by Wm. Barnard
I paused because I really wanted them to think about what I would say next. “The problem with Christians is that they take authority as the truth rather than the truth as the authority.”
He stood up, now clearly agitated. “Look, Zach. We didn’t come over here to get into a spiritual debate with you. Your sister implicitly told me not to ever bring it up. But let me break it down for you.”
“Jason…” Vanessa said, grabbing his arm.
“Vanessa, let me finish,” he said without looking at her. “I care about you, Zach – but I don’t care what you think about me. If I brought all the evidence in the world that supports what we believe in, it wouldn’t make any difference to you. This isn’t a matter of intellect; it’s a matter of the heart. Your heart is cold to God and if you keep heading down this path, you will end up in Hell.”
“That’s hell-arious, Jason. How can religion reform me when it’s the biggest form of slavery there is!”
Jason shrugged his shoulders, let out a big sigh and walked to the edge of the patio.
“Zach…” Vanessa said, trying to calm me down.
“And Vanessa, I really love how you’ve worked on brainwashing Johnny the last few weeks.”
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, our friend Pam that you met at my house stopped coming to church because of your story.”
“You mean she started thinking for herself? Well, hallelujah!”
Vanessa shook her head, her face now reddening as I continued.
“Unlike Johnny. No need for anyone to try to talk logically to him now because all you get is, ‘well, the Bible says this and the Bible says that.’ Just like a freakin’ robot.”
“Maybe you should stop to listen to what he has learned,” she said.
“Come on! You have no idea how much that infuriates me. You guys act like I’m the one who is blind here when you don’t even see how much damage believing in this little myth has caused to your own psyche. I mean, how much more do I have to dumb it down for you…” I immediately regretted phrasing it like that as I saw Vanessa’s eyebrows furrow.
“Nice, Zach. Thanks for a great evening!” she shouted and stood up. Turning around curtly, she walked out to the car with Jason.
I gradually pushed my pride aside and lumbered out of my chair to catch up to them before they could leave. Coming around the corner of my garage, I winced, realizing it was too late to yell out a warning as I watched Jason’s car shoot up my driveway backwards. Anticipating that his car would bottom out on the awkward curb at the crest, my whole body tensed up right before I heard the crunch of metal grinding against concrete.
Gritting my teeth, I hated knowing it was my fault for turning our conversation into a full-blown argument. Disappointed that I had become overly zealous to prove my point, I couldn’t understand why after thirty-three years I still insisted on cramming my boots into my big mouth. Even though I knew I was right, I walked back into the house, regretting that I had attacked their intelligence and ruining what had been a perfectly pleasant evening.
As I passed through the dining room, for some strange reason I paused to look in a mirror, remembering something my mom told me in high school. After I had complained to her about a friend who complained all the time, she told me to sit down at the kitchen table with her. Looking at me gently, she smiled and said, “Many times, the things other people do that we hate the most are actually the same things we do.”
Only as I stared at my reflection in the mirror did it become clear to me. While I despised it when others lacked tolerance, I, too, was guilty of intolerance. Just as nobody enjoys hearing a recording of their own voice, I certainly didn’t like this realization about myself, but mother’s words had given me a much needed dose of humility. As I moved into the living room and sat down on my couch, I began thinking about ways I could make it up to Jason and Vanessa.
I INTENDED CALLING VANESSA THE next morning, but soon became sidetracked. My accountant called, saying I should expect to get audited by the IRS soon and instructing me on how to get prepared. Never known for my organizational skills, I took several days digging through unpacked boxes in my garage to find some of the required paperwork.
Later that week, an emergency phone call from the Colorado State campus hospital had me driving Sterling to the airport to catch a red-eye flight as his son had come down with a severe case of pneumonia. While I naturally hoped his son’s condition would improve, I also hoped Sterling could return soon as we were close to finishing the fourth draft of the screenplay.
His departure at least provided the free time I needed to finally reach out to Vanessa. Not only wanting to apologize, I decided to make amends by paying for their entire wedding as an expression that I would embrace Jason as my brother-in-law.
My call from around lunchtime went unanswered, but I did receive a short text message stating she would be home around six o’clock. She sent a second text saying it was important that I contact Johnny A.S.A.P.
Left guessing as to what was so important, I walked out to the patio and called Johnny.
“Hey Zach, I was just about to call you. How are you doing?” he said in a raspy voice.
“Doing well. You sound a little under the weather.”
“Yeah, I got some bad news. I haven’t been feeling too good since we last talked. I’ve had a real bad sore throat and thought it was because it was getting cooler and I left the window open. But after about two weeks of having zero energy I got some tests run.” He paused and let out a short breath. “I just found out my cancer’s back.”
I took a step back and sunk into a patio chair.
“I’m at a loss for words, buddy,” I said.
“The doctor’s waiting for the other results that will come back tomorrow and we’ll know if it has spread to my lymph nodes.”
Thinking of the place where Johnny got cured the first time, I quickly asked, “Can you get back down to that clinic in Tijuana again for some treatment?”
“Not likely to help if it’s spread. But we’ll start talking treatment options after tomorrow.”
Starting to feel desperate, I said, “As soon as you find out tomorrow, call me. Let’s get you to the best specialists in the country. I’ll cover all of your medical expenses.”
“Thanks, Zach.”
I stood up as my mind began racing. “We’re gonna fight this thing together. You can move in down here with me if you need. I got plenty of room. Scripps clinic is right down the street…”
Trying to slow me down, Johnny said, “Okay. I appreciate that. I just want you to know that I’m good.”
“I know that. You’re a fighter. You beat this before and you’ll beat it again.”
“Well, I definitely hope so. But what I’m trying to say is that I’m good either way. I’m okay with dying now, Zach.”
“Johnny, seriously – don’t talk like that.”
“But I am serious. I know where I’m headed when I die so I’m good. Okay?”
His nonchalant tone had me completely rattled.
“But there’s something else I wanted to talk to you about.” Johnny continued. “Vanessa told me about the huge argument you guys got into. She admitted to me that she’s still pretty angry about the way you treated her.”
“Yeah, I’m actually headed over there when she gets off work to talk.”
“Good. I was just gonna say that you shouldn’t take her for granted. You’re lucky to have a sister like that. Anyway, I know you guys will work it out.”
“You’re right. It’s been on my mind for a week now. I just let the wine get the best of me that night.”
“Another reason I don’t miss alcohol.” He chuckled. “Look, I’m gonna lay down and rest, but I’ll call you when I get back from the doctor tomorrow.”
“Definitely do.”
“Okay. Have a blessed day.”
“You, too.”
After hanging up, I got the weird impression that I was more concerned about Johnny than he
was. While I was stunned by the news of his cancer returning, it was his calm response that had blown me away. It simply didn’t make any sense how he could maintain such a peace about him while facing the biggest storm of his life.
WANTING TO MAKE MYSELF FAMILIAR with what Johnny would be facing and maybe even give him some other options, I spent the rest of the afternoon devoted to searching the internet for the top rated Oncologists, types of different treatment, and survival percentages for those coming out of remissions. As I suspected, two of the best head and neck cancer specialists in the world worked out of Scripps hospital in La Jolla.
Emotionally drained by the end of day, I wanted more than ever to see Vanessa and texted her that I was on my way over. Only seconds after making my ascent up a steep freeway exit ramp near her house, I glanced down at the rush hour traffic and witnessed the largest pileup in history unfold. The whole world around me slammed into first gear as I tapped on the brakes and watched in horror at the endless line of twisted metal and shattered glass. As far as I could see, the entire highway had screeched to a complete standstill. The once constant hum of speeding vehicles had been replaced with the unnerving sound of relentless horns. An eerie cloud of black and gray smoke had consumed the airspace over the freeway, filling it with the sickening stench of burnt rubber.
Nearing the off ramp stop light, I merged right onto Mission Avenida and passed at least twenty more cars that had crashed along the street. While most had collided into other vehicles, one car had plowed over a small concrete barrier and through the large glass window panes of a boutique shop that lined the street.
Beyond baffled, I kept driving straight ahead in a state of shock. It didn’t even cross my mind to stop and help anyone until an idle car in the middle of the intersection forced me to pull over. Getting out tentatively, I approached the vacant car from the passenger side. I noticed an empty infant car seat in the back with a diaper sitting in it before my eyes darted up front. An open purse and what appeared to be an extra set of clothes lay on the front seat. With the motor still running, I grabbed the door handle only to find it locked. I jogged around to the driver side to open it so I could turn off the ignition, but discovered that all the doors were locked.
Across the intersection, other drivers stood by their vehicles looking at me as if waiting for an answer. I turned my palms upward, shrugging my shoulders to signal that I had no idea what had happened. A blur of emergency busses began honking as they rushed toward us so I jumped back in my truck, driving up on the sidewalk and around the car to get out of the way.
Detecting something extraordinary was taking place, I quickly speculated that maybe terrorists had launched a cyber-attack, wreaking havoc on our electrical and computer infrastructures; even more chilling, what if they had possibly released a chemical gas into the air that so far was only affecting certain people. Realizing I was grasping for straws, I scanned through the channels of my radio, but heard no updates except about the massive traffic jams across the city.
As I continued going through a number of disturbing scenarios, an alarming thought ran through my mind: What if this is the day The Ancestors were removing parts of the population?
I hit the gas, driving as fast as I could to Vanessa’s.
Only a couple of minutes later, I came upon a small pickup that had crashed head-on into a large oak tree across the street from her house. From the demolished front end and fractured windshield, I became concerned about the driver’s possible injuries. Parking across the street, I jogged over to the truck, but with no traces of the driver or passengers, I impulsively ran up my sister’s driveway.
Banging on the front door and yelling her name, I didn’t hear anything to indicate that she was inside. Back behind the house, her new Honda Civic sat with the windows rolled down so I knew she had to be home. Finding the back porch door unlocked, I flung it open and shouted, “Vanessa, where are you?”
Not waiting for an answer, I walked right through her house onto the front patio, continuing to yell her name. With no response from her, I moved out toward the sidewalk to see if she had possibly walked down the street.
The sound of parents shouting their kids’ names, pleading with them to return home made my heart jump and I sprinted up a few random blocks, frantically hunting for any sign of my sister. My hapless search led me back to the edge of Vanessa’s front yard where a middle-aged lady ran up and grabbed me by the arm.
“My baby! Someone’s stolen my baby!” she gasped.
Before I could attempt to reply, she turned and ran to another house across the street, screaming the whole way.
“Oh jeez…” I babbled.
Remembering now I hadn’t attempted calling Vanessa’s cell phone, I speed dialed her number and a chirping ringtone led me back inside to her kitchen. My shoulders slumped when I discovered the phone on top of the microwave next to her car keys.
Where is she? I thought.
Footsteps shuffling along the front patio caused a jolt of hope to shoot through my heart.
“Vanessa?” I yelled before an elderly man leaned his head around the half opened door. The man had been Vanessa’s neighbor for several years yet I could never remember his name.
“Do you know where Vanessa is?” I asked, walking quickly toward him.
“They’re gone. Vanessa. My wife. They’re both gone.”
“What do you mean, gone?”
“I was thirty feet from that truck when it wrecked right out front. I hurried over there and looked all around, but the driver vanished. Instead of calling 911, I just panicked and jogged up here to Vanessa’s. But when I couldn’t find her, I ran back inside my place and now my wife’s not in her wheel chair. It was right then I got a bad feeling that it really had happened just like they told me,” he said, looking down with darkened eyes.
“What are you even talking about?”
“I’m pretty certain that Jesus came and took them….”
“That’s ridiculous! How do you know it wasn’t aliens?” I shouted.
“Well, I don’t. But I didn’t see any spaceships. And I do know I’ve been playing a game with God for too long.”
Glaring at him incredulously, I questioned the old man’s sanity and shook my head as I walked past him. As I looked up and down the street one last time to see if I could spot Vanessa, the man yelled at me from behind.
“Look on the TV, you idiot! You’ll see.”
I shut my truck door and rolled up the windows, hoping the solitude of my cab would help me gather my thoughts. As I stared at the floor and chewed on my cuticles, the constant blaring of fire truck horns and ambulance sirens continued to unsettle me. While still hoping to discover that Vanessa had merely been down the street, I had to face the possibility that The Ancestors had taken her away.
If this was indeed what had occurred, why would they take a good person like my sister? This can’t be what happened. I thought.
Starting to feel sick to my stomach, I knew I couldn’t sit there for another second. I cranked the ignition and hastily popped the clutch, causing my wheels to screech before speeding down the street. While having no idea where to go or what to do next, I just knew I needed to get out of that neighborhood.
Expecting the nearby freeways to be completely gridlocked, I flipped my radio back on to see if I could find out which roads were unaffected, but immediately got the emergency broadcast system. I scanned the channels until I heard a report coming from the local CBS affiliate “…no one seems to understand what kind of calamity has hit the west coast of the United States, but it now appears that the incredibly strange events that we have been reporting on are in fact a worldwide phenomenon. We just received reports confirming that airports nationwide are shut down after numerous plane crashes across the country. Freeways and interstates of every major city are at a standstill as countless have apparently abandoned their vehicles. We are struggling to update these reports at this time because our own station, along with our affiliates, has miss
ing personnel and…”
Crack.
The broadcaster’s voice went silent as pieces of my radio now lay scattered along the floor of the truck. From the instant swelling in my right hand, I was convinced that I had just broken the small knuckle. Now fumbling around with my throbbing hand, I struggled to pull my cell phone out of my pants pocket and call Johnny. There seemed to be some kind of problem with the connection because not even his voice mail worked. Putting the phone down, I tried to work my way home through some back streets, but with all the turmoil around the city it took me over three hours to make the twelve mile trek.
The drive home had left me wanting updates so I headed straight for the TV. Non-stop news footage soon bombarded me with a constant collage of carnage, revealing the entire planet had been thrown into complete mayhem. With my arms pressed against my chest, I stood mesmerized by the disturbing images until my legs wobbled and I stumbled back into the couch. Frantic to talk to Bill, I tried called him several times, but there was now obviously a system wide problem with the reception.
Thirty minutes of sensory overload forced me to ultimately retreat back to my bedroom as I desperately needed to establish contact with my guardian Ancestor. Hoping to uncover what had truly transpired, I also wanted some kind of instruction on what to even do next. Patiently waiting for over forty-five minutes, I ended up screaming out loud, “Where are you? Why won’t you answer me?”
As I sat alone on the floor, the cold, dense walls of silence now pressed in from every side, leaving me to wonder if I had been utterly abandoned.
CHAPTER 21
With millions of people unaccounted for, the subsequent anarchy caused governments worldwide to institute Martial Law. In the United States, only military vehicles were allowed on the streets after dusk and the President had suspended all civil laws.
For the first time in history, an overwhelmed news media faced too many tragic events than they could possibly report. Almost an entire week had passed and I still could not come to grips with all the madness that just seemingly grew by the day.
