by Tom Reinhart
“Not safe? What do you mean?” asked Joe in his usual tone.
“See the ashes on the pews, on the floor?” answered the priest, pointing to several areas around the church. “God’s Judges have been in here once already.”
We had all seen the piles of ash scattered around the interior of the church; dozens of them. Steve moved closer to the priest. “Judges? What do you mean Judges? The angels? What are they?”
The priest looked us over, and then sat in the closest pew. He leaned back heavily, almost slumping in the seat. He looked tired, defeated. “Your ‘angels’” he began, “they are Judges, the soldiers of God, sent to pass judgment upon all mankind. This is the time that marks the return of Christ. The end of days, Revelations, judgment day; call it whatever you want, but it’s here. Believers are granted entrance into Heaven, and the rest, I assume, are condemned to Hell.”
Joe wiped holy water from his chin as he spoke. “Yeah, well, religious rhetoric aside, what happened in here? Why aren’t you a pile of ash?”
Father Donavan rose to his feet before he answered. Standing in the middle of the aisle facing the large crucifix at the back of the room, he bowed his head and made a cross on himself, touching in sequence his shoulders, head and heart. “Forgive me father,” he whispered, before turning to face Joe. There was pain in his face as he spoke. “I am a hypocrite, and a coward.”
Margie stepped forward in a gesture that seemed intended to comfort him. “Why do you say that?”
“These were my people, my congregation. They came to me in their time of need, afraid, seeking answers, seeking comfort. I stood up here upon the pulpit, and I preached to them to accept the Lord and to accept his plan, to not be afraid. When the Judges came, most stood and submitted to their judging willingly even though they were terrified. One by one I watched them die. I watched fathers turned to ash in front of their children. I watched babies taken from their mother’s arms. And when my turn neared, I became afraid. I panicked, and I hid. I told them to do what I myself could not. I failed them, and I have failed my faith.”
“Religious crap aside man,” blurted Joe, “You’re human. Surviving, that’s what people do. Where are the Judges? Is it safe in here or not?”
“They are gone. But nowhere is safe. Do you think you could hide from the almighty father?”
“We’re doing alright so far,” answered Joe, returning to the fountain for another drink of water. Margie, her upbringing having been steeped in Catholicism, was trying to comfort the priest. They sat together, whispering to each other. It made me uncomfortable.
“Father,” I asked as I approached them, “There are people out there that should've been killed, but they're still alive. Why aren't they dying?”
Father Donovan wiped a tear from his face and seemed to sigh heavily before he spoke. “It was foretold in the bible, 'those that sleep in the dust of the earth shall rise up to be judged’. In Revelations 9:6, it says “And in those days people will seek death and will not find it. They will long to die, but death will flee from them.” On this day all of mankind shall be judged, and no person's soul can leave their body until that judgment is made. The living cannot rest until they have been judged, and those that have been dead, must awaken now to receive their judgment.”
Joe returned from the fountain, holy water leaving little wet spots in the ash on the front of his shirt. “Hold on Padre. So you're telling me everybody that's ever died, their souls never left their body? People never went to Heaven or Hell. They just stayed here, until now? Until they could be judged?”
Father Donovan avoided eye contact with Joe, instead looking at me while he spoke. It felt odd, like somehow he was comfortable with me even though we didn’t know each other. “Based on the biblical verses, and what I see happening now, that is my interpretation, yes.”
Joe was quick to respond. “That's fucked up. So, what about some guy who died a thousand years ago, and his body is completely gone, what about that?”
Father Donovan began slowly walking up the aisle towards the back of the room. “I don't claim to know all of the ways God works. But perhaps those are the ghosts people claim to see; souls without a body, waiting to be judged. It's certainly a fitting explanation.”
Steve sat on the pew next to Margie, and looking down at the floor spoke a realization with a cracking in his voice that sounded like he was struggling to not cry. “My dad died when I was twelve. So all this time he's been just hanging around? A ghost? Stuck here just waiting for this?”
Father Donovan turned to face us again, and moved closer to Steve as if he were comforting one of his congregation. “I don't know for sure, but if I am to be honest, I think so, yes.”
Joe’s boisterous voice echoed through the large empty room. “That’s bullshit. I've never seen a ghost.”
Margie stood and walked closer to the pulpit, looking up at the crucifix for several moments, and then she turned back towards us. “My grandmother died when I was a little girl. A couple nights later I knew she was in the room with me. I could feel her there. I swear she sat on the bed beside me and rubbed my back.” A tear fell from her eye as she finished.
My question blurted out without conscious thought, there was just so much I didn’t understand and wanted to know. “I saw people jump to their deaths from fifty stories father, and they were still alive. So they can't die until they're judged? So then, we can't die?”
Father Donovan suddenly had a hint of sarcastic smirk on his face. “Oh, you can die. At least your body can. You won't be alive the way we know being alive. The bodies of the dead are merely animated by their souls that are awaiting judgment. It may not seem like dying, but trust me; I doubt you want to be one of them. They are the maledicted, the cursed. No matter what happens to their bodies, they will have to suffer through it until they are judged.”
Jennifer spoke for the first time since entering the church. “Damn...that must've been what was wrong with the guy in the subway tunnel.” We all just looked at each other, the chilling realization of what was occurring creeping up our spines.
Father Donovan told us something else that was even more chilling. “Behind the cathedral is an old, small cemetery. No one has been buried there for years now, but the people that are, you can hear them now. They have awoken. I’ve been listening to them all morning, calling out and clawing at their coffins.”
The hair stood up on the back of my neck. Everyone, including Joe, was silent. Margie broke the silence. “Father, I thought Jesus died to absolve us of our sins. Why are we still being punished this way?”
“This is not punishment, child. It's simply the mechanics of the process.”
I couldn’t stop myself from speaking out. “Some process. Kill everyone? Trap souls in limbo? Have people leap from buildings and break their skulls open, and then have to walk around that way still alive? Yeah, that's just wonderful. This is why I never bought into religion. This is cruelty, not the love of a God.”
Father Donovan moved closer to me, and looked me straight in the eyes. “The birth of a mother's child is a most beautiful thing, yet it doesn't come without great pain. The pain is a necessary part of the process, but it doesn't diminish the beauty of birth, or the creation of life. Often to have greatness, there must be great suffering.”
I had no answer. But Joe did. “This is a pretty sick plan if you ask me. This is more suffering than it is a process. What about all the suffering in the world that I've watched all my life? Abused children and animals, torture, murder, rape? Is that all part of God's ‘process' too?”
“You can't blame all the evil deeds of men on God. Those are human actions that we took upon each other, aren’t they?”
“So this is punishment then, for how bad we are?” asked Jennifer.
“The end of days was always foretold. I don't think it has anything to do with how we’ve behaved. Judgment Day was to come eventually regardless. I think whether we are good or bad only affects our judging and what happens
with our soul.”
Margie spoke next. “But what about Noah and the Ark? When it rained for forty days and forty nights and God wiped out the world with the great flood. That wasn't Judgment Day; that was a punishment for human behavior, right?”
The priest pondered her words for a while. His answer wasn't comforting. “Yes. The great flood was sent to cleanse the world of the wickedness that flesh had become. I suppose this could be punishment as well. I just don't know for sure. How can anyone know?”
I felt like I was simply becoming more confused. “Father, there’s something I’ve never understood. All the things the bible says are evil, we are all born with. Lust and hatred and coveting, those are all natural and instinctive. And if we were created in God’s image, and those are part of our creation, how can they be bad? They're just part of human nature. Why make those things a part of us if you're going to punish us for it? And there has to be lust to ensure we procreate and continue the species. So how can that be wrong? I just don't get it.”
Father Donovan stared directly into my eyes again, and I had a strange feeling as if there were some connection between us that I didn’t understand. He paused and sighed heavily before he spoke, and when he did speak it was like a parent giving strong experienced advice to a child. His words hung heavily in the air, and I would carry them with me for the rest of my days. “Perhaps the crime is not what is in us. Perhaps the crime is not the tools we were given. Perhaps the crime was how we used them.”
The room went silent for many seconds. There was wisdom in the priest's words, even if not all the answers were there. It seemed like there were no more questions to ask, until Steve spoke suddenly. “So, if this is punishment, is it just for the bad people? Do we all have to die? Maybe we will be okay?”
Joe laughed. “Really Steve? You think you didn't make Santa's naughty list? You just think about everything you've ever done when you were completely alone, every thought you've ever had in your mind that you can never tell anyone about, and you tell me again which list you're on.”
Steve said nothing, except to put his head down shamefully.
The sound of wings outside came quickly. Like pigeons suddenly coming into a rooftop roost. Quick fluttering at first, then slower flaps, then silence. There was no cooing of pigeons though, only the slow creak of the church doors being pushed open. A slight rush of air came in to the church as the door opened, pushing in swirls of dust that danced in the beams of sunlight now bursting through the gap.
As the door swung fully open, a surreal silhouette stood in the doorway, dark against the bright sun behind it. The shape suggested male; tall, and broad shouldered. Most noticeable was the enormous wings that protruded from his back, rising up well above his head, now folding inward upon themselves to fit through the doorway.
At first we all just stood where we were, paralyzed by the moment. We were frozen with fear; bewildered by the spectacle. Steve began backing away towards the back of the church. Jennifer seemed to be trying to duck down behind a pew.
As the angel walked further into the church, the light filtering in through the windows illuminated the rest of him. He was perfectly chiseled in face and body, like a Greek statue. He wore no clothing of any kind, his full male anatomy on display. His bare feet made a slight noise on the church floor, like the pads of cat’s paws.
Behind him similar silhouettes began to appear, their great wings blocking out the light in the doorway. Moments later there were four Judges inside the church. I felt the panic building up inside of me, the adrenaline, and the urgings of fight or flight. I heard the voice of Father Donovan behind me.
“Run. Get out of here. Out the back...through the hall. Go!”
I turned to see him pointing at an open doorway behind him, across the pulpit. Steve and Jennifer were already running for it. Margie and Joe were transfixed on the angels, like deer staring into car headlights. The Judges were moving slowly toward us, not with haste, but with purpose.
“Look at their eyes,” I heard Margie say, almost in a whisper to herself. The angels' eyes were strangely inhuman. They were a golden color, with no white or colored pupils. You couldn't tell specifically where they were looking, if not for the direction of their heads.
Father Donovan came forward and grabbed Margie by the shoulders, spinning her around. “Go girl!” he yelled as he shoved her towards the back hallway. Snapping out of her daze, I saw her glance quickly at me and then disappear through the back door following Steve and Jennifer.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Joe's stance changing. Looking his way I saw him raising his wrench, a look of defiance growing on his face. “This can't be real,” he shouted. ”There's no fucking way.” Something in him snapped, and he moved forward to confront the closest angel.
“Get back!” I urged him, but the wrench was already swinging. The weapon hit the Judge directly in the jaw with all of Joe's adrenaline-fueled strength. I saw the angel's head turn slightly from the impact, but it had no other effect. As Joe reared back for another swing, the Judge's wings spread out wide and his arms reached out and grabbed Joe by the shoulders, pulling him in. Joe squirmed and struggled against the Judge's embrace as the large wings wrapped around them both. The wrench drop to the floor with the clunk of rusted metal on old wood, and I watched Joe’s feet suddenly go still.
I felt Father Donovan pulling on my arm. “Come on son, get out!”
I turned and ran with him just as the other angels were closing in on us. Up onto the pulpit, across the platform and into a side hallway we ran. At the end of the short hall the morning sun was streaming in through the open back door, and I could see Jennifer and Margie outside. Father Donovan's voice was urgent in my ear. “Go son; get them to somewhere you can hide. You can't fight this, you can't beat it. You can only hide for as long as you can.”
I turned to see him just standing there in the hall, not following. “What are you going to do? Come with us.”
There was a sudden look of defeat, of surrender on his face. “I need to face up to my faith; to live up to my oath. If God is calling me to Heaven, I must answer.”
“No. That's bullshit.” I moved back towards him and grabbed his shoulder. “Come with me, come on!”
He pushed my hand off, pointing outside as he stepped backwards towards the pulpit. “Go. This is not your time yet. Take your friends away from here.” He turned and left the hallway, entering back into the church. I glanced back towards Jennifer and the others, but I couldn't leave yet. I moved back to the pulpit door and looked into the church. Two Judges were now up on the pulpit with Father Donovan kneeling in between them.
The cross around his neck he was now caressing in his hands, and he was praying out loud, quickly, with a voice of fear. I could tell he had begun to cry. With each phrase of his prayers, his voice grew louder, more panicked. In the midst of his now almost shouted words, I saw a Judge place a hand upon his shoulder. Father Donovan went silent, and looked up at the angel. He calmly stood, and never moved as the great wings came around him and he disappeared behind a veil of feathers.
I felt a chill run up the back of my neck as the second Judge saw me in the doorway and began to walk towards me. Just before I turned to run, I glanced over to the middle of the room where Joe had been. That Judge was now headed towards me also, and behind him on the floor I saw Joe's wrench, half buried in a pile of gray ashes. Just as I turned to leave, I saw the ashes fall where Father Donovan had been standing, and I watched a lightly glowing wisp of smoke rise towards the ceiling of the church and disappear.
“Adam...come on!” Margie's voice dragged me down the hallway and out the back door into the sunlight. Outside, Jennifer, Steve, and Margie were standing in a very small cemetery surrounded by an old iron fence. There were only a dozen or so graves marked with very old tombstones. At one particular grave, a small dog was barking and furiously digging at the ground. It ignored us as we ran past, and in between its barks I heard a strange thumping in the ground. I
stopped for a moment, listening. The priest was right. Under my feet, and all around the small cemetery, I could hear faint shouts and thumping coming from underground.
The dog looked up at me and whimpered a couple of times, and then following his ears, ran over to a different grave and began digging again. A chill ran up my spine as I imagined the rotting corpses below me, waking up in the dark confines of their coffins, trying to get out.
Steve's voice pulled my attention away. “Adam, help her over!” Looking towards the others I saw Jennifer struggling to get over the fence, her mini skirt caught on an iron spike. Margie and Steve were already on the other side. “What about Joe?” Steve asked as I pushed Jennifer over the fence. I just looked at him and shook my head. I saw him glance curiously back towards the door of the church. “And Father Donovan?”
“Let's just go,” I answered, and the four of us began running up the alley behind the church, never looking back.
Chapter 5
Soulmates Unmated
“For a time is coming when all who are in their
