danica remained cooped up in her house taking the antibiotics her parents had stored in a large basement floor safe alongside weapons, ammunition and an odd assortment of survival gear. There were also three cases of MREs. While she wouldn’t categorize her parents as hardcore preppers, they believed in having an extensive emergency kit.
As children, both were survivors of major disasters, which made them psychologically predisposed toward preparation. However, where serious preppers prepared to last several years without a functioning society, her parents’ supply was designed to last only long enough for power to be restored and stores to get up and running again.
Since dropping off her brother, she had not heard from her parents. She tried to call her aunt and uncle in Maine to see how they fared, but it either went straight to voicemail or to an “All circuits busy” recording. She walked next door several times to talk with Erica, and even though she continued to apologize for leaving Matthew home alone, Erica rebuffed her attempts to go inside. Danica finally gave up. Erica would eventually forgive her, or she wouldn’t.
When she wasn’t eating or sleeping, Danica watched the news. When reports of the outbreak first surfaced, television was overflowing with on-scene reporters eager to make a name for themselves. As both the plague and violence escalated, on-scene reporting became almost non-existent, especially as they were becoming as much a part of the story as the plague.
“People living under a death sentence no longer fear the law,” one news expert said via phone. In a testament to the expert’s analysis, in one of the most poignant and last live interviews Danica watched, a pudgy middle-aged African-American reporter asked a Chicago inner-city youth what he thought of the death and violence around him.
“Welcome to my world, motherfuckers,” the boy replied. He left carrying a handful of goods acquired from the nearby drugstore. News organizations gave up trying to censor violence and offending language. There wasn’t enough production crew remaining to do the job properly, so they just stopped trying, no longer fearing FCC ramifications.
After live on-scene reporting grew scarce, major news networks turned to unconventional methods for their coverage. Cameras set up in cities and towns to provide scenic city views, or local traffic reports became new sources of information. Cameras on tall buildings often showed stark city contrasts. On one camera, it showed an eerie, lonely scene of an empty street where nothing moved but loose trash and abandoned animals. On another, it showed looters turned rioters in their search for medicine, answers and HD televisions, clashing with National Guardsmen and law enforcement officials clad in chemical weapons gear.
The news also reported the rumor that South Dakota Republican Representative Marion White would soon be sworn in as vice president. Nobel Prize-winning presidential historian Alfred Nunez said through coughing fits that if the rumors proved true, it would be the first time since the presidency of Abraham Lincoln that there would be a “mixed marriage, so to speak.”
“Back then, it was a Republican president and a Democratic vice president,” Nunez said.
The political analysts that followed the interview seized on the comparison to illustrate the danger the plague represented.
“Not since the Civil War has America faced as dire a situation as that presented by the plague,” one analyst said. They also dissected the video of the president declaring martial law.
“I don’t make this decision lightly,” Dixon said. “But things have deteriorated to the point where it has become necessary. As of this moment, a curfew is in effect. From 7:00 PM until 8:00 AM, anyone caught outside risks being arrested or shot. Even after the curfew is lifted, if you don’t have an urgent need to be outside your home, stay inside.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I know this is a terrifying time, but please remain calm. With God’s help, we will get through this.” Dixon pointed his finger at the camera. “For those of you attempting to take advantage of this situation, I promise you this; you will be brought to justice. Mark my words; you will feel the full force of the law come down upon y
our head. You’d better hope the plague gets you because if I get a hold of you, you’ll wish it had.”
Political analysts put their own spin on his speech. While many hailed the move as a triumph of political strategy, others were painting President Dixon and Congressmen White as traitors.
“Marion White should be expelled from the party,” one conservative anchor suggested.
“We’re not even sure he’s accepted yet,” someone else said.
“Do you think—?”
Danica finally became bored and tried to find something else to watch, but there was only news.
“Great,” she said, her voice a little raspy. “It’s the end of the world, and there’s still nothing worth watching on TV.” She turned off the television and tossed the remote to the floor.
When she heard the sounds of sirens in the distance, she decided to drive around and see for herself what was happening. Having gotten away with the deception once, she would go out dressed as a highway patrol officer again. If nothing else, it might deter people from bothering her.
As she headed for the door, she was hit by a sudden dull ache in her temples. Throwing down two aspirin, it wasn’t until she started to wash them down with a glass of water that she understood the full implication of the headache.
“Oh shit,” she said as the glass slipped from her fingers, shattering on the floor. She sank to the floor in shock at the realization that with only a ten percent survival rate, she was now facing her own mortality.
“Fuck you, God!” she screamed as she buried her head in her hands. “I’m just seventeen, you son of a bitch. And you wonder why I don’t believe in you. How can I believe in someone that would let this happen? Not just me, but to the millions of children here on Earth. I swear to you, if someone tells me this is God’s will, I will shoot them in their fucking face.”
