The REIGN: Out of Tribulation

by Jeffrey McClain Jones

  About that time, Rodney heard the sound of the van crunching to a stop on the driveway. A few seconds later, he heard Emma trying to call out to him in a calm and non-aggressive tone. “Rodney, Rodney?” Her voice fluttered just below panic.

  He was smiling at the joke he had played on Emma—or maybe it was the joke the bull was playing on both of them—when he walked out of the barn. “You like my new friend?”

  “He just wandered up?” Emma asked, relieved to see Rodney’s smile.

  “Yeah, he was looking for someone to scratch his head.”

  “Not everybody could reach his head,” Emma said, walking slowly toward Rodney.

  When the bull saw Emma approaching, he stood up and slowly made his way toward her. Emma scooted a bit faster to get next to Rodney before the bull got too close.

  “He’s very gentle,” Rodney said.

  Emma clung to Rodney’s arm, her chin behind his shoulder, lacking full assurance of the bull’s benign nature. As the huge beast parked himself once again in front of Rodney, Rodney showed Emma the spot he had found on top of the bull’s head. She chuckled as the bull snorted pleasantly and half closed his eyes. Then the bull opened his eyes a bit wider, looked squarely at Emma and lowered his head so she could reach that same spot. Emma looked at Rodney who just smiled and nodded. She reached for the scratching spot and began to dig her nails into the curly mat of hair. Rodney reached under the bull’s chin and scratched there. In a minute, the big eye ball facing them was completely closed. Emma and Rodney smiled at each other, but Emma had to stop before her arm and hand cramped up.

  As the bull snorted gratefully, Steve pulled up to the house in his electric car, a small vehicle, which would be no match for the van-sized bull. Walking to the barn, Steve began to slow when the big bull turned and began cruising toward him.

  “I hope you didn’t say ‘sic him’ to that big monster,” Steve said tentatively.

  Rodney laughed. “He’s recruiting head scratchers. So far he’s having a banner day.”

  Steve smiled unconvincingly, stepping carefully to avoid the horns and hoofs as they approached. He reached up and obliged the friendly bull for two or three minutes. “Dang, this guy sure is docile. Not like the bulls on your grandpa’s ranch,” he said to Rodney.

  “Emma thinks it’s the whole lion-and-lamb-laying-down-together thing,” Rodney said, less than half-teasing her.

  Emma shrugged, feeling vindicated by the gentle bull.

  At dinner that evening, they all talked about the bull. Daniel had gotten his turn at head scratching. When the bull approached a second time, Chip was with Daniel and the robot confused the bull, who, at first, seemed repulsed by the unhuman biped and then decided to give him a try at the head scratching. Daniel intervened, however, not certain what Chip would do. He didn’t want his expensive toy trampled to bits for poking the bull in the eye or something.

  “Well, we have to give him a name,” Emma said.

  Steve answered immediately. “Ferdinand.”

  They all laughed and agreed that the name fit their gentle friend.

  Rodney waited for the laughter to fade before saying, “We can’t keep him here, of course?”

  The others grew silent. Then Daniel gave it a try. “Why not? He just eats grass, drinks and sleeps. What’s the harm?”

  Rodney smiled at Daniel’s description. “No harm, except the cleanup, which you left out. I was actually thinking of Ferdinand. It’s no good for him to be alone. Human head-scratchers are obviously appreciated, but he needs four-legged companions.”

  “You know any ranchers around here?” Steve asked.

  “I think he’s a dairy bull,” Rodney said.

  “I think you’re right,” Emma said. “He looks like some of the dairy cattle our neighbor used to have in Illinois.” She looked at Daniel, who tried to remember what those cattle looked like and whether he had seen a bull there.

  “Any way to contact Lilly? I think she’s in charge of that sort of thing,” Rodney said.

  “Lilly?” Steve asked.

  They explained Lilly and her visits, Daniel making sure to add the part about the take offs and landings. Then Emma said, “I think she still spends a lot of time at Betty’s, you should call her.”

  Rodney nodded.

  Steve piped up. “That reminds me. I met a preacher today.”

  Emma and Rodney both looked at him. They hadn’t said anything about a wedding since the debacle with the crazy minister in Barneston, but Steve had their full attention now.

  “He’s one of them,” he said with a smile.

  Rodney raised his eyebrows. That sounded more promising than the huddled and defeated minister they had tried.

  “You mean one of the immortal people?” Emma asked.

  Steven bobbed his head. “I was talking with Pete about the prospect of opening the high school and he referred me to this guy named Philip, who just got into town. He was a preacher in his former life. Now he’s in charge of education for the area.”

  “Wow, that’s a significant development,” Rodney said. “And Pete sent you to him?”

  Steve knew of Pete’s ambivalence toward the immortals and understood the point of Rodney’s question. “It may be the sheer charm of this guy Philip. He seemed to me like a guy who could talk a bear out of his fur and leave the bear grateful for relief from the burden.”

  Everyone laughed at this mental picture.

  “I don’t mean a used car salesman kind of guy,” Steve said, not wanting to leave the wrong impression. “I mean he’s just the nicest guy you’d ever meet.”

  Daniel was focused on another issue entirely. “Are you gonna teach high school?” he asked Steve.

  Steve smiled. “I’d like to. Philip seemed open to the idea, but kinda like he wasn’t supposed to commit to anything just yet. I guess we’ll see.”

  “You thinking of teaching writing?” Rodney asked.

  Steve nodded. “I could do that, or anything they wanted, really. I feel like I’m ready for a big change. And it seems like something that’s needed.”

  Rodney liked the idea of Steve teaching. He liked even more the idea of Steve planting himself in Somerville.

  Daniel needed school. Emma looked at him, pleased that he perked up at the prospect of both the education and the social contact. The possibility of her son leading a normal life had seemed like a doubtful point on a distant hill, only a year ago. In the present, however, even his discontent seemed healthy.

  After supper, Steve and Daniel cleared the table and washed dishes. Emma and Rodney went for a walk and they both had the same agenda. The sun had turned the sky golden in the west. A slight evening breeze gathered some clouds from the north, in preparation for overnight rain.

  After some small chatter, Rodney began the main discussion. “What do you think? Do we contact this preacher about a wedding?”

  Emma looked at him, restrained excitement on her face. “I wonder if he’ll do it. I mean, things have changed, and we’re not one of them.” That last phrase left Emma wishing she had a better way of expressing it, but Rodney knew what she meant.

  “Yeah, that’s something I haven’t even begun to understand. Those of us who didn’t believe before still get some of the benefit of what these immortals have to offer. Where is the limit to that?” He wondered out loud. “Well, at least we can ask.”

  Emma turned the question back, “You want to?”

  Rodney looked at her, stopped, took both her hands and said, “I want to marry you more than I want anything else in the world.”

  They kissed and held each other a moment. Emma wiped a joyful tear from one eye and they walked on.

  Rodney turned to another angle on what lay ahead. “You know, some ministers won’t marry you unless you’re a believer.”

  Emma nodded, brushing a lock of hair from her face.

  “I’m starting to feel like one,” Rodney said.

  Emma looked at him, so glad to have found someone who seeme
d so much on pace with her. “Yeah, me too. It’s actually hard not to believe now.”

  Rodney chuckled at that way of saying it, recognizing the sentiment.

  The next day, Rodney decided to go to town to meet with the preacher named Philip. He called Pete, using his new cell phone, to find out how to contact the new preacher. And he called Jay to see if he had a phone number for Bob Stolberg, who had a dairy farm west of town. Jay didn’t have the number, so Rodney would just drive out to Bob’s place after finding the preacher.

  Emma said goodbye. “You sure I shouldn’t go with you?”

  Rodney shrugged. “I want to find out if weddings are even an option. I’m not sure what the rules are these days.”

  Emma understood that, glad Rodney wanted to take the initiative. She kissed him and then waved as he drove off.

  Daniel joined her, having worn his hand weary scratching Ferdinand on the head. “I’m gonna scooter into town to work for Dale and then get together with some of the kids.”

  Emma looked at him, her motherly radar picking up something. “Some of the kids?” she said. “Any particular kids of interest?” she asked, trying to be cool about it.

  “Um, maybe.” Daniel grinned and then turned to get on his scooter. He hit the start button, blew his mother a kiss and strapped on his helmet with a smile.

  In town, Rodney parked outside the old Baptist church. It had been closed for over two years; at one point, the Dictator’s troops used it for storage. The pews had been detached from the floor and piled on one side of the sanctuary, where they still stood, when Rodney tentatively ventured into the building. His previous experience in attempting to find a preacher factored into his caution, but he had felt uncomfortable in churches long before that.

  The Baptist church had been a congregation of up to three hundred people. The building offered a number of options for where to find the preacher. Rodney stood in the sanctuary for a moment, surveying the remnants left by the Dictator’s people. The oddest item in the room caught Rodney’s eye, a popcorn wagon.

  “Maybe I should get that thing going. You feel like some popcorn?” said a jolly voice behind him.

  Rodney turned. There stood a man who appeared to be about the same age as Rodney, a barrel-chested man, with a large round face, thick brown hair and expressive eyebrows, over small dark eyes.

  “Rodney, I’m Phil. I’m glad you’ve come by. It’s about the wedding, right?”

  Rodney blinked at the man’s insight. “Yeah,” he said. “I guess conversations get to the point faster when you can read everybody’s mind.”

  Phil stepped up and shook hands. By this time, Rodney was used to the tingle that accompanied shaking hands with one of the immortals. He actually liked the feeling, though he didn’t understand it.

  “You know, it’s not really reading your mind,” Phil said. “I just have this little bird that tells me stuff.” He smiled, leaving Rodney uncertain how seriously to take his explanation.

  Seeing Rodney’s confusion, Phil continued. “Don’t worry about it. There won’t be a test on it anytime soon.”

  Rodney smiled. “That’s good. I’ve been feeling like everything’s changed and I just can’t be sure what to expect.”

  “Yeah,” Phil said. “A lot of us, who should have known, didn’t pay attention enough to have all the answers either. But we’re all swimming in grace, so there’s lots of room for learning.”

  “For guys like you, or for guys like me?” Rodney asked.

  “For all of us.”

  Rodney nodded, feeling the grace, but not comfortable enough to pursue all of his questions just yet.

  “So, let’s talk about the wedding,” Phil said.

  “Yes. Of course, the first question is whether this is something you even do these days.”

  Phil brightened. “Yep, that’s a good place to start. And the answer is...it depends.” His demeanor was so familiar and jovial that Rodney couldn’t tell if he was kidding.

  “It depends?” Rodney asked.

  “Well, we reserve the right to decide which weddings we’ll do,” Phil said.

  “We? You mean you and the other ministers in your division, or whatever you call it?”

  “Hmm, yes, you’re a military man, so you would think in those terms,” Phil said thoughtfully. “I just mean those of us taking orders from the top,” he said. Then he looked at Rodney to measure whether that answer made sense. His awareness of Rodney’s continued confusion prompted another clarification. “I mean, those of us who are part of the Kingdom, ruled by the one who sits on the throne in Jerusalem,” he concluded.

  Rodney nodded, but his curiosity caught hold of one corner of that answer. “So you take orders directly from...ah...the throne?”

  Phil nodded. “Sure, we have one King and he rules everything. He’s constantly communicating with us, wherever we are, and we just do the things that he wants us to do.”

  For all its simplicity, this explanation left more space than it filled in. Rodney, of course, knew about taking orders from the command structure and he even received an order directly from a four-star general once. But he couldn’t tell whether Phil merely glossed over a more complex reality with his answer, or if this new order operated as directly and organically as described.

  After waiting a few seconds, Phil seemed to get a green light for expounding on his previous answer. “You see, we all have a realm of responsibility. For some it’s whole cities or whole regions. But all of us serve just one ruler and we all have direct communication with him. Even when we’re working with others like ourselves, we’re all individually hearing our instructions from the source.”

  A bit dazed by this description, Rodney forgot any inhibition and said boldly, “That sounds kinda like a bunch of remote controlled robots, all being coordinated by one supercomputer.”

  Phil laughed. “I guess that makes sense coming from where you stand. But I think of it more like a dance, rather than like a kid with a remote controlled car. If you want to dance with the Prince, Cinderella, you gotta let him lead.” He concluded with a belly laugh.

  “So, it’s like all of you are dancing with him simultaneously?” Rodney tried to grasp what Phil was saying.

  “Yep. In fact, it was supposed to be that way all along, it’s just that, before he transformed us, we weren’t very good at following his lead.”

  Rodney let that sink in a few seconds and then decided to get practical again.

  “Should Emma and I meet with you to discuss whether our wedding is one you would be willing to do?” he asked.

  Phil smiled broadly. “Oh, I’m more than willing to do it. I would love to have the honor of marrying you two. But you’re right, you should both meet with me first. Is it okay if I pop by your place sometime this week?”

  Rodney laughed out of relief and said, “Sure, of course, you can come by. We’d be glad to have you, and I know Emma will be as excited as I am that you’re willing to do it. That’s great news!”

  They shook hands again, Phil pleasantly amused by Rodney’s relief. They arranged a night for the visit, after Rodney called Emma to confirm. When Rodney hung up the phone, he thanked Phil again and said, “Okay, so now I gotta go see a man about a bull.”

  Phil laughed. “Alright, good luck with that.”

  As they parted, Rodney thought he could feel a connection with Phil, something like an emotional or spiritual ribbon wrapped from the preacher to himself. He had no better words to explain this feeling and he didn’t say anything about it, not even to Emma or Steve, wondering what it meant.

  Rodney drove south on Main Street and then west on the county highway toward Stolberg’s farm. With no formal police yet, Rodney usually drove as fast as he dared, given the vehicle’s limits. But the encounter with Phil, the promise of a wedding, and the entire tipping universe, chased his mind around, and left him driving at a meandering pace. Driving absently, he suddenly startled when a horn honked behind him. Rodney’s first thought was that he w
as driving too slowly and someone wanted to get past, but then he recognized the driver behind him.

  Warren Kline smiled broadly in Rodney’s rear view mirror. On a second look Rodney swerved, when he noticed that Warren’s face showed no evidence of his war wound. Warren slowed down and they both pulled over to the gravely shoulder. Rodney hopped out of his van and ran back to Warren’s SUV, after a brief look for traffic.

  “As handsome as ever!” Rodney said, when Warren jumped out to greet him.

  “So you could see it even in your mirror?” Warren shouted, surprised at how pronounced the injury had been and how noticeable the healing.

  “Yep. So you finally found a decent plastic surgeon?”

  “Yeah, the best!”

  “When did this happen? Who did it?”

  “It was last night. Connie and me were out takin’ a walk and we saw these three little kids walking along the sidewalk, all holding hands and singing. It was great singing and we were just enjoying it, when it occurred to me that these must be kids from that mob in Jerusalem. There aren’t any other kids around. I know people have been meetin’ with their kids, I was just curious whose kids these were. So we sped up to catch ‘em,” Warren’s voice thickened here, as the full excitement of his healing returned.

  “So I says to ‘em, ‘Hey, you kids here visiting your parents?’ They had turned around when they heard us coming and the tallest one, a girl, looked at me and said, ‘No, we came here to see you.’” Here, Warren had to pause, to settle his escalating emotions.

  After a few sharp breaths, and clearing his throat, he found his voice, which quaked with feeling. “Ah, I was thinking she was teasing me, you know, smart-mouthed kid or something. But Connie grips my arm real tight and I knew something serious was happening, no joke.”

  Warren swiped at his left cheek quickly and continued. “Then this little guy, no more than four years old, I swear, steps up and motions for me to bend down.” Warren had to stop now. He breathed heavily and smiled, tears coursing down both cheeks. Rodney reached a hand over and gripped his shoulder, not doing much to hold back his own tears.

  Panting, to get his breath and get the words out, Warren said, “So I bend down, cause y’ know, who would resist this cute little guy? And he reaches up both hands and takes hold of my face and says in the clearest words, like a little man, ‘Do you want your face to be healed?’” Warren stopped and bit his lip, still trying to hold it together.