What the Hand: A Novel About the End of the World and Beyond

by Stockwell, Todd

  ***

  So why did San Francisco and so many other American cities adopt the insane policies of a Sanctuary City? Because if an illegal alien were to be sent to prison or deported, they wouldn’t be able to vote for the politicians who created the Sanctuary City in the first place.

  ***

  On the day of the Rapture, Joe and Aubrey were sitting on the couch. He loved Aubrey dearly, and his only complaint was that she was always trying to drag him to church. Since his daughter’s murder, Joe didn’t care much for church, religion, or God, for that matter.

  Even so, almost as soon as he observed the popcorn fall onto the carpet from the missing hand of his absent wife, Joe knew what had happened. Some of his wife’s rants about the end of the world must have sunk in. His first instinct was to go next door and check on his adopted family.

  ***

  Danny was busy doing laundry, while Roger listened to loud music in his room, when Joe stormed into their house with barely a knock. Neither had a clue about what had happened. Joe told Danny about his wife’s disappearance and his assumption about the Rapture. They turned on the news to watch the reports of the missing flooding the airwaves. The light of her dysfunctional Baptist upbringing kicked in, and Danny was immediately on the same page as Joe. She dug through her belongings in the boxes she had retrieved from her parents’ farm shortly after their deaths and found her old Bible. As soon as she opened it, she was filled with a sense of peace.

  ***

  While on the Old Earth, Danny would never understand her parents’ lack of affection, but she finally understood the importance of their religious teachings. Now she felt only grateful to know what she knew, letting go a lifetime of pent-up angst.

  ***

  And she began to impart to Joe all the knowledge her parents had given her, filling in the details about the Rapture, the Antichrist, the Mark of the Beast, and the Second Coming.

  They watched the news together for a week straight. The flying saucers, the media and government explanations—none of it influenced Danny or Joe one bit. So they began, just as I had, to formulate an escape plan for the three of them, setting out on weekend forays to reconnoiter the surrounding wilderness for a likely hideout.

  They, too, had decided to wait for the New World Order to require the Mark before actually leaving the city, but a certain NWO policy had prompted her to a more expedient departure, and she began her search for a safer dwelling in earnest.

  ***

  Depopulation had always been on the Illuminati agenda because smaller populations were easier to control, but now with the economic crisis in full swing, they were able to persuade the masses to reevaluate certain unethical solutions such as euthanasia. Following the Nazi model, the NWO began to isolate the sick and very elderly, as well as the insane, mentally challenged, and feeble-minded.

  ***

  Danny received a letter from the NWO’s Department of Human Services requiring her son Roger to report for a medical evaluation. She knew exactly what that meant, and she vowed she would never let Roger be taken from her.

  ***

  Although she and Joe hadn’t been completely satisfied with any of the hideouts they’d thus far scouted, they both agreed to settle on something that coming weekend. This time they would fill her van with supplies, leave them at whatever hideout they chose, and return one last time to settle their affairs.

  However, this was not to be—they would never see their homes, their neighborhood, or even the city again. San Francisco would be leveled during their last reconnaissance.

  ***

  The tornado that hit their city was a nuclear bomb. World War III had begun. Fortunately, they were far enough away from the blast and the fallout, and could only watch, in horror, the brilliant and devastating light.

  ***

  Many months later, Danny, Roger, and Joe were moving again. Their hideout had been too close to civilization. They’d spotted Minions nearly every day and were always afraid. In the middle of the night, they packed their hidden van and slowly pulled onto the highway, driving north until they ran out of gas. Then they gathered what they could carry and ventured onto a trail in the woods, where they would meet the giant, gentle man; the vacant-eyed shell of a man; the kindly, talkative sisters; the once heartless ex-con; and eventually, the man in the cave, hiding behind layers of curtains, but offering food and a temporary home.

  14

  In the years before the Rapture, except for the time I spent with Sophie and Renee, I had, for the most part, become a loner. I preferred it that way because I was in hiding, not from the world, but from my paranoid perception of its reflective and judgmental nature. But being a loner in the regular world and being an absolutely isolated cave dweller are two completely different existences. I had essentially placed myself in solitary confinement, and I was slowly going mad.

  ***

  By the time Danny’s party came along, I was having regular and disturbing conversations with myself. The only thing separating me from complete madness was my awareness of the insanity of the conversations, but even that was growing thin. And so, when my new friends arrived, I was immediately grateful for the company, and within a few days, the curtain of madness lifted, and I was again my relatively normal self.

  But that first night, sitting across a low fire, listening intently to their experiences on the road, I was clinging to sanity and shocked at being in the company of human beings. I could not keep my eyes off Danny, who seemed more relaxed and in charge than any of the others. She spoke of nuclear destruction, starving on the road, and hiding for their lives from the Minions as if it were another day at work. She was beautiful, tough and smart, and soon I decided I was falling in love with her.

  ***

  Danny, of course, was not my first crush, just my last. I thought I loved quite a few girls during my days on the Old Earth, but I knew nothing about romantic love, until I looked it up at the Hall of Knowledge. What did I find out? There was no such thing.

  ***

  People on the Old Earth were always saying stuff like, “I’m crazy about her,” or “I’m madly in love with him.” There was madness and there was love, but they had nothing whatsoever to do with each other. Real love was about unselfishness, compassion, and genuine affection. What people on the Old Earth referred to as romantic love was the exact opposite: it was about ego, lust, selfishness, and jealousy.

  ***

  All told, I was a hopeless romantic on the Old Earth, bringing misery to myself and most of the girls I met as well. My first crush was a kewpie doll looking thing in second grade named Lilly, whom I pined over for about two weeks, which was about a century and a half to a seven-year-old. In the fifth grade, it was the blonde and striking Claire Grant. She looked like a miniature Grace Kelly, and her name even sounded like it belonged to a movie star. Since I wasn’t yet smart enough to keep my mouth shut about my feelings toward girls, I told Claire I liked her. Well, I didn’t tell her—I had one of my friends do it. And she was gracious and pretty nice about it, too, or so I thought, smiling and ignoring me and all. What I didn’t know was that most of the other boys at the elementary school had already professed their devotions to her, so I was hurt when she began holding hands with a popular sixth grader, one of these guys already shaving or something.

  ***

  That little bit of pain didn’t stop me from confessing my adoration again. No, it was the next vixen that shut me up like a snitch in a trunk. Now I know it doesn’t mean anything, but Tracey Shawn had red hair, and she was the first girl I liked with noticeable breasts, which scared me for some reason. She sat across from me in sixth period math during my first semester of junior high school. I made her laugh with my smart-alecky comments about the teacher and some of the students, and I guess she thought I was sort of cool because of that.

  Since she had gone to a different elementary school, she had no idea who I was. Junior high school was great that way, a chance to reinvent oneself, or so I tho
ught. After I told her I liked her, we began hanging out after school outside the classroom, holding hands and pecking at each other. Our relationship lasted four days.

  That fourth day, I saw her at lunch talking to Tory Zane, the same kid who had karate-chopped me and knocked me on my behind at the drinking fountain back in the fourth grade. I learned later that he liked her and told her the complete and embarrassing history of my years at West Hills Elementary, just so he could put a wrench in our relationship. Tory told her about all the times I got my butt kicked, and about the time I cried in class over a grade, and the time my dad shaved my head, so I ditched school because I was too embarrassed to show up, and the time I had diarrhea and didn’t quite make it out of class, and on and on.

  It worked. That very afternoon, she made this humiliating and heart wrenching breakup announcement in front of the whole class: “I don’t hang out with crybaby losers who crap their pants.” I didn’t even blame her.

  ***

  I was afraid to talk to a girl for a long time after that. But that silence was probably the reason I landed my first date, or it might just have been that Hope Picas was unusually aggressive for a fourteen-year-old.

  Hope was popular and used to attention, so I guess it bothered her that I never said a word. She sat next to me in art class, refusing to leave me alone until I spoke to her, and then wouldn’t stop bugging me until I agreed to take her to the movies.

  My mom dropped me off at the theater where Hope met me on a Saturday afternoon. I took her to a couple of seats at the back corner of the theater because that was where I’d seen older couples sitting before. It was kind of awkward because the movie had been out for a while and the theater was pretty much empty. But Hope didn’t seem to mind, so there we sat with better seats everywhere. She was sort of leaning on me, eating a big barrel of popcorn and sucking on a giant soda, while I fidgeted in my seat, too nervous to eat or drink even.

  ***

  Food and drink portions had steadily grown to obscene dimensions on the Old Earth, especially in America, where the obesity rate was staggering. A few people were even too large to fit through their own front doors and had to have walls removed just so they could be taken to hospitals. Even giant toddlers and huge little kids were seen everywhere. They were cute and all because you wanted to squeeze their cheeks, but the poor things were ridiculously unhealthy.

  The problem was that most food and drink products were crammed with fat and sugar by manufacturing companies so people would become addicted to the bad food. It turns out the Illuminati had been behind the whole thing. They figured obese people would be less likely to rebel against their drive for one-world government and would be first in line to accept the Mark of the Beast, so they could continue eating their pizzas and cheeseburgers and whatnot. They were right.

  It was also an Illuminati idea to give junk food big names like Jumbo Dog, Grande Burrito, Big Sip, Mega-Fries, Monster Burger, and the like. This fooled people into thinking they were getting some kind of great deal. Americans loved a bargain even if it caused obesity, diabetes, clogged arteries, high cholesterol, heart attacks, and early death.

  When doctors and other health advocates began complaining about the obesity levels and the practices of the large food companies pushing the crappy food, the Illuminati changed their strategy. They had their scientists come up with chemicals that mirrored sugars and fats but weren’t full of calories. The next thing you knew, everything was diet this and low calorie that, slim this and skinny that, and on and on.

  So everybody became thin again? Nope. The Illuminati had pulled another fast one. The chemicals in these diet products were more addictive than real fats and sugars, so even though they were lower in calories, they boosted craving levels so the people using these products would eat twice as much food, bringing them right back to where they were before they went on the stupid diet.

  But the real genius of the Illuminati plan was that even skinny people began using these addictive low calorie products, and so they began adding excess fat as well. And as an added bonus, these FDA approved chemicals caused digestion problems, infections, cancer, immune disorders, and all manner of previously unknown syndromes.

  ***

  Hope Picas was making me more nervous because she wasn’t watching the movie while she worked on her jumbo popcorn. She was looking at me. And I was more than a little annoyed because the movie was starting to get good. But there she was, staring at me and chomping on that big popcorn during all the best parts. Finally, she said what was on her mind: “Are you gonna kiss me or what?”

  I looked over and even in the dark I could see she had little pieces of popcorn stuck to the butter on her lips. And still, I got up the nerve to kiss her, except she was way ahead of me, moving her lips and tongue all over my mouth and cheeks and nose and everywhere else. I wasn’t enjoying any of it because I had butter and salvia and tiny chunks of popcorn all over my face, and all I could think about was washing my face the whole time and maybe finishing the movie.

  ***

  She called me the next day, but I was so uncomfortable and embarrassed about the whole thing I could barely speak. I think she got the message because a couple days later I saw her at school making out with this big, tough Italian kid who was the only kid who owned a leather jacket not made of plastic. Plus, he greased his hair back like this supposedly cool TV guy, Fonzie, who also wore a leather jacket on a show they called Happy Days because everyone was so happy it was still the 1950s, instead of later when everything went to crap. And the Italian kid didn’t even get laughed at or anything because he was so big and scary and all.

  ***

  I didn’t have a date or kiss a girl for about four years after that. My friends were already having sex or something close to it, or lying about it at least, but I was already seventeen and a senior, and the prom was coming and all I had managed was to follow a few sophomore girls around the school, trying to gather enough courage to ask them out.

  The worst part about it was the constant questions and comments from my parents: “Did you get your tickets for the prom yet? Who are you taking? What about that girl from junior high? I’ll ask so and so if her daughter is available. You’re such a good-looking boy. Both your brothers went to the prom…why don’t you want to go?” And on and on. It was hopeless, though, so I just told myself and anybody who would listen that I didn’t want to go because I hated everybody in my class anyway. I don’t think they bought it.

  ***

  After the prom and hearing about everybody’s wonderful experiences with the cheesy suits and bad food, I was completely depressed and determined to change things in the romance department. To accomplish this, my adolescent brain told me I needed experience. My solution was to find a prostitute. So I stole eighty bucks from the gas station where I worked and headed to the only place I was sure I’d find one: the infamous corner of Hollywood and Vine, known worldwide through movies and television as the mecca of streetwalking in America.

  ***

  The next thing you know, I’m driving up and down Hollywood Boulevard near the Vine Street intersection, unable to spot a single woman who didn’t appear to be homeless, let alone the smorgasbord of tall, beautiful young women I had pictured.

  I used the family station wagon for this adventure, which was way past its prime, having been handed to me by my brother Geoff, who got it from our older brother Gerry, who got it from my father, in such bad shape it could only be started by crawling underneath and applying a screwdriver to the starter motor. This monstrosity had once been green with wood panels, but was then painted bright yellow because that was the cheapest paint available at the time, so I was lucky not to have been spotted and pulled over after all the illegal U-turns I made that day in the great banana.

  ***

  No, I couldn’t find prostitute one. I even branched out to both ends of the long iconic boulevard, but it made no difference. The truth was, there hadn’t been a prostitute on Hollywood or Vine for
nearly twenty years because if a dumb teenager knew its reputation so did the police, who shut it down long before it ever became legend or myth.

  I finally gave up and headed home, only I got lost and ended up on Sunset Boulevard, which hadn’t yet become a legend for such things but was well on its way.

  They weren’t exactly beauty queens or remotely anything from my unrealistic fantasies—but there they were, at least ten or fifteen prostitutes, walking and sitting and smoking and waving, so that even a dumb teenager could tell what they were up to.

  ***

  Jesus befriended and saved the prostitute Mary Magdalene, who had embraced His teachings. He didn’t approve of prostitution or anything; He just preferred to hang around genuine people, especially known sinners open to change, as opposed to pompous, self-righteous, religious types like the Pharisees and such.

  Later, some misguided writers and filmmakers speculated that Jesus and Mary Magdalene were more than friends, even suggesting they had been married and had children together, or some such nonsense. I don’t know, maybe He had something a little more important to do than dating, like saving mankind.

  One of these movies, based on a bestselling book, was about a world famous American code breaker who is called to investigate some crazy murder at the Louvre Museum in France. I guess because there weren’t any homicide detectives available that day. This dead body is lying right under the Mona Lisa, and it turns out the famous Di Vinci painting of a smirking woman is hiding the secret that Mary Magdalene had Christ’s children and this murdered guy knew all about it.