His hands upraised, the Prior yells “Lord, let us rock for Thee!”
The congregation springs to their feet as a power chord blasts from an electric guitar. The firmament-themed iconostasis behind Weston parts like a curtain to reveal four monks playing the classic instruments of rock ’n’ roll—guitar, bass, drums, and keyboard—as well as a trio of female backup singers. The band kicks into a hard-driving gospel song Ruth vaguely recognizes. As its frontman Prior Weston belts out the lyrics—“Jesus is just alright with me, Jesus is just alright, OHH YEAH!”—green and blue lasers shoot chaotically from the glass sphere above. Somewhere, a fog machine radiates a low-lying mist that billows throughout the chapel.
The Prior swaggers up and down the nave with all the charisma of Jesus Christ Superstar. Sometimes he stops and sings a few verses to Ruth.
Awestruck by the immersive audiovisual experience, Ruth is overcome by tingling intoxicating sensations she has never felt. Had she ever been to a rock concert before, she is certain this still would be the best of them all. She yearns to be Wes’s biggest fan. She yearns to be Wes’s completely.
The congregation stomps its feet on the floor and pumps its fists in the air.
Tugging insistently on the sash of her robe, Floyd again begs Ruth to use the bathroom.
The Prior’s performance and Ruth’s ecstasy drown out his pleas.
Many moments later, she realizes Floyd is no longer standing beside her.
The moment after that, in the middle of a reprise of The Lord Is My Rocket, the sound and lights in the chapel abruptly cut off.
*****
In one swift motion, Ruth snatched the block-and-tackle nautical lamp from Floyd’s bedside table and smashed it across the back of Carla’s head. She crumpled to the floor.
Ruth shrunk against the wall, her breath short and her eyes stinging.
What have I done?, she asked herself.
She did what she had to do.
Ruth shut the bedroom door and returned the lamp to the bedside table. She examined Carla’s body. Her coworker was out cold. There were a few drops of blood on the beige Berber carpet near her head. She checked Carla’s curly brunette hair. There was a moist, matted clump at the base of her skull, though the area didn’t seem to be bleeding profusely.
She had no clue when Carla would regain consciousness, so there was no time to dither. Ruth slid her body across the floor to beside the bed, slipped Floyd’s pillow beneath her head, and covered her with his Star Wars blanket.
“Sorry, dear,” Ruth said, stroking Carla’s cheek. “But God’s call trumps all.”
Ruth brought Floyd’s packed travel bag into the den, setting it down at the threshold of the room. All the residents were gathered around the TV, some watching it, others diverting themselves by other means—Peter running in place, Lizzie drawing a smiling tree (or possibly Kermit the Frog), Rebecca twiddling her fingers in front of her face.
Ruth crossed the den to where Floyd was sitting on the couch. She stooped down to speak into his ear. He shook his head, pointing to the TV screen now showing a black & white science fiction flick with alien robots battling human spacetrotters in skintight outfits.
“I wanna finish the movie,” Floyd said.
Ruth whispered in his ear again. Floyd grinned, nodded, and stood. She steered him to the entry of the room, then addressed the other residents.
“Everyone. May I have your attention please?”
Only Lizzie looked up at her.
Ruth clapped her hands together twice, prompting most of the others to focus on her, except Peter who kept jogging in place. Ruth walked over to him and grasped both his wrists, a gesture that instantly slowed him down.
“Stop that, Peter. You’ll tucker yourself out.”
He froze in place, panting.
“Listen closely everybody,” Ruth said. “Laura will be here at six o’clock. That’s less than one hour from now. Until then, none of you can leave this room, or else she’ll be very, very mad.”
“What if I gotta go potty?” Victor asked. Gregory snickered at this.
“You can leave this room only for that.” Ruth punctuated her words by wagging her index finger. “But you must come straight back here after you’re done. Okay?”
Some nodded. Others repeated “okay.”
“What if we get attacked by bears or lions?” asked Debra.
Everybody looked genuinely worried.
“That will not happen. I promise. No bears or lions or any other ferocious animals are allowed in here.”
This seemed to mollify them.
“Floyd and I must go away for a while. And if you all pray for him really hard, you’ll make him very happy. Right, Floyd?”
“Yeah,” Floyd said. “Pray for me!”
“Where are you going, Floyd?” asked Debra.
“It’s a surprise!” he answered.
“I wanna surprise too,” Gregory said.
The others likewise blurted out their desire for the mystery surprise.
Ruth shushed them. “You’ll each get a surprise when Laura gets here, as long as you all stay in this room like we agreed. Right now, it’s Floyd’s turn for a surprise. So be good ladies and gentlemen, and I know you will all be rewarded.”
Ruth smiled at everyone, who all appeared quite satisfied with her proposal, some barely able to stifle their enthusiasm. She picked up Floyd’s travel bag from the floor, and Floyd fetched his Fisher-Price cassette player from the couch. They then bade the others farewell and headed out. Ruth wondered, with a trace of sadness, if she would ever return.
After getting Floyd settled in the passenger’s seat and stowing his bag in the trunk alongside her own luggage, Ruth hopped in her car and started the engine.
“Jesus loves you, Floyd,” she said. “When you fully understand what that means, you will be ready to join Him in Paradise.”
“Is my surprise ice cream? I want ice cream.”
“Later,” she sighed. “When we’re on our way.”
Ruth, of course, felt remorse for hurting Carla. Such an impulsive, aggressive act was utterly out of character for her. But it could not have been avoided. Hers was a holy mission, decreed by God Himself. And you did not disobey the Lord. He was, above all else, the true boss of her, His policy absolute.
Resolved and renewed in this, her life’s purpose, Ruth pulled out of the driveway and onto the road toward Floyd’s salvation.
*****
“The end of the world is nigh!”
The bright halogen emergency lights had been activated, robbing the chapel of its Space Age spectacle. Abbot Mortimer stands at the pulpit before all Monastery of the Celestial Christ apostles and Ruth. Floyd still hasn’t returned. She first thought he had gotten into something, like a fuse box, but that wasn’t the case. Prior Weston promised her they will search for him after the Abbot’s announcement.
“We knew this day would come,” Abbot Mortimer says. “Abbot Bennigan, the architect of our Order, had prophesied it in 1985, when the Cold War between East and West was thriving. While that tumultuous period had not climaxed in the Armageddon, it did not mean it had been averted. The Book of Revelations foretells fire shall come down from the heavens devastating the Earth, and it appears from all recent media reports that a global war has been initiated. This planet cannot survive our modern weapons and wicked ways.
“Yet we need not perish here, because our brotherhood has readied itself for this eventuality. Today we, along with the sisters of Our Lady of the Empyrean, will journey a great distance, toward the constellation of Leo, on a course calculated by our Founding Brothers. From a predetermined point there, our Lord will shepherd us to a hospitable new world He has been reserving for us since the Creation. There we shall build a civilization based on the everlasting tenets of God the Father, His Son Jesus Christ, and the Holy Spirit.
“I look forward to taking this trip with you and fulfilling our destiny. I ask you now to please assume your flight operation
duties. Brothers, prepare for launch!”
The air crackling with urgency, nearly everyone hurries off. Ruth remains standing where she is, stunned and confused and lost.
“What do I do now?” she asks herself.
“We possess a large spacecraft,” Prior Weston explains to her. “Some rich and powerful allies of ours constructed it for us, as well as the control center underground. They’d trained us how to use and maintain everything. We don’t advertise this, of course. Most of our highest-profile supporters do not even have knowledge of its existence. It’s solely for those who’ve devoted themselves to our doctrines. Others might view it as… eccentric perhaps, equating us to some state-of-the-art cult.”
“I understand. The Lord’s work must endure.”
“Yes, Ruth. And it will. And that is something I need to discuss with you.” He puts his perfectly manicured hand on her shoulder. “You’re here when momentous events have precipitated us to embark on establishing our new settlement. I don’t believe it is mere happenstance.”
“No? What is it?”
“I believe the Lord wants you to join us.”
“You mean… up there?” Ruth lifts her eyebrows. “In space?”
“All the universe is God’s creation. We will be living according to the same principles, but on a different one of His worlds.”
“But how do you know this different world exists?”
“Over the years we’ve done an enormous amount of mathematical computations and astronomical surveys employing the most advanced technology. We already have a good idea where this planet is located. And most importantly, we have faith.”
“It sounds so… scary.”
“It is. And you are free to choose not to go. Though that would be a fatal choice.”
“There must be others more deserving. I imagine seating is limited.”
“The sisters at Our Lady of the Empyrean down the road will play an integral part in repopulating the new world. Nineteen of them are capable of bearing children. Twenty-seven of our brothers are going. That’s forty-six people. The ship holds fifty-two. So we have room for you. But you must decide quickly.”
Ruth’s heart races. “This is all very overwhelming. How can one decide something like this?”
The Prior takes her hands, pressing them to his bosom. “I know you have feelings for me, Ruth. I confess, I feel them for you too. If I may be blunt, I am highly attracted to you. The chemistry we have, it’s undeniable. Ordained. I’d be honored to have you as my partner in the new world. There is no future for us on this one.”
Everything Wes says makes sense, Ruth thinks. There is a reason she is here, now, with him. It was fated to be. Her fear is reasonable too. Yet if she is to uphold her mission, she must have faith as well. And she has to admit, the thought of laying with Wes excites her.
“Okay,” Ruth says, resolute. “Let’s go.”
The Prior beams. “Splendid!”
“I’ll share the blessed news with Floyd when we find him. He’ll be beyond thrilled to be going into space.”
The Prior furrows his brow. “I’m sorry, Ruth. Floyd cannot come.”
“Pardon me?”
“Floyd can’t come with us.”
“Why not? He’s the reason why I came here.”
“I understand that, and I know you must feel an obligation to him. But he would not contribute anything of value to our colony. In fact, he’d taint our gene pool should he even reproduce.”
Thrown for a curve, Ruth hastily rallies to defend her ward.
“It’s not Floyd’s fault he was born the way he is. He’s still one of God’s children, is he not?”
“Yes, he is. But there’s no place for him where we’re going, no part for him in what we need to do. You can see that, Ruth, can’t you?”
“My mission was—is—to save Floyd. What will become of him without me?”
“He’ll be transported to one of our nearby properties by someone who has elected to remain behind. We own a beautiful lakefront resort where there’s no light pollution. Floyd will be able to see all the stars in the sky tonight. Not a bad way to spend what may be his last hours on Earth.”
“I can’t just abandon him.”
“You’re not, Ruth. He will be cared for.”
“This is…” Ruth rakes her fingers over her eyes and down her cheeks. “Horrible.”
“It really isn’t though. Be practical. Armageddon aside, Floyd doesn’t have long to live anyway. Why would you deny yourself the chance to survive?”
“My life’s purpose,” she mutters.
“What did you say?”
“I’m not going, Prior,” she says louder, adamant. “Floyd needs me now more than ever.”
“Ruth, I beg you, please reconsider—”
“I already have. I’m his caregiver. I’m responsible for him. Mine will be the last voice he hears, and God’s the last words.”
The Prior nods, with a slightly crestfallen smile that almost breaks Ruth’s heart.
Not exactly mission accomplished, she concedes to herself. Yet she can live with it, however briefly that may be.
*****
When Ruth and Floyd, toting their baggage, reach Ruth’s car in the monastery parking lot, two gray passenger vans have arrived. Riding in them are a group of young women in midnight blue habits. The sisters from Our Lady of the Empyrean, Ruth presumes. They step off the vehicles and enter the building. Ruth fleetingly wonders which one of them will become Wes’s partner on the new world.
The monks had tracked down Floyd in their kitchen pantry, polishing off a box of Fig Newtons. Floyd apologized to everyone he saw, believing he was in big trouble. Ruth told him it was fine, that he was forgiven. She never knew he liked Fig Newtons.
Ruth drives twenty-three minutes away from the monastery before stopping at a service plaza off the expressway. There were already long lines at the pumps for gas. It took almost half an hour for her to fill up the Kia. She didn’t mind though. She wasn’t in a rush to get anywhere. She wasn’t sure yet where to go.
Prior Weston had offered her and Floyd access to the brotherhood’s lake resort, but that feels a bit awkward to her, an unearned consolation. She’s always wanted to visit the Grand Canyon and the Rocky Mountains, but they are too far away. Floyd asks if they are going home. Ruth ultimately agrees to this. She will willingly suffer whatever the consequences may be for her crimes, and Floyd will be with his friends at the end. This seems the right thing to do all around.
They head inside the convenience store to buy snacks and drinks. Three other customers and the pimply clerk watch the TV mounted above the counter. It’s a local newscast reporting on the current grim state of affairs. Various cities along the West Coast have been struck by intercontinental missiles, massive explosions have destroyed swaths of New York, Boston, and Washington D.C., and the full brunt of the nation’s Armed Forces have been deployed to counter hostilities here and abroad. All over the world, people are praying and panicking and pummeling one another.
“Shit’s goin’ down,” a man in a forest camo jacket says as he bolts out the door. The other two customers begin stocking up on as much foodstuffs, beverages, and medical supplies as they can carry.
On the way back to the car with their Xpress Mart bags, Ruth spots a slim fiery object soaring across the blue sky, trailed by a dense plume of smoke. Ruth reckons it could be the brothers and sisters fleeing the Earth in their spacecraft. She hopes they will find the paradise they seek. She hopes everyone does.
“Look, Floyd.” Ruth points. “A rocketship.”
“Wow.” He gapes at it.
She leads him over to a picnic table. They sit. She gives him a plastic spoon, keeping one for herself, then passes him one of the two chocolate ice cream cups. She considers reading to him from the Bible while they eat, but instead lets him listen to his cassette player. She leaves the book in her handbag.
Together they watch the rocket travel overhead.
“I’m gonna go up there someday,” Floyd says.
“That’ll be nice, Floyd,” answers Ruth. He cannot hear her over his music.
THE BEHOLDER
This morning, one much like any other morning, Alex awakens beneath the shuttered factory’s awning of corrugated steel. He yawns and stretches and wipes the crust from his eyes. Feeling his bladder ready to burst, he scampers for the condemned apartment house nearby and makes his way to its summit by scaling the rusted ironwork of the fire escape.
At the ledge he peers across the rooftops at the sun rising over his city, a sight that never fails to rouse him. He then unzips the fly of his baggy, ragged cargo pants and lets the warm golden fluid flow from him. He watches it cascade in a gentle arc, meeting the ground three floors below. The stream spatters on the cracked concrete, the droplets sparkling in the dawn light.
As the last of it dribbles from him, Alex stares down at his creation and smiles. Another glorious new day has begun for him. Again he has blessed the world with something good, something beautiful. Something he made himself. He is the source of this beauty, and for that he is proud.
Alex climbs down and kneels over the frothy pool. He gazes into it, the bubbles reflecting the gleam in his eyes. Thoroughly contented, he ventures out, his hunger leading him.
Pressing his ear up against the glass of the electronics store, Alex hears the news man on the television in the window say it is Sunday. This makes Alex happy. Saturdays are when his favorite restaurant is the most crowded, often fully booked for dinner. He knows there will be plenty for him today.
Many evenings Alex has spent sitting patiently on the corner across from the eatery, waiting to catch a glimpse inside when its bronze double doors opened. On such occasions, he has seen a wondrous jungle of potted plants within… handsome waiters in crisp black blazers racing back and forth with round silver trays on their shoulders… suspended brass lamps glowing and flickering like candle flames… sweeping gilt-framed paintings of whaling ships and fishing trawlers hanging on the dusky walls.
Everyone Is a Moon Page 9
